In the shimmering, storm-choked peaks of the Freljord, there was a legend that even the Ursine whispered with a shiver. Volibear, the Thousand-Pierced Bear, needed no introduction. He was the storm. He was the wrath of the wild. But after millennia of the same iron-gray lightning and the same crack of thunder, even a god grows weary.
The canyon filled with purple and green lasers. The snow melted into a puddle of glitter. Sejuani’s hardened warriors dropped their axes, their legs jerking uncontrollably. One man started doing the robot. Another cried tears of shame as he executed a perfect spinning back-kick to the beat.
The armor was sleek, dark synth-leather with electric magenta piping. The shoulder plates were shaped like massive subwoofers. The helmet was a bear skull, but polished to a mirror shine, with visor-like LED eyes that pulsed in rhythm to an unheard beat. volibear custom skin
Volibear stared at it. He thought of his brother’s endless lectures on honor. He thought of the frostbitten priests chanting the same tired hymns. He thought of the boredom .
He smiled. For the first time in a hundred years, the storm had found a new rhythm. In the shimmering, storm-choked peaks of the Freljord,
The first time he tested the skin was against a scouting party of Winter's Claw. Sejuani raised her flail, Bristle grunted. Volibear simply dropped his ultimate.
With a sigh that shook the snow from the pines, he put it on. He was the wrath of the wild
He found a broken capsule, its metal casing shimmering like oil on water. Inside was not a weapon, but a suit of armor—or rather, a costume . A note, written in a language of spinning icons, read: "For the God who has everything. Try something new."