Araloth

Lord of Talsyn, Araloth the Bold was not always a hero. In his youth, he was a craven lordling who had not the mettle to hunt any prey that could hunt him in return. Whilst others went to battle in his stead, Araloth caroused and hunted in the company of worthless friends, and tried to forget his shame.

It was upon one such hunt that Araloth was thrown from his horse, and separated from all companions save for Skaryn, his trusted hawk. After wandering lost for many hours, Araloth came to a strange glade. Though dawn had broken scant hours before, the lordling now beheld a crescent moon hanging low in a darkened sky. It was a scene to stir the heart, yet Araloth scarcely saw it. H e had eyes only for the Elf maiden who stood alone at the glade’s heart, and the monstrous four-armed Daemon that menaced her.

There, at last, Araloth found his courage, for even his craven heart could not abandon the maid to the Daemon’s cruel pleasures. Before he realised it, Araloth was running to her aid, and his hunting spear soon gouged the Daemon’s flank. The beast was swift, and Araloth would have perished from its counterblow, had Skaryn not descended from the skies to tear out the Daemon’s eyes. Blinded, the beast flailed madly, but Araloth ducked easily under its claws and thrust his spear deep into its black heart. As the Daemon fell dead, Araloth closed his eyes, amazed both at his victory and at the courage with which he had won it. When he opened them once more, the Daemon’s body had vanished. Looking upon the maiden once more, Araloth saw at last beyond her mortal guise, and knew that he was in the presence of a goddess.

Long they walked under the stars, the goddess and the lordling. They spoke of many things, and she revealed to him many wonders. The goddess told of how she had watched and counselled the Elves since the dawning of the world, speaking plainly when the Creator allowed it, and through dreams when he would not. But even the power of the gods must fade, she said sadly. Hers was nearly spent, but she still had three great gifts to bestow. Araloth, freed now of his fears, was the first of these; a hero to defend the Elves in the coming dark. The second would be Araloth’s first-born daughter, a saviour to bring hope when it was needed most. Of the third gift, however, the goddess would not speak, for there were some secrets even she could not share. Soon after, Araloth fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, he did so in his hall, with friends at his bedside. He had been thrown from his horse, they said, his senses scattered by the fall. When Araloth told them of his tale, his companions laughed, thinking that he had dreamt it all. Not wishing to be thought mad, Araloth laughed also, but his heart knew the truth.

In the years after, Araloth became the fearless hero that the goddess had foretold, his triumphs the inspiration for many a song. Following the Battle of Arden, in which Araloth slew Morghur the Corruptor, the Mage Queen decreed that he would thereafter be her royal champion, an honour not bestowed in living memory, yet despite the renown and the accolades, Araloth has never forgotten she who made him thus. So it is that on those nights when the crescent moon shines down upon Athel Loren, Araloth the Bold embarks upon the hunt with Skaryn as his only companion, hoping to meet with his beloved goddess once more.

Source

 * Warhammer Armies: Wood Elves (8th Edition) -- pg. 56