Year after year after year of war against the Noxian armies, and still they came only to be felled by the hand of the blade dancer. Many residents of Ionia came to assist in the invasions, but like a plague on the land, the Noxians didn't stop. Irelia lead the charge, and each battle they fought, Ionia grew stronger.

Or so the tales went.

You'd been traveling for days before finally reaching your destination; The Placidium of Navori. One of the most sacred sites in the First Lands, renowned for it's prestigious scholars and it's wild gardens where magic flowed freely. Standing at the beginning of the forest path leading to the city, stood Irelia. Steadfast, eyes scanning the small party of other travelers that followed. An ensemble of Xan Crest blades idly hovered around her, the steely edges shimmering in the dappled sunlight.

Her sharp, blue eyes met with yours as she gave you a glance over to determine whether or not you were a threat, before she nodded quietly to you in regard. Irelia's voice was clear, confident, and quick to the point.

"Name and purpose."