The Old One’s Hatred

[Confused Word Bearer]

“Have you come to gloat at me again? Or have I been awakend to do battle for once?” He let out a pained, barking laugh, the sort that would haunt whatever unfortunate mortal could hear it. It was fortunate then, that his guest was no mere mortal. “Or perhaps you’ve come for advice to a problem even you cannot solve, my wayward apprentice.”

 

“This time you are lucky. We are to do battle against loyalist forces. You will be able to unleash your wrath upon whatever poor souls dare to stand against you. Or perhaps you will die, and finally be freed of my presence. Does that please you?” There was a smug sort of contempt in his voice for the ancient one.

 

“I would slay you where you stood were I able. It is hatred that keeps me alive, trapped as I am in this sarcophagus. The one you forced me into. It is hatred for you that keeps my mind clear from the madness that torments others in similar fates. I wonder, is this what it is like, to be touched by the Blood God? How his worshippers feel?” He let out another hideous peel of laughter at this, pain clearly heard within his voice. “Know that I alone will be the one to stand over your corpse one day. Your head crushed beneath my boot like the traitorous dog you are.”

 

“We will see. I have bested you before, and I shall do so again, if I must. But you know the Host will not follow you. Not anymore. They follow me now as their Apostle. You have been replaced, mentor.” He looked over the wretched thing, trapped in the dreadnought’s sarcophagus. The pitiful creature he once called his mentor before usurping his position from him and wrenching control of the Host for his own glory. He despised him so.