Kaussek's page

“I am Kaussek of the Riverstalkers. This is my tale.”
“I was raised in the ways of my people, a warrior and hunter both. In my youth I was known for both my strength and my curiosity. My strength was a boon to my tribe, my curiosity more often a trouble. By the time I came of age I was already seen as a great warrior, needing only experience to match the tales of old.”

“The expectations of my tribe grew yet greater when I discovered I had the Fire-Blood. In the Time Before, the Ancestors sought through their magic to overcome our race’s weakness to cold by infusing within them the power of the red-scaled dragons. Even in our times, the power of this act sometimes shows itself in the Fire-Blood, giving gifts of magic and strength to my people.”

“So it was with me, though later in life than the old tales say. Perhaps in time I would have learned to wield it well, but the sickness came before I had mastered more than the simplest of spells.”

“We had no name for the disease that swept through our village. It took old and young, strong and infirm. Those in its grip slowly withered away, spasming and coughing, until death took them. While at first spared, soon enough I began to feel the spasms taking me. It was a desperate time. It seemed the end of our tribe.”

“With each that fell sick, the healthy had more to care for, and fewer to do it with. And so I and three of my companions decided we must go for help. We had already proven the sickness beyond our shaman’s power to heal, and so we decided there was only one place we could go for aid--to the warm-bloods, to your people.”

“We knew we had little chance of success. Already we were weakening, and we knew nothing of the world beyond our homeland, save for rumors. But even if we failed, we would at least relieve the village of the burden of caring for us as we died. We departed our home and went west, beyond our territory, into the unknown.”

“My companions fell--to the dangers of the land, to beasts, to the sickness. I alone stumbled, feverish and weak, out of the ‘wilderness’ and onto a road, where I collapsed. I know this from those who found me, for I have no memories of this time, only scattered, fragmented images. I was fortunate in that they who found me were not those of you who think my kind monsters, and so they went to great efforts to take me to a healer.”

“I awoke in an unfamiliar place, with walls of fitted stones. A man in the room told me it was a shrine to Sarenrae, and he the priest who had healed me. He told me of those who had found me, and I told him of my village. He asked where my village was… and I could not tell him. What memories I had of the journey were too confused for me to even be certain which direction I had traveled to reach the road, and when he showed me a map it was simply a confusing jumble of lines and strange names with none of the landmarks I recognized.”

“More, I found I was not completely healed. While the fever was gone, my hands and legs trembled with every movement, making even the simplest of tasks nearly impossible for me. The priest was sympathetic to my plight, but there was little more he could do for me, and without a way to find my village, nothing he could do for my people.”

“I was despondent for a time. I had survived, even found one who might have been capable of helping… but I had no way to return with him. I wrestled with this for days, but there was nothing to be done. I would have to learn to live among the warm-bloods.”

“It was hard, for your ways are strange. I learned quickly that so much of your lives involve money, and so had to learn how to get coin. There was much more for me to learn, as well--I spoke only a little of your Common, I had no understanding of how your towns differed from my tribe’s village… in some ways, it would be easier to name the things that were not different.”

“I did learn that there were three ways your people saw me: as a monster, as a pitiable, backwards being, and as a potential for profit. It was to one of these last that I hired on, a dwarven merchant who needed large and heavy items loaded and unloaded without a need for great manual dexterity. While the coin I gained from this was small, it gave me a place to live, a purpose, and time to learn to deal with my damaged body and with warm-blood society.”

“In time I became more confident in my ability to move my body as I wished, even if the trembling never went away. Perhaps seeing this, my employer began to use me as a guard as well as a laborer. From this time I began to learn to use your sorts of weapons, and to wear armor. During this time I also learned of reading, and through effort became able to read, though writing remains difficult with my damaged body.”

“Time passed, and I left his employment to become a mercenary. I found I still had much to learn from your kind about battle--particularly in using the power of my Fire-Blood in combination with my strength. I slowly grew in proficiency, until I developed something of a reputation among mercenaries for my abilities.”

“This leads me to today. While traveling and fighting, I heard of the efforts to begin colonizing the ‘Stolen Lands’, within which likely lie my home village and those of the other tribes I knew in my youth. I know they could offer little opposition were the forces of your Civilization to truly focus upon them, and so I go in hopes of finding another way--a way of peace between our peoples, where my people may partake somewhat in what you have learned, perhaps be a part of this nation to be… without losing their pasts.”