Post by Drakira on Apr 2, 2019 20:36:08 GMT
Name: Senthoi Sarathai
Age: Around 240
Place of Birth: The Shadowlands
Profession: Shadow Warrior
Family: None
Senthoi was born sometime during the reign of Finubar the Seafarer in the riven gullies of south east Nagarythe. Both her mother and father fought with the skirmish fighters known as the Shadow Warriors, and Senthoi was no different. As a child she was taught the use of the bow and sword, and other skills such as tracking, trapping, and surviving the dangerous lands that she called home. As she grew, she became as merciless as the Shadowlands themselves; harrying and slaying any Dark Elf raiders that she and her nomadic elves came upon, in fierce and swift surprise attacks. The cruelty of the Dark Elves was matched in turn, and Senthoi became indifferent to the efficient vengeance and tactics of fear used by her people. The battle to keep their traitor kin from their shores seemed endless, and none sacrificed more to keep Ulthuan safe than the people of Nagarythe; efforts largely ignored or criticised by the gentler elves of the Inner Kingdoms.
Dark elf corsairs frequently landed along the shores of the Shadowlands taking captives or issuing slaughter to their delight. After one such raid, Senthoi’s mother was captured, around the time Senthoi was coming of age. She has not seen her since, and can only wish that she had been slain as the thought of what other fate might have befallen her is just too much to bear. Life continued, and Senthoi settled in as a dedicated Shadow Warrior, fighting in a small band that included her father. They earned great success with their skirmishes, melting into the shadows after each strike long before their foes realised what was going on. They soon attracted the direct attention of the enemy, and a trap was set.
The Shadow Warriors had been drawn to the north of their kingdom, where corsairs had captured more of their kin. Locked in cages, the sobs were pitiful as the corsairs prodded and jeered at their prizes. The Asur waited until the grey of dawn, and as an early morning mist sat thickly about the camp, they took their opportunity to strike. Setting upon the corsairs, they soon overpowered the guard bearing a set of keys, and worked swiftly to unlock the cages to free their kin. Unbeknown to the Shadow Warriors, the Dark Elves too had made the most of the poor visibility, and had surrounded the camp with shades armed with crossbows, and heavily armoured spearmen. It seemed the morning mist had been summoned by the enemy and used to their advantage. The prisoners too were not what they seemed. The Shadow Warriors only realised what was going on when one of the rescued elf maidens plunged a wicked looking knife into the chest of one of their rescuers, laughing cruelly at the questioning look upon her victims face. These were no innocents, they were treacherous devotees of the elven god of murder, Khaine.
The Shadow Warriors fought fiercely but were overpowered, and found themselves in the place of those deceitful elves that they had come to free. In turn, each was dragged out of their cage and offered up to Khaine for the victory that was won. Senthoi forced herself to watch as her own father was flayed. Even today, she holds that moment to drive her vengeance to motivate her against all odds.
When it was her turn to meet the Bloody Handed God, Senthoi defiantly held her head up as she was led to the altar. Spitting in the face of the Khainite priest, she braced herself for the cut of the knife as she was shoved onto the cold stone. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she waited for the ritual dagger to come down.
But it did not. The Dark Elves were thrown into chaos as a shining host of Asur charged upon them; a vision of white horses and Ithilmar. Cut loose from her bonds, she was handed a knife, and she joined the slaughter as their foes were hacked down. The cauldron of blood was tipped on its edge, and Senthoi watched as the life blood of her slain kin soaked into the soil of Nagarythe with a hiss. As her murdered companions were gathered up, she fell to her knees and wept.
It was then that she met Prince General Taerinioth of Yvresse. Lifting her chin to tilt her head up, he gently helped her to her feet and led her away with the other survivors as the dead Asur were prepared for their funeral pyres; the Dark Elves were slaughtered to the last, then thrown into a pit and left for the wild beasts to find. Senthoi fell in with Taerinioth’s host, and as she recovered, learned to put aside her hate and anger for the greater good of the defence of Ulthuan. She spent the next five years fighting with the host known as The Silver Dawn, and bonded with kin gathered from all around the Elven continent. Rising through the ranks, she became second-in-command.
The day came when Taerinioth announced that he had been called to Lothern to attend a war council, and asked Senthoi to take care of the host in his absence. After two weeks, he had been expected to return. As the months passed, scouts were sent to search for him, and the realisation soon sank in that he was not coming back. With heavy heart, Senthoi continued to command the Host. It was not a role that she had ever desired, nor felt worthy of as a lowly Shadow Warrior. But without one to lead them, the Host was doomed.
Years passed and Senthoi made many allies and enemies in the fight for the Old World. The Host travelled to the lands of Men and Dwarves to help against the invasion from the north, or wherever else their aid was required. The final battle of the Silver Dawn came in the ruined City of Praag. The powers of Chaos were too much for even the greatest of Elven mages to counter, and as the clamour of the fight ended, Senthoi found that she alone stood where before so many had done so.
The loss and sense of failure was too much for her to bear, and she faded back to the Shadowlands to a solitary life in the wilds of the Annuli mountains. Occasionally she would venture further afield, into Ellyrion, the north eastern shores overlooking the Blighted Isle, or further afield into Avelorn and Saphery. But always alone would she remain. To be with her was a curse; the only way to avoid damning her kin was to keep away from them.
Finally it was an old friend who drew her out of her solitude. Giladar, who she had acquainted in less harrowing days before her father’s death, had returned from training at the White Tower of Hoeth and urged her to put her skills to use in the fight against the threat that Ulthuan faced again. Greater than ever, the foes were pressing the resources of the Elven forces, and there was no point languishing in the mountains when she could direct her vengeance once more. Torn by a sense of guilt and grief, and a fear that she would not be able to contain her feral Nagarythi nature as she had done before, Senthoi reluctantly agreed, once a summons had been sent to her by Prince Felen Swiftshot.
And so she finds herself with The Eternal Host, struggling to allow herself to push aside the fear of losing those she loves as she lays the daemons of her past to rest. Courage in battle comes easy to her. Courage to let anyone get close to her is something that she is yet to master.
Age: Around 240
Place of Birth: The Shadowlands
Profession: Shadow Warrior
Family: None
Senthoi was born sometime during the reign of Finubar the Seafarer in the riven gullies of south east Nagarythe. Both her mother and father fought with the skirmish fighters known as the Shadow Warriors, and Senthoi was no different. As a child she was taught the use of the bow and sword, and other skills such as tracking, trapping, and surviving the dangerous lands that she called home. As she grew, she became as merciless as the Shadowlands themselves; harrying and slaying any Dark Elf raiders that she and her nomadic elves came upon, in fierce and swift surprise attacks. The cruelty of the Dark Elves was matched in turn, and Senthoi became indifferent to the efficient vengeance and tactics of fear used by her people. The battle to keep their traitor kin from their shores seemed endless, and none sacrificed more to keep Ulthuan safe than the people of Nagarythe; efforts largely ignored or criticised by the gentler elves of the Inner Kingdoms.
Dark elf corsairs frequently landed along the shores of the Shadowlands taking captives or issuing slaughter to their delight. After one such raid, Senthoi’s mother was captured, around the time Senthoi was coming of age. She has not seen her since, and can only wish that she had been slain as the thought of what other fate might have befallen her is just too much to bear. Life continued, and Senthoi settled in as a dedicated Shadow Warrior, fighting in a small band that included her father. They earned great success with their skirmishes, melting into the shadows after each strike long before their foes realised what was going on. They soon attracted the direct attention of the enemy, and a trap was set.
The Shadow Warriors had been drawn to the north of their kingdom, where corsairs had captured more of their kin. Locked in cages, the sobs were pitiful as the corsairs prodded and jeered at their prizes. The Asur waited until the grey of dawn, and as an early morning mist sat thickly about the camp, they took their opportunity to strike. Setting upon the corsairs, they soon overpowered the guard bearing a set of keys, and worked swiftly to unlock the cages to free their kin. Unbeknown to the Shadow Warriors, the Dark Elves too had made the most of the poor visibility, and had surrounded the camp with shades armed with crossbows, and heavily armoured spearmen. It seemed the morning mist had been summoned by the enemy and used to their advantage. The prisoners too were not what they seemed. The Shadow Warriors only realised what was going on when one of the rescued elf maidens plunged a wicked looking knife into the chest of one of their rescuers, laughing cruelly at the questioning look upon her victims face. These were no innocents, they were treacherous devotees of the elven god of murder, Khaine.
The Shadow Warriors fought fiercely but were overpowered, and found themselves in the place of those deceitful elves that they had come to free. In turn, each was dragged out of their cage and offered up to Khaine for the victory that was won. Senthoi forced herself to watch as her own father was flayed. Even today, she holds that moment to drive her vengeance to motivate her against all odds.
When it was her turn to meet the Bloody Handed God, Senthoi defiantly held her head up as she was led to the altar. Spitting in the face of the Khainite priest, she braced herself for the cut of the knife as she was shoved onto the cold stone. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she waited for the ritual dagger to come down.
But it did not. The Dark Elves were thrown into chaos as a shining host of Asur charged upon them; a vision of white horses and Ithilmar. Cut loose from her bonds, she was handed a knife, and she joined the slaughter as their foes were hacked down. The cauldron of blood was tipped on its edge, and Senthoi watched as the life blood of her slain kin soaked into the soil of Nagarythe with a hiss. As her murdered companions were gathered up, she fell to her knees and wept.
It was then that she met Prince General Taerinioth of Yvresse. Lifting her chin to tilt her head up, he gently helped her to her feet and led her away with the other survivors as the dead Asur were prepared for their funeral pyres; the Dark Elves were slaughtered to the last, then thrown into a pit and left for the wild beasts to find. Senthoi fell in with Taerinioth’s host, and as she recovered, learned to put aside her hate and anger for the greater good of the defence of Ulthuan. She spent the next five years fighting with the host known as The Silver Dawn, and bonded with kin gathered from all around the Elven continent. Rising through the ranks, she became second-in-command.
The day came when Taerinioth announced that he had been called to Lothern to attend a war council, and asked Senthoi to take care of the host in his absence. After two weeks, he had been expected to return. As the months passed, scouts were sent to search for him, and the realisation soon sank in that he was not coming back. With heavy heart, Senthoi continued to command the Host. It was not a role that she had ever desired, nor felt worthy of as a lowly Shadow Warrior. But without one to lead them, the Host was doomed.
Years passed and Senthoi made many allies and enemies in the fight for the Old World. The Host travelled to the lands of Men and Dwarves to help against the invasion from the north, or wherever else their aid was required. The final battle of the Silver Dawn came in the ruined City of Praag. The powers of Chaos were too much for even the greatest of Elven mages to counter, and as the clamour of the fight ended, Senthoi found that she alone stood where before so many had done so.
The loss and sense of failure was too much for her to bear, and she faded back to the Shadowlands to a solitary life in the wilds of the Annuli mountains. Occasionally she would venture further afield, into Ellyrion, the north eastern shores overlooking the Blighted Isle, or further afield into Avelorn and Saphery. But always alone would she remain. To be with her was a curse; the only way to avoid damning her kin was to keep away from them.
Finally it was an old friend who drew her out of her solitude. Giladar, who she had acquainted in less harrowing days before her father’s death, had returned from training at the White Tower of Hoeth and urged her to put her skills to use in the fight against the threat that Ulthuan faced again. Greater than ever, the foes were pressing the resources of the Elven forces, and there was no point languishing in the mountains when she could direct her vengeance once more. Torn by a sense of guilt and grief, and a fear that she would not be able to contain her feral Nagarythi nature as she had done before, Senthoi reluctantly agreed, once a summons had been sent to her by Prince Felen Swiftshot.
And so she finds herself with The Eternal Host, struggling to allow herself to push aside the fear of losing those she loves as she lays the daemons of her past to rest. Courage in battle comes easy to her. Courage to let anyone get close to her is something that she is yet to master.