Necrosing tissue eats away at him. He suffers the pain, the torture, the terror. All in a bid to protect his loved ones. His body be used up, and his mind is worsening. Soon, he will feel nothing. Not even hope. And yet he continues in his vain bid: for nothing can take his spirit. They have his body, his life, but he will never, truly, succumb, never yield. But it is to the afterlife, he must go. As much as it pains him, he says goodbye.
One. Last. Breath.
He is gone; left this mortal plane; died in anger, madness, fear and hate. For what? Bounties, to which, he has no right? Family ties? Nobody knows, yet still, he fights. For he was once a proud warrior, fighting the good fight. Many lives he has saved, over the centuries, through the aeons, many more he has taken. But now he wanders. A dead shell in limbo, seeking redemption. A once brave, strong warrior, taken by insanity. Taunted, he forever seeks forgiveness, redemption and solace from his sins.