Furion

Furion von Clar Karond ist der Herrscher selbiger Dunkelelfenstadt und Chronist von Malekith, dem Hexenkönig. ^[1]

Er lebte schon zur Zeit der Abspaltung, ist also mehrere tausend Jahre alt. Er ist in der dunklen Magie bewandert, vielleicht sogar einer der größten noch lebenden Schwarzmagier, während den "gewöhnlichen" männlichen Dunkelelfen per Dekret von Malekith das Erlernen von Magie verboten ist. ^[1]

Furion trägt um seinen Hals eine Kette aus den Zähnen seiner eigenen Töchter, die er erschlug, als sie ihn verrieten. Er erschuf die legendäre Schattenkrone und das Buch des Furion. Aufgrund seines Wissens um die Magie ist es wahrscheinlich, das er zu den ehemaligen Zauberprinzen von Saphery gehörte. Ihm gehörte die Klaue der Herrschaft.^[1]

When our ancestors first made fall into our land of exile, they found it nigh deserted. A few pitiful natives had since inhabitants of the land after the Witch King had cleared them last, less than hundred years before, but they were little challenge for our majestic dark riders and potent sorceries. We had arrived in the summer, thought we could scarce recognize it in the frozen tundra of the land we called Naggaroth. Our first few month were easy as we quickly spread inland, founding settlements after settlements, wielding our magic to carve towers and altars, free to worship in this hard country of promise. We also built defensive traps along the coast and to the south, ready for the persuit by the false Phoenix King and his minions. After the first winter drew in, we began to suffer. Our buldings, designed in the manner fit for the balmy climes of Ulthuan, did nothing to protect us from the biting winds and chilling temperatures that we now faced. We had not yeat learnt the means to subsist here, food and resources were limited and the Black Arks became trapped as their safe harbours froze over. For our nobe Witch King, it promides to be an ignoble end to his glorious liberation. And then, as though to complete the misery, the Hung returned. The Hunghad travelled from far in the north. petty hunters following their prey down into their winter fields. They were feral savages on stunted ponies, and there was a horde of them. Thus, in the first encounters, our mighty people, beaten, hungry and spread far across the land, were isolated and forced from their homes by this irascible barbarian host. Those who stood steadfast and defendet what was theirs were slain and dismembered, some were even eaten; such was the bestial nature of our foe. Even oure fine soldiers, on those few occasions when we brought them to fight in battle, fared badly. Our warsteeds slipped and froze out in the broken, icy terrain, our guard was outflanked and surrounded in the narrow valleys, and the land, which seemed to despise us as much as the Hung, provided nothing to forage, while its harsh, splintered wood proved useless to replace our eleganz bows or sure arrows. With no way to replace our forces, and precious few reserves to call upon, we retreated before the roving Hung bands, whose pursuit slowed as they pillaged and burnt the abadoned settlements and gorged on the fine food and wine that had been left behind. Thus it was that our fledging empire stood upon the brink of destruction by this pack of low savages, as all was laid waste exept the Black Arks, and the seat of the Witch King himself, that ark which had been been beached and around which the majestic city of Naggarond that had already begun to form. The Black Arks were frozen in place, but they were stll informidable fortresses, far greater than these cowardly mongrel packs would have ever beheld. Nevertheless, they were too small to sustain themselves through an extended siege, and their supplies had been depleted in their long voyage amd the doomed expansion inland. But there was no choice, they had to be defended. Beyond our walls the Hung massed. Band after Band of them gathered until it seemed the coast and cliffs were alive with them. For an entire day they stood there on their foul shrunken horses regarding us through their thin eyes, and I felt the fate of our tiny nation in the balance. And then for no apparent reason they turned and departed. Some of us say that our defences were too impressive, too formidable for them to wish to throw themselves against, others say that they considered we would never survive on these shores and that they might as well let the land accomplish their task for them. I believe neither explanation, I believe in Malekith and praise him for whatever he must have done to secure our survival. The year after, they returned again, but this time we met them with corssbows and war engines and beasts theat we tamed from the forests and magicks we conjured from the air. We fought and we repelled them, enslaving those we could as prisoners to ever quicken our development and domination over this world. The next year, and the year after and many years since then have we tested and broken these degenerate barbarians, even as tehy devised new methods by wich to conquer. The tone for our history with them was thus set as one of constant competition, occasioned by infrequent alliances and more frequent betrayal and deceit, wich will continue until we can finally eradicate them from our borders and from our hearthlands. +++Furion+++ Druchii aus Clar Karond[2]

Quelle

• ^[1]: Armeebuch Dunkelelfen 6. Edition
• ^[2]: Liber Chaotica, Liber Khorne, The Hung