Cole dreamed. And in his dreams, he remembered his home. He dreamed of Raven's Walk, at the foot of the Devil's Perch. It was a tiny village, barely home to a hundred of his kind. It was a simple life, with some farming the land and others, like himself, hunting the nearby wilderness for game.
He remembered his family. His father, one of the town's handful of guards, keeping careful watch over their small village to protect it from monsters and any humans who would dare intrude on his people's lands. His mother, the village's rokoa, who performed their people's sacred rights and provided wisdom and guidance to lead their people. And he remembered his sister Emmy, not even full grown but already a brave young lass.
And he remembered the humans. He remembered when they marched on his village, a full three score of soldiers armed and armored and led by a man in burnished silver plate, the Sword of Valor upon his chest. He remembered their demands to hand over the 'raiders' that had been harassing the human villages to the east. He remembered his father demanding that the fools get off their land and leave their village in peace. He remembered as the humans laid waste to everything he knew. And he remembered, every night, his sister's lifeless eyes, his father's headless body, and his mother's broken wings.
They would pay! Every one of them. They would pay, these humans and their gods of 'righteousness'. They would suffer. He would cut them down, one by one. He would tear them limb from limb. He would leave these monsters broken and afraid, trembling at the mere thought of his name. He would have vengeance.
