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My name is X'ragash and I am, or better more was a k'stulaami from a small t'skrang community where I grew up. This community was part of a larger kaer, and in the year TH1420 the kaer opened. They were quite a small community, as not so many t’skrang were born inside the kaer during the scourge. It was the year, when life for the t’skrang went back to normal, as they ended their hibernation, and set out to settle at Lake Pyros. They settled at the shores of the lake, where they started to build a small village, fish, and also build boats to travel the lake and the river.
My father T’shenkin and my mother Igalla build a small home for them, and life was quite normal in the first two years. They were so delighted to be outside, being able to enjoy the water, and live a normal life. I was born two years after the kaer was open, and we could have been a normal family, if, if not it had entered our village.
The kaer had opened too early as our community experienced very soon. Two years after they settled at the Lake, the year of my hatching, a horror was able to enter their community and started to corrupt our population. It began more subtle, fights started over a minor argument, with people shouting at each other, quarrels breaking loose for nothing, over the years they got more physical, with weapons drawn. The t’skrang in the community betrayed each other, hurt each other, it was total devastation. In one close family of mine, actually, it was the family of my father’s sister, the youngest t’skrang did not keep quiet – so they just cut out his tongue. Their neighbours son was restless, just a child with lots of activity and very physical so they broke his legs. As this did not help, after he healed up, they decided it would be best to cut off his tail to teach him a lesson. Just to imagine, a tail is so much for a t’skrang, and cutting it off from a child? I just shudder at the thought of it. But the kids were made to commit evil acts as well, the son and daughter of the captain from the main boat of our village sneaked into the breeding chamber for the eggs, drilled a small whole into the egg of my sister, and filled it with water, letting the unborn t’skrang drown in his own egg. When their father found out, he ripped out their eyes, so they should never again be able to find all the tools needed for such a vile act. And as a final punishment, they he let them starve, feeding them only once per week, as they were housed in cages and exposed to the elements. It took them two years to die…. Then, one night, friends of his children came around, locked him up on his boat, and set the thing on fire. Besides he was burnt alive, the village also lost one main source of income. So it went on and on, evil after evil, after evil. Slowly numbers dwindled, total paranoia was in the village, and what kept us together – a horror, feeding on our pain and devastation.
As said, I was a k'stulaami, born with a membrane, which enables us to glide through the air. My mother told me, that she was devastated when she I krept out the egg, but nevertheless, what could she do? What did she know that that problem was solved in a way, she never wanted to occur. Entering kaissa I had the desire to fly, as all k’stulaami do, feeling the air, challenging my own fears. I remember it as today, there was a small cliff at the edge of the village, where I wandered, full of excitement I climbed on top of it, and then there was a voice, asking me, if I really want to fly? I should not do it, it is too dangerous, no just go home. So I went home, driven by a force I did not understand, feeling the urge to fly brought me close to insanity. Entering our home I flew into a rage, smashing everything around, and then taking the shards of the broken glass and tearing both my k’stulaa’s. As I felt the pain inflicting on myself, I could feel the horror just bathing and enjoying it, not only my physical pain, but something deep inside me tore as well, I had destroyed myself, my inner being as a k’stulaami, I was something now, not a t’skrang, not a k’stulaami, I don’t know. The desire to fly become unbearable at some times, and then I went outside, close to insanity I started jumping from trees and houses and he broke my bones, which healed up again, just to repeat the same procedure again over and over. Why I did not slip into total insanity? Probably it would have been a blessing, would have been an end to the pain. No, I came back, and just sat there, starring at what had I done to myself, feeling the inner pain, the scars on my soul, feeling desperation in not being able to do what I most wanted to do. Probably the horror just kept me there, to let me survive, not for my own sake, but probably he could better feed on me, when I was conscious and able to recognize my own state.
Another time I went out to ‘fly’ from a cliff at the lake, and yes, ended up in the water. As I have never learnt to swim, I started to drown, and again could feel tagging something on me, to revel in my pain and fears. Then three young t’skrangs jumped into the water to get me out, if they only had let me drown, without being able to control my self I was forced to use their bodies to pull myself forward, moving over them, pushing them underwater, without any thought about them. Reaching the shore I looked back, and saw fish appearing at the surface, who first shred the t’skrangs tails, to hinder their swimming, then their hands and feet, and slowly, very slowly they shredded them to bits. The sea filled with their blood, their bodies disappeared and their screams are still echoing in my ears. If that would only have been they end, but no, they re-emerge as cadaver t’skrangs to live with us, a reminder for me every day that I had caused their death. I just sat their, terrified, full of guilt, and felt, how it satisfied the horror. What was worse, the guilt, or that I could feed a horror, or both?
Being back at the village I was terrified with myself, what had become of us, and that it would not end – ever. Total desperation took hold of me, and I decided the best would be die - to escape the horror and end it. What did I know, you cannot die if a horror has too much fun with you. I was his pet and it took care of me…. – heading towards Thunder Mountains I started to climb it, looking for a cliff to use for myself. I scrambled upwards, desperate and longing to end it all, and finding a cliff I leapt of the edge, and awaiting to embrace death, I felt the hard impact off the ground. I survived, I was not allowed to die, I went crazy, wanting to hurt myself, trying desperately to die, but to no avail. I could not do it. And so they found me, it was a group of five adepts, who must have seen me leaping down the cliff. They were, as he learned later on, J’arras, an obsidiman horror stalker, Buzz, a windling wizard, Toran, an elven nethermancer, Rasg, an ork warrior, and Grynn, a dwarf weaponsmith. They must have been there for some time, and the obsidiman just glared at me. “Bring us to your village!” he demanded from me, “No, not back, I don’t want to hurt anyone else, don’t.” I begged him, but he came up to me, grapped me and demanded again, that I led the way to my village. I tried to get free and punched, and the last thing for me to notice was a blow to my head which left me unconscious. They managed to get to the village, following my trail must have been an easy task, and there the adepts went around questioning anyone, and were able to localize the horror, who was inside the house of the village’s governor, thus holding a strong grip on the community. They were able to defeat it, with the obsidiman in the lead and being the main person to take out the horror. With the horror's defeat, the carnage in the village stopped, and slowly live started to get back to normal. I did not feel any joy of us being freed, to much guilt had built up on myself, but I was free. The adepts left after a day, to go to their next task and with it, any chance to learn how to defeat the horrors left as well. I made up my mind, I wanted to wipe out a tiny bit of my guilt, at whatever cost, as I had already decided to throw my life away. They were the only chance for me to learn a way to compensate a bit for his shortcomings. Seeing them disappear in the distance, I ran home, grabbed some things I thought could be useful, and followed them. They noticed me, but did not ask me to join immediately, so I kept my distance. Staying overnight I did not dare to enter their camp, but followed them again, as they broke up camp. It must have been around noon, when the obsidiman turned around, stops me and just asked, what I wanted. “Following your discipline,” I could only mutter. He glared at me for a long time, then nodded, “alright, come with me.” And so I joined them and got trained as a horror stalker. Did matter anything? Not yet, but at least I am better prepared, if I meet one, and if I die trying to defeat one, I die, if I survive, I live to hunt the next one. And thus wash of a black dot on my dark canvas of life. And so be it this is my purpose in life.
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