WEAPON CREATION

NAME: Whisperfang


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TYPE: Ironwrought Lance | Dragoon


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APPEARANCE: Whisperfang is a lance cobbled together by dreams and despair. Due to the lack of wood as an available resource. Orion fashioned his trusty weapon out of magiteck steel. The lance itself is 11 feet long, thin, and aerodynamic. With a somewhat gnarled but otherwise sharp ending tip. It appears completely black save for the blue lines etched in it. That glow when suffused with a sufficient amount of aether.

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ABILITIES/ENCHANTMENTS: Outline any special abilities, enchantments, or magical properties your custom weapon possesses. This could include elemental affinities, bonus damage against specific creatures, or unique effects triggered upon successful strikes. Be mindful of game balance and ensure that your abilities align with the rules and limitations of the Broken Crowns universe.


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BACKSTORY/ORIGIN:
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Orion was never meant to be a warrior.
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Perhaps, in another life. He would have been a stalwart protector of the Green Word. Savage, yet, skilled. A true-blooded soldier of the forest.
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However, that was never to be. Not here, not now. Instead, he was merely a miner. Suddenly thrown into the throes of combat to satiate his masters' desire for power and control.
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Orion had a friend, who was also like him. Yet he did everything required of him without effort. Regardless of the situation, the Miqot'e kept a sunny disposition. Seeing the good in life. "It could be worse, yeah?" He always said. And yet, Orion could never agree.
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He had dreams. To escape this life. His friend wanted to become an adventurer. Travel the world. See what it had to offer. Leave everything behind. And yet it was never meant to be. Those naive, childish, dreams...
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A battle turned into mindless bloodshed. A warm hand grew cold. Their smile faded as the life left their eyes. In a flash, it was all gone. Like a whisper into the cold, dark, night. Unheard and unseen. His friend was taken from him.
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"It was a faulty blade", his superiors insisted with a scoff. "That person just didn't have what it took to be a soldier.", they insulted.
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In madness or in grief, he wasn't quite sure. Orion took that broken blade. Melted it down with the magiteck scrap he had left. And forged a worthy weapon. One that was strong. One that would carry his friend's dreams like a whisper in the wind.
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Quiet, unseen, and right into the heart of his enemies. Like a dragon's fang that cut through the night.
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Whisperfang.
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The lance that held the last memories and dreams of a dear friend. And one that would take down his foes. No matter what got in his way. His lance would strike true. Silently. Through the unyielding dark. And pierce his enemy's hearts.