The Birth of the Mad Man

Cold and Cramped.

That was the first thing the person felt when they regained feeling in their body. Or was it? They knew they were cold and cramped, but for some reason they couldn't feel it. In fact, they couldn't feel anything. Their body was telling them that they were trapped, stuck, they couldn't move. Yet, they couldn't feel anything, they couldn't feel if the thing they were trapped in was truly cold or hot, if it was rough or smooth, if it was brittle or hard. All they could tell was that they were stuck.

They couldn't use their eyes either, for the surroundings were too dark to even see an inch in front of them. It was... suffocating. The person felt suffocated, not because they were trapped, but because they couldn't figure out what they were trapped by. They hated this feeling, and truly despised it. The feeling of not knowing what was around them, the inability to figure out what the problem was. "I truly hate it" the person murmured as they pushed their hand onto the nearby wall or object.

Suddenly a sudden surge rushed through their body. Their mind filled with information, information about this body, who they were, what they were, and what had happened. This body was once a part of a happy family that lived in a snow filled region surrounded by beasts that they had never seen before. Some resembled the ones they had seen in their old life, while others just looked so mystical. The boy was happy, his family was happy, his neighbors were happy, everyone was happy. It seemed like the happiness would last forever

That was until they came. People wearing long rough hair and wielding weapons riding on the backs of giant wolves that had six legs and had four eyes instead of two. They slaughtered the boy's friends and took the valuables they could from the houses before burning them down. They lined up the people of his world before launching arrows at their bodies. The boy hid inside the roof of his house and watched the outside. He saw the horrors these attackers brought to his world. He saw how they ran inside of the houses and pulled the people out of them before attacking them with their axes and swords, all while laughing. As the boy hid he heard a cry of fear. A cry he was familiar with.

The boy looked in the direction of the cry and saw a girl being dragged by two men out of her house. The boy's eyes widened as he watched the girl pushed onto the ground, his eyes weren't widening because of what they did to her. No, it was because of who they did it to, his first crush. The boy watched his crush crawl away from the attackers and beg them to spare her. He saw their laughter, their axes raised in the air, and he saw his crushes eyes look in a random direction. His direction. He saw his crush staring at him. Her bright brown eyes pleading with him. Asking him to save her, to save them all from these men. And he wanted to, he wanted to get out of the hiding space and save her and those who were being slaughtered like rats to an exterminator.

But he froze.

He didn't run out. He just hid and watched as the men grabbed his crush by her arm and swung their axes onto her body. One hack, two hacks, and three. She went limp after the third hack. They laughed and one of the men handed the other a couple of coins with annoyance on his face while the receiver just smiled. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, how these people regarded human life. He remembered how his mother and father told him how precious all life was and that he should never kill without reason. Yet, where were they? They were currently being torn apart and eaten by those wolves the attacker rode on.

He wanted to scream and cry. But he didn't, for he was afraid that he would be found if he made a peep. He held his breath when the men entered his house and pillaged it like the rest. He watched how the men drank the wine his father worked so hard making. He watched the men open his mothers drawer and take her clothes and put it in front of their body and made jokes to their comrades. Laughing and joking with one another as they ransacked the house his parents worked so hard to make. The boy truly wanted to get down from his hiding spot and attack these men, but he didn't for when he saw one of the men look up at him, his body froze.

The two of them held eye contact for less then a second, but for the boy it felt like minutes. Minutes that he spent staring at the eyes of a man who had attacked and killed everything and everyone he cared about. The man just smirked as he told the men around him to quickly get what they can and to leave the house. Listening to the man, the attackers grabbed whatever they could before leaving. The man stood behind and stared at the boy. He muttered something that the boy couldn't hear before leaving the house and closing the door behind him. Though the boy couldn't hear what he had said, he saw the words that moved from his lips.

"Good luck on surviving the flames."

The boy's face went as pale as the snow as he quickly got out of his hiding spot and tried to get out of the house. But when he reached the door and tried to push it, it wouldn't budge. No matter how hard he pushed, the door wouldn't budge. It was as if something was blocking it from outside.

The boy couldn't think much as soon a torrent of flames assaulted his house. The windows shattered as arrows covered in flames pierced the inside of his home and set it ablaze. The boy felt fear beyond his comprehension at that moment. He banged on the door as hard as he could, he cried out and pleaded. But he couldn't hear anything but the whispers and laughter of the flames that were slowly approaching him.

He tried his best. He clawed, smacked, punched, bite, anything and everything he could do to get out he tried. But it was all for nothing. The flames reached his body and he felt the pain it brought. He cried out in pain as he tried his best to put it out. But it wouldn't stop spreading.

He cried out as the place he once called home was turning into his grave. The ceiling was collapsing all around him, objects crashing onto the floor and smashing to bits. Pictures of his family and him smiling with one another. The food his mother made for them burned into charcoal. The toys his father made by hand for him to play with burned into dust.

His world was crumbling to dust and he soon would follow.

The boy collapsed onto his knees as he stared at the collapsing ceiling. His once smooth skin was reduced to nothing but a burnt skin the color of charcoal. His hair on his body was long gone and his eyes melted away. He would continue to cry out in pain from his serious injuries, but he could no longer feel the pain. He once pleaded for life not that long ago, but now, now he pleaded for it to end. For something to end his suffering and allow him to reunite with his family. 

As if something heard his call, the collapsing ceiling finally fell on him. Covering his body and crushing him. He felt his mind slowly drift away. He didn't mind the discomfort he felt in that moment as the last thing he felt, that he truly felt, in those moments was bliss.

The person opened his eyes once again as he clenched his chest. He breathed heavily and felt sweat dripping off his skin. He saw life from another person's eye, he saw life in the eyes of someone pure and thought that everything was going to be alright only for it to come crumbling down on him. He felt emotions and thoughts he had never realized before. But most of all he felt unbridle rage and true fear.

Unbridled rage for the men who attacked his village. For the men who killed everyone he killed about. For the men who laughed at his parents' death as they were made into food. For the men who made a bet with one another to see how long his crush would live for. For the men who raided his home and stole everything his parents worked hard for. 

But at the same time, he felt true fear. Not fear to the attackers as a whole, but to a single one. The one who saw him, the one he could have pointed out where he was to the others and have him quickly killed. But he didn't. Instead, the man just told his comrades to get everything they can and burn the house down. The man stood behind and told him good luck before leaving the house and closing the door behind him. Trapping him in a situation worse than the death that he gave to the others outside.

"No, no, no" the person said as he felt something rise throughout the body that overcame his fear. "I will not end like this" the person said as they began to claw at the debris around him. He clawed and pushed, moving things that were light and pushing things that were heavy. He moved his broken body to its limits as he dug his way out. He could not feel it, but he knew his burnt fingers were tearing themselves apart from him digging himself out of the burnt debris. But he didn't stop, "I will not stop until I have my revenge!"

.

.

.

"Boss" a man wearing a long cloak made from a large animal shouted as he walked towards a man who was sitting on the ground, drinking wine from a leather flask. The man wore a cloak made of black feathers from birds, had long rough dark hair, and wore a scar across his left eye that seemed to have been caused by a wild animal. He wore old black gloves that covered the halfway mark between the hand and the elbow. He wore clothes that were red on his shirt and brown on his pants, his boots were a black leather, obviously made from the pelt of a mighty beast that had black fur. His purple eyes and golden iris turned towards the approaching man, "what is it?"

"The boys have loaded everything onto the sleigh and are ready to head out, all we need is your command" the man said as he looked at the man with respect. For that is all he could give to the man before him. The man who stood before him was well known to all who lived in the Southern Lands. He was the man who created the recently made twelve families through his cruelty to those who opposed him. He used dirty tricks and petty tactics to win, but they were to ensure the survival of his people who were barely holding on to their recent creation.

The man who was said to have killed three Blizzard Maws by himself when he was injured and left behind when one of the eleve-, twelve, families tried to attack him after a summit meeting with the other families. It was said that he took down those three Blizzard Maws in a single minute and as proof of his might he wears a scar across his left eye that he received from one of them in its dying breath.

The man was Valen Skarvold, the Head of the Skarvold family.

"Hmmm" Valen hummed as he looked at the man a bit before looking back to what was in front of him. What was in front of him was the ruins of a burnt house that he and his man had raided. What made this house special from all the other houses that were burnt around him was what was inside of it. A young boy who was living a peaceful life before his elder made a sin against Valen and his men.

Valen and his men had been traveling for days after a summit with the other families and had run out of food days ago. When they discovered this village, they came to the people of this beautiful land as people not as warriors. But when they met the elder of the village, the elder belittled them and their family that was not made that long ago. The elder bragged about how the family they were affiliated with was far stronger than them and their band of "runts."

And so, after bidding farewell to the elder, Valen and his men left the village as guests and returned as enemies. They had raided and pillaged their homes. Killing everyone that got in their way or were just living in this village. They did not care for all that mattered to Valen was to prove to the elder what he was wrong, and that their band of "runts" were far stronger than the family that ruled over them. Of course when he got the reaction he wanted, he killed the elder right then and there.

But before that satisfying scene, Valen saw something interesting. He and his men had entered a random house. His men were laughing with one another, joking to one another about the wares and the trinkets they had found and how the people were so scared that they didn't try to fight. Of course, Valen only listened as he scanned the house with his purple pupil and golden iris. He was about to stop and relax and joke with his men. That was until he saw it, or well him. A small boy, probably as old as his daughter. He was hiding in a section of the upstairs that you would have to go around a wall to reach and could not be seen by anyone on the same floor and could be barely seen by anyone on the bottom floor. Of course if you looked hard enough, you would spot him.

Valen frowned as he stood up and walked towards the man and patted his shoulder, "tell the others to do one final sweep and to make sure that the attack looks like it was caused by the animals that roam the land and not by us."

The man nodded his head as he quickly rushed to the others and spread the orders. Valen looked back at the house and continued frowning, "and I had hoped that my eyes were not playing tricks on me. What a shame."

-Crunch

-Shuffle

Valen had already turned away and was about to walk away from the house, until he heard the shifting of wood from behind him. He turned his head and widened his eyes as he saw something poke out of the pile of burnt wood. He saw the burnt and charred hand of a small child reaching out, hoping to grab onto something. He saw the child slowly bring their body out, from one arm, to their head, then their other arm, then their chest, then knees, and finally their legs.

The child was beyond recognition as they just breathed heavily. Valen could see the nearby men also stopped moving and just stared at the child who crawled out of the burnt house. Their skin and everything below revealed to the world, as if all that mattered for the child's body was nothing but the burnt flesh that was charred as black as coal.

The child continued to breath heavily before abruptly turning their head towards Valen. Suddenly, Valen felt something rush past and through his body. This feeling forced Valen to draw out his blade with his right hand and raise his left hand up, the feathers from his cloak flying out and floating in circles around it. And it wasn't just him who got ready for battle, as the nearby men also dropped everything they had and drew out their blades.

It was when Valen felt snow fall onto his face that he was reminded where he was and what was in front of him. "Was that, bloodlust" Valen thought as his eyes widened as he stared at the child with astonishment, "I have lived and fought with many humans and beasts all across the Southern Lands, but I never felt a bloodlust quite like this. They are usually sharp and precise, always aiming at a part of a body they want to tear apart. But this child! Their bloodlust isn't aimed at my neck or arms like all the others usually are, no, it is aimed at my eyes, my fingers, my tongue, my nose, teeth, feet, hands, shoulders, almost everything and anything that makes me me is being targeted!"

Valen stared at the child with a smile on his face. He had finally found someone, no this thing wasn't a person or beast, they were a tool that was ready for him to forge and sharpen to its fullest might. Valen flicked his left wrist as the feathers quickly flew towards the child. They swam in a circle around the child and let out a small blue dust from their tip. Slowly the child's eyes were drooping before the child collapsed on top of the rubble.

"He did not look away or even get remotely interested in the feathers, but remained focused on me" Valen said as he walked to the child and lifted him on his shoulder as if he was a sack of potatoes, "he is a perfect weapon to use against the other families."

Valen just smiled as he walked, with the boy on his shoulder still, towards the sleigh and his mount. Soon, he and his men rode away from the village. Leaving it and their crime behind.