PART 2 NOW OPEN. Please, read on, if not to spite me and laugh?

Many stories are told through Commorragh, many indeed.
Stories of power and treachery, anger and spite. Most of these tall tales are fables conjured by aged Eldar trying to increase their claim on everything around them. Spread by the young and hopeful, wanting to tax a claim on such power. Stories told and remembered. The only real History of the city. Certain stories may be true, although such stories are rare indeed.
Warnings may possibly be found throughout these accounts, as even the most twisted must learn.
It might be the last shreds of honor, such a race may of once attained.

"Inquisitorial account
0001
Inquisitor: Daroth
Accounts from: Acolyte Eluard Mercer

Inquisitor Daroth has entrusted me with the responsibilities of accounting events of which I am told are about to unfold. Should he fail in his mission, I am to take up his mantle and carry on where he left off, continuing my reports for any who need to see them.
This is despite the fact these reports are wholly private. The information may become useful for other Inquisitors, particularly those who ally themselves within the ordo xenos. Whist I do not intend to share the information so eagerly."

"They say he was not one of us, maybe a slave, a nobody. Some whispers even say he wasn't Eldar. They say he somehow survived, and in essence turned into one of us. He never learnt to speak without going into madness and no translator understood him. He was definitely unalike, different, dissimilar, divergent."

"Master Daroth is to have an audience with a twisted Eldar from within the bowels of none reality, in-between the warp and real-space, about the disappearance of entire planetary populations, despite sufficient defenses on those planets.
This figure is not to be trusted. My master says it is easy to distinguish between the Craftwolrd, and dark Eldar once you know how. He also insists that regular Eldar should never be listened to, trusted, or even looked at, for they have more ways of lying than there are lies to tell.
According to Master Daroth, regular Eldar seem honest and inviting compared to their twisted kin, and that is something.
Yet he believes this dark figure is different.

I am not one to betray the trust of my master. But it must be noted that his actions have been ever more radical with age, and I am starting to doubt him. "

But no matter what they say, he was here and he took our customs. He made those who had only seen suffering, into grisly displays for the arenas, and took pride in this, gaining many a scar.  He gained more foes than friends. Not hard in Commorragh, so he fled from the webway, gaining power in real-space, in the end he was emergent.

"He seems to believe this one is different, he said, in what he called a moment of truth, but what I call a delusional state:
"It is almost as if this dark man, Eldar, thing... Was once Human, somehow. I am not one to defy logic for feeling, but he found me, and I am no slave in the spider realm they call the webway. He also seems to speak a language similar to that of a local planet, not the delicate Eldar tongue."

Despite the fears I have of my Masters state, if there is any truth in what he says, he will likely not be killed so readily. And if there isn't, then I will take up his mantle and his reputation will be unstained.

I pray to the Emperor that my master is mad, For some of the things he has mentioned are better off not being real. But even if he is mad, I must now be too. For I have witnessed many things throughout his tutelage, and I have come to trust him more than is logical.

End of Inquisitorial account
0001"

"They say he was not one of us, maybe a slave, a nobody. Some whispers even say he wasn't Eldar. They say he somehow survived, and in essence turned into one of us. He never learnt to speak without going into madness and no translator understood him. He was definitely unalike, different, dissimilar, divergent.
But no matter what they say, he was here and he took our customs. He made those who had only seen suffering, into grisly displays for the arenas, and took pride in this, gaining many a scar.  He gained more foes than friends. Not hard in Commorragh, so he fled from the webway, gaining power in real-space, in the end he was emergent.

Looks like a nice start

One nitpick, though: 'they have more ways of lying than they do telling truth'. Well, yeah, everyone does, because only a single answer is true, and all the infinite answers that aren't that one would be lies, right?

I'l edit it. Thanks for pointing it out though.

I'm intrigued ... I want to know more!

Also, I used to have a cactus collection. But that's beside the point

I like the different perspectives we are getting, and trying to sift out the truth ... well the 'truth' perhaps - remains to be seen ...

I'm so good I don't even know the truth
I need to think where I'm going with it, I've known a few really good things go to waste with a poor ending.

A lot has happened for me within the last week or so, so you could almost say I was "inspired" in writing this. This was only meant to be the introduction, as above in part 1. But because I felt it needed to be covered, it got a little longer than before.
This is not as such a story, but an introduction to part 2, so it is the story, but not... (It is still important enough to be a big part of the perspective I am hopefully giving)
Well this is rolling on, so read, enjoy, criticize (it's not negative until I cry [so never]) and maybe you will want to see more. If not then all I can say is thanks for getting this far.

Edit: I added the rest

What is honor in a place such as Commoragh? Is it the refuge for the strongest, tainted by madness and radical idea? The feebleness of the weak, unable to guide themselves through life, without others to thinking for them. No, honor has meaning in sentient life. Is honor to be found in Commoragh? It only has it's place as a side act, the starting performance in a deranged arena. Those touched by Commoragh, cannot hold onto any honor for long. Thinking they can replace it with depravity. This madness is not a curse; many a blessings can be found within madness for those strong or smart enough to look. Madness is for the strong, and is that all that matters?

No.

Honor.

Honor has its place in Commoragh.

Or does it?

Commoragh is defined by honor,
But not the honor of the masses.

Commoragh needs honor.

Honor is a great weapon in Commoragh. It gains you the respect of the lesser races, showing your right full place placidly. Not that many, if not any would agree.

No.

Honor still has its place.

Besides, those who mistake honor for weakness, as half-witted as it is, soon find themselves underestimating a powerful foe. In Commoragh it is common belief that everyone lies, which, in most cases is true.
But what happens when somebody doesn't lie?

No.

Honor is but some game in Commoragh.

The denizens of this place find it inconceivable that honor could exist within themselves. While the madness of another is masked with painful smiles of joy, these smiles are in no way deceitful. Neither are the words that come from them. Nobody is meant to be trusted, especially not those in power. But when they do not lie, they gleefully laugh as the dishonorable mass, in fact everybody around them try to stop an obvious plot never intended.

Yes.

Honor has its place.

"Inquisitorial account
0001
Inquisitor: Daroth
Accounts from: Acolyte Eluard Mercer"


"But to him it was all  some game,
Let them point, and laugh, and blame.
Let them realize, their own brought shame."

"Despite the Inquisitors increased deranged activities and radicalization, he has, in some miracle of the Emperor, secured information of raids. I feel as though he is aware of his madness. His madness is an interesting one. Of course most inquisitors are rife with madness at an early part in their career, some even going as far as to communicate with daemons to slay those they deem unfit, usually daemons. But communicating with Daemons seems easy compared to making an evil Dark Eldar, as even much look at you without seeing you, as you would see insects. Actually such a statement shows cruelty to insects, Dark Eldar see us as dust-mites. "

"Where was the mad meant to go, but to run away, never to show, a life un-worth it, even with foul play. Madness defined in naught but laughter, but not of authority of a god once gone, but of the madness of all life shattered. Of all useful knowledge, all soon scattered. Not that it thought, any of all mattered."

"This individual my master had audience with, was no Dark Eldar, not in the normal sense. Dark Eldar see communication with us, like talking to dust-mites. Dark Eldar prefer death by their small list of allies, than to even as much look at one of us with any kind of kindness known by such an evil race. This, is, in any eventuality, not an option. They leave no room for error, and would never be able to convince an alliance with a race like ours.
Actually I think they would ally with us, but only to fell personal rivalries, laugh at insane humor, purge two foes at once or maybe, for some reason beyond the comprehension myself, actually want to strike an alliance. "

"The madness consumed him, turned him into it. A madness, loosing all but wit. No it was toying with something, nobody can tell if it was playing with it's prey, or if the deeper intentions where to muzzle, and maim, and get revenge, on a broken master. In the end, it would soon slay."

"These reports, are not meant in anyway, to be on the nature of this Xenos. But, in such bizarre circumstances, they may be useful to help predict the outcome. To the point where an Inquisitor said to his apprentice that he would rather believe this mad figure once a man, than any form of helpful evil, shows, and justifies all and any doubt on the
Soon I feel it will be time to take my duties where they belong.
For now, I will stay in the shadow, find out all I can, and report on what my master has said. Or at least my view of the things unfolding. As I have stated, my master knows full and well of his madness, I think this is why I am reporting in such a manner. But there is nothing to report. "

"Of course who really cares, either way it was in our fashion. Of gladiators, in arenas, not a single remorse, no compassion. No, maybe he was too like us all. But he rejected ghosts, and plays of the fall. No, he knew the madness, and knew it well."

"Inquisitor Daroth has contacted the planetary governments giving explicit details, to the the point where people have started to believe the Emperor has granted him limited sight of the future. Nothing yet is meant to happen I am so Idly told by foolish lips. He acts himself as if he has seen the future. And as for his "acquaintance" then all else he did was laugh and giggle manically, if I can longer trust a fools word. To be mad, among the maddest of all madness in a world, consumed but nothing by it, that is something. And to be mad enough to audience and believe this madness, shows the fool an old man is. "

"It wasn't questionable, until it was banished, by many a blade, not as much moved, as a moment delayed. This was his madness, and all who mistook it for impuissance, surely soon paid."

"And about these coming battles, if they prove to be real, then I possibly may not be taking, in my view of current things, what may, but hopefully may not, be my rightful title. A heavy burden I do not wish, but one I do not wish bestowed upon ignorance, madness, corruption, or worse, the pride and trust in himself that let the invincible fall, lessons he should have learnt before he even knew of the greater cause he serves. "  

End of Inquisitorial account
0002"


"But to him it was all  some game,
Let them point, and laugh, and blame.
Let them realize, their own brought shame.
Where was the mad meant to go, but to run away, never to show, a life un-worth it, even with foul play. Madness defined in naught but laughter, but not of authority of a god once gone, but of the madness of all life shattered. Of all useful knowledge, all soon scattered. Not that it thought, any of all mattered.
The madness consumed him, turned him into it. A madness, loosing all but wit. No it was toying with something, nobody can tell if it was playing with it's prey, or if the deeper intentions where to muzzle, and maim, and get revenge, on a broken master. In the end, it would soon slay.
Of course who really cares, either way it was in our fashion. Of gladiators, in arenas, not a single remorse, no compassion. No, maybe he was too like us all. But he rejected ghosts, and plays of the fall. No, he knew the madness, and knew it well.
It wasn't questionable, until it was banished, by many a blade, not as much moved, as a moment delayed. This was his madness, and all who mistook it for impuissance, surely soon paid."

It's possible, though may be odd
That one of that one of your narrators
Is following the Laughing God
And serving something greater.

I could be wrong, I could be right,
We'll find out more thereafter
Perhaps today, but as they say
Can't spell slaughter without laughter.