Charge!

Your legs moved like lightning, your body charging as if shot out of a cannon. With nothing to limit you outside the barrier, you are unnaturally quick and nimble. Before they knew what hit them, your bulk crashed against the wall, leaving behind a massive dent. It wasn't enough to topple that segment, but a few extra rams took care of that. The few men that were near enough let loose their arrows. They whistled in the air like banshees. Some hit you and some didn't, but neither really mattered. It hardly hurt. You shouldn't stay for too long, before reinforcements arrive, but you decided to indulge your baser desires just a little longer. You picked up several of the unlucky soldiers who didn't get away in time, and ripped them apart, limb from limb. They were like little fireworks of blood. The ones who remained to witness fled, screaming in terror.

You roared like a demon from hell, scaring birds off, cursing the earth you stood on, and wilting the plants. Your work here is done.

Your work out there has just begun.

You jumped into a charge again, racing down the countryside. You ran through streams and lakes as if they weren't there, you ran through woods, brushing trees aside like matchsticks, and small hills and mounds were utterly decimated in your path. Only an hour later, and you were already several weeks worth of travel away from the Dark Lord's castle. It dawned on you slowly, but you realised you might not know which way you're going. You slowed down, jumbling your myriad legs in the process.

You looked at your surroundings. The sun was trying to drown you with its rays of light, and the clouds fled your sight. You were standing in a meadow, at the edge of a forest. The flowers beneath you screamed at your presence. It was peaceful, quiet save for the gentle wind that howled curses at your being. A part of you swears you were here before, or a place like it, running and laughing. The memories were foggy, like a distant song. No...

No, you were never here before. You were only born yesterday, made from the Dark Lords magic. This place, or any place like it, is and will always be nothing to you. But why did that sound like someone else, someone else's voice, someone else's opinion? Rage. Rage like a fire was stocked by a thousand souls inside you. Anger overwhelmed you, your arms tearing at the grass and flowers, uprooting them. It was a massacre. Why? Why were you so angry? A large swathe of flowers lay dead. Soon the entire meadow was gone. Why did it hurt so much? You howled unnaturally, an orchestra of voices. Your claws raked at the earth, as if somehow it'd quench your madness. You hurled rocks and pebbles in the air like a possessed loonatic. You charged into the forest, headbutting trees, tearing them from their roots, for the first time feeling like these were your own actions.

Free.

But you weren't. You had a master, and he gave you a task you MUST follow. North-east. Yes, it was north-east, wasn't it. To the human lands.