But he could stay passive no longer as they began to slaughter his cattle. First Dorothy. Then Georgia. And then Roger. Poor, gentle Roger. His precious bovines screamed in pain as their throats were cut one by one.

Their cries would later become fuel for his endless rage.

Pin stood from the reeds as they approached Willard, his favorite of the bulls.

Legs shaking, voice trembling, he called out. "Why!? Why must you slaughter these majestic creatures?"

Krovos and Vordak turned. Pin's wavering heart could scarcely stand their chill gaze.

"Their blood is not as sweet as a human's, yet it is still blood," said Krovos simply. "We shall harvest it."

Shocked and shaken by the death of his family, the madness began to infest Pin's mind. The transformation took hold.

An insane scream rose from deep inside him as he charged forward.

Thick legs strengthened by years on the farm pumped vigorously as he bowled into Krovos. The scrawny Amarr man was flung off his feet as Pin wrapped his meaty hands around the other's throat. The Impaler choked in ragged gasps as Pin shook him in a mad frenzy.

Pin grabbed the curved blade of Vordak, wresting it from the weaker man's hands and throwing him to the ground. The two founders of the Blood Harvest lay on the ground before him, at the mercy of a farmhand's rage.

Then he turned to the cattle.

Willard's eyes widened as he sliced his throat. The bull stood still as Pin fell to his knees under a torrent of blood. He drank. And drank. Nearby, Krovos and Vordak stood by in awed silence. In that moment, showered by the blood of his best friend, the Great Harvest awoke within.

Thus, was the "Bovine" born.