A high elf swordmaster who is better than you...


“Your goal lies beyond me, and I am beyond you. There is no shame in this, we are what we are. You will leave now, choose if you will do so whole or in pieces.”

A lone Sword Master on a mission to extinguish evil at its source…. the realms of man and the other young races. (Your NAME HERE) was touched by the gods with a mission to help stamp out the creatures of Chaos in the realms of the Old World, lest they reach mighty Ulthuan’s shores. He does so under the guidance of the White Towers emissaries in the Old World, the same mages that gave the gift of magic to mortal men.

(YOUR NAME HERE) isn’t as outwardly pompous or arrogant as my High Elves appear to be, for he has no need to be so. A Sword Masters presence exudes command and purpose. In line with the mythic training his skills hail from, should the need to prove himself or make his opinion felt arise, he will do so with all the might and will bestowed upon him by the White Tower.


As with all the children of Asur (YOUR NAME HERE) was trained in the arts of war from the earliest of years. Having risen through the ranks of archers during the two hundred years of mandatory training, he then began his trek down the road of the spear. Whilst away on a campaign to aid the Empire off island, (YOUR NAME HERE)’s mother & younger siblings were abducted by the cults of Slaanesh and sacrificed to the vial Chaos entity before the Sword Masters were able to locate the covens activities. The coven was then routed out and destroyed, but to late to save (YOUR NAME HERE)’s kin. Upon returning successfully from the foreign campaign, (YOUR NAME HERE) was confronted with this horrible news of what had befallen his family.

Disgusted that any of his kin could sink so low, he journeyed to the White Tower spear in hand, drove it into the ground and knelt before the tower. There he stayed until the gates flung open, seemingly of their own volition, and a retinue of Sword Masters sallied forth to meet him. The mages of Saphery miss little in the world, and had foretold of his coming to the fames warriors before he had yet set foot back on Ulthuan. They saw in his heart and mind, not the vengeance that clouded the minds of their dark kin which ultimately caused the death of his family, but rather a sense of duty born from his lose. They also saw that he would be marked ultimately for a different path which would require their tutelage.

Expecting his arrival, the Sword Masters took him in, and bid him leave his spear in the dirt, for he would no longer require such a feeble weapon. For many centuries (YOUR NAME HERE) trained in the arts of Hoeth and learned of not only the arts of war, but the inner mysteries of magic inherent to his race. He finally became a full-fledged Sword Master and was presented with the sword which had been forged for him many centuries ago when the mage first foretold his coming. Imbued with the magics of the tower, the swords of Hoeth are prized as some of the most potent weapons of Ulthuan, and there for, the world.

(YOUR NAME HERE) spent much time in the service of the Sword Masters, hunting down and routing out cultists wherever they be found, at home and abroad. One day his company’s captain was approached by the Mages with an offer to serve abroad. One of the Nameless Phoenix Lords of Asuryians shrine had issued a holy call to rid the world of some vial chaos artifact, thought lost in the old world. Hidden by the incompetent dwarves the item had resurfaced and if allowed to fall into the hands of the Dark Powers, it would wrought untold carnage upon the innocent of the Old World before its evil was exhausted. Several company’s of Sword Masters and Mages of Saphery answered the call and departed at once to Lothern to sail.

The campaign was long and bloody, but where ever the elves found the taint of evil seeking the artifact, the extinguished it with holy fire and superior steel. The fates are fickle however, and by chance a hated Druchii lord happened upon the artifacts whereabouts while on an inland raid to farm Dwarf slaves. The High Elves could no more allow the Dark Ones to continue their efforts than they could stop the sun from rising. They fell upon their Dark Kin and in the bloody battle that ensued, (YOUR NAME HERE)’s company was at the forefront of the fighting, eager to come to grips with the Druchii on open ground. The Nameless one and a Druchii sorceress where locked in a deadly duel, and a magical blast from her evil arts opened a rift in space and time, and much of (YOUR NAME HERE)’s company was sucked into the void never to be seen again.

By some fluke of the gods, (YOUR NAME HERE) was transported not to his death in the void, but rather thrown to another part of the Empire, far from his force and comrades. He would later discover that he had also been thrown forward in time, and as such, his comrades had already completed their quest and had long since returned to Ulthuan. Along in the forest with nothing but his sword (YOUR NAME HERE) had a vision that his fate was no longer soley intwined with that of his brethren, but rather that his sword could be of great use here at the source of the evil of Chaos, and so he made a pact and vowed to stay in the Old World until the Four powers of Chaos where no more, never to return to Ulthuan without dire need. His gods where not the only ones that heard his words of defiance in the face of the Dark ones, and so the powers sought to leave him broken in the woods where he prayed, sending their own vile minions to speed him from this world.……


Erengrad -- A Warhammer Fantasy Campaign Rictor