Black death stalks the Axiom. Not as a plague but as daemons, Dommu's Spawn coming to wreak his wroth. Can we survive?
Snatched from a peaceful world, I had my head baptised in the fires of war at the age of ten. Death follows me and swords can only postpone the inevitable. Friends are few these days and when you are tainted enemies are many.
But on this verge I stand, toes curled over the edge, staring into the precipice where my life once resided. Take my hand. Stop me from falling. Ha! laugh as I might, already my legs are going weak at the mere thought of the eternal void that will embrace me at the end of my hundred mile journey to Earth. Take my hand, Mama. Hold me back, Dommu, for your brood has taken from me everything I could ever love. Mother, friends...even my own selfish life.
I spit over the edge of the Cataclysm and watch my black sputum disappear into the forever. Now comes the Sun, its great eye, the only one witness to my betrayal of flesh. I spit again and fling myself over the edge, too late now. Recount my tale at your whim, Death is all that will know my name, now.