A cold wind blew across the icy fields of Kelay and carried up into the forest that surrounded the base of a small mountain. A small village could be seen at the base of Mount Culfarh, nestled in between the flailing trees of Sage forest, almost as if the village itself was trying to keep warm and protected from the fierce storm that raged the land. Ice blew across the open plains, tearing at any living thing like sandpaper. The wind howled as the fury of the sky�s clashed down to the earth in great peals of thunder and ice. A man stood on a hill some miles away from the town and surveyed it with a small smile on his scarred face. The icy wind tore at his thick cloak throwing it back from his body and revealing a large and slightly curved blade on his hip. A chuckle rises deep in his throat, so cold it makes the air around him seem warm. He grins and sighs at the beauty of his new lands, lands fit for a man of greatness and power such as himself, yet first he must do something with the mongrels that currently occupy this beautiful terrain. �What were these filthy peasants doing on my land?! No matter, it is a problem easily rectified.� He chuckles again as he strides forward through the snow and ice as if it did not exist, towards the village to claim what is now his.
It was winter in the land of Kelay, and a rough one at that. A small cottage lay nestled in the trees just east of the village, with a small corral for animals and a small space for next years harvest, both covered in snow with icicles standing horizontal as a testament to the winds power. A small light gleamed and flickered inside the cottage as a fire provided little comfort from the elements, but it was comfort nonetheless. A woman�s screams echoed from the inside, as she was in labor and the pains were great. �Hold on Mother,� said a small boy no more than nine years of age. He grasped his mothers hand and tried to soothe her as she gave birth to his new sibling. The midwife was at the feet of the bed doing what she could for the poor woman, but as these things go, nature will have out. �Almost there Tanya, just one more push.� Screams ripped themselves from the throat of Tanya, and never before had she felt such pain. Something was wrong, when she gave birth to Asmodean, her first son, never had she felt this kind of pain, she felt as if hot knives were tearing at her thighs and demons were clawing at her insides. She pushed with all her might and ushered into this harsh and unforgiving world a new life. �It�s a boy!� exclaimed midwife Gwneilyn, �and he�s as healthy as he can be. You should be proud.� Tanya smiled softly as the pain in her thighs and belly subsided to a dull throb, one that made life much more pleasant to deal with than the stabbing pains of childbirth. She glanced over at Asmodean, and said, �Congratulations, you have a brother.� She thought for a minute and said, �Ruirk, we shall call him Ruirk.� Asmodean smiled down at his new baby brother and turned to the midwife who was currently cleaning herself, and said in a very loveable, yet childish manner, �His name is Ruirk!� Gwenilyn smiled and said, �Well I�ll be so it is. A fine name too, isn�t it lad?�
Asmodean opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by a peal of thunder, and a flash of lightning that illuminated the house in a brilliant white glow that left afterimages in his eyes. He paused to a minute and the next thing he heard were the screams of the midwife coming from the next room. Her screams were cut off suddenly and before Asmodean could move from his spot, a man stepped into view. He was not much taller than the average man, about 6�4 and roughly average build. His ice covered cloak and frosted hair attested to his enduring of the elements, while the armor beneath the cloak, seemed new and fitted him as if it was made for him. This man was obviously a warrior, born and bred for battle, but that�s not what caught the eyes of the now terrified nine year old boy. It was the bloody knife that was held in the grip of the dark figure standing before him. He glanced past the menacing figure for a moment and noticed the midwife on the floor in the next room, gaping cavern where the flesh of her neck used to be. The boy screamed in horror and rushed the man, trying to get to the fallen midwife. He found himself sailing through the air, swept aside by a simple gesture, as if the man was swatting at a bitme. He heard wood crack beneath him as he contacted with the pine logs that comprised the exterior walls of the domicile. Blackness clouded his vision and bells louder than even the large church bell in his town were sounding. He laid on the floor trying to remain conscious and the last vision that registered in his sad little mind was the stranger, running his mother through while she lay helpless on the bed, then his world faded to darkness.