wizen's avatar


  • 2021-10-15 16:09

At first glance, dear Journal, I must admit that I do not know what to make of these Skar. Their skeletal appearance and known habit of hunting in packs with little sense of order other than loser-gets eaten make them barbaric – no, worse, animalistic – and most certainly the lesser of the great races of Terminus. Yet, there must be more to them, for there are tales of agewalkers among these bestial brutes. Surely if they understand the subtleties of who to eat and not (for I'm sure there must be some such subtlety to Skar culture, if we're not now left with one fat skull person!) they can understand how to better impact their culture toward a desired end. But, I can't imagine that a Skar could comprehend a desired end other than a bloodied blade and a full stomach, were it not for the guidance of their Shaman.

Nothing is known of their plans for Skardom. They come from a land where they were slaves to a warlike people. Little would be known of this time but for one rescued slave, a Khägan. By her account were we Elves able to inform ourselves better about Skar hunger, both metaphorically and, regrettably, literally.

The god they swear to is a system of nine personalities, either at once or separately or both, 'tis not assured. They were not then called the Skar, though – they were granted their moniker far later, after they had overthrown their slave masters and eleven other nations, including their own. No, their name was the Aza'gn, and it was taken from them by the Nine God.

I consider the Dark Myr at this point. Their physical form was taken from them. What would it be like to have a word taken from you? One which held the meaning of freedom? Of unique identity and a people with a shared past? I suppose being named Skar doesn't change that, though, does it? But it's not just a name, is it? It's a word, stolen, supplanted with another you know is fake but cannot help but say in its place. A speech made with a syllable, “Skar”, and bone ridges granting a deathly visage, both damning them and announcing their ferocity with a word and a glance. Frightening.

Appropriate for a people who would have consumed the globe. I wonder if their swarm queen yet survives. I would hope that the Skar, as a people, would have learned not to follow random women on a quest to eat a planet.

Thankfully these strange beings seem self occupied, to say the least. Well fed.

Something just struck me. If the Skar lack upper and lower lips – that is, if their faces are, indeed, mostly skull on the outside – how would they form the F necessary to pronounce Fs'sok? No written record exists, so the slave would have had to hear the word from somewhere. This is either a reason to cast some shadow on the integrity of the witness or a mistranscription, and I can't imagine that an Elven scribe would make so sloppy a mistake as to add an extra letter.

I should like to travel to Skar lands and make (distant) study of their people. I understand that a colossal shard of their home planet yet sticks out of this Terminus, not unlike our Tree, and I should like to see how the Skar include it in their day to day comings and goings. There has to be something to these people, some reason they are considered one of the nine. What do the agewalkers know that the more traditionally learned community do not? Why take these fans of finger food seriously? What could they possibly offer other than an army that would eat itself? It does not make sense, and therefore there must be more to the story. What of Fs'sok? Do they use their finger to make the F noise? A myriad of questions and more come to mind, and I find myself overcome with a sense of absolute ignorance and a strong desire to remedy it.

Without grave risk to myself, I can not leave the protection of the Lucent Tree and my kin. Not until I have adequately prepared. Not until I am deemed ready by my betters.

We wait, and bide our time, and the Skar explore their newfound ability to breed. I hope they never figure out what seeds do, if they're not eating each other I dread to imagine what would happen. We must keep them hungry, for all our sakes.

A cruel note to leave on, perhaps, but the greater good must be considered.


H Weissen Thalesred Sig