ACTIVE: Jax enters Evasion, a defensive stance, for 2 seconds, causing all non-turret basic attacks against him to be dodged. Jax also takes 25% reduced damage from all champion area of effect abilities. Counter Strike can be recast after 1 second.

At the end of the duration, Jax stuns all nearby enemies for 1 second and deals physical damage to them, increased by 20% for each attack dodged, up to a 100% increase.

نشط: يدخل Jax في Evasion ، وهو موقف دفاعي ، لمدة ثانيتين ، مما يتسبب في تفادي جميع الهجمات الأساسية غير البرجية ضده طوال المدة. يحصل Jax أيضًا على تقليل الضرر بنسبة 25٪ ، مما يقلل الضرر من جميع قدرات منطقة التأثير التي يتم الحصول عليها من أبطال البطل. يمكن إعادة صياغة Counter Strike بعد ثانية واحدة ، ويتم ذلك تلقائيًا بعد انتهاء المدة.

RECAST: يلحق Jax ضررًا جسديًا لجميع الأعداء القريبين ، ويزيد بنسبة 20٪ لكل هجوم يتم تفاديه ، وزيادة تصل إلى 100٪ ، ويصعقهم الصاعقة لمدة ثانية واحدة.

Active: Jax enters Evasion, a defensive stance, for up to 2 seconds, causing all basic attacks against him to miss. Jax also takes 25% reduced damage from all champion area of effect abilities. After 1 second, Jax can reactivate to end it immediately.

This is my story for those who will listen: St. Petersburg Russia 2003, I was 17 at the time. I was living in a shared home, with 7 other homeless kids. Everyone was on heroin, wasting away with no school or jobs. Although I never did any hard drugs, I drank excessively and often got in trouble with the law. I was a very thin brown haired girl, 5'6. As the winter died down (although it never really died), so did my appetite for this lifestyle. I didn't feel anything anymore, my friend died in my arms last year of an overdose but I didn't feel anything as she left. Everything was gray, not just the city, but my life. A couple of the older boys in the house often had mangled faces, something about an underground fist fight match, I didn't pry too much into it. I wondered how someone like me would fare in a situation like that. I wondered how it would feel, whether I dominated the other opponent or was mercilessly knocked around, I think I would enjoy it regardless. I talked to one of the boys and inquired about it, he said he would take me. Friday at 3am we went out, they were both drunk, they told me to drink too, but I refused. We stopped in front of a shoe repair shop and Vasily, the oldest of us (21) cracked the window. As the window opened I was struck with such a pungent stench, my nose couldn't follow all of the scents. Iron, no... blood, beer, sweat. We slipped through the window and in the dark made our way down the stairs. I could hear them already, like a concert I had been to, just yelling and screaming. We opened the door at the end of the narrow stairs and again, I was almost punched with the intense scent, now tenfold. My ears were overwhelmed by the sounds, a large cage in the middle of an open room, no furniture aside from a couple chairs. 300 people or so gathered around a steel cage, and inside two men fight. Vasily led me through the crowd to the man taking money, I was groped and many things were yelled at me, my ears still ringing I couldn't hear what they were saying. Vasily handed him some rubles and they exchanged some words. Vasily pushed me in front of the man, and he pointed at me and laughed in confusion. "Name?" He said, staring at my chest. "Sofi" I replied. He took me to the line of awaiting fighters. Still, I felt nothing, no fear or anxiety, I was almost excited at the thought of feeling fear. I heard chains and thumping in the cage, but couldn't see anything from here. I looked out of place among the men in front of me, they were all of a large build and faces busted of the night prior I assumed. Through the cracks between people spectating, I could see another line, our opponents were standing on the other side also awaiting. The man in front of me was playing with his brass knuckles, I then realized all of them had some sort of weapon. "You like them, baby?" he said in Russian with a heavy Chechen accent. I noted the rust on them and wondered if it was from blood, or how often he groomed them. The entire time waiting he pruned them, smiling with missing teeth. The line eventually got shorter, I could now see the other opponents across from us much clearer. Every now and then a roar, a thud, a whistle. The Chechen was next, I could see the cage. I watched him go and stand in the cage, a man with a black baton across him. A whistle, then a blow. The sound of the baton striking him made it sound as if it were of iron. The Chechen fell fast and his body was dragged out of the ring, he wasn't dead as he was stubbornly flailing at the feet of the man taking him. He still wanted to fight. He was screaming what I can only assume were curse words, some Chechen dialect. I realized it was my turn, I looked across to see who I would be up against. I saw a light illuminating purple, then was grabbed by the man who took Vasily's money earlier. "No guns, no blades, no explosives?" He said quickly, too quick for me to comprehend. He looked me up and down and saw my hands were empty, a maroon tank top and dirty light wash jeans. "Clean!" he yelled, and shoved me in the steel cage. "Two newcomers today..." an announcer yelled, "Sofi!". I heard laughter and guffaws, general shock, some disapproval. "And... Jax!" The man in purple then jumped in, hunched over with what I could now distinguish as a lamp post. He had a strange mask on, everything about him was strange. His name as well, I deduced he must be foreign. Some of the men that had come in looked like clowns, trying desperately to appear intimidating, with studs and embellishments, but this man was puzzling. He began spinning his lamp post over his head while approaching as the whistle blew. "Who wants a piece of the champ?" the man yelled, suddenly springing up and and landing on top of me. The lantern made a thud as it thwacked me on my head, stunning me. I think I was concussed, the lights above were dancing. He got off me and beckoned for me to approach. I got up and wiped my itchy scalp, I hadn't noticed it was bleeding. I began to feel something, I hoped at fear but perhaps it was just shock. He hit me over the head again, I staggered back, but didn't fall. The blood prickling in my brow and falling to the floor. I looked down, the once white mat was stained dark brown with blood. It reeked of sweat and iron. I didn't want to just fall like this, I have to put up some fight. I lunged at him with my fists, but he countered it easily with another swing of his lantern. The metal bar hit my knuckle, I felt my bones break. My fist felt like it was on fire, searing flesh. "WHO WANTS A PIECE OF THE CHAMP?!" he repeated while circling me. I came at him with kicks and weak left handed punches, all of which didn't seem to phase him much. The people who I guess bet on me were yelling in the crowd. I knew it was going to end soon, as soon as he wanted it to. Everyone was just waiting for his final blow, myself included. Maybe it was the concussion, but he seemed to be glowing a slight yellow. I could make out Vasily's voice in the crowd, but couldn't grab the words. Again I lunged at him. he quickly swung his lamp post, shattering what I can only assume was every bone in now my left hand. The pain unbearable, I wanted it to be over. I wanted it to end, it hurt, it hurt a lot. I was frustrated with no chance of approaching, only more pain would come. If he hit one of my hands with the lamp again I think I would fall unconscious with pain immediately. I was scared, I was. Fear, this is fear... I want to live because I feel fear. Maybe all this time I just wanted something to fear so I could cherish life. With no fear how can I live? I realized I didn't feel anything because I didn't want to live anymore. But I was wrong. Right here my life could end, and I didn't want it to! I was crying, but smiling. Laughing. I want to live. My family who had left me, I no longer felt resentment. Every friend I had lost to heroin, I mourned a hundred times in that minute of contemplation. Every delayed emotion I should have felt in my (albeit short) life, I felt in that moment. It was overwhelming. I wiped my cheek, I don't know if it was the tears or blood tickling. I still have a life to live, and I will live it! My resolve was true, I looked at Jax. He moved forward and I flinched in fear. He jumped to me again with such quickness, before his final blow landed I heard him say, and I will never forget "Imagine if I had a real weapon". I awoke in the hospital, they said I had been there for a week, in and out of consciousness. Blood backed up in my brain or something of the sort. After some surgeries and physical rehabilitation I was out. A monk had come to read to me while I was there, and I stayed on his farm assisting him with whatever he needs. Eventually we got married. We now live in Moscow, and have a son. My husband doesn't know of my past, I was found on the road half dead. The report was of a hit and run. He doesn't know why I picked the unusual name Jax for our son. I don't know exactly why, either. He changed something in me, Jax did. Maybe it would have come from any of the opposing fighters. But it was Jax. And i'll never forget. And I hope I never have another piece of the champ again. And God I hope he never gets his hands on a REAL weapon.