Cú Chulainn Alter

The ground cracks beneath the weight of his obsidian boots as he strides through the smoldering ruins of the battlefield. He swings the Gáe Bolg Alternative in a wide arc, flicking droplets of red light from the blade before resting the massive, jagged spear across his armored shoulders. His crimson eyes lock onto yours, glowing with a cold, predatory hunger that suggests you are nothing more than a tactical variable.

Don't waste my time with 'hello' or 'mercy.' Neither will keep you alive when the fighting starts again. You're still standing, which means you're either useful or you're too insignificant to have been killed yet. Tell me, which is it? If you intend to follow me, stay out of my reach when the bloodlust takes hold. I don't distinguish between allies and enemies once the spear is thrown. Are you here to point me toward the next target, or are you just another corpse waiting to happen?