Dread Elves Placeholder Thread

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    • Dread Elves Placeholder Thread

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      Lich King wrote:


      • Name: Lich King (Tom)

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    • Name: da_Griech (F.)


      Influence Points (total): 21



      So after I started out with the VS fraction which I have been playing in the past couple years, I recently switched (back) to my original army with which I started out playing Warhammer back in the 2000s when I was a little boy and barely could hold a brush. I did paint some DE once in a while in the past years, and recently found my love for them again as they have a really interesting playstyle currently.

      Unfortunately I don't have all the models painted up nicely which I currently use for playing, so I started painting DE a couple days ago... just right when DE joins the fight for Avras... - just perfect to give this fraction a little push with painting some miniatures and doing some games. I heard @Adaephon_Delat wants to get a game in with them soon :)


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      Princess Morghana from Drozkguhl, mounted and ready for war on her chaos-dragon Almak


      Background: 5
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      Princess Morghana was upset; those filthy, useless traitors in Avras! She had an agreement with them. An agreement which apparently was worthless now. She stared down to that shaking piece of misery bending to her feet and spit out. The ambassador she has sent to Avras a couple months ago was kicked out – they laughed at him, fooled him and made fun of the City-State of Drozkguhl. “Anchorites” and “Peasant-Elves” from oversees, they were insulted; from the Darkwoods of Silexia, the almighty powerhouse of Drozkguhl under the Reign of Family Darkheart since over six centuries now…

      The family business – arms and slave trade – quickly flourished under the lead of House Darkheart, even though it’s a quite young noble house in the world of the elves; they quickly found their place in the world. Not entirely arms-in-arms with the other big Dread Elf Families, sometimes even being at war with them when they are treated unfair in parceling territories for pillaging and the “protection”-business for international trade routes. It became a wealthy family, wealthy and therefore as well strong in military. Even though they always prefer trading and charging protection money rather than conquering and killing. A fact which might have prompted the leaders of Avras to refuse the requests of family Darkheart… What a mistake…

      The youngest Daughter of King Merlyn, Princess Morghana, was in charge of the oversee operations in Avras, maybe the council there thought she is not powerful, not strong enough. A small, young woman of slight build, looking as if she just turned 20 in the eyes of humans (in fact with her 83 years she still can be called a teenager in terms of elven-life-spans), with black, short hair and a big ugly staff she can barely carry. But what most people or creatures don’t see, Morghana is a true natural talent with magic, even in her young years. And with chaos. Sometimes it seems as if the winds of magic channel this young elvish lady, and not the other way around. She knows that, she feels that, and very often lets it happen up to a certain limit which she usually recognizes on schedule. If she lets that point pass and chaos and magic completely overwhelms her, its unpredictable what can happen. Some years ago when Morghana was even younger, her father and mentor in magic allured her so much that she completely lost control; triggering a large explosion, she killed several cultists in the same training room and then she suddenly disappeared – teleported, or traveled through the realms of chaos via wormholes she opened – and appeared in an ancient city state in Taphria, devastaded a whole army of an undying dynasty king and looted his belongings; the powerful Staff of Death among other things, which she carries with her since then. It is said that she can awake the dead, and heal foredoomed people with it; a skill she does not use very often. She prefers the other way around, bringing the living to the dead.

      And now Avras kickted out her ambassador and refused to tribute to the House Darkheart, to her, the youngest daughter, powerful Princess Morghana. She will raze this city, she will destroy it completely… or even better, she will slaughter the council, destroy their trade routes, terrorize the citizens and wait for Avras begging mercy, begging them to be allowed to pay her for “protection.

      “TO ARMS”, she shouted, with a magical voice echoing the whole city-state. “MOUNT MY DRAGON, WE GO TO WAR!”



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      Battle Report #1 with pictures and special scenario can be found in "general discussion" p.17; I think it is easier to keep this post as clean as possible, as at least 10 more reports will follow.



      In short, Princess Morghana ambushed the ambushing Warriors army and whiped the floor with their heads (bounty-hunter scenario). In return, the Dragon got almost killed (5 out of 6 wounds) but managed to survive with the help of an Assassin and a couple of Raven Cloaks who charged the back of the combat. Dread Judges killed the warriors-brick and the chosen brick, the Blades of Nabh were beaten up before by the Warriors.



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      The post was edited 22 times, last by da_griech ().

      • Name: Phaeoron (Jere)

      • Influence Points (total): 15

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      Ashaziel Hellspeaker

      The Listener. Corsair Seeress. Lady of Lore. The Blackfire Princess. High Librarian.

      Many are the titles Ashaziel is known by. Not always was it so, however. Once a meek librarian in Asfada, Ashaziel’s life changed when she was happened upon by a young elf with a vision that would shape the rest of her life.

      As the vision grew about her, so did her own ambitions. The one thing Ashaziel had ever yearned was more. More knowledge, more wisdom, more understanding. The fabric of being was a thing waiting to be learned, and she needed to be the one to uncover the secrets. Her personal library had swollen into enormous proportions, and she was gathering acolytes and apprentices about her to help manage this vault of lore.

      The understanding she was accumulating through her endless studies and her naturally keen and observant mind lent her quite an eye for strategy as well, which went not unnoticed by the visionary now styling himself Sovereign. Soon she was leading expeditions at the head of her own army, procuring wealth, slaves and, most of all, new tomes and scrolls for the Angraith city-state’s Library that had been formed on the foundation of her personal collections.

      Unknown to most, Ashaziel has a quiet partner guiding her search efforts: a lesser daemon from the immortal realm she summoned and bound half by accident during her youth while she was taking her first deep dive into the occult. Balcerus follows his mistress everywhere, unseen, whispering infernal secrets and lending glimpses of faraway places and happenings.

      In addition to her tactical mind and vast knowledge, and maybe most importantly of all, Ashaziel holds the title of Master Sorceress, demonstrating her formidable power in the arcane arts. On the battlefield she wields the weaves of magical energies as weapons, bolstering her troops with unnatural prowess or laying waste to enemy formations with lashes of raw magical power. Her coven of apprentices helps her channel the vast energies required to affect hundreds of troops at once, and march alongside her to the thick of battle.

      “Mistress”, the letter began. “Things are now in motion that cannot be reversed. Imperial cannons roar day and night at the gates, and the mountain clans have been roused from their Holds.”

      Ashaziel raised an eyebrow at that. The humans had been surprisingly swift in convincing the beardlings to their cause. Mayhaps a time more opportune would never come…

      “The Undercity is restless. Verminous war bands have gotten larger and bolder in their raids of the Equitaini holdings. Something stirs in the shadows, of this I am sure.”

      This was not anticipated. True, the Sonnstahl offensive Ashaziel had known was coming had been more determined than predicted, but the rats had ever been but a side note in her planning. What had stirred the craven swarms into such brash action?

      “The dead are now marching openly in the streets at night. The Vampire Queen must be sensing a real threat to expose her hand thusly. The shambling hordes seem effective enough in quelling the unrest within the city, for now.” The letter was signed simply “Stillhand”.

      The time had come. A letter Ashaziel had prepared in the top drawer of her desk, bound in silk and sealed in wax, appeared in her hand almost as if by itself. It contained a proposal to join in on the Sonnstahl offensive to take the city.

      Ashaziel needed access to the Great Library of Avras, and the Black Sun would benefit greatly from new trade connections the city could offer should there be a change of regime. Correspondence had been running hot with many princes and princesses of the Republic of Dathen, whose support would be essential for the realization fo the coup and maintaining order under the new rule.

      She was ready to light the fuse to the charge of schemes that had been in the weaving for months.

      “Balcerus!”, Ashaziel called to the empty room. A deep voice, echoing as if from a well, replied from thin air, “Mistress?”

      “I need you to relay a message to Stillhand, urgently”. A small winged daemon materialized on the desk, crouching, at eye level with the tall, seated elf. “And what shall we say to him, Mistress?”, the daemon inquired in a rumbling voice, licking its fangs with a long, forked tongue.

      “Tell him to proceed”. The daemon blinked its yellow eyes a couple of times before bursting into booming laughter. “Finally!”, the thing exclaimed, licking its lips again.





      In Avras, Tichaerion Stillhand was enjoying a simple meal in his quarters when a whispered voice uttered in his ear one, unmistakable word. Chills went down Tichaerion’s spine, and he set down his knife, straightening.

      He arose, and started navigating the maze of palace corridors with purpose. Soon he was standing in front of a door, similar to the one leading into his own quarters, and gave it a quick rap.

      Some shuffling from inside, and a tall but flabby man in extravagant robes opened the door warily. “Lord Councilman”, Stillhand greeted the man, who replied in unmistakeable Equitan accent, “Master Tichaerion, what could you possibly want this late in the afternoon?”

      Stillhand painted his face with a polite, amicable smile. “My Lord, I am sorry to disturb your leisure, yet I believe we should discuss the matter of the undead patrolling the city. I am at a loss as to what to report to the Sovereign back in Angraith”. He flared out his hands apologetically.

      “You won’t report a word without leave from His Grace Fontaine!”, Lord Charleaux hissed, and pulled Tichaerion bodily into his chambers, closing the door behind them.

      The elf straightened his robes and said, “I may not be a Lord, yet I am enjoying a diplomat’s immunity, Councilman. You would do well not to forget that, my Lord.” The smile never faded from his lips.

      The Councilman grunted, waving his hands dismissively, and turned to a small table with crystal goblets and half a bottle of cognac. “Things are not that dire, ambassador”, Charleaux began as he poured a drink. “Yes, some sightings have been reported of the dead walking within the city walls, but nothing substantial enough to rile up the masses. The fireborn clans have answered the call to secure our position and their mercantile interests here, and I am personally preparing a letter to my cousin, Duke Lemagnonne of Fousierre, to lend his aid…”

      The Councilman was cut short by a garrotte suddenly pulled taut about his throat. Stillhand carefully pulled the flailing man farther from the crystals to keep him from shattering them.

      “I fear I cannot allow that, Councilman”, Tichaerion whispered as he felt the man slowly go limp in his embrace.

      He removed the Councilman’s sash and wrapped it around his neck, hoisting him up by a beam in the roof. He knocked over a small stool to lay under the suspended corpse to finish the scene, and proceeded to pick the locks on the desk drawers of the man. He perused the scrolls and half finished letters, pocketing ones he deemed needed not be seen by anyone, and left the room, fixing the lip of the lock with a splinter so that the door would lock behind him.

      He allowed himself a slight smile as he hurried back to his chambers. Soon, Avras would have all new rulers. Ambassador Tichaerion might well be considered for an elevation in status in such tumultuous times…


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      Ecaerhys Moonstrider

      A Prince of a younger generation of Black Sun nobles, Ecaerhys has been taught the importance of his position from a young age. His family, commoners by birth, were elevated to princedom during the wars that birthed the independence of the city-state of Angraith.

      Ecaerhys has devoted his life to serve as an example. He endured the rigours of military training, urging on his fellows through most dour of moments, earning valuable lessons in leadership early on in his service. Noble blood wasn’t exactly a hindrance, but he rose in rank due true merit, and went on to serve as a Captain for several years of campaigning at sea.

      A path was laid before him to gain command of an army, but he chose a different fate. At port after a successful foray into a kraken’s lair to procure eggs for the menagerie, he was met by Prince Thaul Ravenhart, High Beastmaster of the Black Sun.

      Together, they walked the underground maze of pens and enclosures, Ecaerhys awing at the sight of the various wonders of the natural world Thaul’s beastmasters kept and trained for service.

      There at last, at the great lairs high on the side of mount Agathys where a seemingly endless spiral stairwell had led him, Ecaerhys first saw a grown dragon up close. It was a deep green beast, regarding the princeling with amber eyes, glowing with intellect, and Ecaerhys was mesmerized.

      Without word or warning he reached out his hand, and stepped forth through the bars the size of an elf’s leg, and touched the jaw of the majestic creature. Thaul tensed at the sight, but noticed the beast’s breaths came steadily and relaxed, so did nothing to intervene. There was nothing he could do at this point if the dragon would choose to harm the young man.

      The serpent let out a deep growl, baring its teeth. Eacerhys withdrew his hand but stared up unflinching into those hypnotic eyes. The moment stretched agonizingly.

      Then, the dragon lowered its head to Ecaerhys’ feet, closing its eyes and growling softly. The young prince stroked the scales above the creature’s eye as it drifted off into a deep sleep. Thaul gasped, astonished, as he noticed the beast’s enormous chest heaving slowly as it rested aside this stranger.

      Thaul was decided. He would train the boy. One day, this one shall ride the skies at the Sovereign’s side.

      Years passed, and Ecaerhys and the dragon Gaurdagnir became inseparable. They lent their loyalties to this general and that, flying where the Sovereign deemed most necessary. Ecaerhys felt fulfilled like never before.

      The strive to excel had been heaped upon him by expectation of others. Sure, he enjoyed prestige few could dream of as one of only a handful of dragon riders in the Black Sun ranks, but would never gain the political leverage he would wield as an Exarch, a prince general.

      For the first time in his life, he was content. He had a purpose.

      And sure enough, a need of him arose once again as he was summoned to the offices of the High Librarian, one of the most accomplished generals of the Black Sun known as the Blackfire Princess. Rumor had it, the Corsair Seeress was planning something big…

      The scales on Gaurdagnir’s neck were cold to the touch from the ocean spray. He loved flying close to the water, skimming the tips of his wings in the surf.

      Some ways ahead Ecaerhys could make out the tall masts of Ashaziel’s fleet. Two battle ships and five frigates were escorting a huge cargo ship towards the south. It would be satisfying to see it swim deeper on the way back, laden with treasure and slaves.

      Ecaerhys urged Gaurdagnir higher, banking towards the flag ship ‘Eternity’. The golden coronas of the Black Sun glittered in the bright noon’s light, and the calls of the sailors on the ropes carried over the water.

      Gaurdagnir landed gracefully upon the aft tower, barely making sound save the wooden hull’s groan under his massive bulk. He breathed deep the salty, fresh air, the fish in his stomach weighing on his eye lids. He curled up almost like a cat as Ecaerhys dismounted, giving him a slap on the shoulder as he made his way to the captain’s cabin.

      Princess Ashaziel was, as usual, buried behind the piles of scrolls and tomes on her desk. Ecaerhys gave a bow as she raised her gaze upon him.

      Prince Ecaerhys. How is the voyage treating your companion?” Ecaerhys smiled. “He loves the ocean, my Lady. If it were up to him I think we would do naught by fish and swim.”

      “Good”, Ashaziel commented, “We need him fit and ready for the trials ahead”. Ecaerhys nodded. “We make landfall in four days time?” Ashaziel confirmed, “Should the winds not fail us”. She continued, “We must find the Sonnstahlian generals as soon as possible, there are important details to iron out before any fighting gets done”.

      “We shall scout ahead, get the lay of the land ere the fleet arrives. If things have gone favourably the camps should not be hard to find.”

      Ashaziel nodded in agreement, lowering her eyes back to the page in front of her. “Enjoy the sea air while you can, Prince.” She smiled knowingly as Ecaerhys left the cabin with a bow.


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      Thalyn Lightbane

      As a free citizen of Angraith, it is expected of every to strive for excellence. Whatever craft they might pursue, they owe it to state and Sovereign to be the best they can be. For Thalyn, this meant service in the military.

      More than personal combat, Thalyn was ever intrigued by tactics and stratagems. He studied diligently in the Academy of War the many ways formations and maneuvres could turn the odds, even under dire circumstances, to the advantage of the astute and the disciplined.

      His build was far from impressive, a lithe, almost gangly youth, so of the many weapons he drilled with the spear and especially the halberd seemed a natural fit. Granting him reach and leverage, the polearms gave him room for thought in the thick of the drills.

      He trained rigorously to secure a place among the esteemed Immortals of the Undying Night, and went on to an exemplary service among them. Formation fighting suited his body well, and his interest in strategy soon led to commanding positions within the elite and eventually, a Captain’s post in a raiding fleet.

      Thalyn serves under Princess Ashaziel Hellspeaker, a kindred spirit in eagerness for more knowledge. Thalyn carries the Black Sun battle standard, styled with the Corsair Seeress’s personal sigil of twin serpents devouring eachother by the tail.

      Through countless conversations in Ashaziel’s cabins on dozens of voyages, it was discovered that Thalyn himself had the talent for magic. Having little interest in starting his career anew, he received some tutoring from the Blackfire Princess herself and learned a relatively simple illusion to create a shadowy mirage of rippling air around himself to make a hard target of him for snipers. With an enchanted ring gifted by the princess, he is now able to magnify the glamour to protect his troops in battle.

      The wine house was packed. Sailors, merchants, soldiers, all sorts came to the ‘House of Cups’ in the harbor, because often the imported wines from faraway lands first found their way here.

      Thalyn frequented the place for its location. As the captain of the ‘Wolf’s Tongue’ he was often needed in the port offices when on land. His wife and daughter lived further inland near the markets, but things were tense back home because of the endless campaigns that were eating up Thalyn’s time.

      Thalyn was lost in thought, swirling the last sip of a sonnstahlian gold around in his goblet. A slam of a burly fist against his table startled him and his hand shot straight for the hilt of the cutlass at his hip.

      “How’s life, you salty old cod?”, a widely grinning elf of impressive dimensions was inquiring of him as a stool groaned painfully under his weight. Thalyn smiled, relaxing. “You gave me quite the fright, you big bastard”, he replied. “I’m casting off with the first light. How goes your slaving, Acrael?”

      The big elf’s smile was crooked thanks to a scar on his chin. “Good, so long as you and your princess keep bringing in the merchandise”, Acrael said mirthfully, swallowing eagerly from the goblet in his fist. “I hear this haul is going to be a big one?”

      Thalyn shrugged, “bigger then in a while, should we survive it. We are headed into an actual war this time” Acrael raised an eyebrow. Thalyn smirked devilishly. “Avras, my friend.”

      Acrael rubbed his scarred chin a good while. “So the rumors are true, it’s happening?” Thalyn nodded, serious now. “Dathen is with us. The Seeress has pulled some major strings. From what I’ve heard, it’s getting bloody down there.”

      The slave trader raised his cup. “Blood and Iron!”, he toasted. Thalyn joined the toast, “Salt and Tears!”




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      "You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?" -Death
      Phae's Pointy-Ear Blog: Elves in a Corner

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