Sir Alvin Ironblood
The Ironblood family is a group of people blessed with the lineage of the Greek god Hephaestus. Each offspring of the Ironblood family has one thing in common: regardless of the purity of their blood, they are all cursed with a deformed body part, whether it be their arm, legs, or, god forbid, their face. It is a shame that all members of the Ironblood family have to carry. Many members of this family choose to hide their deformities out of fear of being shunned or ridiculed. Among those who try to hide, there are also some who choose to embrace them. Most who embrace their deformities have only small disfigurements on their hands or feet. But for Alvin Ironblood, he was born with a facial deformity. His eyes were crooked, with one side hanging lower than the other. His nose curved to the side, and his lips were tilted. Though he was born with this defect, he was never ashamed of it. He was always proud, even when he was bullied. He refused to let others call him names, even when he was young. Always told by his mother, "Alvin, you are my little handsome prince!"
Alvin believed his mother; he loved her. She was the only one inside the Ironblood Estate who would shower him with love. His father, a distant cousin of the patriarch of the family, shunned him. Alvin was never close with his father; only his mother seemed to care for him. He was fine with that; he loved her dearly too. He was fine if she was the only person who loved him on this Earth. He believed that he would always be his mother's "Handsome Little Prince." That was until his mother fell sick with a disease that would eventually kill her in her sleep.
Alvin's father was never around much; he wasn't around when Alvin's mother was alive and even less when she passed. The maids did their best to comfort little Alvin, complimenting him as his mother once did, doing their best to shower him with affection. It seemed to have worked, but Alvin still felt this loneliness inside of him—an urge that only his loving mother could subdue. As Alvin grew, so did his powers; he grew stronger and became more skilled in combat. His father still only visited a handful of times, until one day his father visited him with another boy—a brother about his age. His father showered the boy with affection during their stay, complimenting the boy's appearance, his talent, and his literary skills. Alvin could only stand on the side as he watched his father shower his other son with love and receive nothing from his father, not even a look.
This drove me mad, I would question myself what I was doing wrong. I didn't understand. Others always received unconditional love from their parents at the very least. I questioned myself, 'Why? Why? WHY? WHY?!?' Why did I not receive the affection that my father gave to his other son. Why was my mother the only one that loved me truely in this world? Why do I have to suffer a fate of having anybody to care for me? Maybe if I get rid of the other son, father will truly love me. He will not have anybody else to love, but me… right…?
That night, a scream was heard inside the Ironblood Estate—a scream that awakened Alvin's father. He rushed towards the sound; it came from Alvin's brother's room. When he got there, the door was wide open. The bright moonlight shone down through the windows. Alvin held his brother by his neck, three conjured swords stuck into the abdomen of the boy. Alvin turned to his father, his face soaked with blood.
Alvin's father smiled—a wide smile, almost too wide. "Good job, son."
Tylan shot awake, his body flung upwards. A loud commotion was happening outside. He removed his blanket, opened the window, and looked outdoors. Fire, rubble, and weapons—these were the first three things that caught his eye. In the distance, Tylan could see another two things: Alvin and a man with a bag running away from him. The two men leaped from building to building, Alvin chasing the other man frantically. Fire was being shot out, weapons were being conjured, and pure carnage erupted. Men, women, children—nobody was safe from Alvin's attacks. Rubble fell, smoke arose, and screams erupted. Tylan, seeing this scene, dressed himself and picked up his items before running out from the inn. He began running towards the carnage, only for one thing to catch his eye: a child was about to be crushed by the rubble. In that split moment, he drew his sword—a single slash, a slash that split the rubble into two,
"Are you okay?" Tylan said frantically as he ran to the child's aid. "Are you injured?" he asked as he helped the kid stand back up. The kid shook his head, beginning to cry.
"Wa…wa…Mommy!" screamed the child. But the child wasn't the only one in a frenzy; many others were also screaming and crying. It was chaos. Tylan stared at the source of this: Alvin Ironblood, the man who was wreaking havoc from chasing one man.
"STOP, YOU CRIMINAL! HAND BACK THAT BAG," Alvin conjured a javelin in his hands. "I SAID STOP!" he roared as he thrust the javelin towards the man. The man nearly dodged, the javelin hitting a building and causing it to collapse. The criminal continued running, trying his best to escape the frenzied Alvin. As Alvin raised his arm up to cast another attack, Tylan threw a rock at him, catching his attention.
"HEY! You noble! Stop! Don't you see the carnage you've caused," Tylan points to all the destruction surrounding them, "you're suppose to help your town as their leader! Not destroy everything over on criminal!"
Alvin turned his head to see the chaos he had caused, taking in the destruction. But as he scanned the area, a sudden realization struck him: 'Where the hell did that criminal run off to?' Angered even more by this realization, Alvin roared in frustration.
"LOOK HERE, YOU MUTT! YOU WILL NOT TELL ME HOW TO CONDUCT MYSELF OR MY TOWN! BECAUSE OF YOU, THE CRIMINAL HAS ESCAPED," Alvin roared in displeasure. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU MUTT, BEFORE YOU GET PUNISHED TOO!"
Tylan was a calm man; he was gentle-natured. But there was one thing he could not tolerate: being looked down upon. His eyes flared up. "Who the hell are you calling a mutt, you DISGUSTING noble! You are destroying your own goddamn town for just one criminal? I know your face is deformed, but is your brain deformed too?!?"
Alvin turned his back to Tylan; this time, there was no evident anger on his face. But his eyes were bloodshot, and the muscles in his cheeks seemed like they were about to burst. He stared down Tylan. "What the fuck did you just say to me, you goddamn MUTT?"
Before Tylan could repeat himself, Alvin was already zooming toward him. Tylan tried to speak but there was no chance of negotations happening.
"FLARE: PILLAR."
A large pillar of flame shot out of the ground, nearly incinerating Tylan. He rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the large geyser of flame. Tylan looked up to stare Alvin eye to eye. Alvin's deformed face was now contorted in anger. Standing in front of him wasn't just a mere fodder opponent he could easily defeat. No, it was different now. In front of him was a wielder of the Hephaestus lineage, a man with high capabilities. This would be his first real challenge after his ten years of training: Sir Alvin Ironblood.