live to drink the blood of the innocents from goblets made of human skulls. I love to hear the tattered lamentations of those I've crushed, to see a shattered bleeding hulk of a once powerful Warrior crawl limply to me on all fours to lick my armored boot and beg for a quick and merciful dispatchment. I thrill with the power granted by me via foul incantations so unholy that their mere utterance blackens the lungs. Tears of joy greet my bloodstained cheeks when I inhale the pungent aroma of flayed flesh smouldering upon the wooden shards of blasted farmhouses, while my ears are filled with the piteous cries of terrified peasants scattering before my arcing blade. In all honestly, my goal within any world is to become the most powerful warrior and to stand atop a pile of indiscriminate human remains taunting the Gods themselves with my hideous unearthly strength.
All fail to understand the ominous and all-encompassing blood-might that is RazorWynd. Freed from my crystal prison at last, I will harken the end of mankind by riding in upon a wave of human blood astride a boat made of dead men's bones. Then I will open the seventh seal of the apocalypse, raising the dead and rending the earth open, moments before before the seas boil and the sky cries acid tears upon the shatterend remnants of diseased and broken humanity. Those who survive will crawl into the caves and pray that the mountains will collapse upon them and end their torment.
Supporter of "The Only Good fredster Is A Dead fredster" fan club