Spirit Shaper - Momentum
Amarynth uses Spirit to cast her abilities. Spirit regenerates at 6% per 5 seconds. The regeneration scales 1% per 1% cooldown reduction from Haste. Momentum (Passive): Whenever Amarynth damages an enemy with an ability, all her other ability cooldowns are reduced by 1 second.
Amarynth sends out a school of barricudas to ravage target enemy, dealing 50 / 95 / 140 / 185 / 230 (+0.7) magical damage, plus 12.5 / 20 / 27.5 / 35 / 42.5 (+0.3 Power) bonus magical damage every 0.5 seconds to enemies affected by Tidal Prison.
Amarynth rides a gush of water to spear each enemy she passes through, dealing 65 / 110 / 155 / 200 / 245 (+0.6) magical damage.
Amarynth lobs a globe of water that envelops the first enemy it touches, reducing their Movement Speed by 35% / 40% / 45% / 50% / 55% for 2.5 seconds. After 2.5 seconds the bubble bursts, dealing 65 / 115 / 165 / 215 / 265 (+0.75) magical damage to all nearby enemies.
Amarynth summons a huge wave of water that surges forward, dealing 200 / 325 / 450 (+0.8) magical damage to each enemy it passes over and launching them airborne for 0.75 seconds.
I know the bottom. It is the only place I feel peace. Rocked by the sway of tides. Serenaded by whale lullabies felt in the bones. I am weightless. The moon cannot pull my heart. My fists and teeth no longer clench. But I cannot stay. "Join your voices," I tell their faces bobbing in the sea. Men on the left shore, women on the right. Children inattentive on the sands. "Let us praise the Spirit for its blessing." Behind their backs, I call it a curse. I pray for relief. I was eleven when the blessed coral began to grow out of my bones. When the air became painful to my skin. I was so excited. I was nearly an adult. I could finally leave the shore, see my mother and father whenever I wished. I didn't understand. I never saw father again, save from a distance. Mother died ten years ago. Her blessings passed to me. I invoked weekly rituals to eager faces. I dispensed what young wisdoms I had. And then I felt the rising of the moon in my blood for the first time. I understood the rages that possessed her, why her eyes despaired as she pounded the rocks with her bloodied fists. I still spoke to Cerulean back then. He laughed it off the first time, said he didn't feel a thing through his coral. But he limped for weeks afterwards. His nose never sat straight again. I never dared touch him again. When the Spirit came to me, it thundered in my ears like the roll of breakers on the shore. I begged it to kill me. It gave me no rest, but a measure of freedom. How can I lead my people in worshipping the Spirits when I don't understand them myself?