La Crónica de los Tiempos
Fu Zan, el Compañero del Errrante
FU ZAN, EL COMPAÑERO DEL ERRANTE
Tal vez hayas oído contar que, hace tiempo, un hozen portó este bastón legendario. Eso nos preocupaba. Mucho. Lo examinamos a consciencia y te alegrará saber que este artefacto no sufrió ningún daño (que no podamos reparar).
Resulta que no estábamos siendo justos con el . No es la criatura más reverente de Azeroth, pero tiene un gran respeto por esta arma. Incluso nos ayudó a entender su verdadero poder. Desde luego, Fu Zan ha hecho un viaje de lo más peculiar.
Hace mucho tiempo, la guardiana esculpió un plano de existencia etéreo, el Sueño Esmeralda, que debía servir de guía para la vida natural de Azeroth. Creó y plantó un árbol cerca de la poderosa energía del Valle de la Flor Eterna.
Este creció fuerte y alto, embebiéndose del poder resonante del valle. A su alrededor crecieron más árboles. Bosques frondosos, tanto en el Sueño como en el mundo de la vigilia, cobraron vida por toda la región. La guardiana Freya llamó al árbol Fu Zan y, con una de sus ramas, hizo un bastón para sus largos viajes.
Desde los albores de los tiempos, este bastón ha sido compañía de criaturas legendarias y espíritus inmortales en sus importantes y duraderos quehaceres por todo Azeroth.
También cayó en manos del Rey Mono. Eso vino después.
En los primeros tiempos de la recuperación de Azeroth, la vida natural floreció con fuerza en los enclaves donde la guardiana Freya realizaba su trabajo más intensivo. Unos pocos animales salvajes excepcionales crecieron mucho más allá de lo esperado y exhibieron tal poder que pronto se los conocería como los dioses salvajes.
Cada uno de estos seres tenía una personalidad distinta, pero Freya observó que había cuatro en concreto que compartían un profundo compromiso con la paz y la sabiduría. Esos cuatro -un dragón, un buey, una grulla y un tigre- se habían reunido cerca del Valle de la Flor Eterna. Freya sabía que su compasión haría bien a la región. En efecto, los habitantes de Pandaria acabarían por llamarlos los Augustos Celestiales.
Un día, Freya acudió a los Celestiales con inquietud en su corazón. Había una gran oscuridad al norte, les dijo, y creía que se aproximaba una confrontación. Les dio su bastón para que lo custodiaran. "Si no vuelvo a veros, devolved este bastón a Azeroth, a uno de sus hijos", dijo. "Dádselo a alguien que deteste la batalla y ame la paz".
Freya no volvió jamás. , el Dragón de Jade, prometió mantener el bastón a salvo. Y eso fue lo que hizo durante miles de años, incluso durante el reinado oscuro del imperio mogu.
Al sur, cerca del Valle de la Flor Eterna, surgieron muchas criaturas nuevas que formaron tribus, aldeas e, incluso, imperios. Estaban los jinyu, los pandaren, los hozen y otros.
Yu'lon creía que, si Fu Zan debía entregarse a uno de estos seres, sería a un jinyu o un pandaren. Sin duda los hozen eran demasiado violentos por naturaleza como para confiárseles tal regalo. Solían ser egoístas y cortos de miras, incapaces de colaborar el tiempo necesario para desarrollar por su cuenta una civilización como es debido.
Pero, a medida que transcurrió el tiempo, Yu'lon se cuestionaba sus suposiciones. Había diferentes formas de sabiduría y valor, ¿no? Era fácil ver a los hozen, efímeros y de mal genio, como pendencieros, pero vivían unas vidas plenas -vidas salvajes- durante el tiempo del que disponían.
Yu'lon sintió que Fu Zan comenzaba a despertar. Necesitaba un nuevo compañero. El Dragón de Jade sabía que pronto cedería a los deseos de Freya y permitiría que un mortal digno portara a Fu Zan. Y cada vez tenía más claro que había que dárselo a un hozen.
"Dáselo a alguien que deteste la batalla y ame la paz".
Las palabras de Freya cobraron sentido en cuanto Yu'lon se fijó en un hozen excepcional. Se llamaba a sí mismo el Rey Mono.
Mucho tiempo atrás, solo unos cuantos años antes de la Guerra de los Ancestros, se había convertido en el líder de un pueblo ingobernable. Había ascendido al poder sin verter una sola gota de sangre. Era querido por todas las tribus hozen.
¿Cómo lo había conseguido? Al fin y al cabo, los hozen estaban siempre peleando. Constantemente. Por las razones más tontas. Cualquier desacuerdo comportaba violencia física.
El Rey Mono lo sabía, así que les dijo a las tribus hozen: "Soy el Rey Mono. Vuestra tribu me apoya con todo su corazón". Eso era todo. Cuando un solo hozen le cuestionaba, él le decía que el líder de su tribu ya había accedido a ello. Ningún hozen quería desafiar a su líder así como así -y meterse en una pelea-, así que decían: "Tú eres el Rey Mono".
Cuando los líderes de las tribus supieron su nombre, todos sus súbditos lo llamaban ya el Rey Mono. Estaban perplejos, pero no querían enfrentarse a su gente, así que ellos tampoco le llevaron la contraria. La osada afirmación del Rey Mono, su mentira, acabó siendo verdad porque nadie se atrevía a ponerla en entredicho.
Pronto cesaron las luchas tribales. El Rey Mono juzgaba todas las disputas. Los hozen obedecían.
El Dragón de Jade entendía la motivación del Rey Mono. Era sencillo: le disgustaba ver sangre. En esencia, era una criatura que aborrecía la lucha y amaba la paz. A partir de ahí, había logrado lo que ningún otro hozen antes.
Yu'lon necesitaba saber hasta qué punto era listo el Rey Mono. Lo visitó disfrazado. Lo único que veía el Rey Mono era otro hozen... pero este no lo llamaba rey ni se inclinaba ante él. Le exigió que le mostrara respeto.
En vez de eso, el recién llegado le puso un acertijo y le dijo que a un rey de verdad no le costaría responderlo. Soltó la respuesta correcta en cuestión de segundos. Yu'lon le puso otro. Volvió a responder. Así estuvieron durante tres días y tres noches. El Rey Mono se iba enfureciendo pero, aun enfadado, seguía respondiendo a sus preguntas.
Yu'lon estaba convencido. La violencia y la tiranía no estaban en la forma de ser del Rey Mono, o ya hacía mucho que habría tratado de hacerlo callar por la fuerza. Yu'lon reveló su forma auténtica -lo cual causó un caos considerable en aquella aldea hozen- y le hizo entrega de Fu Zan.
El Dragón de Jade le contó la historia de Freya y el origen del bastón. Luego le advirtió: sentía que, algún día, su astucia no bastaría para detener el mal. Cuando aquel día llegara, tendría que actuar con decisión.
El Rey Mono no le creyó. Pero el bastón le parecía muy, muy bonito, eso sí.
Con Fu Zan en su poder, la autoridad del Rey Mono sobre los hozen se volvió absoluta. Podía doblarse como un junco al viento y esquivar cualquier golpe de un aspirante al trono. El bastón era ligero como una pluma y, sin embargo, quien intentaba robarlo se encontraba con que no podía levantarlo ni un centímetro. Era suyo, nadie más podía empuñarlo.
Pero Fu Zan presentaba un grave problema. Para parecer majestuoso mientras lo llevaba, el Rey Mono necesitaba usar ambas manos. Eso significaba que no le quedaba ninguna libre para su posesión más preciada, un pequeño barril que siempre tenía lleno de cerveza.
Pero aquello era fácil de solucionar. El Rey Mono añadió dos aros de metal en el extremo de Fu Zan y colgó de ellos el barril. Por suerte, el bastón no sufrió daños irreversibles.
El Rey Mono se hizo amigo rápidamente de un joven príncipe pandaren, Shaohao. El día de la coronación de , el nuevo emperador se enteró de que toda la tierra corría el peligro de ser destruida por la primera invasión de Azeroth por parte de la Legión Ardiente.
El Rey Mono creía que la profecía de Yu'lon se había cumplido: era el día en que tendría que plantar cara al mal directamente. Declaró que se quedaría junto a Shaohao hasta el final.
Pero el destino tenía otros planes. Un gran viento adverso rugió desde el este y se llevó al Rey Mono muy lejos.
El Rey Mono se vio arrastrado por el viento a las tierras de los mántides. Allí no le servía de nada toda su inteligencia. Estaba indefenso, a punto de morir en sus manos, cuando Shaohao lo rescató. El Rey Mono estaba enfurecido, pero los mántides no eran el enemigo. Shaohao le recordó que la auténtica amenaza era la Legión Ardiente.
Al final, no fue la violencia lo que salvó a los pueblos de Pandaria. Shaohao liberó su espíritu sobre la tierra, envolviéndola en una niebla y protegiéndola de la destrucción del Cataclismo.
El Rey Mono volvió a casa y arrojó Fu Zan a un río en un arrebato de ira. Su amigo había desaparecido y, por lo que parecía, el Rey Mono no había cumplido la profecía de Yu'lon.
Más tarde fue al río a recuperar el bastón, pero solo porque aquellas aguas eran sagradas para una tribu jinyu y ellos no podían sacarlo, pues pesaba demasiado. Seguía perteneciendo al Rey Mono.
Tras el Cataclismo, Pandaria quedó aislada del resto del mundo. El emperador ya no estaba. Nunca habría otro.
Algunos creían que todas las demás tierras habían sido destruidas. Otros querían explorar el mundo más allá de las brumas. Y unos pocos querían quedarse Pandaria para sí. Por la fuerza.
No se ha escrito mucho sobre este breve aumento súbito de aspirantes a tirano. Fueron muy pocos los habitantes de Pandaria que resultaron dañados por alguno de ellos. Ya fueran señores de la guerra mogu, tribus hozen de la periferia o incluso brutales asaltantes yaungol, ninguno de ellos llegó a lanzar una verdadera campaña de conquista. Antes de que pudieran, se les acercaba siempre un misterioso hozen que parloteaba sin parar acerca de un alijo secreto de artefactos que le habían otorgado un poder incalculable. Podía hacer milagros: ningún arma podía tocarlo, por más combatientes que intentaran atacarlo.
Era muy convincente. Esos seres ambiciosos y codiciosos seguían con empeño las instrucciones del Rey Mono. A veces se tiraban por un precipicio. Otras veces acababan emboscados por el Shadopan. En cualquier caso, su historia siempre tenía un final rápido, y el Rey Mono se largaba con Fu Zan apoyado tranquilamente en sus hombros.
El Rey Mono nunca se había divertido tanto. Convertir a seres malvados en torpes pardillos se convirtió en su pasatiempo favorito durante años. Lo consideraba su forma de honrar a su viejo amigo Shaohao, que ahora vigilaba la tierra pero ya no podía proteger directamente a la gente de Pandaria.
Pero, tal como le había dicho Yu'lon, un día su astucia no bastaría para derrotar al mal.
Un déspota mogu conocido como el señor de la guerra de jade había seguido las indicaciones del Rey Mono y se había adentrado en una tumba bajo Kun-Lai. Pero en vez de no encontrar nada -tal como el hozen había esperado-, el señor de la guerra de jade halló un antiguo alijo de conocimientos escritos por el Rey del Trueno, . En manos del señor de la guerra, le conferiría un poder terrible.
El Rey Mono sabía que había cometido un error... y, cuando el suelo comenzó a temblar, supo que no había tiempo para que nadie más detuviera al mogu. Cogió a Fu Zan y entró en la tumba para encargarse del problema directamente.
El Rey Mono detestaba la violencia. La aborrecía. Pero también sabía que era el único que podía oponerse al señor de la guerra de jade antes de que fuera demasiado tarde.
Se batieron en duelo durante horas bajo Kun-Lai. Durante años, Fu Zan había servido al Rey Mono como ayuda en sus travesuras; aquello fue una práctica excelente para esquivar la poderosa y mortífera magia que el mogu no tardó en desatar.
El Rey Mono no creía que fuera a salir vivo de la tumba. De hecho, no lo hizo. Pero no murió. El señor de la guerra de jade no dominaba su nuevo poder y un hechizo errado hizo lo que ninguno de los dos esperaba: los paralizó a ambos en jade. Allí permanecieron, enzarzados en combate, durante casi diez mil años, sin perder nunca la capacidad de comunicarse.
Aquel debió de ser un destino peor que la muerte para el mogu.
Una vez liberado, el Rey Mono viajó a la Isla Intemporal y presenció cómo los Augustos Celestiales instruían a los campeones de Azeroth sobre su fuerza, robustez, valor y sabiduría. Transcurrido algún tiempo, el Rey Mono sintió que sus viajes con Fu Zan se acercaban a su fin. Así pues, viajó al templo de Yu'lon y le dejó el bastón de nuevo a su cargo para que algún día se lo pudiera volver a entregar a alguien digno de llevarlo.
Incluso se mostró feliz por que pronto volverían a llevarlo a la batalla.
Sheilun, Bastón de la Niebla
SHEILUN, BASTÓN DE LA NIEBLA
Do you know of Shaohao? Of Kang, the Fist of First Dawn? Of Xuen, the White Tiger? Do you know of the terrible trials the pandaren people overcame thousands of years ago?
Sheilun is living proof that conflict can be endured, that tyranny can be overcome, that disaster can be averted... and that a caring heart can make it all possible. Sheilun will aid you greatly in the tribulations to come. Carry it with pride, and use it to bring your comrades home alive.
" It feels strange to call Sheilun powerful, does it not? You could no use it to flatten a mountain with a single bow, nor could you use it to burn a thousand enemies alive with a single thought. Others might find that disappointing. But you are a monk. You know power takes many forms. Others desire the might of a waterfall crashing down on the rocks. You seek the calm, inevitable force of a deep river, the kind that carves canyons into the toughest stone and carries away warriors on its currents without so much as a ripple. Sheilun is the embodiment of that idea."
-Master Xunsu, Mistweaver of the Terrace of Endless Spring
This staff has seen many battles in Pandaria. It was there when a slave toppled and empire of slavemasters. It was there when an emperor saved an entire continent from death.
Sheilun contains the legacy of ancient days and ancient spirits. In the hands of those who help others, this staff is very powerful indeed.
Long before the Sundering, long before the southern end of Azeroth was known as Pandaria, there was an explosion of life in a particular valley. Four animal spirits were drawn to that place, the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, and they were in awe at its potential... and its power. At that time, dark forces had eyes on the vale's secrets. A titan keeper and his armies of mogu protected the land from the mantid and other outside threats, but there was no guidance for what was growing within.
These four spirits chose to make this place their home. They were Xuen, the White Tiger; , the Jade Serpent; , the Red Crane; and , the Black Ox. They would become known as the August Celestials.
Under their care, many different life forms emerged near the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. Among them were the wise jinyu, the mischievous hozen, and the peaceful pandaren. They worshipped the August Celestials, and in return, the spirits offered the knowledge and guidance. For a time, there was peace.
The peace of the vale did not last. The terror of the Thunder King shattered everything.
A mogu warlord named revolted against his master, the keeper Ra-den, seizing his power and crowning himself the emperor of all mogu... and of all who lived within his domain. He enslaved those who surrendered and killed those who did not. First he conquered the small, fledgling jinyo empire and their hozen rivals. The pandaren fled to the harsh climate of Kun-Lai Summit, seeking the protection of Xuen, the White Tiger.
Xuen offered them sanctuary for a time. But soon, Lei Shen brought an army to the Kun-Lai foothills. Rather tahan lauching an attack, he issued a challenge: Xuen would come forth and duel with the Thunder King. Victory meant the pandaren would live free. Defeat meant the enslavement of them all. Refusal meant summary execution.
Xuen accepted the challenge. The duel between the celestial of strength and the Thunder King shook the skies for days. In the end, Xuen fell. Lei Shen did not have him killed; instead he took him to the highest peak, Mount Neverest, and had him bound there, forced to watch the pandaren being led into an era of slavery that would last for thousands of years.
But although Xuen was imprisoned, he was not idle. It is here that the story of this staff truly begins.
For millennia, Xuen was alone, able to do nothing but watch the mogu empire inflict unforgivable cruelty on its slaves. The he saw he seeds of revolution take hold.
It began with a single pandaren, Kang, who believed the mogu empire's reliance on slave labor made it weak. He learned how to fight without weapons, using the strength of his opponents against them, and taught it to many other. Soon he and his followers escaped to Kun-Lai, where they honed their abilities and philosophies in secret. One day, Kang climbed to the top of Mount Neverest to meditate, and instead found Xuen.
The White Tiger's isolation had not made him angry or bitter. It had simply made him eager to help. He guided Kang and the other novice monks in the ways of strength-not simply the strength of raw power, but the strength of endurance. "Look to the little life you can find in these heights," Xuen told him, "and you will know strength."
Kang looked, and saw scattered, isolated trees growing along the Kun-Lai ridgelines. They were twisted and gnarled, but he soon understood they needed to be. They had to endure biting winds and harsh sleet. Their trunks needed to be sturdy and strong, their roots deep.
It was those trees that formed the walls of the monks' monastery and supplied the wood from which they crafted their first weapons-not blades, as their enemies had, but staves. Kang brought his to Xuen, who blessed it. Kang named it "Sheilun," after his son, who had died to the mogu's cruelty years before.
Kang carried Sheilun for years, all throughout the Pandaren Revolution. The staff did not win the war. It was Kang's words that galvanized the mogu's slaves, and it was Kang's will that drove hom onward when all seemed lost. On some days, Sheilun was a mere walking stick. But some days it was all that kept the mogu's swords and axes from carving his heart from his chest.
Sheilun was there the day Kang died, as he gave his life to topple the last mogu emperor. With that sacrifice, the former slave freed all of Pandaria.
Sheilun was brought back to the monastery in the mountains, serving as a quite symbol of what could be accomplished through the strength of inner harmony. The monastery itself, however, was not quiet at all. It had never been busier.
Xuen warned the monks that, although they were free, they had inherited the responsibility to protect Pandaria from the evil minds that wished to claim it. Every one hundred years, the mantid--dangerous insectoid creatures--would swarm the land. All that stood in their way were the brave souls who woud fight atop the Serpent's Spine, a great wall protecting Pandaria from the mantid's ravaging mayhem.
The monks who remained in Kun-Lai dedicated themselves to preparing for this threat. And every on hundred years, pandaren monks lined the top of the Serpent's Spine to face the overwhelming waves of mantid and risk their lives to protect their land. Xuen would always allow one mistweaver to carry Sheilun into this centennial battle.
It is impossible to say how many lives were saved by those who carried this staff. It is impossible to say how many of its bearers died in service to Pandaria. But their sacrifices were not in vain. The wall still stands, even today.
Almost ten thousand years ago, this staff passed into the possession of the last emperor of Pandaria. Perhaps you've heard his story. But please understand: before Emperor Shaohao became a legend, he was an untested, uncertain young pandaren, completely unaware of the burdens he would bear.
On the day of Shaohao's coronation, a monk from Kun-Lai presented him with the gift of Sheilun. The new emperor did not know its importance. He did not even recognize the monk as being sent by Xuen, the White Tiger; he merely thought it was a pretty ornament. Shaohao believed he was destined for a life of comfort and ease. Pandaria had been a peaceful land for generations. Why would he believe that would change?
A jinyu waterspeaker received a vision of the future that shook Shaohao's confidence: soon, very soon, an army of demons would invade Azeroth, and the damage would be catastrophic. Pandaria would not survive the devastation that would follow.
Shaohao was greatly distressed. He sought out the advice of Yu'lon, the Jade Serpent, who told him he would save no one if he did not rein in his emotions, which were out of control and dangerous.
Shaohao would travel Pandaria in search of the wisdom that would save his land. This staff, Xuen's gift, it accompanied him. This journey would change Pandaria forever.
Shaohao set out his travels with his frien, the mischievous and playful Monkey King. Before they got far, a great wind surrounded them. The Monkey King was carried away, disappearing into the distance. It was an event unlike any Shaohao had ever seen, and he soon found himself struggling to keep up.
Doubt and despair rose up in the emperor's mind... and then they rose up outside of his mind, taking form as monstrous creatures. When the Jade Serpent told him his emotions were dangerous, she had been speaking of the sha, ancient shadows of a fallen Old God. The terrifying Sha of Doubt and the Sha of Despair confronted Shaohao. To dispel them, Shaohao had to listen to Chi-Ji, the Red Crane, and let go of those emotions, ridding himself of their burdens.
He continued his pursuit of his friend, following him all the way across the Serpent's Spine and into the land of the mantid.
When Shaohao looked upon the mantid lands from the Serpent's Spine, he was frozen with fear. To cross into their territory was to risk almost certain death. The Sha of Fear held him immobile, paralyzing his thoughts. Niuzao, the Black Ox, was there to remind him that fear only controlled his mind, not his feet. Shaohao understood, wrested himself free of fear, and walked on.
Shaohao saved the Monkey King from the mantid's clutches and brought them both back to safety. Now, without fear or despair or doubt, Shaohao believed himself ready to face the Burning Legion's might.
But he saw no need to face it alone. He wanted an army to command, so he climbed Kun-Lai... and finally came face to face with Xuen.
The monastery atop Kun-Lai has changed over the years. What had once been the only refuge for free minds was now the training grounds for the most dedicated fighters in the land. These were the souls who trained to fight the mantid and all Pandaria's other enemies.
Shaohao came to them confidently, demanding that they submit to his authority. Xuen saw that he was carrying his coronation gift-his staff, Sheilun-but that it had been nothing more to him than a walking stick. The White Tiger also saw that the emperor had rid himself of a great many dangerous emotions... but not anger. No, Shaohao's anger toward the Legion made him brash and reckless.
" Why do you fight?" Xuen asked.
" To destroy demon hordes! To crush those that oppose me!" Shaohao declared.
Xuen offered a simple challenge: "Strike a single one of these monks, and you will have command of them all." Shaohao accepted. He swung Sheilun over and over again, but he struck nothing at all. The monks were too skilled. They easily evaded him.
Shaohao's humiliation and anger built up, and then they exploded. A great darkness burst forth from him, and in his rage, Shaohao broke Sheilun over his knee and lashed out with the power of the Sha of Anger. When he regained his senses, a monk lay dead, the victim of Shaohao's unchecked aggression.
Xuen watched the emperor's heart break for the life he had taken. And then Shaohao knelt humbly, accepting his failure, ridding himself of anger forever.
" Again I ask, why do you fight?" Xuen said.
" For the people I protect," Shaohao replied. "For them, I would give my final breath."
Shaohao was now ready fo fulfill his destiny. He took one half of the broken staff and returned to the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, prepared to save Pandaria. PART TEN
The Legion had invaded to the north. A great battle was taking place at the Well of Eternity. And soon, very soon, it would end.
Shaohao returned to his people and tried to give them confidence, but there was none to be given. The Sundering was at hand, and its fury would change the face of Azeroth forever. There was nothing that could be done to stop it.
All Shaohao could do was shield them from annihilation. With Sheilun in his grasp, Shaohao committed his final breath to protecting his land and all who lived within it. This staff had saved countless lives before-and in one moment, it saved countless more.
Free of all his burdens and negative emotions, Shaohao became one with the land. Through Sheilun, his spirit was transformed, surrounding Pandaria as a great mist.
Pandaria drifted away, immune to the chaos that gripped the rest of the world. The Sundering passed the land by, and for thousands of years, the mists would continue to protect Pandaria.
But although Shaohao disappeared that day, Sheilun remained.
Sheilun was found shortly after Shaohao's ascension. Monks brought it to the Terrace of Endless Spring for safekeeping, where it stayed for millennia.
Several generations ago, a mistweaver master wrote at length about its history and meaning.
" It was not Sheilun that prompted Shaohao to make his sacrifice. It was not Sheilun that inspired Kang's revolution that freed his people. It was not Sheilun that kept the Serpent's Spine standing against countless mantid cycles. But it was there for all of those events, in the possession of people who could act. It is the perfect companion to those willing to sacrifice everything in order to save others. And I believe it has not yet found its final bearer."
-Master Xunsu, Mistweaver of the Terrace of Endless Spring
Puños de los Cielos
PUÑOS DE LOS CIELOS
The last thing Azeroth needed, on top of all its other problems, was to suffer another elemental invasion. It was good that you cut down Typhinius so quickly. Had he gone unopposed, he might have become truly unstoppable once he mastered these weapons.
<br But now the Fists of the Heavens are in your hands. You have a balanced heart; you seek harmony in all things. There is perhaps no other creature on Azeroth more capable of wielding this hurricane of power than you.
It has not been long since Uldum was revealed to the world, and thus, many fragments to the tol'vir's history are still hidden from us. Still, it is becoming clear: the Fists of the Heavens are some of the finest weapons their society ever crafted. And they are also some of the most dangerous artifacts the world has ever seen.
There are tales of an ancient weaponsmith, a master without peer among the tol'vir. His name was Irmaat. His name is known to all surviving tol'vir as one of the most exceptional minds to have lived in Uldum... and also as a cautionary lesson. Irmaat was drive to create incredible works, but his pride turned oit to be his undoing.
The titans created the tol'vir to protect key locations across Azeroth. Over the millennia, some fell to the forces of darkness. For a very, very long time, Uldum did not. Irmaat, its weaponsmith, worked tirelessly to arm his brethren with the finest instruments possible.
For Irmaat, his work was not simply a duty. It was his calling. He saw his hands as extensions of the titans' will, and he wanted nothing less than to give his creations the ability to restore order to all chaos. He began to imbue his weapons with magic, using different sources of power to inspire him.
The power of air in particular held a special interest to him. He secretly observed the Skywall, the realm of air in the Elemental Plane, and studied the way its creatures lived and fought. Irmaat forged four scimitars, representing four extraordinary djinn lords. And then, in a ritual that stunned the tol'vir with its audacity, Irmaat summoned and bound those very four lords within the weapons themselves. Their power now belonged to the tol'vir.
Irmmat's four scimitars became highly coveted among tol'vir warriors. Stories of their power rapidly spread, and messengers came from other tol'vir ourposts, begging Irmaat for more of those wonders.
BUt he weaponsmith's satisfaction was short-lived. He had accomplished somethin great, but it was not perfect. Irmaat had seen himself the true elemental power of the Skywall. Even the captured might of four djinns was but a light breeze compared to the ultimate power of that realm.
Irmaat carefully began crafting two new weapons. Not scimitars this time. Two smaller weapons, one to be held in each hand. He named them Al'burq and Alra'ed, and he intended for them to control a power that, by its nature, could never be tamed.
After Irmaat forged his new weapons, he declared them to be his finest work. These "fists of the heavens" would be capable of commanding the wind itself. All that was left was to capture the ultimate power within the Skywall: the elemental lord .
Irmaat began the ritual slowly, not wanting to warn the Windlord of his plan. It took weeks of preparation, but once he was ready, it was over in an instant. The weaponsmith cast his spell, intending to open a portal to the Skywall and bind Al'Akir's essence. There was a great flash of light and a great rush of air, and when it was done, Irmaat could feel his weapons, Al'burq and Alra'ed, trembling with elemental power.
He believed he had succeeded. He believed he had accomplished the impossible. His surety was what led to his death.
Of all the elemental lords, Al'Akir was known to be the cleverest. When Irmaat captured four of his most prized lieutenants, the Windlord was filled with wrath, but he recognized an opportunity to exact vengeance. He suspected that Irmaat's pride would drive him onward.
When Irmaat's spell concluded, he felt Al'Akirs power quivering. But it was not the elemental lord's spirit; it was Al'Akir's trap. When Irmaat hefted his two weapons and tested the power within them, uncontrollable fury spilled forth.
The weaponsmith, his forge, and a number of buildings within Uldum were destroyed by the hurricane of might that had been unleashed. The weapons themselves were hurled miles away. The unfortunate tol'vir who first tried to recover them were similarly destroyed. Al'Akir had made Irmaat's greatest creations unusable, filled with so much power that nobody could ever hope to control them.
The tol'vir carefully locked the weapons away, burying them deep. For millennia, nobody dared to touch them or repeat Irmaat's folly. Al'Akir's lesson had been learned very well.
The events of the Cataclysm changed Azeroth forever.
Uldum was revealed to the world. The remnants of the tol'vir came under assault. Al'Akir and another elemental lord were slain by Azeroth's champions.
We have only begun to feel the ripple effects of those events. We do know that the death of Al'Akir left a power vacuum among the air elementals. His surviving subordinates went to war with one another, scrambling to secure leadership of the Skywall. None found any immediate advantage, for none were as powerful or as clever as their master had been.
But one djinn, Typhinius, sensed that there were still scraps of Al'Akir's power out there. The Fists of the Heavens would not stay buried for much longer.
Lingering rifts in the Skywall allowed Typhinius to leave quietly and hunt for something that would elevate him above his kin. He let his senses guide him and was led to an empty, nondescript part of the desert outside Uldum. When he dug into the sand, he found wwhat the tol'vir had buried: the Fists of the Heavens, Irmaat's last creation.
Typhinius realized that, though Al'Akir was dead, the weapons' elemental chaos remained--but it seemed to be slightly, just slightly, more stable than when the Windlord lived. Still, when The djinn first wielded the weapons, the resulting burst of power nearly destroyed him.
But slowly and secretly, Typhinius learned how to keep his old master's power under control.
When Typhinius returned to the Skywall with the Fists of the Heavens in his grasp, he immediately set out to end the air elementals' civil war. It was not simply his raw power that quelled them. They sensed the essence of their old master, and it compelled them to obey.
There were those who refused, of course. Other djinns believed that they could band together and overcome Typhinius's borrowed strength. A huge battle nearly ripped apart the Vortex Pinnacle, and a brutal clash in the Temple of Asaad saw tremendous losses on all sides.
In the end, Typhinius was not the cleverest. He was simply the strongest, and he overpowered his enemies. He flung the spirits of those who had opposed him into the other elemental realms. Alone, they could not stop their natural enemies from finishing them off in a slow and agonizing fashion.
Thypinius declared that he was the rightful heir to Al'Akir, and that he would finish that the Windlord had started.
The war in the Skywall has caused more damage than Typhinius realized. It would take time for the air elementals to regain their strength and prepare for a full offensive.
TYphinius had no interest in waiting. The moment he felt the Burning Legion invade Azeroth, he knew that the mortal champions of the world would be preoccupied. He told his minions that there would be no better time.
The raids on Uldum began almost immediately. The Fists of the Heavens swept away all early resistance. PART TEN
Typhinius's assault on Uldum was a serious strategic error. The civil war had not long passed, and the fighting power of the air elementals was still weaker than it might have been only a few months later.
The only advantage they had were the weapons Al'burq and Alra'ed, but even Typhinius had not mastered their true potential yet. He could unleash carnage, yes, but most of his efforts had to be spent keeping Al'Akir's fury from ripping him apart.
Typhinius's pride was fortunate for Azeroth. His ambition drew attention, and it was that attention that led to the discovery of his plans. He launched his war too soon, and even these weapons could not save him.
The history of these weapons is marked with pride. The power that they contain can only be harnessed by a balanced mind and a harmonious spirit. Any arrogance, any cockiness, will inevitably lead to ruin for their wielders.
But if you are already practiced in walking with the wind... the Fists of the Heavens will finally have a master who can make them truly legendary.
- El favorito de Odyn
- La leyenda de Odyn
- Tratado sobre los muertos
- Palabras de viento y tierra
- Tomo de los Ancianos
- Libro de Sangre
- Escrito sobre artilugios malditos
- Archivo de la Guardia de Tirisfal
- Tratado de los Antiguos Reyes
- Saga de los Valarjar
- Escrito de Secretos Viles
- Palabra del Cónclave
- Historias de la Caza
- Parche 7.0.3 (20 Jul 2016): Añadido.