Objective: The Altar of Khaine

Objective: House of Lorendyth

Objective: The Tower of Nightflame

Objective: Shard of Grief

previous chapter is: Sisters in Arms

next chapter is: The Stone of Imrahir

Chapter Lore: A haunting melody danced through the warcamp, forming a harsh juxtaposition with the echoes of battle that rolled in from the far reaches of the Plain of Bone.

The lilting notes that filled the air bespoke a tale of unbearable loss. Initially harmonious and beautiful, the notes now began to rise and fall with fury as the musician's playing took on a more frenetic pace and a darker tone.

An aide walked briskly toward the source of the melancholy tune. The music built to a crescendo as it flowed from deep within the ornate tent of Riandys Arrowlore. Nervously, the young High Elf peeled back the tent flap and stepped inside as quietly as possible. He had no desire to disturb the tent's lone occupant. When engaged with his music, the Elven leader gave himself fully to the song and the instrument.

Arrowlore was under a great deal of pressure now that the exiles walked once more on the shores of Ulthuan and he needed this all-too-brief respite from the burdens of leadership. His aide realized this and let Riandys play on. His ill news could wait a few moments more.

The song reached its coda as Riandys bowed furiously. In between the notes, the aide could hear the pain of betrayal, followed by violent upheaval, and finally a slow but steady sense of aching loss. The song ended, and Riandys Arrowlore took a moment to compose himself. Clearly, whatever emotion he had aroused with the song remained at the forefront of his mind, and it would not do for the leader of the Elves at Tor Arendis to show such a lack of restraint.

Brusquely, he wiped away a single tear and carefully put away his instrument, using the simple routine to bring himself back to the present.

Finally, Arrowlore seemed fully in the present and he spoke to the aide. "What news have you, Dennil?"

"My Lord, the invaders continue to move toward the Altar of Khaine." Dennil paused a moment, still feeling some vestige of emotion, himself. "Our defenses hold, for now. How long they will remain standing in the face of a full assault is uncertain."

Riandys Arrowlore clicked his tongue in assent, "Divert some of the defenders from the Shard of Grief. The remains of the Hall of Halyndell can be defended by the newer members of the Shining Guard, as well as our allies. We must not let the Sword of Khaine pass into the enemy's hands."

"It shall be done, my Lord," and with that, Dennil saluted smartly and stepped out of the tent.