Legends of Belariath
Mozenwrathe
Quetzl pt. 1 - Without Forked Tongue
The pattern on my skin is my own and none else. There is not a single other male who would appear the same as I, and for this do I give thanks to my god, the spirit-demon Balamob - our god of war. Though instated as a god by my people, do I know his true origins and reasons for his verbal ascension by the ruling Lyxteric (priestesses) from my homelands.
Though most of my people would consider me outcast or pariah, have I been welcomed to the city-states whenever I have made my presence known. Here, unlike in the far more traditional lands where my scales were first shed, may a young Sithian find their way into upper echelons as long as they do not overstep their karma. Some of those whom even now listen to me would not understand how one can do that, so perhaps I ought explain more about myself before I lose them completely.
In the Sithian society, there are many castes. A caste is a level of the society where you are born, not earned. If you perform well in the caste you are part of, shall the goddess Tepictuc notice you and raise you into a better caste. If you defy her will and continually do things against the proper way, shall you be sent down in castes - or even sent into a human body for the ultimate punishment. I was born into the Pataj caste, a slave of a thirsty and mistress whose appetites were well known throughout the small city-state I came from... on the third continent.
Yes, we of the Sithians are not merely one only one continent as some would have their children believe in bedtime stories, but also on another is some small degree. How we migrated across great and formidable oceans is beyond my ability to fathom, but one theory is that the wise and powerful Tepictuc The Hungry used some small portion of Her grand power to extend a single bridge of Her finest scales from Her back for the Sithian to populate another suitable homeland to spread Her name and worship. It worked well, for the rainforests I was born to are far from the legendary Cax’abac which I have yet to make pilgrimage to.
As a Pataj (slave, servant, or outcast), did I see much of the city-states of the third continent a young Sithian could hope to see. The mistress who owned me also owned my entire family, seeking in us a constant source of consolation and service. If not for her being a powerful mistress, could we have been separated easily as all of us showed talent in one aspect or another. The peoples of the forests in the third continent were mainly Sithians, but there were various tribes of sylvan elves, barbarian humans (who were in fact far more like us than real barbarians, which showed their ability to learn), catpeople of larger breeds than normally found on the second continent, wolven who had taken to the warmer climes... and one House of the Dark Elves.
To this day I know not what went on within the walls of the solitary Dark Elven sanctum, and I care never to find out. Even I have my limits when it comes to bravery, and facing an entire House of Dark Elves alone crosses that fine thread of spidersilk most readily.
When my mistress decided to free me, it was after a ragged and feral band of hewmahn bandits seeking blood and silk happened upon us - her and I and another of her favored concubine slaves. She and her maidservant hid behind a boulder, leaving me to fend for us all. Though I was not trained in the arts of combat, my instincts took over and even if my mistress was larger than I, my young muscles were honed for “wetwork” as I have heard hewmahn mercenaries call it. When we reached the pagoda, she announced her intentions to have me trained as a fighter for a bodyguard. My father was not too pleased about this turn of events, but he knew it was the best thing for the family. It would make the goddess raise us in the Great Circle of Endlessness our next time around.
My family, like most within the Sithian city-states, are very religious. It is only proper, for one does not wish a wrath-bent Lyxteric to wish ill upon you and rot away an arm to make you feel how much you need to repent. There are many ways the priestesses can make your family suffer for an imagined slight, or an unsuitable comment towards the goddess who gave birth to us all. Very few of the priestesses use their powers in idle amusement, for such would be an affront to the very goddess they serve... and would they themselves find themselves a Pataj perhaps without even leaving this lifetime for the next one. It has happened before, and shall happen again along as some refuse to remain humble in the eyes of the goddess.
As a young Sithian Pataj, being accepted into the ranks of proper Ku-Kirix (warriors or fighters) is a daunting task, often made improbable by the very faith which keeps the sithians strong. Readily were all the worst tasks relegated to me, with my instructors bearing no concept of time upon me to finish them, instead punishing me wickedly and eagerly for my tardiness to my lessons. When I defeated my first opponent after a severe whipping across my tender scales after carrying many loads of water to the dormitory of the head teacher without even being scratched by them, the students at least bore me a modicum of respect - they knew that trying to catch me to pummel me into submission would no longer avail them anything. It would take knocking out two of the teachers at the same time to cause my expulsion from that school - earning me the respect of elder Ku-Kirix and the silent cheers of Braka (workers, the common folk) as I passed them on my way home.
As I found myself at the doors of the pagoda where my mistress lived, did I hear a shriek of undeniable terror rip through. Moving as fast as my young body could, did I see the unimaginable happening: my mother, sister, my mistress and the favored concubine were surrounded by a gang of would-be rapists, all of which were naked except for runes and war paint covering their formed. They obviously had naught but rape and slavery on their minds for my blood and my sworn charges. Gathering up a chair previously broken by the marauders, I rushed them all with only their deaths on my mind. Since they were unarmed (except for their staves of flesh, which I removed with great relish by hand), the fighting did not last overly long. I lost the use of my right arm and my tail was horrendously torn and broken for a full two weeks before a magical healer could be found. Still, my mother and sister were safe, and my mistress was once again grateful for the warlike freeman she had at her side.
The mistress burned the sheets and clothes of all those who were within the room at the time of the assault. Offering the bodies of still writhing and wounded brigands to Tepictuc by incinerating them with her own potent sorceries (which she never used except for ritual and religious need for some reason), she assuaged her own fears as the flesh charred from the broken forms of the hewmahns.
There is much which has happened since then, including my passing from a child to an adult in the eyes of the Sithians on my thirty-third anniversary of my first sight of the sun. Of course, much happened before that day as well, not the least of which being my arrival on this continent. Of course, I shall leave that all for another day. I am tired now, and I wish to gather some sleep to myself before the dawning of tomorrow becomes the kiss of the morning.