Post by The Armordillo on Jan 6, 2014 16:43:00 GMT -5
July 13th
With the normal, blank smile on his face, Rammus was quite often a hard figure to read. But even he had to show a small frown as he locked the door to his closet for what would be the last time for quite a while.
Rammus' domicile was perhaps the simplest apartment in the Institute. Knowing he didn't need much space, the armadillo had instead opted to claim a janitorial closet as his home. The only furnishing was a small heat-lamp from Piltover, and the empty shelves left behind after he had moved himself in.
The reason he was locking the door was very simple, which shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Rammus had been with the Institute for a while. He couldn't exactly remember how long, but he figured it was quite a while. And during those...years...he had always been interested by the various champions that would come and go, the variety of events that would happen in the Institute, and especially the League matches. But now it had all ceased. From what he had heard, most of Valoran had been thrown into disarray. He could at least sense it from those Summoners that would talk to him. They were hurried and distant. Even the Armordillo was surprised at how good he'd gotten at reading human body language.
The little armadillo barely made an impression on the traffic in the Great Hall as he made his way through. Even his novelty wore off at some point, and now he was simply another oddity that was given a passerby's attention. He didn't mind. It was hardly ever that anyone in the institute got more than a nod from him.
The problem arose that no one talked to Rammus anymore. He had little idea what happened outside of the Institute. He had been trying to read the Journal of Justice, but the words were too tiny for his eyes, and he could hardly make out the text. So, he had decided that a trip was in order. He was going to travel a bit of Northern Valoran. He had a vague map in his head. Demacia lay to the west, Noxus to the East. The bit of Freljord he could still move in was to the west of the mountains. If he wanted to go to Piltover or Zaun, he'd go straight east until he hit one of them.
He was actually somewhat torn between East or West. Although he had asked to serve as a Noxian representative for the old leader, he had hardly any idea what had changed since his last "visit". And at the same time, he had no friends in Demacia, and had never even stepped foot in the City before....
He grunted once to himself as he continued to think, all the while waddling his way through the Great Hall and towards the main entrance of the Institute. He hadn't packed anything, and the only possession he would bring with him was the suit of armor on his belly.
((If you're in the Institute and wish to give the Armordillo a proper sending-off, feel free.))
With the normal, blank smile on his face, Rammus was quite often a hard figure to read. But even he had to show a small frown as he locked the door to his closet for what would be the last time for quite a while.
Rammus' domicile was perhaps the simplest apartment in the Institute. Knowing he didn't need much space, the armadillo had instead opted to claim a janitorial closet as his home. The only furnishing was a small heat-lamp from Piltover, and the empty shelves left behind after he had moved himself in.
The reason he was locking the door was very simple, which shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Rammus had been with the Institute for a while. He couldn't exactly remember how long, but he figured it was quite a while. And during those...years...he had always been interested by the various champions that would come and go, the variety of events that would happen in the Institute, and especially the League matches. But now it had all ceased. From what he had heard, most of Valoran had been thrown into disarray. He could at least sense it from those Summoners that would talk to him. They were hurried and distant. Even the Armordillo was surprised at how good he'd gotten at reading human body language.
The little armadillo barely made an impression on the traffic in the Great Hall as he made his way through. Even his novelty wore off at some point, and now he was simply another oddity that was given a passerby's attention. He didn't mind. It was hardly ever that anyone in the institute got more than a nod from him.
The problem arose that no one talked to Rammus anymore. He had little idea what happened outside of the Institute. He had been trying to read the Journal of Justice, but the words were too tiny for his eyes, and he could hardly make out the text. So, he had decided that a trip was in order. He was going to travel a bit of Northern Valoran. He had a vague map in his head. Demacia lay to the west, Noxus to the East. The bit of Freljord he could still move in was to the west of the mountains. If he wanted to go to Piltover or Zaun, he'd go straight east until he hit one of them.
He was actually somewhat torn between East or West. Although he had asked to serve as a Noxian representative for the old leader, he had hardly any idea what had changed since his last "visit". And at the same time, he had no friends in Demacia, and had never even stepped foot in the City before....
He grunted once to himself as he continued to think, all the while waddling his way through the Great Hall and towards the main entrance of the Institute. He hadn't packed anything, and the only possession he would bring with him was the suit of armor on his belly.
((If you're in the Institute and wish to give the Armordillo a proper sending-off, feel free.))