As a child many people adored me. The people who took me in were so kind. They assumed I was only a little over a year old when they found me. Although I was a Tigarian like most of the others in my village, I had one unique trait that no one else had. My fur was white as compared to others having a tan or brown tint. That trait made some people jealous of me but after a while I was accepted as who I was. As for my past, I don’t know much about it. The only possession I had with me when I was found was a single silver bracelet. It has my name “Saiberious” engraved on it.
As the years went by I grew up as an energetic but formal Tigarian. That alone could have singled me out as a different person if I didn’t have my unique fur. I hated violence and danger. My claws didn’t exist, my teeth had never killed, and I had an innocence that was purer than my fur’s color. Unfortunately that would all change. My frail heart that saw the world in as much goodness as possible would soon wither in the upcoming year and become warped by reality’s ugly truth. The innocence that I had loved would leave me. To fill that void would come sorrow and despair. And from that, would come a great strength. A strength that I would regret ever having.
My village was apart of a kingdom, a dying kingdom. Financial hardships in the capital of our country had crippled us for the last few months. I could tell that one of our neighboring kingdoms, a kingdom ruled by Orcs, a kingdom that had always despised Tigarians, was waiting for us to weaken a little more. Then they would strike.
That weakness came to our country when our king and all of his family were assassinated. Since there was no one to make decisions for our country most of us didn't know what to do. Then the worst happened. We were assaulted not just by the Orchish kingdom but also by most of our other neighbors. The nation’s army was no match for an assault from all sides. It was as if we were a piece of meat between savage dogs. No one would be spared. At that time, I was only eight.
The attacks were swift and fierce. Even the most fortified cities fell. One by one, there wasn’t a single word of diplomacy. They simply attacked, looted, burned the city, and moved to the next. Fortunately our small village was the last to fall. Being not too far from our once proud capital and having our village so small we were easily overlooked. So we prepared for the worst. No one could say they weren't scared.
Only six days after the first city fell we were under siege. The Orchish imperial army had sent an infantry force of new recruits. I assume they didn’t expect around four hundred Tigarian villagers to pose much of a threat. We were surprised that the enemy didn’t bring any siege weapons. If they would have, we wouldn’t have stood a chance.
We must have killed at least seven hundred troops before we had lost one of ours. We could give that astonishing feat to the Elven archer that had moved to our city just days before the war. He alone molded poverty-stricken peasants into archers worthy of serving in an army.
I was terrified when the enemy forces had breeched the city gate. Our archers did all they could but it was inevitable. We had infantry troops of our own but they were no mach for the Orc army. I watched in horror as my friends were hacked down. Their lifeless corpses still jerking then stopping completely never to move again. Blood was everywhere. A color no one could ever forget.
Even our most skilled warrior, a Tigarian blade master, was taken out as if he was a just another person whom happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I knew him well. He would often share his stories of when he was young. He must have been around forty-five when his life was ended. I loved him as a father. I would imagine him being killed by some great evil, or by a person of his caliber. No, fate couldn’t even give him that. He died from an accidental swing from an enemy sword. Directly across his throat.
All this time I was in the monastery along with the women and children. We all watched with unblinking eyes as our friends ceased to exist. After the last of our troops had been killed we watched as they started to raid housed. They didn’t take any prisoners. They slaughtered the elderly, raped the women, and toyed around with the children before killing even them. First the arms, then the legs, then a horizontal cut right on the stomach. They left the children bleeding gallons of scarlet blood with their body parts scattered around them. A long painful death no one in this world deserved. MORE BLOOD, MORE LIFELESS BODIES, AND PEOPLE THAT MEANT SO MUCH TO ME SLAUGHTERED! I stood there helpless as they worked their way to the monastery.
Unlike me the group of people I was with didn’t want to die. They had the will to live. I just stood there watching in complete disbelief. My eyes dry and motionless watching as death draped his cloak over the ones I once loved. I remember saying softly to myself,” Take me, leave them alone, they don’t deserve this, I should die not them.” Then I became hysterical and started to yell at the imaginary figure, “Take me! I should be the one under your cloak not them! Leave them alone! They don't deserve this, I do! Take me instead!” At that moment time seemed to stand still. The figure I was yelling at disappeared and a new one arose. This gigantic figure was real. It was an Orchish warlord, the general of the invading force. He looked at me with a sinister grin. A grin that thirsted for blood...my blood. His jagged sword, blood drenched armor, and the void of life in his eyes was so horrendous that I blacked out from fear. At that time I thought I was actually dead. At that time, I was only eight.
When I awoke from my unpredicted slumber I knew that I wasn’t dead. The smell of death and decay made that quite obvious. When all of my senses came to I realized the worst had happened. When I had blacked out my parents stopped the warlord from killing me. The only way they could have done that would have been to sacrifice them selves. It’s ironic. I wanted death to take me and leave everyone else be, but the exact opposite happened. I was under my parents' lifeless bodies. I tried to cry but to no avail. All of my tears were used the night I gazed at death.
I came to realize only a few seconds later that I wasn’t alone. I looked outside of the window were the warlord's lifeless eyes had stared at me. There was what many people would consider worse than an army. Thieves. They were here for only one reason. To take anything the Orcs left behind.  The thieves weren’t made up of one race. They consisted of any and everyone who didn’t have a place in society. They took anything and everything. Chairs, tables, furnishings, silverware, clothes, anything that had some value were considered theirs. Fortunately this band of thieves had a code. First take from the people on the battlefield, then the houses then the government buildings, and finally the religious buildings.
All of the bodies on the ground outside were stripped naked. Everyone I knew and the enemies who had killed them were there. Even if the thieves were not here I don’t think that I could have buried them. Just to see them with missing limbs, and blood stained fur would have repelled me from going near them, but to have them cloth less would have made me feel lower than a thieve to even touch their body.
Not knowing what to do, I waited for the thieves to start on the government buildings. That would be my only chance to escape. While they were inside I could sneak out of the city and hope that no one would see me. What would I do then? Only time could tell. So off I ran looking away from the mortified bodies.
I must have run for an hour before collapsing under the blistering sun. I fell on the warm sand panting to catch my breath and to cool myself off. I was angry at my fur that I once loved. It made my race of people unable to sweat like most other races could. I couldn’t move at all. I was too exhausted. The sun blazing down on me didn’t help at all. With all of my sorrow, pain, and confusion I just closed my eyes and hoped that I would die, not of dehydration or overheating, just die...peacefully.
Just like the blade master of my village, fate had decided to forsaken me. As my consciousness dwindled to sleep, I was awoken by someone standing overhead of me. I looked at the person without any emotion on my face. I didn't have any energy to spare on emotions. He looked at me the same way. Then a sinister grin came upon his face just like the warlord's. The man picked me up. He was a human and by the looks of it he was also a thief. He said to me in a slow mellow voice, "Right now you don't have any purpose in this world little one. Soon the desert sun will dry you up and leave you in the unforgiving heat to become some creature's supper. You don't want to die that slow and painful death do you? I'll be kind and help you out." I thought he was going to bring me back to his guild of thieves and have me learn to be a thief, but my mind was naive. He drew his knife and held it in the high in the air. The thought of comfort had fled from my mind and in its place stood the fear of dying just like my friends had back in my village. The thief trusted it down piercing my chest. I let out a horrible howl of pain. I could scream for only for a few seconds then my right lung filled with blood and muted my last breaths. The pain was unbearable and I had no way of letting it go. I blacked out knowing that I was going to die. At that time, I was only eight.
I was awakened to the sound of a fire. When I opened my eyes I saw a male Draconian, around the age of the blade master in my village. Looking at me. The sun had gone down and it was cold. The Draconian told me everything that happened. How he had saved my life and if he hadn't thrown his dagger, called a kunai, the thief would have struck my heart.
After a while the Draconian brought up a subject about his swordsmanship. He said that he learned it in the eastern lands and was trying to teach it to someone before he died. He told me the basic principles of it and what its purpose was. I made myself seem interested in it. I needed to become strong. I didn't want to be helpless ever again. So I accepted. At that time, I was only eight.
Surviving in the harsh desert is hard for many but it was second nature to me. The experience and knowledge I had gained in the past decade was invaluable to me. After my Draconian master had told me that he had taught me everything he knew, he decided that it was best if we were to split up. Although I knew that he was right I still didn't like the idea of losing the only person that I cared about. The first few days were hard, very hard. I was constantly depressed. My heart, that had grown warm over the years, had suddenly become a dark and frigid place. A place were the thoughts of the past would manipulate me into everything I wasn't. At that time I was only eighteen.
I headed southwest toward the Orchish kingdom. The same kingdom that invaded my beloved village. My mind was filled with dark horrid thoughts. I sent myself on a path of revenge. The capital was my destination. Two people had to die before my thirst would stop. Those people were the warlord that commanded the battle, and the king who made the final decision to invade my nation in its hour of need. They both would pay with their lives.
It took me almost two months to get to the Orchish capital. Many towns on the way were glad to have me as a guest. One would think that an Orc would hate to have an outsider in his or her town, but I guess that is only a stereotype presumed by people whom have never met an ordinary Orc.
When I finally reached the capital everything that I knew about Orcs changed. Since the Orc nation was mostly covered in a thick marsh I expected to find a city built in the treetops. I thought there was going to be wooden huts and vines holding everything together. I was wrong. Their city was a well-built fortress of solid wood, and stone. Although it wasn't organized like a human city, or as clean as an Elven city, it had it's own beauty. When I reached the gates the guards told me that if I didn't have a pass from an Orc official then I couldn't enter. So I left. I waited on the side of the road a half a mile away from the capital for someone to walk by. I would have to kill someone to gain access to my prey. At that time, I was only eighteen.
After waiting for a little under two days I became frustrated. My master had taut me patience but my hatred and thirst were pushing me. It pushed me too far. I became enraged and headed for the capital. When the guards confronted me I killed them with a single slash. Now there was no turning back. Fortunately enough I killed everyone who had witnessed my killing spree. The only thing that knew of my crime was my sword, my god, and myself. It's hard to believe that someone with such dark thoughts would still believe in a god. That was the only thing that kept my good side alive. So I had to believe.
I decided to rest at an Inn after I had cleaned off my sword and cape. All the while I was nervous that someone would know that I had killed the guards but it was only I. When I awoke the next morning I barley had enough gold to pay the Innkeeper. I was glad that I had taken the guards' money back at the gate. To think that I would have tried to stay at an Inn without any way to pay for service. That might have blown my cover.
After leaving the Inn I asked around for the city's library. I knew if I had asked for the king's residence I would have been too suspicious. It took me at least four hours to find an Orc that could speak a decent amount of human language. After finding were the library was I headed over there. While in the library I found everything I needed. I was in a good mood to kill. I found out that the king that had declared war on my country was the same king to have my king assassinated. I also found out that the same king was still in power. Another article of news that I found was the general/warlord that had commanded the battle at my city was currently the king's war advisor. I was overjoyed to know that both of the people I wanted to kill would be in the same place.
I left the library quickly but quietly making sure not to look suspicious. When I came outside I was greeted by fifteen Orc guards standing in front of me. I didn't know what they were they were here for. Did they find out about my plans? If so, how did they? I hadn't said anything to anyone. I stood there looking at the guards. All of them looked at me, directly at me. The leader of the group stated in a deep grumbling voice, "So you are person who wants to kill Orc king? You look weaker than we thought." I replied quickly, "Who has told you of me and what relationship do you have with that person!" The leader replied, "I was only given orders to kill Tigarian with white hairs and…" I dashed past him killing him and two of his men. "They are of no use to me so they must all die", I thought to myself. By the time I turned around all of them had their swords drawn. Then I knew I wasn't dealing with armature guards. All of them charged at me. One after another I parried their attacks and threw my own. First I killed two guards, then four, and then another three. By that time I had wounds of my own. Most of them weren't serious but a few had me bleeding somewhat awful. The other two guards fled to the castle. I followed right behind them. At that time, I was only eighteen.
When I arrived at the castle the two guards had already entered. Just before I entered I was assaulted from behind me. It was only the training that my master had taut me that saved my life. I turned around and countered the guard's attack only to realize I had twenty or more guards with one thing on their mind. Me. Fortunately the guards were all of low stature. They were fairly easy to kill. After caching my breath I entered the castle.
I knew exactly were the war room was. I knew my two enemies were going to be there too. With my blood slowly leaving me I quickened my pace. Any guards that were in the castle halls were struck down with ease. It seemed like eternity before I reached the war room doors. I stopped for a moment. I cleared my mind. I made my goal top priority. "The warlord and king must die! They must pay for the atrocities they have committed! I can't show them any sympathy or mercy what so ever!" I exclaimed out loud. With that in thought I bashed down the doors. There in front of me only ten yards away was my life's goal.
The king and warlord were together standing, waiting, wanting me to strike. To my dismay they were standing behind ten guards. They were recognizable by their armor alone. The infamous Orc Elite. I wasn't expecting to have to fight them. I was also hoping that I could have avoided them. I couldn't turn back though. My heart filled with rage, as it pumped harder. I gripped my sword with two hands. I took one long breath and prepared for them. They charged at me with amazing speed. Five went to the left and five went to the right. They all wielded an axe, but they weren't any ordinary axes. No, they were sharper than a butcher's axe. And small enough to be swung with precision. With one wrong move I could be slain where I had stood.
The battle started with me jumping forward between the two groups. Quickly they followed. I wanted them to. I turned around and dashed through them killing three of them. At that moment I knew I had a chance to win, I had to win. When we caught ourselves on the ground we all noticed something. Although I had killed three of their men, they had slashed me, severely. Once again we dashed toward each other, but this time I decided to think. With almost lightning reflexes. I threw four kunai at the soldiers. Although one of them missed I still killed three of them and managed to not get hurt in the process. Four remained. We stood our ground for a few seconds. When two of the soldiers tried to flee the other two killed them immediately. Now it was only two on one. Things were looking up for me.
The last two guards yelled out a battle cry and rushed at me. I dodged one of the guards axe while I killed the other guard. They planned for that though. With astonishing speed the other Orc slashed at my back brutally. I roared with pain as blood gushed out. Three deep wounds were there when he lost his balance in a pool of blood. I turned around enraged. One strong swoop of my sword was all it took for me to cut his head off.
Immediately I turned around to notice the warlord had caught me off guard. He swung his titanic sword straight down. I was only able to move so far. Where he had been aiming to slice me straight down the middle he made due with my left arm. The unbearable pain that followed was of none I had never felt before. I lost my voice roaring from that dreadful act of a person bent on a relentless onslaught. My mind blanked every thought except the urged to kill. With a single thrust I stuck my sword through his neck. Blood gushed everywhere. My precious white fur was stained with his scarlet blood. Not a single hair stood in its former glory.
The king walked upon me. With a look of victory he said, "How does it feel to…" his head flew of to a distant corner of the room. With a single slash he had died. He didn't deserve such a quick death, but I just wanted to die. Now I was covered in both of their blood. I didn't care how I just wanted to have everything go away. And yet fate decides to kill whatever light I had in my heart with one final act.
A voice from the door way caught my attention while I was dragging the two bodies to the alter in the corner of the room. "What are you doing Saiberious." Only one person knew my name. "Why would you care master?" I replied. "I cannot allow you to clear yourself from the sins you have committed." He stated. What if I was only going there to have them cleansed of their sins?" I asked sarcastically. "Don't fool with me. When I decided to train you I wanted this type of incident not to happen. Now that you have created chaos and disruption I will be the one to stop you." He exclaimed. "So be it…" I said calmly.
I dropped the two bodies and with the last of my energy I raised my sword. He did the same. We dashed toward each other hoping that only one strike would be needed to end our pain and suffering.
At that time I was only nineteen, I had lost the only one whom had cared for me. At least we didn't die alone. Happy Birthday Saiberious, Happy Birthday...