Malvock-Fire-hand

After the departure, I have wandered endlessly, until I came across slaves being forced to fight for the wayward cause of a madman. I killed him, and by their custom, I became their war-chief. From this position, I lead them away from the empire of man who enslaved and cultivated their power. I lead these half-Orcs to the farthest reaches of the land, then led them into a new age of their people. When we were first found, one of them used one of my own as hostage. He bore witness to the birth of the moniker "Fire-hand", when my right arm ignited with dark fire. In fear, he ran; but the guards cut him down.

After centuries of watching over their growth and progress to independence from mankind, they came again, claiming that my kin had taken a sacred relic from them. I knew otherwise, and lead them into combat against them. For the next the half century, we fought them back time and time again, until they came in numbers greater than our own.  On that day, I truly became a demon. I butchered their forces one by one. As my kin fell, I began killing them faster and faster, horns and claws growing, and become more and more pronounced. In the final moments, I ran my sword through their leader's throat, howling in rage as he choked on his own blood. As grief set in, I calmed enough for them to take me prisoner.

Within a decade, I was given the chance to run for freedom, but stayed to save a young girl from being befouled by a raider; it wasn't until later I discovered that she was the Duke of the region's daughter. She convinced her father to set me free , and I was tasked with being the aid of the magus. Toward the end of the same decade, she had become a close confidant. Then the siege came. The royal family had died in minutes, and the city was doomed to fall. Against his own better wishes, the arch-deacon aided me in reading a verse of Latin to smite all the oncoming swarm of dead; one that also destroyed the land. This was my last memory, until the return.