Threshing Floor

Paying back Cesar's things (preview)

As the ship approached the Bilgewater Hexgate tower, Sarah could see the familiar silhouette of her ship, the Syren, already embroiled in a running gun fight with the Noxian's front-line ships.

"Thank God, I'm not too late." Her ship was giving more than she was getting, even without her captain's hand at the wheel. "Either Cesar is swinging way above his weight class today, or I've trained my crew really well." 

"Which god ya prayin' to there Cappen?" A youngish, fuzzy faced midshipman had tiptoed up to watch the sea brawl at her side.

"Any of them and all of them, kid. Can you hop over to wherever you can do the most good in getting us disembarked?"

She didn't like being short with him, he seemed decent enough. However, there was a need for urgent action.

She didn't have to worry. He just beamed at her, saluted and zipped off to make her order into reality. There was barely anything left behind but a whiff of unwashed reefer jacket and a stray straw from his hat fluttering down.

Barely exiting the lift down from the tower her ears perked up to a loud, jovial shout echoing across the dock. "Ahoy, Miss Fortune! Need a ride out to your ship?"

She turned to see Gragas, seated on what could only be described as a beer keg with a high pressure nozzle below the waterline. The contraption sputtered and burped with frothy foam as he steered it towards her, his grin wide and welcoming.

"Gragas, you always know how to make an entrance," she said with a smirk, hopping onto the barrel behind him and wrapping her arms around his substantial girth.

"Only the best for you, lass," Gragas replied, pulling the lever that controlled the flow of fermented fuel. "Let's get you back to your ship!"

The Jet-keg roared to life, powered by Gragas's signature brew, and they zoomed across the water towards the Syren. The spray of the sea and the scent of hops filled the air as they sped towards their destination.