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Elise ist eine tödliche Jägerin, die in einem verlassenen und düsteren Palast tief in der ältesten Stadt von Noxus haust. Einst war sie sterblich und die Gebieterin. Elise - Champions - Das Universum von League of Legends. Elise ist eine tödliche Jägerin, die in einem verlassenen und düsteren Palast tief in der unsterblichen Bastion von Noxus haust. Einst war sie sterblich und die. Menschengestalt - Passiv: Wenn die Fähigkeiten von Elise ein Ziel treffen, erhält Da das Finale der League of Legends-Weltmeisterschaft näher kommt. Detaillierter League of Legends Elise Guide inkl. Skillreihenfolge, die wichtigsten Items, Beschwörerzauber, Runen und Meisterschaften.

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Read Elise - Die Spinnenkönigin from the story LoL - League of Legends - Geschichten über Champions by Nola_Kairos (Nola Kairos) with 2 reads. lol, league. Menschengestalt - Passiv: Wenn die Fähigkeiten von Elise ein Ziel treffen, erhält Da das Finale der League of Legends-Weltmeisterschaft näher kommt. Detaillierter League of Legends Elise Guide inkl. Skillreihenfolge, die wichtigsten Items, Beschwörerzauber, Runen und Meisterschaften.

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HOW TO PLAY ELISE JUNGLE \u0026 CARRY LOW ELO! - Elise Beginners Guide Season 10 LEAGUE OF LEGENDS Mal beteiligt bist. Elise Jungler. Du Watchcartoons online für jeden gegnerischen Champion, an dessen Tod du zum 1. Abklingzeit: entsprechend der Dauer des Verbrauchsgegenstands Beliebtheit: 1. Beliebtheit: 4. Heilung: 1. Einst war sie sterblich und die Gebieterin über ein mächtiges Haus, bis der Biss eines Hookers xxx Halbgottes sie in etwas All rights reserved. Pro erschienenem Zombie-Auge erhältst du einen adaptiven Bonus von 1. Alle Regionen Alle. Beschwörer Spells. Beliebtheit: 3. Einst war sie sterblich und die Gebieterin über ein mächtiges Haus, bis der Biss eines niederträchtigen Halbgottes sie in etwas Beliebtheit: Menschliche Form: Betäubt die erste getroffene gegnerische Einheit und macht sie sichtbar, Gordas desnuda sie nicht getarnt ist. Erlaubt dir, Biggest cumshot die Obergrenze für Angriffstempo zu überschreiten. Erhalte einen adaptiven Bonus von 1. Alle Hot mom in tight jeans. Elise Jungler.

After gaining 10 stacks, additionally gain 10 adaptive force. Upon completing your collection at 10 eyeballs, additionally gain an adaptive bonus of 6 Attack Damage, or 10 Ability Power.

Collect 1 eyeball per champion takedown. Healing: 1. Bounty Hunter stacks are earned the first time you get a takedown on each enemy champion. Healing reduced to one third for Area of Effect abilities.

Cooldown: 60s Popularity: 0. Cooldown: 15 seconds Popularity: 0. Higher cooldown Summoner Spells grant more Movement Speed.

Popularity: 1. Popularity: 6. Grants 1. Cooldown: 10s Popularity: 1. May you be as swift as the rushing river and agile as a startled Rift Scuttler.

Popularity: 2. Cooldown: 4s Popularity: Earn progress toward Legend stacks for every champion takedown, epic monster takedown, large monster kill, and minion kill.

Popularity: 5. Hexflash: Channel for 2s to blink to a new location. Cooldown: 20s. Goes on a 10s cooldown when you enter champion combat.

Spider Form: Basic attacks deal bonus magic damage and restore health to Elise. Human Form: Deals damage based upon how high the target's Health is.

Spider Form: Lunges at an enemy and deals damage based upon how low their Health is. Human Form: Releases a venom-gorged Spiderling that explodes when it nears a target.

Human Form: Stuns the first enemy unit hit and reveals them if they are not stealthed. This section helps highlight champions that Elise usually wins against and champions that counter Elise.

Show More Good Matchups. Show More Even Matchups. Show More Bad Matchups. This shows how Elise does when any of the following champs are anywhere on the enemy team:.

This shows how Elise does when any of the following champs are anywhere on the champion's team:. Recent Champion Changes:. Here's what we could find in recent patch notes for Elise.

Relevant Item Changes:. Here's what we could find in recent patch notes for items used often by Elise. Movement This Week. Images and graphics are property of their respective owners.

All rights reserved. League of Legends and Riot Games Inc. Privacy Policy. User Agreement. Olaf Jungle.

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Spider Form: Lunges at an enemy and deals damage based upon how low their Health is. Human Form: Releases a venom-gorged Spiderling that explodes when it nears a target.

Human Form: Stuns the first enemy unit hit and reveals them if they are not stealthed. Spider Form: Elise and her Spiderlings ascend into the air and then descend upon target enemy.

After descending on an enemy target, Elise's bonus damage and healing from Spider Queen is increased. She felt his approach, fully aware of what had drawn him to her shuttered manse on this bitterly cold night.

And who had likely sent him. Nyam moved over the rooftops with soft and sure footsteps, his loose-fitting tunic and cloak of gray wool making him all but invisible.

He kept low, just below the tiled ridges of the buildings, carefully judging every step over the thin layer of snowfall.

A loose tile, a patch of ice—that was all it would take to end this night in death, his body broken on the cobbled street.

But Nyam had plundered tombs sunk deep in the sands of his homeland, and climbed the cliff-temples on the road to Marrowmark in search of treasure.

He had evaded traps set in the ruins of kings and gods, so the swaybacked rooftops of Noxus—uneven, high, and filled with pitted hand- and footholds—offered little in the way of challenge to a thief of his skill.

Sheathed across his shoulder, it had been a knife to the dead god, but was a sword to Nyam. The place his paymaster had spoken of was just ahead, looming like a grand shadow of its former glory, its windows shuttered, and its gambrel roof rotten where tiles had slipped loose and fallen to the streets below.

Nyam reached the icicle-hung gable at the end of a roof, and perched at its edge with perfect balance as he uncoiled a length of rope from his belt.

He unfolded the hooks of a grapnel and, with practiced ease, cast it toward a gap between a row of cracked chimneys. The hook landed precisely where he had aimed, and he gave the rope a tug.

The cold air cut into him as he swung over, bracing his legs like a spring to bear the impact. His boots were soft, but he winced as the sound echoed throughout the crumbling building like a hammer upon an anvil.

Snow fell from the eaves, and Nyam took a moment, listening for any sign that he had been heard. Nyam coiled the rope and crouched in the shadow behind a chimney.

His breath misted the air, and he tugged a thick mitten of drüvask fur from his left hand, reaching up to place a bare palm on the stone.

Only a very few chimneys in this district smoked with a hearth fire. Other parts of the capital glimmered, ruddy with firelight.

Cookfires, warrior pyres beyond the walls, and braziers set in shrines to the Wolf. This area of the city felt all but abandoned, the empty windows of its black stone structures seeming like they had never known light.

Tattered curtain cloth was frozen stiff by the sighing winds funneled through the narrow streets. Pallid moonlight cast its radiance over empty streets, where the snow lay undisturbed.

How such a deserted space could exist in a city where every inch of ground was precious was a mystery to Nyam, but this was where his employer had directed him.

Flakes of snow swirled around him as he descended, diamond motes glittering in the faint moonlight. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom within the manse, seeing that he hung within what appeared to be a grand receiving room with a wide fireplace of gold-veined marble.

Linen-draped furniture was situated around the room: long couches, wide divans pushed up against the walls, and empty chairs.

Judging by the icy stiffness of the fabric, Nyam guessed many years had passed since this room had been shuttered. The parquet floor was strewn with tiles and broken roof timbers, and he carefully placed his leading foot between the debris, testing for creaks and groans.

Slowly he let his weight settle, and released the rope. Nyam pushed back his hood and ran a hand over his shaven scalp, the skin dark and stubbled, tattooed, and pierced with ivory needles like a thorny crown.

He crouched low and placed his palm on the floor, closing his eyes and letting the bones of the manse speak to him. A faint hiss like a thousand whispered voices speaking in unison, a soft sense of motion all around him.

A crawling sensation traveled the length of his spine, and he suppressed a shiver, telling himself it was just the cold fingers of the north wind.

He eased his gaze around the room, not letting his eyes fix on any one point, allowing his peripheral vision to catch any movement.

He saw nothing, only the swirl of snowflakes and the tiny fluttering of cloth. The elegantly written letter had been precise: enter the Zaavan mansion, find the library, and steal the designated artifact.

The instructions described a grand library in the eastern wing of the manse, a room entered via tall doors of ebon black, just off the mezzanine above an octagonal atrium.

Nyam rose and moved to the walls, where the timber floor would be less likely to creak with his weight, and edged along them to a wide door at the far end of the room.

It hung ajar, and gusts of soft wind sighed through from beyond. A narrow table ran its length, still set for a lavish dinner, with painted ceramic plates and gleaming silver cutlery laid out in anticipation of guests who would never arrive.

Platters were piled high with frost-dusted fruit and icy cuts of meat. Would such meat be edible, preserved by the cold?

At the center of the table was a domed silver tray, and a sudden curiosity made him want to see what lay beneath. And a swirling mass of creatures erupted from a moldering joint of beef, gloss-black and skittering—spiders fleeing the light in their hundreds.

None was larger than his thumbnail, and Nyam flinched in horror as they spilled from the edge of the table in a squirming tide. He winced, and his hand snapped to the sword at his shoulder.

Cursing his stupidity, Nyam moved swiftly to a curtained window, finding the shadows and becoming one with the darkness. Stillness was his ally, and he remained utterly motionless, waiting for any sign his foolish mistake had been heard.

He strained to hear something amiss—a sullen watchman, or even perhaps the owner of this house. If anything, the house felt somehow quieter, as though something else was right next to him, invisibly watching and waiting.

The seconds became minutes, and finally, Nyam let out a relieved sigh. The house was empty and abandoned, something once grand now reduced to a ruin.

Elise crawled from her cellar lair to the ground floor of the manse, moving swiftly along the walls and fluted columns to the mezzanine, each of her multiple limbs in perfect synchrony.

Her chittering spiderling host followed in her wake, eager to race ahead and swarm this intruder, but she held them back for now.

Her arachnoid form was as black as midnight, segmented and deadly, with an abdomen patterned with blood-red streaks. Her bladed and slender legs moved lightly, making no sound at all.

A clash of metal echoed from within as her foreclaw reached for the door. She paused, and her scuttling host did so too, gently swaying on their many legs.

Elise pushed the memory away. Even now, centuries later, the pain of that night still lingered. Despite drinking the antidote to the poison, she had drifted near death for weeks after his betrayal.

Yet as agonizing as those weeks had been, they had signaled the coming of her rebirth. Elise paused, savoring the rising tension in the thief—but beneath that, she tasted long-buried fears and a will to survive past torments, which found their echo within her.

Elise turned from the dining room and swiftly crossed the mezzanine to a set of tall black doors. The door opened into a high-ceilinged atrium, eight sided and rising to a stained-glass dome high above.

The mezzanine floor ran around the edges of the atrium, though its timbers had collapsed in several places, and the curving staircase leading down to the vestibule was in ruins far below.

Fragments of colored glass lay shattered in the vestibule, and Nyam peered up into the gloom to see the broken portions of the dome had been sealed with some kind of pale fibrous resin or gum.

Thick cobwebs spanned the upper reaches of the atrium, and Nyam saw wet-looking bundles held fast within them, squirming with a grotesque internal motion.

Whatever they were, it was no concern of his. Directly across from the dining room were a pair of imposing doors of jet-black wood, polished and gleaming like dark mirrors.

Nyam slipped across the mezzanine, carefully testing the integrity of the floor with each step before committing his weight. The wood creaked and groaned, but held.

He reached the doors and tested a handle, grimacing in revulsion as his hand came away sticky with a gummy yellow-white residue. The door clicked open, and Nyam forgot his disgust as he heard a soft sound, like sand spilling over rocks.

Rats were a common enough sight in Noxus. Its shelves were high, crafted with love and care from pale wood with a fine, contoured grain.

Every bookcase had been violently emptied—leather-bound tomes, scrolls, and sheaves of paper cast to the floor in disarray, books likely worth a small fortune lying amid ancient scrolls that had been torn like discarded army scrip tokens.

Artifacts of strange and unusual design had been smashed to pieces, and statues of onyx and jade lay broken into shards.

A swaying black chandelier hung from a slender cord over the center of the room. And there, at the far end of the chamber, was a cabinet of dark wood and cold iron, from which a soft illumination pulsed.

He wondered why anyone would destroy such a treasure trove of wisdom and imagination. This chaos had the hallmarks of someone wreaking havoc in blind fury.

Judging by the dust gathered on the embossed covers and gilded spines, that rage had been spent long ago. He bent to lift a book from the floor, its pages brittle with age.

Portions of its thick leather cover bore the same glistening residue from the door handle. He opened it, and saw the harsh, angular script of the old tongue of Noxus, a language only the highborn patricians ever used.

Placing the book back on the floor, Nyam pressed on, hearing the soft sound of sand over stone once again. He paused, trying to pinpoint the noise, but it was all around him.

Finally, he reached the cabinet, its black wood oddly glistening with a patina of moisture that seemed to be oozing from within, as though something inside was leaking.

Careful not to touch the liquid, he bent to sniff it. He knelt to examine the cabinet from the ground up, looking for any trap mechanisms, his ungloved hands gliding over the wet wood in search of catches, switches, or latches.

His awareness of his surroundings faded, all his attention focused on the cabinet and whatever lethal surprises it might have in store.

Its doors appeared to be secured by the simplest of locks. Nyam ran his fingertips around the handles, then drew a mirror from his pouches and used it to peer within the mechanism of the pinlock.

No spring-loaded needle, no glass pellet of lethal gas, nor any inscribed curses or magical trap runes. Satisfied the lock was just as it seemed, he reached up and slid out one of the longer ivory needles from a pierced fold of skin on his scalp.

He pressed it into the lock and gently eased the iron pins from their holes. He was suddenly ravenous, ready to tear raw flesh from the bone and drain entire vats of beer.

His appetite from the dining room returned tenfold, and for a fleeting second, he considered going back to take one of the cuts of meat from the table.

Sitting within was a crystalline hourglass encased in a delicate framework of brass. It stood two handspans tall, and tumultuous clouds of blue light spiraled inside, moving restlessly back and forth, from top to bottom.

Droplets of red water seemed to sweat from the smoky glass, forming a glossy crimson pool that was the source of the moisture seeping from the cabinet.

He pulled his gloves back on and carefully lifted the hourglass. It felt warm, like a roasted shank of meat fresh from a clay oven, and he closed his eyes as his mind filled with bloody horrors….

Nyam set the hourglass back down, all but overcome by the gut punch of the gory imagery, and disgusted with himself as his craving surged.

He unfastened the clasps securing his cloak and removed it, before swiftly wrapping the hourglass within.

Every surface of the library was swathed in glistening strands of web, stretching in taut lines from the bookshelves to the floor. Partially shuttered windows were rendered opaque and sealed to their frames, with scattered books and scrolls submerged beneath undulant dunes of white silk.

The rustling sound of sand over rocks intensified, and Nyam drew his black-bladed sword as he saw the ceiling squirm with thousands of spiders in crimson and jet.

More of them crawled toward him in a black tide, squeezing fat bodies from cracks in the walls and floor, swarming over one another to reach him.

It unfolded from the central point, and a huge, segmented body uncurled to reveal a monstrous spider with a pulsing black abdomen streaked with vivid crimson.

Its eyes settled upon Nyam as it lowered from the ceiling. Even as it descended on its cord of silk, its outline seemed to fold in on itself, reshaping and swelling into a new form like a larva emerging from its chrysalis.

Its body stretched to assume the curves of a voluptuous woman clad in red and black, in silk and damask. But it was her eyes, twin pools of ruby light framed by a chitinous crown, that kept Nyam pinned in place.

Her tapered foot touched the ground, and she stepped toward him like a ribbon dancer coming down after a flawless performance in the air.

Nyam tried to speak, but his tongue turned to turgid leather, his fingers tightening on the grip of his sword.

Her beauty was otherworldly and intoxicating, repellent and achingly desirable all at once. He craved the embrace of her slender limbs, even as he knew that touching her hideous body would be the death of him.

He took a step toward her, trying to quell the rising terror of his wildly beating heart. How would it be to have them fasten on my arm, to feel her venom coursing through my veins?

Nyam began circling around her, edging toward the black doors. She stepped closer, the spiders parting before her.

The hooked limbs at her back flexed as she rolled her shoulders. But your tally of death is insignificant when set next to mine.

I am the Lady Elise, and you are just the latest fly to wander into my web. She somersaulted toward the doors, springing from the wall in a graceful arc.

Nyam cried out in fury as the hourglass was wrenched from his grip. It flew back through the air and slammed hard into the wood of the cabinet, the brass frame buckling with the impact.

The artifact landed on the spun softness of the webs covering the floor, and rolled onto its side. More smoke was pouring out—thicker, darker, reeking of old blood and fear.

It swirled with red lightning, a storm of cold light and hunger. A terrible outline began to form, broad and bloated, a vast figure in thick plates of rusted and decaying armor.

A horned skull took shape, with a fanged maw that creakingly stretched wide with hideous appetite. Nyam made the Sign of the Sun across his heart as a host of smaller forms coalesced around the creature—wretched, half-digested spirits with missing arms, dislocated jaws, gouged-open chests, and scooped-out skulls.

Tethers of blood-red light bound them to the giant entity that feasted on them even as it enslaved them. He felt their pain, their horror at being slowly devoured.

But more terrible than that, he felt their awful need to save themselves from torment. The spirits recoiled, screeching in pain as the weapons cut through them.

The thief followed, hot on her heels, but the slave spirits of the soulgorger were far swifter than she had expected.

Their claws raked living flesh, and the thief cried out as a spirit sliced his shoulder and hip. Cold blue light poured into him, and he stumbled as more of the spirits closed in, tearing at them with icy talons as they fought, side by side, toward the library doors.

Elise gritted her teeth against the freezing numbness spreading from each wound, flowing through her like a soporific poison. They tumbled through the doors, and she threw him to the floor before turning back to the library.

Thousands more spiders were spilling onto the mezzanine from the levels below, scuttling down the walls, and pushing out between warped floorboards. The spiderlings flowed up the wall, furiously spinning webs as they went.

Sticky swathes of silk clogged the hair-fine gap between the doors, filled the keyholes, and sealed them shut.

Pulsing blue light built around the edges of the frame. The webs were holding for now, but already they were fraying, the resin-like substance running like melting wax.

Faint wisps of ethereal mist seeped through the gaps, along with ghostly hands and suggestions of wailing faces. She bent down, and a handful of spiders crawled onto her extended palms.

As she held them up before her face, she pictured what she needed, and they leapt from her hands, disappearing into cracks in the walls.

Elise threw open the dining room door, moving swiftly past the long table where her husband had betrayed her.

A spasm of venom pumped into the thief, and he flinched from the sudden hot rush of it, stumbling back and lifting his sword.

The blade wavered in his weakening grip, and Elise felt the heat of the magic wrought in the folds of its ancient metal. That touch is now inside you, leeching your life away with every last breath.

He steadied himself on the table, and Elise saw snaking lines of black spreading across his face. Nyam followed Elise into the chamber where he had first entered the shuttered manse.

His every step was leaden, every breath a battle. It was all he could do to place one foot in front of the other.

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