Ratonga

I write this for you, the young ones of the pack.

The lesser-ones, yes, the bane-touched creations given our name – As if they could ever replace us! HA! They were to carry out the Agenda. They knew enough of the plan to carry it out, say the pack elders. They were to be used. Tools to our ascension, discarded when done. But now we are cut off from them. You don’t think they could be messing it all up or worse, they could be fulfilling it, and reaping the rewards for themselves!? To even think of those pathetic no-claws conquering and spreading disease throughout the world when they only deserve to serve us, the true roekillik!

I was not there, nor was my sire, or his, or my greatsire, but oh, I know the lesser ones’ place and history! Even if they do not! We came first, carved out of the Clay of Cosgrove, by Brell Serilis, that miserable excuse for a deity! But then he didn’t like us. He attacked us, his own creations, when he learned of my ancestor’s campaign of dominating and purifying the Underfoot! What else were we to do?! We have always been good at killing! It is said that we had successfully brought about the eradication of several inferior beings within the Underfoot. Even then we knew it was our destiny to conquer all of Norrath. We are superior!

His divine wrath crushed and cut down a great many of us! The true roekillik were all but destroyed. Smote by our own creator! Unwilling or able to annihilate all of us, he imprisoned the few survivors within the Vaults of Serilis. Guess he didn’t have the spine for eradication! There my ancestors languished, unable to dig their way out, despite their teeth and claws, the very instruments bestowed upon us by Brell for burrowing through the stone of the Underfoot. Then to find that he went back to his pile of clay and created them, the lesser-ones!

Our jailer and creator tried to recreate us, but this time he employed the help of Bristlebane. Good ‘ole ‘Bane boy! A touch of mirth was to be added to these new creatures, with the intention of replacing the “darkness” that he claimed dwelled with us. At first, the plan seemed to work and Brell smiled upon our imitations. But his mockery didn’t stop there! He named them roekillik too! His creativity must have hit bedrock! Disfigured and crippled imitations, they had inferior teeth and hardly any claws to speak of. But what they lacked in menace they made up for in deception! To our glee, the King of Thieves had given them this talent in secret.

They began to spread out from the lowest reaches of the Underfoot, rebelling against Brell’s wishes, and venturing into the higher levels of the plane. Oh, how they grow up! Once there, they began stealing the riches of the Underfoot, hoarding and amassing treasures. And oh, when daddy Brell discovered this was he furious! Although, he went rather easy on them, if you ask me. Rather than decimating the no-claws, he merely imprisoned them within the Vaults, confining them within his fortress, alongside the true roekillik.

Brell’s arrogance and foolishness made our foresires livid! He had created us, and we were superior to all that existed! How dare he attempt to “improve” upon us with these new ones, and then say these lesser-ones were worthy of life, while we were not!? The battle that occurred within the Vaults of Serilis was devastating! Their pack out numbered ours, but they were no match for the deranged ferocity and wicked cunning of the true roekillik. We are superior! Before the sentries of Brell were able to separate them, nearly all of the pitiful no-claws were slaughtered, with the survivors quickly enslaved by our foresires. We were their ascendants in more ways than one!

Through my own experiences, I have gained knowledge and insight into the ratonga. Each part of this history tome can only be completed in its own time.

Story 1

Since the world is changed and we come to live on the surface, some traditions may be lost. May you learn the ratonga ways and keep them. Many are the grains of sand in the desert and also many are the years of the ratonga. Long did we dwell in the hidden places of the world, in the hidden places of the heart. Listen now, my children, draw close to hear our story, our song.

In the long-ago when the shape of the world was different, we first awoke in the darkness. See our hands? They are thin and quick and more agile than the hands of any other. See our whiskers? They take the measure of the air and the thoughts of others.

There are many paths to the light, but few that lead back into the darkness. Many are those of the surface that fear the dark, but if they could see what we see in the light, they would fear that as well. Light creates shadows. Without light, there is no dark.

In the darkness, the Ancient of ratonga whom we call Belaska was pursued by her enemies and they caught her. She kept her fur combed and clean and slipped from their grasp, but they clung to her and would not let go. She found a small tunnel and fled into it.

Still her enemies grasped at her, pulling and pulling as Belaska twisted and clung to the sides of the tunnel. She was stronger than her enemy and pulled herself free, but her enemies' hands had stripped the luxurious fur from her tail. And that is why the ratonga tail has but fine silken hairs and not fur. Run combs of ivory and bone through your fur often and you will live long.