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Hey all,

I've started on the fluff for my Dark Eldar army and I'd like to share the first part with you. I'm looking for all comments to improve the story and feel of this piece of background; storyline, spelling/grammar, conflicts with canon.


Kabal of the Shrouded Skin

With a quick twist she pulled her rapier free from the last remaining eye of the slave and sheeted
the thin blade, blood dripping along her exposed thigh. "When will these filthy creatures learn to
avert their gaze?"

Self-proclaimed Countess Ethlynn initially made her name in the Cult of Lhamaea, the cult dedicated
to the Dark Muse Lhilitu, Consort of the Void. Lhilitu achieved a god-like standing among the Dark
Eldar by perfecting the arts of intimacy and physical beauty in all their depraved forms.
From the day of her first kill, Ethlynn steadily rose in power within the lower Wyche cults supported
by the Cult of Lhamaea. Her natural beauty and discontempt for any rival foolish enough to cross her
path quickly rewarded Ethlynn with the title of Syren in the Cult of the Jagged Blade, her skill keeping
her pale skin free of the even the smallest scratches.

In three hundred cycles, Ethlynn survived and dispatched of twenty-six assassins, some of whom
had already slaughtered her entire entourage to gain acces to their target. The twenty-seventh would
be her last.
Ethlynn walked out of the arena, content with the chanting of her name that still filled the colosseum.
In the catacombs it was completely silent, save for the familiar hum caused by the combat drugs wearing
off. In a split-second, Ethlynn recognised the sound of splitting air. Only her natural reflexes caused the
attacker's blade to bury itself in the polished, black wall. A lightning skirmish which lasted only seconds
saw the assassin dead on the floor. Ethlynn recognised the rival Wyche and laughed as she let her fingers
run through her hair. Suddenly her expression froze. As she looked at her fingers, she saw blood, not
the blood of her rival.
Her reflection in the polished wall showed a shallow cut along the side of her face, perhaps four inches
wide. She knew exactly what this meant...

Within the year she had lost all her standing within the cult. Ethlynn was furious and her former over-
confidant composure changed to something bordering a wild insanity. Her anger grew everyday,
climaxing with increasing frequency in terrifying episodes of rage which left dozens of slaves and Eldar
alike dead and horribly disfigured.


Part Two

As time went by, Ethlynn's self-destructive behaviour caused her to lose more and more control of
herself. With every day, Slaanesh's grip on the former Syren grew stronger. She Who Thirsts began to
manifest herself in Ethlynn's dreams and with that, her dreams grew increasingly darker. One fateful
night when Ethlynn allowed herself to sleep, she entered a hellish nightmare.
For what seemed like an eternity she was subjected to unimaginable horrors. Clawed she-fiends tore at
her flesh while an insane laughter resounded in her head. Ethlynn screamed and screamed but there
truly was no escape. She begged for a death that would never come.

Ethlynn suddenly awoke, drenched in her own sweat.
When she realised what had happend, only a single emotion filler her thought; relief. Her relief was,
however, short-lived as she realised what she had seen. She had seen her own fate.
Horrified by what would happen should she ever fall, Ethlynn made a choice. There was only a single
way in which she would have chance of avoiding the inevitable nightmare afterlife. With a small group
of Dark Eldar who still recognised her leadership, she moved into one of the abandoned towers in the
outer ring of Commorragh. As she send her followers out on their missions, Ethlynn herself travelled
to the Aelin District, home of her former Cult of the Jagged Blade.

Although Ethlynn had no idea how long she had been away, apparently not that much time had past. As
she walked through the cult's entrance, a few Eldar recognised her. Although she could indeed be
recognised, it was only barely. Her composure had changed again. This time the wild look of only a short
while ago had changed into an emotionless and distant gaze. Her hair had a green shine and her teeth
seemed to have grown longer and sharper.
More notably, her once nearly naked body was now covered in elegant plates of ghost armour, leaving
barely any skin exposed. From between the greyish blue armour plates came a faint purple glow. The
glow bathed the reborn Ethlynn in an unnatural light, reflecting in her pale eyes.

More to come, please feel free to comment!

I like this. I like this a lot.

Thanks Klawz


I've appended the OP with Part numero dos. Feel free to comment, I'm actually less happy with the second part, although I can't put my finger on it.

Really really cool.


only one thing I noticed, Change "Faithful night" to "fateful night"

Thanks!

and edited, I get those mixed up sometimes