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Tor'trol, Torobatl

Thur'Ak stood with his superheated blades held high. He stood against Thrall one hundred strong. He killed the first twenty with bellowing roars and bone-cracking blows. Those behind didn't falter. Didn't break.

They didn't fear pain.

They didn't fear death.

So neither could he. Thur'Ak hollowed himself out. Roars faded to low grunts, full of exertion and without rage. Without feeling. The emptiness was as alien as the idea of drawing a blade in violence within Tor'tral's golden markets, but he embraced it. Not out of anything other than necessity. Than desperation.

The next twenty fell and he welcomed the next with open arms and flashing cleavers. He fought. They scrabbled against his armour, trying to break within, but he fought them off. Fought them for as long as he could. And they died.

[Cleanse thyself of your decay, exult in the hated truth I bare to you]

Another twenty took their place. His arms began to tire. One of his blades cracked. Thur'Ak embedded the broken hilt in a Thrall's skull and swung a clenched fist in its stead. Chitin shattered beneath his hands.

[Flesh and mind are but cages - break free]

Behind him, a tower of chitinous matter sprouted from below the ancient mosaics laid down by his ancestors. Tiles were carelessly tossed aside. Glorious histories cracked on the market floor. A whisper drifted through the air, cutting through the shrieks of Thrall and his own pounding blood with surgical precision.

[I see you in your entirety: your strength and weaknesses, dreams and fears]

Thur'Ak shook with hunger. Hunger for something improper. Something wrong. Something Dark. So he killed. Again and again.

[You are the sum of your parts, be more]

A Thrall leapt onto his shoulder. He grabbed it and crushed it in his palm without so much as a conscious thought.

[Allow the flesh to break its chains, that it may rise above what it was]

The final twenty reached him. They were larger than the rest, for they fed on the deaths of those left behind. They were strong. Fast.

He would have to be stronger and faster.

[I offer you an elixir, Take it.]

Thur'Ak ripped the gift from the hand that held it and fought on. He slew the Thrall with cold malice and, eager for more, sucked in the sweet taste of bloodied air.

[Be free]

Thur'Ak bellowed into the sky as his flesh was rent and his mind fractured.

[Be free]