Heartcleaver

A greataxe towering at 20ft long, the weapon of Abyssal creation glows with evil energy, whispers and cries seems to emanate from within. Stolen from the blinded Valmoth at the battle of Vester Keep, in which the hordes of the Demon Lords marched upon the prison of Kur'ixan and bring him back to the material plane.
== Research ==
=== Completed by Lost Flame ===
Cold to the touch, the obsidian beam of the greataxe seems radiate a cold eldritch energy. Droplets of violet liquid seep up the spine of the relic, going against gravity and pulling to the head of the blade. Gold adorns this obsidian weapon, leading to the head where a the skull of a demon's head has been cast in gold with burning eyes of sapphire that emanate dark abyssal magic.
Holding the axe in hands, a mist overcomes your sight, screams overcome your senses, pupils dilate until the hues of eyes are as dark as the Abyss. Sight is returned to a state of anamnesis, gazing upon the shadows of the past. A desolate hell, a void of darkness and near volcanic landscape with no essence of life. Fires burn from the earth, erupting with ash and embers, giving little light to the shadows that consume the realm. Eyes settle, senses return... but not alone, as the screams and whispers become lucid.
"Do you feel it? The darkness of the void. A land of the lost souls, those who have been forsaken, those too weak to find their way... joining the armies of the Abyss to join the impending wars to come. I was not made for you... yet I desire what Valmoth will not grant me... if I will suffer this purgatory, then I will fulfil the destiny that bore me life...".
Shadows fill the void, releasing upon a sight. An obsidian temple, dripping with vile green extract that sends a vapour of iron and acidic secretions through the air. A dark podium, carved from blackstone to an seven pointed star, engravings of abyssal runes light up with a glade green hue. No figure seen, yet red eyes peer through the darkness, the crackling of fire within each passing breath that echoes and shakes the ground. An entity, sick and depraved, immortal yet broken. The sound of steel rings, as links clatter and shake against each other with each expiration of the void's maw. Five demon Lords stand before a creature of vile darkness in the shadows, bowed and bent before the breaking fires in the shadow. A hooved feet and horns of a Minotaur, the broken horn and glaive of an Oni, the black spiked pauldrons of a towering Orc, the shield bearing the flayed skin of his enemies, and its Gnoll wielder. The last, great wings split from its spine, its body bloated and heavy, its skull horned and twisted as the razored tail that flickered from side to side.
"Five Lords. Five Chosen... Four to be crowned as Princes of the End. One to suffer in the name of the Darkness."
The crackles of embers and breaking cragged rock broke through the temple, fires burned and broke through the heptagram upon the blackstone. Bubbling and bursting, until a gleaming axe of obsidian rose from the fires and settled upon the lava's surface. Smoke rose with the deep abyssal laugh bellowed and haunted the temple.
"Betray... Rise... Lords of the Eternal End. Servants of the Elder... betray...".
Screams followed the final word, the Demon Lords breaking steel against flesh as darkness overcame the temple. The deep crackling laugh of the darkness grew as the Lords broke steel, bones and bonds. The screams grow within the mind, whispers of betrayal, screams of rage and anger, betrayal haunts the essence of your soul. You feel the gripping hands of the Minotaur at your neck, squeezing the life from your very being, the life halting as the darkness seeps in. Chains hold you down, unable to move, trapped and imprisoned. The bonds shackle you against the fires as four shadows stand above you, red eyes peering down with glee at the torment of your soul.
Nothing. Darkness. The End. Yet still, the grip of Valmoth tightens upon your neck. You scream, you cry, your rage into the endless void but hear only the breaking chains of the roaring end, howling in your torment. No crown upon your head, no mace within your grip, no wings to soar the skies. 
The sapphire hue of sight returns. A hunger follows swiftly. Each drop of blood, each demon's heart, never to return to their endless suffering.
"But it is ever enough. I shall never be sated. I shall never rest until I have gorged upon their very essence. This is my creation. This is my purgatory. The manifestation of betrayal and the Elder's pact. The chains will hold me. This prison of obsidian is my domain... but I am hungry... the hunger is unbearable. You feel it... you feel what I feel. You see what I see. You hear what I hear".
Demon's lay lifeless upon desolate wastelands, no ash remains, to fall into the wretchedness as their forms fail them. Their soul broken, their essence stolen. The hunger... gratified for a single moment.
"It is not enough... I must gorge upon their souls until only darkness is left for them. No purgatory for them to find their sufferings rewarded. I will feast upon them all. Congest their souls, spirits, flesh and mind. My hunger is eternal... as is the darkness of my birth".
Shadows blind once more, before the sight of an endless sea and throbbing eldritch mass. Blackened hearts pulse and palpitate, each in a rhythm that sends echoes of screams of agony, calling and crying for the end of the darkness. A sea of abyssal hearts, beating, singing, trembling... and the hunger sets in. Your stomach rumbles as you look upon them.
"Even this endless sea was not enough. I hunger for more, the hearts of the Lords, the hearts of the betrayers, the hearts of my undoing, the hearts of the Abyss".
At last, the visions fade. Your eyes are yours, though your eyes tremble with the axe in hands. One final whisper before silence.
"Let us feast...".