The Sisters of Slaughter are the premier gladiator guilds, the undisputed queens of the arena.
Once they numbered only a dozen - the outcast daughters of a disgraced house who pledged their lives to Eldrazor, Lord of Blades, so that he would regard their quest for vengeance favorably. Now that their vengeance was long ago etched in the bones of their family's traitors, the sisters have thousands of skilled combatants scattered in enclaves in every major city, and a legend that has reached even the shores of distant lands. As for Eldrazor, he is very pleased with the results of his patronage - always the half-forgotten outcast of the Elven pantheon, his power has grown greatly with the rise of the sisters.
The sisters fight as they live, moment-to-moment, with every heartbreaking slash and viper-speed slash left unplanned until unleashed in the second. Those who haven't seen the Sisters of Slaughter ply their trade in quicksilver scoff at their talents and refuse to believe that mere instinct - how finely honed - could replace discipline and training. Such doubts only last until the naysayer witnesses a lonely sister hack through a trio of trapped demons or sees a handful of gladiatrixes take down an enraged Chimera with an attack pattern as sublimely artistic as it is impossible to predict.
Most sisters live their entire lives in the arena, performing bloody feats of battle for the barking crowd. For many, however, there comes a time when the ritual of fighting in the arena becomes staid and unfulfilled. So a lucky dreadlord can be approached by a group of sisters trying to test their skills on a real battlefield. Few commanders find it possible to refuse such an offer, for the sisters do not ask for plunder in exchange for their services, only the promise of an enemy who will truly test them.
Many Dark Elf raids are led by merrily laughing warriors dancing into battle with wild grace. Most enemies trained for regiment and shield wall combat are easy prey. The sisters don't slow their approach when the enemy appears, but sure-footedly leap over the locked shields to launch themselves into the heart of the formation, weapon-wielding. Moments later, the surviving enemies drop their weapons and flee, their will to fight broken. The Sisters of Slaughter don't care about her anymore. Eyes gleaming with the joy of battle, they run toward the nearest foe, eagerly searching for opponents worthy of their skills.