(Warning, the following chapters contain Dark Eldar in all of their malevolent depravity. (Insert Generic Warhammer 40K Ownership Disclaimer))

Notes from Inquisitor Clark's Journal

"No one truly escapes Commorragh", so said another survivor of that nightmarish hell. He was right, my body is not only covered in the physical wounds of my time there, but my mind and even my soul have been permanently scarred as well. When I am alone, I can hear the screams of my fellow slaves and the mocking laughter of my captors. When I sleep, I relive the nightmare over and over again. A part of me wonders if I have even escaped at all. Have these past 30 years have been nothing more than an elaborate ruse on the part of Archon Taelbeirt. That any moment now this illusion will shatter and I will awaken in his home completely broken. He called his Kabal the Kabal of Cruel Mercy, a highly appropriate name for them. Archon Taelbeirt is a highly erratic individual, one moment showing mercy and generosity to his slaves, the next ruthlessly beating, torturing, and killing them all the while laughing like a maniac. I have come to the conclusion that he believes his acts of horror are even more potent when coupled with his periods of mercy. This creates a highly unpredictable environment where all slaves and servants are on their toes. It certainly kept his followers on their toes. You could spill a tray of food and be told that accidents happen while he helps you clean it up. You could clean his throne room to perfection and then receive the beating of a lifetime because you missed one tiny spot at the very tip of his throne. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing; constant pain and torture can get old after awhile. He found a way to keep it fresh and interesting.

Nathaniel and Sarah wore still hurting from their branding as they came upon the other raiding forces that had descended upon the planet.

"Nemorah, get me an update from the dracons, it would appear that overall our raid was successful though some are missing." Archon Taelbeirt commands his consort and hierarch.

"Certainly my lord" she pulls out a glowing pad and begins to press the buttons, a few moments later she gets the info she needs. "We lost dracon's Melvder, Yolto, Garma, and Trenilaspatiel, the first three to Orks and the last one to the planetary defense forces."

"No loss there, none of them were particularly competent, thought I will miss Yolto's singing voice. Come my dear, lets meet up with the remaining Dracons and count our spoils; I don't think our slaves will be going anywhere." The Archon and his retinue leave their raider and head toward where the Dracon's are gathered. The captives chained, sealed in cages, and too tired to even try to escape. It is in this state that Nathaniel finally breaks down into tears.

"Stop your crying, now is not the time to be showing weakness." His stubborn and tough older sister scolds him.

"Our family abandoned us, our planet has been overrun, we were chased like wild animals for two days, and now we are being taken by the Unseelie King to his dark realm."

"What?"

"Remember the fairytales grandma told us before she died, about a dark fairy king who emerged from the woods and stole away disobedient children to his realm of nightmares. That is what is going to happen to us, the stories were real and he is the Unseelie King."

If Sarah had not had her hands tied behind her back she would have slapped him. "You idiot, there are no such things as fairies, these are aliens, enemies of humanity. They are fresh and blood beings, didn't you hear that four of their raiding bands were taken out? They may have been the inspiration for those stories but there is nothing supernatural about them."

"But they are still going to take us to their city of nightmares."

"That may be true, but that is no excuse for you to be blubbering like a baby, grow up and be strong. You should never give your tormentors the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You are a child of Mantanya, we are a proud and strong people, and these Dark Eldar will see that we do not break so easily." The tears finally stop flowing while Nathaniel tries to put on a smile. "That's my brave little brother, now why don't you use your witchcraft to get us that canteen by his throne. I don't know about you but I am parched."

Nathaniel focuses his mind on the canteen, a golden container branded with all kinds of grisly and terrible images. As he pulls the canteen closer he notices a shadow looming over him. He turns around to see the Archon standing over him, with a bone chilling smile on his face. With his concentration broken he drops the canteen.

"So boy, you're a psyker, well we can't have you running about freely with your powers now can we." He pulls a collar from behind his back and puts it around Nathaniel's neck, it tightens enough to let him breath but still feel uncomfortable. Barbs pop out and dig into his skin to hold the collar in place.

"That should sufficiently suppress your powers; consider yourself lucky that I have taken an interest in you. If you were just an ordinary psyker your fate would be even more unpleasant than the fate that waits the normal mon-keigh. But why didn't you tell me that you were thirsty?" He walks over to the canteen, picks it up and carries it back to Nathaniel. He unscrews the top and a foul coppery smell emanates from it. The Archon forces Nathaniel's mouth open and pours the entire canteen down his throat. The foul bluish-purple liquid and metallic taste makes him cough. Sarah moves vainly in an attempt to stop this but Nemorah pushes her to the ground with her foot.

"Come now boy, Tau blood will make you strong, you were thirsty after all." Nathaniel gags at this while Taelbeirt laughs like lunatic. While this is going on the raiders make their way toward the planet's hidden webway gate, en route to Commorragh.

Inquisitor Clark's Journal (annotation to the previous entry)

They say that the tale of the Dark Eldar is the tale of evil incarnate. I have to say that their definition of evil pales in comparison to what the Dark Eldar are truly capable of.