Idranel

This article contains PROMOTIONS! Don't say we didn't warn you.

Idranel.

Idranel is an Eldar Farseer from Dawn of War 2. Before the release of Dawn of War 2, she would frequent the threads and cuss out mon-keighs and uphold what it meant to be a true eldar: A racist bitch. Occasionally would call us "double mon-keighs" in which we would become extremely offended.

Her badass style of doing things led some to believe that she is actually a man, due to also the fact that her robes don't have any boob armor like the previous farseers. Nevertheless, she's earned our respect for being an honest fluffy eldar.

However, tragedy feel upon her when her screentime in Dawn of War 2 was revealed to be relatively short, and was killed off from the series.

Cue breakdown, as Idranel bawww'ed on our thread and we took pity for her trying so hard. Therefore, a writefag has written this /tg/ tale to keep her alive out of the "canon" series.

Also, originally she was supposed to not be seen as a sex object in any shape or form, but we succumbed. Instead, she's the next Tsundere, taking over Shadowsun in her place.

Dear 'Farseer' Part One

I am an avid reader of this column, but even so, I never thought something would happen to me, to inspire me to write a letter of my own. But, here I am, writing. So, let me tell you of my encounter with the mon-keigh I now call my own.

It started, as these things often do, with a vision. You have likely already heard of the Tyranid fleet that was scheduled to intercept my Craftworld, so I shall spare you the details of it - but I found myself engaged in a battle against these humans on one of their worlds, and things were going splendidly, and just as planned, until those unforgivable brutes the mon-keigh call their space marines involved themselves rather than gracefully accepting their fate. Again, sparing the details, I found myself defeated in battle at every turn - not just once, but twice did they get in my way, and after the second encounter, I found myself facing what I believed to be certain death! However, the strands of fate are fickle, and a mere coincidence left me with nothing more than a chainsword wound to the gut, and a few dozen broken bones - and those space marines left, without noticing my continued survival! At the time, I believed it a brief despite before my wounds would do me in, and it was not long before I lost consciousness.

But that was not to be. Apparently, I was found by a clean-up crew, and brought in secret to the newly established planetary governor, a female human going by the name of Derosa. Rather than interrogate me in ways most terrible, or turn me over to their foolish zealots, she - and this, she told me later - proceeded to have me brought in secret to her own quarters, and as again I opened my eyes, straining against the unexpected light, it was to her face. She had, with her own hands, set my broken bones and patched my wounds, cleaned me and watched by my side - I was, as I am certain any other readers would be, obviously shocked. Why would a mon-keigh do something like this? These are the apes, brutes, primitives that foil our plans whenever they can, that worship the corpse of their past leader - why would one of them take it upon themselves to cure and hide *me*?

I still remember her answer to my first question with perfect clarity, as were it yesterday, and I believe I always will. As I lay, my body still broken, and never one to inspire anyone to anything, she smiled - that smile, how could a mere mon-keigh have such a brilliant smile? - and spoke.

"Because you were beautiful."

Signed, Farseer Idranel.

(Editor's Note: Due to the unusual length of this letter, we will publish the remainder in our next issue. Stay tuned!)

Dear 'Farseer' Part Two

(Editor's Note: This is the second part of the letter. The first part was published in the previous issue of Farseer.)

"Because you were beautiful."

I was absolutely stunned. This woman had taken an enemy into her own quarters, and nursed her back to health, because she thought _I_ was beautiful? To begin with, I'm not! I'm completely flat-chested, my face looks like a man, and I was completely torn up! Remember, this was just days after almost being killed. My first reaction was to pull away - but that failed completely. Did I mention I'm clumsy, as well? I fell right off the bed, away from her, and I think I cracked another few ribs there. Finally, to add insult to injury, I had been naked beneath the covers, and I couldn't even move enough to cover myself! Putting aside the pain, I've never felt so humiliated as when she had to help me back into the bed. (Her own, it turned out.) I'm going to go ahead and admit it - I cried as she did so. But, when she had returned me to the bed, and replaced the covers, I also looked at her, for the first time. She was clearly a woman of authority - her clothes signified high office, though her hair was undone, and I found her rather.. soothing, to look at. I was exhausted, of course, but as I fell asleep, I think I felt her stroking my hair. She never did admit to it later, though.

Over the next few days, and weeks, I was confined to that bed, seeing none except her, except Derosa. She fed me until I could move well enough to eat on my own, and checked on my broken bones daily, changed my bandages and, cleaned my body - She is rather resourceful, and has unexpected skills when it comes to caring for the wounded. We spoke, of course, as she cared for me, but it was not until over a week had passed before I dared ask - about the tyranid, and from that of the fate of my home, my craftworld. Learning of the end of the hive fleet, I again confess to weeping - this time in relief. After that, my recovery was more rapid, and I could soon begin to move about her quarters, and change my own bandages, as well as handle other things on my own. She had no visitors, in all this time, and I believe I sensed a certain loneliness, to begin with. Even so, she always seemed bright, if not outright happy, when in my presence. As time passed, we would eat together, before she left for her official duties each morning, and then again in the evening, when she returned. And we would talk, of our homes. She had lost her family long ago, and had no close friends, or friends at all, except for those she worked with. I spoke of the craftworld, but strangely, felt no urging to return.

To my great wonder, I found myself as happy as I'd ever been, in that little world we shared.

Signed, Farseer Idranel.

(Editor's Note: This letter sure was a long one! You can read the next part in the next issue!)

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