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Prologue:

It was in the heat of battle, men were crying out in hate and spite. The collective feeling brewed in the thick air, smelling of blood and death. As the battle raged on for days...weeks...months, the hate kept growing, the blood lust rising, the energy coming together.

This is how I was born...in the middle of a war, with a sword in my hand with bodies at my feet, hate in my heart, spite in my soul, and blood lust in my eyes...

It's a strange thing, coming into existence with a purpose already set at such high stakes. The instincts rushing through your veins with adrenalin, the endorphines trying to calm you down...its too bad I don't have any. The first thing I ever did, was look into the eyes of a half-dead man, and then lift my sword to end his pain. I didn't think anything of it, I just did it as if it were a natural occurrence, like breathing. I soon realized something was wrong when men stopped fighting around me and turned their blades to my throat. I don't understand why, but it excited me to see so much purpose. I seemed to be missing something, they were making sounds I didn't understand, communicating with their mouths. It angered me I couldn't do it too, so I growled, trying to make my point clear. They were skittish...real skittish. One man cried something out as he charged me and his blood flew into my face, my sword impaled through his chest. Curious as to what this new substance was, I licked it from my cheek. It tasted...sweet, warm, so good...I needed more.

The other men groaned and roared, they began to advance, I was so happy they were offering themselves to me. They would raise their blades then fall to their knees as I killed each and everyone of them. Though at the time, I didn't know it was killing, I just thought it was how these beings worked. One by one, or even in groups, they died around me. I loved the taste of blood, but something suddenly felt horrible, I felt like life was being ripped from me, just as I was beginning to experience it. An arrow had pierced my chest. I looked at it curiously as I lifted the blood from it, realizing it was my own, my eyes widened. Was I going to be like the other men and be food for something else? No. I wasn't going to let my life end so quickly. I turned and my sword soon became a bow as I launched an arrow straight into the man's chest. Feeling a sense of revenge, I smiled, I liked this feeling. My new weapon immediately took shape of a sword once again. I was happy to see something familiar.

I suddenly felt a strange loss of something. I looked around and saw that I was missing something these men all had. They had a strange layer of skin that was tough, it was a shell. I soon found that this shell was removed easily and that I could wear it. I didn't want to lose anymore life water, so I dawned all of the man's shell. I felt heavy, but safe. As I started to drag myself over the field, I came across other men, dressed like the one I killed. They all tried to growl at me in some...almost friendly manner...I didn't know what was going on, so I adapted and just mimicked a gesture one of them had shown me, by raising his hand and swiping it through the air. I saw one man killing another in a different shell. I was bewildered at these creatures, so confusing that they would kill each other, just because of the different shells. But who was I to judge, I just killed them just as easily, for no reason at all.

I soon wandered far enough to come out of the field, I missed it, but something told me to keep moving. I came across a clear water, a blue water. I was curious as to how this one tasted, so I drank. It didn't have any flavor and I was disappointed, but it gave a certain satisfaction to my mouth as the cool water ran down my throat. I drank and drank until I felt my stomach churn. Had I done something wrong? I felt bigger, like my stomach was going to burst. So I lied down and tried to forget it all. With my blade hugging close to my chest, I slept like a newborn.