You are Cyric, a retired Imperial Guardsman, former scout of the Tanith First-and-Only. After liberating the planet Agryllin IV of evil xenos, you were selected as part of the conquering army to settle the world for Emperor and Imperium.

Now, you make a living as a hunter and trapper for the imperial governor. Your cabin is in a local forest, a modest hike from the nearby settlement, in a location unblemished by human colonization of the planet.

The night before, you saw a strange craft streak across the night sky. Before you could identify it, a burst of autocannon fire from a hydra flak tank swatted it from the sky. Assuming it belonged to an unfortunate smuggler, you thought nothing else of the event. At least, you didn't until you grabbed your Long-Las and headed out into the forest to hunt.

What you came across was a crashed single person craft, not of human design. Runes remain apparent on the wreckage. These runes seem sinister, almost evil, and just looking at the remains of the crashed craft send a shiver of fear up your spine. A set of terms you've only heard in veiled rumors enters your thoughts, Dark Eldar, also called Drukhari.

Just then, you hear a low moaning sound. Trapped under the wreckage is an alien. Freeing it, you see a woman, human-like, but not human. Long red hair, pointed ears, and pallid skin, the sight takes your breath away. Even in her wounded state, she radiates an inhuman elegance and poise, and retains a predatory aura. There's no doubt in your mind, she's one of the Eldar, or perhaps of their twisted kin, given the barbed armor she wears.

Taking leave of your senses, you pick up the wounded alien and take her back to your cabin, binding her wounds and cleaning her up.

A day passes, and your guest finally stirs. You keep your laspistol handy as she awakens. She jolts up, slowed by her wounds as she looks around the cabin before she settles her gaze on you, "Monkeigh..." she mutters, the venom apparent in her voice.