Fellow Summoners, I beg you to remember yourselves before calling for the expulsion of any new member to the League. Yes, objectivity is core to the continued functioning of our organization. Yes, the balance of the League is critical to human survival on Valoran. But before we allow fear to turn our organization into an elite class, I would like to remind you all that we have had these issues in the past, and have overcome them without resorting to expulsion or a cap on the higher end of eligibility. Or does Noxus no longer recognize strength as a virtue? Perhaps Demacia has forgotten its sense of Justice? Would Ionia really stoop so low as to suggest that representation should be subject to the whims of our council? Let us remember the example of Jax. Need I say more? Let us then discuss the incredible range of Blitzcrank's arm, or the endless supply of fungus that Teemo can actually carry. We have limited these abilities in the past, subjecting Katarina's infamous pirouette to limitations upon targets, and Heimerdinger's turrets to weight and ammunition expectations. Such a thing is easily possible with our newest member, Fiora. Yes, she is capable of stacking Tiamats and destroying an enemy team instantly with her blade waltz. But was Morgana not capable of the same in the past? Yes, she may be capable of defeating Baron Nashor by herself without fear of the enemy reacting in time, but can we not "give her a lamppost" so to speak? Solutions exist.

As for her wit, I have no idea how to contain her. Her summoner at the time insists that she was defying orders, that she was ignoring the warnings of her teammates, and that she thought up the entirety of this poem in iambic pentameter, and its timing, during her introduction to and fight with Nashor. There was no preparation involved. Keeping in mind that the entertainment of our viewers is just as important as the legal participation of city-states, I HIGHLY recommend that all efforts be made to keep Fiora at the forefront of our publicity. Also, I have reproduced the poem for your benefit below.

"What ho! What may? Impossible, they say.

But hear my steel, if you dare now to play.

What creature is this? Man trembles below.

Completely, he controls the serpentine.

But is he such a beast? Or such mad fellow?

Or is he a mild terror, fit for a teen?

Neither! Like Wolf and Golem, he's but Clay.

A conjured visage of our once great foes,

finding himself now mostly indisposed.


Baron of Nashor! Praise for the lasher!

May your spit and green spittle strike me true!

For your luck, my dear old fellow, is what

shall keep you- purple, not dead yellow, but

as far as victory, I must say this:

I am an artist with a sword. En garde!

Strike quickly! Strike Deftly! My steel hits hard!

And where it's let fly, swift death is not far.


Do not hesitate or show unrefined

style is the precision- grace- of the styled.

Is this supposed to be a challenge,

Or are you feared as brutish Falange?

I am an artist with a sword. Try me!

But try fast, an strike true. Without pity!

I never hold back! So fast! So witty!


Now fear me, beast! For I wield my Panache!

To underestimate is your quickest

end. For you strike where armor is thickest.

At my courage! With steel, it is awash.

For I'm an artist with a sword! Too slow!

And soon, my cruel friend, is your time- to go!


This painting is your death: a bland pastel.

With this sword, I am an artist! Your move.

In more ways than one, I always excel.

None shall mourn your loss. Allow me to prove

that when you die, none are shocked. They approve!


Sharp blade. Sharp mind! I've yet to find equals!

And with that, I pay no mind to a Lord

or to Barons and their many sequels.

I'm a great artist, wielding a great sword!


Listen, foe! Where others try, I succeed!

I am an artist with this sword: My creed!

Where others bleed and die, I live- I lead!


An artist am I, painting with my sword.

If you perceive only this chord: I'm bored.


An artist. A sword. One last chord: Now Die!