Role

Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Lizardskin

"Hey Lizardskin!"

The ground suddenly rushes up to meet Jarson Black. Crying in pain, he looks
up as group of shapeshifter apprentices pass by. The ringleader, a
particularly nasty brute by the name of Gorax places a boot on Jarson's
rising form and shoves him back down again.

"Stay on all fours where you belong, Lizardskin!" Gorax taunts again.

Laughing loudly, the group continues past. Leaving Jarson to gather up his
possessions. Watching the group leave, a familiar feeling fills Jarson. It is
not the pain of being knocked down or being bullied. It is the angst of
loneliness that has tortured him ever since his brother's passing.

Years ago, before Jarson ever considered becoming a shapeshifter, he and his
twin brother Devin had been inseparable. The dynamic duo, they had done
everything together, including getting into all kinds of trouble. It was this
that led to Devin's end. The pair been exploring Galadon's sewers when
Devin slipped into a pool of waste. Helping his brother out, Jarson had been
exposed to his share of filth too, but not covered like his brother.

A wasting disease soon found both twins, it spread across their bodies, a
creeping plague of death and decay. Its cure evaded all healers who saw them,
eventually taking Devin's life. For whatever reason it did not take
Jarson's though, but that wasn't to say it didn't leave its own mark:
covering most of Jarson body was a hideous, scarring, deformation of skin.
Lizard skin the other students called it.

It made Jarson an outcast. The other kids feared him, as if he were
contagious, or openly mocked him. It was the reason he decided to join the
shapeshifters guild, against his father's wishes, who himself was a famed
Invoker. Jarson thought he might one day transform his skin, perhaps find
companionship again.

It was also how Jarson eventually found his escape: the Feanwyyn Weald. He
and Devin used to frequent the woods in their youth, it was risky, daring
adventure. Now Jarson went there to escape the staring eyes of the city.

Safe in the quiet, peace of the woods Jarson finally did find friends. It was
the birds of the Feanwyyn. Unjudging, curious and free, these birds would
approach Jarson and eat from his scarred hands. He would watch them for
hours, flitting from tree to tree, not a care in the world. Jarson envied
them and it would ultimately lead to his major shape focus.