Role

Chapter 1

What would a mother do, to see her child live, and not die so soon after birth?
What lengths would they go through, to stop their child from dying to a skin
disease that left his blood oozing from his body through the pores. Tahka was
tiny for a svirfnebli, sickly and dying from his skins wasting disease, all only
because he was born that way. The father was out of the picture, blaming himself
for his only childs' afflictions and cutting his own wrists open. The mother,
she was just desperate for her child to no longer suffer. Healers could not heal
the affliction it was a natural occurance, not as that called upon by a shaman
and could not be cured by normal means, but an odd solution was found by a rare
kind within within his and his mothers svirfnebli kin, an arcane as a thought,
casted petrify flesh upon him, even as a baby and solidified his outer body,
leaving him struggling to move and jerky, but no longer bleeding out of his own
skin. His mother, completely ungifted in the arts of magic learned with time to
do the same, but daily, four times a day he underwent magical treatments to
repair his flesh, and petrify his flesh, as well as bone and muscle reparation as
the disease had taken a toll on his bodies function. After a year in svirfnebli
time, his mother was able to take over his treatments, adding in desensification
so he would feel less discomfort in his own flesh, and these treatments would
continue by himself, even to this day.

There has been side affects of his affliction, aside his exreme frailness and tiny
size, the excess mana that has gone through his system constantly has caused the
very nature of his hair to stand on end as if reaching for the sky, or trying itself
to float away through the river touching life that is pure mana, waiting to be tapped
into again.

But he was the child that lived. The adults in his small community knew of his time
as a baby and accepted him, but that acceptance did not always carry over to their
children, and while they were not cruel, he was an oddity that physically just kept
being strange. Mentally growing up from this, tahka was always serious. Always very
respectful to his superiors, and trying to express himself in a well spoken manner (
and asks forgiveness in advance for fumbling with his words sometimes, or feeling an
impulsive need to explain if he cannot think of the proper words at the time), and
all because he was grateful for the life he had, his treatments were a constant
reminder not to take his life for granted.