Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

Have a story, then you come here.

Moderators: The Heralds, The Loremasters

Post Reply
Message
Author
Erion Starscream
Posts: 54
Joined: Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:43 pm

Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#1 Post by Erion Starscream »

Ok so now that 8th edition is out I have finally decided to start my own little army fluff section. It is really difficult to choose one place from which to hail from so I circomvented that problem by creating an entire house like Emeraldsea in the books written by William King. Mine is called Sunsorrow and here are the earlier stories about them... I would really like your thoughts on this since the first two chapters sets sort of the tone for the house in the future so you just some pointers and thoughts would be appreciated.

Part 1 The White pages

Chapter 1. The Ashmaker

These are the secret chronicles of the Sunsorrow house.

The house is very old, old enough that the members can trace their lineage back to the time of Aenarion first of the Phoenix Kings.

From the time before the first Phoenix King little is known about the Sunsorrow house save for the fact that during those times the house was called Sunstorm.

When the cataclysm engulfed the world in flames and the daemons flooded out from the polar gates the Sunstorms rose to fight them. Thousands perished and all seemed lost, then like the phoenix the great hero Aenarion ascended from out the flames and with him the elven heroes stepped out into a new light to smash the daemons asunder. The Sunstorms did nothing less than other brave heroes and heroines of elfkind.

The story of the Sunstorm house begins with Turraniel and his wife Eruriel for they lived in the desperate times during the cataclysm when the world burned. They lived in Tor Avalu one of the cities in Tiranoc.

Turraniel fought like an enraged lion but every day he returned he was forced to give news of more fallen brave heroes. His wife saw that it tore him apart to every day tell others how their loved ones had died. How it slowly hollowed Turraniel out.

Eruriel in her wisdom saw the elves desperate need and wept tears of never-ending sorrow. However she was no mere helpless maid so she ventured to the dragon spine and there deep in the volcanic mountains she sought out a spark created by Addaioth the bringer of fire.

Day and night she worked to bend the destructive power of this Cytharai deity into a greatsword. For twelve days and twelve nights she worked without rest amidst the lava flow and the spewing fire after which she emerged with the burning sword.

Nonetheless the Cytharai are destructive gods and does not give without reason. Addaioth is no different and the sword was both a gift and a curse for it could not recognize and differ friend from foe and when Aenarion and the elven heroes beat back the first wave of daemons and the elves stood in the eye of the storm the terrible truth of the Ashmaker unfolded, flames spread wherever it were burning towns and forests to the ground.

So Turraniel took the sword his wife had built and laid it in a pond. In mere hours the flames had turned the little pond to steam. Therefore Turraniel ventured to a nearby lake and threw the sword in; again it took only a short while until the blade had turned the lake to water vapor. Turraniel then made his way to the ocean and hurled the sword in to rest with the fishes. Only days had passed before the depths in which the sword rested spat it back out to Tor Avalu and half the city was destroyed by a raging fire.

So when Eruriel found the Ashmaker, so great was Eruriel’s love for elf kind that she sacrificed her own pure spirit and bound her soul to the sword so as to temper the spark of the bringer of fire. The Ashmaker’s thirst for destruction was quenched by the weeping tear of the goddess Isha for she shared Eruriels love for all elves.

Heartstruck by the loss of his wife Turraniel swore terrible vengeance upon all daemons for they were in truth the cause of his loss and grief.

Soon enough the daemons came again and Turraniel went forth with Aenarion and brought great vengeance upon the invaders. Turraniel fought like a mad dragon protecting the ritual of great Caledor Dragontamer. There Turraniel slaughtered seas of daemons with the blade his wife had forged with her very soul.

Like many others’ Turraniel suffered a fatal wound yet still he fought to the bitter end. For when the storm calmed the brave elf lay on the battlefield bleeding out. In his last moments in the image of fire Turraniel saw his beloved wife once more and with tears of joy Turraniel prayed to Isha that his soul be allowed to spend eternity with its counterpoint.

With his last breath his soul ventured to the embrace of his wife within the sword. Marked by two fist sized orbs of fire circling the blade Turraniel and Eruriel remained together. So was born the Ashmaker.

Chapter 2. Sorrow begins


The fate of Eruriel and Turraniel was not the cause for the Storm to become the Sorrow. For that came next. Eruriel and Turraniel had three children, two boys and one daughter. The eldest daughter named Raina and her two younger twin brothers Aranton and Arancon. Raina was far older then her two siblings and with their parents dead Raina became her younger brothers’ new guardian and like all children the boys vied and competed for their parents affection.

Eventually the twins’ adventurous souls led them out in the world through separate routes. Aranton sailed west while Arancon sailed east every month Raina received a letter from both brothers telling tales of bravery and their respective exploits.

After years Aranton returned from his travels in the west weary of his ways and deeply in love with a beautiful maid. Low of stature but as beautiful as the stars she was quickly accepted amidst her new family.

Yet much had changed in the time Aranton had been away, for Tor Avalu had sunken into decadence. Darkness and cruelty festered within court twisting the good ideals of all elves. Seeing no other choice Aranton wrote to his brother to hurry home.

Arancon had changed much in his travels just like his brother though some said not for the better. He was scarred and grim having survived a long siege in one of the colonial citadels. Arancon had endured severe torture and had lost an eye in battle, which is not to overshadow his achievements for he had done many great things. Unlike his brother Arancon preferred solitude, but when he received his brother’s letter he followed his feet home.

To Arancon Tor Avalu seemed fine at first glance, but soon enough he heard the rumors of unnatural sacrifices. When Aranton came back home he found a city preparing for a wedding feast between the twins older sister Raina and Baragaddon of Nagarythe whom as a wedding present was granted the great honor of wielding the Ashmaker the greatsword of Turraniel and Eruriel. Jealousy spread like wild fire on the twin brothers’ faces but they knew their place and kept silent. However a wise man once said that for evil to grow the only thing required is for good elves to do nothing. So while the twins’ remained silent the cults of excess grew in power and soon enough Baragaddon and Raina were both devout followers.

It was a bleak day when grief struck, Aranton’s wife and their son named after their uncle Arancon disappeared and the evidence pointed at Arancon. Angry beyond comprehension Aranton armed himself with a poisoned dagger for he knew he could not best his brother in any other manner. While his brother slept he struck, Aranton attack ferociously and demanded to know where his wife and son were in exchange for the antidote.

However contradictory to belief Arancon were innocent yet Aranton refused to yield and listen to his brother so they started to wrestle and in the tumble they fell out the window. Arancons room was located on the top room of the highest spire in Tor Avalu and from the window there was a long way down.

With one hand holding the curtain and one with a firm grip on his brother’s wrist Arancon refused to let go. As Arancon clung on to life, two familiar figures appeared glooming above their heads. Raina and her accursed husband stood there gloating as they revealed their plot how they had kidnapped Arantons family how they had coated Arantons dagger with a lethal poison. In exchange for a child of their own they had sacrificed Arantons’ wife and they still held the infant boy.

When they were finished basking, the sword of their deceased parents lit the curtain to which Arancon hanged. Legend has it that the sword wept tears of flame when the twins plummeted to their death. Such was the brothers’ love for one another that they brawled to be the one bearing the brunt of the final blow. Aranton won breaking his brothers’ fall with his own body, with his final breath he asked his brother for three things. Vengeance for his wife, protection for his son and forgiveness for himself, so disheartened and grief struck Arancon carried his brother’s body out of the city. There he performed the burial rights he felt his brother deserved and vowed to fulfill his Aranton last wishes.

Soon enough however the poison took affect and upon the plains Arancon collapsed under the effects of the poison. No one truly knows for how long he lay in the mud in the plains of Avalu and no one truly knows what allowed him to finally rise up from his grave but when he rose as if by miracle, Ulthuan stood in flames and civil war raged across the land and the so-called hero Malekith had turned on his own people.

Arancon could not believe it for he had fought alongside the witch king many times. So Arancon ventured to this usurpers encampment and there he demanded justice for the witch king protected his sister Raina. That said Malekith did not respond well to demands from those he considered to be his subjects. So during the nights assassins attempted to silence this elf. Arancon however was a veteran and defeated these untrained henchmen easily. For in those days assassins had not spent a life time perfecting their murderous arts.

Then Arancon knew that Malekith had truly spiraled down in decadence. From there on forth he was no longer the heroic son of Aenarion first of the Phoenix Kings from henceforth he was accursed and no longer worthy to be called Asur. When Arancon spoke the name he spat and emptiness welled forth. The accursed one harbored Raina and Baragaddon that enough was cause for Arancon to call him his enemy, so he made his way to the opposing side.

Arancon fought for the true Asur and for Caledor I and all who met Arancon retold the same things though he fought bravely and commanded troops skillfully he was more melancholy than any other elf, he carried an aura of sadness about him. During the witch kings attempt to undo the vortex and the following battle Arancon finally saw the Sunstorm banners on the opposing side.

So he led his levies into the thick of the battle and cursed out a challenge to Baragaddon who cowered in fear behind his own troops. Others who wished to prove their worth to their liege lord stepped up to protect him, but it didn’t matter none of them had the experience Arancon had and soon enough he had carved out a bloody path to Baragaddon. He trampled down his brother-in-law with ease but he could not bear to slay his own kin with the sword of his parents. So he left it on the ground as he made his way towards his sister. Those who witnessed what happen speak of how Arancon screamed “I loved you!” as he ran his sister through.

In the aftermath of the battle he found that his accursed nephew Clarion had stolen away with the Ashmaker. Still though he had fulfilled two vows, he had avenged Arantons wife and he had forgiven Aranton now all he had to do was find the little child. For years he searched while he assisted the elves of Tiranoc and helped to rebuild and recover what was lost.

Arancon also spent years assisting with the construction of the Eagle gate. When Caledor the conqueror as he had been named gathered men about to retake the Blighted Isle, Arancon was among the first to answer the call, but he asked for leave when he heard a rumor of a place in the Annulii Mountains where the cultists had sacrificed one hundred elf nurslings for some nefarious ritual.

So with the permission and goodwill of the king Arancon travelled up in the mountains where he found a marked cave. Full of dread he entered knowing he might very well fail in his last vow. He walked towards an altar with a torch illuminating his path. Well at the altar he gazed down into a chasm which seemed like a bottomless pit.

Yet he swallowed and remained calm and climbed down a rocky ledge using a rope. When he reached the bottom he could hear an unnatural crack underneath his feet. He knew it all too well for it was the crack of bones and he looked down and saw the bones of death infants and he avoided throwing up.

He relit his torch and shouted if somebody was still there when all seemed lost a she-elf appeared in the feint light. She held one little girl in one of her hands and carried a boy in her other arm. Arancon burst into tears for their could be no mistake that the boy was Arantons’ little son and he ran to embrace him and to protect him, but when he came close a chill crawled down his spine for both the children were blinded their eyes carved out of their sockets and little Arancon was crippled and could not move his legs.

But it was the she-elf that made him quiver most for one could easily see she had not had her eyes torn out by a knife but rather had them clawed out by hands. She told him that the vision she saw had haunted her so badly that she had clawed out her own eyes, she told him that she had cared for these children surviving on rat meat and snow water that ran down the walls.

Arancon carried the two younglings up out of the chasm and then he returned for their guardian, but she only said “I cannot live with what has happened here now that the children lives, I shall meet my own who was not so fortunate to survive, please my lord let me follow my husband and son to what lies beyond” never did Arancon forget the woman he gave his most priced dagger to that day, he only knew that she was happy when he had last seen her.

With his nephew brought back to him he returned to Tiranoc to raise them in relative peace but from then on the Storm that once was had become sorrow. So was born the name Sunsorrow little Arancon eventually grew fond of Tircistel the girl who had suffered as he had and they eventually married and had two children one boy and one girl whom they named Aranton after the boys late grandfather and Miiriel after the she-elf who had saved them in the caverns. The older Arancon watched over his family until he finally succumbed to the poison his sister had coated the dagger his brother had stabbed him with.


There you have it. The family story is divided in the White pages (Asur branch) Black pages (druchii branch) and the Green pages (Surprise Asrai branch)
Also please excuse my english I am not the greatest typer but I try. Uhm so after reading the notes I made a little edit. Hope that it got a little better.
Last edited by Erion Starscream on Fri May 31, 2013 1:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
sevcijim
Posts: 5
Joined: Tue May 21, 2013 10:45 pm

Re: Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#2 Post by sevcijim »

Sorry for the long quote, but I felt it was somewhat necessary.

Aside from simple spelling and grammar mistakes, the most pressing matter to deal with is the formatting.

As demonstrated for chapter one, many of those large blocks of text can be broken down into smaller paragraphs that well help grab the readers attention and improve the overall flow of your tale.

I read the first "block" and almost turned away from the upcoming wall of text, but I'm glad I did not as you have an interesting story to tell.

Don't take that for granted, as some readers will surely not give you that chance to redeem yourself.

All writing begets rewriting so fear not. Use this to your advantage to add more fluff and spice up those smaller paragraphs with interesting sensory details if you wish. This will only make the reader happier.
Erion Starscream
Posts: 54
Joined: Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:43 pm

Re: Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#3 Post by Erion Starscream »

Well hopefully, it got a little better since the edit. Bear in mind though that English is not my first language so I'm not sure the translation from swedish is very good. Also I am not the best writer in the world I prefer conveing things orally. Anyway I have been working on the white pages for some time now. They now contain a solid ten chapters of various members past and present of the Sunsorrow house. Story wise I think the first two are the most I don't wish to say deep but something in the similiar category. I had hoped for further critisism, not to say that that provided was not appreciated because it was and I did try to follow your example, I Hope it improved things. Right now though I am looking for some inspiration to make the less interesting chapters which I think is four six and seven. In the mean time I'll be posting the storys of the characters in the family that are not deceased which means when they are finished the next chapters I'll be posting will be 8 9 and 10. Since they are in development ideas, wishes, demands and pre release constructive critisism is more than welcome.

Well eh have a nice day or night depending on when you are reading this. Oh eh for those new to the story telling section I recommend you have looksy about there are several good stories about, I like The distrusted series and Headshots nagarythe stories are also very well written. Yet those are only two among many great ones so you know snoop around, it's worth it.

Catch ya later!
Erion Starscream
Posts: 54
Joined: Fri Jan 06, 2012 10:43 pm

Re: Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#4 Post by Erion Starscream »

Chapter 3. The Scholar

The story about the scholar is one truly befitting the Sunsorrow name and it is one told to all members of the house.

Prince Morhil was a scholar who preferred his books over anything else. He studied mathematics, physics, biology, foreign cultures, poetry and music. Morhil was a skilled swordsman but rarely practiced openly he preferred others to believe him to be a scholar only. Morhil spent most of his youth at the Everqueens court and he became one of her favorites, there was even talk of him taking up the mantle as her champion, but Morhil left such honor for those who had true soldiers blood, the blood of heroes.

Morhil was no hero, he was extremely competent as a warrior and a commander but he chose not to use his gifts in that regard. Instead he packed books and scrolls and travelled around the globe collecting more. Still when the Druchii once again attacked during the reign of Cardryel Morhil was called upon to fight and fought he did. Even Tethlis the slayer is said to have respected Morhils military council something rare for a Caledorian to do of an outsider.

Eventually Morhil decided to marry a young girl from Avelorn, one who was not all she seemed. For she was the daughter of Clarion the dread a spy sent to infiltrate and relay key military movements. Seeing an opportunity to eliminate much of the Asur high command in one stroke Clarion and his daughter whose name will not defile the white pages further with its presence plotted and schemed to assassinate them during the wedding feast were traditionally nobody bore arms.

During the wedding feast in the rebuilt Tor-Avalu she struck. While the elves celebrated shades and assassins encroached and circled around them. Many great elves had come to celebrate Morhils wedding and they were all killed. Morhil himself were the sole survivor of this wedding feast massacre, who is recorded in history as the black wedding.

So many of his friends had died because of his invitation, from that day forth something changed inside him, twisting his thoughts. The scholar prince returned to the battlefronts still this time he was changed. His only mission was to kill dark elves; he slaughtered them in droves looking for Clarion the dread.

Still were he once had cared for the life of every soldier under his command he now used them as pawns willing to sacrifice anything to get his kill, just like an addict needing his fix. He tortured prisoners and placed their heads on pikes. During the massacre at Tor Dranil Morhil captured hundreds of druchii had them tortured and then drowned after which he cut off every victims right ear and sent one single mutilated survivor back to the which king with seven sacks.

The scholar, who once abhorred war, became much feared among the generals Druchii and Asur alike for he was driven only by vengeance. Still Tethlis saw the advantages of having one such as Morhil in the high command for he was utterly ruthless and cared nothing for honor. He did things no other Asur would do, making him an invaluable political asset.

After the siege of Anlec Morhil was one of those looking hungrily towards the Widowmaker perhaps even more so than the phoenix king, which is also why Morhil was not among those sent to retake the Blighted Isle. Instead Morhil was ordered to prepare troops to sail north, even when Tethlis perished Morhil urged the princes to take the battle to the enemy but they refused, outraged Morhil rallied what support he could and sailed north himself.

With his small contingent of troops Morhil searched relentlessly for Clarion, but his druchii kin was not to be found. Still Morhil pushed further north slaying more and more until only the most vengeful shadow warriors remained with him. Eventually an army led by a Sorceress named Xarathi engaged him near Hotek’s column.

The bards say that the druchii outnumbered Morhil three to one but that the Asur fought with such bitter hatred that at the end of the day only one elf remained, Morhil Sunsorrow.

Unknowing about the trap that the Hag Sorceress Morathi had set to get rid of a political opponent and gain a new more formidable ally, during the battle Morhil was stabbed by a peculiar kind of poison. Wounded and disoriented Morhil wandered the battlefield for days perhaps weeks until he fell into the ground to die or so he thought.

When he woke up he was a prisoner in Naggarond. He was tortured severely and his own thoughts lost into a maze built by the wicked druchii, hearing the commands of the Hag Sorceress echoing in his head. Bound by the crown of fate a wicked circlet of dark magic Morhil no longer had a will of his own and turned against his own people bringing ruin to Ulthuan. From here on out the story of the Scholar continues in the black pages.

So that's chapter three, if anybody has anything constructive to add please do so. There is bound do be some editing it is a part of life. Also thoughts and ideas are also always welcome. I usually make a joke in the beginning or the end, but not to day I'm gonna leave with the serious tone of Morhils story.

//Sunsorrow chronicler
Glorfindain
Posts: 51
Joined: Wed Oct 30, 2013 1:14 am

Re: Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#5 Post by Glorfindain »

I like your stories so far. Your english seems fine to me. Keep up the good work!
User avatar
deecee
Posts: 143
Joined: Fri Oct 08, 2010 1:06 pm
Location: Victoria, Australia

Re: Yay Army fluff.... and Beyond

#6 Post by deecee »

sounds good so far.

Keep it going. Want to know if he finds his druchii kin
Post Reply