I was made an Apostle of Judas, one amidst his holy flock of assassins, the Iscariot...

I was made the Eternal instrument of God's Will. The monster who revers God...

Even now, I carry within my bosom, the last of Rome's long-lost holy artifacts, the lingering scent of an ancient miracle; the Nail of Helena.

Even so, that is not who I am. I'm just a guy that wants to get home, to see my family, to get my life back and pretend that none of this ever happened. And yet here I remain, trapped in a world not my own, the Sacred Nail that pierced my flesh now compelling my to seek out and slaughter the blood-sucking heathens that walk the night.

If I have to carve out a path through this field of thorns, so be it. If I have to stain these blessed bayonets red with undead blood, so be it.

But I will find a way home, one way or the other.