Embodying the power of a voice imbued with deep magic, the Warchanter is offered as part of the new Ascended Soul Pack, coming with Update 3.6: Celebration of the Ascended. Learn more about what defines this soul, and explore a Warchanter’s tale by Captain Cursor!
The Warchanter is a single target healer for Warriors, specializing in the use of shouts and chants, balancing cooldowns to protect and preserve.
Shouts of encouragement bolster an ally – chief among these is “Stand Tall,” a long duration heal over time (HoT) that amplifies many of the other effects that a Warchanter can cast. To synergize with this they have Turn the Tide, a massive healing cooldown that converts overhealing it does done into a protective absorbtion shield. They otherwise deal Physical or Life damage when applied to an enemy target.
To incentivize their prowess in close range situations, Warchanters use Bond of Brotherhood, which improves healing significantly. This effect is doubled when healing allies within 5 meters.
The Warchanter embodies a rich gold and green tapestry of color that symbolizes the magical voices of power within.
The Warchanter pairs exceptionally well with the Liberator, providing additional healing and damage support.
Journey to the Depts of Hammerknell: A Warchanter’s Tale
Down, always down. Sometimes by choice, often heart-stoppingly due to a missed foothold, or a spirit leaping forth from those accursed rune vessels on the cave walls. The group of elven warriors had come to Hammerknell to end Dwarven pollution of the land, but nothing had gone right. They further regretted their pursuit of a rumored portal in the depths of the caves.
As they had feared, even the most innocuous healing spell could set off a damaged rune vessel, releasing the souls bound within to enact deadly revenge on their liberator. The expedition had quickly lost its cleric, and then, one by one, the rest of the expedition fell to attrition. Or fell into the depths.
As the warrior Tasoton reached out for a handhold, the side of the cave cracked under his weight and started an avalanche of rock from above. As he gritted his teeth against the pummeling of dislodged stones, a clear voice rang out in the darkness of the cave. “We won’t falter!” shouted Orleen.
Warchanter; that’s what the rest of the squad called her. She healed them, or more precisely, she enabled them to overcome their wounds. Whatever she was, they were grateful for her presence.
“Stand tall!” Orleen patted Tasoton lightly on his bruised back. His burden felt lighter, and her encouragement helped him keep moving forward, deeper into the ancient ruin.
No sooner had the party regained their footing then an apparition of some long tortured soul (space needed) began to tear itself loose from the rock wall itself. Tasoton struck out at it only to have the shadebound soul curse him, draining his very life force.
“Brush it off!” called out the Warchanter, who clambered over the fallen rocks to get next to the elven warrior. Her voice pushed back the darkness. Encouraged, he took the proper stance. “I’m with you!” Orleen’s voice sounded, as she drew her sword and stepped to his side.
The shade continued to uncoil from the rocks, screaming from its many mouths, its clawed hands swiping at the living, the many souls contained within its dread form coiled and knotted around each other. The remaining eight members of the elven party stopped in their tracks, their blood suddenly ice cold in unnatural fear.
“Get in there!” Orleen shouted, evaporating the clutching dread, “Nobody backs down!” The warriors halted their retreat and charged. The apparition’s attacks glanced off them, as if Orleen’s voice and faith in her fellows was a physical force.
“I am your shield!” Orleen called out and fell into position next to Tasoton. “We stand united!” she intoned, and together the two of them formed a challenge, advancing upon the abomination of a thousand tortured, runebound souls.
Time lost meaning as they pushed on through the dark crags of Telara, unwilling to return to the surface, to admit defeat. Deeper than any had ever thought possible, they came to an end at last, a point where the caves below the boundless quarry of Hammerknell ended. The massive, rune covered stone door before them astonished all in the elven expedition. Undaunted, and sensing they were close to their goal, Tasoton, Orleen and the others used a halberd as a lever. With massive effort, they manage to force it open.
A bright, white light poured through the opening, blinding them them all. But the air smelled of grass and forest, life and sweetness; the elves found themselves unable to resist. One by one, they passed through, their faces eager, joyous. Orleen found herself caught up in the lure of this mysterious portal as well. As she approached it, breathing deeply of the glorious scent of green, vibrant life, the stone door suddenly slammed shut with a thunderous crash, releasing a cloud of ageless dust that filled her mouth and covered her skin.
As the cloud settled and her eyes readjusted to the quiet, phosphorescent light of the caves, Orleen saw a hooded figure before her, his hand bearing the glowing mark of a star upon it, outstretched toward the door.
“Not for you!” commanded the figure, “That paradise is denied!” He laughed. (Cut this. The order of the fallen star is super serious business. No time for jocularity.)
Orleen let out a cry of battle rage and plunged her sword through his heart. The man, if he was a man, began to cough up blood, but smiled as he fell forward into her unwelcoming arms. “Your soul will wander these caves for all time, never to find rest. Never to find Ascension.” Orleen dropped him onto the cave floor in disgust and despair.
She was alone now. Her encouragements and wisom had brought the expedition to this point, through the most dire peril, but who would encourage her now? She sighed and brushed off the dust. (cut the ‘I’, all her lines are the exact names of her abilities.) “I Stand Tall!’ she whispered to herself, and began the treacherous climb.
