D-Day minus 1: Kub-Waaagh is go!

Well, this is it. Last day before Kublacon. Tomorrow I will trundle up to the convention in the wee hours of the morning to try my hand - one last time - at playing Eldar competitively in a tournament.




Yes, you heard right, I'm hanging it up. The Eldar have been my main army since their 4th edition codex was released (as well as through most of 3rd edition), and it's been an uphill battle. I've had some good games, I've had some bad games, and in and around them all there was a whole lotta fail, with just enough win to keep me going!

So why stop now? Suffice it to say that I am finally convinced my favorite xeno race has been well and truly superceded by just about every other army out there.

Not to sound like I'm whining, but the Eldar don't even have the option of running anymore. Fast skimmers are everywhere, and nearly every one of them is as fast as the Eldar, shoots better, is harder and presents more options than I can readily deal with(valkyrie, vendetta, storm raven, ravager, raider and now the razorwing). The dying race is outnumbered, outgunned, and now outrun by pretty much every other race currently in the metagame.

This isn't sour grapes, in case you are wondering. I still like the Eldar and I've finally got a grasp of how they should be run. No one who knows my win-loss ratio can say that losing games is a problem for me; the name of this blog is Farseer Fail, after all! 

After tomorrow's tourney, regardless of the outcome (even if it's a sweeping victory - yah right!) I'll be setting my beloved space elfs aside. It's been fun, but I feel the need to set aside this codex for a while and try something different.

For me, that means Space Marines; Dark Angels, to be specific. Believe it or not I have never owned or run a Space Marine army in the 12 or so years since I picked up 40K as a hobby. I plan to embark on the Independent Characters' hobby challenge, to get my Deathwing/Ravenwing army painted up to a usable 2250 points.

My elves, meanwhile, will be cooling their heels in their trusty, dusty old Sabol case in my closet, awaiting a return to glory...