OOC: Hello there, it's me, your author. I do admit that I have been advertising this character a lot lately; a rebellious Eldar corsair inspired by Lord Byron's work. Since I am too sick to write anything proper, I chose to write this experimental fanfiction to see how my idea will work out in form of an epic poem, for it is far easier to write poetry for me than prose. Introduction is meant to be short, merely to let me know what you are thinking of the idea. Enjoy your read!

" In the vast darkness of the void old,

Among it's gaze freezing and cold,

Among stars, burning and fiery,

There everyone, hears of our bravery,

There our destiny, there our path;

To let the mon-keigh feel our wrath;

Those, who among craftworlds crystalline spire,

To escape she-who thirsts desire,

To eat their souls among warp's wrath,

Follow set in front of them path;

Those, who in Comorragh's darkest corners,

Engage in orgies of violence and murders,

Knowing that torturing others they must;

So treacherous, that no one can another trust,

Lets he would be stabbed in the back,

In the darkest corners of city black,

Or die in an arena, like a common animal,

To satisfy Commorite's for blood call;

They know not the freedom stars give;

Freedom among which we thrive;

Unbound by ruins of our old empire;

Unbound by She – who – thirsts ire;

Fallen gods, warp's heirs,

Eternally scheming farseers,

Navigating the solar winds;

Fighting monsters in all their kinds;

Tyranid hive fleets, which like swarm of ants,

Fall on planets in horde of scythes and gaunts,

What can we gain, if not eternal glory?

That will be written in every Aeldari's memory? "

In Haven Spire, above a gas giant,

Which gleamed in warm, purple light

On a moon against twin suns burning ire,

Lied a single, enormous Haven Spire,

Was sung this song, among corsairs,

As they were busy with their own affairs;

One splinter rifle polished and cleansed

Every piece of dirt on the barrel ended,

Blood of Astrates, and Lord Commissar,

he wiped off, sitting against the burning star;

Another a generator circular and broad,

Attached to shining blade of his power sword

Ornamented blade, shining like mirror,

Reflecting the stars themselves in all their splendour,

Clean and beautiful, like the winter ice,

Not a single scratch on the blade's surface

A blade that among it's thundery glow

Felled an Ork Warboss with a single blow

As outside the window, outside the star-fort

A single cruiser attached itself to the port

The inquisitor, who seen many battles in his life;

Among his three hundred years in this era of strife,

Upon entering the station, had to admit,

Realization, which his head instantly hit,

That though he burned heretics legions endless,

None of them were as terrifying, as this princess,

Standing on each side flanked by a ranger,

In black - yellow armor, signifying danger...

Her face bright, long and narrowing down,

On it two piercing eyes like gems brown,

Deeply set, but with predatory gaze,

Guarding the entry to her soul's maze,

Red hair, like a burning gown,

Behind her head freely flown,

Tall she was, with a thin figure,

But extreme agility hid behind this posture,

Wrapped in black - yellow Ghostplate armor

Scarred with scratches, the wounds of valor;

Which she personally took from an Archon she killed,

Whose head with a fusion pistol she grilled.

Former autarch, after with Farseers quarrel,

Left to become an outcast living by gun's barrel,

The inquisitor, had to admit, even as many world's liberator

In this room - the Eldar was the apex predator.

"Inquisitor" sounder her melodic voice;

"I am glad that you have again made the choice,

For even before, when you hired me times thrice,

No matter the foe, my skills always did suffice,

And your mon-keigh heretic, or mutant it was;

By my blade always it's doom met has;

But as you may know, my blade isn't cheap;

Name your price, and I will your foes reap!"

By carapace armor covered, his hand,

Gestured to his escort, to open a box and,

All kinds of gems, beautiful diamonds,

And a long blade, decorated with lions,

But to quell such dangerous heresy's vice,

What was the price that will not suffice?

"Here, Xeno is your pay"

The inquisitor spoke, not hiding dismay,

But in the schola, and even after,

He learned not to discard an asset like her

"This should your satisfaction meet,

For so happens, I am in need of deniable asset.

A convoy will pass, very soon,

By Japheth V's third moon;

It carries a packages, inside transporters each,

That I would rather not have it's destination reach;

Unfortunately, it's owner's uncle is a powerful inquisitor;

Who holds entire Segmentum in awe and terror;

It would be for my person a terrible voe;

Had I by accident made him my foe.

With the rest? Do what you will,

But those packages for me you steal!"

"Your terms are accepted, Inquisitor;

I shall bring your foes death and terror;

I shall strike them with all the fury of Uldanesh,

Burning their very bodies to ash;

As for your crates, about them worry not;

For they swiftly, to you will be brought!"

The swift song describing foe's bane,

Her melodic, soft voice sounded again...

The inquisitor left the corsair's lair,

While Yizreel corrected her burning hair,

And with loud voice called her crew;

It was time to leave - on a hunt new!