AN: oh geez what is this

So uh, I make jokes sometimes? This is a one-shot League comedy themed sketch. Basically, the idea was that in a Runeterra where the League doesn't exist anymore, the League had to go SOMEWHERE. So I had an idea for a comedy series about all the champions stuck there for pretty much the rest of eternity.

It never really came to fruition, but I did write this bit. It's been wasting away on my hard drive for like two months. So it's a standalone for now. I might end up making an actual story and incorporating this in as one of the chapters, depending on if the idea factory wants to get working again, or if people actually like this. But we'll see. For now, hopefully enjoy, while I finish up Unholy Alliance.

EDIT 10/13/16: Well, it looks like this is going to be a series now. It'll probably update sporadically, but this is no longer the only sketch in here. Hope you enjoy, and if you have any questions, ask in Reviews and I'll answer if I can.

Steeling his will, the Eye of Twilight focused all of his senses on the target in front of him. Letting ki fill his arms, he posed, ready, arms outstretched…

"Shen, I swear, I will leave if you do not just hit that damn ball." Jarvan was leaning against a bag of clubs, each emblazoned with a Demacian insignia.

Shen's eyes snapped open, not that anyone could see it, given his mask. "We do not have "golf" in Ionia. I know nothing of the objective of this game."

The annoyed prince groaned audibly. "Olaf. Explain it, please."

From nearby, a grunt emanated from the hunched over form of the Freljordian marauder. "You uh, you're trying to cut the ball in half."

Jarvan's groan elongated this time. "Did NEITHER of you think to listen to me when I explained the rules?"

Shen shuffled his feet. "I had...things on my mind."

"Uh, same." Olaf replied.

An eyebrow raised, Jarvan inquired. "What?"

"Balance."

"Glorious Death."

Sighing, Jarvan withdrew a club from his bag and approached the ball. He pointed across the horizon to a distant flag. "We have the ball. We need to hit the ball. Until it goes in the hole."

"I see no hole!" Olaf shouted.

"That would be because it is small."

"Am I allowed to make it larger?"

"No. Now, as I was saying... " The prince snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. One other thing, before you make a long shot like this, you have to be sure to yell something, so no passerby are hit with the ball."

Olaf grunted. "That sounds like the exact opposite of a good time. Why are we warning them?"

Finally having had enough, Jarvan stepped forward and gave the ball a hearty smack, shouting "FORE!"

Immediately, Shen tensed up and began to put away his clubs, which were violet and made of spirit energy. "We need to go. This was a mistake."

Jarvan blinked. "I'm...not sure what you're talking about."

Shen whirled around, his eyes nearly bulging through his mask. "You said it. You said the word. His word."

Still baffled, Jarvan blinked again. "Golf?"

"No." Shen whispered. "You said…"

'FOUUUUUUURRRRRRR!"

A garishly decorated golf cart came zooming down the hill, its driver exiting the vehicle with a flourishing strut. Clicking his heels together, Jhin, the Virtuoso, approached the trio.

Shen was frozen still. Jarvan simply frowned. Olaf had left because the scene didn't need him anymore. "Hello there, Jhin…" Jarvan muttered, looking away. The new guy sorta gave him the creeps.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Jhin whispered, assuming an odd stance as he looked at the two of them. "I thought I heard someone mention-"

"Ah, Prince Jarvan!" Shen suddenly shouted, looking to the left. "We need to go retrieve the ball, right?" He winked, but again, the mask made this gesture entirely pointless.

Jarvan nodded. "We do. We'll, er, see you later, Jhin."

"Farewell…" hissed the Virtuoso, turning and beginning to scrub away at his gun.

As they walked towards the perceived landing zone of the ball, Jarvan gave Shen a confused look. "What in the world was that about?"

"It's...Jhin."

Jarvan gave a grave nod. "I understand. Luxanna told me she'd read about him...apparently numerous gruesome murders throughout Ionia…"

Shen shook his head. "That's not it. It's true. Khada Jhin is the most deplorable being I have ever encountered. You can ask Zed, and he'll tell you the same. But the worst thing isn't the bloodlust. It isn't the obsession with killing."

Shen grabbed Jarvan by the shoulders and pulled the unsuspecting, wide eyed prince close. "It's that he never, EVER, shuts the hell up about Four."

Jarvan slowly pushed Shen off of him, not wanting this to turn into one of those other stories. "You mean...the number? Like my number?"

Shen shrugged. "Again, yes and no. Yes, four. No, not fourth. It's just...I don't know. It's something about the way it sounds, it makes him…"

The Kinkou ninja stopped. His Ki Blade was resonating, signaling the approach of someone. From behind a tree, Khada Jhin pirouetted into the field, strutting towards the pair again. "Good afternoon!"

Jarvan gave a half-hearted wave. "Hello again, Jhin."

"I brought something for you!", the killer announced, reaching into his hidden pocket and revealing, with a flick of his wrist, a set of pencils and paper. "Some writing material."

Jarvan nodded. "Oh. Well, that's...kind of you, but I have to ask, why?" Suddenly, Shen realized. He prepared to stomp on Jarvan's foot, push him down, slice him open, anything to prevent Jhin from hearing and answering-

"In case you were keeping…"

The brief pause felt like an eternity for Shen. He felt like he was watching his father die. Again. And again. And again. Preparing for the shitty pun.

"SCORRRREEEEEEE!"

Jhin's shout was enough to startle Jarvan, sending the Prince stumbling backwards. Shen simply lay on the ground, defeated. Cackling, the Virtuoso leapt aboard his golf cart and drove away, his laughter fading into the distance.

Jarvan looked down at Shen, his eyes burning with indignation.

"That monster must be stopped."

One walk to the Institute later, Shen stood in front of a locked door. Deftly retrieving a key from a chain around his neck, the ninja turned to Jarvan. "You are the first Demacian to be allowed into the chambers of the Kinkou Triumvirate."

"I'm, uh, honored." Jarvan replied. "But wouldn't that be in...Ionia? It's not here anymore."

Sighing, Shen opened the door. "Look. We're going through a rough patch." Raising his voice to a more respectable level, he ushered Jarvan inside. "Behold! The sacred chamber of the Kinkou."

It was a storage closet. A small array of boxes had been arranged into a fort, and others into three desks. Hanging from the ceiling was a large piece of wood, into which had been engraved the letters "SACRED CHAMBRE OF THE KINKOU".

Jarvan's eyes lingered on the second word. "Shen. You...you spelled "chamber"..."

The ninja groaned. "We only had the one plank of wood. Mistakes were made. I told you, rough patch." His shoulders slightly sagging at the indignation, he sat down at the center desk, motioning for Jarvan to take a seat on a large box in front of him. As he did so, Shen began to rummage through the shelves behind him, before revealing a small gong.

"Now, I shall use the Summoning Gong." The Eye of Twilight curled his finger into his gloved fist and quickly flicked it into the gong, creating a resonating sound that echoed through the halls.

The champions sat in silence for a few seconds. Jarvan coughed. Shen drummed his fingers on his desk. "Sometimes it takes them a minute." Shen muttered.

A minute passed.

"Do you...do you think you should hit the gong again?"

Shen hit the gong again.

This time, a small purple figure walked into the room and nimbly leapt across the desk on the right, standing atop it as he faced Jarvan.

"THE HEART OF THE TEMPEST!" Shen announced, raising both arms.

Jarvan waved. "Afternoon, Kennen."

The Yordle waved back. "Heya."

Another dejected moan came from Shen. "Can you just...let me have this one? When Akali comes in here…"

"When I what?"

Akali had entered, her facemask pulled over her hair in a makeshift bandana. "Sorry it took so long, I heard the gong while I was in the gym."

"THE FIST OF-"

"Personal fitness is important." Jarvan added, nodding sagely.

Akali pointed at Jarvan as she climbed into the desk on the left. "You got it."

Shen laid his head on the desk. "Shadow. The fist of shadow, hooray, good, whatever."

Akali winced. "Oh, you wanted to do the thing. My bad. So, why are we meeting today?"

Speaking up, Jarvan looked around the room. "Today we had an unpleasant encounter with...Jhin."

Kennen's eyes darkened. "What? Did he...did he maim someone? Garen? I always thought he had it out for Garen."

Jarvan shook his head. "He...he made a shitty pun."

The atmosphere in the room became thick with dread. Akali groaned. "No, no, no! Not again! It happened to me earlier!"

"What?" Shen was surprised. "What happened?"

"Well, I told you all I was in the gym, right? I'm just on the treadmill, and Jhin comes over and starts doing sit ups next to me. It was weird. But he kept looking at me through that...eye hole. So I asked what he was doing." Her eyes grew wide. "He...he stood up, he put his hand on the armbar, and he whispered: "Working on my...COOOOORRRRREEEEEEEE!"

Shen involuntarily twitched at the sheer mention of another joke from Jhin. "We need to stop him. We must put Jhin in a state in which he is incapable of making puns."

Jarvan shook his head. "We cannot kill him. Such is the nature of this place…"

"I know that!" Shen muttered. "But there must be a way...there has to be a…"

There was a loud sound of ripping cardboard, followed by a sudden yelp, as Akali's box-chair ripped and the Kinkou ninja tumbled inside. She writhed her limbs furiously.

"Dammit! Are you kidding? Why is it always mine? Why does mine always…"

Kennen got up and walked across the room, reaching out. "Alright, I'll grab your legs, we're just gonna have to drag you out. So, on the count of 3…"

"This...this meeting of the Kinkou Triumvirate is adjourned." Shen declared, with all the joy of a man whose dreams had been tossed into a blender.

As Jarvan exited the room, Shen turned to his colleagues, working intently to get Akali out of the collapsed box.

He wondered if it was too late to ask Zed to join his Order. That one was probably a lot better.

Over the next few days, Jhin's reign of terror had become unstoppable. He had waited for Kassadin to approach the front entrance, simply to leap out and shout "DOOOOOOORRRR"!. He interrupted the showing at the theater to remind everyone that the movie would contain "GOOORRRRRRRRREEEEE". The shopkeepers had left Summoner's Rift, terrified of the Virtuoso approaching them to ask about the prices at the "STORRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE". Soon, the ragtag group of mostly insane people that comprised the League of Legends had become even more mad.

Jarvan IV, however, was undeterred. He had a plan. And it started with baiting a trap. He waited in the central hall of the Institute, resting on a small couch. His pose was casual, but his purpose was steeled. His eyes lit up as he noticed Garen entering the lounge, his breakfast clasped in his massive hands. A dull feeling of guilt ran over him as he beckoned his friend over. He would be...a necessary sacrifice.

"Greetings, Prince Jarvan!" Garen enthusiastically greeted his ally as he sat down on the couch.

"Good morning, Garen." Jarvan's eyes began to dart around. Garen's narrowed.

"Err, is everything alright, old friend?"

"Garen. If my father is the 3rd Jarvan...what am I?"

The Crownguard seemed confused. "Well...clearly you're...Jarvan the Fourth."

Jarvan waited. No. It wasn't enough. "Well, if he's 3, then I'm…"

"The fourth. You are the fourth Jarvan." Garen shrugged. "Is this some kind of joke, Jarvan? I'm afraid I don't...get it?"

The prince felt sweat begin to drip down his back. He knew it was now or never. He was playing with fire. The cliched sayings swarmed about his mind before he opened his mouth.

"Garen. What comes after Three?"

"Well, obviously, f-"

"FOUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

Jhin leapt out from behind the counter, arms spread in a fantastic display. The entire room shook as Alistar, who had been reading in the corner, fell over and began to sob.

Garen locked eyes with Jarvan, and betrayal emanated from the Might of Demacia. Mouthing "I'm sorry", Jarvan then turned to Jhin. "Ah, Jhin! Could you come here for a moment?"

Sauntering over, Jhin obliged. "Did you need something, Prince Jarvan?"

Jarvan pointed at a specific spot on the ground. "I could have sworn I saw someone drop a...Hextech...Guncleaner. Right there, on the-"

"Oh, on the…"

Jarvan winced. Shit. He had forgotten about-

"FLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRR?" Jhin crowed, striking another pose. At this point, more champions had entered the room, and every one of them looked to be in great pain. Except for Sona. Sona thought it was actually pretty funny. Not that she could tell anyone.

Jhin smiled and went to reach for the ground. His gloved hand made contact with an invisible mushroom, and it exploded, sending spores into the face of the masked Virtuoso. With a strangled cry, he groped at his mask, but it was too late. Jhin soon sank to the ground, asleep.

Smiling, Jarvan stood upon the couch, not paying attention to the fine leather being ripped up by his fancy boots. "Champions of the League! It is done! Thanks to the generous donation of one Captain Teemo, this mushroom should put Jhin to sleep...for an entire week!"

The crowd erupted in applause. Except for Sona. Sona would miss the puns.

Garen clapped a hand on his prince's back, smiling wide. "I have to say, Jarvan, you had me worried. Thank you for saving us all."

Beaming, Prince Jarvan IV looked over the sleeping serial killer. "I did it for the good of everyone, Garen. Now, I'll need your assistance...let's move him somewhere less...populated."

Both muscular Demacians dragged a sleeping Jhin through the halls, feeling rather accomplished.

From the ground, a sleeping voice began to shout, unconsciousness doing little to dissuade his volume.

"SNORRRRREEEE! SNORRREEEEE! SNORRRREEEE!"

It would go down as Khada Jhin's greatest crime of all time.