"Most are refugees of the war. Angels and Demons that never wanted to fight. They just want to live in peace, and some don't want to live at all... But they make it through." He said, sitting forward. "Humans were hand crafted by God and The Devil. Their perfect creation. All the other animals were formed through Evolution. But Humans were crafted to never experience Evolution." He then stood up, stretching. "Ever since the Humans were created, there's been a war about who the Humans should be loyal to. The Devil wants them to carry out his destruction. God wants them to praise him forever. When Humans chose Neither, the two forces went into an all out war to try to force the Humans to one side. That's where the Protectors come in. No one knows who the first was. We don't pick a side, because we protect the Humans freedom to choose. Honestly, I don't know why we still do it. I don't question it. All I know is that I am a Protector, and I know what I was meant to do." He then picks up his sword, and sets it on a table, inspecting the handle.

"I'm meant to fight, but that means I'm also doomed to die for what I believe in. At the moment I am untouchable, because if I'm attacked, innumerable humans will die. Why do you even care? What have they ever done for you that you couldn't do for yourself?" He spins his axe in one hand, the other tracing the small ruins in his axe. He doesn't seem to notice the Vendor in the room. He looks around the room, his eyes....lost. "My only purpose is to fight, to destroy. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Humans taught me what creation never could. Humans have showed me that nothing is too big to overcome. They taught me hope. I choose to fight because I want to protect that hope." He says as he begins wrapping the handle in leather. The Vendor walks in, "The streets are clean. I will say, you two are the only Protectors that I have seen in a long time. I do hope that you stick around, or bring your friends back." He then walks to the counter and begins work as normal.

He shakes his head. "The only thing I've ever gotten is fear and rejection. But what do you expect when you're an exterminator, an outcast. A mistake. A broken, demented, creacher?" He sighs, laying his axe across his lap. "The only times I've ever interacted with humans was during war. What is my purpose, if not to fight?" His eyes glow softly orange.

"Well, you're not exactly the friendly type. You're only broken, because you let yourself stay that way." Athe says as he begins sharpening his sword. "Anything that is broken can be fixed. You just have to want to fix it." The sound of the stone against the metal is calming to Athe. "If fear and rejection is met with hate and violence, then nothing will change. You have to show them that you are more than a monster... Even if that's exactly what we are."

He shakes his head. "But all I am is a monster." He looks up, his eyes blazing. The faint sounds of screams of pain and fear come from his helmet, and scenes of incredible violence flicker in his eyes. "My only purpose is to fight. Without it, what am I?" His scythe and axe begin echoing the wails and screams in his eyes. "This is the only reason I exist, to fight."

"Friend." He says as he stops. "Take off your helmet." He slowly turns to look at him. "Release the pain and anger that you have kept inside. Violence is spawned from anger, pain, and fear. Just like the Humans, there is only so much that we can bear emotionally. You must learn how to release, to let go."

He sighs, and the helmet shimmers away, showing his true nature, a being of pure rage and battle. His white hot eyes stare at Athe in sad confusion. "How can I let go, if I feel it from everything surrounding me? My only purpose is to fight, to give humans, and Protectors, something to take their emotional turmoil out on, to prove their worth against. I am essentially a living target. What is there to let go? Without my battle fever, what am I?"

"There is so much that you don't understand. Everyone has the ability to change, yet few do." He says as he leans against the table. "You are a Protector. You must let go of the rage. You must put in an effort to change." He begins fixing the bandages on his arms. "Everyone can change. You just have to try."

"It's not that. I was literally created to fight humans. My scythe is designed to capture human souls, and my axe is for personal protection from other Protectors. Do you know what happened the last time I tried to give up my rage? I tried to help someone, but my help inadvertently has caused millions of human deaths. No matter who I side with, many humans will die. So why not stay on my own? I'm cursed anyway, why would I want to help one side of the war over the other?" AS he talks, his weapons glow and whisper in a strange language.

"Well. Use that. There are many humans that, unfortunately, know of us, and don't like us. They actively work to undermine everything that we stand for." He says as he goes back to sharpening his sword. "Almost sounds like a Bounty Hunter... Huh."

"Bounty hunters going up against a literal army of nigh immortal beings? Sounds like the line of work for a fool. Does this mean that I get to hunt them down and destroy them?" His eyes shine with battle fever. "I need to fight something. If I'm not fighting, I get angry, and I take it out on anything around me."

"Remember your job. Don't get too excited." He says with a small laugh. "We're still Protectors." He finished sharpening his sword. "Calm yourself."

He looks up, his eyes orbs of flame. "You don't understand. I really, really, need to fight something right now." He is visibly shaking.

"Well… I would say that we can train, but I would rather not be on the opposing side of that blade." He picks up his sword, sheathing it in the case.

He looks at his axe, realizing that it's magic has been activated. The glow fades away, and he slings it over his shoulder. "Sorry about that. I could just do hand-to-hand combat, where you throw things at me. I think that would work."

"I can throw things. I guess." He says as he slings the case on his back. "Where to?"

"Somewhere with heavy objects, preferably." He swings around his scythe, checking it's flawless balance.

"Well we can't go too far. We need to be ready if another rift opens." He said as he walks to the front of the store. The Vendor is busy organizing his shelfs, doing his "human" job. Along the walls are shelfs of food items, and basic medicines. In the corner are fridges filled with drinks and cold foods. The Vendor then notices me. "If you're going to need anything, take it. It's a tough world these days."

He grabs a large jug, and downs the whole thing. His eyes slowly stop glowing, and he sets down the empty bottle. "I don't eat or drink enough. Apparently, that makes me very irritable." He looks around, and shudders. He whispers, "What do I do? I'm designed to fight these beings, not get helped by them." He sounds....lost, like he doesn't know what to do anymore.