Tyrion

"Our beautiful land is besieged on all sides, but we resist the like our fathers did before us. We will emerge victorious and more intractable than ever to these turbulent times when our corrupt brothers come to ravage our shores. We are the Asur, the son of Aenarion and Ulthuan shall never fall."

- Prince Tyrion, Defender of Ulthuan



Prince Tyrion, Heir of Aenarion and the Defender of Ulthuan is the greatest living High Elven warrior of this age. So valiant and skilled is he that the bards of Ulthuan sing that he is nothing less then Aenarion reborn — a tale that is given credence far beyond Ulthuan's shores. Since Tyrion's meteoric rise to fame, many have whispered of his destiny to lead the High Elves towards a glorious future, and perhaps one day to take the Phoenix Crown. If Tyrion hears such gossip, he pays it no heed, for he is unswervingly loyal to Finubar. Thus does Tyrion concern himself only with the twin duties of protecting Ulthuan and its Everqueen, the beloved Alarielle.

Tyrion was the first commander at the glorious Battle of Finuval Plain, when he routed the host of the Witch King and slew the Witch King's personal champion, Urian Poisonblade. In that one battle, he made a name for himself that will echo through the ages, his name would be recorded in the Book of Days with honour.

His accolades reach further though, for without his quick thinking and the might of his sword arm, the Everqueen herself would have been slain, and all of Ulthuan would have been thrown into turmoil. Alone among all the courtiers of Avelorn, Tyrion was able to defend the spiritual leader of the High Elves, and whisk her away to safety. It is common knowledge now that Tyrion is the consort to Alarielle herself, and few are surprised. Time and again he has shown the strength of character and the implacable will that made his forefathers great. In the years since the Great Incursion, Tyrion has busied himself strengthening Ulthuan's armies and all know that whenever danger comes to the High Elves island home, the enemy will be met by Tyrion. He is the protector of the Everqueen and the defender of all Ulthuan.

History
"Asuryan did not save any of the warriors with you, or any of the priests guarding his shrine. He lent his power to you and your brother. I would respectfully submit that he most likely did it for his own reasons. Now you return from the blighted edges of the world carrying a blade that was forged by Caledor and borne by Aenarion himself. I can almost feel the forces of destiny lining up behind you."

- Korhein Ironglaive, former Captain of the White Lions

Tyrion, along with his brother Teclis, were born as twin sons to the scholarly Prince Arathion, a distant descendant to Phoenix King Aenarion himself. Ever since Princess Alysia, the twin's mother died during childbirth, much of their lives were spent within a secluded manor within Ulthuan's remote backcountry. His father, having spent most of his life and fortune trying to repair the ancient Armor of Aenarion, did little to teach or raise the boys himself. Instead, the elderly Thornberry put it upon herself to take care of the rash and energetic Tyrion, and the frail and sickly Teclis. This all changed the day the twins came of age and was required to be presented to the current Phoenix King.

With heavy hearts, their father, who never truly spent as much time as he would with his sons, nevertheless showed great sorrow in his eyes when he saw them go. With the aid of Lady Malene, their aunt and Korhien Ironglaive, a White Lion bodyguard, the twins were safely escorted towards the capital city of Lothern. From then on, Tyrion and Teclis grew to become powerful heroes of the Elven people.

The Dark Elven Wars
During the time of the Great War against Chaos, destiny touched the twins. From the north, the Dark Elves swept through Ulthuan looting, burning and pillaging. Allied with the servants of the four powers of Chaos they seemed unstoppable; the gigantic Black Arks of Naggaroth vomiting forth a wave of corruption onto the shores of the Elf lands. Ships of rune-woven red iron brought frenzied Chaos Warriors to Ulthuan and the Witch King of Naggaroth once more set foot on the land from where he'd so long ago been driven. Everywhere the unprepared Elves suffered defeat after defeat at the hands of their Chaos worshipping kin. In the lands of Men things went no better. The shattered Empire, long a cauldron of factional strife, could not stand against the tide of Chaos. It was a time of blood and darkness; the world was ending in death and despair.

Tyrion was in Avelorn at the court of Alarielle, the newly crowned Everqueen, when the Dark Elves came. The thunderous voices of their beasts filled the ancient woods. The shrill blast of their brazen trumpets echoed triumphantly through the heart of the land. Hurriedly, the Maiden Guard of the Queen moved to meet the threat to their lady. A hastily assembled force of warriors was thrown into battle but to no avail. The Dark Elves were too strong and it looked as if the Everqueen, the spiritual leader of Ulthuan, would fall into their clutches. In desperation, Tyrion pulled her from her silk pavilion and cut a bloody path clear of the massacre, slaying any Dark Elf that got in his way.

As they fled, Tyrion was stabbed by the blade of a Witch Elf, but disregarded his wound, and the two escaped into the heart of the ancient forests and disappeared. Word of the Everqueen's loss spread throughout the kingdoms and the hearts of the Elves were filled with despair. When the news of his brother's disappearance reached the White Tower, Teclis refused to believe his brother was dead. From birth, he and Tyrion had shared a special link and he was convinced that if Tyrion were dead he would know. He decided to leave the tower and seek him out. Using all his cunning, he forged himself a blade and wove it round with deadly enchantments. Seeing that Teclis could not he dissuaded, the High Loremaster gifted him with the War Crown of Saphery and let him go. He sensed destiny in the youth and knew that the fate of the Elven kingdoms rested on his shoulders. Teclis was stronger now, the potions of the Loremasters had gone a long way towards giving him mortal strength. The High Loremaster hoped it would be enough.

Tyrion and the Everqueen fled through a land laid waste by war. The old forests burned as the Dark Elves took vengeance for their long exile. An army of Ellyrian horsemen was destroyed in the field by the Witch King's sorcery. The Princes of Caledor strove unsuccessfully to wake the last dragons while the great navies of Lothern were driven from the seas by the Chaos fleets. A Dark Elven army re-took the Blighted Isle and the Altar of Khaine fell once more into their hands. Triumph followed triumph for the spawn of Naggaroth. Bitter defeat piled upon bitter defeat for the High Elves. The Dark Elves were filled with glee at the news of the loss of Alarielle, but the Witch King refused to believe the rumor of her death. He insisted that her body be found so he could display it crucified upon his standard. Four assassins stood before him and pledged to know no rest until they brought him her corpse. The Dark Elves sought the pair everywhere. Tyrion and the Everqueen often hid, blindly writhing through the loam to avoid the eyes of Dark Elf patrols. As the Witch Elf poison gripped him, Tyrion grew ever weaker and more feverish, but with her land disrupted the young Everqueen could not find the power to save him.

The High Elves were reduced to fighting a guerrilla war in their own land while the servants of Darkness reigned everywhere. But now a new rumor filled all ears. A sorcerer was abroad and no one could stand against him. He was a pale youth who wore the War Crown of Saphery. Where he walked, the Dark Elves trembled, for he commanded the powers of magic as if born to them. His words summoned lightning and cast down monsters and destroyed Chaos warriors with a word. The Slaaneshi Champion Alberecht Numan challenged him to battle, but he and all his followers were in an instant reduced to dust. He intervened at the Battle of Hathar Ford and slew Ferik Kasterman's Coven of Ten — the most feared Tzeentchian sorcerers of the day. These were small victories, but in those days of darkness they gave the High Elves some hope. Hope was what the folk of Ulthuan's many kingdoms desperately needed.

The claw of Chaos held the island-continent firmly in its grip. From Chrace in the north to Eatatine in the south, the Elf lands were overrun. Not even the waters of the Inner Sea were free of Dark Elven incursion. Ships were carved from the blighted forests with supernatural speed, and raiders moved as far as the Isle of the Dead before being turned back by the warding spells. Only in Saphery, around the White Tower, and by the walls of the mighty fortress city of Lothern were the Dark Elves halted, and even there things looked grim. Three Black Arks laid siege to the great lighthouse of Lothern, the Glittering Tower. By day and night spell blasts and siege engine shots bartered the walls. The Phoenix King himself was trapped within the city, and it seemed only a matter of time before the entire land was devoured. With the Everqueen lost, the Elves had little heart to fight on.

The Darkest Hour
In the forests of Avelom the hunt was closing in. The four assassins finally caught up with Tyrion and his charge, coming upon their camp by night. The wounded Elf Lord fought like a blood-mad wolf. Under the furious onslaught of his blade the Dark Elves died, but not before one unleashed a messenger familiar to carry word of their discovery to the Witch King. Howling with triumph the Lord of Naggaroth then sent forth his pride and joy, the Keeper of Secrets, N'Kari. With a roar, the Greater Daemon sped through the night to find its prey. The Daemon found Tyrion and the Everqueen in the dark hour before the dawn, descending upon them like a falling star from the firmament. Once, the Everqueen could easily have banished the Daemon, but her power was much reduced even as her land was ravaged. Tyrion reeled to his feet, determined to sell his life dearly. With a sweep of one mighty fist, the Daemon dashed the wounded warrior aside. Looming over the Everqueen it reached out to caress her cheek with its claw.

Lightning suddenly split the night and the Daemon was knocked back. A frail-looking figure emerged from the forest. On his head was the horned-moon helm of Saphery and he swiftly took up position between the queen and the Keeper of Secrets. With an angry bellow, the Daemon rose to confront him. Teclis spoke words of thunder and a sphere of coruscating energy leapt forth, its touch instantly casting the Daemon hack into the Realm of Chaos. Swiftly Teclis went to his brother's aid. Using all the healing lore he had learned in the White Tower he managed to summon Tyrion's spirit back from the brink of death's abyss. When the Daemon's defeat was revealed in his black orb of seeing, the Witch-King was enraged. He ordered one thousand enslaved Elf prisoners sacrificed to Slaancsh immediately.

The war blazed on with renewed ferocity. Teclis guided the Everqueen and his twin to the shores of the Inner Sea. There they were picked up by a white ship crewed by the remnants of the Queen's Guard. This carried them to the Plain of Finuval where the shattered remnants of the Elf armies were assembling for a desperate last stand. Charioteers from Tirane raced into position between Silver Helm cavalry and spcarmcn from Cothique and Yvresse. Ellyrian cavalrymen mustered beside the elite White Lions of Chrace. Griffon-mounted Elf Lords soared over the army. Swordmasters of the White Tower formed up alongside the Everqueen's Maiden Guard. When word of the Everqueen's presence was known, a great cheer went up from the army, and all the warriors gained new heart. But then a cloud of dust on the horizon announced the arrival of their enemies.

Battle of Finuval Plain
"I used to think I wanted to be a hero. I could not be a mage but I could be a mighty warrior. I told myself that many times. The truth was I simply liked killing things. There was a great anger in me, very well hidden. I liked proving I was better, stronger, faster than all the people I killed. It made me feel superior to them. There was no more conclusive proof, was there?"

- Prince Tyrion, expressing his inner daemons

That night the two armies camped almost within bowshot of each other. The watchfires of one force could be seen by the pickets of the other. In the Elf camp Tyrion and Teclis were greeted by their father Arathion. The old Elf lord gifted Tyrion with the Dragon Armour of Aenarion. This armour had been worn by the first Phoenix King during the ancient wars with Chaos. It had been forged in Vaul's Anvil and could resist the fiery breath of Dragons. Out of gratitude for his rescue of the Everqueen, the Elves of Ellyrion presented him with their finest steed, Malhandir, last of the bloodline of Korhandir, father of horses. The Everqueen herself gifted him with a heart-shaped brooch which she had woven with enchantments for his safe return. In his mighty fist Tyrion grasped the runesword Sunfang, forged in elder days to be the bane of Daemons. So Tyrion was made ready for battle. To Teclis, Alarielle gave the sacred Staff of Lileath. It granted him strength and power so great that he had no need for his enabling potions. He refused the offer of any sword, preferring to use the blade he had forged with his own hands. He was now ready to stand beside his brother in the heat of battle.

The coming of day revealed the full extent of the Chaos forces. Endless ranks of Dark Elf crossbowmen chanted the praises of Slaanesh. A horde of Cold Ones croaked and bellowed in the chill morning light. Mail-armoured warriors brandished their spears. Witch Elves cackled and screamed maniacally. Beastmasters herded monsters into position. One entire flank of the Witch King's army was held by Chaos knights and their bestial retinues. The Elves were greatly outnumbered and the situation looked desperate. From a blasted hill in the centre of that evil army, the gigantic black-armoured figure of the Witch King surveyed the battlefield, confident that victory was within his iron-clawed grasp. Urian Poisonblade, the Witch King's personal champion, called out a challenge to single combat.

Urian's reputation preceded him. He had been bred for battle by the Witch King himself. He was the greatest of assassins, the most relentless of slayers. He had the heart of a daemon and the eyes of a hawk. He could kill a bull with one blow of his bare hands, and deflect an arrow in flight with a sweep of his blade. On his brow was the mark of Khaine. He was Death incarnate. Arhalien of Yvresse was the first to respond. He was a mighty soldier, a veteran of countless battles. Urian cut him down as if he were a child. The Elf army moaned in despair and dismay. Next was Korhian Ironglaive, captain of the White Lions, the most renowned warrior of Chrace. Blows were exchanged faster than the eye could follow but to no avail — within minutes the proud High Elf lay headless on the plain. Then Tyrion strode forth.

It was a battle the like of which those present had never before witnessed. It was as if gods themselves made war. Sparks flew as blade clashed on blade. Both warriors fought in deadly silence. Again and again Urian's glowing black blade was turned by Tyrions armour. Again and again the master assassin ducked the sweep of Sunfang. They fought for an hour and it seemed that neither would have the edge. Spells blistered the air around them as the Witch King sought to aid his champion. Sweat glistening on his brow, Tcclis dispelled them. Every witness held their breath. It seemed impossible that anyone could survive in the middle of that storm of blades.

Then Tyrion slipped and Urian loomed over him blade held high. It was the opening that the High Elf had waited for. A quick thrust of his weapon found the assassin's heart. The host of darkness let out a howl of anguish and charged forward to overwhelm the lone Elf warrior and the Elf army raced to meet them. Malhandir reached his master first and Tyrion vaulted into the saddle then turned to face his foes. The two forces clashed at the heart of Finuval Plain. The Dark Elves had the greater number and their allies were fell. The High Elves were fighting for their homeland and the Everqueen. They had the desperate courage that this might be their last chance to turn the tide. For an entire day, the armies fought with savage fury. Both sides were driven by the consuming hatred that their ancient civil war had bred.

Flights of crossbow bolts, so numerous they darkened the sky, were met by clouds of white fletched arrows. Great lumbering Cold Ones were hamstrung by nimble Elven warriors. The horsemen of Ellyrion were pulled down by the foul beasts of Chaos. Spells crackled back and forth through the air. Blood mingled with the dust thrown up by the battle. Thousands died but neither side gave any ground. So great was the carnage that warriors fought over bodies of the dead and ravens feasted on the wounded trapped inside the mounds of corpses. Right at the center, Tyrion fought with the fury of an enraged beast. His great burning blade cut down foes with every stroke, and his shining mail turned the swords of his desperate foes. By himself he was worth an army. Where he rode the Elves took heart. Malhandir trampled Dark Elves beneath his silver-shod hooves. But Tyrion could not he everywhere at once and slowly the weight of numbers turned the battle against the High Elves.

The Defeat of the Witch King


At the heart of the battle, Teclis wrestled with the dark sorcery of the Witch King. Naggaroth's dark master had perfected his evil arts over long millennia and for the first time Teclis met a foe that was his match. Awesome magical energies were focussed and brought to bear. Lightning streaked the darkening sky. Ten-ihle clouds, capable of stripping warriors to the bone, were turned aside by magical winds. Daemons howled and gibbered as they surged through the carnage. Teclis strode into the sky to better observe the battle. From the blasted hilltop the Witch King matched him spell for spell. Teclis saw that the battle had turned. The size of the Dark Elf warhost was too great. It looked as if the Elves would be utterly massacred. Now there was nothing else for it. It was time for a last desperate gamble. He invoked the power of Lileath.

His staff glowed and pulsed as the goddess fed him energy. Teclis sculpted the power into one bolt of titanic power and unleashed it upon the Witch King. Frantically the evil one tried to turn it aside but could not. The blast descended on him, burning into his very soul. At the final moment he was forced to cast himself into the Realm of Chaos to avoid final and utter death. Freed now from the burden of dealing with the Witch King, Teclis turned his energies on the horde of evil. Spell after spell crashed down on the Dark Elves, the carnage was too awful to contemplate. Malhandir brought Tyrion face to face with the Witch King's standard bearer. The High Elf cut down his foe with ease. Malhandir trampled the Witch King's banner into the mud. Seeing their Lord defeated and their standard smashed the Dark Elves fell into despair. Overhead a seemingly unstoppable magician rained magical doom down on them, whilst before them an unstoppable warrior clove through their ranks like a ship through the waves.

Almost to a man that vast army turned and fled. Almost to a man they were cut down. The High Elves had won their first major victory of the year. The ride had turned. Tyrion led the army south to relieve Lotheni. Word of his coining gave heart to the High Elves. The tall warrior wearing the Everqueen's favour and his sorcerer twin became feared by their foes. The High Elf army fell on the besiegers of Lothem, putting them to the sword. The Phoenix King led his guard from Lothem to meet them. Caught between the hammer and the anvil the besieging army was crushed. Outside the walls of Lothern, Tyrion and Teclis were greeted by the Phoenix King himself. Within two days a great plan was conceived to drive the Dark Elves from the land. Tyrion would lead one High Elf army to Saphery to relieve the Tower of Hoeth. The Phoenix King would drive north and engage the enemy directly. Word arrived from Caledor that the dragons had been roused. Victory was within the High Elves' grasp.

The Gift of Magic
Just as the armies readied to set out, a battered ship limped into harbour. It was commanded by Pieter Lazio, personal ambassador of Magnus the Pious. He bore a tale of woe from the Old World. The armies of Chaos had overrun Kislev and looked set to sweep over the lands of Men. Magnus had led the human defence of the Empire and, desperate for help, had sent to the Elves for aid. The Elves knew that they could barely spare a single warrior fmm their forces and yet they knew that if Mankind failed then the forces of Chaos in the Old World would he free to aid the Dark Elves. Hearing once more the call of destiny, Teclis volunteered to go to the aid of Mankind.

Yrtle and Finreir, two of his old comrades from the Tower of Hoeth agreed to go with him. It was all that could be done. The two brothers parted at the docks in Lothern. It was a bleak farewell. Neither knew if they would ever see each other again. Teclis took to his ship. Tyrion rode away with his army. It would be many long years before they saw each other again. Now leading the Elf army, Tyrion proved to be every bit as skillful a general as he was a warrior. His surprise attack routed the Chaos forces in the woods around the White Tower. Joined by a contingent of Swordmasters, his army marched on into southern Avelorn to reclaim the Everqueen's land. There the Dark Elves had been demoralised by the Witch King's defeat and hounded relentlessly by guerrilla forces. Tyrion drove them out of the woods and into the hills of southern Chrace.

In this mountainous land a savage war of ambush and counter-ambush was fought. But the Phoenix King had lent Tyrion the services of a unit of White Lions and these bold warriors' knowledge of their homeland was to prove invaluable. In the year 2303, exactly two years after the invasion began, the Phoenix King and Tyrion met at "lin Achare, the capital of Chrace. The Dark Elves had been driven from the mainland of Ulthuan. The war was all but over, although bitter fighting was to rumble on in the islands for many decades. In the Old World, Teclis and his companions arrived at the court of Magnus the Pious, where Teclis's wise advice and mighty sorcery soon made him an invaluable counsellor. The influence of the three High Elf Mages changed the course of the war. They taught some simple battle spells to the human hedge wizards and these, Combined with their own command of awesome forces, aided in many victories for the men. In numerous battles they proved their willingness to spill their own blood in defence of the lands of man and Teclis and Finreir both took many wounds.

Yrtle himself fell in battle and was buried with great honour. Rut it was after the war, when Magnus had driven the enemy from the land and he'd been hailed as the new Emperor, that he performed what was to be his most significant act. Magnus requested that Finreir and Teclis teach the full secrets of magic to men. The new Emperor had seen how instrumental it had been in holding back the tide of Chaos and wanted to add yet another weapon to Mankind's arsenal. At first Finreir resisted. Elves and Men had come to blows in the past and might do so again. Teclis took the long view. He argued that by helping Men protect themselves against Chaos they would create an invaluable bulwark against the forces of darkness. Eventually Teclis's view prevailed and the Colleges of Magic were established. Teclis himself taught the first human students and more than twenty years passed before he returned home. Through his work as a teacher, he became fond of the race of Men and saw in it the possibility and the threat that in time it might far exceed the declining race of Elves.

The two brothers met again at their ancestral home in the year 2326 when Teclis returned for their father's funeral. It was a sad moment but the two embraced joyously. Tyrion was now the chosen Champion of the Everqueen, second only to the Phoenix King among the defenders of Ulthuan. Teclis planned to return to the Empire to continue his work, but word came that the High Loremaster of the White lbwer had died and the council offered Teclis his position. Teclis could not refuse such an honour and so he returned to the Tower of Hoeth. Since the days of the Great War against Chaos the two brothers have been active in the defence of Ulthuan. Tyrion led the army that defeated Erik Redaxe's army of Norse raiders and twice led expeditions to the Blighted Isle to reclaim the Altar of Khaine from the Dark Elves. Both times he drove the spawn of Naggaroth off but always they return. When not leading the armies to war he dwells at the court of the Everqueen and keeps the peace in Avelom, slaying marauding monsters and hunting down bands of Beasunen and Goblins. Teclis probes the ancient mysteries of sorcery at the White Tower. Often his researches demand that he visit the far corners of the world. lie has ventured as far afield as Cathay and Lustria and has aided armies both human and High Elf against the forces of evil. And so does the fame of the Twin's grow larger ever still.

Characteristics
"Tyrion is the soul of charm. People like him. He knows how to put them at ease."

- Loremaster Teclis, twin brother



Tyrion has the very physique and attitude of a warrior born. From an early age, Tyrion was so unlike his twin brother, Teclis. While Tyrion was rash, energetic and courageous, Teclis was patient, calculating and clever. Tyrion is descended from the first of the Phoenix King; the doomed Aenarion. As such, he is tainted by the cursed blood of his ancestor. This curse has given Tyrion all the battle-prowess and tactical insight of his great grand-sire, but also some of his incipient madness. However, all of Aenarion's line are destined for greatness and as such Tyrion has been marked by the hand of fate since his very birth. Korhein Ironglaive have seen Tyrion's innate skill first hand when the young boy beat the veteran White Lion in several strategic games of cheese.

So impressed was the Captain of the White Lion that he took him in as his protégé. As he grew up within the confines of Lothern, where he was groomed to be a possible successor to the Phoenix Throne, his skills as a general and a warrior grew exponentially. Trained by Korhein Ironglaive and Prince Iltharis, the young Prince eventually grew to become an exceptionally skilled swordsmen.

As well as combat, Tyrion is also know well in Elven courts for his charms and charisma. It is often said by many of his close friends, and even his own brother Teclis, that Tyrion knows how to make people like him and make them feel at ease. Back home, Teclis had been the one favored by their father and Tyrion had been the outsider. Here, within the capital city, it was obvious their roles were always going to be reversed. Tyrion was the one who was the center of attention and Teclis knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was going to be that way from now on. Despite this, Tyrion has alway expressed a deep sense of brotherly love for Teclis, and though Teclis may not expressed the same amount of love in return, they nevertheless have a strong bond that few can sever.

Despite his many talents and skills, Tyrion is anything but a mortal Elf like everyone else. Though many would see him as brave and couragous against all foes, Tyrion has felt doubt, anguish and fear like any sane being would. Many expect Tyrion to be a God reborn, yet only a few really knew his true nature. However, his people put much of their faith upon him, and so Tyrion has learned to conquer his fears and doubts and to strive to be better and stronger for the benefit and protection of his people. Yet no matter how strong Tyrion has strived to be, the Curse of Aenarion will one day consume him, and if there was one thing Tyrion feared above all, it would be his fears of descending into the cursed madness and become Khaine reborn.

Wargear

 * Sunfang - This ancient sword, forged to slay Daemons in the earliest days of Aenarion's rule, burns with the captured fire of the sun.


 * Dragon Armor of Aenarion - This mighty armor was forged on Vaul's Anvil long ago to protect Aenarion. Upon his death, the armor was thought lost for thousands of years until it was uncovered by Tethlis the Slayer. Since then, it has borne only by the very greatest of Ulthuan's gloried heroes.


 * Heart of Avelorn - This bloody-red ruby was a gift from Everqueen Alarielle to Tyrion, and protects the bearer from death itself. It is said that if Tyrion were to fall, the Heart of Avelorn would break and restore him to life. Such renewal would not be without price, however. Should the Heart of Avelorn shatter, then whatever bond lies between Alarielle and Tyrion would also be sundered, never to be healed in all the ages of the world.