Not all of the Father’s children anticipated a life of combat. As a young man, Inell was exceedingly shy. He took no wife come his seventeenth harvest, instead opting for a quiet farm life. He abhorred company, and was known for his habit of conversing only with his scarecrows. While it was a curious trait, it was not considered dangerous until the great Witch Hunt.
As one of the first witches tried for crimes against humanity, he was forced to endure great torment for the amusement of the townsfolk. Ultimately, after weeks of torture, he was forced to watch the best of his friends die in the Summer Fire, their stringy hay bodies hungrily consumed by the flame. Even as they tied him to a pole, stuffed his clothes full of hay, and forced upon him a black sack that would pass for a hood, his only worries were that they may find the rest of his fields, and destroy his lonely sentinels. The injustice of their plight rang throughout his ears.
At first he was fed three times a day, despite his struggles and cries for vengeance, but soon the villagers lost interest, and began to forget. Lunch was abandoned, and then breakfast. Soon, his only meal became weekly, then monthly, and eventually was forgotten all together. He was left to die in the field, identical to any other village scarecrow. Each night, his tormented soul cried out to the hilltops, sorrowful, pained, and vengeful.
And then, through a cloak of hatred and a veil of insanity, he began to realize with utmost clarity that he no longer thirsted or hungered. In fact, his one desire was to hear his lovers, his children’s voices. Surely he heard them in the distance? The ragged, scratching footsteps? The soft whisper of their voiceless mouths? His anger, long lost over the decades past, resurged, and he willed his vengeance.
His prayers were answered. Surely he could feel his children’s hands on him now, blinded though he was!
The tax collectors were in for a shock. Where once was a bustling town, there lay nothing but ruins. In the burnt square, like a dark omen, was planted a lone pole, defiant to the destruction about it. Atop that pole lay a single, charred scarecrow.
The Scarecrow: type general
HP: Very high
Armor: Very low
Weapon damage: low
Summons 2/2/4/8 scarecrow companions (in-game name Fetish). Maximum of 2/4/8/8 scarecrows.
Cooldown: 10 seconds
Mana cost: Medium
The scarecrow is willing to pay the ultimate price. Sacrifices 300/200/100/100 health for 100/200/300/400 mana. Heals all nearby minions for 100/200/300/400 health.
Cooldown: 4 seconds
The scarecrow sets his beloved companions on fire, giving them a /small/medium/large boost to damage. Flaming scarecrows take damage until they die or the ability is toggled off. Drains 40/80/120 mana per second. Cooldown of 6 seconds (to prevent usage for purely wild toss)
Tosses a Fetish toward its death, stunning enemies in a small area by 1/1.5/2/2.5 seconds. If the Fetish is flaming, it deals damage based on Wild Toss and Last stand to the target. Fetish is lost in this desperate attack.
Cast time: 1.5 seconds
Scarecrow modifies his fetishes, rendering their movement and attack-speeds higher. Fetish attack rate increases by 5/10/15%, and movement by 7%/10%/15% Enemies attacked by a scarecrow also take a stacking .5%/1%/1.5% slow.
Other skills undecided.