"You are doomed to fail! Those wild green beasts will surely destroy you and thwart your schemes, because you are so weak that not even death will grant you a moment's release."
Within a secret chamber carved with sinister curses, a figure swayed in blood-red candlelight like an uncontrolled puppet performing alone.
"Ha, our voices will linger around your graves, and we will feast upon your souls."
"I hold every advantage, because I know where the Heart of Wendigo is and possess the final element needed for the ritual... Mock me all you like. Before long, I will be free of your incessant prattle."
"Your arrogance will destroy you, brother. You cannot even stop those loathsome bastards from coming. They could arrive at any moment and erase you from the mortal world."
"The Masked Prince? Shalak? He is too late. We have already wiped out half his forces, and they have yet to find a way to defeat the Orks. And do not call me brother. That title ceased to exist ever since..."
"Hannibal, was that the name? It is the mark of your rebirth. Do not forget it."
"No, that was not rebirth. It was a curse. Your mocking voices never cease when I am awake, and your faces cannot be driven from my mind when I close my eyes."
"I did not curse you. I wished to guide you onto the proper path, a broad road... Killing came easily to you. You proved that thousands of years ago. Everything I did was to give you a chance to offer those killings to a higher will."
"You are such a fool, Burnena. Killing, endless killing, exterminating entire worlds—is that the only way you can gain a brief respite from your eternal torment? So many worlds bathed in blood, so