For all the aeons since the Fall, the scattered kindreds of the Aeldari have clung to a single desperate hope: that in death their souls might one day coalesce into Ynnead, a god of the dead strong enough to devour Slaanesh and free them from their curse. Ancient prophecy held that this awakening would come only when the last Aeldari died and their spirit passed into the infinity circuits. The Ynnari were born of the belief that the god need not wait so long, and that death wielded with purpose can rouse the whispering god here and now.
Their prophet is Yvraine, once a Dire Avenger, a corsair, and a wych of the dark city, slain upon the blood-soaked sands of a Commorrite arena. In the instant of her death Ynnead stirred and reached into her, dragging her back to life and marking her as his emissary with power beyond any living seer. The event the Aeldari now call the Night of Revelations sent a psychic convulsion tearing through Commorragh and beyond, and from that catastrophe the cult of the Reborn was raised, drawing followers from craftworld and dark city alike.
About Yvraine gathered the Triumvirate of Ynnead. The Visarch, a peerless swordsman who had once been an Incubus of Commorragh, took up the burden of her protector, bearing the cronesword Asu-var, the Sword of Silent Screams. When the infinity circuit of Biel-Tan was shattered in a storm of unleashed spirits, that same cataclysm gave the death god a doorway into the mortal world, and through it stepped the Yncarne, the Avatar of Ynnead, a spectral horror that blinks across the battlefield wherever the slain lie thickest.
The Ynnari call their creed the Seventh Path, a road that spurns the careful discipline of the craftworlds in favour of embracing death and turning it to strength. In battle they grow more terrible with every soul extinguished around them, friend and foe alike, feeding that liberated energy back into their weapons and their sorcery. Their long labour is to gather the croneswords, the fell blades forged to slay gods, for their prophets teach that with these relics in hand Ynnead may at last wake in full and end the reign of She Who Thirsts.
Order of battle
The The Ynnari field the units of the Aeldari, a detachment from the roster:
Other Aeldari formations
Biel-TanThe Swordwind, most militant and idealistic of the great craftworlds, whose people refuse to accept the Aeldari as a spent and dying force. Biel-Tan dreams of rebuilding the shattered empire of old, and its armies are composed of Aspect Warriors in numbers no other craftworld can match, striking with the disciplined ferocity of those who believe their race can still reclaim its lost supremacy.
Craftworld AlaitocAlaitoc is the most remote and inward-looking of the great craftworlds, drifting at the ragged edge of the galaxy far beyond the frontiers of the Imperium. Its people hold to a discipline stricter than that of any other Asuryani, forever watchful against the seductive whispers of She Who Thirsts. From this severity is born a restless tide of wanderers who take up the Path of the Outcast, and Alaitoc sends more Rangers and Pathfinders into the dark between the stars than all its sister worlds combined.
IyandenThe Ghost Craftworld, once among the most populous and splendid of all Aeldari vessels, now a haunted shell that lost the overwhelming majority of its people to catastrophe. To survive at all, Iyanden marches its very dead into battle, animating the spirits of fallen ancestors within wraith constructs so that the honoured departed might still defend the dwindling living.
Saim-HannThe Wild Host, a craftworld of proud kindred clans who prize speed, daring, and personal honour above the patient strategies of their kin. Saim-Hann wages war from the saddle of skimming jetbikes and grav-tanks, its warriors striking in headlong charges that reflect a fierce, almost barbaric spirit tempered only by an intricate code of martial etiquette.
UlthwéThe Damned Craftworld, drifting in the shadow of the Eye of Terror and shielded by the greatest concentration of seers among the Aeldari. Its people live under constant threat from the daemonic horrors that spill from that hellish wound, and this proximity to ruin has forged a somber, disciplined culture that treats prophecy as a weapon and survival as a duty owed to the whole species.
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