They were the Altekari. In the tongue of their time, this word meant Altered. Once human, young children, but sacrificed to become killers in the war that ravaged their homes. Magic coursed through their blood and infused their essence, but of this they knew nothing. They were created to feel naught but one thing bloodlust.
The years have passed since their time. Whether they have passed from this world into the next or merely into the shadows, men know not. But the bards, the storytellers, they still sing of those children, of the cruel fate that was theirs to bear...
Cold as ice,
Wrought of brightest gold.
Hearts of stone,
Tainted blood of old.
Terror in their victims eyes,
Pleas for mercy, helpless cries,
Silenced by blades keen.
Behold the offspring of your sin,
Born of senseless hate,
And by that all-consuming thirst,
Tethered to their fate.
Can you see those childrens eyes,