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Pure Shaper - Keen Senses

Ronan may cast his abilities freely. Ronan's wards are empowered by his heightened sense of hearing, augmenting normal ward vision with sight over walls and terrain.


Ronan dashes in target direction, resetting his basic attack cooldown and causing his next basic attack within 5 seconds to deal bonus physical damage. The bonus is equal to 20% / 25% / 30% / 35% / 40% of Ronan's Basic Attack damage. Ronan will not dash through terrain with Bolt.


Ronan throws his vim ampoules into the air around him. After 0.75 seconds they inject into him, removing all disabling effects. If any disabling effect was removed, Ronan gains 18% / 22% / 27% / 31% / 35% increased Movement Speed for 3 seconds.

On The House

Ronan throws a burning flask in target direction, impacting on the first target hit or after reaching max distance. On The House deals between 40 / 65 / 90 / 115 / 140 (+0.3) to 60 / 95 / 130 / 165 / 200 (+0.6) physical damage to all targets in a cone and reveals them for 3 seconds. The damage dealt is decreased against targets that are further from the impact point.


Ronan embodies Justice for the next 6 seconds, causing his basic attacks during this period to deal 50 / 75 / 100 (+0.2) bonus physical damage to his primary target and additionally ricochet to nearby enemy Shaper with the lowest percent Health to deal 75 / 110 / 145 (+0.6) physical damage. Reckoning will seek out 2 targets to damage if Ronan is attacking with a Bolt-enhanced basic attack.



Talking about justice, gentlekin? You know the camp at Ten Trees? My brother Feylan and I worked there, jobbing on barges to and from Maridia. Didn’t bother no one. Stayed out from underfoot. Some longshanks from Ranciello came around. Merchants’ kids, smarting for trouble. Sport for them, yeah? One of them shoved into Feylan, said he’d tried to pick his pocket. “You know what ottrekin are like.” I stood up and told it was false. Said they weren’t the sort we wanted to see in Ten Trees. Told ‘em to let my brother go, and get themselves to the edge of camp. They laughed. Made it so I couldn’t see no more. Then they made me listen. Feylan screamed and begged until his voice gave out. For mercy, at first. Then for death. Until he choked on the blood. Until the breathing stopped. Nobody did nothing. Just stared into their drinks. Like you lot are doing. Justice. A fine principle. I put a mess of stock in it, as it happens. But it don’t stand up in reality. Mortals ain’t never got the knack of it. And hell, our sort? What manner of justice do ottrekin ever get? You mark me, gentlekin. There’s a powerful lot of bad folk in this world. You ain’t gonna stop them pissing on you by asking nice, appealing to some better nature they ain’t got. You need a bad sort of your own. One who ain’t gonna flinch from maiming and killing in turn. When you need a bad man, give a holler. Tell me I can handle it how I see fit. Put it in writing. Then shut your muzzle and stand back. I’ll pay the blood for your peace. And one day you will need me. Don’t think you won’t.

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