Anger issues

I started the next day off singing. Of the many, many, many things I hated about myself, I have never been able to bring myself to dislike my voice. I would even consider it my number one attractive quality. My looks were nothing to remarkable, better than average I guess? Unfortunately, I also could never speak to people I wanted a real relationship with, otherwise my every word would manipulate them. Not that I've ever had one that is.

So I never could really showcase this ability. Thankfully I was in the biggest nest of thieves, murderers, and rapists in the world, so I could sing and manipulate to my heart's content.

Setting off after a breakfast of warm mush, I sang several jovial marching tunes. Uplifting my mood throughout the day, singing brought a smile to my face even as I ordered countless orders to suicide. I did not smile because I liked killing, in fact, each order made my stomach tighten in disgust at myself. That being said, I would never hesitate to mercilessly slaughter my enemies. Hesitating to do what needs to be done will only get you killed.

However, had I not been merrily singing and trying to find some semblance of happiness in this brutal world, I think I would have gone insane a long time ago. Though, as of now I'm probably completely mad and just in denial.

In the afternoon I happened upon a very large bandit's den. The entrance was a vast cave that overshadowed the path like the impending maw of a monstrous beast. Two dozen well armed guards patrolled the entrance. I was in the middle of a song depicting a great heroes exploits and thinking of passing them by, when I was rudely interrupted mid-verse.

"You there! YOU! Damn pretty voice! Drop your goods and come with me quietly! RESIST AND YOU DIE!"

"OH HO! Sure, but do me a favor first. Kill everyone you consider a comrade. Please."

One of the bandits rudely interrupted me, and then made unreasonable demands.This man ignited the flames of my rage, having interrupted me while in the midst of my stress coping exercise. So I responded unreasonably in kind.

The guards drew their blades and hoisted their spears. They then charged into the bandit's nest with more than apparent blood lust.

"Shit. I did it again didn't I…"

...

My stress induced anger has been a problem for the last few years now. I chalk it up to the fact that I'm only twenty years of age, and the constant stressful fact that is my existence. I must reflect on this, such thoughts flashed through my mind as I stepped into the dark cave.

The cave itself was incredibly spacious. The vast dome expanded vertically nearly twenty stories high. To say nothing of its horizontal width. It had a diameter of nearly a half-mile. It seemed as though holes had been drilled into parts of the cave roof to provide sunlight. The cave was well lit and because of that I could see the impending predicament I just stepped into.

Swarming like bees in a hive, hundreds if not thousands of men and women were running about on wooden ramparts either carrying pickaxes or hammers. Very few held actual weapons. The wooden ramparts connected hundreds of large holes in the cave walls. It was from these tunnels the men and women, the miners, poured out from. Though, I say miners, they were most likely slaves. All seemed malnourished and wore nothing but dirty rags, the bandits, the people who were dressed like the guards outside, tried to use them as human shields. The guards, who I may have unwittingly driven to insanity, hunted down their former comrades with the ferocity of predatory animals. The hunters disregarded the people in rags, and only preyed upon those in armor. Ironically it was probably a good thing that they didn't see the slaves as comrades.

Though I say that, by I time I stepped into the room,the ground was littered with corpses, many of which were scorched and blackened. The guards had seemed to be 'blessed' with the fire element, an unwieldy and dangerous ability. As proof, here and there were burned corpses of the collateral damage. It seemed as though the slaughter would last forever, but only seconds after I entered, the guards I controlled ran out of mana.

Mana was a mysterious substance that seemed to gather within all things, living or dead, and was the key to a 'blessed's' power. Though mana would naturally flow back into the body over time when expended, there was a natural limiter in place that acted as the boundaries for a person's capabilities. This determined the quality of a 'blessing', if a body was a container then some bodies could contain only a small glass, while others could contain oceans. Mana was expended faster when one made their ability stronger or have a bigger effect. Take the fire element for instance, the hotter or more area one made their fire, the more mana would be expended. It was really that simple. Of course the rate of mana recovery also depended on the the person in question.

I don't think I've ever run out of mana before, but I do get a headache when talking to a bunch of people, so maybe I have? I think the stronger a targets will is, the more I use. I'm not really sure, but I definitely couldn't say the same for the controlled guards. They ran out of juice faster than I thought they would, and now they were being killed one by one by the weight of numbers. Only numbering a dozen, and more over spread out, they were subjugated by their former comrades rather quickly.

The element of surprise is truly important. The controlled guards rushed in while the enemy was unsuspecting, and then killed four times their number before being killed themselves. Truly impressive. It was a disgustingly effective stratagem.

"I wish to speak with the leader of you thieves and murderers. Please bring your boss out immediately. If you want to continue to live that is!"

Silence. I took off my hood, and met a person's eyesight for the first time in the last few months. I had directed my voice towards the armored bandits, so all anyone else should have heard was a nice voice wreathed in anger. (No guarantees though!) While the bandits gasped and some even violently trembled, the slaves gave almost no reaction. I was feeling guilty for all the death I had wrought today, so I didn't really want to kill anymore. If it came down to it though I would do so. The countless slaves at least, who had been pulled from the tunnels to be used as human meat shields, seemed to innocent. Hell, I even saw some children looking at me with dead eyes filled with despair. Every look from the men, women, and children seemed to be just different versions despondency. My eyes barely even affected them they were in such despair! Screw it, I feel like killing these guys again! I don't know what they did, but they're going to suffer for it! Shit, I need to calm down or I'm just going to make everything worse...

"Go, unless unless you want what happened to your friends to happen to you!"

A few bandits stiffly ran off to look for their leader, while those that remained looked uneasy and visible nervous. It seemed that they had discerned that the cause of the disturbance was my handiwork. Even if they hadn't, at the very least they didn't seem like they were suddenly going to attack me. After all, the only thing these blasted eyes of mine were good for were stare downs like these.

After waiting for what seemed to be a good fifteen minutes, the crowd of slaves and guards parted. The bandit leader had come to the front lines.