The hunger; Insatiable

[Necrosphere]

Talon looked across the hilly gorge, fierce exultation shining in his eyes. The dead were stacked around him, a poor mockery of a volcano, its only byproduct; blood, viscous and green. With a grim smile he wiped the dots of perspiration from his forehead not realising that it simply served to smear gore over his features.

His men stood fifty yards away, the shock on their features plain to him even from this distance.
They had just witnessed their commander destroy a unit of Kor in mere moments, the Orcs devastated as if a tornado had ripped them asunder.
With a wave of his arm he motioned them onwards towards the next group of Kor guardians, surrounding yet another catapult.

Talon surged from the shadows into the next group of Kor, his scimitars a blur as they smashed armour and bone indiscriminately. Arrows peppered the Orcs, the archers sending rapid volleys into the fray.
Talon narrowed his eyes as the last of his opponents fell, and again began to search for more of the foe to vanquish.
The victories were making him ever hungry, acting like a drug upon his system.
He wanted more.

[Necrosphere]

It had happened again. Somewhere within the battle he had lost his sense of self, becoming merely extensions of his blades, Bite and Claw. He had torn the Kor catapult guardians apart in the badlands, then moved north into the swamps and decimated the canite sabotagers, and finally slaughtered the hapless Koalisk in the deep swamps.
It was there, drenched in the green ichor of his foe that Talon had finally resumed control of himself. It was then that he wondered if Dragons raged out of control much, that he wondered if he was insane.
With an effort of will he submerged the thoughts, the questions plagueing him. Now was not the time for self reflection, now was a time for action. A scout approached him, murmuring softly that a vital stronghold for the dasarians was under imminent threat of becoming overrun. Talon looked to the gibbous moon, and his weary troops. Deciding instantly, he spoke
"We march at first light" he said to his troop, watching them watch him nevously. The bedraggled troops hunkered down to finish their ration of food and get some sleep before the all too fast approaching dawn, and another blood filled day...

[Necrosphere]

A mound of corpses surrounded the elf, his blades not even visible under the gore that covered him from head to toe. Sticky rivulets ran down his compact form, pooling in the creases of his armor, around his belt.
"S.s.s.s.s.sir?" A soldier spoke, his eyes wide with fear, his face a white mask.
Talons golden eyes flickered to the soldier, his lips drawing back in a feral snarl before he shook his head, spraying droplets of blood all around. His voice, when he spoke, was like gravel and glass being forced into comprehension
"Check for any of out injured that are survivors, kill any of theirs"
He pointed at the charnel house that was the field of battle "And clean this mess up. No feast for the crows today"
The soldier nodded and practically fled to carry out his orders. Talon moved to a nearby rock outcropping and looked over the slaughtered masses.
"A beast I am, lest a beast I become" he murmured to himself quietly. Two clear rivulets wound their way down his face, mixing with blood as they fell to the stone
"But what instead have I become?"

[Necrosphere]

Talon sat idly in the threshold of his tent, his eyes locked to the fire several feet away.
Watched it as it hissed and spat at the ceaseless rain that threatened it's very existance. It would flare up in rage, before becoming quickly subdued. He knew that feeling all too well.
"We are brothers" he said to the campfire, a slightly crazy grin on his face. He continued to watch as the flames grew lower and duller, the cavorting dancers of orange and red whisked away by the deluge. Slowly steam began to rise instead of flame, a dull hissing heralding the beginning of the end
"This is for you brother" Talon spoke softly, then drew a breath, slowly releasing it in a torrent of flame that shot into the campfire, re-lighting the hissing wood, banishing the water and steam in an instant.
Flames roared again in the night sky as the fire devoured the wood, consuming the thick lumber, arming itself against the relentless rain. Talon smiled softly and basked in the glorious heat.