[hider=Swooping Hawk]
Appearance: Olanaer Looks as many of his cousins do. Tall and lithe with a smooth airless gait to his step, one just bordering on sinister and predatory. He does not fancy the longer hairstyles of his kin though. Disliking the slight impedment to his speed and form during flight. And it's noticabilty should his helmet ever become removed. Usually he is seen sporting no hair at all. 

Of course most people don't get to actually see him as he is high in the clouds. Letting his aspect armour blend his silouette into the seamless sky. Only diving low enough when it is time to land a blow before darting back into the air again. 

Storm talon colours is a deep sky blue with dark grey trimmings. The flight wings usually match the colours of whatever sky they are flying through. But during combat thee wings can be commanded to flash blues, greys and whites. Constant swriling changes, like a thunderstorm itself is following at beck and call of the aspect warrior. 

Name: Olanaer

Age:1,100 years old

Aspect: Swooping hawk, The Storm Talon shrine

Equipment: 

Swooping hawk aspect armour, painted in shrine colours, 

Flight wings

Plasma grenades x3

Spirit stone

Lasblaster (cloudsweeper pattern)

Ceremonial Knife



Personality: 

Olanaer appears far calmer than he is internally. After decades of service within the swooping hawks he still tries to make sense of himself. And struggles with the knowledge that when the time comes he will likely not be able to leave the path of the warrior. And it troubles him. Troubles him more than he lets on. 

He knows the rest of his bretheren. Fellow aspect warriors would see him as an icon to be respected. He would possess the respect of his warrior peers. And he would serve his people in the best way he was capable of doing it. But the fact that this was the best way he was capable of serving his people is the very part that disturbs him most of all. 

His outer self, the part of his personality that shines to the surface in spite of his inner soul searching in quite reminiscient of his youth. He is not the brash young boy he was centuries ago. But he is always willing to laugh when the moment calls. And sometimes when it doesn't. He can appear cheerful and gregarious to his friends. Not one that could be described as the solitary type by any means. 

He is also fiercely loyal to his fellow kin. And perceives any threat to their safety as equal as a threat to his own. And responds appropriately. It is said in eldar mythology that the swooping hawks aspect warriors gain their name from the animal of the same that was once very common hunting bird. Less of a pet and more of a companion. For they could never be truly tamed and were always wild at heart. 

But these birds became a sybmol for revenge and retribution for the way they used to circle their prey. To taunt and tire them until the time came to dive down like an angel of vengence and end their wretched existance and finally claim retribution for that person's crimes. 

And like the hunting birds of old so do the swooping hawks circle the enemies of the eldar like the guilty prey they are. Guilty of perpetrating and carrying out violence against such a proud and noble people. And Olanaer take it upon himself to embody this aspect of khaine with a gusto. Falling upon whoever might dare harm another eldar in a flurry of laser blasts and plasma explosions. 

Sometimes circling above their heads again and again and again. Letting himself become a visible symbol of dread to a guilty concience before finally swooping in to deliver a quick clean kill and allow his exhausted quarry to rest. 

Bio: 

Olanaer is not as ancient as some eldar who can boast nearly living as long as ten thousand years. He had only walked the path of the warrior twice before he joined the swooping hawk shrine. He was a dire Avenger in his youngest days and it was there that he received the bulk of his experience in warfare.And discovered he had something of a penchant for it. The adrenaline, the thrill, the feeling of honour and pride that came with walking the path of the warrior. And most of all the surge of being when one let the song of Khaine fill their bones and flow through their veins. 

He had taken many actions with his fellows. Gunned down orcs like the rabid beasts they were. Fought off imperial encroachment and slain daemons and self styled 'champions' of the great enemy in the name of his craftworld and his people. But with the nature of his craftworld and their ideology towards taking risk or aggresive action. Most combat is defensive. Or in the case where they do go on the offense, even that is usually just a pre-emtive strike to wittle down the enemy before a defensive action. 

Following this was a period of time to serve his people as an engineer. Attemtping, along with others to work on and improve the already respectable armour of the aspect warriors. Along with other projects all inpsired by his time served in the Dire Avengers. (spoiler alert, Not all that sucessful) This was by far the most agreeable path he had walked apart from those as a warrior. 

His second time walking the path of the warrior was far more brief. He served as a fire dragon. And it was during this time that he became the most aware of how the will of khaine was capable of influencing him. And what spurred him to shun the path of the warrior and enter into a period of meditation and reflection that nearly saw him become an outcast. Thinking that maybe if he managed to seperate himself from society that it might help him come to an understanding of himself. 

He tried to walk other paths between and after his service in two fo the craftworld's shrines. More 'civilian' paths that were admittedly fufilling in their own ways. But he still found himself jumping to answer the call of war whenever a troop of guardians needed to be assembled and action needed to be taken. At first he just assumed it was because he was craving an air of excitement that could only be offered on the battlefield. No where was the song of Khaine ringing louder and more clearly than during those moments. Like a chorus of noble, enlightened fury from a thousand eldar throats. He did not see rampant and sensless destruction spewing from the end of the fire dragons fusion blasters. He saw carefully a carefully aimed beam of eldar contempt and hatred to wipe out a foe. The terrifying screech of his banshee sisters was more singsong than harrowing. And the merciless scything of the dark reapers was in fact well focused justice of the bloody handed god being dispensed with impunity. 

It was a confusing and frankly disturbing exeprience because of that clarity. At first he was concerned that he was mistaking the excitement for battle with a possible corruption of the great enemy. The chaos god the Mon'keigh know as Khorne. A seed of infernal influence that was taking over his mind planted during some past battle against his deamon spawn. His own eagerness to enter into the fray was starting to worry him. And others around him. 

He responded with a self imposed exile from the battlefield. Spending the next two decades in meditation and contemplation. Seeking wisdom from the seers of the craftworld in an effort to ensure that this was not just his own enchroacing insanity. And it was the seers and sages of the craftworld that explained to him what they beleived the purpose of these perceptions was. 

All Eldar may hear the call of Khaine, it is in their blood as he is the very personification of his peoples violent and cold hearted tendancies. Some hear the call more strongly than others. Some only hear it for a period of time. Taking up the mantle of warrior for a few centuries before shrugging it off again. Only donning the armour of a guardian when it was absolutely necessary. And then there were those who felt the call so strongly they were incapable of tuning it out. It might wax and wane over the centuries but it would always be there, beckoning them back to the fields of war. Those who heeded the call so strongly that they became lost on the path of the warrior, incapable of ever stepping off it again. Exarchs. 

Exarchs were noble beings in eldar society, Respected and lauded but also reviled and pitied. Becoming lost on any path was not something many eldar aspired to do. Especially to become lost of the path of the warrior. To live a life devoid of meaning being duty and bloodshed. It was an insult to the refined nature of the eldar people. And Olanaer had never even considered that this might be his future. Where his enjoyment of battle may be leading him. He was too reviled by the idea to even consider it in his mind before it was spoken aloud to him.

To test this one seer proposed that he walk the path of the warrior again. To spend enough time in service to his people, at least two hundred more years. If during that time he found the call of Khaine to wane and die out and his old lust for war was to fade, than he would know that this path was not meant to be his only path. But if at the end of this trial period. He could not bring himself to step away from the path of the warrior. If the song rung as loudly as ever in his ears. Than this was likely to be his lot in life. To forever walk the warrior's path in service to his people as an exarch, And to ever answer the call of Khaela Mensha Khaine.

So he thought hard about which aspect of of the bloody handed god spoke most closely to him. Having already been a member of the craftworlds dire avengers and the fire dragons shrine he deigned not to rejoin them and instead focus on something new that would allow him to explore a new aspect of khaine Finally settling on the perfect agility and grace of the swooping hawks. Finding their philospohy of raining bright yet silent death down upon the foes of the eldar. It was a more refined form of combat that appealed to him greatly than the straightforward brutality of the fire dragons and the reapers. And it was more personal and engaging than the eagle pilots or crimson hunters.  


[/hider]