My name is Zathraban Cil’triss and this is my account.
“Zath”, my sister would always tell me, “Zath, you are too ambitious.”
I would laugh at her and say “Dria, one day I’ll return and have more wives then the Chief Elder. But don’t worry my sweet sister, you’ll be one of them.”
Thus was my childhood. Raised in Tu’narath, the largest of all Githyanki cities, I was separated from my birth parents, as was custom, and introduced to my cadre. Xen’dria was my cadre sister, and primary adolescent lover but that wouldn’t happen until later. Xen’dria, Tilloth, Eta’zarian, Fri’telios and myself were only one of many cadres in Tu’narath but we were suppose to be the most promising. Elders bet gold that it would come down to Eta’zarian and myself for who would return with the most kills, that was if we didn’t run afoul of each other. There was more betting on that.
I was taught the way of the blade and armor while I was taught the art of magic and ritual. Side-by-side my teachers blended warfare and scholarship, art and blood, faith and self-reliance, love and war; all as was the Githyanki way. Still, it was my time on the streets that taught me the most. I would slip away from my cadre and stalk Tu’narath’s secret places, getting her to reveal he dark secrets to me. My childhood was as thus, combat training, spell practice, daily prayer, tunnel delving, and normal childhood playfulness. Intense focus until all became one and I was ready to leave for my pilgrimage.
Once I reached adolescence but before I could become I man, I was given my choices. What weapon I would wield, what armor I would wear, what God I would worship, what path I would walk, What rituals I would learn, and more. For myself, I chose the path of magical combat, my weapon a longsword and my armor simple leathers. I would worship the God Kord to be strong, to be brave and to prove my might. I would learn rituals that helped me in my travels and not spurn the simple ones like other warriors do. I would blend everything into one and accept no one path to be greater then another. I would strive to be all the Githyanki could be and settle for nothing less the perfection. On my journey I would show outsiders what it means to be Githyanki and when I returned I would be a hero to my own people. The paragon of my race.
With a stoic heart and a solemn word I left home and traveled to the village of Glenfinnan, near the shores of Loch Shiel. It was near there that I met my first Human. She was lying in the road, blood spilling from the knife wound in her breast. I approached with caution.