Axius

Axius was realising he was absolutely drenched in blood. His own that had dried from battle, his enemies and his clan's. In the reflection of his company's shield, he was unable to recognise himself. Last time Axius saw himself, he donned prideful black armor and that brutal weapon on his side. Sure he was intimidating, but everyone knew the equipment was honorably won. A symbol of a hundred battles, a warrior...

He was about to take off the mask, but it stung as he gripped onto it. Just a little bit, but he was discouraged. That skull was not his own, it was someone else's. He was wearing someone else, artfully only the most sharp remains as well. A murderer, a fellbeast. Opportunistic, and brutal in the way he declared it. Without his cleaver, every battle was fought tooth and claw. His mouth so rancid, every vicitm to his bite would decay regardless.

Axius wondered if this was all for his charge. Or if he had truly gone mad without it. Bloodsurge, she had it. So close to her rancid and decay, but he could not defeat her. Not at this time.

Looking at the reflection again, that hollow creature looked back. He was terrified, in truth. The horrible things he did to his own clan, just for that cleaver. Or rather, his failure to keep it. Maybe his downfall was already happening? Axius didn't know. He would keep the mask on. One day would come where he had his charge again, then he would take it off. Then he would be himself again.