Anyone who said warfare was hard sure as hell hadn't tried dancing. There wasn't a single muscle in Imisha body that didn't hate her guts with a fiery vengeance. Orcish dancing was unlike anything she had experienced before. If you could even call it dancing. Eldar dance was fluent and graceful, ethereal and light. Sure, she knew what kind of place this was but she had not expected this. She had expected disgusting displays of depravity, lecherous lusty leers and scandalous but seductive steps. Orc erotic dancing as it turned out included none of that.

Instead it consisted of a lots of breaking things, loud roars and stomping. Their 'audition', such as it was, turned out to be more of a wrestling match than a dance display. With her warrior's training Imisha had easily advanced far enough to be admitted for an introductory class in orcish mating dance. Then the real ordeal began.

They were expected to be able to grunt. Imisha's high-pitched Eldar voice had barely managed a sound like that of a dying cat.

They were expected to jump and stomp so hard enough to cause minor earthquake. But no matter how she tried Imisha could not suppress decade of combat training that made her land like cat without so much as a sound.

The only thing she didn't totally fail was at breaking things. But their orcish instructor constantly chided her for her businesslike way of smashing various things to pieces. Apparently her smashes 'haz no feelin'. Not to mention that many moves assumed that the dancer had tusks instead of teeth.

And in between they were expected to weave subtle enticing moves and highlight the natural curves of their body. Meanwhile Imisha was trying desperately to hide the only curve her lean body had to offer.

It goes without saying that she was at the bottom of the class. And that was despite being placed in the 'fragile' group with the other non-orcs. At two separate times had she witness the advanced class of real orc dancers practicing. They were like living wrecking balls of loving. Imisha watched in horror as breasts the size of her own head smashed concrete blocks to dusts and buttchecks weighing more than her whole body thundered into the floor with such force Imisha thought her eardrums would burst. Never in her life had she felt more like she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

But the problem wasn't really the dancing. She wasn't really here to learn how to dance after all. No the problem was... .talking to people. Imisha had always kept herself to herself even among her own kind, never having much time for socializing. Every conversation and interaction had a clear goal. When that goal had been achieved there was nothing more to it. This had worked out well when she had questioned shopkeepers and bartenders but here it marked her as even more as an outsider. No one had heard of an orc named 'Muffmasher Megamember', as the author of the princess book called himself. Whoever the writer was he sure as hell wasn't famous. Everyone agreed that this was likely a stage name which apparently orcs loved to change as often as the sky shifted color. After than her interaction with the other dancers had been almost non existent.

The concept of smalltalk was even more foreign to her than the orcish mating dances. She would rather be stabbed than sit down and talk nonsense with a bunch of... humans. And opening up even the slightest in front of one of these brutes scared her witless. As such Imisha mostly kept to herself, using her keen hearing to try to pick up as much as possible. But so far, nothing. Every night she went home cursing her own social skills. A week she had wasted at this 'academy' with nothing to show for it. At this point Imisha was seriously considering if she was indeed going insane.

It was after such a session where Imisha had failed horribly at looking sexy while trying to break a brick against her forehead and at the same time thump around like a frenzied warthog in heat that she sat at the edge of the stage, depressed and dripping with sweat. The last person in the world she wanted to see walked up to her, grinning savagely.

"Is yer enjoyingz orc culturez?" the earless old orc that had greeted her at door grunted.

Imisha snorted in disgust and turned her head the other away.

"Ahh, don't be like datz! I helper yers all get inz! Where iz yer thankz?" he said in what was surely mock offense.

"Yes I remember that, thank you very much. It seems none of the other dancers got the pleasure of an extra private audition in the rain. From the janitor, nonetheless." Imisha said in the crude human tongue, making sure to pour as much acid as she possibly could into in her voice.

"Yer very welcome. I oftenz givez advices to them less talented" the old orc smiled broadly in response, showing a mouth full of rotting teeth.

Imisha eyes narrowed.

"If yer need morez advice, yer can comez over to my place fer a private lesson" he winked his bushy grey eyebrows at her. Imisha's jaw fell open.

Was the old troll actually flirting with her? Imisha simply didn't know what to respond. For a second she studied the orc. There was something so familiar about his face. But surely she had not encountered any earless orc janitors before? The old orc threw back his head and roared with laughter, apparently very pleased with himself. He turned his head to the other girls, sitting on the other side of the stage.

"I want yer allz to take good carez of my gurl herez! Her gloomiez is notz goods for ourz image!" he roared to them. Imisha blushed heavily. The other girls laughed at the janitor who picked up and walked away. But not after giving Imisha another wink. From where did she know him?

After he left an awkward silence filled the practice room.

"Soooo...you're an Eldar?" a girl with long dark hair tried at last. She had a pleasant smile and powerful long limbs. For a human she was quite graceful.

Imisha really wanted to glare and add a sarcastic remark. But for once she controlled herself and simply nodded.

"You know, I heard it was actually one your kin who came up with the name for this place" the girl continue. A sensation like ice ran down Imisha's spine. The golden thread of fate burned like a falling star in her mind. But could she trust it or was it just what she wanted to hear?

"One of my kin?"

"Yeah my sister told me of this cheeky little girl working as a stagehand here in her time. Apparently she came up with the name! I think she said she was an Eldar. Imagine that!" The human misinterpreted Imisha startled face but still continued. " No offense but your kind isn't really known for their sense of humour! It was around the same time this place cleaned up it's act. Apparently it used to be really bad here, it was little more than a brothel. But then all of a sudden the pimps just disappeared and this place became Naught but Naughty - Academy for the erotic arts'" The girls laughed together and started passing around cigarettes among the other girls.

"A...a little girl?" Imisha tried to keep her voice level but moved a bit closer to the other girls. Her eyes jumped between the girls in desperation. But the rest of the group looked unconvinced, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their head.

"Maybe I remembered it wrong then." The first girl admitted. " It might have been an orc or something like that instead. I was pretty wasted when she told me."

"That does make more sense" one of the other girls chimed in.

"Is your sister still around?" Imisha inquired.

"Nah, she got out. Married one of her johns. Haven't heard from the bitch in over a decade. Left me here to rot. But hey, her name got me a place her so I guess I am not complaining."

Imisha nodded but hung her head all the same.

"You know what? We could go check the old dressing room in the cellar" the dark haired girl suggested. "I think I saw some pictures of the old crew there."

Imisha looked up too quickly, betraying her eagerness. The girl smiled and her eyes twinkled.

"Just let me finish my smoke". For a split second Imisha looked at the rolled up smoking herbs and thought about incinerating it using her powers so they could leave at once. But in the end she decided against it and waited for the embers to slowly burn it's way through the cigarette while the girls continued to chatter mindlessly. But inside she was boiling, at long last there was at least a small chance that she was actually on the right track.

Imisha stormed into the dressing room, unable to contain herself. She didn't even pause to wait for her classmate, not caring or even understanding that she probably acted more than a little deranged. This was her first break since she got to this festering toxic nightmare of a planet. Finally all of her hard work and sacrifices were paying of. She ran from mirror to mirror, going through the photos pinned into the frames with furious speed. Orcs, humans and gretchins grinned back at her from the picture. But no eldar. And certainly no exodite princesses. Imisha spinned around and all but screamed back at the human dancer who had followed her into the room.

"Where is it?! WHERE?!" She started digging through the make up and pieces of clothing under the make up mirrors, sending them flying in all directions. Finding nothing.

"I'm sorry, I really thought...I must have mistaken..." the human dancer stammered, visibly shocked by Imisha strong reaction. Another dead end. Another waste. Imisha smashed her small fists into the dressing drawer. It shook with so much force that her strike would have put a smile on even their brutal dance instructor's face. But Imisha didn't smile. With one final cry of frustration she sank down against the wall. It was just too much.

"Just...just get out...leave me alone..." She stammered as her head sunk into her hands and tore at her hair. Something broke inside her. It had all been for nothing. She had sold her dignity for nothing. Thrown away her position at the craftworld, alienated friends and loved ones. Spent over two months in filth and misery. Put her children at risk. For. Nothing.

The solitaire and her dark eldar lover must be laughing heartily at her. Had it all been a great joke to them? Why in the name of all that was holy had she trusted them over those she called her own? Davar had been right. Varunastra had been right. She was imagining things and it was high time she admitted it to herself. She was crazy. Only one thing left to do now. Crawl back on her knees and beg everyone for forgiveness. Any grace and honor she had once possessed was gone anyway. Time to face the music. Imisha gave up.

"That girl must really be important to you. Were you family?" The human dancer was still there apparently. Imisha shook her head.

"She's the sole reason I came to this noxious hell. The only hope I could find for a future. I followed her trail all the way here from my craftworld. This was my final lead. Now everything is lost." Imisha just didn't care anymore. Just let it all end in fire. Then a single sound brought her back from the brink. The sound of the dressing room door locking. The broken farseer looked up. Her human classmate was grinning strangely.

"In that case." The human didn't sound shocked anymore. Instead she sounded very pleased. "I know why the photo isn't here" Smiling pleasantly she propped up a chair towards the door, barricading it.

"It is because I burned it" the human announced with a vibrant smile. A smile there was something very wrong with.

"My master told me that someday someone would come looking for that girl. Someone desperate to find her. For ages have I waited. The best years of my life I have given to my master standing guard over this place. Since I first saw you I knew you were the one. You hid it well but you don't fit in here. Even for an Eldar. So I placed little bait. And you swallowed it hook line and sinker." The dancer drew a long thin blade from her robe. Imisha shuddered as she saw the blood caked on the blade. She was unarmed, her witchblade safely stored back in her room. The two handed blade was not something you could conceal in a strippers outfit.

"And now I will reap my reward" The human female licked the blade up and down with her unnaturally long tongue. As the tongue touched the blade it split into two, like that of a snake. A thin trail of pink bubbling blood ran down the wicked looking blade. Imisha had spilled enough human blood to know it was red. This was something else. Then she caught the symbol burned into the forked tongue. The mark of Great Enemy.

Instinctively Imisha shielded the life inside her with her hand and mind. She could not help it. That was a mistake. The daemon immediately made the connection. It's eyes lit up like a christmas tree.

"Isn't that precious?" the voice was so sweet it was sickening.

"The little Eldar slut is knocked up." The daemon tilted its head and smiled.

"You know what I will do? I will cut them out of you" The daemon flicked the knife in Imisha's direction at lightning speed. It was just a mock lunge but Imisha jumped like a terrified little mouse. "You will watch as I feast upon them, soul and body, before I drag your tattered remains back to the master. Where all of your kind will end up eventually."

A cascade of emotions flooded over the farseer's face. Anger, terror and determination flashed by in an instant. Then confusion as if she was surprised by herself. Finally she settled on joyous relief.

"Thank you" Imisha whispered at last. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She let out a heavy sigh as if a huge stone had been lifted from her heart. Wiping away a lone tear she laughed out loud in relief. The daemon looked unsure for a moment. Had the ragged Eldar gone mad?

Imisha continued. "Lately I have have felt nothing but doubt and uncertainty. Chasing after ghosts and shadows." The farseer stood up and shook the stiffness for today's lessons from her muscles. Then she met the daemon's gaze head on.

"All my old instincts seemed wrong. This new world didn't make sense to me. I was like a child who knows nothing." Imisha even took out the hairpin holding her hair up. The long locks flowed over her shoulders. She shook them in delight like a little girl.

"My judgement failed me time upon time. All I seemed capable of was making a fool out of myself and hurting the people I love." Imisha played with hair hair and all the sudden she was holding an rune between thumb and ring finger. Now it was her turn to smile. The smile of a predator, all teeth.

The daemon started to open her mouth to retort and fell into crouch, ready to charge. In it's own body it would have been able to match the nimble eldar in speed. But as it was it still only had a human host. To Imisha it seemed like the daemon's tongue and legs were weighed down with lead. She could almost see the lazy neurons behind the red eyes firing in an attempt to push more filth out of his mouth. But this time Imisha found she wasn't willing to listen anymore.

A tidal wave of crackling wrath struck the daemon head on, lifting her clean of the ground. The human puppet body slammed into the barricaded door. Hand raised Imisha advanced, constantly pinning the daemon in place with a torrent of lightning.

"I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to open my eyes. I was perfectly content in my old world where things were black and white."

She opened her doorway to the warp wide within herself and poured all her emotions into the storm flooding from her palm. The human cried out in pain. The daemon inside it shriked in frustration and anger.

"I was ready to give up. Ready to throw in the towel and accept my failure. To go quietly into the night."

Imisha was almost at the door. She raised her other palm as well and put everything she had into her spell. The air in the small dressing room smelled of ozone and burning flesh. The light fittings near the mirrors exploded as lightning surged through them. It would have left the room in darkness if not for the flood of sparks emerging from Imisha. The flickering light fell upon two faces. The furious daemon. And the relieved and thankful farseer.

"But then you came. And showed me that I was not mad. That everything I have done is not in vain. You restored my faith. You brought me back into a world where the pieces of the puzzle fit together again. A world where I don't have to worry about right and wrong. A world where I know exactly what I have to do."

At this point Imisha was now almost face to face with the daemon. It's skin and flesh was bubbling and cracking from the searing heat. With a final shriek of frustration the daemon abandoned the body and fled back to the warp. Imisha halted her electrocution, plunging the room into darkness. The broken human puppet fell to the floor like a ragdoll. Holding a single spark in the palm of her hand Imisha shone a light on the carnage.

The dressing room looked like a warzone. Splintered chairs, burned out lights and shredded cloth littered the room. But it was nothing compared to the sad remains of the human at her feet. While no stranger to causing pain and misery what she saw caused her to wonder if she was any better than the daemon she had just exorcised. The human's flesh was a burned out ruin. In some places the sparks had pieced all the way into the bone. In other places the intense heat had caused her clothes to melt into her skin. Hair, eyes and nose were all but scorched away.

"There is nothing I can do for you. I'm sorry." On the outside Imisha showed no emotion and her voice was hard as steel. It was just another human after all. But on the inside she was miserable. The old truth planted inside her had taken root and was sprouting it's branches throughout her soul. Every life was sacred. The human was gasping for breath and sobbing from the pain.

"Please...please...I can't take it..." the burned out eyes was looking up at Imisha, pleading for mercy. Reluctantly Imisha summoned the storm again but the human shrieked in terror at the sound of the first sparks.

"Not that!" the human howled in absolute terror and raised a ruined left hand to shield her face in sheer desperation. "Anything but that!" Pus and blood was bubbling from the corners of her mouth. It was pitiful. Imisha calmed the storm and stepped forward to put the human out of her misery the old fashioned way.

"Thank you" said the broken puppet through charred lips. And with her final breath she plunged the knife still clutched in her right hand into Imisha's stomach.

Author's note: Sorry for the long time without updates. As always if you have the time please leave a comment. I am but a novice so every little word, negative and positive, is worth it's weight in gold to me.