The Dark Elf race was born in war, a conflict that has continued for more than 5,000 years. The roots of this terrible war lie with one being, once a High Elf prince of the most noble blood, but who was destined to become the Witch King of the Dark Elves. The name of this abomination was Malekith.
Malekith was the son of Aenarion, the first of the High Elf Phoenix Kings, and the mysterious and beautiful seeress Morathi. He grew to be a mighty warrior and a great sorcerer. What no-one knew was that Malekith had been secretly experimenting with the power of Dark Magic, and that his contact with its evil energies had corrupted his spirit and created in him an overwhelming desire for supreme power.
However, Malekith's secret experiments slowly began to affect his appearance and character. He grew slowly more and more introverted, his skin grew more pallid, and his personality became progressively more sinister and intimidating. So it was that when Aenarion died there were many who doubted that Malekith would make a suitable ruler, and he was passed over in favour of Bel-Shanaar, who became the second Phoenix King. Hiding his resentment and frustration, Malekith vowed to wait until he could make the throne his own. None suspected his evil intentions or his unquenchable thirst for power.
Malekith bided his time. In the colonies he led successful armies against the Orcs and the forces of Chaos. His expeditions took him ever onward to the cold colonies of the northern New World. Here in the rubble of an abandoned pre-human city he found the Circlet of Iron, a talisman of awesome sorcerous power. Finally, after many decades, he worked himself into a position of power second only to the Phoenix King's, and then he acted.
Malekith claimed that Bel-Shanaar was a secret worshipper of the Chaos gods, and then had him poisoned. Believing that all he now had to do was crown himself as the new Phoenix King, Malekith marched into the sacred flame of the god Asuryan, the final test that each Phoenix King has to pass to prove their worthiness for the crown. Malekith was confident that he could endure the ordeal as his father had done before him, but he was proved horribly wrong. The flame of Asuryan would not suffer his polluted body to pass through it. Horribly scarred and burned, Malekith was cast back onto the side of the platform he had entered from.
Malekith and his followers fled to their stronghold in the mountains to the north of Ulthuan. Leaderless, the Elves did not pursue. Frantic consultations were held and it was decided that the third Phoenix King was to be Imrik, who upon his succession took the name Caledor the First. Meanwhile civil war raged throughout Ulthuan. It was a period of great confusion and conflicting rumour. Brother fought brother. In the far realms and colonies no-one knew who the true king was. Some spoke for Caledor, some spoke for Malekith.
In strength the two sides were equally matched. The followers of Malekith were numerous and well-versed in sorcery, being descendants of those grim Elves who had followed Aenarion after he took up the Sword of Khaine. There were no fiercer warriors among Elvenkind. Their mountainous stronghold in the north of Ulthuan was a near impregnable base from which they could launch their attacks. At first they were as organised and disciplined as their enemies were confused. However, the new Phoenix King could call on the mighty Dragon-riders of Caledor and the legions of the Phoenix Guard.
Malekith himself recovered his strength and called his armourers to him. With the aid of the sorcerers he had trained in the arts of Dark Magic and Hotek, a renegade Priest of Vaul, he forged a great suit of black armour which would lend strength to his withered and fire-blasted body. To the brow of its great horned helm was welded the Circlet of Iron. On the day of its creation he had his armourers fuse the suit directly to his body. After passing through the fires of Asuryan even the infernal heat of their forges could not hurt him. After that day those who looked upon Malekith shuddered, for he was a figure of dread. Ever afterwards, Malekith was to be known as the Witch King.
Fell he was and many were his victories but to no avail. Slowly and surely the truth of what had happened came out, and slowly and surely the Elves rallied to the side of Caledor. Time and again the new Phoenix King proved his cunning as a general. He sprang traps and ambushes on the Witch King's forces. He crushed them on the open field of battle. The White Lions protected him from many assassination attempts and his personal retinue of Sapherian wizards countered all death-spells. Finally Caledor faced the Witch King himself in battle and defeated the mightiest of his armies, driving them into the marshes of Maledor.
The Witch King decided on a final gamble. He gathered all his sorcerers together and revealed a plan as mad as it was bold: he intended to undo the spells that bound the Realm of Chaos to the Northern Wastes. The Witch King and his fellows would call upon the dark gods of Chaos themselves to help them defeat Caledor. So far lost to sanity were many of the Dark Elves that they readily agreed. At dusk as the sky shimmered with weird many-coloured lights, the Witch King and his followers attempted to carry out their supremely evil plan. For hours the Witch King and his followers struggled, but it slowly became obvious that even their combined might was not great enough to break through the magical barriers that contained the Realm of Chaos.
Suddenly a surge of mystical power came hurtling back to strike the Witch King and his followers. Many of the Witch King's coven fell stone dead. The land bucked and heaved like a terrified horse and a storm of baleful magic raced over the land. Nothing could withstand the terrible forces unleashed. The earth itself buckled under the titanic stress, and across the island continent earthquakes cast down cities and levelled mountains. A wall of water a thousand feet high smashed down and the sea rushed in to cover a huge area of northern Ulthuan. Tens of thousands of Elves were slain, drowned by waves, buried by earthquakes, struck by magical lightning. The shock of the sinking was felt as far away as the World's Edge Mountains and is recorded in the chronicles of the Dwarf kings.
The power of the Witch King was reduced but not broken. In those last hours as the seas rushed in to devour the land the Witch King and the mightiest of his followers cast dark and terrible spells. As the waves crashed round the hilltops the wizards' palaces broke free and floated on the surface of the waves. Large as icebergs they drifted off to the north carrying the remaining followers of the Witch King. Thus were created the infamous Black Arks of Naggaroth.
The cataclysm destroyed much of what had been built up during the long reign of Bel-Shanaar and left the Elves temporarily too weak to pursue their dark kinsfolk. The Black Arks made landfall in the bleak north of the New World, near where Malekith had found the Circlet of Iron. The Dark Elves named their new land Naggaroth, the Land of Chill. Their towers became the cores of new cities. Other Black Arks were left to patrol the stormy seas. There they drew the sea monsters cast up from the ocean bottom by the sinking of the land into the service of their evil master. The fell kingdom of the Dark Elves had been born: death and destruction were the legacy it would bring to all the races of the Warhammer world.
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