image modified from here
There was, within him, a beast whose sole purpose was to destroy. He had known it since birth—his purpose was that of some long dead god of chaos, set out into the world without a guide and without true meaning. Ezekiel had given him that meaning. Inferni had given him that meaning. A yellow eyed terror bled onto the grass beneath his feet and challenged the dark man rushing towards him. Max released the arrow and watched it sail through the air, clipping the stranger’s horse in his throat.
This did not kill him, but panicked the beast into rearing so sharply it threw the rider. Max rushed forward, throwing his bow to the side. A massive weight collided with the man even as he struggled to his feet. Training brought him down, but it was savagery that ended him. The hatched came down and struck hard in the man’s throat, cutting deep enough to open it. Blood poured from the wound and again, Max brought his arm down, and again, he cut him. He was snarling as he did so, bleeding and coating himself with each motion. This was what he wanted. This was what war tasted like.
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