#warlock artifacts

[southernfriedtransmogs]

Scepter of Sargeras

Destruction

[southernfriedtransmogs]

Scepter of Sargeras

Destruction

Head: Runecloth Headband

Shoulders: Tattered Dreadmist Mantle

Chest: Runecloth Tunic

Wrists: Elder's Wristwraps

Hands: Troll Handler Gloves

Belt: Repurposed Twilight Girdle

Legs: Baba's Leg Warmers

Feet: Sandals of the Courier

Cloak: Scorpion Drape

Weapon: Scepter of Sargeras

[southernfriedtransmogs]

Skull of the Man'ari

Demonology

Head: Frostwolf Wind-Talker Cowl

Shoulders: Amice of Steadfast Allies

Chest: Cat Lover's Vest

Wrists: Bracers of Envy

Hands: Flower Picker's Gloves

Belt: Felcast Cord

Legs: Conferred Pantaloons

Feet: Footfalls of Memories

Cloak: Warmongering Combatant's Drape of Cruelty

Weapon: Spine of Thal'kiel

Offhand: Skull of the Man'ari

[southernfriedtransmogs]

Ulthalesh, The Deadwind Harvester

Affliction

Head: Hood of Misplaced Dreams

Shoulders: Warmongering Aspirant's Felweave Amice

Chest: Brown Linen Robe

Wrists: Deathsilk Bracers

Hands: Frostwolf Wind-Talker Gloves

Belt: Warmongering Aspirant's Cord of Cruelty

Cloak: Unfailing Mantle

Weapon: Ulthalesh, the Deadwind Harvester

[melathorthenoble]

A Botched Ritual

“Greetings,

I speak on behalf of the Council of the Black Harvest.

With the Legion invasion upon us, it is painfully clear that our only hope is to grow stronger. The council plans to tap into the Twisting Nether and call forth more powerful demon allies. The ritual is ready, but we are short in numbers.

Should this letter reach you in time, meet us at the Circle of Wills beneath Dalaran.”

Melathor crumpled the note and threw it in one of the magical braziers that lined the streets. “I didn’t come here to play games with the Council, but if they are gathering here of all places, they must have good reason.” He turned his gaze to the open portcullis leading into the sewers. With one more breath of fresh air, he walked in and headed into the musky underbelly of the city. Down he went, walking past drunkards and fighters. Tucked away in the back area was the designated meeting place except, no one was there. Panic set in as he noticed the large and crumbling summoning portal. Around him a few other warlocks laid, disoriented and mumbling something about jailors. “What in the…” His eyes scanned over the destruction until they landed on a peculiar little demon cowering in the corner.

“I command you to stand and speak! Who are you?” Melathor’s voice boomed through the halls as the demon hopped to its feet, dropping a book beside them. “Please don’t hurt! Calydus only trying to help. Master Jagganoth will hurt them if you don’t hurry.” Melathor leaned over and picked up the strange tome. “The Tome of Blighted Instruments?” He began flipping through as one of the other warlocks came to her senses. “Master Corbett, what the demon says is true. The council and many others are still trapped inside. We couldn’t save them. We need to do something.” Melathor turned his cold gaze back to the demon. Calydus continued. “The book shows locations of powerful artifacts. These are needed to save friends. Please trust Calydus.” The demon cowered back, apologizing over and over.

Melathor paced as he flipped through the felbound tome. The warlocks began gathering around as they awoke, waiting for their next move. “What the demon says is true. The tome speaks of three great artifacts - Ulthalesh, the skull of Thal'kiel, and” He paused for a moment before continuing. “The scepter of Sargeras.” A short moment felt like a lifetime; no one spoke as they all processed the information. “I say we pick one to find first and start there. Then we can move down the list.” One warlock suggested and others chimed in agreement. Another joined in “I don’t want to work with any of you! I can do this on my own. I’m going after another.” Melathor watched each of the factions slowly begin to bicker with one another, until the commotion became too loud to concentrate.

“Enough!” His voice boomed again. “We will work together regardless of faction or race.” He glanced at a Forsaken and gave a stiff nod. “We are all in this together and whether or not you agree with the way the council has done things in the past. They have uncovered great knowledge for us all to draw from in the past.” Everyone remained silent and listened. “We will break up into groups for efficiency.” He walked among the warlocks and began assigning roles. “First group, you will be tasked with finding that Man'ari skull. And you few will be tasked with the Deadwind Harvester.” He turned to the remaining few and smiled. “Finally you all will be with me. We’re going after the scepter.” He closed the book with a loud thud and reached one hand out to the groups. “Las nagaz, parn modas ze parn me maz maez ante rakkas orah no revola.” The demonic words forced glowing wards to appeared on each of their hands before melding into their skin. “Don’t think about running off with these artifacts. We will hunt you down and we will end you. Now go! We didn’t become warlocks to sit around. Let’s show the Legion who the true masters of power are!”