The Legend... Soon after contamination, signs of the virus spread quickly through the village of Androphage. Fear and anxiety intensified as villagers, one-by-one, began to exhibit shocking symptoms; turning against each other in a gruesome hunt for flesh and blood. In no time the village was completely infected. The source of the deadly disease was a mystery, but fingers pointed at the primary victims of infection: the Apacheans, a family whose ancestors ironically founded the village itself. As the disease ravaged the ancestral family, turning them into voracious beasts hungry for nothing but the raw and bloody flesh of their fellow villagers, Apashe, the eldest son, was miraculously spared. Born on the reserve and trained in arts of survival, Apashe was taught to be a warrior; a defender of everything his ancestors believed in. His presence was unassuming, but the native blood that surged through his veins made him a powerful fighter. Witnessing the destruction his family had caused as the first to be infected, Apashe confronted them. There was no escaping their wrath, and so, amidst the madness in the household, Apashe reached for his grandfather's tomahawk. As he ferociously swung the ancient weapon at the savages, Apashe knew the flesh he cut into repeatedly was that of his own blood; his own family. Fighting for his life, Apashe's mind spun and anger rushed through his shaking body. In a final spit of rage and lunacy, Apashe managed to behead the last attacker; his father. Horrified and drenched in sinew he stood among the mangled remains, blood flooding at his feet. He had managed to escape their bloodthirsty urges. As he reached for the front door, he glanced back one last time at his dismembered family. His father lay closest, and reaching down and taking a two-feather necklace from his father's headless body, he made a promise to avenge whoever was responsible. Outside, the village was in shreds and crazed inhabitants dominated. Terror shook the land. There was only one thing left to do; burn them all. The smoke stung his eyes as he stood atop a ridge overlooking the smoldering village. Shrieks could be heard echoing through the impending night as the blood continued to drip from his grandfather's tomahawk that hung from his hand. With the village ablaze and the only memento now tucked into his hair, Apashe watched as his homeland turned to ash. Suddenly, through tear-filled eyes he noticed a shadow lurking near the edge of the forest; a shadow he hadn't seen since that fateful day the village revolted against one of its own. Shocked and appalled he quickly wiped the tears away; his blood bubbling as suspicion turned to disbelief. It couldn't be, but it was. Dr. Kannibal had risen from the dead. Apashe will have his vengeance.