Cerlana Darkwalker
On first seeing Cerlana, her forest green hair is most notable followed by her sharp purple eyes that seem to look through you. She carries herself with a lot of self-confidence. This comes from living with a savage Orc warband that all but raised her. She is tough as nails. You would have to, to survive in Ghur.
After dedicating herself to Tyrion, she has since lost her eyesight, and ‘sees’ through the eyes of her trusty gryphound and eagle.
Cerlana Darkwalker was born to two wonderful parents. They lived within Azyr. Her first 15 years were spent with her parents learning the ways of the Aelf. Her mother, Selendti, was a gifted Bright Spell caster. Her Father, Vizrin, a wealthy man, who was very respected by his fellow Aelf. She could tell you many things about her parents but all you would get from her was that they were gone.
Drakol… that was his name. The name that haunts all of her dreams. It has been many years from the day that her parents were murdered in front of her eyes. The fire that night had burned hot. The kind of heat that makes your skin feel like it’s going to burst. The details of why Drakol came to her home that night has always confused her. She only remembers the screams from her mother. It was an evening like any other. Her father was home in time for dinner and she was off to bed at her regular time. Cerlana had a black eye from fighting with the neighbour kids who always made fun of her for how short she was. She knew she was short for an Aelf. But that didn’t stop her from chasing them down and giving them a good beating. She got a harsh look from her mother, but she was used to it by now and Cerlana was stubborn.
She was in a deep sleep when the screaming started. Cerlana jumped to her feet. She had never heard a scream like that before. Her gryph-hound was clawing at her bedroom door trying to get out. She flung the door open to find her father lifted into the air by a large man. He casually turned to look at Cerlana as she entered the room. It was like her presence meant nothing to him. His focus quickly changed to her mother as she let out another scream followed by a fire spell. The man put out a hand and redirected the flames at the wall. Immediately the room began to burn. The body of her father was bathed in the red glow of the fire. It was at that moment she knew he was gone. Despite the fire her body turned cold. She faintly noticed her mother moving towards the man. Drops of warm liquid hit her face. She reached her hand up to touch it. As she looked at her hands she recognised the deep red colour. Blood. It had been so fast. A knife was now in the man’s free hand and Selendti was holding her neck. The reality of what was happening hit her in waves. She heard a scream again. It took her a moment to understand that it was her voice screaming. With a thud against the wall, her father was thrown aside like garbage. She heard the gurgling sounds of her mother, now on the floor, trying to breathe. She was mouthing something. Run. Run. She saw the lips of her dying mother mouthing the word run.
‘My name is Drakol.’ Her attention switched to the man in the room. He loomed over her. Cerlana unconsciously took a step back from him as he approached. Her legs gave out and she collapsed backwards onto the floor. “I want you to know the name of the man who ended your family’s disgusting line. He had a snarl of rage on his face. Blood covered his mouth. His hand began to reach for her but Striker leapt forward and tore into his outstretched arm with her beak. Cerlana, taking the moment of distraction, turned and scrambled on all fours and lept through the front window. She landed outside with a thud and ran for the treeline. Cerlana could hear the scream of rage as Drokal began to run after her. Striker was quick to be on her heels. Running as swiftly as her small legs could carry her she found herself in a clearing. Cover, she needed something to hide behind. A light on the far side of the clearing appeared, without a second thought, she ran towards it in hopes of rescue. She couldn’t hesitate a moment. Drokal was close behind. The light seemed to be just inside the next tree line. Cerlana heard the call of alarm from Striker. As she turned to check, her whole world was bathed in bright light.
Wrestling With The Hand Of Fate
Améline hangs in the dark, alone save the for the ringing of hammers on an anvil, and pain. But these had been her constant companions. She could no more be frightened of them as she could be frightened of the ache of walking.She wonders if the Anvil of Apotheosis...
The Voice of Khaine
This is Morathi’s nascent diplomatic service. She understands that diplomacy is simply war carried out by alternative means, but figures there’s no reason to use alternatives.
Lord-Relictor Herakes and the Blackhammers
They’re an Exemplar Chamber of the Anvils of Heldenhammer, so they field a lot of Paladins, among them Améline’s old Retinue of Retributors. It’s an old Chamber, and has fought through some of the fiercest conflicts the Stormcast have fought in the Age of Sigmar. They are named after the legendary folk hero, simply known as Blackhammer.
What’s agreed is that this figure was a hero, who constantly risked their life for the benefit of others, and yet somehow always survived despite the overwhelming odds that they were faced with, constantly cheating death.
A death god, and Nagash is the one that is popularly ascribed this role but it could have been another one, took this quite literally, and soon began hungering for Blackhammer’s soul, for a mortal to escape their clutches so many times had become a blow against their pride. However, no matter what this death god did, they could not prove that Blackhammer had prolonged their life with fel powers, or seize their soul by force. In the end, they opted for patience, for it seemed that Blackhammer still aged as all mortals do.
When Blackhammer finally breathed their last, the death god smiled, and waited in Shyish for their soul to arrive… But it never did.
The death god scoured the Realms, but could not find Blackhammer’s soul. It seemed that, however they managed it which no one to this day knows, Blackhammer had cheated death one last time.
The Blackhammers, being Anvils of Heldenhammer and thus constantly at war with Nagash, loved the version of this story where the Great Necromancer was the one that tried to take Blackhammer’s soul. They took up their name in their honour and strive to emulate them, both in heroics and in their defiance of death and its masters.
As of this moment, the Blackhammers are counted as destroyed, wiped out by Archaon’s forces at the All-Points during the events of BR: Morathi.
Herakes, Brother of the Stars, Anvil-Bearer, Who-Carries-The-Firmament-And-Laughs (like this title is a translation of a word from his old long-dead tongue), Herakes the Spirit-Forge, and many other titles, was the Lord-Relictor of the Anvils of Heldenhammer. He was an ancient folk-hero from the long-bygone days of the Age of Myth, a man attributed with many legends and tall tales, some of which are true, though when asked about them he’ll simply smile and move the conversation away from the topic. He guided the Blackhammers in matters spiritual, mental, and ethical. Valued for more than just his hammer-arm, he brought great wisdom with him to his Stormcast siblings, as well as a great capacity for listening. More than just a brother, he was a mentor, a friend to many.
He was the first one who figured out why Améline seemed to have lost so much of her humanity, identifying her deaths and Reforging on the Anvil as the cause. Herakes tried to limit her self-sacrificing tendencies to preserve her humanity, but he largely proved unsuccessful in this, much to his dismay. It greatly saddened him when Améline left the Blackhammers to become an Errant-Questor, but he had hopes that she would find success on her quest. He continued to guide the Blackhammers, and always had time to give that guidance to Améline whenever their paths crossed.
His life took a drastic turn in a battle against Ossiarch Bonereapers. He perished during that battle, itself not an unusual occurance, but this time his soul-lightning struck a Morghast mid-flight. Somehow he fused with the Morghast, and his whole soul overpowered the fragments of the others, gaining incomplete control.
In his confusion, all he remembered was that Améline was in Misthavn. Warring against the original personality of the Morghast unchained from Nagash’s domination, he took flight towards the City of Scoundrels to reunite with his Stormcast sister. Along the way the Morghast-Herakes would meet up and travel with a pyromaniacal grot called Snazag.