Welcome to the Summoner's Rift

by Mustard Is Best Pony

Whoops

Prologue: "Whoops"

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“What do you MEAN ‘trouble with the summoning circle?!’” Damon sat bolt-upright as his mid-day nap was interrupted by the unseemly bit of news. He had been trying to sleep in his favorite chair on the veranda, overlooking the Valoran sunrise when an unfortunate bit of news had been disseminated. Blood running cold, Damon lurched out of his chair and began the long descent from the Ministry of War’s uppermost tower.

“What about stability?”

“Th-that’s the thing, sir.” The short yordle unfortunately named Bump pushed his glasses back up his nose, running to keep up with the Demacian’s long stride. “Th-the whole thing seems stable, it’s just… Not summoning from Runeterra!”

“I find this difficult to believe. Come on.” Damon doubled his pace, picking up into a brisk jog down the stairwell. Unfortunately for Bump, that meant sprinting to keep up. The Ministry’s long-standing history of political ceasefire had been uninterrupted ever since the end of the Ionian conflict. There were plenty of times when that peace had been tested, sure, but open war between Demacia and Noxus had been avoided for a long, long while.

“Damon!” Visera, a shapely Noxian woman, emerged from her quarters as they rushed past. “Did you hear about the circle?!”

“We’re on our way now, come on!” Damon urged the yordle and the Noxian faster down the tower, much to the latter’s chagrin. The headlong rush down the stairwell was beginning to wear on the others. Damon didn’t dare pause for a moment. “Bump,” he called over his shoulder. “Warn the Exarch and the Summoners Council. We may have to suspend action in the Rift while we sort this out.”

“Sir!” Bump ducked out of the stairwell and onto one of the upper landings, thankful that he could finally go his own pace.

“Visera, I want you to ready the failsafe. We’ll pull the plug on the summoners if we must. We cannot lose balance.”

“A-are you sure, sir? That seems a little harsh…”

“As a last resort. Go.” Damon waved her off as he spun another corner, sprinting full-tilt down another hallway. Visera shouldered through a door on the third level, and he heard her cursing as she began throwing out commands to the attendants.

Damon himself was intent on the basement, and the Summoning Circle.

“Alright!” He burst through the door, and all eyes were on him. “What do we have?”

“An unknown bit of interference, sir!” The chief attendant, another yordle by the name of Yip, or something to that effect, popped up at his side. “It’s strange, we’re just not summoning our templates as we suspected!”

“What? I don’t understand, how can they be summoning something other than our champions? What of the roster?”

“It’s been replaced, sir! Look!” Yip turned to an arcane display, and Damon watched with wide eyes as the light swelled. On the screen, where they’d typically show the five summoners on each team and their selected champion, was instead ten completely different portraits.

“Yip, where did they summon these templates from? Who made these?”

“We don’t know sir, but we’re investigating the spells now. For whatever reason, our champions just weren’t available for selection!”

“And you didn’t pull the plug immediately?!” Damon whirled on the yordle. He was not a man to be trifled with on a good day, but Yip didn’t seem fazed by his fearsome countenance. She beamed in her signature way up at him.

“Nope! It’s way too interesting!”

“Curse you and your inquisitive mind.” Damon sighed as he turned back to the display. “So if not Runeterra, then where are they being summoned from?”

“Sir!” Another attendant nearby, a waspy little Ionian brat, lifted his own display up. “I found out where these templates are being summoned from!”

“Let me see that.” Damon rushed over, pushing the man aside. There, at the bottom of the complicated star chart, was a single word. Damon blinked at it before looking back up at the ten mysterious portraits.

“Where in the blue blazes is ‘Equestria?’”