He was the first of his kind, and is the last of the Cythai still alive. All Ionrach bow before him, their one acknowledged leader, the eldest and greatest of their race.
The Idoneth Deepkin are a mysterious race of aelves who dwell within the oceans of the Mortal Realms, emerging from their watery seclusion to plunder the souls of land-dwellers. Guided by the eldritch insight and tidal magics of a Soulscryer, the eyeless Namarti advance into battle, cutting a path for arrogant Akhelian nobles mounted atop deadly aquatic beasts that swim through the air on phantasmal currents.
Namarti Reavers provide the archers and scouts for the Idoneth Deepkin phalanxes.
It is the Tidecasters who conjure the phantasmal sea that allows aelf and aquatic beast to move and breathe as if they were in their own natural environment.
Idolised echoes of a bygone era, the Eidolons of Mathlann are summoned to life in times of dire need. These are no divine avatars, however, but collective manifestations of the ancestral souls of the Idoneth Deepkin, spirits of vengeance wrapped in the image of a lost aelven god.
Shrugging off enemy missiles, the Akhelian Leviadon plunges into the fray. Scythed fins dismember foes while the beast’s powerful jaws clamp down with enough force to crush tempered steel.
No troops exemplify the Idoneth Deepkin way of life more than the Akhelian Guard. Mounted atop Fangmora Eels, they fight in a loose formation ideal for rapid assaults and sudden retreats, typifying the hit-and-run style of war common amongst the aelves of the depths.
At first they appear as spectral blurs in the ethersea, distant streamlined shapes that seem to materialise from nowhere. With powerful thrusts of their sickle-finned tails, the forms grow all too quickly as they launch their attack
In the craft of murder, Wyches have no equal. In battle, Wyches feed upon screams of pain.
The Drukhari rely heavily on surprise and raw speed, and hence their skycraft are all fast and manoeuvrable.
The Talos Pain Engines are seen as the pinnacle of the Haemonculi's art. Creations of mad genius, each one is part organic and part mechanical, festooned with surgical apparatus and horrible-looking weapons of war.
A rich and daring Drukhari may surrender himself to the Haemonculi, requesting that his bones be hollowed out, that bands of new muscle be grafted onto his torso, and powerful wings and adrenaline dispensers be attached to his shoulders so that he is capable of true flight.