|Overview||Gallery||Statistics||Match History||Ban History|
|The Sheriff of Piltover|
|Release Date:||January 4th, 2011|
|Health:||475 (+ 85)|
|Health Regen:||5.65 (+ 0.55)|
|Mana:||313.7 (+ 35)|
|Mana Regen:||7.4 (+ 0.55)|
|Attack Damage:||62 (+ 2.18)|
|Attack Speed:||0.568 (+ 10 (+4)%)|
|Armor:||32 (+ 3.5)|
|Magic Resist:||30 (+ 0.5)|
|Base Skin Chroma|
Rebel Chroma Pack (585 )
Release Date: 2015-06-30
- 2nd bio
- 1st bio
- League Judgement
|A determined and skilled investigator, Caitlyn is one of the sheriffs of Piltover, the City of Progress. She is a fiercely intelligent woman with a strong sense of justice and a resolute devotion to the law. Armed with a magnificent hextech rifle, Caitlyn is a patient hunter and the bane of criminals throughout her city.
Born to a wealthy and influential family of hextech artificers in Piltover, Caitlyn swiftly learned the social graces of city life, but preferred to spend her time in the wilder lands to the south. Equally adept at mingling with the moneyed citizens of the City of Progress or tracking a deer through the mud of the forest, Caitlyn spent the bulk of her youth beyond Piltover’s gates. She could track a bird on the wing or put a bullet through the eye of a hare at three hundred yards with her father’s Bilgewater repeater musket.
Caitlyn’s greatest assets, however, were her intelligence and willingness to learn from her parents, who reinforced her innate understanding of right and wrong. Though the family’s engineering skills had made them wealthy, her mother always warned of Piltover’s seductions, of how its gilded promises could harden even the kindest heart. Caitlyn paid little attention to her mother’s warning, for Piltover was a city of beauty to her, a place of order she would cherish after each trip into the wild.
All that was to change one Progress Day, five years later.
Caitlyn returned from one of her long forays into the woodlands to find her home ransacked and empty. The family retainers were all dead, and no trace could be found of her parents. Caitlyn secured her home, and immediately set off in search of her mother and father.
Tracking quarry that does not want to be found within the confines of a city was very different from hunting in the wild, but, one by one, Caitlyn located the men who had invaded her home. None of these men knew the true identity of who had hired them, only that they had acted via a proxy with the initial “C.” The trail eventually led Caitlyn to a secret hextech laboratory where her mother and father were being forced to work for a rival clan under pain of death. Caitlyn rescued her parents, and the wardens, acting upon Caitlyn’s information, arrested the clan leader behind the kidnapping. She and her parents returned home and began to rebuild their lives, but something fundamental had changed in Caitlyn.
She had seen that Piltover could be a dangerous place, where ambition and greed were as deadly as a cornered beast. During the course of her investigation, Caitlyn had seen beneath Piltover’s veneer of progress and science. She had seen people in need of help, a host of souls lost and alone. And she had seen that she could help them. Though she loved her parents, Caitlyn had no desire to follow in their footsteps as an artisan, and looked for a way to earn a living in the sprawling metropolis. She established herself as an investigator of sorts, utilizing her skills as a superlative hunter to act as a finder of lost people and retriever of stolen property.
For her twenty-first birthday, Caitlyn’s parents presented her with a hextech rifle of exquisite artifice. The weapon was a thing of beauty, with specialized shells that enabled it to shoot with greater accuracy than any rifle she had ever owned. The weapon could also be modified to fire a variety of different ammunition types, and went with Caitlyn whenever she took a case.
Caitlyn knew Piltover’s nooks and crannies as thoroughly as the forest paths of her childhood, and turned a tidy profit in a profession that brought her into contact with the many and varied layers of society. Her profession exposed Caitlyn to a great deal of strange encounters that taught her, first-hand, the dangers of untested hextech and rogue chemtech development. Over the next few years, she quickly made a name for herself as someone to go to for help in matters both mundane and esoteric.
One particularly traumatic case involving a missing hextech device and a series of child abductions led to Caitlyn working closely with an agent of the Piltover Wardens; one who, like her, had developed something of an affinity for stranger cases. Caitlyn refused to give up, even when the trail grew colder with every passing day. She chased it like a dog would a bone, and eventually, broke the case. Caitlyn and the warden rescued the children after a battle with a host of rogue chimerics in the employ of a lunatic chem-researcher driven mad by his own concoctions. As she and the warden shared a celebratory drink, he offered her a job as a sheriff. At first, Caitlyn refused, but eventually came to realize that, with all the resources the wardens had to offer, she could potentially get closer to discovering the identity of the mysterious “C,” the only person involved in the attack on her family home she had yet to apprehend.
Caitlyn now works as a highly respected officer within the ranks of the Piltover Wardens to keep order in the City of Progress - particularly in areas where overzealous hextech artisans cross the line of what is acceptable in Piltover. She has recently partnered with a new recruit from Zaun, the brash and reckless Vi. How such an unlikely pairing came to be, and has proven to be so effective, is the subject of numerous wild rumors and tavern speculation among their fellow wardens and those they haul away to jail.
| "To be the best hunter, you have to be able to think like your prey."
|THE THRILL OF THE CHASE
The young man pointed left and said, “Down that way at a good clip.”
She followed his gaze and saw cheering theater-goers spilling from the Drawsmith Arcade, a vaulted structure of colored glass and ironwork columns. They mingled with stall-holders selling refreshments and promenade-girls looking for a wealthy mark. Mohan finally caught up to her, sweating and breathing hard. He bent at the waist and propped himself up with his palms on his knees. His blue uniform coat was askew and his hat tipped back over his head.
“Figures he’d try to lose himself in the crowd,” he said between gulps of air.
Caitlyn took a moment to study their public-spirited helper. His clothes were finely-tailored and must once have cost him a pretty penny, but the cuffs were frayed and the elbows worn. Her eyes narrowed as she took in last season’s colors and a collar that hadn’t been in style for a year.
Wealthy, but down on his luck.
Mohan turned toward the busy street and said, “Come on, Caitlyn! Let’s go or we’ll lose him.”
Caitlyn dropped to one knee to look at the street from a different perspective. The cobbles were slick from the evening rain and were well trodden. From this angle, she saw the scuffs of heel marks on stone that only a running man would leave. But they weren’t heading left, they were heading right.
“How much did Devaki give you to tell us that?” said Caitlyn to the unfashionably dressed young man. “If it was less than a gold hex, you were swindled.”
The young man put his hands up and said, “It was five, actually,” before turning tail and running toward the crowds with a laugh.
“What the...?” said Mohan, as Caitlyn sprinted in the opposite direction. She’d lost valuable seconds, but knew exactly where Devaki was going now. She soon left Mohan behind, her sometime partner a little too fond of the sugared pastries the District-Inspector’s wife made for her husband’s officers.
Caitlyn ran a winding path through the city, along seldom-traveled alleyways and crooked paths between the gables of tall, brick-fronted warehouses. She cut across busy streets, drawing cries of annoyance from those she barged out of her way. The closer she came to the great canyon bisecting Piltover, the narrower the streets became, but she was betting she knew the shortcuts of Piltover better than Devaki. After a dozen twists and turns, she emerged onto a crooked street of undulating cobbles that followed the jagged line of the cliff. Known locally as Drop Street thanks to the wheezing hexdraulic conveyer at the end that ran late into the night, it was deep in shadow.
The iron-framed cabin hadn’t yet opened, the lozenge-patterned grille still in the closed position. A group of fifteen Zaunites, a great many of whom were intoxicated, gathered around the ticket booth. None of them were the man Caitlyn was looking for. She turned and dropped to a crouch, resting the barrel of her rifle on a packing crate bearing the brand of Clan Medarda. Stolen property, no doubt, but she didn’t have time to check it.
Caitlyn thumbed the rifle’s primer switch to the upright position. A gentle hum built within the breech as she worked the action to ready a shot. She pulled the butt of the rifle hard against her shoulder and slowed her breathing. Her cheek pressed into the walnut stock and she closed one eye as she took aim through the crystalline lenses.
She didn’t have long to wait.
Devaki swung around the corner, his long coat billowing out behind him and his hat a tall silhouette. He appeared to be in no hurry, but then, he believed he had shed his pursuers. He held a heavy brass-cornered case in his metal-clawed hand; a crude thing Vi said he’d had done in one of Zaun’s ask-no-questions augmentation parlors when he was a foolish youth.
Caitlyn focused her aim on the pneumatic monstrosity and squeezed the trigger. A searing flash of orange-red exploded from the weapon’s muzzle and Devaki’s hand vanished in a pinpoint blast. He cried out and fell back, his hat toppling from his head as the case fell to the ground. Devaki looked up, his eyes widening in pain and surprise as he saw Caitlyn. He turned to run, but Caitlyn had been waiting for that. She toggled a thumb-switch on the breech and pulled the trigger again.
This time the beam struck Devaki in the back and exploded in a web of crackling energy. Devaki’s back arched and he fell, twitching, to the ground. Caitlyn powered down her rifle and slung it over her shoulder as she walked toward the fallen Devaki. The effects of the electro-net were dimming, but he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. Caitlyn bent to retrieve the case he’d dropped and shook her head with a tut-tut sound.
“H-h-h...how?” said Devaki, through the spasms wracking his body.
“How did I know where you were headed?” asked Caitlyn.
Devaki nodded, the movement jerky and forced.
“Your previous thefts were meaningless in themselves, but when I looked at them as part of a larger scheme, it seemed like you were gathering components to build a version of Vishlaa’s Hexylene Caliver,” said Caitlyn.
She knelt beside Devaki to place a hand on his rigid body.
“And as we all know, that weapon was outlawed as being too dangerous, wasn’t it? No one in Piltover would dare touch that kind of banned hex, but someone, maybe in Noxus? They’d pay handsomely for that, I imagine. But the only place you could get something like that out of the city is through one of Zaun’s less reputable smugglers. This is the only quick route down into Zaun that’s still running at this time of night. Once I saw you weren’t going to try and hide out in Piltover, all I had to do was get to the conveyor before you and wait. So you and I are going to have a long talk, and you’re going to tell me who you’re working for.”
Devaki didn’t answer, and Caitlyn grinned as she reached over his prone body.
“Nice hat,” she said.
|One of the reasons Piltover is known as the City of Progress is because it has an extraordinarily low crime rate. This hasn't always been the case; brigands and thieves of all sorts used to find the city-state an ideal mark for plunder, primarily due to the valuable resources it imports to fuel its techmaturgical research. Some even theorize that it would have fallen long ago to the chaos of organized crime if not for Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover.
Born the daughter of a wealthy statesman and a pioneering hextech researcher, Caitlyn discovered her natural gift for investigation when, at age 14, her father was assaulted and robbed on his way home. She snuck out of her house that night with her father's rifle and tracked down the muggers from the crime scene. At first, her parents did their best to discourage her from such risky hobbies, but she was incorrigible. Wishing to protect her daughter in the only way she knew how, Caitlyn's mother began outfitting her with techmaturgical devices tailored to her sleuthing needs.
Caitlyn quickly gained notoriety, as she was single-handedly defeating crime in Piltover and had developed into a ravishing beauty as well. She never backed down from a case or a challenge, and she was one of the sharpest shots in the city-state. Her services were soon requested by Demacia to help track down a mysterious outlaw who had begun committing high-profile heists.
The bandit, who always left a card with an ornate "C" at the scene of the crime, became Caitlyn's arch-nemesis. To this day, Caitlyn still searches for this cat burglar, and the chase has led her all across Valoran. As she travels, she seeks to hone her skills and gain the influence necessary to track down the only quarry that has managed to evade her.
| "Go ahead, run. I'll give you a five minute head start."
|One of the reasons Piltover is known as the City of Progress is because it has an extraordinarily low crime rate. This hasn't always been the case; brigands and thieves of all sorts used to find the city-state an ideal mark for plunder, primarily due to the valuable resources it imports to fuel its techmaturgical research. Some even theorize that it would have fallen long ago to the chaos of organized crime if not for Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover. Born the daughter of a wealthy statesman and a pioneering hextech researcher, Caitlyn discovered her natural gift for investigation when, at age 14, her father was assaulted and robbed on his way home. She snuck out of her house that night with her father's rifle and tracked down the muggers from the crime scene. At first, her parents did their best to discourage her from such risky hobbies, but she was incorrigible. Wishing to protect her daughter in the only way she knew how, Caitlyn's mother began outfitting her with techmaturgical devices tailored to her sleuthing needs.
Caitlyn quickly gained notoriety, both because she was single handedly defeating crime in Piltover and also because she soon developed into a ravishing beauty. She never backed down from a case or a challenge, and she was one of the sharpest shots in the city-state. Her services were soon requested by Demacia to help track down a mysterious outlaw who had begun committing high-profile heists. The bandit, who always left a card with an ornate "C" at the scene of the crime, became Caitlyn's arch-nemesis. To this day, Caitlyn still searches for this cat burglar, and the chase has led her all across Valoran. She has joined the League to hone her skills and gain the influence necessary to track down the only quarry that has managed to evade her.
| "Go ahead, run. I'll give you a five minute head start."
- Caitlyn, from her book "Willing Apprehension".
Date: 31 December, 20 CLE
Caitlyn enters the Great Hall with a series of whirs and clicks, as the lenses extending down from her hat adjust to allow her to study the space in meticulous detail. She has a long rifle slung over her shoulder, and she bears its weight so comfortably one would doubt she's ever without it. Her ensemble is as alive with the activity of gears as it is revealing, both facets competing for attention.
She takes the room in with the eye of an investigator, noting the placement of all objects. She scrutinizes the marble doors to the Reflecting Chamber with grim determination. Satisfied that she could analyze a crime scene there later if necessary, she pushes through the doors.
The darkness weighed on her skin like dew after a long stakeout, cool and sobering. As if in response to the thought, she heard the light patter of rain on cobblestone behind her. Startled, she spun around too quickly, banging her elbow against something solid. The "something" was a grimy brick wall on which a sinewy creature reminiscent of the Baron Nashor was graffitied in glorious detail. With conditioned skepticism, her eyes panned from the wall down the long alleyway next to her. She caught a gasp before it left her throat. Resilience Way. No matter how many hours she'd spent there, the place always gave her chills. Her gaze went to the sky, where she could see the spire of Constance Tower casting its familiar light out over the city, reminding Demacians never to slacken the grip on their ethical reins. Sadly ironic that the same tower allowed the fugitive, the mysterious "C", to escape when he was so nearly within her grasp.
She could recall every detail of the day on a whim. It sat in her memory like a picture of a dead lover taped to a mirror, there to remind you of what you could have had. The pursuit began in the lobby of the Artificer's Guild Hall in Demacia's crowded Honor Square. A student studying Advanced Techmaturgical Wafer Fabrication had, by chance, stopped at the Guild in order to speak with Moraj Wossit about her requirements for Guild entry. Wossit was some Average Joe paper-pusher who, unbeknownst to her and his superiors, had been ditching work early on Thursdays while he got, as he put it, "elective stress therapy". Caitlyn had heard that line enough to know that he meant "something my wife and kids shouldn't know about". So much for Demacia's bastion of morality, although in retrospect he could have just been watching a late League match with a brew for how tightly wound the city-state had its people. In any case, the student happened to barge into his office and found his desk in disarray with the window open. She retrieved a supervisor who, concerned, contacted the local authorities.
Caitlyn had been in town investigating the last enigmatic card that "C" had left. It was the fourth in a series of roughly identical cards he'd left at the scenes of his heists. All of them bore only a single character: "C". This one was left in place of the Celestial Crystal stolen from Freljord's Dervish Crystal Hall. She'd determined that he chose paper stock in slightly different shades to let her know which part of Valoran he planned to hit next. There was some meaning to the ink and font he used, but she hadn't cracked that yet at the time. Thanks to his earlier theft of the Greatsword of Milthorn from Demacia's Royal Palace, Caitlyn had deduced that he meant to show up there again, and she was speaking with the constable when the message came from Guild Hall. She accompanied the constable there on a hunch, and when they arrived, the lobby was rife with security goons.
The supervisor had been mindful enough to check the Senior Artificer's office, where Wossit had been provisioned with special access. When he got there, the office was in a similar state of chaos. Most importantly, the treasured Helm of the Protector, which had been carried to Demacia years before by League Champion Poppy, was missing from an open safe. It had been entrusted to the Artificer's Guild for some kind of magical tune-up, and the Guild monkeys had assured Caitlyn that the whole operation had been completely hush-hush. In the safe another card waited, mocking her inability to decipher its clues.
Security locked the building down immediately. Caitlyn was listening to the Chief of Security's recounting when she noticed one security officer who kept depriving her of a square look at his face. It was incidental enough to seem unimportant, but after five minutes of distracted glances, she decided to strike up a conversation. She made it a solid four steps in his direction before he bolted for the stairs.
She chased him up ten flights of stairs, never breaking stride. She reached the roof just in time to see him swinging away on a line affixed to the top of the Constance Tower. As he swung, it was clear that he'd calculated this escape to reach the roof of the Gillson's Training Hall. This was too close to let him slip away, so she leveled her rifle and took aim for a leg. Her quarry had slipped up this time, as he could not deviate from his path, and timing her shots was what Caitlyn did best.
She pulled the trigger.
In a flash, the perpetrator fell from the line. Caitlyn didn't understand; the bullet shouldn't have hit so soon. Time slowed to a crawl as she watched him descend through the air. She watched until he disappeared between the buildings and dashed back down the stairs.
And here she was again. Standing in Resilience Alley where he fell. There were witnesses everywhere who saw him fall into the alley, and yet it was empty. No body, no blood, no explanation for how he could have survived, and nobody saw him leave. That night, she sat there in that raining dump of an alley for hours, searching for an answer.
As though responding to the memory, a panel in the soaking cobblestone floor slid open.
Caitlyn leapt back, jerking her rifle off her shoulder in a practiced motion and training it on the hole. A low chuckle echoed out from the darkness.
"Tricky, aren't I?" A voice said.
Caitlyn couldn't come to grips with the situation quickly enough. "Step out slowly!"
"Nah, I'm not gonna do that." The voice was tinged with amusement.
"I'll give you ‘til the count of three. If you aren't in plain sight with your hands up, I'm just going to use the muzzle flash from this rifle to light my way." Caitlyn was accustomed to overcoming obstacles. "One..."
"You won't do it, you don't have the-"
"You know if you shoot me, you'll never find out how I-"
"Three." Caitlyn pulled the trigger, but the gun clicked hollowly.
"Why do you want to join the League, Caitlyn?" The voice was suddenly solemn.
"I'll ask the questions here! Who-" She didn't like being interrogated.
"Why do you want to join the League, Caitlyn?" There was a level of control in the voice that caused a sense of dread to creep up her spine.
"You already know the answer to that question or you wouldn't have taken me here." She waited, but no response came. "He's the only case I've had to leave open. I'll become better. I'm going to catch him, and the League will be my tool to do just that."
"How does it feel, exposing your mind?" The question came in a whisper from behind her ear, and the trap door in the alley snapped shut. She whirled about, but all she saw were the ornate marble doors of the Institute. Behind her lay the path to becoming a champion.
"If you want a piece of my mind, just ask next time. I'll save you the song and dance." She smirked, knowing that she was being watched, before slinging her rifle over her shoulder and continuing into the League.
- Caitlyn's Champion Page
- Universe of League of Legends Page
- Champion Sneak Peek - Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover
Journal of Justice