League of legends tristana

League Of Legends Tristana Kommentar-Regeln

Wohingegen viele andere Yordle ihre Zeit mit Entdeckungen, Erfindungen oder einfach Unfug verbringen, fühlte sich Tristana schon immer von den Abenteuern​. Wie die meisten Yordle war Tristana immer fasziniert von der Welt jenseits von Bandle. Sie reiste voller Staunen und Begeisterung für all die unterschiedlichen. Passiv: Die Reichweite von Tristanas normalen Angriffen, von Sprengladung und von Donnerschuss. Detaillierter League of Legends Tristana Guide inkl. Skillreihenfolge, die wichtigsten Items, Beschwörerzauber, Runen und Meisterschaften. League of Legends Beschwörer Ranglisten, Statistiken, Fähigkeiten, Item-Builds, Champion Stats. Beliebtheit, Winrate, die besten Items und Spells.

League of legends tristana

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League Of Legends Tristana Video

How to Play TRISTANA ADC for Beginners - TRISTANA Guide Season 10 - League of Legends MelonforPres NA. Her eyes are cold, Gina getson she Melody jordan nude the beauty of the trees like a woodsman sharpening an axe. She had heard much about Runeterra, its factions, and its wars, and believed her Since then,Tristana has defended the bandlewoods from innumerable Sera ichijo. A bronze circlet holds his long dark hair from his face, and his tunic has been cut to show off his muscular build. Brandmalkolben Set. International Priority Imagenes de culones. Falls Polno casero deine Linsen mit einer Sehstärke Mehr zum Thema Zustand. Internationaler Versand mit Sendungsverfolgung. Auf die Beobachtungsliste.

League Of Legends Tristana - Tristana Runen für Adc in League of Legends

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They were likely fast by human standards, but to her they moved like lumbering giants. She gave a wild, whooping yell as she sailed over their heads.

Even as she arced through the air she was reloading. She pushed off from the trunk of a tree and spun back to the ground.

Tristana fired two blasts, and both humans cried out in pain as they each took a wound to the rump. The woman fell flat on her face, beating her britches as powder burn set them alight.

She managed to pick herself up and flee into the bushes with her backside on fire. The other bandits were dragging themselves away as fast as their wounded limbs would carry them.

She let them go, grinning as she gathered up her things before stamping down the fire. Tristana slung Boomer over her shoulder and set off once more, whistling a jaunty tune as she looked for more stars to name.

On a clear night—like this night, in fact—when the moon is full and ripe, silver light glitters on star-shaped leaves with hair-fine fronds like threads of silk, and night-blooming Seleneia render my glade a magical wonderland.

A traveler might catch the scent of far distant continents on the wind. Only hints, to be sure, but such hints! A bouquet of desert spices, sun-baked stone, and salt from the crests of racing waves, mingled with the evergreen sap-scent of highland firs.

You might think such a turn of phrase overly whimsical, words that might tumble from the lips of a hopeless romantic, or a lovelorn poet.

Their eye might follow it around, gradually sensing an order to the play of light and shadow across the bark of a tree, or in the ripples upon a pool of water.

A pattern that almost looks like it might just form a doorway of sorts, if only it would complete. But no matter how those patterns swirl and dance, they never fully coalesce into a whole.

Almost never, that is. We nature spirits are drawn to places like this. They nurture us, as we in turn nurture them.

I flatter myself that the glade I inhabit is more infused with it than most other places in this land that mortals call Noxus—if you know the right way to look.

Two of them are approaching now. Nor do they travel straight, like those of the men who call the lands hereabouts home. I can hear them, just beyond the spirit veil, bickering like a pair of hungry foxes.

Mortals are coming this way. Armored in steel and stone, bearing instruments of death. They pave over the land with roads that do not curve. They use their axes and saws to clear the land of growing things.

They are an empire of angles and order. A woman with long brown hair is the first to enter my wooded glade. She halts her mount in the middle of the glade and sits in silence.

She hears birdsong, the sighing of the forest, and the burbling stream flowing over time-smoothed rocks. Most people who come here are calmed by these sounds, their souls replenished simply by being in nature.

The woman is patient, and only after several minutes pass does she lift her arm and spread her fingers wide.

Moments later, a dozen riders appear at the edge of the glade. Their horses are exhausted, flanks lathered white and heads bowed.

These animals have carried their riders a great distance, so I extend a little magic into their tired limbs.

They whinny and toss their manes in gratitude. A mustachioed man clad in leather and furs rides towards the woman.

A bronze circlet holds his long dark hair from his face, and his tunic has been cut to show off his muscular build.

A wolf-pelt cloak mantles his shoulders, and a pair of circle-grip axes are slung at his back. Like the woman, his gaze makes me fear what he might do to the trees.

She ignores his questions. Fresh water and plentiful wood. She slides from her saddle, and as soon as her boots hit the ground, I recoil from the stone in her veins, the iron in her soul.

The sounds in the glade dim, but none of the humans notice. She looks at him, then sighs and shakes her head. I feel the irresistible call of their key, and push a little of my power into the spirit realm to open the way.

One of the silverbark trees shifts her branches windward slightly, and the last rays of sunset complete a glowing amber pattern on the gnarled knots of her mossy trunk.

Shadow, light and ridged bark combine to form an endless loop that, from a certain angle and a certain height, looks like a portal into a land of eternal sunrise.

Whispers and song echo from the arbor in the heart of the tree. It sounds like the winds are speaking, passing secrets between the trees.

Maybe they are—you can never really know what the winds are saying. The grass around the base of the silverbark ripples in a warm breeze that carries a multitude of stories from another realm.

They roll into the high grass, looking surprised to find themselves in a forest glade. One of them immediately picks herself up, and brings her big cannon to bear.

She spins around. Left then right. She draws a bead on a rabbit with a half-chewed ear, poking a twitching nose from its burrow.

But then rabbits are stoic. You want a secret kept, but have to tell someone? Her purple skin is flushed a deeper shade than normal, and her white hair is swept back in a tight ponytail.

Ah, Lulu and Pix. Her wild purple hair billows in a wind that only seems to affect her, and her tall hat sits at a funny angle.

Lulu gets up and walks in a circle, tapping the ground in front of her. The flowers duck, and the buzzing glitterbugs scatter before Pix can pluck their wings.

Tristana sighs in exasperation. She taps two fingers to her eyes, then points them at the rabbit with a stern look. Her jaw drops as she finally notices the humans in the glade.

She darts over to Lulu and pushes her back against the tree. The portal they fell from is already fading as the light changes.

I bend the shadows around the trees a little. Tristana glances around the tree. Draven is grumbling about that, but Tamara is adamant they not broadcast their presence.

I make sure all the wood in this glade is green and not good for fires. Tristana rolls her eyes, finally taking the time to examine her surroundings.

I lift up some flowers and wave to her. She looks up at the tree and gives it an experimental rap with her knuckles.

She taps gently around the bark, before finally hearing a booming echo from deep inside the tree. Some of the Noxians look up, and she winces.

I creak some branches, and persuade the water to splash playfully over the rocks. The Noxians return to their work.

Lulu does a pirouette and pats herself down, checking pockets that seem to appear and disappear at random. She closes one eye, and bites her lip, pulling out coins, dice, chips of precious stones and glittering fluff.

But nothing resembling a key. She pauses to stare at Tristana. Are you and her actually the same yordle?

Same hair, and that little furrow just above your nose when you get mad. See, there it is! Lulu sighs, making a theatrical show of befuddlement.

She looks up at the darkening sky and snaps her fingers. The glade is bathed in the glow of a thousand stars and a secret gathering of moons.

It looks like a cross between a budding seedpod and a curling seashell. A rainbow of colorful lines swirls on its surface, and what look like tiny tadpoles swim inside it.

The silverbark cries out in pain, so I pour magic up through her roots and into the heartwood. It rolls into the tall grass, and I feel its primal energies pulse outwards in a rippling wave.

A veritable flurry of black-shafted arrows slices through the undergrowth as the Noxians respond the only way they know how. An arrow punches into the rotten wood.

Fresh wildflowers of blue, gold, and crimson instantly bloom on the dead wood. The last thing we want in the glade is a fire! Tamara runs to her horse and draws a slender rapier from a saddle scabbard.

Draven shrugs, and his aura gives no sense of any alarm or care at being proven wrong. All I sense is glee at the chance to spill blood. Yes, I definitely dislike him more than Tamara.

Mortals almost always miss their impact on the world around them. The Noxian warriors spread through the glade, moving forward in pairs, as archers loose steady volleys of arrows to keep the two yordles from moving.

I know nothing of war, but even I can see the deadly tactics of the Noxians will see Lulu and Tristana dead. Magic surges through the ground in a powerful wave.

I weave loops of grass that tangle the feet of the first Noxian soldier, a great brute of a man with a double-bladed axe.

He goes down hard, slicing open his arm as he falls flat on his face. His companion trips over him, dropping her sword, and the man cries out in pain as it stabs a handspan into his buttock.

An amberwood tree twists its trunk and whips its willowy branches around like a catapult. It smacks a crouching archer in the face, and he topples backwards.

The arrow he was poised to loose goes straight up in the air. A careful gust of wind, and it plunges down between his legs, tearing his britches open at the crotch.

He yelps in alarm and scrambles back on his haunches. Increases Tristana's Attack Range as she levels. Tristana fires her weapon rapidly, increasing her Attack Speed for a short time.

Tristana fires at the ground to propel her to a distant location, dealing damage and slowing surrounding units for a brief period where she lands.

When Tristana kills a unit, her cannonballs burst into shrapnel, dealing damage to surrounding enemies. Can be activated to place a bomb on a target enemy that explodes after a short duration dealing damage to surrounding units.

Tristana loads a massive cannonball into her weapon and fires it at an enemy unit. Tristana AD Carry. Summoner Spells. All Roles.

All regions All. All champions. Get this data directly in the client. Download the Porofessor app. See more. Can be activated to place a bomb on a target enemy that explodes after a short duration dealing damage to surrounding units.

This deals Magic Damage and knocks the target back. If the target is carrying the Explosive Charge bomb, the bomb detonation radius is doubled.

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League Of Legends Tristana Video

HOW TO PLAY TRISTANA ADC \u0026 DOMINATE FOR BEGINNERS - Tristana Commentary Guide - League of Legends

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