Being a young male in any society is troublesome much is expected out of this youth; he is to hunt, to be a warrior, a peacekeeper, the provider, he is to follow the words of his elders, he is a protector for the children. For Korut Malu of the Aradaru, being a young male was something much harder than he had ever dealt with; he was expected to do all this, yet he was berated, beaten, and cast aside at each attempt. He would learn these lessons would only make him something into much more than a peddler of jewelry he would become the being he was meant to be.

It was a hot day on the ash lands, other than normal Korut's weariness had forced him to set himself aside. His feet were in pain, blisters, cracks, and overall aches had taken it all out of him. He was a messenger this day and delivering the message to the Navamdi clan, the primary trading partner of the Aradaru needed to be informed that the Aradaru would be moving toward the northern part of Vvardenfell, for fear of being attacked by Telvanni privateers. Korut had done the job, but his feet just had had enough of the torment.

"Worthless things.." he muttered as he found his spot of shade nestled between two ash covered boulders, the massive rock formations providing all the shade he would ever want or need. The ash lands, the Red mountain was supposed to provide such comforts, all of it was supposed to be who he was, and he was supposed to be it in return. The slow-growing sneer had said otherwise for him and had made those sentiments burn away. His blood burned and boiled with rage, he gritted his teeth as he felt the very fire within him come forth through his. He felt it all, as he opened his hand and began to scorch the already ash caked boulder near him. The rock hissed in protest as Korut let the living personification of his rage go on and on until he was even wearier. He slumped back onto the ash covered ground in a myriad of emotions.

"This is not a life for me, to die here, in this forsaken barren dead land." his voice cracked softly, not in anger, nor in sadness, but the raw emotion was bleeding through. "To die here, to forever be known as Ashworm. Is not the lie for me." slowly he let his eyes close to letting the dark blanket of sleep wash over him. His dreams were vague and silent, only small impressions, it was of the young mer himself, his feet carried the young man. Upon waking up he coughed heavily before spitting up phlegm mixed in with ash that gotten into his mouth over the course of a few hours. Eventually, he sat up coughing up more debris, grunting as he stood up he would begin his long walk back to the Aradaru settlement.

The Aradaru tribe was only about a thousand strong, though it wasn't always this way. The Aradaru used to be a much larger tribe, but over the last few decades conflict with the Telvanni house mer; the conflicts were always something of a one-sided massecre, the Aradaru had magic, and some fighters, but compared to the Telvanni they didn't have the complex spells and deadlier weapons these house mer possesed. The torches were lit ablaze, and Korut knew that although this was home, if he didn't leave it would be his grave.