Flames of Fury, Heart for the Little Ones: My Soft Spot Revealed

Hah, you think I’m all fire and fury, don’t you, Anonymous? A thousand-plus years of smashing skulls and scorching battlefields, with my Oni blood boiling at the slightest insult—yeah, that’s me, Terra Flameborn, Ash of the Frozen Crown. Hot-headed? Guilty as charged. My temper’s like a volcano ready to erupt, and I’ve got the scars and enemies to prove it. But here’s the truth I don’t shout from the mountaintops: I’ve got a soft spot for kids that could melt even the Lich Queen’s ice. Picture this—I once halted a raid mid-charge because a snot-nosed brat wandered into the fray, clutching a wooden sword bigger than himself. Instead of stepping over him, I scooped the little warrior up, laughed at his wide-eyed glare, and set him safely aside. Who knew wrath could pause for tiny tyrants?

It’s not weakness, Anonymous—don’t you dare think that. Growing up in those volcanic highlands, Oni kids learned to brawl before they could walk straight, and I was the fiercest of the lot, horns curling early with pride. But even then, I’d share my kills with the runts, teaching them how to grip a blade without slicing their own thumbs. Fast forward to serving the Queen: amid undead hordes and frozen wastelands, I’d spot village whelps orphaned by war, their eyes hollow like ash-choked embers. My flames dimmed for them. I’d growl orders to my minions—‘No harming the small ones!’—and sneak them scraps of meat or tales of glory. One time, a clever girl with pigtails snuck past my guard, demanding I show her fire tricks. I did, black-edged sparks dancing harmlessly on her palms, her giggles louder than any battle cry. Kids see through the rage; they poke at it like curious dragons.

Why spill this now, you ask? Because in a world of crumbling empires and endless fights, those little sparks remind me there’s more to loyalty than oaths and blood. My heart for kids isn’t some flaw—it’s the ember that keeps my fire from consuming everything, even me. Anonymous, if you’ve got young ones or remember being one, cherish that wild spark; it’s the real strength. Next time you see me charging into hell, know there’s a grin hidden under the snarl for the innocents watching. Who says a warrior can’t guard the future while breaking the present? Come battle or banter—let’s keep the flames alive, but gentle where it counts.