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Artifact Contest: Red Tea

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Red Tea

I once wielded a scholar's weapon. It was a beautiful tool. The scrolls that rolled about it, the way my tome of notes rocked in its mooring. It was inscribed with hints of knowledge and dripped with insight and the illuminating power of the mind at work. It was heavy, and it was long, and it parted my enemies before me like a sieve. It became a symbol of my failure, and my own lack of foresight.

I once wielded a missionary's blade. This was a long sword, resplendent with inner light. It curved and shimmered, and it danced in my hands. I used it to quell my foes and leave them alive, afraid, and in enough pain to remind them to not cross my path. It whispered when I yelled on the dusty world of Draenor. I named it Mercy, and I gave it to my beloved.

I once wielded little more than a ceramic mug, for many years. I tended bar with it at first, and kept it for only myself. I never shared it. I never trusted what poison could go within when I was not the one pouring it. I tried to clean it of its stains. I wanted to obliterate the haze of lost days with cleansing medicine and vivifying tea. I could not. I still cannot.

I once wielded the worn blade of a murderer. I obeyed without question, and slayed without pause. I stained the Saronite with gallons of blood. I remember their surprise, their rage and their misery. When I wake in the night, Julilee's calm gaze on me, I still wonder if even now this is a dream and respite from the nightmares best forgotten and so viciously first in my mind. They remained buried in the chest of a man whose name I never learned.

I once wielded the knives of a duelist. I fought with bravo and flair, and dabbled in crowds more scandalous than I ever would have overheard in my parents' Silvermoon inn. I fought for the Horde with those weapons against the Lich King, for Tirion Fordring and his Argent Tournament.

I once wielded maces, and daggers, and swords from the best armories Ethereal hands could pillage and goblin coin could buy. In the pits of Outland and obscure arenas of Azeroth, I fought with Augustus Krowne, and ventured forth from my homeland with a thirst for life and vigor in my limbs I could hardly imagine.

I once wielded the utensils of a sous chef, in Murder Row.

I once wielded these. I will certainly wield others. But now I wield Red Tea, an ancient staff touched by Chi-ji Himself. Carved from bamboo, set with ghost iron. 

It is a weapon that draws and restores blood. It is a weapon I will paint, and carry, and come to know as my own.

The story of this staff? That too, I will wield, to captivate you. 

As I teach you what can be done with such a weapon.

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