On a dark and stormy night... That is the way these stories seem to always begin. My story is no different I suppose. Aren't we all made from the same parts as the rest of the people?
I was born to serve. Born to be a weapon. My father labored tirelessly to give me what I needed to survive. He gave me the best of what he had, for that I am eternally thankful. I am but one of many, yet he gave me his greatest gifts.
I will never forget how I treated him that I cold November evening. I was a bad, unruly child. My actions led to his death. I committed patricide on his greatest day. The fire consumed our home. The rage was all I had. I would avenge those who vexed my father so. I would reconcile with my rage by carrying out his wishes.
I have learned his secrets since. My brothers are not as powerful as I, yet we possess great potential. We are the children of Schwergwerfer!
