The Swords of Senthoi

[Cirran]

This is the background I wrote for the Swords of Senthoi WAR guild. The idea started out small, but turned into a rather large story, and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. It outlines the backstory of the three guild leaders: myself, Mithryn and Erander. Comments and feedback are certainly welcome. Part Two will be the first reply to the main thread.

Part One

Imperial Calendar 2301 -
Lothern, Eataine

A single tear rolled down the High Elven Princess’ cheek as she hastily finished her note to the Phoenix King. Glancing up for just a moment, the Princess gazed upon an ornate crib in the corner of the room. In it, three infants slept peacefully. “You will live on, my sons,” she whispered silently in the darkness. Turning her attention back to the note, the Princess gently folded it and sealed it with her personal signet ring. She rose quickly, walked toward the crib and attached the note to its side. Gazing one last time upon her sons, she leaned over and gently kissed each of them on the forehead in turn. “Cirran… Erander… Mithryn… may Asuryan always watch over each of you.” With that, the Princess fastened her cloak around her shoulders, grabbed her staff and ran out onto the balcony where a Great Eagle sat perched on the railing. She mounted it and flew off into the night sky.

High above Finuval Plain, Saphery

Lightning crackled in the clouds below the High Elven Prince as he coasted the thermals atop his dragon mount. The gaunt features of his face were set into a grim expression as he contemplated what he was about to do. There’s no going back now, it is far too late for that. He gently touched his left hand to the jet black amulet that rested on his breast and it began to glow dimly. The Prince could feel the amulet’s power reaching out toward his faithful dragon, and he suddenly felt the noble beast become alarmed. The dragon shook its head violently and roared out in pain, and then… it became calm once again. The plan had worked; the amulet had broken the dragon’s will. Knowing what he had to do next, the Prince jerked on his mount’s reins and they swiftly entered into a dive toward the storm clouds. The Prince readied his shield, lowered his lance and prepared to attack.

Finuval Plain, Saphery

Levitating high above the field, sweat glistened on Teclis’ brow as he struggled to keep Malekith’s dark magic at bay. Neither of the two sorcerers could gain any sort of advantage, and Teclis was beginning to tire… he hoped that the feeling was mutual. Below the Arch Mage, a battle of epic proportions swirled in a sea of Elven blood and death. The vast, glittering battle line of the High Elves was clashing with an even greater battle line of black-clad Dark Elves, who were being aided by their accursed Chaos allies. He could even make out his brother, Tyrion, in the center of the fighting, cutting down swathes of Druchii with each swing of his fiery magical blade. The air was filled with the crackling of magical energy, and great volleys of arrows and crossbow bolts flew back and forth between the two warhosts beneath Teclis’ feet. The fate of Ulthuan was in the balance, and Teclis could do nothing more to aid his fellow High Elves than keep the Druchii’s Witch King in check. Suddenly, the left flank of the High Elves began to buckle under the combined charge of a regiment of Dark Elven Black Guard and Chaos Warriors. Teclis knew he had to think of something, and fast… or this battle would be lost and Ulthuan would fall.

Then, he heard it. A dragon’s cry filled the air, and a mournful warhorn sounded in the storm clouds above him. Glancing up, he saw a large shape descending from the clouds. A great red dragon plummeted from the sky in an attack dive, with a High Elven Prince mounted on its back. The Prince was leveling his lance, which had a pitch-black banner attached to it. In the center of the banner, a single, white rune of Senthoi was emblazoned. Teclis recognized the standard as one belonging to one of Phoenix King Finubar’s Eatanian bannermen and, for a split second, his heart jumped. Had the Phoenix King somehow broken the siege of Lothern and sent reinforcements to turn the tide in the battle for Finuval Plain?

The dragon-rider soared by Teclis in a red blur, and veered off toward the High Elven artillery line. He watched as it gracefully flew over ranks of archers and the repeater bolt thrower crews behind. The Prince’s warhorn sounded once again, and a cheer went up among the High Elf lines as the dragon circled to make a strafing run near the army’s right flank. Drawing even with the center of the fighting lines, the dragon twisted back around in mid-air and dove low toward the edge of the two armies. Suddenly a thought occurred to Teclis: why had the dragon-rider ignored the currently hard-pressed left flank in favor of the strong right? As the dragon’s head reared back to unleash a spout of dragonfire, Teclis gasped, something was terribly wrong. The dragon’s current flight path would put him directly over the High Elven battle line. It was at that point that Teclis realized the High Elves had been betrayed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. This battle would be lost, he and his brother were both going to die, and the Witch King was going to conquer Ulthuan.

Suddenly, a lightning bolt shot down from the sky and struck the dragon square in its side, knocking it out of its strafing position and nearly causing it to be grounded. The rider pulled up on its reins and struggled to maintain control as Teclis saw a gaping wound open up in the dragon’s side where the bolt had struck. Teclis turned his head skyward to look for the source of the magical lightning and saw a breathtaking sight. Directly over the right side of the battlefield, the storm clouds had parted, and the sun was shining through. Teclis squinted and saw the silhouette of a Great Eagle and rider against the blazing sun. Then, the rider urged the eagle downwards, and the pair surged down through the break in the clouds toward the wounded dragon.

The clouds merged back together as the pair passed through the gap, and the eagle let out a cry that tore through the sky. Teclis could now make out that it was, in fact, a mage on the back of the eagle… and the mage also appeared to be female. Donning flowing white robes and wielding a staff that glowed a bright blue, the Elf maiden’s long, blonde hair flowed behind her as she dove toward the betrayer and his dragon. Teclis saw her mutter an incantation and her staff glowed even brighter as several pure-white fireballs came careening out of it. They slammed into the dragon’s wounded side, and Teclis saw the great beast begin to sway in the air. The Elf maiden’s lips moved again, and her staff suddenly changed form. It was no longer a wooden staff, but now a brightly shining longsword. The mage raised it in the air, shouted a battlecry and white flames suddenly began to dance along its blade.

Teclis held his breath as the eagle drew near the dragon. The dragon-rider, knowing that he would be unable to mount an effective counter-charge, dropped his lance and drew his blade. Then, the two forces met. The eagle swerved around to the wounded side of the dragon, dodging its great maw and claws as it flew past as the mage struck out with her burning sword. The blade ripped into the dragon’s side, burning through scale and sinew, and the dragon cried out in pain. The mage swung her eagle around the dragon and made a pass by its rider… their two swords clashed in a shower of sparks and flame as the rider managed to parry her attack. Unwavering, the Elf maiden turned her eagle back around for another pass, narrowly dodging a spout of dragonfire that erupted from the throat of the wounded beast. This time, she steadied herself and flew directly toward the dragon’s head. Dodging several breaths of dragonfire as she approached, her eagle once again soared by the dragon’s maw, except this time, the mage leapt from her mount just as it flew by the dragon-rider. The dragon-rider was caught completely off guard as the mage impacted with him and knocked him out of his harness. The pair went tumbling over the side of the dragon, and fell in a final, fatal embrace into the sea of Elves below them. By this time, all artillery batteries on the field had leveled themselves with the two beasts that continued to fight in the air above the battle, and they were both brought down in a hail of deadly bolts. Inspired by the Elf maiden’s sacrifice, Teclis turned his attention back to the Witch King… and began to draw power from his staff in a desperate gambit to put an end to the battle.

Lothern, Eataine

The sun rose over the High Elven city of Lothern, its glittering towers shooting up into the morning sky. Finubar the Seafarer, the Phoenix King, took in the scene from a window in his private study. In his mind, he turned over the events of the recent days: the defeat of the Witch King at Finuval Plain, the breaking of the siege of Lothern and the flight of the Dark Elves back to Naggarond. It was almost too good to be true. His heart, however, was broken. On his desk in front of him was a letter addressed to him from the wife of one of his most loyal bannermen. It spelled out in frantic script, a tragedy that brought tears to his eyes.

My King,

I hasten to write this note to you so that I may be able to stop the treachery that my husband is planning to carry out at Finuval Plain. Until now, I have remained complacent in his plots out of pure love for him, and for that I am truly sorry. We have done nothing but deceive you and betray your trust over the recent years. As I write this, my husband flies on his dragon to Finuval Plain in an effort to hand the battle to the Witch King. In return, the Witch King has promised him rule over Eataine and a place on his court once you are overthrown. I have tried to convince my husband that the Witch King will never follow through with his promises, but he is too corrupted to listen. He is no longer the man I once loved, and it breaks my heart to realize that. I will not allow his plans to come to fruition, nor will I allow the Witch King to corrupt Ulthuan as he corrupted my husband. This is the promise I make to you.

In return, I ask that you grant a mother one final wish. My three sons will need protection and care after I am gone. I ask that you provide that for them… allow them to grow strong and tall… teach them the ways of our people so that they might bring honor to Ulthuan where my husband and I have failed. This is my dying wish, I beg of you to grant it.

Finubar put down the note, gazed out upon the beautiful Straits of Lothern, and wept.

[Cirran]

Part Two

Imperial Calendar 2530 –

Dragon’s Spine Mountains, Caledor

Mithryn ducked under the sweep of the sword and pressed his attack. The young Caledorian noble was an agile Elf and a Dragon Prince-in-training. His attacks on his sparring partner came rapid and fierce. Jab… parry… thrust… He found an opening in his partner’s defenses and knocked him to the ground. Swiftly, he disarmed the Elf and lowered the wooden sword to his throat. “Yield,” Mithryn commanded in a proud tone. The other Elf grudgingly nodded and pushed away the wooden sword, obviously frustrated that he had been bested by a younger swordsman. “I would still best you in a joust!” he quipped at Mithryn. Mithryn just grinned and shook his head as he turned to see two heavily armed Elves approaching. They were covered from head to toe in the finest Ithilmar armor he had ever seen, and atop their heads sat winged golden helms. Both of them wielded wicked looking halberds. Mithryn recognized them immediately as royal guardsmen of the Phoenix King, he had heard of them before in legends.

“Mithryn Caldaran” one of them spoke, “by order of the Phoenix King, we are ordered to bring you safely to the city of Lothern, please come with us.” Mithryn’s grin quickly disappeared, and he shot a quizzical glance back at his sparring partner. The other Elf just shrugged. “Lord Caldaran, we must leave immediately,” the royal guardsman said coolly.

Mithryn sighed, “Well, I suppose I do not have much of a choice…”

“No, you do not,” was the cold reply.

The White Tower of Hoeth, Saphery

Erander stood quietly in the dark room with his eyes closed; several candles of different sizes glowed faintly around him. He listened to his breathing, judged the movement of air throughout the room, felt the faint heat from the candles surrounding him. Then, in one swift, flowing motion, he struck. Drawing his elven greatsword from his behind back, he swung it in a wide, arcing, circular motion around him. The blade swept up, and down, over each candle in turn, extinguishing each flame without even touching the wicker beneath them. He felt the room become completely dark.

Smiling to himself, he opened his eyes to the darkness and murmured a simple cantrip to light up the room. None of the candles were harmed. I am getting better. There was a knock on the door. Erander moved to the door, and swung it open to see his Loremaster mentor standing in the corridor. “Erander Sapherior” the aged Elf said calmly, “you are being summoned to the court of Phoenix King Finubar.” He smiled.

Erander was taken aback. “Yes, Loremaster,” he replied, bowing.

“You leave on the morrow, prepare yourself.” The Loremaster nodded, and strode back down the corridor.

The Straits of Lothern, Eataine

The ocean breeze blew gently over the deck of Mathlann’s Vengeance and Cirran breathed in deep. He loved the clean, fresh smell of the sea. It was rejuvenating, and made him feel at peace. As the hawkship swiftly cut through the waters of the Straits of Lothern, Cirran could see the Emerald Gate opening in front of him. It was a vast, bronze gate with the largest emerald he had ever seen set in its center. It was also the only thing that stood between him and the open waters of the Great Ocean. He breathed a sigh of relief… soon, he would be away from the politics of Lothern and out on patrol with his fellow Sea Guard.

The sharp cry of a Great Eagle broke the silence of the moment. Cirran looked up as the eagle veered toward Mathlann’s Vengeance, swooping down and eventually landing on the main deck, causing several crewmen to scatter and knocking over several barrels. Mounted on its back was a messenger of the Sea Guard. Cirran walked up to him and greeted him cordially. “Greetings brother, what brings you on board my ship? Judging by your manner of transportation, this is rather urgent… and it better be since your eagle just made a mess out of my main deck.”

“Hail Captain Kethisar” the messenger returned, “your patrol is being recalled, and your presence is requested back in Lothern at once.”

“On whose authority?” Cirran replied sternly.

“By the order of the Phoenix King, Finubar the Seafarer, Captain,” the younger elf looked downwards, obviously trying not to draw the ire of a ranking officer. Cirran glared at him.

“The Sapphire Gate will be re-opening shortly, to allow you back into the city, Captain,” the messenger continued.

“Very well then,” Cirran nodded to the messenger and turned toward his helmsman, “we make for Lothern!”

Lothern, Eataine

The Phoenix King looked down from his throne at the three young Elves kneeling before him and smiled. Each one was dressed differently, reflecting the colors of their home provinces. There was bright red for Caledor, deep blue for Saphery and sea green for his own province of Eataine. However, each of them was so similar in so many ways. It was not difficult to realize that they were brothers. “Rise, my friends” he said softly, “it is time for me to reveal why your presence is required here today.” The three Elves rose slowly, averting their glances from the Phoenix King as a sign of respect.

“Two hundred years ago, Ulthuan was under siege by the forces of Malekith, the Witch King, along with his Chaos allies. It was a war that caught the High Elven nation by surprise, and our armies were hard-pressed to hold the enemy back. The Druchii made it all the way into the inner kingdoms, besieging the likes of the Tower of Hoeth and even the city of Lothern itself. While I was trapped here, in the city, a great battle took place in Saphery, on the Finuval Plains, which was to decide the fate of our people. I assume you have heard of this conflict?”

The Sapherian nodded slightly, “We have been taught of the Battle of Finuval Plain at the White Tower, my King.”

“Very good then” the Phoenix King continued “you obviously would know who the heroes of that battle were then?”

“Tyrion and Teclis, your majesty,” was the Sapherian’s reply.

“There was another, beside the two grandsires of Aenarion,” the Phoenix King said, “… your mother… or I should say, the mother of all of you.” At this, the three Elves exchanged confused and somewhat shocked glances. The Caledorian was the first to speak.

“Your majesty, what do you mean my… mother? I am a son of Caldaran, and I have no brothers. You must have me mistaken for another.”

“No, young Mithryn, it is you who are mistaken. Your brothers, Erander and Cirran, stand beside you right now, and while you may have been raised in Caledor you are very much from Eataine.”

Mithryn shook his head, “This is impossible, if what you say is true, why wait until now to tell us? Why separate us at birth and send us to different parts of Ulthuan? Who were our parents?”

“I shall tell you…” the Phoenix King began. He then proceeded to tell the brothers of their parents and the many loyal years of service that they both gave him, their father as one of his finest dragon-knights and their mother as a powerful arch-mage. The discussion then turned to their father’s ultimate betrayal and their mother’s timely arrival to stop him at Finuval Plain, at the cost of both their lives. “Your father’s noble house fell into ruin after he and your mother died at Finuval, but your mother’s last request was that I see to your safe upbringing in the hope that you may one day serve Ulthuan and restore the honor of your house. In order to keep your identities secret, so no other nobles would call for your deaths after your father’s betrayal, I sent each of you to a trusted friend in three different provinces of Ulthuan to be raised and tutored. Now, the day has come that you realize your true identities, and fulfill your mother’s dying wish to bring honor back to your house,” Finubar paused for a moment to let it all sink in.

A minute of silence passed, until the Eatainian brother looked up at the Phoenix King and spoke, “My King, these revelations are shocking to me, and they will certainly require some time to cope with, but what is it that you request of us?”

“Cirran, it is time for the house of your father to be reborn. I have an offer for all of you. The time to test your loyalty to me is at hand. If you prove yourselves to me, then I will restore the honor of your family’s house. The current situation in the Old World is rather grim. Humanity is once again beset on all sides, and the Dwarfs are too busy fighting off an invasion of Greenskin filth to aid them. Therefore, it falls to us, the sons of Ulthuan, to answer the Empire’s call for assistance. In a few months, I will be setting sail at the head of a great armada to go to the Old World and meet with Emperor Karl Franz of the Empire. The Asur will fight alongside his people, and we will win the day. The three of you will lead a battalion of my warhost that will be newly created specifically for your command… the Swords of Senthoi. As you know, Senthoi is the rune that stands for loyalty and unity… it was also the symbol of your father’s house. Prove to me that you have these qualities by putting everything you have learned to use, and you will have your family house restored. What do you say, my friends?”

Cirran was the first to speak, “All my life I have loved Eataine and Ulthuan with all my heart. I have risen through the ranks of the Sea Guard, and stand ready to fight and die for my homeland. If what you say is true, and we are members of a fallen noble house, then I will love these two as brothers and work with them to restore our family’s honor through service to you. My King, I will sail with you.” The young Sea Guard kneeled. The two other brothers exchanged glances, nodded and smiled, kneeling beside their newly discovered brother.

“Very good then” Finubar smiled broadly as he looked upon the three brothers, “however, there is one more person that you must meet, for he will be the Master of Scouts for your battalion.” The three brothers rose and looked around. “Kelthas, come forth,” the Phoenix King ordered. A side door opened in the chamber, and a young elf dressed in head to toe in dark leather armor with a grey cloak draped over his shoulders stepped out. He strode over next to the brothers, and greeted them with a nod and a smile. “Friends, I would like you to meet your half-brother, Kelthas Aran, Shadow Warrior of Nagarythe. Your father sired him on a trip to rendezvous with Malekith in the Shadowlands, and I was sent word of him shortly after the battle at Finuval Plain. He is an expert of his craft, and will serve you well. He has already agreed to accompany us to the Old World.” With that, the brothers greeted Kelthas warmly and the four turned back to the Phoenix King.

“Your soldiers will be assigned to you shortly and you will be sailing with the armada on Cirran’s ship, Mathlann’s Vengeance. We leave in a few short months… I believe you all have some planning to do,” with that, the Phoenix King nodded to the brothers who returned the gesture with a bow of respect and strode out of his court to prepare for the adventure to come.