|Release Date||February 17th, 2022|
|595 (+ 94)|
|5.5 (+ 0.55)|
|350 (+ 50)|
|11.5 (+ 0.5)|
|51 (+ 3)|
|0.625 (+ 2.11%)|
|27 (+ 5.2)|
|30 (+ 1.3)|
|Game Info Wiki||leagueoflegends.fandom.com|
Renata Glasc is a champion in League of Legends.
|Renata Glasc rose from the ashes of her childhood home with nothing but her name and her parents’ alchemical research. In the decades since, she has become Zaun’s wealthiest chem-baron, a business magnate who built her power by tying everyone’s interests to her own. Work with her, and be rewarded beyond measure. Work against her, and live to regret it. But everyone comes to her side, eventually.
Life had not always been good to Renata Glasc.
Her parents were brilliant alchemists, focused on innovations for the healing arts. Dedicated to their work and their community in Zaun, they gave their care and their cures to anyone in need... regardless of whether their patients could afford them. Renata grew up accustomed to going to bed hungry, resentful of her parents’ ideology, yet powerless to change her circumstances. She dreamed of the ships that sailed through Piltover’s Sun Gate canal, imagining herself taking the wheel and steering her life in a new direction—toward the riches of the world.
When she was old enough to join the family business, it was quickly discerned that Renata had no aptitude for alchemy. She did, however, have ideas about turning a profit. In her first sales pitch, Renata convinced her parents that they wouldn’t need to ask anything more than people could give, if they started treating wealthier Zaunites. With loyal patients extolling the Glascs’ talents to their betters, their charity work was soon paid for by the rates Renata set for the rich.
Instead of living comfortably, however, the Glascs spent that money developing a highly refined chemtech formula to extend the lives of their sickest patients. No matter what they did, the formula always had unwanted side effects—such as making their patients extremely suggestible, or extremely violent—so they continued to try and improve their work. Only Renata, bitter at what her parents chose to do with the money she had earned them, wondered if the formula could be useful as is.
Up in Piltover, the elite clan leaders who had been making money off of Zaunite medical stopgaps heard whispers of the Glasc family’s research. Not willing to let anything threaten their bottom line, they paid off a handful of enforcers to “take care of it.” Renata woke to the sound of her parents’ screams as her home burned down around them. She lost her arm trying—and failing—to save them.
With only her family name and the scraps of research that survived the fire, Renata swore to avoid her parents’ mistake of thankless altruism. Instead, she threw herself into building her meager inheritance into something bigger, something that could give her everything she’d never had, something that would give her money and power and control. An empire.
As the years passed, she became the brains behind several successful small-time operations while building relationships with unsavory, but influential, individuals throughout the city. She’d give people jobs, lend them money, and give them medicine for their sick children—but never for free. If they couldn’t pay in coin, she demanded their loyalty.
Renata quickly realized that genius was the rarest and most lucrative commodity in Zaun and devised a plan to invest in destitute youths with a talent for innovation. She offered a space to work and stability for their families in exchange for their work in perpetuity. The poorest among them couldn’t afford to say no. Renata found herself with plentiful access to new and unique product designs, and novel uses for the chemtech formula that was her parents’ legacy. Profits soared. She then established Glasc Industries after purchasing the first of what would eventually be dozens of factories to manufacture her high-end chemtech products.
Glasc Industries quickly expanded across Zaun—from chemtech mining operations to dance halls to refineries—angering some barons who’d held monopolies over the ventures. But, one by one, Renata persuaded them all to go into business with her. And just like that, Renata quietly managed to become a chem-baron in her own right, and no one could push back for fear of upsetting their own cash flow. While Glasc Industries flourished, Renata herself remained in the shadows, waiting for the right time to make her next move.
That time came after a chemical accident sent poisonous fumes sweeping through the streets of Zaun, leaving the city in its worst state in decades. Amidst the noxious gray clouds, Glasc Industries offered basic breathers and replacement filters to everyone in the city… for free. Now everyone in Zaun knew of Renata Glasc and her benevolence. She had earned Zaun’s loyalty.
Word of her generosity swept through Piltover, as well. For the first time, shopkeepers looked seriously at Renata’s elegant and ultra-refined chemtech designs and soon lined their shelves with her products.
Now, every fashionable Piltovan owns at least one Glasc Industries product, and the wealthiest among them vie to sit beside Renata at novelty galas and the opera house. But Renata’s plan was never to be a chem-baron in Zaun or the corporate darling of Piltover.
No, she aims to take Piltover’s source of financial power for herself—the Sun Gate she had dreamed of so often in her youth. For she who controls the Sun Gate, controls the flow of trade; and she who controls the trade, controls the world. With a secret cache of her parents’ chemtech formula embedded in every Glasc product in both Piltover and Zaun, ready to be released at her command—side effects and all—it’s only a matter of time before everyone works for Renata Glasc.
|"We don't have to be enemies. Let me change your mind."|
|RIGHT ON TIME
Renata Glasc’s heels click angrily against the marble floors on her way to the front door. It’s a long walk, and her annoyance grows as the bells screech out the same cloying tune a second time.
The mechanical fingers of her left hand unfurl as she reaches for the latch, twisting and snapping into the necessary shapes, embedding in the bespoke lock as its one and only key.
She throws open the ornate copper door and looks down at her visitor. “Mave.” All of Renata’s high-ranking subordinates had been informed that her priority for the evening was debuting her Decanter at the Vesella Novelty Gala.
“Ms. Glasc,” the shorter woman says with a curt nod, her prosthetic iron eyes rattling against the glass of her gel-filled goggles. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“It must be important.”
“We’ve gotten wind of a new type of breather. Not just a filtration unit. An air purifier.”
Renata’s eyes flash. “My devisers said we had nothing to worry about on that front.”
Mave shrugs—not her department.
“Who’s manufacturing it?”
“Baron Midenstokke. Not sure where yet.”
She glances at her gaudy Piltovan clock. The gala begins in just under two hours, her presentation slot is at precisely 21:05, and she hasn’t even had time to pick up the Decanter from the laboratory yet… She sighs. It looks as though the gala will have to start without her.
Time to get the night back under control.
Basile, a worm of a man, grovels at Renata’s feet, dirtying her office floor with his soot-stained tears. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, breath still rank from whatever swill he’d been drinking when she’d interrupted his visit to the Corrodyne Taproom. “I’ll get the money to you in a week. Two, at the most.”
Renata says nothing, letting Basile squirm and sob on the floor a little longer. He had come to her for a loan six months ago for his wife’s replacement leg after an accident at a machinist’s shop. Renata gave him what he asked for, and got him a well-paying factory job to boot. But after his wife died from sepsis and Basile tried to drown his sorrows at the taproom… it’s no surprise he can’t pay.
It’s what she’s counting on.
“Do you think,” she asks finally, “that I need that money? That I would even miss it?”
“I’m not interested in money, dear Basile. Keep it.”
Basile’s eyes fill with tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Ms. Glasc—”
“But.” She holds up a finger to quiet him. “There is something I need from you.”
“You’re still working for Midenstokke, yes? Got a nice little promotion last month?”
Basile’s face falls. Not everyone has the stomach to get between two chem-barons. He swallows hard. “I can get you your money in… in four days, Ms. Glasc.”
“No, Basile.” Renata Glasc leans down. She can see the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You’ll get me the information I need, and you’ll get it to me within the hour.”
Elodat carefully moves aside the vials and burners, the metals and wires, the tools and masks that litter her own private workspace, and lays out the first few pages of designs. Renata watches as the deviser dons a loupe, looking closely at all of the details that make these new breathers tick. There are few she would trust with this new alchemical technology, but Elodat has proven her worth time and again since she first entered Renata’s employ at age twelve.
“These are unbelievable,” Elodat breathes reverently. “No filter system, no place for the toxins in the air to go. They just… destroy the toxins. Eliminate them completely.”
“And you understand how it works?” Renata asks. “Would you be able to replicate the results in a similar product?”
“Without question.” Elodat’s fingers twitch excitedly. “Is this my next project?”
“It is.” She pauses. “But make some part of it necessary to replace. Filters are a great way to keep money rolling in. Find our version of that for a purifier.”
Renata looks at Mave, who’s standing in the corner near the door and awaiting instructions. “We’re sure about the factory?”
Mave nods. “My scouts confirmed it. Just beneath Midenstokke’s dance hall in the Promenade as Basile said.”
“Excellent. 22:30, then. That should give us both plenty of time.”
Mave turns to leave, but Renata stops her and glances at the deviser. “Elodat, the Decanter’s show-ready, yes?”
Elodat snorts as she marks up the design documents. “Of course, Ms. Renata.”
Beside the deviser’s workstation sits the Decanter prototype. A weapon. A tool. A mechanized wonder attuned only to the gestures of Renata’s left hand. All elegant lines of gold and brass, both sinuous and sharp, protective, yet delicate. Bubbling inside the contraption is the glowing magenta liquid that encompasses Renata’s entire inheritance.
Renata twirls one of her mechanical fingers in the air. In response, one of the vials attached to the Decanter fills with a pink gas. She plucks a breather from Elodat’s desk and grabs the vial, clicking it into the mask in place of a filtration unit.
“Make things easy on yourself,” she says as she tosses the mask to Mave. With a nod, Mave exits.
“Um, Ms. Renata?” The deviser looks at the floor as Renata turns back to her. “How are my parents? I haven’t seen them in… yeah.”
“They’ve just bought a house,” Renata says casually. “And I’ve found work for your brother and his fiancé at a cultivair. Your work has kept them very happy.” A pause. “You should visit them.”
Elodat’s head snaps up. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” With a beckoning gesture from Renata, the Decanter’s thrusters fire, lifting it into the air. It bobs beside her as she walks toward the door. “After the demonstration.”
“And now, finally,” the announcer says with a glare at Renata, “we have the newest product from Glasc Industries, presented by the fabulous Renata Glasc, herself! Renata, darling, please join us on the stage!”
With practiced ease, Renata steps out from behind the curtain to ravenous applause. Wealthy Piltovans, dressed to impress, fill the Vesella clan’s lavish ballroom, eager to hear about the newest novelties from their favorite Zaunite. The announcer claps politely, though his eyes roll at this level of excitement from the audience.
Renata removes her mask. Every breath she takes of the empty Piltovan air cuts her throat like glass, but still, she smiles. “A big thank you to the Vesella clan for having me! What a treat it is to spend an evening in your beautiful city.
“For many of you, ‘chemtech’ is a scary word. An ugly word. One of iron and decay. What, then, could a Zaunite have to offer Piltover? Glasc Industries has shown you time and again that chemtech doesn’t have to be ugly. And tonight, I’m going to show you that it can be beautiful.”
A flick of her wrist, and the Decanter floats across the stage past the announcer to Renata. Delighted gasps punctuate the murmur of the crowd.
So easily pleased. So hopelessly naïve.
“The Glasc Industries Decanter, a milestone in the world of healing! Alchemist and nursemaid all in one, creating medicine and administering it in the same breath.”
She’s interrupted by the announcer coughing into his sleeve. She turns to him, knowing full well that none of the chemicals in the Decanter are strictly medicinal. “Would our kind announcer be interested in helping with a demonstration?”
Renata sips her sparkling wine as yet another potential investor approaches her. Across the room, the announcer stands beside the Decanter and hands out Renata’s business cards—just as Renata had... suggested.
She peers at her pocket watch and walks toward a balcony with a phenomenal evening view of Piltover. Below, even Zaun’s promenade level is visible from here...
An explosion lights up the promenade. Right about where Baron Midenstokke’s dance hall is, in fact. Or, rather, where it used to be.
But no one in the Vesella clan’s ballroom seems to care. A glance is the most any of them spare for the tragedy down in Zaun. It’s beneath them.
Except for Renata Glasc, who watches with a chuckle and takes another sip of her fine Piltovan wine.