I scream at my hands, burned to the bone. I'll kill him. I'll get that bastard. Water slowly leaks from my palms, it crystalizes into snow on my hands, it freezes over and the frostbite extends further. I raise my arm and throw spikes of ice at him, that fiery monster. I offered him everything! A job! A life! And he burned me to the bone! I saw my own bones! I even feel this frostbite pumping my blood around because of the damage you caused! My arm cracks and reforms to move it now! I roar as those monsters run in on eight legs. One leaps on the wall and it smiles with it's ugly mouth, mandibles twitching. I scream and shoot an icicle inside of it. It blows the coldest air from it's mouth with it's last breath, but it doesn't affect me, I no longer feel cold, just anger. I huff, "I'll just become cold." I hop down and grab at my throat, my voice!, my frozen arm cracks to a fine point. I shake my head, "I'll become the cold." I'm already a ruthless bastard. I'll end you, boy, for what you did. Then you, father. Then I'll have the whole Onyx Order at my back. You are an enemy of all poachers and smugglers, hell, might as well brand ourselves as monster hunters. I frown as they come snarling and chomping like the inhuman beasts they are.

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