From Introduction:
There is a legend, among the various freebooters and scoundrels looking for adventure in the Clawcrest Mountains, that some terrible hunter wanders the land, attacking all he encounters. Few speak of ever fighting him, but many have seen the aftermath of his depredations — bloody corpses with their chests ripped open, their hearts entirely missing. So many stories exaggerate this killer’s stature, but you know the difference between the truth and fanciful lies. Those who know of what they speak can tell you this thing is like a goblin — small in stature, possessed of snarling teeth and large horns — but heavily armoured. According to one who even fought this monster and survived, it is not even flesh beneath that armour. But then, who can trust the words of one who fled in terror?
The rat goblins could tell you more, if they felt like it. They know all about this stalking killer. They know he was created by the rat goblin sorceress Sseriza in her secret laboratory beneath the mountains, and they know she named him Kitatazuk. She had made him to send against her enemies, and strike fear into the hearts of those who thought to cross her. And they could tell you it worked, or show you the graves of those who were not intimidated.
They could tell you that now he wanders the world looking for a real heart, in the hopes that it can turn him into a real goblin. For he is but a golem made of clay, coated in steel. He can think, but he is not alive, not truly. Why did the sorceress tell him he needed a heart? None can say. Perhaps there is someone who can transmute arcane constructs into flesh-and-blood beings using hearts, but Kitatazuk has not found that person yet.
For years now, he has wandered over the mountains and the plains, murdering people and collecting their hearts, hoping to find the right one. Sometimes, he talks with them, though less so these days. He learned many languages, keeping them in spirit jars in Sseriza’s laboratory. But what use are they to him now? None have been able to help him. Not even the rat goblins know where his creator disappeared to. He had friends among them once. He would join them in battle, or help them on quests. But then he realized they were only using him to find Sseriza’s secret laboratory. Then he had to kill them.
If only he could make a real heart from the anger inside his chest. There is so much of it, whenever he looks upon a blooded creature. But no. Still he must go without.