A begining in Ulthuan

[Grumbaki]

Ulthuan. The fabled homeland of the elves. That is where the tale of Caeldrim started. More specifically, it started for him in Chrace. That mountainous and heavily wooded province of the enchanted isle was his home. He grew to adulthood, earning his keep as a game keeper. He was a hunter and a defender, always armed with his bow, ready to see off any monster that lumbered down from the mountains or any raider who came from the sea. He had sworn an oath that he would defend his homeland at any cost, and it was an oath which was soon to be called upon...

Caeldrim stalked silently threw the forest, carefully creeping up towards the deer he had been after. He had never been a very skilled tracker, but as long as he kept it in sight then he didn't have to be. It stopped at a lake and dipped it's head to drink. Caeldrim drew back the string of his bow and took careful aim. He let out his breath as he let go of the string. His arrow flew out and hit the stag in the side. It fell to the ground and pulled itself up, ready to sprint. Another arrow flew out, hitting it in one of it's back legs. It fell down once more. The third arrow hit it in the back of the neck, putting it out of it's misery.

Caeldrim smiled in triumph, though it quickly died as he moved up towards his kill. Where once there was a magnificent beast, beautiful enough for him to admire, now there was only a broken carcass. He knelt down and carefully pulled out his arrows, pleased to note that they were all reusable. He washed away the blood in the river and put them back in his quiver. He cupped his hands to drink from it, but then noticed that there was blood flowing into the water. He marvelled at the swirlling shades of red that were being washed away. The colors and the movement was intoxicating. He sighed and lost himself within it.

---

Caeldrim was broken from his reverie by the snapping of a twig. He shot around, his free hand instinctively reaching for his short sword. He sighed and let his hand fall away. Crouching in front of him with a broken twig in his hands was his older brother, Elthair.

"You are four hours late, brother." Written on his face was a mocking smile.

"I was just looking into the water. I have only been here a few moments."

"Look at the sky." Again, that mocking tone.

Caeldrim looked up and saw that his brother was right.

"The blood ran into the water. The colors were beautiful."

"You...shouldn't feel that way." This time his voice held nothing but concern. Caeldrim shrugged.

"You fear that I might become like the savages in the old world, lost in the old ways of Kurnous?"

"No, I fear that you might become like the other savages. And you know as well as I do that they do not worship Kurnous."

"You...you dare compare me to them?" His voice dropped down to a hiss, as it always did when he was angry.

"Of course not, and you know it! It's just that it will only be a matter of time until we are called up to fight, and you should not think of death as beautiful. It is not good for your soul. Now stop acting like an indignent whelp and let's get that home." He pointed at the dead stag and bent down to lift it up. Caeldrim quickly slung his bow over his shoulder and helped his brother. The two elves dragged it through the forest towards

"I heard that Elandeal found one of the Druchii in the forest. Is it true that they are even attacking us here?"

"He got the drop on one of their shades. His head was put up on the edge of the forest. If they attack us here in the forests, then they are fools."

[Brad the Inhaler]

funky, 15xp

[Grumbaki]

As the two elves made their way back to the village, the smell of burning wood and flesh reached them. High above the trees a great plume of smoke rose up. Off in the distance there was a scream. Caeldrim exchanged a glance with his brother, and the two of them dropped the deer and broke into a sprint towards their village. The closer they got, the louder the screams were. The two elves unslung their bows and knocked them, ready to fire on a moment's notice.

They were almost to the village when Ecthelion broke through the trees at a sprint. Caeldrim, who was fleet of foot, even by the standards of his people, had outdistanced his brother. Ecthelion suddenly went down with a scream, there were three bolts sticking out of his back. Out of pure reflex Caeldrim brought his bow up and took aim at the figure facing him. It was an elf dressed in black, with a hood up and a scarf wrapped around his lower face. Hate filled eyes squinted at him. The arrow flew out, but the scout ducked to the side and the arrow planted itself firmly in the tree behind him. The shade brought up his repeater crossbow and let loose a hail of fire. Caeldrim literally jumped behind the cover of a tree as the deadly bolts whistled by him. He came around the other side and let loose a quick shot at the dark elf. The druchii was no rank amateur though, and he had already taken cover. Caeldrim's arrow hit the tree that the dark elf was hiding behind with a thunk. He quickly ducked behind his own cover as the dark elf returned fire. Four more bolts flew by, impaling themselves in nearby trees. Caeldrim was about to spring forward to fire another shot back when he heard a gurgling sound. He peered from behind his cover to see the shade lying in a pool of blood. His throat had been cut. Elthair was standing over him with a bloody dagger. Elthair the stalker, as he was known. Even Caeldrim, who'se sight and hearing were better than that of most elves had to strain to hear him when he snuck up. Caeldrim nodded his thanks and went over to Ecthelion and checked for a pulse. The elf was dead. Caeldrim felt his emotions well up inside of him. He had known Ecthelion since he was a child. The elf had been his friend. And now these blackhearted wretches had killed him. He didn't have to say a word. He had his brother crept up towards his village to see if there was anything else they could do.

[Grumbaki]

The village of Tol Cethque was in flames. Riders on black horses rode from house to house with flaming brands, setting everything alight. Dark clad shades hid in the shadows, spraying deadly bolts into the streets. Here and there high elves were arming themselves, but they were scattered and were being cut down.

It was all too much. A grimace born of rage spread over his face as he took an arrow from his quiver and took aim. With a prayer to Khaine on his lips he let it fly. It took a dark rider in the chest. While the blow wasn't enough to kill him outright, it did knock him off his saddle and onto the ground. The blow winded him and he struggled to rise. An elven militiaman ran up to the downed dark elf and impaled him with a spear. The high elf was immidiatly taken down himself by a hail of bolts from the tree line. The militiaman fell to the ground, dozens of bolts sticking out of him.

Elthair pulled on Caeldrim's arm.

"We have to go. If we stay here we will die. We need to make it to Tol Achare and prepare for war!"

Caeldrim was about to protest. He took one more glance back at his burning home and then nodded. There was nothing more that could be done here. For the first time in his life, hatred burned in his heart as he and his brother fled into the forest and away from the slaughter.

[Grumbaki]

The two elves fled the destruction, heading towards the mountainous fortress of Tor Achare. Behind them lay only death and destruction. While a fast runner, Caeldrim was not built for endurance, and he soon had to take a break. He and his brother stopped and rested near a brook, trying to catch their breath.

"I...I think that we are far enough away."

"We should push on."

Damn him. Always so strong, so silent, so...superior.

"Night will fall soon. This is a perfect place to make camp."

"True, but if we stay here then the druchii will catch up to us. We need to keep moving."

"Just let me catch my breath first then."

Caeldrim went over to the brook, cupped his hands and filled them with water. He splahed it over his face to wash away the dirt and sweat. He then cupped his hands again and took a drink. Elthair allowed him a few minutes rest before he started looking impatient again. Finally Caeldrim pulled himself up to his feet and followed Elthair further into the woods. The sun had fully set and night had fallen. That was not a problem for Caeldrim, who could see in the dark more clearly that even other members of his kin.

"Watch out for the root."

"What roo-" With that his brother tripped and fell to the ground.

Caeldrim offered him a hand up. "Now may we rest for the night?"

"...fine."

[Grumbaki]

It was two days later that Caeldrim and his brother reached the fortress. Set on a spire of rock in the edges of the Annulii Mountains, Tor Achare is one of the greatest cities of the Elves and is capitol of Chrace. The city wends up the nearly vertical spire for almost half a mile, about and in the stone: one of the most unusual and breathtaking pieces of architecture in Ulthuan. The sight was breathtaking. City and fortress, a safe haven in a time of war.

Without undue hassale they marched inside, passing through the ornate gates to get into the city spire. Around the city were the largely uninhabited Achare Mountains. The Achare Mountains are permanently marked with the scars of Chaos. The area is rife with dangerous beasts from the Annulii, and with the taint of Khaine from the nearby Blighted Isle. Due to its forbidding nature, it serves as a natural barrier between Chrace and Nagarythe. Situation around the spire, it offered further protection against any attack.

The two of them had been in the city before, trading in fine pelts for the fineries that the city could offer. Now they headed straight towards the barracks. Already there were a group of refugees forming around it, with sergeants herding them towards one place or another. Caeldrim and Elthair took their place among them. Caeldrim suddenly smiled, realizing that a number of elves here were from his village.

"Caeldrim? Elthair? By Isha, I thought that you were dead!" Eldrith turned and hugged Elthair, and then did the same with Caeldrim. With him were several other villagers.

The sergeant who was directing them put his hand on Eldrith's shoulder.

"Experience in battle?"

"None sir."

"Your with the archers. Head over there to be armed."

He then turned to Elthair.

"Exerience in battle?"

"Twenty years in the militia, and I have fought in one battle as an archer."

"Any training as a spearman?"

"Of course."

"Well, you are with the spearmen now. Head over there to be armed."

He then turned to Caeldrim.

"Exerience?"

"One skirmish just two days ago, and a lifetime as a hunter."

"You'll be with the archers then. Head over to the left for armaments and training."

Caeldrim nodded and headed over.

[Grumbaki]

It was November 2521. A month earlier Malus Darkblade had led the Druchii into Ulthuan, in yet another invasion. Earlier that year the dark elves had invaded, unleashing their dragons upon Ulthuan and retaking Anlec. Now they were invading Chrace...

Caeldrim found himself inside the barracks. His personal equipment had been taken from him and stored away within the barracks, clearly marked with his name and that of his family should he fall. Replacing it was that which the army had given him.

He stood at the training grounds with the other archers. All together there were twenty of them. Everyone had a steel helm on and a mail coat, which covered their upper arms, upper legs and body. Hanging from their belts were elegant long swords (though Caeldrim kept his knife and stuck it in his boots). In their hands were longbows, provided by the city, and quivers full of arrows were hung over their backs. Everyone was young (by elven standards) and that is why they were to fight in the back, firing arrows, instead of fighting in the front lines with spear and shield. They would fight in two ranks, but for now they were simply learning how to use their longbows.

And while they trained, the elven host gathered. Word had reached them than a Druchii army was marching towards the Phoenix Gate. Elves from all around marched to the city. Forces from Saphery and Cothique marched to the city as fast as they could, while the entire region gathered it's warriors. Rank upon rank of spearmen lined up, their spears gripped tightly and their shields held out proudly in front of them. Dozens of archers, himself included, practiced their skills so that they could fire volley after volley, as well as perfectly aimed individual shots at closer range. White Lions, deadly warriors from his homeland came in to once again pledge their service to their lords. Swordmasters silently filed into the city, surrounding their wizard charges. Silver Helms rode through the city, proudly displaying the heraldry of their noble houses. In a short amount of time, a sizable force had been gathered, and it marched out.

He could feel the fury of Khaine inside of him as he marched alongside his fellow archers. He could feel the need to kill flow through his veins like a river of blood. The bloody handed god called out to him, and he listened. With his jaw firmly set he remembered the slaughter of his village, the dreadful loss of life. He could smell the burning wood and he could hear the screams of the dying. He could see the eyes of the killers. They were murderers, all of them, completely devoid of any virtue. Letting any of them live was a crime. He could see that the others within the citizen levy had a different kind of determination in their eyes, as they were fighting to protect their homes and loved ones. Besides for his brother, he had lost both already. He was fighting out of duty, both to his country and to the fallen. As the elven host marched out, he silently vowed to himself that he would get his revenge.

[Grumbaki]

The host marched forth with all speed. For many days they marched, only rarely stopping to rest. Speed was of the essence, as they had to reach the gate before the Druchii did. The gods were with them, and on the fourth day the host reached the Phoenix Gate. The Druchii host, slowed by constant harrassment from the Chracians were still two day's march away.

The great mountain pass was completely blocked by the fortress. A great phoenix, carved from the living rock, loomed aboved them. For many, such as Caeldrim the sight was awe inspiring. Many of the elves stopped in mid arch to marvel at the sight. The sentries at their posts, spotting the army, relayed the news and the great gates slowly opened, allowed the elves to march in.

Eldrith turned to him and said with awe in his voice:

"Have...have you ever seen anything to magnificent?"

All Caeldrim could do was shake his head.

They were broken out of their reverie by their sergeant, ordering them forward. With the gates wide open, the elven army marched in. Rank upon rank of glittering warriors marched into the inner realm. Spearmen, swordmasters, archers, white lions and silver helms all marched inside.

Sergeants snapped off orders, and with discipline enough to shame even the most veteran of human regiments, the elves raced to their new positions, following their leaders. Caeldrim followed his regiment towards a flight of stairs leading up to the parapets and all but ran up it. The twenty archers filed out, each taking up their positions on the wall alongside the defenders already there. The elven army quickly took up positions, with archers and spearmen lining the walls, and heavily elven cavalry down in the court yard. Caeldrim took a quick glance back and looked down the pass. Another host was marching towards the gate. Colorful banners made with the skills of artists that had practiced their craft for centuries marched towards them. A smile spread across his face as he saw them coming, rank upon rank of warriors. The druchii would not know what hit them.

ooc: 90xp to myself, can be changed but it's needed for SW-Longbow

[Grumbaki]

The Druchii host marched forward, their black armour in stark contrast to that of the Asur they faced. Huge blocks of infantry marched towards them, their shields raised up to stop incoming arrows. Elves with repeater crossbows came up behind them, pushing large shields in front of them for cover. There were even a few siege towers being pushed forward. In the far back of the army, there was a line of dark elves who looked even more menacing than those in front. They held large two handed blades and had baroque armour that was heavier than that of their peers.

An order was shouted out and instinctively ever archer on the wall raised up his longbow. Almost as one arrows were knocked and the strings were pulled tight. Caeldrim held the bow up in the air, ready to give the volley. He heard the order "Fire!" and with a secret smile he let go of the string. The arrows darkened the sky as the first volley was launched. Immidiately another one was prepared.

The arrows blackened the sky for a moment before gracefully falling down to the earth. Screams filled the air as the Druchii raised up their shields to stop the arrows. Still, many found their way through, piercing through their mail and ripping their way into them. Still, the Druchii marched on, leaving their wounded behind. A few ran, but were quickly cut down by the executioners behind them. The crossbowmen came on as well, their pavises filled with arrows. A few went down, filled with arrows. The second volley was let loose, and with it repeater bolt throwers fired out large bolts. The missiles wrecked havic in the druchii ranks, and they were not even close to the walls yet.

Scattered along the wall were mages. With hands raised they chanted words of power. Against Caeldrim's expectations, there appearned to be no sorceresses to oppose them.

The sky turned red as great hurricanes of magical power were unleashed. Great holes were simply blasted out of the druchii lines. One of their siege towers burst into flame, and burning figures leapt out of it only to fall to their deaths.

The druchii return fire was sparce, as the Asur were well protected behind their wall. Again and again the archers let loose volleys, and then, as the druchii got close enough, the order was given to stop, and for individual aim to be given. The field in front of them was thick with corpses already, and for it the Asur had taken little real damage themselves.

With a crash, the first siege tower finally hit the walls. It opened up, and desperate and hate filled warriors charged out, swords raised. They charged right into a spear wall. On top of the tower crossbowmen fired down at the Asur, knocking a half dozen to the ground, half of them falling off the wall itself. Caeldrim took careful aim with his bow and let an arrow fly loose. It took a crossbowman on the shoulder. The elf was knocked backwards and fell right over the side of the siege tower. He let loose a loud laugh as he saw his foe fall to his death. All around him his regiment fired as well, filling druchii with arrows.

Along the wall the story was similar. The attack faltered in the face of the determined resistance. But their foes were numerous and kept on comming. The elite druchii hung back, their blades ready to kill any that fled. The druchii assaulting the walls fought with the fury of those who knew that they were going to die, and they gave no ground. They received none either.

Giant ladders were thrown up to scale the wall, and they were thrown right down. Siege towers crashed into the wall, and frenzied attackers met disciplined Asur spearmen. All the while the hail of death continued from the walls, falling upon the swordsmen on the ground, and the crossbowmen on both the ground and on top of the towers. Asur mages called down the very heavens upon their foes, blasting huge holes in their army.

Caeldrim fired again and again, and before long his arm felt like it was made out of led. Still, the fury of Khaine was within him, and it gave him the strength to keep on firing. With each shot he took careful aim, whispered the name of an elf who had died in his village and then let the arrow fly.

The ground was covered in dead Druchii. Here and there they forced their way onto the walls, but they were swamped by the Asur on the walls and pushed back into their own towers. The bolt throwers fired again and again, only into the towers. Finally, one of them fell apart, crushing those on the ground and sending dozens of Druchii plumeting to their death.

The assault was bloody, and it lasted for nearly the whole day. But finally, as the day neared it's end, the last of the Druchii simply broke and ran. Minutes ago the elite Druchii in the back ranks had left, and only when that was realized did the remaining warriors flee. As they did so, the gates opened up, pushing aside the broken bodies of the dead and wounded. A cheer went up along the wall as the elven cavalry sallied forth to chase down the broken rabble.

But even as he cheered, something lingered in his mind. Why had the assault been so poorly supported? The army had been large, but it was only full of stock troops, with the elites hanging back. And why were there no sorceresses? Obviously the commanders felt the same way, as he could hear a pair of sergeants talking about it down the wall. He looked into his quiver and saw that he had but a single arrow left. He raised up his bow and fired one last parting shot, firing it as a volley far past the Asur riders at the fleeing Druchii. As he fired it he finally whispered the name of his dead village. He prayed that it would kill one more of them.

[Brad the Inhaler]

OOC: Stop posting so damn fast and I might get a chance to xp the posts that 90 xp is ok, have another 40 on top of it for posts since.

[Grumbaki]

ooc: Sorry, when I start writing...well, it's hard to stop.

Anyways, thanks for the xps!

[Grumbaki]

Caeldrim walked through the carpet of corpses, retrieving arrows. He had his quiver and longbow both rested on his back and he had a knife in one hand. He kicked over the body of a druchii warrior and noticed that he was still alive. He bent down over the dying soldier and looked into his eyes. The druchii tried to spit at him, but only managed to hack up more blood. The warrior was young, no more then seventy years old. In his eyes were both hatred for him, and fear of dying. With hard features Caeldrim slid his knife across the throat of the druchii warrior, and then pulled the arrow out of his chest. It came out unbroken, so he put it back in his quiver.

From the gates burst forth a rider in battered ithilmar armour. He held a in his right hand a tattered standard, while his left one hung uselessly at his side. He was covered in blood. He rode right towards the commander in charge of the defence of the gate. Caeldrim strained to hear, but they were too far away.

By this time everyone had stopped what they were doing to look and see what was happening. Hundreds of eyes fell upon them. Hundreds of eyes watched as the rider, having given his message fell off his horse. They watched as their commander shouted out "The Dragon Gate has fallen! Every elf find your standard immidiatly and await further orders!"

With haste every elf present rushed to fulfill their orders. Caeldrim stuffed the arrow into his quiver and rushed for the walls so he could find his sergeant. As he ran, he came up beside Elthair and shortened his stride.

"How could this have happened?"

"This was a distraction! The army we defeated was unsuported, it had no hope of success. But it put our attention here, so when the real attack came the dragon gate was not fully garrisoned."

"But..."

With a grimace Caeldrim picked up the pace, leaving his friend behind as he ran past other warriors to get to his regiment. He recognized their banner, which was that of an arrow threw a moon. He came to a halt by it, falling in line with the other archers. One by one the rest of the unit came.

The sergeant was missing. Caeldrim tried to look to see where he was, but with all the other regiments gathering it was hard to see. Thus they all waited, the entire host was silent.

Finally the sergeants made their way to the regiments. Caeldrim looked at him, his face was grim.

"The Druchii have broken through the Dragon Gate and are in Avelorn. A relief force is already on it's way. We are to be led by Prince Aeldroth to cut off their retreat should they try to get out through the gate." He didn't look happy, as he obviously wanted to intercept the Druchii army. But he had his orders. The sergeant then fell in line, and with orders shooting out the regiment turned and started to march.

With typical elven efficiency the host split up. The origional defence force stayed put at the Phoenix Gate, ready for any other attack, while the reinforcements headed off to the north, marching through Avelorn to relieve their bretheren.

[Brad the Inhaler]

OOC: No worries, it's good reading

15xp

[Grumbaki]

The elven army marched through Avelorn as fast as it could. Caeldrim's archers hung in the back of the army, with the spearmen in front of them and the cavalry at the fore. He had grown up in the forests of the outer island, and while magnificent in their antiquity, they were nothing compared to the magical aura that surrounded the forest of Avelorn. He marched through it, all but abosorbed by the beauty of the land. If he had any magical sense he would have definately felt the power lying in the land, but as he had about as much magical awareness as a halfling peasant, all he saw was the untouched beauty of it all. Many of the elves with him stumbled through the forest, as they had come to war from one of the elven cities that dotted the island, and were thus not used to marching through the woods. Caeldrim moved with both the grace of his kind and the skills from one born and raised in the woods.

After a three days of marching the first dark elves were seen. The druchii were fleeing. The scouts reported that many were wounded, and that they were fleeing in small groups. It looked as if though there had been a great battle, and the druchii forces had come out on the loosing end. Still, their orders were clear and they marched with all haste to the dragon gate.

When they finally made it there, what they found was the aftermath of multiple battles. Asur soldiers had already tried to wrestle control of it back from the druchii, while the druchii defenders were trying their best to keep them open as long as possible so that their fleeing soldiers could get out. The new Asur army launched itself into the battle, with the cavalry breaking out of the tree line and charging towards the open gate, riding down fleeing soldiers as they went. Druchii crossbowmen raised up their repeater crossbows and let loose at their enemies, firing right down at the riders and their own troops. Elves from both sides fell to the ground, all full of deadly bolts.

The spearmen broke out from the tree line next, marching quickly over the open ground towards the gate. Finally, after them came the archers. Both Caeldrim's unit of twenty elves, and their brother unit made a long line of bowmen. He looked out and saw the gates. Corpses of both Asur and Druchii warriors lay were they fell. The ground had been soaked in blood, and the Asur banners lay broken on the ground, cast down by the victors. With hatred burning inside of him he rasied his bow when his sergeant yelled "Aim!" His muscles ached as he held the bow string taut. When the yell "fire!" came all forty elves let loose at once, sending a volley at the Druchii crossbowmen. Blessed by their longer range, the arrows fell down upon the Druchii without the archers having to even fear being fired back upon. With all the defences facing towards the inner isle, the Druchii had no cover to hide behind. Druchii warriors fell with arrows sticking out of them. Many of the arrows failed to punch through the Druchii mail, but many more did so and the screams of the wounded could be heard. With glee Caeldrim responded to his orders, firing again and again. Controlled vollies were fired from the archers, and the parapets soon became full of the Druchii dead. Unable to keep discipline under such circumstances, the Druchii turned to flee. It was far too late. The cavalry had already ridden down the last of the fleeing Druchii warriors, and the spearmen were making their way to the stairs up of the parapets. The crossbowmen were running down into walls of spearpoints. With no more targets, the elven archers started to move forward, ready to take the walls. Caeldrim grinned as he marched, relishing the screams of the wounded Druchii. Elthair saw the look on his face and shuddered, though Caeldrim didn't even notice his friend's discomfort.

[Brad the Inhaler]

ooc: 15xp