Appearance

Physical Description

Tall & Lean

Identifying Characteristics

Feathered features, mostly visible in his hair and side burns. A pair of prong-like horns

Physical quirks

His facial feathers can flare or flatten, depending on his mood. This seems to be entirely autonomous. They also require a fair amount of maintenance, otherwise they tend to stick out at odd angles

Special abilities

In his marked form, his whole body gets covered in white feathers. His horns grow into antlers

Mentality

Personal history

Hello my friend. I welcome you to take a seat beside me. I can see your eyes burn with questions and I am more than happy to answer them. I wish all to know my story. The story of a Tiefling who will one day rise to greatness and prove to all that he is more than just a ghost.
Please do not think me vain, I do not think myself better than anyone else. I have simply always felt this way; that there is more for me, more for my people, than just the scraps that the others leave for us. For pity or otherwise. A fire burns in my soul as hot as the sun and I wish for it to fly free! Wild and beautiful, just like the hearts of all my Tiefling brothers and sisters who have forgotten what they are. I want to remind them all that we are a wonderful people who should not bow meekly, but rise and have pride in ourselves, as we once did and will again one day. This I am as sure of as the ground beneath my feet
We take on the very aspects of the earth around us and yet the other mortal races see this as a curse. I truly believe that our forms are not a curse, but a blessing. If only I could find the truth of the matter. Questions that no one else dare answer. Why? Why are we mistreated? Why are we mistrusted?
But all this will come in time. There is much I still need to learn from this world. Many journeys I will have to undertake to find this truth; to know why we are forgotten and why we are so cruelly barred from society. But I digress, no? I am sure you did not sit here with me to hear a preacher. There are more than enough of those in the temples and I am not one of them.
So, for you to know me, I suppose I should start from the beginning.
 
 
------
 
I was born into this world in the usual way. I think it was in the early time of spring. The flooding waters had given life to new crops and many flowers were already in bloom. I am told that seasons are far different in other parts of the world. That in some places, the very grounds freeze over and the earth is coated in white snow. But that is not so here, in my home. Here, the seasons are always warm and sometimes dry… but more often than not wet. Very wet in fact. And green, so green and beautiful! And it is in this wild and green wilderness that I took my first steps
My parents were very young when they had me. Perhaps too young, but they loved me with all their hearts. It is to them I owe everything, for I have yet to meet a mother and father more doting than they. I am told that before I was born, I was so very restless, always kicking and dancing! And so my mother named me: Taquiri, he who creates much music and dance.
A strange looking child, I was, for I was covered head to toe, in fine white feathers. And upon my brow, two little bumps. This was my mark. My brand. These would be the features that all others would judge me on. It did not matter what I achieved or who I was and It did not matter that I gave so much joy to those around me. And this would be a great source of my mistreatment in my early life. As I grew, my feathers receded, remaining in only a few places. My horns, however, changed into something akin to small antlers. But this wasn’t so unusual amongst my kin, who treated me just as any other normal child
 
-------
 
I lived together with my mother, father and grandfather in a small stone home. Our modest Tiefling village was situated deep in the jungles of Mazdakentru. It was a mish-mash of old stone homes and new wooden huts, which were often built into the trees. This village however, was overshadowed and was built on the outskirts of a much larger city. A huge expanse with many stone tiers. The higher you went, the more privileged you were in society. So naturally ours was the lowest section. Barely a part of this expanse at all.
The name of this city was Cuahtleco. This means ‘to climb trees’, for the very top breached the highest canopies of even the tallest Kapok trees. I am sure the view from the upper temples is something to behold. A wondrous city, and I was once very proud to belong to it. Many merchants would come from all over Mazdakentru to come trade here. Their textiles had every colour you could imagine, in patterns so complex that only the best artisans knew how to create them. To a young boy’s eyes, this was the peak of the world and I wanted to climb it!
At first, I was schooled with my other Tiefling brothers and sisters. Here, they taught us the basics. How to deal with snake bites. How to avoid angering the gods of the ones who were our betters. How to shelter ourselves from weather. Everything a young Tiefling child needed to survive in these wilds. Our lands can be very unforgiving for those who do not know how to tackle it.
It is not that I was ungrateful for these lessons, but my soul grew restless. I wanted more than just to learn how to survive; I wanted to learn how to live! So I would often sneak away from my classes to gaze upon the inner markets of Cuahtleco. To smell the rich spices or to see the intricate art created by other races and cultures. To listen to the musicians plying their craft, baring their souls' work! I was enamored by it all. It was so beautiful to me, but it wasn’t until the festival of the Tiger that the doors to my craft opened before me. The people of Mazdakentru celebrate and venerate the strength of the wild things, for even their twin gods took on the forms of great dragons.
The day began like any other. I was sent to be schooled. I cannot remember exactly what was being taught that day, but I do remember being incredibly bored. So I snuck away at mealtime, careful not to be seen by my teacher, and began to climb the walls of my city. I was still a young boy, so I could fit into many places that others could not. Pass through grates and gaps that would only bear passage to one of my small form.
The city was alive this day. So much noise and many colourful banners had been set out. Petals and coloured papers rained from the sky! I could not believe my luck. I watched as masked dancers filled the streets and as people sang and rejoiced from every corner. It didn’t matter if you were a merchant or a noble, no one cared who their neighbour was. Everyone enjoyed the festivities as if their very hearts beat as one. I wanted this for myself, for my brothers and sisters and all the people of my village. I wanted so badly to belong to this happy moment. Mind abuzz, I ran to tell my parents of this amazing thing that I had just witnessed so they could join in! There was no question in my mind. But instead of smiles, I only saw terror.
My mother, she grew so pale when I told her where I had been. ‘Were you seen?!’ she desperately asked. ‘Taquiri! By my life you must never do this again!’ my father shook me by the shoulders. ‘Have you not been taught anything! You must never take part in these holy festivals!’
I was devastated. I did not understand why we were barred from them. And to this day no one has given me a real reason besides ‘It is forbidden for our kind’ and ‘Strange and bad things happen to those of us that do.’
 
 
------
 
I learnt a hard lesson that day; Tieflings must go through this world as ghosts. We must not make a mark upon this world for a mark has already been left upon us. I promised my family I would stay away from these festivals and this made me very downcast. Yes, I learnt this, but I did not agree with it. A fire had been lit and there was no way of quelling it. I wanted to breathe life to my people just as that festival had breathed life into me. I wanted to bring music and joy to those around me, to sing and dance! So, after a few days of feeling sorry for myself, I set about to craft my very own instrument. I hoped that this could be a way of escaping my assigned role in society, so that people would judge me on my skills and not how I looked.
My favourite sounds came from string instruments, so I copied the shapes as best I could and gathered materials where I could find them. It took me six months to craft my own as the strings were a hard material to come by. After much effort, I finally completed something that looked vaguely like a violin. But alas, my enthusiasm did not match my skill. In fact, my finished product was terrible; the sound it emitted was more akin to a dying animal than the beautiful melodies I wished to emulate. Not to mention it put many splinters in my cheeks, for I had no varnish to coat it. But still I tried to learn the nuances of music, much to the chagrin of every neighbour within a mile.
Despite this, I was still unsatisfied. Being barred from taking part in Cuahtleco cultures left a gap in my heart. I wanted to know more of the outside world, beyond the borders of Mazdakentru. I wanted to know what it is that gave them life. Their cultures, their history. Especially their music. For music is the language of the soul and it is this that every person could enjoy, no matter what creed. And more than this, I wanted to know the mysteries that surrounded our exile. My parents, witnessing my determination (and perhaps my restlessness), were determined that they could do more for me. After all, they wanted what was best for their only son.
My father took a second job; in the day he would work as a handyman of sorts. Crafting houses. Fixing structures and the like. By night he would serve at the tavern. I saw him less and less in my young teenage years and when I did, he was too tired to talk with me. I wanted very much to lift his spirits, but I did not have the means to, so I settled for small gestures; I would make him tea in the evenings, or make sure he never forgot his tools in the mornings. My mother also took a job as a teacher, because she knew how to read and so shared this gift with all who couldn’t. My grandfather took care of family affairs and of me when my mother and father could not. I was very lucky to have them, for all three cared for me very much.
I was eleven when my mother and father gave me the good news. They had saved up enough money and my grandfather had pulled enough strings, to send me away to be schooled. I had not known this, but my grandfather knew a few scholars in his youth, although he never went into much detail of how he got to know them. Perhaps it was a sore subject, but every time I asked he would wave his hand and say ‘It’s a boring story, Taquiri. Concern yourself with the present and not something that happened a lifetime ago.’ Something told me there was more to it than that, but he would not budge on the matter, despite my insistence and inexhaustible curiosity.
So, it was in the season of Autumn that I was sent away from my family for the first time. I will readily admit, I missed them terribly. But I was very aware that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. I knew no other child from my village to have this privilege. So I did not shed any tears when I said my goodbyes. ‘I will make you proud, my family! I will not disappoint you. This I promise’, I told them.
As a parting gift, my grandfather gave me my first real instrument. A beautiful rosewood violin. I could’ve wept with joy at the sight of it, for it truly was, and still is, a thing of beauty. I finally had the tool I had craved for so many years. I should have asked him how he came to possess such a wonder, but I could not find the words at the time. And so with fond farewells, I hopped onto the carriage that would bear me to Mazdakentru’s Technical Institute, which rested upon the country’s shores.
 
 
------
 
There were many paths one could take to become a successful and valuable member of society and the college benefitted from being a multinational institute. This meant that many cultures could weave the minds of the young here, no doubt in hopes that it could build relations between nations.
Most days spent at the college were filled with lessons: Reading, writing, history, geography, science. Everything one needs to be civilized and well read. The array of subjects available was far vaster than I could ever have anticipated and I had to put my mind to all of these subjects. As well as this, there were many extracurricular activities available. Swordplay and weapons training was one that I took a particular interest in. I would take in all that I could from this school, for I did not know if I would ever get this opportunity again. An opportunity given to me by the hard work of my family. A gift I would not squander.
I had already taken up the art of dance in my spare time and I found that this leant itself well to the fight. For combat was a dance of its own and I could bend in ways that not many others could follow. It helps to be a nimble Tiefling! And I was not ignorant to the fact that this world would hold many dangers, so knowing how to defend oneself would no doubt be a useful skill to have.
Some of my other fellow peers did not see the grace in my hard work, however. They found fault in everything I did and mocked me terribly. There were not many others of my kind in this school so they took advantage of this weakness. I was a minority, after all. An invader, even. They would cry ‘Cuānaca! Caxtotolli!’, whenever I passed by. In your language, the closest would be ‘Chicken! Cockerel!’. I suppose this is because of the feathers that grow from my head.
It hurt to hear this of course. They were my betters, supposedly, and made sure I was aware of this. But I knew this hatred was born from the dogma they were taught. From weakness and not strength. I tried to be patient and remember this as I did not want to cause trouble here. But unfortunately, like a lot of weak creatures, they tended to band together. It wasn’t long before all the children taunted and jeered. Asking questions like ‘What are you like down there? Are you also like a bird?’ and all other manner of crude things I do not wish to go into. I put up with this for many years, reminding myself that each day I spent here was a gift. It was simply something that I had to endure. A test upon many other tests in which my life would be built upon. It would be many years before I would finally lose my patience. But prior to this event, I was to receive some good news.
 
 
------
 
During the fourteenth year of my life, my mother had written to me. She informed me that I was to be a brother! The news came as a shock, as I had no idea my parents ever thought of having another child. The idea of being a mentor to a young sibling filled me with much joy and so I hurriedly wrote back to congratulate them both and that I would visit them at harvest-time, like every year. Schools often had breaks during these months as it was assumed that many children would go help their families with stocking up. Help was greatly needed during these times, in preparation for the winter months when food is more scarce. Places of learning tended to be more multinational, so it was at least one thing they all agreed on, cross-country.
And so, little Chaska was born into this world in the winter-period. I promised her that I would care for her just like my parents cared for me when I needed them most. She should know all nothing but love and affection in her young years, for the world was a cruel place and childhood should be filled with happy memories. A safe place to return to in times of need, for this I believe is what molds us in our adult life.
 
 
------
 
It was my fifteenth year when life at my college would forever be altered. I had spent some of my lunchtime hour removing the straw from my head, which my classmates had kindly bestowed upon me. Once finished, I decided to find a quiet area along the tall college esplanades to practice my music. The ocean winds acted as a barrier against sound, so it would at least deter some of my thoughtful pursuers. Or at least, so I thought. A group of my most diligent fans had rounded the corner and decided to practice their usual bouts of heckling. I suppose they wanted me to be well prepared for life and all its disappointments. After all, the college was a sheltered place of learning and it would not be a good example of what to expect outside of it. But in honesty, I was not in the mood for it on this day. There were plenty of other quiet places besides this one, so I made an attempt to leave.
This was a mistake, apparently, as one of the larger boys thought this an act of encouragement and attempted to bar my path. When I kindly asked him to step aside, he took this as a compliment to his cleverness and pressed me further. I do not remember exactly what he said. Perhaps a comment against my strange form, as was usual, but this part is not important. It was the moment after this I finally broke.
In his attempt to raise my ire, he knocked my violin, my grandfather’s gift, from my hand. This was an insult I could not stand down from. It was the most precious possession I owned, created from love and kindness. Impulse took over me and in an instant, my countenance changed. My feathers covered my body. My horns had become antlers. Before this day, I would’ve never guessed I possessed such a power. But upon revealing my mark, it felt as natural to me as breathing.
All the bile, all the poison that I had endured through these years. The unwarranted prejudice that spewed from the mouths of these ignorant children surfaced in my mind. I wanted to repay them for this, to give them an inkling of what it feels like to reach out and always find a closed door, or worse. So I sang my song of poison and anger**. The words took on a strange power of their own. I am unsure how else to describe it. In the next moment, my victim had fallen to the floor. He clutched his head in pain. Had my words been that effective? It was baffling and concerning all at once.
The rest of his party fled, but someone new had rounded the corner. Apparently one of the tutors had seen this and had now rallied some of their other peers to deal with the situation. I was ushered away, but not before I managed to hastily pick up my cherished instrument. Luckily, it had sustained minimal damage. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some well-placed varnish.
 
 
------
 
** Vicious Mockery, cantrip
I was led northwestwards, through a wide path which was shaded by tall jungle trees. Eventually, we reached a clearing, in its centre, an open aired rotunda. It had a glass ceiling and short stone stairs on four of its sides. The grounds here were surrounded by untamed wilderness. It seemed to be a lesser used corner of the college. The exterior was overgrown with Kudzu, which had taken over all the surrounding trees. It would’ve been pleasant; the flora had given the place a permanent shelter from the sun. However, my mind was racing with the possible consequences of my actions. I suspected my time at the college would come to a swift end. Doubtful they would tolerate such insubordination from someone like me
I was told to sit on one of the benches which surrounded this central area. It looked like a small arena, of sorts. I had thought they would have brought me to the headmaster’s office, so you could only imagine my confusion when they brought me to this place. Time always seems to slow when experiencing fear, so I could only guess how long I waited there. Hours could have been mere minutes and the quiet ambience of this sheltered courtyard only elevated my anxieties.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, an elderly man emerged from the left-hand side wall of the trees. I hadn’t even realized! The trees on this side were in fact another building. So overgrown and so perfectly disguised! Or perhaps it was an illusion after all, for now it seemed perfectly obvious to me. My wonderment was curtailed by thoughts of my impending punishment, however.
This man now stood before me. He wore a well-tailored, hooded robe which was dark blue in colour. He held himself with pride, despite his age. His curled grey hair was closely cropped and one black streak along the chin of his beard was the only indication of any colour he once had there. A dark skinned man, with a tattoo of a blue eye in the centre of his forehead. He fixed his grey eyes upon me and I couldn’t help but respect him. Something in his demeanor told me that this man had seen much of the world and had endured many of its trials.
‘Been picking fights have you?’ His voice was smooth and heavily accented.
‘Just defending what was mine, sir.’ I said as politely as I could, for was that not the truth? Something had clearly amused him, as he started to laugh. A deep and hearty chuckle.
‘So, you Aaron’s grandchild?’ he finally asked
I knew this to be my grandfather’s name, so I asked him how he came to be acquainted
‘Never answer a question with a question, boy. At least not in my presence. It’s the quickest way to put me in a bad mood.’ I remember him retorting.
Dakarai Adebisi was his name. And he had come here to retire, he later told me. Apparently, he once knew my grandfather when they were much younger, for they had adventured together and became friends. Fortune smiled on me at last, for he was a well-respected master of the arcane at this college. He had dealings with the college of Archaeologists and was well renowned for his intelligence and wisdom. It became clear to me that this was a big reason why I was permitted to be schooled here.
‘I owed him a life-debt’ he told me ‘pulled me out of the mouth of a basilisk. And this he asked in return, after so many years. So, I spoke a few words on your behalf and here you are. Picking fights with boys twice your size!’ He seemed more amused than angry
He told me that I was not to be expelled. In fact, he had been keeping an eye on my progress. When I explained what had happened along the esplanade, he knew exactly what I had conjured
‘It seems you have some arcane talents and this is why I have called you here. Besides causing trouble, of course’ he said.
I could not believe my ears. I was so certain that I had squandered what little graces I had left. And yet I was not only given a second chance, but an opportunity!
He told me how this area was once a fully functional part of the college. That they once trained many pupils in the art of magic and the arcane, but it eventually fell into disuse when all the tutors were called to war on our northern borders. It was never reclaimed, so the jungle claimed it in our stead.
He led me away from this courtyard and into the place he had emerged from. A long stone corridor led to a set of large, intricately patterned bronze doors, which had gone green with age. The craftsmanship was truly beautiful, but this paled in comparison to what I saw next.
The doors opened into a perfectly stocked library, covered head to toe in all manner of historical items. Every wall was covered by shelves of books, artefacts and fossils. Alembics of various sizes covered tables, as well as a number of other instruments I did not recognize. The center of this room was taken up by a round study area, the furniture resting on a large weathered rug. Either side of this hall had a stairwell which spiraled up and met in the centre, which looked like it led into the master living quarters. On the far side of this library, more doors that led to other areas of the building. Its western wall was heavily windowed and had glass doors that led to a disused courtyard that may have once housed a great fountain, had the vines not invaded it. And all of this was decorated in well-polished dark woods. Someone had clearly lovingly restored the interior, for it was a stark contrast between this and the exterior grounds.
Master Adebisi explained that while the college no longer boasted the vast number of arcane students it once did; he did still take in the odd student on occasion. He was also helped by another, who had insisted upon taking on the project of restoration. Something about his tone indicated a dislike of this character, although I would not be meeting him this day. I had so many questions. A thousand or more at least! But my mentor-to-be decided that this was enough for one day and that he had his own work to get on with:
‘Don’t confuse retired with idle, boy!’ he chided when I had made the assumption that he spent his days lounging in the sun. His tone bearing ire, but to me he seemed more whimsical than threatening.
And so he showed me, instead, to my new living quarters, which were found in the basement. The stairs spiraled down from the main hallway, as if entering an old crypt, but I was at least reassured at the bottom: a round, modest sized common room, which had six doors around its circumference. The room was well-lit by arcane fires. No doubt it would have been completely dark without them, for there was only one window, which was very narrow and peeked out onto the grounds above. The vines outside already laying claim to it.
He informed me there was only one free room, so I should go claim it before he changed his mind and sent me back to the ‘spoilt masses with more gold than sense’. So, I spent the rest of the afternoon moving my things
 
 
------
 
If I thought I had a lot to learn before, I was poorly prepared for this next stage of my life. For now, as well as my normal schooling, I had become an apprentice: during the day I had my usual lessons, and the evenings were spent with my mentor. He was even a bit of a music buff himself, so we would sometimes practice together. He would play on his Chalumeau, a small woodwind instrument, and I would join in on my violin. These were my favourite moments during my school-life. I had plenty of activities to sharpen the mind, but music was what really brought me life. I would like to think it brought my teacher much happiness also, as he didn’t get many opportunities to have someone to share his hobby with. To me, he almost seemed younger when we had our musical duels
‘You have the heart of a bard’ I remember him once telling me. ‘Not just some run of the mill minstrel either, you can’t throw a stone in a tavern without hitting at least two. You have talent, boy, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise’
This compliment brought me much solace, for this was the first moment that someone had given me encouragement on my path, besides my family. I had no intentions of giving up, but my spirits soared that day. I wanted this for all the lost Tieflings who had been told ‘no’ from the day they were born. I wanted to give them a voice and to be proud of what they are. But I wasn’t going to lift up a nation as I was. I would need to become stronger. I needed the knowledge of the world to change it, for I had already started life with one hand tied behind my back. I would have to work twice as hard as anyone else to overcome it. So I did not complain when I had a hard time, nor when I would fall asleep on my study books or when my fingers became calloused from practice. I had to take everything this place would give me.
 
 
------
 
The attitude around the college changed after that ‘incident’. It seemed news of my little altercation with my tormentors had spread and now all the students spoke of the strange feathered boy who could do magic with his voice. The most bitter of the students still sneered as I walked by them, but I had gained a little modicum of respect as they now took a wider berth around me. Some students would even gather to hear me practice my music. My first fans!
As nice as this was, life would soon throw another test at me. It was a few weeks after my apprenticeship began that Laurence Broussard arrived. He was the one that worked alongside Adebisi in the arcane library. Apparently he had been to Casteaux on some business trip. The exact details were never disclosed to me.
During one of my free days, the other arcane students and I were practicing some of our safer spells in the library when he walked into the building. A tall, well-groomed man. His black hair was trimmed into an undercut and his face was clean shaven. He wore a white shirt under his black, sleeveless doublet, which was decorated with gold filigree. Despite the warm weather, he accompanied this with dark trousers and ebony leather brogues. It was evident this man cared more about image than practicality. Of course, there is nothing wrong with preening: People should be free to spend as much or as little time on their image as they wish, but the general demeanor of superiority that accompanied this ensemble did not endear itself to me in the slightest.
He took one single look at me and furrowed his brow with displeasure. The man had not a hint of warmth to him. My intuition told me not to trust him, for he looked as though he carried the eyes of a snake. Once he had surveyed the room, he made his way upstairs to where master Adebisi worked on his research. He didn’t emerge for several hours and when he finally did, he did not even grace us with a nod. I did not like the events that were unfolding, for I suspected this man would be far more involved in my day-to-day going forward.
My suspicions were confirmed when my mentor pulled me aside later.
‘Mister Broussard, who seems to have failed to introduce himself, will be resuming his duties with us tomorrow. He will be teaching you in the ways of language and etiquette. Be polite, for he holds great sway with the rich. I do not like it much, but alas, I do not run the college. It is not up to me.’
I was surprised my mentor was so candid with me in this regard. But I suppose he only wanted to drive this point home; He was not the only Master whose opinions held sway within the walls of my most venerable institution - and that I should keep my head down lest I run into the limits of his protection. So I did my best not to spark any ire
 
 
------
 
Broussard’s lessons, which were conducted in one of the classrooms in the library complex, were terribly boring. It’s not that language did not interest me; after all, how would I travel the world only knowing my home tongue? It was that he had a terrible lack of talent for teaching. His voice carried all the urgency of a sloth. There was no flavour to what he did. No flair! And coupled with my lack of sleep, it wasn’t long before my eyelids became too heavy to bear.
Whack! His pointer came down onto my desk. I was very much awake now. Standing just next to me, he glared angrily from his half-moon glasses. My first offence.
‘Boring you am I?’ he asked in a tone that denoted how very tiresome I was to him. All eyes were on me. This was not the kind of crowd I wanted to gather, so I met his gaze and shook my head. This of course was a lie, but I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth. The problem was, I had already caused my second offence, without even realizing it. He was used to children who obeyed, children who bowed their heads when he towered over them, especially when they bore ‘The Mark’. He was a man of stature after all, of noble blood, so he was owed respect by birthright. But I did not. I had stared into this predator’s eyes and he was not going to take it lightly.
‘You will stay behind after class and read the first seven chapters of ‘Casteaux Customs’
‘But I have lessons with...’
‘You dare answer back, you insolent little vermin?’ he hissed through clenched teeth. The asp had reared itself to its full height. My third offence. This was not going well. I had chosen my actions poorly, but I was fast enough at learning. I hated myself for it, but I backed down and broke my gaze. I looked at my hands and said no more. After all, I wanted to stay here, in this college, and feared retribution if I acted out now. My mentor had warned me to keep my head down and I had realized too late that he meant literally as well as figuratively. And so, I stayed behind. I was going to miss my other lessons and would have to catch up. At this point, I had at least befriended some of my arcane classmates, so my fellow pupil, a girl with fire-red hair, had quietly promised to me that I could copy her notes afterwards.
I was about halfway through chapter five of ‘Casteaux Customs’, a riveting book that started off with established etiquette among the various castes of society. How appropriate for him to choose this book in particular, I thought to myself. My tutor was quietly scratching away at his writing desk, which faced towards the classroom. It was at this point he spoke to me for the first time in thirty minutes.
‘My quill is looking awfully tired’ He did not look up from his papers
‘I could fetch you another, sir?’ Perhaps I could try and repair some of the damage, I thought.
‘Yes, I do believe you could help with this matter.’ He wore a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. He bade me approach his desk, so I did what was told. He studied me after getting up from his chair, like a cat toying with its prey. Then, with a quick motion, he pulled out one of my feathers from the side of my head.
‘Ow!’ This had caught me off-guard, I winced and immediately pulled away, meeting his gaze again and forgetting my etiquette.
‘Yes, this will do, I suppose.’ He sneered while inspecting the feather. ‘Perhaps you do have some uses after all. Of course, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t let any of your kind here at all. But we must all make do with bad situations, yes?’ Once again, I had to remind myself of my delicate situation. I wanted to be defiant. I wanted to put this vile man in his place. But my mentor’s words came back to me. ‘keep your head down.’ And so I did
Shortly after that he told me to leave, telling me that he was tired of looking at me. Which was convenient, because I was also tired of looking at him. And so, we parted in mutual agreement.
 
 
------
 
That wasn’t the last time I would have to endure his idea of “correction”. Broussard would find any excuse to torment me. He would remind me of my so-called disabilities and that I should be grateful that he didn’t make me stand in the hall during classes. I think this was a tactic to make me look foolish among my peers. Unfortunately for him, he was so disliked among us that if anything, it only rallied them to my cause. This he rewarded me with further replenishing his stock of quills.
I had never loathed anyone before that point. But if I could describe hatred, he would be on the forefront of my mind. A foul and self-entitled tyrant who didn’t even deserve the air he breathed. I wonder how many others like me he had tortured and made to feel small. To grind them into the dirt like they were little more than rats. Unlike my schoolyard bullies, I was unable to retaliate. His position meant that he could expel me if he had probable cause. But I at least had my defiance, my Tiefling pride. So I took in his poison and held my head high.
But not everyone was blessed with such motivation. Once again that spark rose into a flame. I had to endure for the sake of my future. For the sake of my family and everyone else who suffered from these kinds of people. I wouldn’t let him defeat me.
One silver lining to all of it was that he did allow me to attend his lessons. Which meant I did learn a thing or two, despite his droning, thus adding several languages to my repertoire. It was no doubt my mentor's influence, and I thanked him mentally for it. There would be plenty more like Broussard in the world and I hoped to one-day rise above them. But for now, I sat quietly.
I would often confide in my red-haired friend, Imogen Walsh, of all this unfairness. A pretty girl, with round green eyes and a freckled face. She was fiercely intelligent, the kind who wouldn’t back down from any discussion without a fight. Obstinate and stubborn even. She had come from Diewolsca; her family had moved here in search of excitement. But she was far from home and missed it terribly, so in a way, she was as much a stranger here as I was; me being as unwelcome as I was. We bonded over this and became good friends. I enjoyed her company very much, so I’d often ask her opinion on any new music or songs I had crafted. I admit that perhaps I hoped our platonic relationship would evolve into something more... but I do not think she ever saw me that way. I didn’t hold that against her. I was, after-all, a bit odd looking. Especially with my feathers, which had started to grow back crooked as if in defiance of their rude treatment. I was content enough that I had made a friend my own age.
 
 
------
 
And so my studies continued in this fashion for many more years. I was 18 when my time at the college proper ended. I graduated alongside my friend, Imogen, who now spoke about returning to Diewolsca. She wanted to continue her Arcane tutelage there.
‘The arcane schools there are like no other in the world!’ I remember her proclaiming. This saddened me, for I knew that mine was a different path. I wasn’t sure when we’d get the opportunity to meet again and I always had difficulty with goodbyes. She reassured me, however, that she would write to me whenever she could and that we would keep in touch as pen-pals.
Master Adebisi told me that I could continue to come by his library. He felt he had more to teach me and so I would continue to study with him for a few more years. I was at least no longer in danger of being expelled, so I did not have to suffer under Broussard’s tutelage. When he would holiday in Zantensa, a desert land far to the west, I would return home to my family in Cuahtleco. I would help my mother care for little Chaska and tell her of my experiences at the college. I even began to teach the young ones of the village the musical arts.
But something was different since my return home. The various houses that were dotted about the Tiefling village were more like cold ruins than warm abodes. Cuahtleco, which was once my whole world, looked so small to me. The vast steps and markets that were housed inside the city no longer held that same wonder. And within permeated the same arrogance, the same dogmatic opinions that I found at my college. Nothing had changed here, but I had. And that same desire slowly crept in again. To make things better and to inspire! But of all the teachings I had received, I was still only scratching the surface. I needed to see this world and all its corners. I needed to make a name for myself and not just that, I needed to unravel the mysteries of my people. To raise them up from what they are, so that Chaska and all the children like her, can grow up in a world without hatred towards her, or pity
I would not climb this city to its highest peaks. Not as I am now. So, if no one else will dare change it, then I will dare for them. I will speak for them if their voices are too quiet. I will show my mark to this world like no one else! And they will have to recognise me, to acknowledge me for who I am. We can be as great as anyone else that lives and I aim to prove it.

Personality

Motivation

More than anything, he wishes to change how people view Tieflings. He also has a strong desire to make life for his family better

Savvies & Ineptitudes

Savvies: He's generally quite empathetic and can read people quite well.
 
Ineptitudes: He's not that good a swimmer. He also has a terrible poker face

Likes & Dislikes

Likes: He loves anything to do with expressing oneself: Music. Artwork. Literature. He's also very fond of sweet things (desserts etc)
 
Dislikes: Thieves and those who take advantage of others. Anything that robs one of their freedoms or possessions. He also dislikes bitter food

Vices & Personality flaws

Though not intentional, his outgoing nature can be mistaken for bravado. He also tends to be overconfident when it comes to any form of action or outcome

Personality Quirks

He has a habit of calling everyone 'friend', regardless of their status

Hygiene

He's a socialite, so cleanliness is important for him

Social

Birthplace

Cuahtleco, Mazdakentru

Current Residence

Nomad

Contacts & Relations

Aaron Willenstark: Grandfather
Asterid Willenstark: Mother
Hadwin Ivae'ess: Father
Chaska Ivae'ess: Younger sister
 
Dakarai Adebisi: Taquiri's mysterious mentor from Zantensa
Imogen Walsh: Taquiri's childhood friend (wizard)
Laurence Broussard: Taquiri's vindictive tutor from Casteaux. He taught language & etiquette