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I failed to start an article on my Eldar fluff so Im posting it here instead.
I have converted and scratch built a number of IG (ish) type vehicles but couldnt bring myself to build and paint the army. So I came out with the plan to use them and some more planned into a friends of Eldar army where a lost ranger is called to help a farseer who has basically almost made his craftworld extinct and has mainly a dead army (wraiths) and calls in all of his past aquantainses, the same sort of story as half a dozen different samuri films - heres the fluff

Ystagrdd stood there looking over what would be the final battle, the deepest cut, the destruction of the last cancer that would heal this world that would let health return to the land and let fresh air to the lungs of the plants and maybe just maybe let one of the old worlds the maiden worlds resurrect itself and become a solidness for a space roaming craftworld to set new foundations.

Ystagrdd the Autarch,it still made her conscious mind ache whenever she heard those words spoken or thought, there could be no recall when the path of command was chosen for the path did the choosing in more subtle ways than even her Eldar mind had detected only a seer could have predicted a warrior destined more for the life of an Exarch would fall and be subtly re born and re shaped to see beyond the moment and to victory through guile and employment of arms from the first song of battle to the last notes of its requiem. To be favoured as an Autarch. To become the sum of her experiences.
She who had shun her craftworld and wandered as an outcast was now leading the final bombardment of a different craftworld upon the last vestiges of the green skin hoard. Her path had been a treacherous one with many twists and turns which many times had almost lot her, her mind.

It began many, many years ago, she had lived through the battle of the burning moon fighting under Prince Yriel of Iyandon as a Dark reaper, the chaos threat had been vanquished and the seers were singing the lament of the dead and collecting up spirit stones. Ystagrdd had stood idle trapped upon a fleet ship whilst the skill and weaponry of pilots and guidance of Yriel had danced around death and sent the enemy forces into the black oblivion of nothingness.
As a guardian she had sought the path of the warrior, she found that path within the ranks of the fire dragons but having mastered the twists and turns of the flames searing touch and honed skills in battle rendering many an enemy’s armour to nought but molten slag her mind thirsted for more sensation for differing exhilaration so she shunned the broadsword of the fusion gun for the scalpel of the reaper autocannon, picking out a canker at distance and removing it with devastating precision. But mastery of that discipline and toying in practice why others defeated the chaos fleet had left a mental void as real as the physical void of space aching to be filled. So a new path as an outcast, as a ranger had taken her and thrust her upon a galaxy of difference and indifference.
She saw many things, toyed with many races and their technology, fought, travelled, absorbed, made friends with unwise companions, always knowing it was for a reason, never knowing why. Only occasionally having craftworld contact swapping information, collecting and exchanging artefacts. She spent time with other rangers and pathfinders honing skills, mastering stealth, infiltration, patience, disruption and the silent darkness of the assassin. even occasionally watching others at war with each other, seeing ,learning, remembering But never being satisfied and always feeling lost. In later life she would refer to this as the time of learning and leading.

Then one night when nearby rifts in the warp were forcing painful blank holes in her mind to fill with pain and emptiness in equal frustration a distant voice called to her.
" the last mind I reached for the last eyes i filled with myself were that of Eldrad Uthran but now i need a warrior not a seer, not a witch, not a void of physical thought, a warrior a doer of deeds, a blade with which to cut down our enemies, I am Ynnead and i give to you my rune, the symbol of my weaponry, the swerve of my halberd, the blade of my sword and the point of my spear, you will need this rune, you will take this rune, you will go now to a place of spirit warriors, you will know where and you will know with who"
For a while Ystagrdd did nothing and rangers all bearing the mark of Thrathe a craftworld beyond her knowledge came to her all claiming they had been told to do so by a hooded seer. The final ranger came demanding that the chosen one and her strange entourage follow him to a distance place.

Ystagrdd had made many acquaintances during her wanderings, had fought and thought with many wanderers, many mercenaries, many misfits, with many skills; and for some reason driven by forces beyond her understanding she gathered these close to her on the way and ushered them to the same end. Without question they moved as one to a world at war. Some for excitement, some for reward, some because their home craftworld called then, one because a voice from the void pulled them there. A more eclectic bunch of star travellers and their trappings had never moved across the cosmos before.
-
Hurayan of the Thrathe had claimed a planet to be one of the maiden worlds but coming to it had found it spoiled by the green skin plague of the Ork and gone to arms. Unfortunately the green tide had been to numerous and the farseer to proud to tactically retreat despite many years of predicting the movement of the dirty stomp of the Ork infiltration. There were simply too many. The Eldar losses had been almost complete.

The farseer had seen the error of his ways in a vision and had halted hostilities awaiting the arrival of a great warrior, a warrior who could win wars from afar using weaponry that would cut down the green skin numbers without direct engagement a dark reaper that would command war machines and move mountains with tier fire power, a warrior names Ystagrdd.

Ystagrdd was confused but alight with sparks of adrenalin, endorphin and psychic resonance. She stood before a seer who commanded a host of wraith constructs moving to the spirit stones of long dead hero’s, a handful of guardians, wall after wall of war machines and warlocks, lots of warlocks. She had a few outcasts at her side from many different paths, Eldar and human and the whole war host expected a miracle for it had been seen. She was proffered as being that miracle.
Ystagrdd told then to forgo their old path and mark themselves with the rune of Ynnead. then the hard slog began with the skills of the ranger, the courage of the warlocks, the predictions of the seers and the might of the machines the green stain was cut down to numbers that became more desperate as their leaders and their larger constructs were vaporised or left burning under the guidance and experience of Ystagrdd.

Then the engagement became up close and personal, the brutish force, the attacks without finesse, the fetid stench of muscle bound warriors were abhorrent to every sense of the Eldar and there was no honour gained and no skill required in culling these monsters, without numbers on their side the fight was unbalanced, but it had to be done.
So it came to last fetid Ork stronghold a mess of steel and stone surrounded by cannon and trench with massive vehicles brimmed with rocket and fire waiting to bloody any enemy with smashing, leaden force. Ystagrdd is not afraid, the Ork has built this grave under a backdrop of cliffs and mountains thinking that the protection of granite will shield their rear from the fire of the Eldar and from the attack of its skimmers. To Ystagrdd it just provides some ballast to drop on Ork head. The means to bring them into the open to be cut down like weeds. The former follower of Maugan Ra knew how to engage an enemy. She had done it before many times.
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Such is the abridgement of how we come to this day - The stories of Ystagrdd will be passed through the infinity circuits for eternity, the stories of the wandering, the stories of the meetings, the stories of mind sharing with Ynnead and yes the many stories of the eradication of the Ork spoilers. The stories that lead to the re birth of Thrathe who will forever be known as the dreaded lance from these days forward. Though now so few of numbers whether it can endure is a new story in the making.

THRATHE the DREADED LANCE
Favoured by Maugan Ra and blessed with mighty war constructs Thrathe relies upon the skills of the returned outcast rangers to guide; and the surgical bombardment and out flanking of an enemy before committing huge numbers of wraithguard to send enemies into the oblivion of the warp to be tore asunder by powers too dread to commit to speech. Guardians of this once near depleted craftworld are few in number and not risked lightly. The warrior path is more than often shunned with such affairs managed by warlocks and wraiths. To many spirit stones had been gathered before by war and the witch powers had re animated entire legions of terror, creating wave upon wave of wraithguard .
It is said that on rare occasions Ynnead god of the dead has been seen rising and aiding the walking dead of the Thrathe in the form of a half wraithbone half she Eldar towering above her foes and then returning to the immaterium in a swirl of skull and mist when sated on enemy losses or as Eldar losses lessen.
Unusually for Eldar armies there is also a small contingent of non Eldar allies that are held in high esteem deployed as shock troops delivering their pain through em0loyment of many and varied weaponries and vehicles. though not entirely trusted by the seer council they are kept close to and entrusted with the loyalty of Ystagrdd an Autarch of the Thrathe. When challenged she always answers "they know not the art of war nor the depths of free thought but they own seeds of violence and need know only the ground upon which to sow them" If alien loyalty is challenged her answer is even shorter "was it not a farseer who bought doom to your last loyalty?"

There is an entire section for this "Dakka Fiction"
A MID should be along shotyl to move it... or not it's their choice really.

I'm not a MID and not shotyl, but I'll move it anyhow - MT11

Sorry Tom but the gods of fail have decreed that this day that is what you are...
As soon as i figure out how to work my fingers i'll spell things correctly...