Sheriff of Piltover


{{ sketch for one of the winners of my little giveaway i did earlier this month sheriff-caitlyn!

//Eeeee! :D


{{ sketch for one of the winners of my little giveaway i did earlier this month sheriff-caitlyn!

//Eeeee! :D

When The World Ends (with debonair-jayce)


He swallowed hard as he saw her expression. Damn, nice job Jayce. But she was right wasting water wasn’t a good idea. A small sigh slipped out as he walked away. And he followed her to the bedroom.

Eyes flickered around once they entered. Just as clean and organized - expected from her. Attention now going back to Caitlyn. He folded the shirts over his arm giving her a smile.”A shirt is enough” he looked at her, trying a smile. Half success - more of a awkward curve. A “Thanks” slipped out as well before he backed out, looking around for a door that could lead to the bathroom. 

She nods back at him. Awkward silence hung as they parted ways. The bathroom is easy enough to find, with the door partially-ajar. Several buckets have been set up in a kind of filtration system near the sink, an a couple of empty bucket sit in the shower as well, likely to catch runoff or any extra water. She’s not wasting what she has.

Caitlyn leaves him to shower, heading back to the kitchen to work on preparing tomorrow’s breakfast. Ionian rice porridge; something special, something hearty. There’s a dull ache in her chest as she starts putting everything together. When was the last time she had a meal with someone? Too long. Too bloody long. 

Outside, there’s a distant sound of something clattering. Her hand tenses around the jar of spices, and she forces herself to put it down carefully. She glances to the bathroom door, making sure she hears the sound of the shower before she moves to her workbench.

On the roof of the building is a device made from a pair of binoculars and some wired-together hexphones and small computers. She activates a hexscreen, and looks through distant mechanical eyes. Scanning. Triangulating. Looking for the source.

… that is a very large crowd, she thinks, distantly, absently.

(Source: sheriff-caitlyn)

"Sheriff Caitlyn, always a pleasure." Jarvan IV gives a slight bow, grinning.



She bows back, hand tapping the brim of her hat. “Your Highness. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

"My Lady, this has little to do with your conscience. Can we talk in private?" Jarvan IV stood in the sunlight, slightly annoyed. After all, they had approached Caitlyn first. However he respected the Sheriff, this was a tiresome errand without her resistance. It wasn’t a discussion he could have in broad daylight, however much he needed to conclude their meeting and be on his way. His conscience wouldn’t allow it.

"Perhaps your office? I would really enjoy a cup of tea, if you have it."

She hesitates a moment, holding the prince’s gaze and glancing to his guards, then she gives a small smile and a bow to go with it. “Of course, sire. Right through here.”

Caitlyn leads him into her office, leaving an order with the secretary to bring in a fresh pot of Demacian Grey, then heads to her desk and takes a seat. She gestures for His Highness to do the same. “Tea shan’t be a moment.” Her expression is a little wary. “This must be dire indeed, sire, to warrant a personal visit.” 

With no question asked bounty huntress grabbed hold of sheriff by hand dragging her down the streets. "We need to catch up darlin "

"… oh? Sarah, goodness, please, can you at least…" She stumbles, losing her balance, then recovers and hurries to keep up with the strutting redhead. "… can you at least tell me where we’re going?"

"Madam," she removes her hat and sketches a small bow. "I hope I am not intruding."



"Not in the least, Caitlyn." Castila said with a gentle smile. She put down her cup of tea. "Come on in, I will make you some tea if you have the time." 



Castila sighed deeply. “With the problems in Piltover, I would love to help but the Institute put a policy of non-interference on me. I am legally unable to help.” She winced slightly. “But is nice to talk with you in person for once.” 

"Last Word I had from Jax was that he went to Ionia on a training mission again. I think he was shocked by the news about my pregnancy…" She said placing her hand on her stomach. Castila’s face was covered with a satisfied smile. 

"He will be by end of the year, a father of twins."

"A cruel policy," Caitlyn sighs. "My condolences. I hope that doesn’t mean you’re banned from visiting, eventually?" She frowns a little. "Ionia…" She was certain he could handle himself, and avoid any of the social upheaval and threats there but… with no farewell? It was a little saddening. Please come back.

"… pregnant?" The sheriff’s eyes wide, and a grin follows not long after. "Good heavens, and twins?" She rises, extending a hand. "My sincerest congratulations! I hope it’s not too forward of me to offer a hug!" She beams.

// dis lil nigga be mackin’ on me so hard it breaks continuums

//”Noxians. I hateship those guys.” timetogetourhandsdirty

//The Munday photo post has split at the point of two Caitlyns

// ask-sheriff-caitlyn I think we’ve discovered an alternate timeline and it starts with Ezreal and Swain.

[[ Munday pic. ]]









When he finally arrived at the sheriff’s headquarters he was herded inside her office by an orderly that seemed almost as scared of Cait as he was of Olaf. He sat down in the chair in front of her desk and looked at her in silence for a moment before beginning.

"This might seem odd, but I need your help. Last night I was in Piltover, and I… found a small trophy. A lunchbox, to be exact. But more importantly I need to figure out what happened to me." Olaf broke out into a huge smile "Good stories can’t be told if no one remembers what happened."

"I thought you might be able to help me, seeing as you are a detective and all that stuff." Olaf brightened for a moment and then pulled the crumpled note out of his pocket, and handed it over to Cait. "Here this might help. I found it on me when I woke up, along with a bunch of frilly pink garbage. It’s written in the common tongue and might have a clue on it."

Caitlyn glances up as the ‘guest’ finally arrives. A sip of tea as she waits and watches him sit, and with a polite smile she listens as he recounts his version of events.

"Last night you were a little unruly," she says, setting her teacup down in its saucer with precision and care. "You had to be… seen to. Now, obviously, as a Champion, you are under the protection of the Institute, so you could not be punished for your actions. But you are expected to abide by the laws of the city-states you visit."

Her smile is thin but a trifle smug. “Yes, I left you that letter. Forgive me, I should have had the Linguistics department of the Academy translate it for you, but there wasn’t enough time… and, as I think you’ll discover, it is best if less people know about this.”

She takes the paper, smoothing it out over her desk. “I can have you arrested for theft and the destruction of property - among other things - but being sheriff means I can afford to be a little more creative when it comes to the law. After all, the law is my domain; if you break it, you suffer the consequences.” She taps the letter. “That ‘pink garbage’ you were wearing when you woke up is only part of what we dressed you in. You were very pretty, Olaf. And we took several photographs. This letter is just to let you know that, should you ever cause disruption in my city ever again, those images will be released from coast to coast.”

She’s stern and amused at the same time. “So. There you have it. I certainly hope this is enough of a deterrent to further drunken rampages, or an honourable death in battle may be very hard to find.”

Welcome to the Front


Varus spots the first troop transport to arrive for the day through the snow battered horizon, his eyes narrowing in anticipation on the landing pad as the vessel came to rest. If the report proved consistent, a platoon of riflemen from Piltover would be disembarking from the very same vessel, and the first to get off the ship was none other than the “prospective partnet” Varus was to be paired with.

He moves wordlessly from where he stood, a deep hiss escaping through the ducts of his mask with each breath he took while a menacing cereulean glow escaped through his visor, his gait unerring and ruthless as he approached the woman and stopping only mere feet before the markswoman and towering menacingly above her.

"Welcome to the Front" Varus speaks through his mask, his voice distorted and seemingly sounding like a hoarse growl through gritted teeth when in truth he spoke calmly and welcomingly, accepting another ally to their ranks before extending a hand as a gesture of goodwill.

"I’m sure you were already briefed but we’re to depart on a mission as soon as you arrive and have geared up. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Follow me, I’ll show you to the armory."

Caitlyn shakes his hand, squeezing through the mitten, to convey as strong a handshake as best she is able to. “Good day,” her voice is muffled. “Long time no see.” 

She falls into step beside him. “I brought almost everything I need with me. This isn’t my first time in the Freljord, though I can’t say I’ve ever pushed this far without a guide. And certainly not in wartime.” She studies her partner thoughtfully, through the smoked glass of her goggles. “Tell me what I’m missing.”

(Source: sheriff-caitlyn)

//Every time the Prince has a temper-tantrum they make a national holiday. Tee hee.

// It celebrates the day Sion rose from the dead. We hide candy Choppers in crypts for kids to reenact Katarina’s infamous grave robbery.

//Ohhhh that explains why the Demacian tradition involves breaking massive clay pots with hideous faces painted on them.


//”On every Easter Eve, a cannon is fired as a signal at eleven AM; and, at the same instant, from the windows and tops of all the houses in Demacia, great quantities of crockery are discharged into the streets.” [x]

"Happy Easter, Sheriff. On behalf of the Stewards, please accept this complimentary basket of fine teas and scones."

"I must admit, this ‘Eastern’ festival must be rather obscure if I haven’t heard about it, but thankyou nonetheless."

"Veigar to the left of me, Amumu to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with yordles. … but first, let me take a selfie."

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