The slave's story does not begin with himself, no. Instead it begins with an elf maiden far from the Sultai Brood in the high Cori Mountains. There she attempted day after day to follow the Ojutai teachings, but was unable to center herself. Always there seemed something to do, somewhere to go, some pressing matter that had to be attended to. Her behavior caused the masters there no end of anguish and irritation, and after a time she was exiled from the hallowed meditation halls. With little else to turn, she joined the hidden Jeskai ways, and all too often spoke within concealed basements and darkened cellars of her desire to see the world. The others counselled her that the world was a dangerous place, not fit for one such as she, and that she would perish, but after time and time of her speaking brazenly of the world outside they gave her their blessings, and she left.
She traveled then, and made her way slowly throughout the region. On her travels she joined a caravan, and was instantly smitten by a human guard, who too fell in love with her. Urged by her talk of leaving everything behind and seeing the wide world, she turned his head with stories and convinced him to leave with her once the caravan reached its destination. And so the two journeyed for years, seeing the wonders of the world in all its glory and taking in every sight and sound imaginable. The natural course of things led to her becoming heavy with child, and that child was the purest form of joy either could imagine. But it was not to last.
One day, while travelling to the East of regions that Kologhan ruled, they were beset by a pack of slave traders. The man fought valiantly, and the elven lady through spell after spell, but eventually they were overcome. Still, their spirit was not broken, and though the child was ripped from their arms, they vowed to break free. And so they did--for a few moments. But the slave traders were too perceptive, and the two were quickly captured, and executed only after having killed more of the guards. Words of love and fury at their captors were the last things on their lips, none of which the young babe, only a few years of age, would remember in the years to come.
The boy was presented as a gift to the rakshasa who presided over this specific caravan, for while the guards were not his direct servants, it tarnished his reputation a smidgen to have guards in his caravan slain in such numbers. The rakshasa accepted the gift, and plotted, for he had need of an apprentice to handle the busywork of the laboratory he meticulously kept, and the boy would do well... eventually. The rakshasa named the boy Bamgara, a fitting slave name for one so young, and in private would refer to him simply as "boy" or "Bam" when the boy did something worthy of note. Bam studied at the feet of this master, knowing no other life than that of orders and being a slave.
The boy grew up with a gift for the magical arts, and the rakshasa even saw to it that the boy had some training among the priesthood; while the rakshasa itself was a master in its arts, it had always had a fascination with the Borsa rites and rituals, and knew that the boy would make a perfect spy to learn the machinations of the priests. And while Bamgara was not fully inducted into the priesthood, he picked up more than a few tricks that he incorporated into his own magical style which he would take to the end of his days.
The boy matured, and was a loyal apprentice to the rakshasa who rewarded his efforts with petty gifts that meant nothing to him, but the world to Bamgara. Finally, he decided on a test for the unwitting boy; on the one hand, if he survived, it would mean that he was worthy of further investment. If he failed, well... that just meant that this was all the boy was worth. He tasked Bamgara to go to the temple of Sidisi, and make an offering. It would be accepted, and the boy, now a man (though always "Boy" to the rakshasa) would prove his worth, or he would be an affront to the priests, comporting himself improperly, and they would give him a swift death for impugning the unholy ground of the temple.
Bamgara dutifully went, but not all was at it had seemed to be. In the midst of the temple, unbeknownst to any who stood within, was one of the Deathclaws of Silumgar, the One Who Crawls, lay in wait, ready to deal a deadly blow to the Sultai citizens by destroying a temple thought to be beyond attack by any of Silumgar's forces. And as Bamgara came to present his offerings, showing the proper obeisance to the priests and following protocol precisley, the Deathclaw revealed itself. The priests and onlookers rushed forward, intent on dealing with the enemy, but the Deathclaw was too strong. Talons raked out, drawing the lifesblood of the priests, spells flew that rent souls from their very bodies. A laugh reverberated through the temple, as the only one left standing was the Deathclaw. Only the few slaves remained, as well as Bamgara, laying on the floor, shuddering in fear as they knew they would die this day.
But instead, the Deathclaw melded its mind to theirs. Such a sickening feeling of dread and nausea none of the slaves could have ever imagined filled their senses. Roiling, undiluted hate and vileness coursed through their thoughts, as the Deathclaw made its intent clear. They would carry word that none of Sidisi's citizens were safe, even here in the heart of their most sacred place. And just as swiftly, the Deathclaw was gone, leaving the slaves to fall into unconsciousness, burdened with nightmares that few mortal minds could withstand.
It was days later that Bamgara woke up, sweating and feverish from the ordeal. He would learn that none of the other slaves had awakened, and none would ever do so from the onslaught upon their minds. At first all he could do was gibber incoherently, but the rakshasa was patient if nothing else, seeing a chance to turn this misfortune into a gain that few of the other rakshasa could boast about. It took days, but finally Bamgara was able to function properly, giving the proper respect to the rakshasa and go about his duties. However, a miasmalay within his mind, unknown to either himself or his master, one that might influence his thoughts and actions. Still the rakshasa was supremely gleeful at the chance to show off his slave; what others could compare to one who had survived a confrontation with a Deathclaw? And so he did, presenting Bamgara almost as a trophy, gaining prestige among the other rakshasa for owning such a specimen.
As a reward for his mettle, the rakshasa gifted the young half-elf with a beast of burden to see him through the coming days, a young ankylosaurus of excellent breeding. The rakshasa thought it would be a mere trifle, and that the boy would soon become weary of keeping the companion, but the two soon became inseparable; in fact, it was the presence of the dinosaur, Mekal as Bamgara named him, that helped the man forge through the nightmares and be able to resume his duties, though he was never quite the same.
Time continued to pass, as it tends to do, and while Bamgara was not quite as he had been, his master decided that he needed an operative in the field, a talon that he might guide. And so, Bamgara was sent to distant lands with specific instructions to work the rakshasa's will on the world, carrying within himself the mental effluvium the Deathclaw had left within him.