Writing legend:

Kriegs spoken word; ALL CAPITALS, ALL THE TIME!

Kriegs Inner monologue: Bolded sections.

Everyone Else: Normal typing with quotation marks.

Anima, Animus.

A Borderlands Story.

I woke up, squinting into the desert sun. I would say that I'm confused as to how and why I'm here, but this happens more frequently then I'd like to admit. Looking down, I notice that my hands and pants are smeared with blood, maybe mine but I can't be sure yet, all I know is that I'm standing in the middle of a pile of bandits bodies again.

Hey, meatbag. Had fun did we?

Oh well, I guess I can't blame you for it can I.

"Woke up" might not be the right term for what just happened. If I was sane, I would probably say something like "Let me start at the beginning..." But I'm not really sure when the beginning was. My memory is limited in the specifics department, only remembering the important things or constants in my life. I am affectionately known as a "Psycho." Nice eh? It basically means I'm a perversion of the Berserker style of life. Great risk, with great rewards. Immense energy expenditure allows me to overwhelm opponents, charge in for the one-hit-kill. Usually taking damage in the process. Damage taken fuels the frenzy. It's really a perpetual spiral that drives itself into one of two outcomes. I die, not pleasurable, but it hasn't happened yet. Or this happens. I regain consciousness in the middle of a battlefield, injured and bloodied trying to piece together where and when I left off.

Oh gods, this has got to stop.

Alright, look around, let me take a look at you, check for injuries that need attention.

TIME WAITS NOT FOR THE GLORY OF THE BLOODY CARNIVAL!

Fantastic. Shut up, and let me keep us alive, okay?

GRRRAHH! MINI MEDIC KEEP US ALIVE UNTIL PURPLE!

Thank you, just show me our body. Use some of that water to wash the blood off so I can actually see if we need fixing.

After forcing myself to hold out my arms and check all the vitals, everything looks to be in one piece. Hopefully I can find some good loot on these guys then figure out where the hell I am.

Hey, still here? Look around, grab any food they have, then lets get away from here and find our bearings.

After checking all the bandits, and finding nothing more than a tough hunk of bread and some old condensed milk cans, I figure it's about time for a break. Sit down, eat, and try to remember who I am.

Mmm... I know we have a name, but I don't know what it is. But we're looking for someone... Not to kill, we need to find this person.

LOVELY LADY IN MY CHEST, MUST BE HANNUKA!

Oddly enough, that was actually helpful. We need to find a girl, she's important because of something. I'll come back to that. Alright, we ate, now lets get out of here, find a hill or something to climb so I can get a good look around.

BUT THE RAVENS BEAK IS A TIN HAT OF GLORY! I WANT TO SAW IT OFF!

Umm... I don't know what you want... Wait a moment.

Knowing he won't listen to me until I at least try to figure out his ramblings, I start to look around for something bird like, or silvery... or made of metal. I'll probably have to break it off, whatever it is.

I grumbled around under the hot sun for a few minutes before a shine caught the corner of my eye, and I swung my head around to see a half-buried contraption that looked like a curved baseball bat with a table-saw blade attached to it, welded into a sleeve to allow it to spin freely.

Shiny... A shiny saw. A fricken' axe? That's it! You couldn't have said AXE? Unbelievable. Just get us out of here before we die from the heat.

PUT IT IN MY SPEEN SO I CAN BLEED WEAPONS!

I'll take that as you liking it. I agree, it suits us.

Spotting a hill in the distance, I decided to start walking to burn off some frustration. As angry as I was about the incoherent nature of my dominant half, he did a good job at picking an attractive weapon. As far as melee goes, this will just about win every battle you put it in. Looking it over, the previous owner cared for it, but didn't use it very often. It was mostly brown wood, the metal painted blue and red with the banner "BLITZKRIEG CO." stencilled into the side, but some of the letters were worn out. Leaving just the word "KRIEG" to be seen. As we reached the top of the slope, it turned into a rocky cliff face, giving an outlook on most of the surroundings for a few hours walk in any direction. Looking back to the pile of bodies left behind, then back out, spotting a train station. I figure it might as well be a good place to focus on so we don't get lost.

See that station? Follow the tracks so we don't end up walking in circles like last time.

I said this, assuming he would listen, but he was standing dumbly at the top of a hill, still staring into the letters etched on his newfound weapon.

Hey, look up so I can show you where we're going.

YOU SHOW ME A BUCKET, AND I'LL SHOW YOU A BUCKET!

A PRETTY TRINKET FOR NAMELESS! A BAD NAMELESS.

Oh you want a name? Too bad, we don't have a name.

The massive figure hunched over the axe, peering at it with his one uncovered eye, concentrating hard at it.

WE HAVE, KRIEG... KRIEG...

Krieg? War? Huh, figures. I guess I see your point.

Feeling satisfied at his contribution, the newly named Krieg climbed down the front of the rock-face, and made his way to the tracks, humming as he tossed the axe up, letting it complete a full turn before catching its handle again. Now relaxed, the two voices quieted as they made their way slowly towards the distant station.