CCOS entrant- Armaster
Derrigan, The Armaster is a hooded man, with loose-fitting clothing that clings to his body yet doesn't restrict his movements. They have silver linings that are made of elaborate embrodery but the clothing itself is dark. He bears silver weapons that are exquisitely designed yet expressively simple in their purpose- a pair of longswords adorn his waist while a shield, spear, and bow are on his back. Despite this- there is a mysterious air about him. The bow has no quiver nor arrows, the spear seems to twist slightly when looked at out of the corner of the eye, and the hammer likewise seems to pulse. His face, while kept partially hidden beneath the hood, bears a finely trimmed beard and mustache combination of a red hue.
KIT Armaster's kit functions similar to Udyr's kit, where he cannot max out all of his abilities. However, each ability will permanently alter Armaster's stats until he switches to another. No stat will continue from one weapon to another. His abilities are somewhat lackluster on their own, it's only when he achieves his Armaster Focus that he truly shines in combat.
Innate: Armaster Focus Armaster gains 'Focus' stacks while fighting. When enough Focus is gained, his abilities will gain additional effects the next time he uses them, causing the Focus stacks to decay until they're all gone; this Focused State lasts for 7 seconds. Once this ends, he will be unable to gain Focus for a short period of time (20 seconds). Focus stacks are gained by damaging enemy champions with different weapons and he gains 1 stack for every time he hits with a new weapon. At 5 stacks he will be able to enter his Focused State. Q Focus - Armaster's next auto-attack will strike twice, triggering on-hit effects with each hit. W Focus - The knock-up radius is doubled. E Focus - Armaster will spin the spear around after landing, dealing the landing damage to all units within range again. R Focus - The ability can be reactivated again for 2 seconds to fire another shot.
Q: Dual Swords Activation - After a brief pause, Armaster sweeps both blades outwards in a half-circle, dealing physical damage to all enemies and gaining movement speed over 2 seconds for every enemy champion struck. Damage: 30 / 60 / 90 / 120 / 150 ( +50% Bonus AD) Cost: 30 / 35 / 40 / 45 / 50 mana Range: 420 Cooldown: 7 seconds Movement Speed increase: 10 / 15 / 20 / 25 / 30%
Stat Change: Armaster gains attack speed so long as the swords are his weapon. Attack Speed increase: 20 / 40 / 60 / 80 / 100%
W: Hammer and Shield Activation - Armaster brings down the hammer, creating an AoE knock-up (1.25 seconds) at the location after a brief delay (0.25 seconds). Damage: 50 / 75 / 100 / 125 / 150 (+35% Bonus AD) Cost: 30 / 35 / 40 / 45 / 50 mana Range: 500 AoE Radius: 200 Cooldown: 7 seconds
Stat Change: Armaster gains a portion of his maximum health as a shield. This shield will be restored if no other weapon is switched to (and no damage is taken) for 10 seconds. Shield value: 50 / 75 / 100 / 125 / 150 + 3 / 7 / 10 / 13 / 16% of his maximum health
E: Spear Activation - Armaster jumps to the targeted area, striking the spear into the ground and dealing damage in an AoE around the impact. This move roots him briefly after landing unless he damages an enemy champion. Damage: 40 / 60 / 80 / 100 / 120 (+ 20% Bonus AD) Cost: 30 / 35 / 40 / 45 / 50 mana Jump Range: 600 AoE Radius: 250 Cooldown: 7 seconds
Stat Change: Armaster's auto-attack range is increased to 275 and he gains bonus Lethality. Lethality: 3 / 6 / 9 / 12 / 15
R: Bow Activation - Armaster fires a shot in the direction, damaging all units touched and stopping if it hits a champion. This shot applies on-hit effects. Damage: 60 / 75 / 90 / 105 / 120 (+65% Bonus AD) Cost: 30 / 35 / 40 / 45 / 50 mana Range: 700 Cooldown: 7 seconds
Stat Change: Armaster's auto-attack range is increased to 450 but increases up to 600 over time if he stands in place. Range Increase: 50 every second of standing still.
LORE
I'm not sure exactly how much of a lore is required to enter. I'll post the beginnings and I'm still working on it but the basic summary is he's part of an order that exclusively exists to master all manner of weapons. Unlike most of the order, he refuses to use the mental imagery of channeling his pain and emotions into a fire to be consumed, instead preferring to use a river to be cleansed and returned to him. His master does not consider him a failure or an upstart, but does insist he needs to leave in order to walk his own path.
The boy entered the room as the wooden door closed behind him. It was quite dark, with three torches preventing him from seeing either ceiling or floor. The boy stood atop a simple wooden platform, with no steps or other construction leading to or from it aside from the door. On close inspection, a silver thread the width of three fingers stretched from the platform, reaching off to touch another across the room. On this far platform stood the Gatekeeper- his robes concealed his limbs and offered no hint of movement. His eyes were closed as he intoned the beginning of the ritual.
"When you can stand before me and tell me who you are- you will train as an Armaster."
The boy frowned and takes a tentative step forwards, his rough and threadbare tunic, leggings, and boots standing in stark contrast to the finely woven garments of the Gatekeeper. His steps were hesitant as the thread bent and swayed from side to side with each touch, making balance nearly impossible for him. He finally managed to stand straight and look across the room at the man who stood a spear's throw away. The young boy drew a deep breath to speak, "I am Der-"
Abruptly, the thread was cut, sending the boy plummeting to the abyss. After falling for a few seconds, he slammed into the ground, gasping in pain from the injury. Above him, he could hear the Gatekeeper's voice.
"When you can stand before me and tell me who you are- you will train as an Armaster."
The boy groaned and slowly crawled to his feet, glaring at the rough handholds in the wall that would lead back to the platform. Another failure...
Days passed. Each day the boy knocked thrice upon the door, each day it opened to reveal himself to the Gatekeeper. Each day the ritual was repeated. The boy would attempt to tell the Gatekeeper his name, his job, his parents, his country- but nothing would satisfy him. Each and every time the boy found himself falling and hitting the ground. He was not always so fortunate to escape injury, sometimes a bone was cracked, a limb was twisted, a rib was broken- but he persevered. And why not? There was nothing else for him left in the outside world but pain and cold. Each night the boy dreamed of the fires that had been lit to consume his home- and each night he dreamed of gaining the power to prevent it from happening again.
After four weeks, the boy took his place on his platform, waiting for the fateful words. The Gatekeeper spoke, "When you can stand before me and tell me who you are- you will train as an Armaster."
The boy said nothing, he bowed his head low and made not a sound as he stared intently at the thread. Silence reigned over the room for hours, neither figure moving nor speaking. As the twelfth hour passed, the Gatekeeper's voice rang across the room.
"Your name, your friends, your family, your home- your past- it will not define you from this day forwards. Be welcome."
The boy carefully walked across the thread, taking his place on the far side as the Gatekeeper threw the doors wide. He thought his struggle over- he later thought back on what a fool he'd been to think so.
He had been introduced to the Grand Armaster, an elderly man with robes as dark and elaborate as the Gatekeeper, but with the addition of a white beard that stretched down almost to his feet. As the doors closed behind the boy, the Grand Armaster beckoned him forwards to another room. The boy entered and found himself in a room entirely devoid of light, save for a spotlight that illuminated the Grand Armaster as he seemed to stand on nothing in the center of the wide room- easily large enough to fit a hundred men and not jostle any elbows. The elder had removed his robes and now bore his battle-hardened body for all the world to see. Only a pair of leggings adorned his frame.
On closer inspection, the boy could see dozens, hundreds of silver threads, each the size of a hair as they formed a complex web around the room. The Grand Armaster intoned a new mantra as the boy carefully touched one of the threads- it was taut- yet it gave easily when he touched it.
"When you can stand before me and call yourself one of us- you shall be an Armaster."
The boy has wondered at this- the old man was well over a dozen paces away and clearly bore no blade with which to cut the threads he now was (furiously) trying to stand on. But if nothing else- four weeks of repeating the previous exercise had left him with extremely potent balancing skills. He straightened, reaching an arm out to instinctively grab at a nearby thread to help keep steady.
"I-"
WHAM!!!
The boy woke up later in a sparse living quarters. When he groggily gazed into a mirror and wash basin, he could see the large bruise on his forehead from where he'd been struck. He hadn't even seen the old man move. A ringing bell summoned him to what he was then told would be his training- but the boy called it hell.
"When you can bear this burden without discomfort or complaint- you will be an Armaster."
A 100 kilogram bag was dropped from far above, landing on the students's back as he stumbled and crashed to his knees with a gasp. He looked up to see the Grand Armaster beckoning him to follow. With a groan, the student did as commanded.
"When you can see without opening your eyes- you will be an Armaster."
The student was blindfolded, relying only on his ears alone to dodge the staves being swiftly swung at him. He dodged first one, then another, only for the third, fourth, and fifth to batter at his head. He knew not how many more came after that.
"When you can suffer without pain- you will be an Armaster."
The student felt first one, then another needle strike his arm. He screamed aloud as the sensation spread over his body entire- pain eclipsing his world.
In between these courses, one for each day, the student was attacked constantly. Other students older than himself would attack with all manner of weapon: staves, blunted swords, small wooden shields, ropes and small darts- he quickly learned to defend himself no matter what the situation. Weapons were scattered about the temple and the students all made use of them. A shield could catch an arrow and turn it aside. An ax could pull at the shield, tearing it from the owners grasp and hacking at them. A spear could keep the ax at a distance- forcing him away beyond his reach. A sword could parry the spear aside- sweeping towards the opponent to slash across the chest. A bow could shoot a swordsman down before he came remotely close... and so the student learned. The Armasters were an order of warriors that dedicated their lives towards perfecting the art of honing ones body- the student learned quickly.
But despite his progress in the martial arts, the student could not pass the mental exercises. He could not remain calm like the others- not yet. The Grand Armaster gave him tea as the two crouched low on a mountaintop, the wind whistled past and rubbed the flesh raw, yet the student would not complain. The liquid was soothing the student's parched throat. The old man shook his head as he looked at him, the magnificent beard swaying in the breeze, as a heavy sigh came forth.
"You have come far in training your body- but your mind remains far behind. Why do you cling to the past and the pain? Your fear, your past, all of these things are to be fed to the fire within- burn them and toss them away. You must be a fire that consumes all and leaves nothing but an Armaster." The old man leaned close, reaching into a pouch and beginning to pour white dust from first one hand, then the other, never spilling so much as a single grain. "Why do you fear the fire?"
The student remembered his home, the thatched roof being consumed by flames and his family still inside as he was held down out front, laughing soldiers forcing him to listen to the screams of his family as they burned alive. His hands trembled at the memory and he shook his head, unable to answer. An Armaster would not learn the art merely for revenge.
The old man began shaking his hands, coating the student in powder. "Until you accept the flame- you will never be an Armaster." At their side was a single torch. The old man grabbed it and thrust it upon his student, who erupted into white flames. The student screamed as the old man calmly intoned his newest lesson, "When fear no longer rules you- you will be an Armaster."
Weeks turned into months, or possibly years, it was hard to keep track of time in the temple. The student grew stronger and faster as he reached manhood- soon the tests no longer gave him pause.
First one bag, then another, and another dropped onto his shoulders- the man did not stagger nor did a single sound escape him. He easily walked aside the Grand Master as though completely unencumbered.
The whistling of the staves guided him, the man could dodge all seventy-two stave strikes, no matter from what direction or order.
The needles pierced his flesh, and the man did not move nor tremble at the touch, a thousand needles pierced him and a thousand times he made no sound.
He found himself in the room again, standing in front of the Grand Master as he intoned once more.
"When you can stand before me and call yourself one of us- you shall be an Armaster."
The man raced forwards, leaping from thread to thread as he dodged each of the Grand Master's strikes- each a perfect blow that would kill a lesser man instantly. For hours they danced among the threads- striking and parrying at one another until they both came to a halt. The man spoke.
"I am an Armaster."
The Grand Master bowed low, "Were it only so. You do not embrace the flame- but still you have come far."
The man shook his head, "The past is not to be hurled into a fire- to be burned away. It is thrown into a river- to be cleansed and returned to you. Pain and fear are no different- they make you who you are."
The Grand Master smiled, "You are not an Armaster. Yet still- perhaps you are. Go out into the world- travel it entire and return to me. Perhaps the flame is not the only road to travel. If it is so- you must walk it alone."
The man clasped arms with the Grand Master. He returned to his room to find a set of weapons and robes awaiting him. After donning his new vestments- he departed the temple. He did not feel despair nor fear- instead he felt something he had not felt in some time- hope. He had been cleansed by his training. No longer did nightmares torment him at night about his family, the jeering soldiers, his powerlessness- now they held clear skies and open fields. A new world was opened to him- and he was keen to see what it offered. And if it offered they that would abuse those who could not fight back, well then, perhaps someone should fight for them.
Though he did not look back, had he done so he would've seen the Grand Master staring after him, a single tear upon his cheek.
"Goodbye, Derrigan Armaster. May you walk well and far."
And from there- a new tale begins...