Lynnoria, The Demon of the Crimson Frost
I wasn't always like this: cold, ruthless, filled with hate. There was a time, surprisingly enough, where I valued this world as a whole more than I did anything else. Where I had aspirations of helping those around me, to make a world where my parents wouldn't suffer or be hated. Funny how the innocence of childhood gives one such convoluted ideals.
Sure, I had always known I was different; knew it at a young age. Walking along a stream in tow of my parents. Looking at their reflections; my father being a burly, dark haired human, with even the harsh years failing to chip away at his physique. My mother, I do remember how beautiful she was, long dark flowing hair, thin and long tail, short horns that curved off to the side. Her red tinged skin was fair and smooth. Both their contrasting features never once made me question my lineage. Maybe it should have. I had always been pale, piercing ice blue eyes, thick scaly tail, stubble for horns that protruded from my temples. I knew others questioned them if I was truly their offspring. Deep down I, myself, knew that the question was asinine.
But my parents, oh how they sacrificed so much for me. On a daily basis they would sacrifice whole meals, would take any insults with a smile. I see why they did though, to raise me not to hate the world, to cherish life in its fullest and to make light of any situation no matter how dire it may be. Even than I understood that. That is why I cherished them so much. They gave me the world, or any bit they could possibly muster and afford. And I was, and still am, eternally grateful for.
Look at it this way; my father was studying to be a wizard, and my mother was just a lowly maid. I do think there was more to it than her being 'just a maid,' but that is the story they told and stuck with each time I asked what they did before I was born. My father's goal was to be a well renowned wizard who used his magic to help the less fortunate, while my mom's goal was to live off the land in her own farm while raising a family. Sadly, life never works out the way that we may want it to. As they postponed those dreams to find the right place for all of us, where we could settle down and not have the distasteful eye of the world glaring at us for being what we are.
Times were tough, sure, there were plenty of times where I recall my parents not eating for days and seeing the sorrow in their eyes as they smiled at me, comforting me like everything was going to be OK. I knew it wasn't, being a child and seeing so much hate in the world. That is where I wanted to grow up, take up where my father left off, to become a wizard to change the world and make sure no families went homeless, food-less where everyone could grow up happy, no matter their race. Again, such convoluted dreams.
I had thought I had seen the cruelties of the world growing up. But this day will always stick with me. Not only was it when my powers woke, but it was the worst day of my life. Hell, I would not wish this upon my worst enemies. I was 12. It was the middle of the summer and we had gone without food for a couple of days. We came up to an old dilapidated barn. Thinking nothing of it, my parents decided we should camp out inside for the night and at first light, make our way into town and try and find work. I don't know, maybe the bales of hay should have given it away that it wasn't abandoned, but we were all so tired and hungry, we just fell into a deep slumber not long after laying our heads down.
"My mothers scream woke me up. But I had no time to react as at least seven or so humans descended on us. They pinned my father to the ground, lifted my mother up and had her restrained, covering her mouth to prevent her from screaming and had her in such a way to make it difficult for her to fight back. Then one picked me up, kicking and screaming as he just tucked me under his arm like a piece of luggage. They reminded me of a pack of mindless beasts as they laughed and insulted us. But I wish that was all they did.
One of the men, who I assume was the head guy, just laughed as he said that the lord of the town made a doctrine that anyone squatting would be under terms of being arrested. They were all enjoying this though, and a few of the men mentioned about my mother, kept calling her a Tiefling whore. Lust had filled their gazes. Such mindless creatures they were.
Never being exposed to what the concept of adult situations, I didn't know the exact ramifications I was witnessing. The smelly human that was handling me, kept my head up, whispering that I would get my turn because I was a Tiefling whore spawn. Telling that to a little girl, that man must have been the most foul of them all. And all I see is them cutting away at my mothers clothes, leaving her naked as one of the men stood over her. He dropped his pants, exposing himself before he knelt down, thrusting himself into her.
My mother only struggled once, and it was against the first man. He twisted her arm so hard and so fast, the room was filled with a loud pop and her clenched hand going limp. My father was furious, he tried to push himself up, but three of the humans pressed him down into the hard wood floor. All he could do is shout angrily and yell profanities at them. That is when I heard a voice, I don't know whose it was, but it was as if it was directly into my ears. Was a soft voice, but wasn't my mothers. I couldn't make out what it said either, but the chaos around me drowned it out rather quickly.
Eventually my father calmed down enough, but you could hear his sobs as each of the men took a turn with my mother. She tried to look strong every time I looked at her, but she couldn't hide the tear stained cheeks. Since the room quieted down a little, that voice came back. It was a soft whisper in my ears. It was only barely audible, but it was telling me to not resist, let everything go, to use my anger. I closed my eyes to listen to the voice.
Before long, a loud spine tingling scream came from both one of the men and my mother. As I opened my eyes, I saw blood, blood everywhere. My mother had bitten one of the men, a chunk of flesh stuck between her fanged teeth, and a dagger sticking out of her back. The man she bit was writhing on the floor, hands over his crotch, screaming in agony. It is true when they say for men not to stick their dick into places where it doesn't belong. But the horror didn't end there.
I clenched my eyes as they began to brutally stab my mother out of spite. I heard my father begin to fight the hoard, but he suddenly went silent as there was a loud bang followed by liquid splat. I opened an eye to see what happened. I was hit with shock, horror, and nausea all at once. Seeing my father face down and part of his head missing and red liquid surrounding him. I was terrified to look over at my mother, but something told me to do so, and when I did, our eyes met. The last thing she ever did was mouth my name and I love you and attempt to smile. I saw the life leave her eyes. Those eyes that even though had been so sorrowful, had such warmth in them. Now it was all gone. My parents. My world. EVERYTHING. And it was the humans fault. Every last one of them should suffer, is the thoughts that rang through my mind at that moment.
Those vile humans. Took everything away from me. That was the first time in my life I had felt hate. My emotions surpassed sorrow, terror and horror, to go straight to hatred. Than there was that voice again, this time it was a hiss. telling me to awaken, to destroy. Use my hatred. I barely noticed the group of filth around me, discussing what to do with me, discussing how to dispose of us. That voice hissed again. This time when it hissed, I felt a cold chill around my hands, first it was biting, than it went numb. But I could still feel its chill.
Just like that, as if everything I had ever felt in my life, erupted out of me at once. And when I say it erupted, how about thousands of ice shards blasted off of me, killing most of the human filth. Some laid flat with shards of ice sticking out of what ever side of their body that was facing me at that moment. Even some others were impaled to the barn walls. But the ground was stained red with their blood. Only two survived, but were severely maimed. I had the luxury of watching their lives leave them as the air around them froze their lungs solid. The temperature had dropped well past the freezing point, to the point that even the air itself was solidifying.. Though I was unaffected by it. Actually, It was as if my powers fed off it.
What happened next is more of a blur to me. I remember weeping over my parents bodies, and as I did I heard the hissing again. This time though, it was not in my head but actually coming from my own voice. So I walked from the barn. A spark of fire shot from a finger, landing in the hay around my parents bodies. But I remember the sound of the grass crunching under foot with each step I took. The air was thin and bone chilling. What was once green, withered and was covered in frost. The air around me swirled, creating an area of just pure frozen death. Cows sitting at pasture froze to death on the spot as I walked past them.
A lot of this is from one of the few survivors of what happened. They first noticed the barn on fire, followed shortly after by a sudden and severe drop in temperature which brought it a omniscient mist. Screams and shouts echoed through the village as one by one, the villagers either froze to death in an instant, or they were struck by flying shards of ice the size of daggers. All in the presence of a little girl with blood red hair. Some of the villagers even tried to strike at the blood redheaded girl with horns, but instead of being frozen to death, they suddenly erupted in flames. As the survivors said, it was pure chaos and carnage. From what I found out, only three villagers survived. And all three were non humans. But they happened to have coined the fancy nickname of 'The Demon of Crimson Frost.' I find it some what catchy honestly.
I came too some time later. I do not know how long I was out for, but it must have been a while because most of the bodies had began showing signs of decay in the summer heat. The village was mostly destroyed, albeit a few structures survived, but were severely damaged. It was as if a fire storm had raged through and burned everything down. But I do not know if that was my doing or not.
So in the aftermath, I fled. Headed in a random direction. Did not follow any road, just went through the forest surrounding the village. I must have trekked for months though. Almost starved on several occasion, all while testing my new powers. Found out quickly that all it took to form the daggers of ice was just a drop of water. That one was the first and easiest one to control. Some of the other powers I tried to control were far harder. The beam of frost I couldn't control and would blast in random directions or in different strengths. And creating the frost on objects was even harder as it would fail rather quickly. I used what I could to survive. I did come across humans every so often.. Every time that voice would hiss in my ear as rage built up inside. They felt my wrath. Was it warranted? Probably not, but I felt no remorse as I froze the life from their bodies or impaled them with daggers of ice.
With the first town I came across, I made a pact with myself; stay low, stay out of sight, only kill when necessary, and raid the towns library. The urge to research, to gain more power, ate at me more than my hatred for humans. So that is what I did; I stayed in the shadows. Avoided most contact with those around me while keeping my horns and blood red hair hidden from view. I entered the closest library and would spend days reading every and all books that pertained to magic or arcana in general. But that night I did find it necessary to kill though. I needed a place to sleep, and why should a wealthy human need such luxury while so many suffered? So I followed a merchant to his house. Slit his throat with a dagger I had picked up from an adventurer and made use of his possessions and food for the days I stayed in that town.
I had gained enough knowledge that I had finally been able to create my first arcane focus. Finally was I able to successfully manifest the beam of ice, and create frost on a whim. By this time I was sixteen years old. I had stopped killing for housing, as I had several close calls. But I had learned that deceit, intimidation and my high charisma were all I needed. I would deceive people into helping me with lodging, or I would flat out charm them with my looks. Some tried to take advantage of me. But they no longer are alive to try that on anyone else. If all else failed, I would intimidate into getting what I wanted.
I think around that age, probably around the anniversary of my parents death, did I stumble onto something intriguing. I was on my way to a new city when I came across an old stone building. Even though it was old, it still looked like it was being lived in and maintained in some fashion. Before I could even continue to walk past it, an ancient elf, full beard, what you would expect from an old wizard, just materialized in front of me.
"Power you seek, my child, yes?" was the first thing he said to me. The way he spoke confused the hell out of me. "Power you shall receive. Join us, you must, to gain that power." he stretched out a decrepit, bony hand. My thought was to run away before this weird old man said anything else, but that temptation of gaining more power teased me. So I hesitantly took his hand and gave it a quick shake. He let out such a loud cackle, and began to dance around I knew right than and there I had made a mistake.
Lucky enough, it was not. The building turned out to be an academy. But they did not just train magic users, but weapons masters, clerics, divinity classes in general. What caught me the most odd, was that not a single one was human; the older students were all non human, some were mixed breeds, some were straight out fey monsters. So I attended this academy for the next five years. In those five years I learned a great deal. Not just about magic and the arcana, but about myself. Shoot, I even found out what it was like to love. They all essentially became my family.
I graduated from there about a year ago. I still wander from town to town, reading through their libraries, trying to find even more power. Yes, my professors taught me a lot, but they said everything else I will learn will be from my own experience, they were there to be the stepping stone to greatness. Cheesy, but I do respect them, and cherish every moment I had with them. Some day I will even be reunited with the love of my life, but until than, power is all that I crave. And this time, I try to be a respectable being; I have also learned to control my hatred and loathing towards humans to now only just heavily disliking them.