Doubts-Cutter, Blade of The Oath Keeper
* Story : At his 17th of age ... he left the crowd and sat at the peak of mountains, meditating in the caves and and wondering hither and thither for knowledge to seek his ultimate goal and find a true reason to live a meaningful Life and fight for it. He found the goal and he realized the journey won't be an easy one to change the shape of people hearts and minds in this planet.
Many were the battles he went through, massive and bloody encounters that made him learn one great fact, there is no stronger enemy he might face than his very own self, the path to discipline is the hardest and controlling his soul's reins is what takes much effort in order to change the world.
Thus the "oath keeper" as he was known for .. since he lives for his own commitments and promises , He found that the cure to his setbacks and hardships is to settle the greatest clash between his own self .. the heart and mind, emotions and logic , love and reason ... he mounted his crusader horse and decided to travel even more for a decade and learn until he finds the answer , before he set out to that journey he had a dream of a dragon howling atop the very hill that he made his own promise to fight for his goal until the end of his Life at .. it was a blue dragon that looked as if it was calling for him with a sense of challenge that made him jump from his restless sleep and hurl there .. its when he found a sealed sword on the hill... he tried to approach it and once he did he got knocked out fiercely and found that the sword shaped on a form of a humanoid body looking exactly the same like him but under a massive hurricane surrounding him ... he tried to fight him with all his strength but he got defeated badly and with each hit he received a memory of one of his past defeats popped in his mind like a drawn picture and he started to realize that they all shared one thing in common which was the hesitation, doubts and uneasiness between his selfish desires and his own goal and determination ... he found how he let others down at time, or favored who weren't worthy over who were, the tears went down when it kicked him how much time and effort wasted about all these clouds of doubts , the failure to control his own self and discipline that made him suffer although he is the one that the people put their trust and hope upon.
The oath keeper stood up and left the hill... his vision started to get clearer for his weaknesses that he needs to work on .. the dragon general as people always loved to call him visited every place he managed to as an anonymous old man .. he spent a healing time with the wise taurens in Mulgore and learned to let go of the despair .. went to the north of Kalmidor and washed his sorrows at the lakes of Moonglade and they taught him to never surrender .. traveled to the lands of Pandaria and had the honor to spend few days at grove of the fallen blossoms and learn the ways of bushido from the shado pans and ended his journey at his fellow paladins posts in argent tourney and Light's hope chapel to forge the dimmed light in his heart once more before bowing to smiling once more at the sight of Silvermoon his beloved Home.
The oath keeper returned thereafter to the hill.... he was ready set to fight the manifestation of his own doubts and in a blink he managed to prevail this time the spirit in front of him smiled and disappeared and he found himself accessing the sealed weapon and putting his hand on the sword .. his was surprised when he found the sword edge made from a blue dragon scales with a portrait of the head of the same dragon that appeared in his dream .. the sword itself was a great lesson with a half heart shape down the edge resembling the emotions and a shining star on the other half resembling the mind and logic with a coexistence to bring about balance that he witnessed in his soul finally ... as his eyes went cross the sword he found the print of the hurricane that once repelled him .. it is now sealed as he mastered his self-discipline finally and gained control of the reins of his own soul.
Legends said that this story applies to everyone of us hence it became one of our greatest Life lessons of time, may we all muster the courage to reach our self resolve.
http://i63.tinypic.com/2v0cp55.png
*Weapon info :
Doubts-Cutter, Blade of The Oath Keeper
Class specific : Paladin
Two handed sword
Strength 2035
Stamina 3045
Equip : cuts the doubts that linger on every crossroad of one's Life journey duo to his self-conflicts and close ones negative effects
Equip : lowers the chance of disorientation , sleep , charm and fear by 20%
Yv'allu, Eye of Forgotten Fears
In the heart of Silithus, lies the Temple of Ahn Qiraj. There, the Old God C'thun resides. With armies of insects and fanatic cult followers, he aims to conquer this world. To aid him in this, he has created the ultimate artifact to aid him in this venture to spread Chaos and Madness to all corners of Azeroth: Yv'allu, Staff of Forgotten Fears. It's wielder, once a lowly priest of Stormwind, stumbled across the staff during an encounter with C'thun, and is now the Arch-Priest of Ahn Qiraj, heralding the end of this world. Only the bravest of adventurers can venture into the temple, and stop him from resurrecting the Old God.
Yv'allu is a priest only weapon meant to embody the qualities of Chaos and Madness. It grants the user great power, but at a terrible cost: Their sanity. Knowledge beyond worlds, but the Priest can no longer use the power of the Light, for it will abandon any user who wields it.
(The Priest when wielding the weapon cannot use Holy or Discipline Spells).
Weapon Image:
https://i.imgur.com/NJDbtNZ.png
Weapon Stats:
https://i.imgur.com/FUGuboN.png
Use Effects: (Chance at 1 of 3 options)
1: Embrace the void, your shadow spells have +20% damage, but all healing effects harm you for 10 seconds
2: C'thun's minions aid you in battle, call upon a giant centipede to shield you from physical and magical attacks, but you cannot attack as well for 5 seconds
3: Become horror incarnate, your enemies cannot look at you for more than 3 seconds without temporarily losing control, but you cannot move during this.
Below is the story of how Allin, the priest, managed to become the enemy of that which he was sworn to serve.
The Story:
The man trudged through the shifting sands, step by step, every so slowly. The hot and arid air festered around the human’s head, so thick that it was hard not to choke. The sweeping winds whipped up sand from nearby dunes, causing the man to have to temporarily shield his eyes as to avoid getting hit. The unrelenting sun, hotter than the Molten Core, scorched his back and threatened to cause him to drop at any moment. The barren wastelands of Silithus was not friendly to strangers, but despite the immeasurable odds, he persevered, knowing that his mission, was the most important he’d ever been assigned.
The man’s heavy breathing was stifled by the loud winds surrounding him. In the distance he could make out the faint silhouette of wooden structures. Allin stopped looked at the trail of footprints he had left behind, and how they seemed to stretch into nothingness. To think, he had just been in the lush and tropical forests of Un'goro, only to be met with the badlands that is Silithus. He pulled out his map and muttered under his breath. He knew what it was: The Outpost.
When Allin had received the mission, he was rather surprised. The lead of the SI: 7, Matthew Shaw, had approached him under the guise of a fellow priest. He spoke hushed words of a Cenarion Outpost in the middle of Silithus which had stopped sending reports, and the ones they had received were , unsettling, as he delicately put it. When Allin pressed to know why he, a lowly priest, was assigned, Shaw refused to answer, muttering on about something to due with “secrecy”. Still, he was loyal to his Alliance, and if this is what his Alliance needed of him, then so be it.
He made out the signature Night Elf style gates in the distance, and the towering totems of the Tauren race. Satisfied with his inquiries, he trudged on in the hope of arriving there by nightfall. The desert can be deceiving, and Allin made sure to follow the map to a T. He couldn’t help to feel though, that something was off. He had been trekking all day and surely he would have reached his destination by now. And while he played it off as merely being fatigue or a mirage, a part of him couldn’t shake the thought that the road had gotten, longer.
Dusk fell upon the horizon, and Allin, after hours of nonstop walking, arrived at the Cenarion Outpost. The wind had died down, and the heat had become more bearable. The sky had turned from a washed up blue to a hazy orange, and the desert had almost become almost eerily still. He was so tired, that he almost forgot the reason for him being there, to find out what the deal was with this Outpost. He instantly took notice of the lack of guards at the front gate.
“Hello?” He called out. ...Nothing.
He stood at the front entrance, hands on hips, waiting for a response.
“HELLO?” His voice rang out into the desert, but nothing returned his call.
With a defeated sigh, he climbed up the steep steps onto the main courtyard of the outpost, expecting to see it filled with Druids, but again, nothing. It was completely empty. He gazed around at the empty tents and their bedrolls, all neatly tidied up without a hint of messiness. As if no one had slept in it.
Growing more suspicious, he walked into the main Night Elf Tower located on the steep ridge. Again, no one was in. The sound of wood creaking under Allin’s boots rang hollow throughout the interior. Allin took in the room, noting the placement of the furniture, and how it seemed as if nothing was forcibly moved. He quickly went up the stairs.
CRAHSUASHH!!!
Allin whelped as the step under him gave way. He quickly caught himself on the railings. The wood fell to the floor under it. Unstable flooring, check he thought. Giving a sigh of relief, he arrived at the next floor. Rows and rows of beds were left without an owner, bags and personal belongings left perfectly intact. He came to the conclusion that the compound was deserted. Maybe I can find some account of what happened here was his initial thought, and he remembered the name of one of the druids that Matthew Shaw had advised he seek out first: Eraellas Dewgrove.
He looked around for her station, and quickly came across her bed and night table. On the bed, sat neatly and almost, deliberately, a weathered journal. Curious, he picked it up and flipped towards the end of the entries, when Shaw had said the reports had become unusual.
Day 1,
I finally arrived at the Cenarion Expedition. It was a grueling journey, and the climate is so much different than that of Ashenvale. And while I was excited to see the new wildlife, the local inhabitants are … less than welcoming. The other druids were welcoming , and they all recounted their experiences with the scorpions and wasps, Godulf tried to take honey from one of their hives for food! The post is cozy enough, there's plenty of shade to escape the desert sun. The frequent sandstorms though prove to be a challenge, especially when trying to observe the surrounding land. I can't help being paranoid though, as I feel that there's something in the distance, something … calling me. The other druids say they felt it too at first, but got over it quickly. They say it's just the new geography, but I'm not completely convinced. I will have to meditate on this feeling.
Day 41
It's been a month since I first arrived here, and I've made valuable progress on studying the local insects here! They are relatively docile (unless provoked) and seem to have similar hive structures as to bees from Ashenvale and other jungle like environments. At first I postulated…
[Allin flips through pages of wasp analysis till he finds the end of the entry]
… One thing remained unanswered for me though, and it's been bothering me ever since. As I observed, I noticed that seemingly random bugs would be slaughtered by other members of their hive. While I dismissed it initially as an anamoly, the pattern remained and grew more vicious as time went on. I cross examined the brain of one of them with the brain of another worker wasp, and found that the one that was killed, had a vastly different brain than that of an alive one, specifically in the region which controls voluntary action. I plan to run more tests in the future, as this inquiry requires my immediate attention.
Day 53
Geologists from Tanaris arrived at the camp today. We usually have Goblins come for supply delivery but today they brought troubling news. The local wildlife, specifically the insects, have begun to act differently in the southern regions of Tanaris. Once they were relatively docile, now they have begun to attack caravans and travellers seeking refuge in Gadgetzan. They’ve requested that some of our Druids come and help them calm them. This information is too convenient with my recent observation of insect behavior to be a coincidence. The insects have all shifted from their normal hive locations towards further out in the desert. Complete hives have been abandoned, the honey like substance they produced have solidified into a black, crystal like material. The other druids, including me, have felt the return of that , feeling. It's stronger now, and it's coming from the desert. There has reports of an oncoming sandstorm, from where the feeling is strongest. We are buckling down, as it's prepared to be the biggest we’ve experienced so far.
Day 62,
The sandstorm still rages. We’ve been cut off from outside provisions, and it's been days since we’ve last seen the sun. It feels like perpetual night, but the howling of the wind, and the peltering of sand keeps me awake constantly. I sent a letter to Stormwind asking for help, but I do not know if it'll get through. For now, all we can do is wait.
Day 63,
Something terrible has happened. One of the druids, Godulf, has gone missing! His bunk is empty and his stuff is still here! We’ve searched around camp, but no one knows where he is. And we can't send out a search party due to the storm. We’ll have to wait till it lifts. A curfew has been set to assure no one else goes missing.
Day 68,
[The writing is sloppy and hardly legible, it's clear it was written in a hurry]
It's only gotten worse. More and more druids have left, and unnatural sounds wake us whenever we sleep. Hell, even without the noises the pure paranoia of it all prevents us from doing so. Druids are turning on each other, accusing one another of conspiring this whole thing. Faenfral was confined due to him attempting to kill himself. Now all he does is mutter words to himself, like he's talking with someone. The worst of the storm is almost upon us, and we can't afford another disappearance!
Day 70,
[written in big, bold, letters]
My friends have abandoned me…
[The last pages are torn out]
“By the light, I must get this to Stormwind at once!” Allin closed the book and put it in his knapsack. He knew the presence he felt was unnatural, and he rushed towards the bottom floor to get out of this accursed place. He went out the door, and was immediately knocked to the floor by a powerful gust of wind. It was torrential, and refused to let up. Pulling himself up, he glanced towards the horizon. And there it was, a sandstorm.
Feeling panicked, he tried to pick himself to leave the outpost, but the wind was too strong. Sand stung his eyes, and scratched against his skin. Knowing that he couldn't escape the sandstorm, he went back inside, and dreaded the coming night.
The fierce howling of wind and the peltering of sand against the wood surrounded Allin, But it was the paranoia of this place which kept him up. The light next to him had gone out, and Allin was engulfed by darkness, the only thing keeping him aware , a small spark of light, the man had conjured. Hours went by, but to Allin, it felt like days. Allin prayed through it, but the light was not responsive.
In a final prayer of desperation, he spoke. “Light, I know that I haven't always gone done the righteous path. That I too, have been the causer of grief. But hear me now, please grant me the power, no, help me help wherever these people are. For Stormwind, and for the light!”
As if by chance or miracle, the sandstorm slowly subsided. And in the distance , he saw it clear as day. Ruins of an old structure. Black pillar spiraled from the shifting sands, insects swarmed around the towering black crystals. The presence he had so vividly felt as he entered Silithus, was magnified the longer he gazed at the looming structure. Allin, horrified, knew it was his duty to find out what happened to the druids of the outpost.
The presence grew stronger and stronger as he walked towards the temple. He looked around, and saw what could only be the insects described in the journal. All walking in a line towards the gates. Arriving at the entrance , the etchings in the walls were unfamiliar. It was no language of elf or man, not even orc. He entered the courtyard, where he gazed upon the hexagonal twin doors , which he only assumed to be the entrance to the temple. Saying a quick prayer, he opened the doors, and entered the temple.
The inside was dark, but a few braziers lit the path. He looked at the walls, giant and ancient looking. The architecture was completely unlike anything he had seen. He continued to walk around, cautiously and silently as to avoid awakening whatever laid here. He turned the corner, and walked into what could only be the antechamber.
What he saw awed, and frightened him. On the wall, were giant etchings, of a being, no, something , a beast? A demon? What his eyes saw, he could not put words as to what it was.
“Your friends will abandon you…”
Allin whipped around. “Who's there?!”
Silence.
“It was, your fault.”
Allin clenched his head. His head throbbed with pain, as if something was stabbing it. “Stop it!”
“Your heart will explode.”
Allin looked around frantically to find the source of the noise. At the other side of the room, a hooded figure stood.
“You! Who are you?!”
The hooded figure did not move.
“Where am I !? Answer me!!!”
The figure took a step toward him.
“Stay back!”
It took another.
“I'm warning you!”
The figure stopped. It slowly looked up at him, and revealing its face. Allin gagged with horror. He could not fathom what he saw, but he quickly looked away and darted out.
Hallway after hallway, he could not remember it looking like this. He heart was pounding, breath uneasy and quick. He needed to find the door. As he turned the corner, he saw the exit. Allin rushed towards it, legs carrying him as fast as he could. Pushing the doors open, he looked at the courtyard. He stopped in his tracks. He saw groups and groups of masked figures, all walking toward a singular point. It was some sort of ritual, one that the Light itself would not touch. Allin ran back into the temple, desperate to find a way out.
The hooded figure was at the end of the hallway he had just come from. Allin quickly took another path. The twisting labyrinth took him further and further into the heart of the temple. Room after room was brimmed with masked figures. The temple had come to life. He ran into more and more dead ends, until coming across a hexagonal door, similar to the exit. Allin sighed with relief, and as he rushed through the door, came face to face with the presence he had felt.
His eyes wide open, his jaw dropped. Tears came to his eyes, and he fell onto his knees. Just like the figure , he could not fathom what he was seeing. He could only identify the parts; tentacles, spikes, and an ungodly eye. He fainted at the sight of the being, so ancient , so primordial, that no mortal could know what he is looking at. Only one word was left in the mind of those who encountered such a thing: C’Thun
Snogg's Eye of the Chieftain.
Snogg's Eye of the Chieftain.
Obviously, as a clan relic, this steel dagger is work of the Horde master-smith. Despite the rough and disgraceful look, the edge of this blade is immaculately sharp. The first owner of the blade was Snogg the Cursed Eye. He put his eye in the handle of the dagger, so even after he die and fall into oblivion, he will see the end of his people war. When being taken from a sheath, this dagger, as people say, can itself look out for the victims in the battlefield. Pray to your Gods, so his bloody sight does not fall on you!
Weapon design:
https://i.imgur.com/2UNWLot.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/bxNnDa6.jpg
Weapon stats:
https://i.imgur.com/ELyGU9g.jpg
Concept, modelling and texturing made by me. Used horde symbols in this work so it could look more warcraft-like.
