Editing Idranel (section)

==Another Idranel Badass Cunt story==
The battle to take the bunker had been quick, brutal and ultimately effortless. The Guardsmen stationed there were some of the best the Imperium had to offer, and had been anticipating the usual Eldar style of warfare, with every possible approach to the Imperial fortification heavily booby trapped to funnel Idranels army directly towards them. Expecting the Eldar force to be weakened and shell-shocked by the time it finally arrived from the various side-routes, the Imperials were unpleasantly surprised when Idranel simply pushed the entirety of her army straight towards the Bunker. There had been casualties, of course. And many other Eldar doubted the Farseer's overly aggressive tactics. But the bunker had been captured before it could send word of the assault, and that was all that mattered.

Idranel's eyes scanned across the line human warriors, each one kneeling submissively before an Eldar Guardian. Just as it should be, Idranel thought, as she strode into the room to address her captives. And, if need be, her own soldiers. The Eldar snapped to attention as she entered, fixing those guarding the human prisoners with a piercing glare. She had heard one or two of the Guardians questioning her orders, thinking them too brutal or unsympathetic, and Idranel planned on taking no chances.

“Disgusting things.” The Farseer muttered, gazing disdainfully at the human nearest her. Mid-way through his short, pointless life, his ugly features were further marred by patchy stubble and a number of scars around his dull, bovine eyes. Turning, Idranel addressed her Guardians.

“Some of you doubt my methods.” She said crisply. “Some of you think we should take…pity on these lower creatures. To minimise harm to them.” Idranel paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. One or two of the humans were staring up at her out the corners of their eyes, as if trying to make sense of the Eldar tongue. “Let me tell you this. The Mon-keigh are little better than Orks. They are both foul, barbaric monsters who run rampant across what was once our galaxy, who slay us out of ignorance, and bring war and death to all they touch. We would not show an Ork mercy. We shall not show a Mon-keigh mercy either. Each one of them we leave alive will breed, creating a new generation to impede our works.”

The Farseer fell silent again. Many of the Eldar she commanded had been under the control of Farseer Macha, transferred to her control after the other Farseer vanished off on one of her sulks. “Perhaps your views have been tainted by other, weaker Farseers.” Idranel said, her voice suddenly hardening. “Farseers who bring shame upon our race, who lower themselves to fraternising, or worse, copulating with these…base species.” Idranel gestured with the hilt of her staff towards the nearest captive.

“Things shall be different here. The Mon-keigh are to be wiped out wherever they are found. Spare none, be they armed or unarmed. Capture any officers you can for interrogation. There shall be no mercy, no pity, and love shall most certainly not bloom.”

Smoothly, Idranel switched to speaking in a highly accented low gothic. “You are but animals.” She said to the captives. “And you shall be slaughtered as animals.”

“Leave this one.” The Farseer said, returning to her own language and gesturing towards a human, his blood soaked uniform studded with a selection of medals. “I shall pull any useful information from his mind later. Execute the rest.”

There was an awkward, unpleasant silence as the Guardians looked nervously at each other. Before, as one, they primed their Shruiken catapults and fired.

Idranel turned away and smiled. She never grew tired of the sound of human lives ending. One day, she hoped, the last of the unworthy race would die, and the Eldar would return to their former glory.

The wraithbone runes hovered gently in front of Idranel’s face, illuminating her pale features with a soft, blue light. She drew a slender finger through them, watching as they shifted and changed in accordance with her divinations. Everything was playing out as she had foreseen. Her Rangers had informed her of the human traps set along the alternate routes to the bunker, and Idranel had chosen to act as if she had already known. Truthfully, she simply did not have the patience to orchestrate such an attack when a simple thrust to the enemy gut would suffice.

A noise from the corner interrupted her thought. The human officer had been restrained, ironically enough with the crude manacles the Imperials themselves used for detaining captives. Idranel had made quite sure the metal bands were tight enough to cut into his wrists. Sighing under her breath, Idranel waved a hand through the runes, their light dimming as the wraithbone scrying symbols gently floated down to rest.

“You’re going to kill me.” The officer said.

“Yes. Eventually.”

“After you’ve plumbed me for information, huh? What’cha got hidden up those delicately embroidered sleeves? Planning a nice torture session, get me to betray my sacred oaths to the Emperor?”

“I don’t need to.” Idranel’s lip curled in disgust as she turned to the shackled human. He had been stripped to the waist, exposing the injuries he had sustained in the attack. Some of them had been cleaned, and had sported simple bandages until the Farseer had removed them. She suspected one of the two Guardians she had set to preparing the man had attempted to care for him. Idranel resolved to find out which one and discipline them accordingly. The Farseer walked over, reaching out to wrap a hand around the neck of her captive. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

“S-strong grip for…for a pansy-ar-armed xenos w-w-witch…” The incessant noise of the human broke threatened to break Idranel’s concentration.

“Be silent.” The Farseer replied, suppressing her anger. “Nothing you say has worth. A dignified silence would mark your passing far better than whatever petty insults you lay upon me.”

“Say, m…maybe the r-reason you’re so strong is…is ‘cause you’ve got a nice pair down below.” The human choked out. Idranel could almost imagine his porking face, leering down at her. “I-I mean, you’re flat enough up…up top…”

Reaching with her other hand, Idranel grabbed a handful of his hair, drawing her captives head forwards and slamming it into the concrete wall as hard as she could. The human went limp instantly, a small line of blood dribbling from the back of his skull. With him finally silenced, Idranel pushed aside the unconscious human’s weakened mental barriers, and began to plunder his mind. She saw his name, his friends, his family and his homeworld. The tears of his wife as he departed off to war, the laughter of his children as he played with them one last time. All irrelevant, all meaningless flashes of life from a meaningless creature. She tore the memories away and obliterated them as thoughtlessly as she would swat a parasite, pushing deeper. There. Troop movements, deployment schedules, listings of armour divisions and locations of the localised Imperial command network.

Idranel cut the mind-meld, withdrawing from the human. Gliding across the room, she produced a silken cloth, wetting it and gently cleaning her hands of the human filth and sweat that had accumulated from touching him. Even her mouth felt dirty from conversing, however briefly, in his language.

“Huh? Wh…where…who…” The human was awakening. Idranel turned to him, watching his slack-jawed face twist this way and that, trying to make sense of his situation with the fragmented, scattered memories Idranel had left in the wake of her mental assault. The Farseer had tolerated him long enough.

Smoothly, she drew her Shruiken Pistol and shot him in the throat. Her runes leapt back into the air with a simple pulse of thought. The information she had torn from the mind of the now cooling body slumped against the wall would confirm what her scrying had told her.

There was much work to be done. Idranel looked forward to it.