Final matches of the Nyroth dispute accepted

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A yordle messenger steered her hang-glider around the bends of the Institute’s corridors. She spun into a corkscrew to avoid an impact with a crowd of Summoners, and swooped into the small office in which the final results were being tabulated. A grumpy yordle Summoner with a confusing Ionian name—something to do with pastries and capture-devices—snatched the gilded rune-sealed envelope from the messenger’s paw.

“Always pushing it to the last minute! Fah!”

He used an enchanted stone resting upon his desk to unbind the seal in a vaporous puff of crimson smoke, then took out the parchment scorecard. His eyes darted over the paper, checking signatures and seals, then slid it back into the envelope and added it to the stack. He took the seal-stone in his paw and traced another enchantment over it. The rock began to rattle and crack in his palm, and he flung it into the wall. It exploded into glittering gold dust.

“Done! FINALLY!” he crowed, and slumped back in his chair to watch the dust that was the Nyrothian seal-stone flutter down to the floor.

The messenger yordle coughed. Summoner “CupcakeTrap” arched a brow. “Yes. A happy Snowdown to you,” he muttered, as he took out a small pouch of silver coins and dropped two shiny discs into the messenger’s paw.

“And to you!” she answered with a flourishing bow, before slinging her hang-glider over her shoulder and walking out with the coins jangling in her hand.

People were beginning to line up in the hallway outside the tiny office. He had one more ceremonial obligation tonight. He opened a cabinet and took out an enchanted wooden mallet, then a small but quite heavy platinum bell etched with a sigil that was counterpart to those carved into the Institute’s deepest foundations. He struck the bell, and the sound cascaded through the stone walls.

Throughout the Institute, the colored edging on Summoners’ robes—the gray-blue of those sworn to the Freljord, the dark green of the Shadow Isles, the subtle orchid shade that signified Ionia, and the vibrant aquamarine of Bilgewater—hissed and glowed. The various shades burned away in these soft momentary flames, restoring the pure gold of a Summoner of the League of Legends.

The Nyroth dispute has concluded! I’ve closed down the sign-up form and the match submission form. No further entries will be accepted for either. We will provide a little more time for anyone to submit corrections to the matches already on the Balance of Power, then add these new matches in for the final counting.

Thanks to everyone for making this arc so exciting! I think we may have overdosed on complexity this time, but it was a good way (or at least an enlightening way) to find our various limits. The matches were fun, and although the story still hasn’t quite finished playing out, I think it’s safe to say that it was a pretty exciting tale that you all told with your votes in lore events as well as in your matches upon the Fields.

I’ll be posting up the final round of lore events soon. It’s my goal to ensure that every faction has some weighty final choices to make. I look forward to seeing what happens!

And in closing, a particular thank you to all our staffers. You guys really, really put in a lot of work, more perhaps than most Summoners realize. I hope you enjoyed it, at least some of the time, and I think you have cause to be proud.

—CupcakeTrap

Caitlyn, you monster.

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