Damaged Ghouls - Saakt

Saakt, a male desert ghoul showing the extreme injuries this hardy race can survive. He fought his way out of a werewolf’s jaws, and eventually found a mate who had survived even worse injuries from human traps. He is a devoted father with a mellow personality.

Men Who Make Deals with Monsters
Excerpt from the Journal of John Smidley: Collected by T. P. Hade of the Nonhuman Cultural Illumination Project
O-Hambar Oasis, Saaraiah Desert, 8/12/621 AK
It [the oasis] provides respite for not only body but mind as well. Here the tribesmen reveal their penchant for the arts, primitive though their understanding of aesthetics may be. The best artists display their work on tanned hides, and wait to be commissioned to paint their visions on canvases which will be used to erect the walls of tents. Their methods are simplistic, but lovely to behold. A few broad brushstrokes bring to life the flora of an oasis, a woman carrying water from a well, or a lively scene of tribal warfare. I decided to make a purchase of one of the smaller canvases so that Father could evaluate its worth as a novelty item.
While browsing I came upon a rendering that was as hideous as the other scenes were beautiful. It depicted a pair of creatures formed like starved grey-hounds, but possessing a disturb Dinner DateOn his way to meet his beloved Verg trotted by the building where humans cut up dead animals to prepare for their strange custom of cooking. The gentle night breeze wafted alluring scents from the back, while confirming that no humans lingered about. The runoff collecting in muddy pools ensured the slaughterhouse’s placement at the edge of town, where few humans had to live within scenting-distance. For the Ghoul community it was a priceless location for raising a family.
Verg flopped in one of the puddles and rolled on his back, kicking his legs in the air. It felt so good he grinned like a child, tongue lolling out between broken yellow teeth. When the scent was well ground into his tattered clothing he rose, shook himself, and continued on his way.
Taim’s den was an hour’s trot outside of town. Usually she didn’t bother to make the trek, choosing instead to hunt meager game in the semi-wild region. Better to live with hunger than leave your child unguarded in The First Cold Winter is WarmestThe snowflakes were numerous as grains of wind-blown sand. They dimmed the sunset and brought a freezing, premature nightfall. Bundled humans hurried past the lure of shop windows aglow with inviting warmth, toys, and tasty smells. A ribbon-clad tree towered over all from the place of honor cleared for it in the town square.
Hidden amongst rubbish in an alley where he could search for food unseen, Yerv was too miserable to enjoy it. He buried his hands in his coat sleeves and tried to thaw them against his arms. He shivered and watched his breath form clouds in front of his muzzle. The unnatural sight gave him a different kind of chill. Though his kin assured him this was a normal byproduct of harsh northern winters, it still gave him the creeps.
When feeling returned to his fingers he dipped his hand into a pocket and read the imprints left on the coins he had collected. None of their stories were very interesting (all had traded human hands in exchange for work and been lost on the s