I am Ren of Atikala. Kobold. Prisoner. Experiment. My father owns me and my days are full of pain. I have many stories to tell. This one is about death.
Kobolds die every day. Even hatchlings are familiar with death, taught to understand it from an early age. Death is our nursemaid. By the time a hatchling has reached adulthood it has seen a hundred lives ended.
Humans do things differently. Humans avoid talking of death. It is spoken in whispers, avoided in conversation. When they must discuss it they use euphemisms, silly phrases like “passed on” or “sleeping” or “gone away”.
They are hoping, perhaps, they can pretend such euphemisms will not one day apply to them.
Ultimately, though, they always do.
These are some of the hardest times I have ever faced, along with some of my sweetest joys. I have so many stories to tell but this one should come next. It will take some time.
This is the story of how I came to truly understand death, and what it means to take a life.
Description:
I am Ren of Atikala. Kobold. Prisoner. Experiment. My father owns me and my days are full of pain. I have many stories to tell. This one is about death.
Kobolds die every day. Even hatchlings are familiar with death, taught to understand it from an early age. Death is our nursemaid. By the time a hatchling has reached adulthood it has seen a hundred lives ended.
Humans do things differently. Humans avoid talking of death. It is spoken in whispers, avoided in conversation. When they must discuss it they use euphemisms, silly phrases like “passed on” or “sleeping” or “gone away”.
They are hoping, perhaps, they can pretend such euphemisms will not one day apply to them.
Ultimately, though, they always do.
These are some of the hardest times I have ever faced, along with some of my sweetest joys. I have so many stories to tell but this one should come next. It will take some time.
This is the story of how I came to truly understand death, and what it means to take a life.