Deep in the heart of the Dreadnaught, a warlock sat leaning against the side of a hive gateway. He was flipping through the pages of an old journal, written years ago by an infamous warlock he knew all too well, and yet barely knew at all. The journal of his father, Toland the Shattered. "Damn Pops, knew that you had some kinda Hive fetish... But this..." Dante sighed, closing the old book and tucking it away in his coat. He pushed himself off of the frame of the hive gate and studied it for a few moments. "This is just insane..." Blights started to appear all around him. He smiled, and drew his Raze-Lighter. He let the blade rest against his shoulder, and called out to the night. "So I was right. You don't want me going after dear old Pops eh?" And the night answered. [b][i]You should not delve into matters you barely understand, boy.[/i][/b] "Aw, you do care." [b][i]Silence.[/i][/b] (Öpen)