Poppy could remember the first time she ever held Orlon's hammer.

It was a warm, pleasant day, and one of those rare times when Orlon had no pressing engagements elsewhere in the burgeoning capital.

At that point Poppy was well-entrenched within Demacian society – cold winters were no longer a bother, she was an active aide in wartime and construction efforts, and when she held another person's weapon she could swear she felt a part of their soul moving within, but Orlon's own was by far the toughest she'd faced to date.

"It's even heavier than it looks," she mused. She could not so much as lift it off the ground at the time, which only made her marvel more at the strength and seemingly effortless skill of its owner.

Orlon smiled. "Not just anyone can wield it, but I'm sure you'll get there...someday."

From just hearing those words, Poppy's whole life was about to change.

Before that day, she'd always been content just watching from the sidelines, offering whatever help she could in relief tents or menial supply chores, but no longer. Orlon said she had the potential to become more than that, and she was determined to prove him right.

However, she knew from the onset that it wouldn't come easy.

From that day on, she would devote countless hours of her free time to weight training, targeting every part of her body that was weak. She would watch the soldier's combat drills religiously and practice swings and stances, in secret, alongside them. For long periods she would run while wearing a full suit of plate mail to increase her stamina, not stopping until she was out of breath and her legs felt like they were made of stone.

Months passed before she saw her first signs of improvement, made in slower no doubt due to differences in Yordle physiology on top of her being a girl, but this only compelled her to push herself even harder.

In a word, she was unstoppable.

Before long she could not only do push-ups but do them with one hand tied behind her back.

She could run for hours, in full armor, barely breaking a sweat.

In time, she could arm herself with ordinary, human-sized blades with ease, but always did so with thoughts of the hammer lingering in the back of her mind.

At this point Orlon, who had been keeping tabs on her progress, called her to his station one evening.

"Think you're ready?" he asked, placing his hammer upright on the ground.

Poppy nodded. In her eyes, this was like a mythical sword in the stone. A final test of sorts to show her value to the Demacians; to show that she wasn't the same ditsy, wide-eyed girl from Bandle City any longer.

She gripped her fingers around the handle. This time, she would know exactly how heavy it was.

Poppy swung her hammer to her side with one arm, her buckler on the other, causing Captain Gorn's soldiers to step back from the ensuing cloud of dust.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said to Gorn, glaring defiantly.

Garen was whispering to Jarvan. "Are you sure about this? I can go in her stead."

"Believe in your prince," he said, to remind him of his own words back at the war room, grinning confidently. "Noxus would do well to learn to fear our new comrade."

Gorn was amused by the idea of fighting an opponent no taller than his boot, to say the least. He scratched his chin, apparently giving it some thought, then glanced at the children in red as they were being coralled back to the base camp by some of the soldiers. His army's window to attack was closing, and this gamble – should the Demacians prove true to their word – would be faster to resolve than an all-out battle, albeit far less fun.

"Very well," he said, with a sigh. "I accept your challenge."

The die had been cast.

Soldiers from both sides flocked in a wide circle around the two to watch.

Far away, on the high cliffs along the foothills of Mt. Targon, Rakkor warriors craned their necks in an effort to see what was going on.

General Ottavio observed from on the hill, always pleased to see the peerless Gorn in action.

"I fear I am wasting my time with you," Gorn said, as a squire went about unhitching the axe from his back. "Someone of your...stature, couldn't even best our cook."

Laughter resounded but Poppy brushed her nose, unswayed in her determination.

"Speaking of cooking, I've heard that your kind is a delicacy in some parts of Noxus. Never tried it myself, but depending on how our little fight goes, I'd be willing to try."

Garen instinctively reached for his sword in outrage, but Jarvan held him back.

Poppy still said nothing, even as the Noxian soldiers chimed in with their own taunts. Memories of another one of her experiences with Orlon were flooding back to her, drowning it all out.

It was a sparring match, only this time Poppy was wielding his own hammer against him. She was standing across from him, panting heavily, after they'd just exchanged blows.

"Each time you swing," Orlon had said, "it seems to knock all the wind out of you."

"I can still fight," she said, but the crackle in her own voice betrayed her.

"I don't doubt your tenacity. However, I think your technique could use a few adjustments."

Captain Gorn lunged forward with a downstroke of his axe, which Poppy managed to catch with the long handle of her hammer.

"I'm surprised you can even pick that up," he said, baring his fanglike molars.

His axe's blade was still baring down hard on the handle, coming dangerously close to her face.

Try to avoid direct contests of power, Orlon's words echoed. Just because you're small doesn't mean you can't fight, but it's important to know in what areas you're outmatched.

Poppy swung the hammer outward to push him away.

Use your size to your advantage!

She noticed, as she backstepped to dodge his ensuing attacks, due of her small height his swings had a particular diagonal arc to them. So, for the following blow, she instead dodged inward toward him, into the empty space beneath the strike.

...only to be picked up by one of her pigtails and thrown, sent tumbling across the hot sand.

Shyvana looked frantically to Jarvan. "Call it off!"

Although silent, even he was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Nice try, little girl," Gorn said, resting his axe across his shoulders. "I'd say that I'm disappointed, but I wasn't really expecting much in the first place."

Poppy shook the sand out of her hair as she got back unto her feet.

If the going gets tough, try a new approach!

She glanced at her buckler. It wouldn't suffice to shield her from Gorn's brutal strikes, but perhaps it could have another use...

Gorn scoffed. "I'm done playing around. This next strike will end it, so say your prayers."

Suddenly, his face contorted into a sadistic smirk.

As he rushed forward with his axe reared back behind his head, Poppy knew she had to make the next move count.