Nivak Kilthraka
		I was born to the human parents Nivak Sr. & Gustel Kilthraka in Marrionberg. My parents were very poor, and made a meager living selling livestock to passing travelers & locals. Our “home” was a one room shack on the outskirts of town. While it was meager, for sure, it was still a happy home. Despite our lack of wealth, the Kilthrakas were able to get by, and we often found time for fun. Afternoons were frequently spent hiking through the local woods, where I’d often hone my skills of stealth by stalking my poor father. As well, I was learned in the trade of livestock, and had grand dreams of one day taking over my parents’ business. Then my happy childhood came to an abrupt end. One afternoon my father and I were feeding the chickens & chatting about the future. My father & I heard a shriek, and ran to where we discovered my mother on the ground. Her handsome features had been shattered; blood & mucus ran down her face as she convulsed on the ground before me. As tears began to well and roll down my cheeks, I heard the sound of my father screaming. I looked up just in time to see something which I will never forget. A “man”, if you could call it that, was grappling with my father, just a few yards in front of me. His skin was a sickly green hue, puss and ooze ran from his mouth and nose, his bare arms were covered with unsightly welts and lumps… he was a mutant. I had of course heard stories of grotesque abominations of the flesh, once human but turned by the taint of Chaos. Up to this point these had been merely scary stories my friends and I would share, nothing more. Now the scary story was here, in the flesh, fighting with my beloved father. As I stood there watching helplessly, the horror of the situation finally hit me. Terror overwhelmed me, and I dashed to our meager cabin in fear. I watched from the window as the foul creature tore my strong, proud father to pieces. He put up a good fight, as he was after all a Kilthraka, but in the end he sucommed to the mutant’s Chaos fueled strength. His mutilated body eventually lay still, several yards from my mother’s corpse. The mutant went on to slay most of our precious livestock, then sauntered back into the darkness from whence it came. I spent a full day huddled in our cabin, weeping and praying to Sigmar that this had not actually happened. I prayed that it was all but a terrible nightmare, a dream of which I may soon awake and discuss with mother & father. But my prayers were not answered. Eventually I mustered all of the inner strength possible, and ventured outside to properly bury my parents. I toiled all day, digging shallow graves with my young hands, until finally the gruesome task was complete. Covered head to toe in blood, shaking with terror and fatigue, I made the decision to move on. I burned our home, our modest cabin, down to the ground. I slaughtered what little was left of our livestock, gathered what provisions and supplies I could, and left my home. The following few years were filled with hardache & pain as I meaked out a meager existence. Silver and gold were scarce, and what little I was able to accumulate came at the expense of my pride & conscience as I pilfered livestock and resold it to disreputable travelers. I came to the conclusion that if I wanted something, I would have to take it myself, as the world was a dark and uncharitable place. As well, I vowed that I would someday live a life of luxury, and that someday I would be powerful enough to avenge my parents’ gruesome deaths at the hands of vile Chaos.
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