Sunlight filters from outside of the Institute of War into a small, messy dormitory room. White bed sheets flow from the bed onto the floor, several pieces of clothing lying on the carpet as well.
The walls of the bedroom are adorned with huge posters of female League Champions in provocative clothing, posing very suggestively. Most of these pictures are depicting a certain nine-tailed fox, the obvious favorite Champion of the occupant of the room.
Atop a wooden desk, crumpled papers and used inkwells surround a purple-robed Summoner hard at work with a feather-quilled pen, the long white appendage of his pen quivering with every letter he writes.
Occasionally the Summoner will take a large gulp from his cup of Earl Grey tea before returning to his work. If it were not for his hood, one would see his cheeks flushed with arousal, his breaths shallow and quick. If one's gaze fell downward slightly, they would also see a large pitched tent in the Summoner's crotch area, whatever he is writing on his parchment obviously something vulgar and not safe for work. His eyes squint from behind his wire-framed spectacles, desperate to finish his work.
Finally, the Summoner slams down his pen onto the wooden desk with a ceremonious flourish before clasping his hands together and reaching towards the sky. He lets out a satisfied outburst of release as his bones crack as they are stretched. After a few minutes of ministrations, he lets out one last satisfied sigh before standing up and walking towards a cabinet. Reaching inside, the Summoner extracts a large bottle of scotch and an empty glass.
"This victory calls for a drink," he says to nobody in particular, filling up the glass with the precious liquor.
Suddenly, his eyes meet with yours, resulting in a surprised gasp.
Instantly the Summoner sets down his liquor and his glass, looking at you intently with his dark brown eyes, a few wisps of his brownish-black hair obstructing your view of his pupils.
All at once, he breaks out into a large grin, his squinty Ionian-descent eyes becoming nothing but mere slits as his cheeks push upward. He removes his hood and clasps his hands together in excitement, his eyes still locked with yours.
The Summoner chuckles, shaking his head.
Finally he speaks, his possessing a strange high-pitched baritone, his vocal chords obviously still developing.
"Why, hello there! It's nice of you to drop by in the middle of my work, dear reader. Here, sit down!"
He gestures toward a plush loveseat, a rip in its armrest letting a bit of its stuffing to peek out into the air. You sit down in the chair as the Summoner pulls out a seat for him to sit in.
"Haha, sorry if I'm overwhelming you a bit here. I'm just excited to see you. Oh? Why am I doing this? Where's the story? Ah, well I apologize. I sometimes get ahead of myself a bit too much.
"What you're witnessing is a mere public service announcement. But a more accurate title is a thank you. A thank you for what? For all of your support of course!" The Summoner breaks out into a guffawing, kneeslapping laugh.
"Look, it's been a year since I started writing for League of Legends fanfiction, and I just wanted to thank you for reading, reviewing and just plain being there for me. It really means a lot to me that you have been supporting me through this incredible journey as writer. To be honest, my first story was just something I scribbled down because I was horny. But thanks to you, I now have a whole career ahead of me. You don't know how much you have done, and how grateful I am to you. Many times I was very close to abandoning this writing endeavor in order to pursue some foolish dream of being an internet sensation, but you were always there to support me, always there to help me get back on my feet."
The Summoner's eyes twinkle as tears pool up in the bottom of his eyelids. He gives a huge sigh filled with sentiment before finally standing and extending a hand for you to grasp.
"That's all I wanted to say to you my dear reader. I do hope this hasn't been a disturbance for you."
With that, the Summoner surprises you by embracing you in a warm hug. Separating from you, he shakes our body a bit with the hands clasped on your shoulders.
"Well…without further ado, I guess it's time for the story hm?"
You nod meekishly.
"Alright then. I hope you enjoy it. And as always, Excelsior!"
The Summoner then kicks you in your gut, sending you flying through the stone wall of his room into the vast expanse of nothing, breaking you through the fourth wall back to from whence you came.
And now, you can hear his laugh as this PSA finally ends, bringing forth the beginning of the story…