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Moonrise Tower
Army:	High Elf
Zone:	The Blighted Isle
Chapter:	Prologue
Tier:	1
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The High Elf prologue chapter takes place in the Moonrise Tower of the Blighted Isle.

WAR Story

High Elf

Prince Tyrion looked out to sea and did the same thing he had done day after day, and week after week, He watched, and he waited.

The sun hung low on the wester horizon, spilling blood-red light across the waves. The twilight sky above was deepening to purple, and the first silver starts of night were winking into view.

They were out there. They were coming. Even at this distance, he could feel their hatred. It was oppressive, almost overwhelming.

A chill wind from the west whipped long strands of golden hair about his face. His white cloak flattered, and behind him, the shining guard snapped to and fro. The prince closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander back.

Now he was in the past, at the great harbor of Lothern. A great flotilla of High Elf longships waited at anchor. The sun shone brightly, and the silver and gold adornments on the ships shone and gillered so that it was hard to look at them. Each vessel was laden with warriors and supplies for the long campaign in the Old World. None of the High Elves knew how long the army would have to fight to drive the hordes of Chaos out of the Empire, but there was no talk of defeat. It was only a matter of how long it would take to achieve victory. Spirits were high, as they always were when the High Elves went to sea.

The Phoenix King stood resplendent in his war gear. He had traded his crown for a tall, golden helm and his scepter for a magnificent sword of purest ithilmar. The King took Prince Tyrion's hands in his own, and smiled.

"I entrust the defense of home to you, my old friend. To you, and the Shining Guard that you will lead, should our enemies find our shores once again."

And they will, was the unspoken message. King Finubar and Prince Tyrion could see the Witch King's plot unfolding all too clearly, but to ignore the Empire's plea for aid would be to trade victory now for certain defeat later. The Dark Elves were coming, of that there was no question. All that was left to know was where they would land, and how soon.

The Prince and the King turned as one, and looked out across the proud legions of the Shining Guard, gathered to pay tribute to their bretheren [sic] who were leaving for the Old World. Of all the warriors and mages who were not making the journey across the sea, the Guard were the best and brightest. Though a small army even by High Elf standards, they were proud and determined. Tyrion had inspired those qualities in them, the King knew.

"It is a mighty army, Prince Tyrion. They will serve you well."

"They will serve Ulthuan, my liege." answered the Prince. "With their lives, if need be."

The King smiled., [sic] and then turned to board his ship. That was the last time Tyrion had seen him.

"Black Ark! Black Ark to the north!" It was the cry of a sentry, echoing from the sea-side tower near where the Prince was standing.

Tyrion's eyes snapped open. It was darker now. How long had he mused? The sun was gone, and the gloom of night was swallowing up the last tattered beams or gold and orange light in the west. There, against the fading glow he could see a black shape, like a distant mountain rising above the wave. No islands lay in that direction, the Prince knew.

And the mountain was coming closer.

"Prepare for attack!" called out the Prince, and the warriors of the Shining Guard raced into action, taking up defensive positions along the shore. The nearby village of Nimosar had been fortified in preparation for the attack. Batteries of Eagle Claw Bolt Throwers lining the high cliffs that looked out over the sea, and mages stood ready to hurl deadly spells at the enemy.

The last glorious rays of the sunset burned themselves out, and darkness swept over the land. The long wait was over - the enemy was here. It was time for the true quality of the Shining Guard to be put to the test.

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