The ropes groaned with strain as Tythiss put his weight into the handles and began to push the skid cart forward. This day he was assigned to logging, with others of his caste, overseen by a Wing Caste, who was intolerable, to say the least.

Tythiss was different, they all were really, but amongst the tend of his people he was certainly an outlier. Most of the Scale Caste were humans, that happened to have scales this is due to the interbreeding of the Drakari and humans, or dwarves, well the ancestors were promiscuous. Then the Claw Caste, there were soldiers, covered in scales, adorned with claws, and typically more robust than The Scalers. They stood about a head, head and a half taller than most. The Wing Caste is scaled and clawed and some are even shaped like the ancestors. They had huge chests to support their ability to fly. Lastly the Flame Caste. Smaller with thick necks and can breathe fire.

The skid cart gave way finally and began to move across the sodden forest floor. Tythiss was not human-shaped. He was decidedly shaped like a base creature, a reptile monikered as a crocodile. He had a long tooth-filled snout, a powerful tail, and nictitating membranes on his eyes. He was covered in scales, unlike his scale caste brethren. He did not bear claws but stood about twice the height of the tallest Clawling. His form was stout and strong with trunk-like limbs akin to the grand trees of his home.

At some point, likely when he was young, it was decided that he was scale caste, though he did not really fit in with any sort of the established order. He had no idea who his parents were. It was joked about that a desperate Clawling on campaign came across a very lovely and friendly crocodilian. Though never to The Gator’s face. He also had the Drakari temperament, and unlike most had the strength and size to do real harm if he chose.

As he grew, they realized they had made a sound choice by making Tythiss a scaler. It did not take a team to move a skid cart, or beasts of burden to aid the team. The big Croc was a team in one. He could fell the trees, adze the branches off, cut the logs to length, load the logs, and draw the skid cart to the mill. He was a bit slower than a well-trained team but required far fewer logistics to support.

Tythiss’ feet were sinking to about mid-calf while he dragged the cart full of timber back to the mill. His chest heaving as he moved along, the muck sucking at his feet in protest at being disturbed. Typically he was happy with his lot, but year after year of being treated as refuse, when he looked closer to the progenitors than anyone.

It was best to keep those thoughts on the inside.