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Dark shapes hurtle through the fog, shrouded from sight until they burst forth at speed. Masters of misdirection and hit-and-run attacks, Doomfire Warlocks encircle the foe, whittling them down with sorcery and crossbow fire before goading their steeds to charge in for the kill.

The Doomfire Warlocks are the light cavalry of the war covens. They harass foes with blasts of arcane flame and volleys of black-fletched bolts, worrying the enemy’s flanks and slaying unprotected targets. As the main Khainite formations become engaged, these swift riders will charge in, scimitars drawn, to help overwhelm and finish off their distracted victims. Up close, Doomfire Warlocks are gaunt and pallid, their black eyes haunted and lacking any emotion save spite. Emblazoned upon their brows are hateful runes that cause them great pain, yet are also vital to keeping them alive. They are, quite literally, a cursed lot.

There are few male aelves in the temples and cities of the Daughters of Khaine, and fewer still in the military hierarchies of the war covens. This is no accident, but by nefarious design. Only the weakest and most broken of souls retrieved from Slaanesh by Morathi are used to create male aelves, and these are destined to serve as leathanam, wretches used by the Khainites for menial labours and worse. They are worked hard, fed poorly and drained of blood in daily rituals. It is Khaine’s wish that only the strong survive; the weak must either perish or perform some task deemed worthy enough to warrant the gift of maintaining their paltry existence.

Not all aelf males are formed from souls that have been recovered from their torturous existence inside the Great Enemy. Those birthed to covenite sisters in the conventional fashion are likewise afflicted with a weakness of the body and spirit. This too is no coincidence, for the High Oracle long ago wrought a secret malediction that would touch all sons born of the Daughters of Khaine, allowing her to siphon off a portion of their soul-stuff to add to the ever-growing font of power stored by the Mathcoir.

Yet despite the crippling difficulties stacked against them, a number of these male whelps grow stronger than the others. These few, nurtured by the shadows themselves, develop an affinity with the darkness and an ability to absorb the mystic energies of Ulgu. Although Morathi recognises the potential of these males, she is leery of power she herself has not granted. To ensure their faith, each is branded with runes of control, although they are told such marks are wards against the soul-thievery of Slaanesh.

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