Deep in the realm of chaos, far into the circles of seduction and nestled far from the beaten paths of the Circle of Vainglory lies a bramble ridden, untended portion of Slaanesh's garden. No daemon is permitted to enter, under pain of oblivion, and Slaanesh itself visited only once before departing in such a fury that no amount of drink, indolence or excess could becalm him for a great time. Within this one, solitary corner of the pristinely kept pruned maze is a lone statue in the shape of a man. Naked and simple, with flaws of scar and battle upon his body.
Though Slaanesh will not speak of it, and those who know of it dare not utter of it's existence within the Prince of Pleasure's garden. Here alone is the curse of the circle of Vainglory turned upon it's master, for the statue, who's plaque of identity has been stripped away by furious fingers, speaks not in tortured repetition of it's own failures, but those of Slaanesh itself. Yet in spite of Slaanesh's great fury, he is too prideful to let the soul free, and so a single voice, hidden amongst the cacophony of tortured wails and sobs that is only heard by those who had fallen into Slaanesh's clutches, speaks out in mockery of the lord of that debauched realm.
One might ask, why would Slaanesh allow such a soul to thrive in the depths of his realm, so close to the seat of his own power?
Only two beings in existence know of the cause, one is Slaanesh itself, who will not admit, nor does it believe, that even it's vast power has limits. The other...Will speak her tale, in good time.
