What is a Sloqush?   A tortured soul, trapped in the bleeding cage of a writhing beast? A noble memory cast into the abyss of time and pain, only to remerge more splendid than before? An inning feeling lost in its memories of future glory and ancient shame? A song played on instruments of rotting grandeur, resonating within a crude mind formed from mud and glass? The whispers of an aging god, whose kin has become lost to the orchestra of fate, greed and bad luck?   A Sloqush is none of these things, for the Sloqush is not and will never be anything else than what he should never have been in the first place.