I remember well, those millennium of old. Where the Dark Eldar were a feared foe in the galaxy. My appearance on the battlefield would cause dismay and whole armies would crumble at the thought of facing such a fast and ruthless enemy. They’d whisper to me, my Agoniser poised for the decapitation, “who are you, that could move so fast and strike so quickly”. Marines, those slow moving clumsy shoe-box bound men, whose tactic was to drive very quickly and storm out of their rhinos, rapid firing and assaulting. My warriors were cannon fodder to their bolters, but who was to care, for it lured them into harms way and the precious wyches would pounce, appearing from over the horizon, sqealing with joy as they fell on the hapless marines, left flat footed.
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