[i]I am rage[/i] The human had no chance as the axe cleaved through his chest at an inhumane speed. The nails were singing their song, and Brund was in its trance. Every part of his armored form was a weapon, cutting, crushing, and rending flesh and bone as his need for violence grew. As the last mortal fell he squatted over the corpse and drove his gauntlets into its back. With a wrenching and bubbling pop the human's spine and skull flew free of its body. Brund dropped his axe and held the spine and skull aloft roaring a terrible cry to khorne as his gene enhanced lungs echoed the sound through the empty halls. Then in an instant he returned, former legionary Azoth Brund, of the World Eaters. He lowered his trophy as he squatted and began to clean the skull. This was the only one to put up a worthy fight, and it got a lucky hit on an armor joint. Not the greatest of offerings but blood had been shed on both sides and that was all that mattered. Once it was clean of most of the gore he deftly poked a hole in it and threaded a steel cable from his belt into the skull. Standing he sighed and picked up his axe, this was all he knew now. The nails had taken his sanity, and now this ship had taken his memory. He knew only his name and the thirst for glory, and battle. Only, an itch of his former self remained. He shook his head as the possibility of remembering his purpose slammed shut like a steel trap, a chance only to be re opened by bloodshed. He began to stride down a service tunnel in search of a way to find his true purpose aboard this vessel of the lost. [i]Open[/i]