Fatalis Blademaster Masteries Guide

Arena, Campaign, Clan Boss, Dungeons, Doom Tower, Faction Wars

Offense Deadly Precision Keen Strike Shield Breaker Single Out Ruthless Ambush Cycle of Violence Bring it Down Kill Streak Methodical Helmsmasher

Defense Tough Skin Blastproof Resurgent Delay Death Retribution

Fatalis Blademaster Champion Lore

The Dark Elf Frizen had only ever truly known the company of beasts. He never knew his mother and his father was a distant parent, teaching his son the basics of hunting and foraging, before venturing into the darkest bramble on one stalk and never returning. Frizen instead learned from Durham Forest’s creatures, studying their behavior. From them, he learned how to hunt through the undergrowth, climb the forest’s highest trees, and silently fall upon his prey. By the time he reached adulthood, he was more beast than person, attuned to the chaotic rhythms of Durham.

Frizen was by no means feral, however. He traded with caravans that passed through Durham’s far reaches, exchanging sturdy insect carapaces and knowledge of the forest’s creatures for food and hunting tools. Tales of the solitary ‘beast-Elf’ spread along the tracks and trails weaving through Durham, with his tattered bag of animal parts and his broadsword strapped to his back.

It was many years after his father’s death when Frizen noticed some disquiet among the forest’s creatures. Many had moved from their usual stomping grounds, displaced by something. He noticed myriad footprints all running deeper into the forest, all fleeing from some invasive terror which left much larger indentations. It took the discovery of a beast he had never seen before in one of his net-traps that all but confirmed his suspicion.

It was a small, cat-like creature, dressed up in garb that looked like that of a Human huntsman. As Frizen cut it free from his net, it remarked on the expert construction of the trap, commenting that it was unlike anything they had seen in its world. Confused but equally intrigued by this talking feline, Frizen warned it not to linger in the forest too long. Not only were its creatures troubled and primed to lash out, but any Ranger worth their salt would have this cat bagged and sold into a menagerie of other fantastic beasts before nightfall.

The cat said that the disquiet in the forest was its reason for ranging so far. It formally introduced itself as a Palico — a hunter’s aide from another world, who was on the trail of one of its world’s most formidable monsters, the dreadful Fatalis. lt told Frizen the legends surrounding this black, winged beast – including how it once brought an entire kingdom to ruin in a single night. From its bag, the Palico revealed sketches of the monster and behavioral notes gathered from legends and folklore, and said that if it wasn’t dealt with quickly, it could cause monumental destruction.

Chaotic as the forest was, it was a stable chaos. lf permitted to range freely, a beast of the Fatalis’s size and power would undoubtedly disturb Durham’s delicate equilibrium, even drawing out the primeval monsters from the forest’s heart. Should that happen, no-one would be safe. Frizen agreed to accept help from the Palico, and escorted it back to its camp to plan a strategy. The two labored for hours, swapping tactics and ensuring they were prepared for every eventuality. With trepidation in his heart, Frizen and his new companion began following the Fatalis’s trail, hoping it had not raised the ire of Durham’s ancient rulers.

Luckily for the two hunters, the Fatalis had peeled off from its incursion into the forest’s depths, instead establishing itself in a long-ruined castle on the fringe of the woodland. There, it loomed over crumbling parapets and turrets, its imposing aura weighing down the very air. The hunters entered the remains of the castle courtyard, which the monster now ruled. Taking a deep breath, Frizen drew his blade and locked eyes with the Fatalis. Its eyes pierced through his very being. It seemed to snort in amusement, before unfurling its wings and roaring. The ground shook and masonry cracked and crumbled. Frizen did not waver and instead approached the beast, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.

The battle is said to have lasted all night, with reports from one nearby canopy-town speaking of humongous jets of flame bursting from the castle’s highest turret. More fanciful story-tellers claim to have seen a Dark Elf briefly riding a black dragon with blade held high, before both plunged to the ground in a breakneck dive. The only constant is that a haggard Dark Elf eventually emerged from the castle, battered and broken but accompanied by what some say was a clothed, bipedal cat.

Frizen eventually returned to his hunting duties, but no longer with his tattered bag and broadsword. He was now clad in armor as black as night, wielding a two-handed monstrosity of a blade – one that could cleave the hide of the toughest rockworm in one strike. Tales of the beast-Elf soon faded from memory, and all that remained was tales of Frizen of the Black Scale.

Fatalis Blademaster Updates

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