Karalor Wolf-runner: You are the commander of the Royal Bodyguard. It's a fancy name humans use, but it's not yours. To your thinking, you are the Eye of the Warband of Sartar's Word. By treaty, the Telmori tribe sends 40 warriors (and their wolves) to act as the personal bodyguard of House of Sartar. Of course, it's a pretty cush job these days, since the Lunars wiped out the House eleven years ago. Well, maybe "cush" isn't the word. Remember, though your people have dealt with the humans, they have never been loved by them, or vice versa. They fear your Curse, and call you Krjalki; they revile your kind, they shun and hate you, and sometimes their fanatics even try to hunt and kill you. Being a Telmori in Sartar is not an easy thing. It is never an easy thing; you have always been outcast, hated and hunted through the centuries. Only King Sartar was honorable enough to deal with your people in trust, and he gave your people lands, so long as you would fight for his Heirs and his People.
Recent Historical Background: In more recent years, old hatreds and rivalries have made this difficult. Your tribe has spent more time fighting with the Sartarites than for them. When Sartar's decendants involved themselves in the Tarsh civil war, your people fought alongside them. Three times did Kostajor Wolf-Champion personally save the Heir. But as the Lunar menace approached, more humans muttered about how your Curse reflected the Lunar cycle, and mistrust grew. When the House of Death took its geases and oaths, they swore to be the SOLE defenders of the new Prince, though your people objected that their oaths usurped your obligations by treaty. Forced to challenge a god of death to keep your word, your people withdrew from the kingdom's defense. The humans answered with insult and accusations of cowardence, as was their way.
After the conquest, relations with your neighbors worsened. The Mabroder tribe began a series of raids and counter-raids that were worse than anything your people had known before. One particular clan often fought without honor and even harmed old women and pups, which is not the way of your people, nor, they claim, theirs. Though your people told of their dishonor, and spoke law with the humans in their fashion, your complaints were unheard or mocked, and the bloody warfare between your people continued. Honorless bandits; they finally committed a terrible atrocity by killing one of your far-hunting clans, down to the last wolf pup, the elders and older children. Only six children and one eldar to shepherd them were permitted to return and tell how the humans defiled their shrine by slaughtering a pregnant wolf bitch over it. There was no more talk of doing things the human way after that. Your people gathered into their warbands and struck suddenly across all the Mabroder lands; you returned to them by fire and blood what they had done to you. By the time your people finished, barely a quarter of their tribe was still alive, and those who survived did so by fleeing. The Lunars, so-called overlords, mounted a punative expedition the next year, but it was foolish. Your people shadowed it constantly, harried it occasionally, and fought with it sometimes, so it would claim victory and go away, which it did.
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