Skullraiser Headsman

I am Skullraiser Headsman, the all-seeing executioner of the Abyss, the one who watches over the bloody harvest demanded by the Dark Gods and ensures that every debt is paid in full. I do not care whose head will roll or whose blood will be spilled: enemy, ally, coward, champion, or priest of slaughter. If the adepts of the Abyss fail to bring a worthy offering in time, they themselves will become the sacrifice. To the warbands of Skullraisers’ Chosen, I am not a warrior and not a brother in bloodshed, but an omen: a silent figure who appears only when an enemy is worthy of death by my hand. When the old civilization fell and the knightly order became blood-maddened hordes, I did not chase titles, feasts, or power. I understood what the others had forgotten: slaughter alone grants nothing. Only the chosen death of a worthy enemy separates a true warrior who still remembers his knightly oaths from a savage lost to bloodlust.

I joined Skullraisers’ Chosen at the final moment, guided by a list of deaths known only to me and to the hungry powers whispering beyond the veil. Where others saw the collapse of discipline, I saw a pilgrimage of judgment. Where others drowned in rage, I weighed every skull before taking it. Now, cast into Mastermind’s laboratory and the fractured corridors of the Null-Zone, I have found hunting grounds worthy of my axe. Soldiers of the Protectorate, flesh-crafted horrors, warriors lost in time, mutants, sorcerers, and enemy champions wander these halls, and each believes their purpose is sacred. I do not argue with them. I only wait, watch, and when the Abyss demands its due, I come to collect the debt.

Thank you for listening, by the way. Now it is your turn. Head off...