I come back from the day's battle with blood covering my spikes and fleshy-brain-parts covering my mace. War is a gruesome business. Someone has to do it though.
People say I am a creature of few words. The Keeper, somewhat of a special case like myself, mocked my war-voice. Ok war-voice. What is a war-voice, you ask? My war-voice is something of a persona I carry into battle with me. I talk like I have a speech impediment to lull my enemies into a false sense of security. Works every time.
Duhhhh simple ole' Armadon spikin' em. Thats what they think. But what is really happening is me commanding the regulars under my breath, giving complex orders concerning feints, attack strategies, etc. They take me for a simpleton and I abuse that mindset. Armaheina, my ex-wife, loved that about me.
Hellbourne? More like Helldumb.
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