Wednesday, 29 March 2017

Prince Tarkin of the Sea Elves

The aetheric winds had changed. Whether that was for good or ill mattered not, only that they had changed. Their change was the herald he needed to take his people out of hiding.

Sea Elf Prince Tarkin had hidden his people away from the ravages of Chaos for more years than he cared to count. At his order the storms that wracked the seas surrounding their island had been stoked into a raging tempest that none save a Sea Elf could navigate. His duty now was to lead his forces into the unknown beyond their storms and confront a changed world.

Prince Tarkin was scouting ahead of the army, riding his trusty gryphon Motyph, when he spotted a desperate battle in the distance. Flying closer he saw warriors in golden armor beset upon all sides by a seemingly endless tide of chaos worshipers. It appeared that the golden warriors had been pushing for a nearby relmgate when they were ambushed by the chaos warriors.

These fought with great skill. The simple fact that they fought against chaos lead Tarkin to believe they were worth coming to the aid of. Wheeling Motyph around, he headed to rally his troop.

At the dawning of the Age of Chaos, High Elf Prince Tarkin was the youngest son of one of the High Elf council members. He was young and impetuous, he was in command of a small company of men. To try to temper his youth, his father put one of his most trusted mages under his son as his chief advisor. Navarre Tralee proved to be the perfect balance of age and wisdom to the prince’s youth and enthusiasm. While they were slightly hostile to each other at first, it only took a short amount of time for them to get used to the other and become close friends.

As the Chaos incursions got worse and worse, Tarkin and his company found themselves becoming more frustrated. Due to his father’s influence they were always assigned to areas of safety and even when they were allowed to venture into war zones it was usually to extract a high value asset from behind the line or survey the leftovers of a battle.

It was on one such asset retrieval that they received word that the Everchosen had overrun their home. A small band of Ellyrian Reavers were the ones to bring the dire news. Only five of their band remained and of those not a single one was un-wounded. They told of how Archaon the Everchosen himself had led the attack and how despite the most stunning displays of bravery the city had been overrun.

The company was dismayed. What were they to do now?

Tarkin would not be bowed. He called for his men to have courage, for there was much work to be done. There had to be survivors, refugees of the attack. It was a vast kingdom and the Everchosen couldn’t have slaughtered every single elf in it, surely some had gotten away. It would be their goal now to find and protect these disparate survivors.

As they gathered survivors they presented a bigger target. They also had to fight off more and more roving bands of Chaos warriors. It was apparent that they needed somewhere safe to go, otherwise they would slowly be cut apart.

Navarre Tralee remembered an area in the southern oceans that was wracked with nearly constant tempests, and one of the survivors was a mage with experience in manipulating the weather.

With that plan in hand they set forth to the ocean. There was a realm gate nearby that would take them close to what at least used to be a harbor.

When they reached the harbor, they were disappointed (though not surprised) to find that it had been razed and all the ships scuttled. The immediately set to work repairing and rebuilding as many ships as they could from the wrecks in the harbor. Luckily it was not a deep water port and the ships were not all submerged.

After getting as many ships floating as they could they set sail. The Chaos invasion had not just been on the land, there were many creatures in the sea warped by the aether. They lost a few ships to the creatures, but managed to get the majority of them to the storm wracked Southern Sea.

When they reached the island they were greeted by an old soothsayer. She told them the finishing touches of the spell they needed to create the storm. She also gave a prophecy to Tarkin. She told him that he would know when it was safe to leave the island when the Winds of the Aether shifted. With that she died.

Without delay the mages started their incantations to set the typhoon in motion. It took them four whole days to complete the ritual. Once they had the results were even more profound than they had expected. All around the island stood a massive wall of wind-swept rain that stretched all the way into the heavens.

For the next several centuries Prince Tarkin pulled the refugees into a cohesive fighting force, going so far as to re-brand themselves as Sea Elves. On several occasions he lead the Swiftwing Agents out on scouting missions. On these outings he heard rumors that there could be more Elves holding out on the Great Green Torc.

When the mages felt the Winds Aetheric change, Prince Tarkin knew that it was time to lead his troops into the world. He also knew where they needed to go, they were to make for the Torc.

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