The Life of Vaelance Draechifel
The Warhammer World
Vaelance Draechifel was born near the Dark Elves City of Executioners, Har Ganeth, to a family of Druchii nobles. His family was accursed for forsaking the great dark elf King Malekith, but even so they possessed vast wealth and a dark, impenetrable keep with many loyal followers. They raised male sorcerers, forbidden by Malekith himself, in a bid to attain power of their own. Vaelance would never feel this power as was intended.
His mother, Atheris, died shortly after childbirth. As she died, the cruel but beautiful Slaaneshi-worshipping Witch Elf turned back to her true self, a decrepit and withered old hag, the blood of innocents no longer sustaining her eternal youth. His father, the most powerful, cruel male sorcerer of the dissenters, Lord Vincentis Draechifel, who had obsessively lusted over her, cursed his son, and blamed him for her death.
Enraged, Vincentis struck and shook his infant and declared him to be dead. He carved tears of blood with his long, sharp black fingernails under the child's right eye, demanding that he cry for his mother. He was to be sacrificed to the true dark elf God, Khaine, for although he had allowed his love, Atheris, to practice in the Cult of Slaanesh, he felt now that her God was weak. The name 'Vaelance of Draechifel' was branded with a hot iron rod above the infant's heart so that Khaine would know which heritage had offered him, and he was taken away by his father's slaves to be strung up and quartered at an altar to the malevolent God.
Fate had envisioned a different path for the child. En route to the execution site, a Skaven deathsquad of the infamous Clan Eshin assassins struck their caravan, in retaliation for disrupting Skaven slave supply lines. They appeared as ghosts, dressed in their jet black garments, cloaks moving like water in the foggy wind. Sharp, poison soaked knives and shivs of all kinds hung from every hook on their thick leather armor. The calculating mutated rat men were seeking the Druchii Lord known as Vincentis, but by stroke of chance, happened upon his servants taking out his trash.
The Druchii slave guards fought in desperation against the skilled assassins, fearing the terrible Lord Draechifel's reprisal if their deed failed. For if the dark elf soldiers returned home without completing the sacrifice they would be submitted to far worse than drawings and quarterings. They were equally equipped with lethal weaponry and the best of Druchii armor. They were skilled warriors, the best of Vincentis' men. But the Skaven hit too hard and too fast, and as the assassins smoke bombs dissipated, and the last Druchii sword hit the ground, the only sound that could be heard was the wailing of the infant Vaelance.
The leader of the Clan Eshin raiding party, a particularly cunning and fearsome rat named Drekkych, in a flash of uncharacteristic pity for the bruised and beaten child, saw an opportunity in raising the dark elf for his own. Turning to his underlings, he claimed the child's ownership. His loyal brothers obeyed without question, for the symettry of this pack of Eshin warriors was unparalled. They were twenty three hardened assassins, blood brothers from the same litter, trained since birth in the ninja arts. Drekkych had long since proven his might as the most capable of the pack, and was at liberty to command any decision.
He took the infant, swaddled in a gutter runner's black cloth, back to their compound in the deepest, darkest tunnels of Skavenblight, and began to look after him. Drekkych kept the boy locked in the deeply hidden sector that was their hideout, and he was left alone for days at a time as Drekkych and his deathsquad followed their lord Snikch on clandestine missions of assassination. When not at battle, however, Drekkych focused all of his efforts on raising and tutoring the Druchii child.
As Vaelance grew, he saw Drekkych as a pseudo-father figure, and while this was almost completely unheard of, they grew a strong bond as master and apprentice. Drekkych quelled any rivalries between the boy and the other clan members immediately. These rats were cold, and violent, and deadly, but they seemed to maintain a measure of balance when it came to their sanity compared to the average Skaven. They lived by a twisted set of morals, akin to the lifestyle they learned watching the ninja warriors in Cathay. As it seemed Drekkych wanted to treat the elf as a student, the other members of the pack followed suit.
Drekkych was sure he could craft the cunning and prowess of the dark elf into a worthy servant warrior. He took pleasure in the taboo of doing all of this under his superior's snouts. He had always suffered a keen fascination with other races, especially the Druchii. He taught the boy to speak many languages, and to read from a selected few of the pilfered wealth of Empire books the Skaven had at his disposal. But he, and the others never let the boy learn anything about the Druchii, for fear that the elven God of Murder, Khaine, would take Vaelance away from them, in mind and body. All Vaelance knew of himself was that he was elf kind, abandoned at birth, and his name from the brand on his chest.
For years the only light that Vaelance would see was through the fires of his master's torches and the glow of warpstone that affected the abounding plant life. He became so accustomed to the dark he could find his way through the labyrinth of caves in complete blackness. Tutored under the nimble and agile Drekkych he became a worthy assassin – aiding the deathsquad in the disposal of rival Clan members and remaining utterly concealed in the depths of the warp. He was valued for his own skills, his intuition and intelligence bested any average Skaven, and he took to the life of the assassin quite easily. Even as a youngling elf, his handsome demeanor belied his deadliness. His senses grew to that of his Skaven counterparts, and his eyes began to glow a sparkling toxic blue from exposure to the warpstone.
The pack had made their home in a set of tunnels near an underground hot-spring, and they had several open rooms filled with sweltering pools and glowing neon warp-infused fauna. Drekkych's private grotto was Vaelance's favorite place to go when not on a mission. It was a beautiful and mystical place, and Drekkych allowed no one but Vaelance and himself to go there. Sometimes they would train there in solitude, amongst the brightly glowing purple mushrooms and dazzling fungus patterns that covered the walls, floor and ceiling.
For a Skaven, Drekkych was unusually attuned with sympathy for his pet project, and Vaelance looked up to him with devotion. Drekkych seemed at times a hideous creature, bloodcrazed, the kind of nightmare you shudder to think of - but he could also conjure the image of the patient mentor. He allowed Vaelance to roam freely throughout the tunnels, under the condition that he use stealth and caution at all times. He was never allowed to leave the expanse of the pack's labyrinthine compound, unless on assignment with the others, nor would it be wise lest he find himself lost in the tunnels of Skavenblight surrounded by creatures far worse than his master.
Even as a child, when he slept, Vaelance begun to hear whispers in his dreams. He never told Drekkych about them, for he did not understand them himself. The voice claimed that he was the bloody handed God of Murder, and that Vaelance would soon be called to serve his destiny under him. The dreams, or nightmares, became a facet of his daily life, and the thought of his predestined fate at the hands of this malevolent God consumed him.
