ěFiddlesticksě

ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěšFor nearly twenty years, Fiddlesticks has stood alone in the easternmost summoning chamber of the Institute of War. Only the burning emerald light of his unearthly gaze pierces the musty darkness of his dust-covered home. It is here that the Harbinger of Doom keeps a silent vigil. His is a cautionary tale of power run amok, taught to all summoners within the League. Decades ago, there existed a powerful rune mage from Zaun - Istvaan. At the end of the fifth Rune War, he became one of the League's first summoners. Too much a prisoner to the old ways of magic, Istvaan stepped further and further outside the rules of conduct in the League. In what was ultimately his last match, his reach finally exceeded his grasp. Sealing himself inside the easternmost summoning chamber, he began incanting the most forbidden of rituals - an extra-planar summoning.čšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě

ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřžýáíéúů§ěščřWhat exactly happened inside that chamber remains unknown. No champion came to represent Zaun that day in Summoner's Rift. Only silence echoed back from repeated knocks on the chamber door. The first apprentice who entered was cut down immediately by an unearthly scythe. What few who followed and survived were driven mad by fear, mere husks of men gibbering about crows and death. Afraid of the evil even Istvaan could not control, the League sealed all exits to the chamber, hoping they could contain what they could not destroy. Years went by, but the wooden figure within never moved save to slay any foolish enough to enter. Seeing no recourse to reclaim the chamber, the Council instead devised a use for Fiddlesticks: executioner. While he comes to life and seemingly abides by the rules of summoning in the Fields of Justice, what he awaits inside his chamber is unknown. His unmoving face yields no clues, and his scythe stands ready to strike down any who stand before him.čšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě§ůúéíáýžřčšě

ěščřžýáíThose who say 'you have nothing to fear but fear itself' have not yet felt the crows.éíáýžřčšě