BACKGROUND

My name is Arendur.

Mine is a line of sea-mages from Eataine who kept safe the waters around Ulthuan for millennia,
either in battle aboard the slender ships, or in convocations bending the tides to the will of the Asur.
My ancestors achieved great things and took part in glorious victories, though for reasons that will
become clear I know scant details of their feats, and have no such accomplishments of my own.

I do know that during the reign of the Conqueror, over four thousand years ago, one of my ancestors
was rewarded by the Phoenix King with a beautiful sword. I neither know what deed was done, nor
what power the sword held, but I have its name: the Liquescent Blade. The gift was handed down
through generations until it reached my grandfather, Tharellion the Cold.

The information I have came from my mother, who remembered it from the bitter words of my
father before he sent her away.

Around eight centuries ago, the reign of the previous Phoenix King, my grandfather was tasked with
taking a host of warriors to bolster the forces in northern Yvresse, where many Norse raiders had
established a defensible position on shore from which issued forth brutal raiding parties. Tharellion
advocated a decisive assault at dusk during which he would call forth the waves to flood the Norse
encampment, flushing them out in disarray and allowing the superior Asur warriors to bear down
upon them without mercy. It was a lauded plan, the other commanders were eager to dig out the
infection on their land as quickly as possible.

The assault was launched, the glittering host charging the invaders position with my grandfather at
the forefront, but at the critical moment he stopped his steed. Those close by later said they saw his
face turn ashen and his eyes widen in fear as his trembling hands dropped sword and staff to the
ground. Tharellion muttered a few words to open a mystical gate beside him into which he jumped
and was gone.

The charge faltered in confusion, unprepared and out of position, many no longer even facing the
direction, and the Norsemen took full advantage. Whether they were expecting the assault is not
clear, but they responded with uncanny speed. A massive volley of their crude arrows flew forth
followed immediately by a frenzied counter-charge, a frothing tidal wave of screaming men. They
pushed back the valiant Asur forcing a retreat to their rearward positions at the cost of many lives,
including a Prince of Yvresse.

It took a further two weeks to beat the Norsemen back to their ships and into the sea. In that time a
further three villages were sacked and a waystone destroyed. None of the bodies from the failed
assault were recovered, nor were any of their dropped arms and artefacts, including the Liquescent
Blade. Word quickly spread of Tharellion’s cowardice and treachery, blame heaped upon him for
every death that occurred after he disappeared, but no sign of him could be found.

Months later, when the threat of the many Norse invasions had abated, my father, Erenndil, was
called before the court of the Phoenix King to answer for his father’s crimes. Erenndil, though quite
young at this time, was a skilled and respected mage in his own right, specialising in supporting ship
to ship actions, always preferring to stay close to his beloved Lothern. He found only anger and scorn
at the court. He pleaded that the witnesses’ recollections did not reconcile with what he and
everyone else knew about his father, but his words were cut short by the proclamation of the King.
The Sage could not decide whether abandoning his force or carelessly throwing away the gift of a
Phoenix King was the worse crime, but in the end it would not matter.

The punishment for Tharellion’s actions would be the renouncement of his entire lineage from
formally recognised positions. My father was stripped of his responsibilities and ordered to cease
practicing magic of any kind. The family estates and vineyards in Eataine were seized and divided
amongst neighbouring lords, as were the expansive chambers in Lothern. Erenndil was cast out,
treated with distain by all he previously called friends but unwilling to leave the only place he knew,
he found shelter in an old and little used part of the city from where he could eke out a living taking
jobs from the merchants and seafarers.