Konstantin Klondike was born in the slums of a nameless world upon the far fringes of Imperial space, whose extremes of climate resulted in its ghetto-cities to be islands surrounded by a desert of snow in the summer and a desert of sand in the winter: a haven for those void treading merchants of ill repute. As a child, he’d been privy to that most rare of human experiences; a performance by the enigmatic caste of the eldar – the Harlequins. Fate had changed him that day, awe and obsession had inspired, some would say driven, him as a young man into the arms of his worlds’ black market cartels. Klondike became a name synonymous on his planet with the race he so beloved, collecting artifacts and trinkets of the eldar from traders who’d harvested them from the surface of a hundred alien worlds. When the Inquisition came to his world, Klondike was one of the first to be captured in their purges and incarcerated in the dungeons of the Ordo Xenos, his crime and sentence already decided: death as a xenophile and trafficking in forbidden materials. Upon the morning of his execution, the Inquisition found his cell empty, unbeknownst to them, he had already been recruited by another member of their own institution.
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