Rain.
Hot rain encompassed the world, it thundered down in a ceaseless torrent, cascading from the treetops in twisting waterfalls. All that could be seen was greenery distorted by a wall of water. Eranaduelle had never experienced anything like it. Back on her craftworld she was an artist, spending hours at a time perched above some beautiful garden or structure capturing the elegant curves and colours as the holo-sun's rays poured onto the whole scene. The call to war had been an awakening to her about the cruel nature of the galaxy, and although she had extensive training in the art of war, Eranaduelle could never get used to the smell of the wretched, war loving humans.
She put her ranger long-rifle's crosshairs over the head of a mon-keigh soldier she had been watching, aiming to eliminate the rear of the patrol. She brought her battle focus to a deadly point, and twitched the trigger. A pulse of light blazed, tore through the canopy, and split the unfortunate guardsman's head in two. The patrol scattered in dissolution, two dived for cover while the remaining few simply ran for their miserable lives. Bringing her rifle to bear Eranaduelle refocused her sights on a runner, and separated his head from his shoulders with another hyper-velocity needle. The forest fell silent except for the rain, and she uttered a silent curse as she peered though her scope at the fallen tree the remaining two guardsmen were using as cover. The humans were awfully predictable, so she waited for one of them to become curious enough to peek over the log. Sure enough, a khaki helmet began to rise from behind the mossy tree, and her trigger finger tensed. Behind her scope, Eranaduelle raised a sweat soaked eyebrow. As the helmet continued to rise, it appeared to be held aloft by a stick, a pitiful attempt to draw her fire. Clearly they intended to bunker down. Eranaduelle sighed, raised her rifle, and slid from her vantage point in the bough of a tree to the soaked forest floor.
As Eranaduelle squelched softly to the ground, she was met by her makeshift campsite. A small bedroll hidden partially under a massive rain-smooth boulder. next to it she had a small storage container with her food rations, spare weapons, spare ammunition, and a few personal mementos such as a picture of her brother. He was her last family member, and now he was on the other side of the galaxy fighting on some other front against the enemies of the craftworld. Nearby were her clothes hopefully drying next to her heat emulator under a thick limb of the tree. She had shed her mesh armour and chameleoline cloak long ago finding the thermoplas of her semi-liquid suit only served to heighten the unending heat. Besides, only dead humans and the trees could see her out here in her silk underclothes. She had been camping here for nine solar days eliminating outlying Imperial Guard forest patrols for her Warhost.
Following the path of the outcast, she was not expected to take part in the battles directly, but she was sometimes called upon by her craftworld in times of war for reconnaissance and sniper support. Glancing around her, Eranaduelle sighed in disgust at how humid, hot, wet and dirty this planet was, she was dripping with rain and sweat, and hadn't bathed in days. She would have to find a source of clean water soon or her camp would be detected just from her rancid smell. Leaning her rifle against the tree she retrieved her shuriken pistol and ritual blade from her belongings and began skulking off through the dense brush in the direction of the surviving guardsmen before they realise
they could have escaped long ago.
While the foliage of the forest floor was easy enough for a lithe eldar to navigate, the sloshy mud proved a nuisance in slowing her progress. Eranaduelle reflected on her current situation with arrogant disgust while she moved to intercept her quarry.
When she left her craftworld in search of adventure and to escape their strictual teachings, she had imagined infiltrating space marine fortress monasteries, navigating the webway, and traversing necron tomb worlds, not laying in the mud of some thrice forsaken jungle planet for weeks on end. Although she did not regret her decision to leave, she found a galaxy out to get her was not the fun and games she had imagined as a young child.
Eranaduelle's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as she sensed movement just ahead. Freezing in place, she lowered to a crouch and focused her thoughts on the hunt. Gripping her blade, she silently crept through the bushes, her sleek form almost catlike as she easily navigated the dense foliage. Suddenly Eranaduelle spotted the gleam of two gun barrels poking out from behind an unassuming boulder no more than twenty yards away. Cursing audibly, she dived for cover just as the tree trunk she was standing in front of splintered from lasfire. She became suddenly aware of her spirit stone as it pulsed on her necklace, being so close to death always made it flare. Quickly getting her feet back under her, she strafed around to try to flank the human's position before they come looking for her. Mere seconds slipped by before an armed guardsman came rushing out of his cover armed with a bulky combat knife and lasgun firing and slashing blindly where she used to be, only to find her blade embedded in his back. Eranaduelle withdrew her dagger and swung around to face the second guardsman. This one was obviously the leader of the patrol. Armed with a curved cutlass and laspistol, this human was markedly smarter than his underling as he could see rushing the agile eldar was his comrade's last mistake. Eranaduelle was suddenly struck by the strange thought that she'd been caught in her underclothes, but she dismissed the thought and aimed her pistol at the human just before he struck it from her hand with the flat of his sword. Springing into action, she twirled her blade in her fingers before parrying his backhanded swing, immediately she cut into his pistol arm in a deadly riposte. Being significantly more agile than a human meant she could easily dodge his attacks and dance around his sloppy footwork. It only took one mere slip up and the sergeant would be dead. As if in response, lightning crashed overhead, the sudden distraction put the mon-keigh off balance and Eranaduelle's dagger sliced easily through his thigh. He let out a guttural howl and clutched his wound as the rain mixed with his blood. She used the reprieve to dive for her pistol and fire a salvo of shurikens across his torso, effectively shredding through metal and flesh alike.
Panting quietly, Eranaduelle gathered herself, stood tall and nodded as if in acceptance of her handiwork. Cleaning her blade on the guardsman's slacks, she clutched her soulstone for comfort. While trudging back through the mud to her camp, all she could think was, "will this twice damned rain ever end?"