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A little peek into a possible future before the Ork Codex appears Warhammer 50K - The Shape of The Nightmare To portal7.info МБ. >Harlequins Codex PDF . >mfw I ordered the Harlie codex and cards at a local shop portal7.info The Harlequins are a faction of the Eldar, and the most enigmatic of that illustrations and images from the Warhammer world and Warhammer 40, universe.

Codex Harlequins 8th - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read Codex: Harlequins, GW, Games Workshop, Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer. This was Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, known to the Eldar as She Who Thirsts, . The Harlequins worship a being known as Cegorach, the Laughing God, also When choosing an army to play a game of Warhammer 40, Codex: Harlequins, Gw, Games Workshop. Space Marine, 40K, Warhammer, Warhammer 40, the 'Aquila' Double- headed Eagle logo, and all associated .

SO the Ynnari seem just better, right? SInce you can put most other eldar in that army anyway? Goddamnit, GW, this is the first thing I've seen that I don't like. Vote Up0Vote Down June 1, AM Guest Yeah, that's dumb too, but I'm more concerned about the ability to take 'basically all the things' under one united faction. Which I guess you probably could already, but this makes it easier with shared keywords and whatnot. Most of the time it puts you in a position to take chances and generally get tabled by a savy opponent.

Decrepit Dakkanaut Vallejo, CA Firstly, corporations or limited liability firms, as in the case of the UK are like cats: they do what they want, and whining at them doesn't change anything. Secondly, the world or 40k when it came to rules was already bizzarly complex. Each army had special rules, chapter approved and white dwarf meant that you needed endless suppliments, etc.

The point of GW is to make a standardized game with a standardized fluff that is relatively accessible to people, and allows for reasonably fast-paced wargames to be played I've heard the stories of 2nd ed games taking all day to play a thousand points.

If everybody who had an idea demanded that their idea become official, the game would be more unwieldy than the imperium itself. Therion wrote: I'm not even sure what the original poster wants. Some kind of validation This is the real problem. Everybody under the age of 30 including me was told that we were special and that we all had unique potential and blah blah.

Everybody under the age of 25 has had the internet to publish their wonderful snowflake uniqueness under the illusion that people accept and appreciate whatever drivel they've put online.

Now yes, fans are perfectly capable of creating some really good ideas I've had a few myself , and if they were implemented the game would probably be better. The problem is that GW cannot possibly afford the bureaucracy of sifting out all the stupid ideas and then being able to carefully reintegrate them without things going back to the days of bloated and non-user-friendly.

As such, as was stated, you can always do stuff on your own so long as it doesn't breach GW copyright and you dont' live in the US. You can make up any rules or implement any of your great ideas and have a good time with it all.

While depicted as an enigmatic Where a single Harlequin in battle is a player and sinister trickster whose deeds are far from upon a stage, an entire army of them is a altruistic, Cegorach is also the sworn enemy performing company with a bloody tale to of the Dark Gods of Chaos, and of Slaanesh tell.

Known as masques, these warbands fight in particular. It was Slaanesh — known to the with breathtaking synchronicity. Troupes Aeldari as She Who Thirsts — who destroyed of Harlequins sprint across the battlefield, their ancient empire and doomed their surging from hidden webway portals to peoples to a slow and torturous decline. Thus strike without warning. Yet spinning star bolas. Explosions blossom one They strike without warning, wreaking the true fools are they who after another, their roar a deafening crescendo devastation before vanishing as suddenly as judge the Harlequins at face accompanied by the howl of Starweaver they came.

The Harlequins have slaughtered value, who underestimate transports and Voidweaver gunships zealous cults, assassinated mighty Chaos their murderous malice and opening fire. Sometimes these their cause. They are you a corpse in the making. Death Jesters send volleys and if they are concerned with the survival of Craftworld Saim-Hann of fire to cut down key targets, always with of any species in the galaxy, ultimately it is an eye for what cruel humour they can find their own.

Enigmatic Shadowseers use their phantasmic powers to terrify and misdirect, The duties of the masques extend beyond drowning the enemy in nightmare visions, warfare. Cegorach is a trickster god, by turns mocking, Exodite worlds and the Dark City of sinister, vindictive and enigmatic.

His pranks punish gods and mortals alike for Commorragh. The story goes that, while Slaanesh fought with Kaela captivate Aeldari audiences. Mensha Khaine, the Laughing God escaped into the webway and hid amongst its myriad tunnels. These tales suggest that he remains there still, unassailable, laughing The Harlequins perform for more than at the Gods of Chaos as he hatches bitter plans for revenge.

Every show they put on is a lesson and a cautionary tale, There are those who claim that Cegorach walks amongst his children from time to a fragment of the culture of the ancient time, wearing the disguise of an anonymous Harlequin Player. Whatever the truth of Aeldari presented as a reminder and a such tales, the Laughing God is the only authority that the Harlequins recognise as warning to their modern descendants.

The most important dance that the Harlequins perform is the tale of the Fall, the monstrous spiritual apocalypse during which Slaanesh was birthed and the Aeldari all but annihilated. Their vivid performances ensure that the horrors of that time will never be forgotten, and its mistakes never repeated. The Harlequins have other duties, also.

They stalk the webway, seeking to excise the taint of Chaos and alien invasion wherever it is found. They guard the vast repository of forbidden lore known as the Black Library, preventing its dangerous secrets from falling into the hands of those who would do great harm with them.

Now, though, the Harlequins face a new peril. The webway, always a fractured and hazardous realm, has been sorely damaged by the opening of the Great Rift. Alien invaders and Chaos-worshipping interlopers spill through its sundered gates in numbers never before seen, endangering all that the Harlequins are and all they strive to achieve. As the danger grows greater, so the masques become ever more vicious and manipulative, calling in favours long owed and committing whatever atrocities they must in the name of the Laughing God.

The galaxy was theirs to lord over and to explore as they saw fit, and no enemy existed that they could not vanquish with ease. Their rule seemed destined to last in perpetuity, yet it all came to an end in a single moment of unimaginable horror. The golden age of the Aeldari began in a time before Humanity had as did the unburdened and uninhibited exploration of sensory even discovered the gift of fire.

Their elegant fleets plied the void, input and hedonism. They possessed unparalleled The Aeldari had always worshipped a broad pantheon of powerful mastery of the webway, the labyrinth dimension whose tunnels deities, enshrining their symbolism and teachings within every spread across the galaxy like the capillaries of a living being, aspect of their daily lives. Yet gradually, as their power became allowing the Aeldari to cross the stellar void in a matter of days. Their worship of the gods waned, living race, the Aeldari soon stood in mastery over much of replaced by narcissism and devotion to self-proclaimed prophets of the galaxy.

In that time, the Aeldari lived fulfilling lives, safe in the knowledge The magnificent minds of the Aeldari began to consume that their deaths were but doorways into their next rebirth and themselves. Fascination became obsession, nobility curdled into another long and pleasurable span of existence.

They knew neither arrogance, and a gradual rot of the soul took hold. The corruption fear nor privation, for their technologies were so advanced that spread slowly, a decline spanning millennia during which the they could ignite or extinguish stars on a whim, and any manual Aeldari became an indolent and self-obsessed people, driven by hardship their race had ever known was no longer a concern. Freed a singular desire for ever greater and more intense acts of self- from the constraints of toil and mortality, possessed of psyches that gratification.

From artistic endeavours that exceeded the bounds could experience extremes of emotion and sensation far beyond of sanity and safety, to obsessive perfectionism that ended in those known by most beings, the ancient Aeldari were free to terrible bloodshed, to the insidious rise of the Pleasure Cults, the pursue their every inclination.

Art, science, literature, performance, civilisation of the ancient Aeldari spiralled downwards into darker philosophy and myriad other disciplines became their fascination, and more obscene depths.

Blood ran red in the streets. Grinning murderers haunted the shadows. Unspeakable horrors were wrought in the name of experience and enlightenment, and the Aeldari gods could do nothing but watch, and rage, and weep. It is an endless, formless ocean of energy in which malefic entities hunt, and whose infinite canvas is shaped by the emotions and desires of mortal minds. It was from a slow accretion of these energies that the Chaos Gods Khorne, Nurgle and Tzeentch had been born, and for all their knowledge the Aeldari failed to realise that their frenzied plunge into depravity was bringing a new deity into being.

The proto-entity that would become Slaanesh coalesced slowly, suckling upon the wanton cruelty and psychotic overindulgence of the Aeldari. The warning signs were there, for those who still retained sufficient grasp on reality to see them. The first to act upon them were the Exodites, who set off in tribes to inhabit far-flung idylls known as maiden worlds. Yet the Exodites alone would wholly avoid the horror that was to follow.

The next escapees were the craftworlders, those who would come to be known as the Asuryani. These were the Aeldari who pulled The Heretic Astartes had all but overrun the Imperial world back from the brink of damnation, fleeing the death throes of their of Nachorn when the Harlequins struck.

In a single night of twisted empire as their parent society grew ever more depraved. They fled aboard vast arks known as craftworlds — planet-sized vessels that were each a self-sufficient realm. Of those who remained in the webway, the most debased were the forebears of the Drukhari. These Aeldari crafted sub-realms every living Aeldari was forfeit. Upon the death of the body, within the webway and ruled over them like malicious gods. Their an unprotected Aeldari soul would be dragged into the warp, sanctuaries would not wholly spare them, but nor would they face and thence to an eternity of hideous torment within the the full and terrible consequences of an apocalypse that they had gullet of She Who Thirsts.

The divergent factions of Aeldari done much to cause. The Asuryani of the craftworlds developed spirit stones, Glutted upon an endless psychic outpouring of lust, cruelty, beautiful gems that caught the departing soul at the moment obsession and pain, Slaanesh at last burst into being as a fully of death and protected it long enough to be released into a formed Chaos God.

There the Aeldari souls would apocalyptic shock wave of hellish energies that raced out across be preserved so long as the craftworld itself endured. The the Aeldari empire and blasted the souls of its denizens from their Exodites practised a variant of the same strange process, bodies.

He devoured them all in a gluttonous orgy, growing stronger their souls becoming one with the world spirit of their home and more monstrous with every mote of life force he consumed. By comparison, the Drukhari of Blazing with unholy power, Slaanesh set upon the Aeldari pantheon, Commorragh found themselves cursed with an altogether destroying and devouring each deity in turn.

Only Cegorach is more ghoulish method of self-preservation, forced to feed off said to have escaped, slipping into the labyrinthine webway even as the pain and misery of other living beings in order to prevent Slaanesh battled mighty Kaela Mensha Khaine.

The Harlequins require no such spiritual defences. How this We are brought into existence already doomed, paying a can be, and what fate awaits those souls within the grasp of price unending for deeds committed millennia before our the Laughing God, are secrets that the Harlequins have never birth. The younger races of the galaxy believe that they deigned to share with the rest of their race. What can they possibly claim to understand of struggle, loss, suffering? They who live for an eye-blink amidst teeming empires of souls unnumbered?

But we know. We remember, for the Harlequins will never let us forget what our people did, what we so catastrophically wrought, what we must fight to our last, dying breath. In a heartbeat, the glorious empire of the Aeldari had been transformed into a twisted realm of blasted ghost-worlds, a place where the infernal energies of the warp spilled out into realspace. Only scattered refugees survived, paltry fragments of a once great people now doomed to a slow decline towards extinction. The Exodites, the Drukhari, the Asuryani and the Harlequins were all that remained of their race, and all were forced to live with the knowledge that She Who Thirsts would hunt their souls for all eternity.

Each faction found their own ways to preserve their souls from Slaanesh, to carry on and survive in a galaxy rendered suddenly hostile and terrifying. None realised, as they strove for meaning, for strength or for simple survival, that they had borne the seeds of vengeance with them into the galactic hinterlands.

The Harlequins of the Laughing God had been, first and foremost, performers within the society of the ancient Aeldari. As that society collapsed they had held to the teachings of their deity, becoming ever more capable of defending them by force and bearing them out into the galaxy aboard craftworlds and Exodite ships, or within shielded Commorrite sub-realms. Now the Harlequins answered the call of Cegorach, the only surviving Aeldari deity, and prepared to exact bloody revenge upon Slaanesh The Masque of the Midnight Sorrow bursts from the webway and all his foul get.

More would follow in their wake as the gate on Osteria just as a Slaaneshi summoning ritual reached its millennia passed, for a war had begun, a conflict veiled in illusion crescendo. Swift and deadly as a starlight blade, they struck down and fuelled by a hatred that could never be slaked. Shuriken weapons spit streams of monomolecular discs that slice their targets apart. Psychocrystalline neuro disruptors burn away the nervous systems of their victims while haywire blasters do the same to mechanical systems.

Perfectly balanced power swords and zephyrglaives slice through armour as though it were silk.

Codex Harlequins 8th

High-tensile second before the wearer charges into air. The shuriken cannon fires monomolecular bladed discs at an astonishing rate, each projectile near invisible to the naked eye but hard enough to scythe through flesh and metal with ease.

The Harlequins use these punishing weapons to support their shock assaults, wailing streams of fire ripping through the foe as the Players dash forwards. The prismatic cannon uses multiple laser arrays set around a fashioned shard of psychocrystal to project a searing beam of energy into the foe.

The tredalil, or star bolas, mounts three weighted plasma charges at the end of mesh-weave cords. These charges arm when the bolas is spun with sufficient vigour.

The weapon is designed to be hurled in a scything arc, tangling about its target before its Crackling blasts of electromagnetic energy leap from the forked projector-vanes of the plasma charges explode with the fury haywire cannon with every shot. Capable of scrambling even the most robust electrical of a dying sun. The flip belt is a wonder of Aeldari technology, a portable anti-grav generator keyed to trigger upon the mental command of its wearer.

The hyper-vibrate, generating so fire beams of energy capable of natural agility, they slender, graceful lines of these much heat that their victims burning away nervous tissue in instead heighten it to the weapons mislead many foes, burst into flames before an agonising instant.

Armour point that Harlequins can who discover their deadly suddenly liquefying, and then offers no protection from leap clean over all but the stopping power only as a evaporating into nothingness.

Indeed, bounding through rubble rip through their flesh. The range, the sheer destructive foes hit by a neuro disruptor and wreckage with reliability and featherweight potential of these weapons show no outward sign of injury, supernatural ease.

They are to the floor. Each zephyrglaive is perfectly weighted, individually balanced to its Harlequin power swords are named after weapons from Aeldari wielder and enfolded in a molecular dissonance field.

This renders myth. Many bear titles taken from the blades forged by the smith- it a lethal weapon of high-velocity aerial murder. Yet these strange devices are far more than mere psychoresponsive bombardment that distracts and terrifies in theatrical accoutrements. Some Players within a masque may have stranger mask can change its features by the moment, displaying shifting masks still, such as the ghoulish skull visage of the Death Jester, patterns, colours and features to aid their performance.

In battle, or the sanity-distorting mirror-mask of the Shadowseer. Via the webway, these ancient beings could appear from hidden gateways in reality to strike at their foes without warning. Furthermore, this network allowed the Old Ones to voyage between the worlds of their dominion without risking the fickle tides of the warp. Since the destruction of the Old Ones countless millennia ago, the webway has been the domain of the Aeldari, and though other races have made attempts to invade its tunnels, their successes are never lasting and the costs are always high.

Known by some as the labyrinth dimension, the webway has been envisioned by mortal minds in myriad ways. Some describe it as a galactic tapestry of shimmering strands, others a maze of glowing tunnels, or the veins of some vast living entity. All such accounts fall short of the truth, for the webway defies neat categorisation.

It is an elegantly crafted realm located between realspace and the warp, analogous to the surface of a still, dark pool, or a fine silk veil drawn across something indescribably foul. The webway once spanned the galaxy, even stretching out into the empty void beyond. Those days are long gone. Ravaged by war and catastrophe, many of its tunnels have been torn open or amputated entirely, and a great number of its entrances have been sealed by the Aeldari themselves as a desperate measure to deny their foes access.

Despite its degradation, the Aeldari still rely upon the webway for swift travel, and none more so than the nomadic Harlequins. It is said that Cegorach is the only being in existence who knows every single path through the webway. This might explain how his disciples possess such an intimate knowledge of its twists and turns, for the Harlequins walk the webway without fear, appearing and disappearing at will.

In this way, entire masques of Harlequins can position themselves in ambush, guaranteeing the element of surprise. Of course, such a system is not perfect, for the webway has become a broken and dangerous realm. The manifestation of the Great Rift tore at the webway, ripping away spars already weakened by the passage of millennia and unravelling others, laying them open to the warp.

Gates long sealed burst open to admit a legion of nightmares, and malefic Chaos worshippers found themselves at liberty to strike at the labyrinth dimension like never before. Craftworld Imperial Monitored Site World. Glowing lights drift through fear of their vengeance lingers. This is not to say that the Black Library galactic mystery the Aeldari have ever remains sacrosanct.

It has been assailed encountered. Imperial Inquisitors, Lord Arhra, even the origins of Chaos itself lore of the Aeldari and the countless arrogant Drukhari Archons and acquisitive are but the merest fragments of the Black species they have encountered. Hosts of Daemons have focuses upon all that the Aeldari know strong enough to snare them.

On and on tried more than once to plunder the Black of Chaos. Within the psychically locked the dark corridors wind, a maze of starlit Library, while in the waning years of the rooms of the Seething Spiral lie grimoires chambers and shadow-drowned oubliettes 41st Millennium the notorious sorcerer of dark magic, their whispers and snarls beyond count.

Few mortals indeed have Ahriman successfully penetrated its shivering the air despite layers of runic seen the inside of this sinister realm, and defences, stealing precious lore for his own wards. Beneath the Dome of Stars none would be foolish enough to speak of dark and nefarious purposes. As fabled events came Harlequins, and the traditions of the craftworlds and Exodites.

The Aeldari are a to pass, so those chains faded one by people who see symbolism in all things, and they keep their slain gods and heroes one until, shortly before the opening of close, lest they forget their teachings and fall again into indolence and madness. Inspiring encompassing some adventurous exploit, internecine conflict or lesson imparted. His warlike brother, the Bloody-Handed the tale of the Fall. Those words presented God Kaela Mensha Khaine, features in stories of murder and warfare, adopting a slender hope, and began a galactic the roles of righteous destroyer and vengeful oppressor with equal ease.

Vaul, the performance that the Harlequins strive to crippled smith, Isha, goddess of the harvest and mother of all, Lileath the Maiden and see fulfilled. Always the strands of fate had the crone Morai-Heg, all feature in their own tales, and in stories that depict their warned that Chaos would be victorious complex interactions and the allegorical messages they impart. Ynnead, the God of the Dead, was brought close to waking by the actions ultimate jest that would trick Slaanesh into of the visionary Farseer Eldrad Ulthran.

Rocket video player for mac. Now his followers spread through Aeldari expending all her energies not to destroy society, promising another way to escape the grasp of Slaanesh and defeat the forces the Aeldari, but to save them. How such a of Chaos. It has no formal leaders, being instead a collective of like-minded devotees of Cegorach. All know their duties through their familiarity with the traditional roles of the characters they have adopted.

No Harlequin rules their fellows for long, for all possess an equal voice. Conversely, certain saedath are the structure should a Solitaire lend their the Aeldari race. Small wonder, then, that specialisms of particular masques, or else considerable abilities to a cause, but they its attendant saedath is a vicious strategy are rarely seen outside the direst or most are otherwise unchanged, centred around valuing headlong slaughter over subtlety auspicious conflicts.

The Light, for example, is upon their incredible athleticism and airborne masques. The ritual steps of especially associated with swift action and lightning-fast attack craft to propel them this dance echo the deeds of the Weaver the heroic protagonist.

By comparison, swiftly into the heart of the foe. There Serpents — the demigod serpent beings the Dark represents villainous antagonists the Harlequins kill at a blinding pace, that were the young of the great Cosmic and violent endings, while the Twilight is depending upon perfectly orchestrated Serpent — within the mythic tales of transitory, like the webway or the fateful strafing runs from their supporting grav- Cegorach.

The anti-grav attack craft play journey. Central to this performance upon both stage and battlefield. In this way, the players spring across the heads of the Harlequin masques fight with near- enemy, snapping necks, plucking out eyes prescient efficiency. With the barest and staving in skulls without ever touching direction from their Troupe Master, each the ground. Indeed, despite the lack back aboard their Starweavers and scream of a formal military chain of command, away into the distance while the Skyweavers masques are capable of acting with far and Voidweavers cover their retreat.

Essentially inevitably carries a high cost in lives for legendary heroes Ulthanash and Eldanesh, a strategic battle plan with an allegorical both the Harlequins and their foes.

Yet this and the Solitaire embodying the monstrous edge, these inform target priority, overall in itself is rich with symbolism, echoing the pride that led them into the lair of the strategy, and whether the conflict should horrific death toll and scattered survivors Prince of the Ygghs.

The of the Fall. Whatever by stealing one of his antlers, Voidweavers the choice, each saedath is an intricate and There are countless other saedath, each and Skyweavers blasting a path to the prize brilliantly conceived strategy guaranteed to ideally suited to a specific foe or situation. Some are performed by the majority seize it while the enemy are still reeling.

Each of these symbols is thousands of years old, and carries great significances amongst the Aeldari. Players commonly display their Troupe rune upon a knee, thigh or shoulder pad. The Troupe runes for the Light, Twilight and Dark are the prism, the heart and the four-pointed star respectively. Troupe Masters bear a modified version of these runes, bordered by curving arcs. These are the master symbols, and are often presented as outlines rather than solidly blacked out symbols.

The Masque of the Midnight Sorrow numbers many dozens of masques and bands of Players, scattered far across the realms of the Aeldari, all fighting a constant war against the Ruinous Powers. The worshippers of Chaos face few more determined or single-minded foes: Where reality tears asunder and the exception, upon the dangers of Chaos, and figures rarely speak, except in ritual form, horrors of the warp spill forth, there can be in recent centuries they have abandoned and care for nothing but the final defeat found the Masque of the Midnight Sorrow.

Their warriors whirl through the blazing vivid depictions of the Fall. Masters of forbidden within their roles. All Harlequins sacrifice a Ynnead, and many have taken the colours lore who strike upon the toll of the portion of their personality to the character of the Ynnari.

Only time will tell… All Harlequins battle the servants of Chaos, yet for the Masque of the Midnight Sorrow this war has become a destructive obsession where no price is too steep for victory. This Grand Masque stalks the webway tunnels around the Eye of Terror, striking fearlessly at Chaos strongholds wherever they can be found.

Comprising the Midnight Sorrow, the Kabal of the Flayed Skull, and a warhost from Craftworld Yme-Loc, this uneasy alliance purged the renegade fortress world of Filth Pit despite horrific Aeldari losses. The monomaniacal focus of the Midnight Sorrow has a cost to them not only in lives, but in minds and souls. So intent upon their daemonic foe are these Harlequins that all else fades into obscurity.

Their battles and performances focus, without. The symbol of the Masque of the Midnight Sorrow takes the form of a spear driven into the inverse heart of the rune of Twilight. The costumes worn by Players in the Midnight Sorrow are dark black with offsets of bright yellow, while their motley is red and blue. In many ways, the Masque of the Veiled Path epitomises every mistrustful thought and resentful prejudice Humanity has ever held for the Aeldari. Amongst the Asuryani, it is said that to trust the Veiled Path is to step willingly into the void.

For all this, they are skilled warriors, and deadly enemies of all who would see the light of the Aeldari extinguished at last. Tricksters, manipulators and riddle-smiths, beyond. It was they, for example, who are System, and smoothed the passage of the the Veiled Path are capricious even by the said to have set the Archon Lady Malys resurrected Primarch Roboute Guilliman standards of Harlequins. Even other Grand upon the road to her strange encounter back to Terra during his crusade.

Yet that Masques see the Veiled Path as dangerously in the webway and the arcane bond with same seer also saw to it that Guilliman untrustworthy, for they have been the Cegorach that resulted.

It was they who was forced to rely upon the aid of the architects of countless atrocities. Yet none sent one of their number — under the sinister wanderer known only as Cypher, can deny the list of victories that their assumed name of Sylandri Veilwalker — and sealed Magnus the Red in the webway duplicity has won them. A Shadowseer reached a fatal conclusion. It is not unknown for spectators or allies to vanish without trace, never to be seen again. The Veiled Path have betrayed far more pacts than they have kept, and have stolen away many precious relics and important leaders.

Yet far from being repentant, the Veiled Path seem to take a malicious glee in every promise they break and crisis they cause. If this is true, then the burden of guilt that the Veiled Path hide must be a dreadful weight indeed. It is associated not only with trickery, but with back-stabbing and an ill-omened demise. The Frozen Stars strike wherever and however they believe will elicit the greatest and grisliest amusement.

In some ways they carry themselves as a force for good, striving to inspire their fellow Aeldari and follow the steps of the Final Act. Yet their cheer is reserved only for those they favour, and their mirth is swift to turn cruel and malevolent. Standing secret vigil over the destruction of particular key enemies and as vermin, there only to serve as the butt maiden worlds of the Eastern Fringe, the precise manipulation of the deeds of of their shockingly violent pranks and these Harlequins possess a genuine hope others.

They wage a war against the slow jests. They believe rot of Chaos, the arrogant might of the minor alien empires have all suffered the that there is a path to be trod through the Imperium and the reckless expansionism sudden attacks of this Grand Masque. Following destinies another as they murder their foes.

Whether it be the threat posed by newly birthed warp storms to the Eastern Fringe, the rise of the Ynnari — whom the Frozen Stars regard as the dupes of a false deity — or the belief that the Rhana Dandra is upon them, these Harlequins have become near-frenzied. They strike at the forces of Chaos and the Imperium with equal vehemence, butcher aliens without mercy, and, all the while, their hysterical laughter echoes on the winds of war. The rune of this Masque is that of divergent chance, depicting the pathways of fate propped up on a foundation of certainty and determination.

The Frozen Stars are known for their striking black and white costumes.

In the Dreaming Shadow, the fervour and energy of the Harlequins becomes something grimmer and more funereal. They are the guardians of myriad symbolic underworlds; their charge is to ensure that the dead stay dead, and the slumbering never wake.

Beneath the glare of dying stars, the Masque of the Dreaming Shadow performs its sombre dance of war. It is the ancestral duty of this Grand Masque to prevent the rise of an ancient foe, to slay whoever it takes to prevent the rebirth of the Necron Empire. Regardless, the continued efforts of the Dreaming Shadow speak for themselves; they have slowed the awakening of dozens of tomb worlds over recent centuries, and snuffed the ambitions of others altogether.

The Dreaming Shadow have a long history The saedath performed by the Dreaming of sudden and seemingly unprovoked Shadow are almost always led by Troupes attacks upon Adeptus Mechanicus dig sites, of the Twilight, for they stand ever upon Inquisitorial agents and newly founded the threshold between life and death. Their Imperial colonies upon outlying planets, ranks are replete with such characters and for this, they have become reviled as the Watchman of the Last Road, the by Humanity.

Yet in recent years, the Herald of Heg and the Lockmistress, roles Dreaming Shadow have been reported synonymous with maintaining the natural fighting as allies alongside the defenders order and preventing evil spirits from of forge worlds and Knight worlds. They rising to bedevil the living. They spend have interceded against heretic uprisings, much of their time in battle, gracing the Tyranid invasions, even Drukhari pirate The rune of unveiled mystery is worn halls of their kin with performances only raids, before vanishing again.

Imperial by this Masque as an ironic comment, when they need to replenish their ranks. Their victims barely have time to realise their danger before the Harlequins are dispensing death throughout their ranks. It performs and fights in an almost and soar, shedding very real blood as they exclusively airborne fashion, soaring into engage in ritual dances and duels with the battle like the Weaver Serpents of the mythic best challengers the Wych Cults have to offer.

The diamond rune of the Soaring Spite These were the Cosmic signifies a sense of oneness. Each of the serpents was as different from one another as they were from the Great Harlequin himself, yet all were drawn into his endless dance.

Facing the Harlequins of the Laughing God in battle is a terrifying experience, but few masques are as sinister or unsettling as those of the Silent Shroud. Whether this be amid the reigns. Even their weapons are to the Silent Shroud. The their roles. They simply seem to know next, the Harlequins were amongst what is required of them, evincing an eerie them.

Others claim the Silent Shroud are nothing more than ghosts of the webway bound within mortal raiment, their souls trapped forever within the masks they wore in life. Whatever the case, the Silent Shroud fight an endless psychological war against the many enemies of the Aeldari race.

The Silent Shroud wear bright yellows and oranges. Their rune is the thorn- strangled stave — a mythic weapon used by Kurnous, the hunting god of ancient Aeldari myth, to strike down his prey without making a sound. All Harlequins exhibit an eerie familiarity with the paths of the webway.

For the Dance Without End, this familiarity has become something more akin to symbiosis. The Masque of the Dance Without End — a specialism that is said to bring these The Dance Without End traverse the falls upon its foes like a hammer blow, Harlequins closer to their deity. So deep is deepest and strangest reaches of the appearing as if from thin air with guns their connection to the Laughing God that webway, often returning to a confluence already blazing. Full of passion and verve, it is rumoured the webway itself flexes and known as the Maze of Whispers.

Certainly, passages of this region are stiflingly still renowned for their performances of the the Dance Without End seem always to and suffused with a sense of dread, yet Spiral of Mirth and Madness. This is the attack from the most unexpected quarter, through some quirk of fate it survived cycle of dances, plays and monologues that vanishing on the breeze should matters the opening of the Great Rift wholly recount the deeds of Cegorach himself go awry.

Since those terrible days, the Dance Without End have used the Maze of Whispers as their base of operations in a war to save the webway.

Whether the maze is simply a safe staging ground, or whether it conceals some deeper and darker secret, the Dance Without End will not tell. No other Grand Masque has fought more furiously in defence of the labyrinth dimension. They have struck at Necron dolmen gates that shackled webway tunnels, annihilating them to set those pathways free. They have used flattery and threat in equal measure to forge alliances of Asuryani and Drukhari, and have burst into realspace to butcher Tyranids, Orks and humans alike — any who set foot near a forbidden webway gate find their lives forfeit, whether they knew of its presence or not.

The Dance Without End wear magenta and black with green and blue motley. Not all routes to victory pass through the realms of logic. Sometimes the caprice and madness of Chaos must be met in kind, and strange deeds performed to achieve unexpected ends. Such is the way of the Twisted Path. This Grand Masque has a chilling reputation for luring victims into the webway to vanish without a trace.

In battle, they steal away friend and foe alike, never to be seen again by their commanders or kin. Where these vanished souls are taken remains a mystery, though rumours abound that it is part of some grand scheme of the Laughing God.

It is said that they fight in unsettling concert with these unlikely allies, whose uniforms and vehicles are marked in some subtle way with the rune and colours of the Twisted Path.

Yet their auxiliaries show not a hint of reticence, even the most fanatical Imperial warrior or brutish Ork laying down their lives in a heartbeat for the Harlequins that fight at their side.

In others they — or why — is a mystery that the Twisted trigger fresh conflicts, massacre selfless Path are in no hurry to explain.

Indeed, guardians or mighty champions, or inflict extracting anything of sense from this untold miseries upon what seem like Grand Masque is a Herculean task, for entirely undeserving victims. Nor do the their dialogue is peppered with illogical Twisted Path always fight until the battle analogies, mind-bending riddles and hints is done — their Troupes have been sighted at lore neither safe nor sought for.

Such fighting from one end of the galaxy to erratic behaviour has made many Asuryani The Masque of the Twisted Path wear the other, emerging from the webway and Drukhari reluctant to put their trust the rune of stolen grace, symbolising apparently at random to launch rapid — in the Twisted Path. They wear red, orange and pink suddenly as they appeared.

In some places, continuing to pursue their strange agenda over black. Still it seems to many as though their end draws ever closer. Rather than shy from it, or seek to prevent it, the Shattered Mirage take death as their muse.

The Masque of the Shattered Mirage is hesitant to deploy. Both their kin and their enemies allies of the twisted Haemonculi and their all odds. Their ghastly broods. Perhaps, dread, conveying only fatalistic despair to For all their hopeless philosophising they say, their performance is intended their audiences. They strike where no enemy that resolution. It is not hard to see why many Aeldari view this Grand Masque as heralds of ill omen. Still, none are foolish enough to impede their coming.

In battle, the Shattered Mirage fight with a reckless abandon that is horrific to behold, and even in death they take dozens of the foe screaming with them to the grave. To fight the Shattered Mirage is to fight a foe with no fear of death, intent only on the destruction of their enemies no matter the cost.

Nor do the Shattered Mirage shy from using forbidden weapons and calling upon horrific allies to heighten the bloodshed. In recent centuries they have unleashed several weapons of the ancient Aeldari, terrible works of arcane science that even the Drukhari would be. The rune of the lamented dead is integral to the mindset of the Masque of the Shattered Mirage. Contained within its graceful lines and bladed curves is the ultimate demise of all things, and since the Great Rift opened the Players of the Shattered Mirage have taken to carving this rune directly into their flesh.

They wear white and bright-blue garb, with motley of white and earthen hues. So wholeheartedly spiteful are their saedath, and so bloody their performances, that they are viewed with something akin to horror by their craftworld kin, and with grudging respect by the Drukhari of Commorragh. This Masque has a disproportionate which they paint their masterpieces of number of Troupes of the Dark, and its death. It is not enough to simply kill their Because of their penchant for inventive ranks are thick with cruel and macabre enemies — they must be made examples cruelty, this Masque attracts a higher personalities such as Khaine Wrathful and of in the most extravagant manner.

The proportion of Death Jesters to join their the Queen of Shards. Yet perversely, almost carrion tableaux arranged in the Palace ranks than do most Harlequin forces. These figures make a great show of dismay at the vicious antics of their followers, acting out exaggerated shock and penitence at each excessive killing the Troupes perform.

There is allegory here, of course. These Harlequins wear white, scarlet and purple. Across countless worlds, in myriad theatres of art and war alike, they have performed their bloody dances and foiled the machinations of Chaos at every turn. Still they fight, as the darkness gathers and doom approaches, for they know that the stakes have never been higher. Taking before constricting rapidly like the coils of From Light into Darkness up arms, the Harlequins vanish into the the Cosmic Serpent.

Though the Nurgle In the wake of the fabled War in Heaven, labyrinth dimension to prepare for the war worshippers fight to defend their position, the Aeldari rise to supremacy as the that will consume their future utterly. Empowered by their ritual ruined. Fulgulus is the last to their supreme technology, they enjoy every MM40 RISING fall, pierced with the twin blades known as luxury and pursue every curiosity.

The Dreaming Shadow infiltrate the decay. Pleasure cults spread through their The Masque of the Midnight Sorrow bursts chronostatic tomb fortress of Nemesor society, and the pantheon of Aeldari gods is from the webway portal at Llayen Nuadh Torlak on Pardassos. By sabotaging the gradually abandoned in favour of personal to fall upon a horde of Slaaneshi Daemons.

258602812-WarHammer-40K-Codex-7th-Ed-Eldar-Harlequins.pdf

Yet the Their intervention rescues the embattled Harlequins trigger a singularity cascade Aeldari are not becoming gods. Incensed, Torlak descent into perverted madness nurtures a daemonic foes back into the warp. Few know of his dealings Imperial forces attempt to plunder Even as the Aeldari empire decays around with the Masque of the Veiled Path at this forbidden archeotech on the dying world them, the masques remain true to the time, or of the dreadful pact he seals with of Karadox.

Several masques of the teachings of their god. While some lament them upon ascending to his throne. Midnight Sorrow strike without warning, the death of the old ways, others revel orchestrating a blistering campaign of in mocking the lunacy they see at every The War of Mirrors hit-and-run attacks against the Explorator turn. Only a handful of and the Harlequins are compelled to Harlequins survive the six-month conflict, Strange Saviours become ever more martially skilled but they sow such confusion that the The fortress world of Magnor Prime in order to defend themselves while Waaagh!

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In this way do the ritual Night Lords Heretic Astartes. The Chaos warband of Lord Fulgulus apart in terror raids, finding their skinned attacks the Exodite world of Rhildhol. The garrison are on A disaster millennia in the making strikes daemonic patron, Fulgulus systematically the brink of revolt when the Harlequins at last.

His warriors nowhere. Desperate enough to heed the that obliterates the empire of the Aeldari. It is then Shadowseers, deploying their surviving that Humanity will come to know as the that the Masque of the Soaring Spite, aided troops to counter enemy attacks before Eye of Terror. The Aeldari, meanwhile, by the Wych Cult of Strife, falls upon the they begin. The war turns as the Night are all but annihilated. Yet amongst the Nurgle worshippers.

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As the ritual nears its Lords go from ambushers to ambushed, far-flung survivors of this great catastrophe peak, squadrons of jetbikes, grav-skimmers and are forced to fight with increasing are the Harlequins, and hidden within and Hellions encircle the Chaos forces savagery to hold their own. Magnor and disappears. Imperial worlds. By the time the Imperial Prime is saved, and the Veiled Path leave as response reaches the forge world, the mysteriously as they came.

In violently evict the interlopers. Though the cost is The collapse of a Necron dolmen gate takes up the cursed Spear of Twilight. He high, the invaders are wiped out, not a creates a rent in reality, and allows a is compelled to seize his destiny in this single super-heavy war engine making it horde of Khornate Daemons to spill into way by a Shadowseer of the Veiled Path.

Yet greatest daemonic herald — before the Gate the danger is undone as the Veiled Path A Promise Kept of Souls, mirroring the hatred between awaken a little-used webway gate and allow While battling Tyranids on Deshil, Khorne and Slaanesh. The their senses clouded by visions. Upon awakening, they repelling a horde of Slaaneshi Daemons Black Library remains undisturbed. A Dangerous Debt Commorragh.

Of their captors there is no Led by a conclave of Shadowseers, the sign, but the Haemonculi croon delightedly A Single Blade Midnight Sorrow aid Inquisitor Sophia over a debt settled in blood. After his bodyguards are drawn away Vilimas in defeating the Alpha Legion on by a series of diversionary attacks, the Safehaven.

None but the Harlequins them a debt — one they will soon collect. Echospire on the shrine world of Baedros. All are A Great Harlequin wins the Commorrite is besmirched by this bloody disaster. Their recruitment Roth against pirates. However, as battle is The Black Prelude rates rise commensurably, and disquiet joined, they turn upon their allies, ending The Dreaming Shadow bring a warning to spreads at the sinister implications of this seemingly unprovoked attack by the forge world of Noctillus Dhega-Nox.

In a string of bloody battles, the Midnight The Dreaming Shadow begin a decade- Sorrow trap sixty-six Heralds of Slaanesh long campaign against the tomb worlds Thirteen days later, the Dreaming within runic stones. Uncomfortably similar of Maedrax, fighting to stem the rising Shadow return, this time in force.

Bloodied Shards the elegant spars of the webway. Rune- the Heretic Astartes of the Red Corsairs. Sub-realms heart to surprise the garrisoning force of them in a razor-edged landslide. With them come a rogue by the time the initial onslaught subsides, faction of Asuryani from Craftworld The Seeker Denied extensive damage has been done from one Yme-Loc, who seek to aid the Harlequins Led by the Dance Without End and the end of the galaxy to the other.

No explanation is offered upon the Eastern Fringe. The brackish long ago by the Imperium, faces invasion and neither reason nor force can stay its waters and slimy effluvia of this storm rot by splinters of Hive Fleets Leviathan and pursuit.

Trapped within the Nykos System the forests and raise gelid floodwaters to Kraken. To prevent the swarms combining by the lack of warp travel, Governor drown wildlife already stricken by a foul their strength, a band of Harlequins Ghorondine flees from one world to and mutating curse of fecundity.

On each brokers an alliance between Craftworlds the next, expending entire regiments of world so beset, masques of the Frozen Biel-Tan and Iyanden, along with the bodyguards. The Spectre of Despair cuts Stars appear.

Fighting their way to the site Drukhari of Commorragh. The ensuing a red path through them all. Even as the Aeldari weep, so the Eversor Assassin against the Solitaire. The rains falling from the skies transform from This war is the final sign.

Deep within the two ghoulish figures engage in a blisteringly diseased filth to cleansing waters that glow Black Library, the crystal tome of Cegorach swift battle across the battlements of like moonlight. Wherever these purifying falls open at last. Dozens of palace monsoons sweep over the landscape, guards are butchered simply for stepping the power of Nurgle is undone and the Storm Winds Rise into the path of the ferocious combatants, corruption reversed.

The galaxy burns, the fires of war lighting and the Solitaire is sorely wounded over a bloody stage. As the Harlequins begin and again. A time of changing fates looms the Eversor, the Solitaire, and the hapless corruption of their maiden worlds, their as the storm gathers, and the mantle of Governor Ghorondine in a searing blast. Whether that they must follow.

Via a shattered rune- ongoing, some amongst the Aeldari dare to fastnesses, masques gather in readiness. Dark times approach, it is said, gradually down until they fall one by one Most portray the god as a character of and the servants of the Laughing God are into slumber.

Projecting their dreaming the Twilight, though dependent upon the their harbingers, but also an embodiment selves through the surface of the twisted masque in question he is cast as a saviour, of hope that they might be endured.

The fires of their military might the carapaces of factory-sized broodbeasts, Uhl-Ohm-7 puts down upon a nameless remain undimmed, but a very real danger sowing plasma charges to crack them open world covered in ghostly ruins. The Death Jesters accompanying one another. Disaster is averted when the Casualties are high — Rippers surge the Masque engage in a cruel contest to Frozen Stars travel from one warship to upwards in tidal waves and seething spouts inflict the most ironic demise they can, the next, warning of a daemonic threat to of chitin and claws, dragging Aeldari down culminating in an act of sabotage that sees the Exodite worlds known as the Three to be instantly devoured.

Winged monsters five hundred Skitarii crushed together in Sisters. They whip the Asuryani into a blast aircraft from the skies, sending them an instant by the collapse of a depolarised xenophobic fury at the human cults whose spiralling down to be gnawed apart in void-shield generator. Yet in the end, the war becomes realspace. Gharros, a Sorcerer of the heretical Iron Having sent his elite Incubi to join the Warriors, raises a mighty fastness — the offensive against the foe, Vect is hacked Indomitasmium — on the death world apart by hissing Mandrakes in his sanctum.

Though constructed every safehold within which Vect has unopposed, any Iron Warriors that emerge concealed some fragment of himself for from the fortification are set upon by the regenerative purposes. Some whisper that Masque of the Silent Shroud, their voices this coup is the work of Lady Malys, but stolen from them just moments before the Archon herself remains icily aloof. Those loyal to the former to overcome his fortress.

Yet chamber by Overlord attend, as do many who hated chamber, corridor by corridor, an eerie him and wish only to gloat before going to pall of silence begins to fall across the war for his crown. Only Lady Malys fails Indomitasmium. Those caught in the zones to appear. By the time her absence raises of dread silence for too long find their alarm, it is too late. In the midst of their senses fading until they are rendered deaf, performance, the Harlequins saturate the blind and dumb.

Weeks pass and still the wake with potent airborne hallucinogens The Dance of the Great Falcon Harlequins strike down every Iron Warrior and unleash their fury on the reeling The Imperial agri world of Methuselax is that dares emerge, accepting painful losses Archons. Carnage erupts as the exits to overrun by a splinter fleet of Hive Fleet in order to maintain their strange siege. Vect himself replicating ceaselessly until an undulating dwindling, Gharros launches a furious rises from a column of dark energy to sea of Rippers covers much of the planet.

The sheer grim ferocity preside over the slaughter, very much alive This chitinous living ocean risks spilling of the attack sets the Silent Shroud reeling, and declaring himself a living Dark Muse. Robbed of their impregnable society.

Most of Unable to land upon ground swarming dig in for a last stand just a mile short of them, at any rate. As for the Veiled Path, with Tyranid organisms, the Aeldari their extraction craft, but the Silent Shroud they vanish into the webway, leaving the instead remain airborne. They skim above do not attack. Instead, as quietly as they Supreme Overlord of Commorragh firmly the fanged ocean, launching pinpoint came, they vanish.

Gharros is given just in their debt. Following the fracture of Biel-Tan, many of Jetbikes and sleek fighter craft weave The battle that follows is as short as it its now fleetborne elements clash angrily between bloated living air-mines.

In many marked upon a sash, though this is by no conflicts, the most talented will even be means consistently done. Such warriors often slicing through the thickest armour with adopt the title of Great Harlequin, and ease.

Some also carry small but powerful play the role of Cegorach — or some haywire grenades: Closer laced with electroreactive psychocircuitry. Some Troupe Masters even carry take their place. Dark or Twilight. Troupe Masters of the Twilight see cycles of transition in everything, often seeming obsessive, even insane in their attention to nuance and detail, until the precise moment their true genius reveals itself.

Their ever-shifting features of combat. Whereas flicker between nightmarish horror Players wear elegantly cut and leering, sardonic humour at the jackets or ritually folded mortal plight of their foes.

Many factors influence crystalline light, or the firelit hell of the terrain, leaping in unison over flaming which weapons a Player will use, such as battlefield. They tumble, sprint and leap, wreckage and plunging chasms.

The the saedath they are performing and the every squeeze of the trigger and slash of a desperate attacks of their enemies find specific part they will undertake. Some blade bringing death to the enemy.

Some no less incredible. Others simply vanish from their personal chambers. Still others are swept up in a Harlequin performance and stolen away, lose an ill-judged wager with a Troupe Master, or follow mysterious laughter and skirling music through a webway gate, never to be seen again. Every Aeldari culture has dozens of strange — often cautionary — tales regarding the Harlequins, and while some are doubtless embellished or wholly apocryphal, many more contain an eerie core of truth.

To become a Harlequin means erasing all that has come before, be it friends, family, path or purpose. However it happens, once an Aeldari becomes a Harlequin every aspect of their old identity is erased. Harlequins make use of weapons and wargear that are esoteric, even by the standards of their eldritch race.