W A R W I T C H
"Blinding Faith, Give Me Sight"
OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION
- Intent: To Created A Signature Weapon for Domina Prime
- Image Source: Dark Souls [X] | Elden Ring [X] Philipp Stein [X] Maanmamoet [X] Halfbard [X] Commissioned Art
- Canon Link: N/A
- Permissions: N/A
- Primary Source:
PRODUCTION INFORMATION
- Manufacturer: Domina Prime
- Affiliation: Dima [X]
- Market Status: Closed-Market
- Model: S T A R F A N G
- Modularity: Yes
- Production: Unique
- Classification: Greatsword
- Size: 6.5Ft Length | 2Ft Wide
- Weight: HEAVY
SPECIAL FEATURES
When the blade is fully awakened, when its veins pulse with stolen suns and its runes blaze like open wounds, Starfang becomes more than a weapon. It becomes a catastrophe in ones hand. A claymore that can unleash crescents of blinding energy, splitting through regiments and fortresses alike. The expulsion of this power leaves the air shivering, reality itself seeming to ripple in protest. Fueled by war, by fire, by violence without end, the sword drinks and returns in kind, a cycle of destruction that knows no balance, only escalation. It is not just a tool of conquest, it is a ritual of annihilation.
- Runic Resonance: The runes carved into Star-Eater are not decoration, they are scars of witchcraft, carved in ritual blood and sealed by cosmic fire. They hum when Domina raises the weapon, binding her will to the crystal, amplifying her strength and bending the Force around her in jagged ripples. Each glyph acts as a channel, directing power through her swing, lashing outward as arcs of radiant starlight that turn a single cut into a field of destruction. This resonance feeds upon intent: the stronger the conviction behind the blow, the more violently the runes scream with power. When Domina strikes with purpose, the runes ignite in azure flame, and the blade becomes more than crystal, it becomes the howl of a predator, rending matter and spirit in equal measure.
- Cosmic Reflection: To gaze upon Starfang is to see the self. Its crystalline surface does not simply mirror light; it bends the soul, reflecting one's desires, goals, and obsessions back into their mind. For the wielder, this reflection is intoxicating. The more they cling to the sword, the more it whispers, convincing them that their ambition is righteous, their hunger justified, their cause divine. This hypnotic effect deepens with time until the wielder finds release unthinkable. The blade becomes not only their weapon but their identity, inseparable from their will. Yet herein lies its curse: those unprepared to endure this reflection are consumed, shackled by their own ambition until nothing remains but the blade's hunger wearing mortal flesh.
- Star Eater: The greatest terror of Starfang is its appetite. Where others block or parry, this sword feasts. A volley of blaster fire vanishes as though swallowed by water; grenades detonate against its body only to collapse into motes of starlight; even a lightsaber, when locked in contest, sputters as its energy drains into the crystal until the blade flickers dim. The Force hurled in anger only feeds it, slipping into its crystalline belly to be twisted and transmuted into radiant witchfire. This hunger is not passive, it yearns, drawing energy into itself with every clash. And once full, it expels in a torrent, crescents of splitting starlight that ripple outward like tidal waves, cutting through matter, rending through ranks, leaving trails of burning void-fire in their wake. To face it is to feed it, and to feed it is to seal one's doom.
- Witchfire Cleaver: When its runes blaze at their fullest, when energy surges so violently that the crystal trembles with strain, Domina can call upon the sword's most dreadful gift, the Witchfire Cleave. A single downward strike splits the world as though cloth, carving not only through walls and steel but through the air itself. The wound left behind burns with azure starflame, a fire not of nature but of curse. It clings, consuming without fuel, devouring flesh, metal, even shadow, until nothing remains but glowing ruin. Witnesses speak of silence after such a strike, as though the world itself recoils from the violation, unwilling to acknowledge what has been torn asunder.
INTRINSIC STRENGTHS
FORCE AMPLIFICATION: Starfang does not merely channel the strength of its wielder, it magnifies it. Each swing of the claymore resonates with the Force, stretching muscle and momentum beyond their natural limits. The heavier the strike, the more devastating the resonance, until walls shatter and ranks fall as though Domina were the arm of a god cleaving the galaxy in two. To hold the blade is to feel that amplification in every fiber of the body. Strength transfigured into something transcendent, a storm given shape through steel and crystal.
ETERNAL EDGE: Unlike steel that dulls or shatters, the crystalline body of Starfang does not falter. Its edge is not a line of sharpened matter but a conduit of energy honed through witchcraft. No matter how many bodies it rends or walls it tears through, the sword never loses its bite. In fact, the longer it is wielded in combat, the sharper its aura becomes, as if blood and violence are whetstones upon its cursed surface. In prolonged battles, this effect makes the weapon all the more dreadful, for it only grows keener the more carnage it devours.
DEVOUR: The blade's greatest terror lies in its hunger. It does not block or resist, it consumes. Blaster fire dissolves into its surface, explosions vanish into its crystalline heart, even the sustained clash of a lightsaber is pulled apart as the weapon drinks deep. The Force hurled against it feeds the weapon's belly, twisting and corrupting pure energy into witchfire that thrums within the runes. This trait ensures that the harder an enemy fights, the stronger Starfang becomes, turning the tide of battle into a feast for the weapon and its wielder alike.
WITCHFIRE UNLEASHED: What Starfang devours, it can expel. Once sated with stolen energy, the weapon becomes an instrument of devastation beyond mere physicality. Great arcs of radiant starlight burst forth with each swing, cleaving through formations or slicing through towers of steel. When fully awakened, the blade can unleash the Witchfire Cleave, a single strike that tears the world apart, leaving behind a scar of azure flame that refuses to die. To face Starfang when it burns with stolen suns is to stand before annihilation given shape.
DESIGN FLAWS
MIRROR, MIRROR: The greatsword reflects not only the stars but the soul of the wielder. Its crystalline surface bends light into visions of ambition, obsession, and hunger, ensnaring the mind of whoever dares wield it. The longer it is held, the stronger the whispers become, until the wielder cannot separate their will from the blade's own hungering echo. Many warriors have been devoured by this obsession, their identities hollowed out until only the blade's reflection remains. To take up this cursed blade is to risk surrendering one's self, for it does not serve, it consumes.
BLADE MASTERY: Unlike lesser weapons, Starfang cannot be swung with brute force alone. Its massive frame demands strength, but its true devastation requires focus, finesse, and harmony with the Force. Those untrained, unworthy, or unprepared find themselves crushed beneath its weight, its resonance shattering bone and tearing muscle as the sword rebels against clumsy hands. Only a warrior of immense discipline and skill can endure its burden. Without such mastery, the weapon becomes less a tool and more a curse that betrays its wielder in the heat of battle.
COSMIC FEAST: While its hunger for energy is its greatest strength, it is also its most dangerous curse. If the sword devours too much, swallowing more fire, more fury, more Force than it can contain the crystalline body begins to fracture under its own gluttony. When this occurs, the blade erupts in uncontrolled discharge, releasing waves of starlight that consume indiscriminately, scouring allies and enemies alike. To lose control of Starfang in such a way is to unleash catastrophe upon friend and foe, a reminder that it is not a weapon to be mastered, but a predator to be barely restrained.
SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DAIMOND: Stealth is impossible with Starfang. Its crystalline glow and blazing runes refuse to be dimmed, announcing its presence like a torch in the void. The weapon thrums with a resonance that cannot be silenced, echoing through the Force as a beacon to all sensitive enough to perceive it. Wherever the blade goes, secrecy is abandoned; the bearer's path becomes lit by its cursed radiance. In this way, it is a herald of destruction, but also a liability for those who wish to move unseen.
NULLIFIED: Above all, Starfangs greatest strength is also it's most damning weakness: reliance on the currents of magic and the Force. In the presence of voidstones, ysalamiri, or other nullification fields, the blade runes fall silent. Stripped of its supernatural edge and radiant flame. Causing it to destabilize and bleed energy from it's core rather than consume and hold the power within itself.
RELIC CHRONICLE
They say the bones of the Mythosaur do not rest. Even in death, the great beasts whisper through the ages, their tusks and fangs thrumming with the same fire that once shook Mandalore's crust and split the skies with their roars. It was from such a fang that the Greatsword was born. A colossal relic, fossilized and crystalized by ages of pressure beneath the broken worlds, until its marrow shimmered with a galaxy's worth of starlight.
When the fang was unearthed by Clan Prime's ancestors in the shattered moons that circle Mandalore, they did not treat it as bone nor ore, but as a fragment of divinity. Too vast to be wielded as it was, it was brought to the only artisans who could bind beast, war, and cosmos into one: The Witches of Dathomir. On the bloodstained moons where they carved their runes into stone and sky alike, the covens worked their craft. They chanted over the fang for seven nights beneath eclipses, weaving sigils of destruction and threads of beauty into its crystal. Blood, ash, and ichor fed the ritual, but so too did the light of the stars themselves, trapped in the mirrored surface like constellations imprisoned in crystal.
Yet it was not beauty alone that was sealed into the weapon. The witches, ever cruel, bound it with obsession, a mirror of will and hunger. Whoever bore the claymore would see their desires reflected within its gleaming face, pulled deeper into the hypnotic glow until they could no longer tell where their ambition ended and the blade's own appetite began. Thus the weapon was cursed and blessed alike: a beacon of glory, and a chain of doom.
When it was first lifted, even the Mandalorians called it unnatural. A claymore vast as a tower door, its edge gleaming like the stars reflected in black water. Few could wield it with grace, fewer still with mastery. It demanded not just strength, but monstrous will, the kind found only in those who straddled the line between warrior and god. Among the clans, it became an exotic symbol of destruction, passed only to the strongest Inheritors who could tame its hunger without being consumed themselves.
For centuries, the weapon has drifted in and out of legend. Some say it lies in vaults of fallen clans, others that it has never left the battlefield, its bearer doomed to die before surrendering its grip. Wherever it appears, the story remains the same: armies fall silent, and all eyes are drawn to the blade that reflects both the stars above and the ruin below.
Starfang is no mere weapon. It is an omen. A crystallized truth of Mandalorian myth. That all glory is born in destruction, and that the stars themselves can be devoured by the will of war.
Out Of Character Info
Intent:
To Give Domina A Signature Weapons
Image Source(s):
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10562854/
Canon Link:
N/A
Technical Information
Affiliation:
D I M A
Model:
STARFANG
Modular:
No
Material:
Alchemized Zersium & Mythosuar Bone
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