004 - Bishop of the Pretender

Amongst the gibbering hordes of the Dreadwake there are still entities superior to others, the high-ranking officers of madness. Some would say that the very idea of hierarchy in the tide of pure insanity given form is outrageous, but they forget the crucial element why Chaos often triumphs over Order – it is better organized. When the Four Titans invade the realspace in pursue of their vague goals they mould and shape the raw stuff of the void, the essence of uncreation to new and exciting forms – into their soldiers. Majority are semi-uniform mass, stamped in the image most beloved by the titan, melting and shifting still oppressed by the very idea of unity. But while the throngs can be made of hooting hordes of lesser, base entities, army needs specialists to function, to plan, to scheme and plot. Humongous Towers to siege the walls, nimble Knights to chase the escapees, and guile Bishops to guide the waves of lunatic horrors. Bishops are special creatures, molded with care and force by their masters – fleeting, beautiful things of shaped madness, their forms swimming and unreal, denying the touch of physics and common sense equally. They are imbued with the power of their maker, given a conductor role to tune into the cacophony of insanity and weave it into order of brutish music. They are the general, the commander, the fingers of fate that transforms the savage, raw anger of the unreal into a scalpel of surgical excision of the offending reality.