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[Sl4cker]

The time is two in the morning.

Awkward footsteps thud on dirty cobblestones, and in the quiet they sound as loud as a gunshot.

For one infant, head already curling with beautiful silver hair, they are a noise just as lethal.

In a basket the baby is dropped on the steps to Saint Thatcher's Asylum of Love.

There is a note in the basket, with the baby. What is written on it?

[] "Bakkla"
[] "Yasuo"
[] "Mendel"
[] "Gwynrii"
[] A name unlike any other... (Write-in)

[hops]

Bakkla

[Sl4cker]

The note in the basket carried a word; "Bakkla", one that held no meaning to the stern matron that picked it up as the sun was beginning to rise.

So, it became the babe's name.

Such a cliche story, one told a million times over. A special child, abandoned by it's parents on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage.

The stewardess considered throwing it into a river.

But as the babe was, of course, taken in, and became an awkward, toddling thing, then suddenly into an awkward, lonesome, meandering thing, wandering off into hallways and staring forlornly at the other children, always in their own groups.

For some reason, they always left the child alone, except for when to steal carelessly left snacks or the odd toy they managed to snatch.

And thus the child felt lonesome. No parents, no friends, and, like all the other children, assigned to work as hard as they could for one so young.

[ ] They were sad, and felt like withdrawing further into lonesomeness. They began doing whatever favors or tasks the adults threw at them - delivering messages, begging for coins, even theft; all to seek affection.
[ ] They were insulted, and as a child was wont to do, threw a tantrum. They began picking on other kids, bullying them into becoming their friend through their surprising skill with intimidation - and manipulation.
[ ] They were completely uncaring. What did the other children have to do with them? They had their own groups, the child had theirs. It was like they were from different worlds entirely, despite the two sides' closeness - and that was fine. That was fine. It gave one time to read.
[ ] They were something else... (Write-in)

[crazyabe]

[X] They were completely uncaring. What did the other children have to do with them? They had their own groups, the child had theirs. It was like they were from different worlds entirely, despite the two sides' closeness - and that was fine. That was fine. It gave one time to read.

[hops]

[X] They were sad, and felt like withdrawing further into lonesomeness. They began doing whatever favors or tasks the adults threw at them - delivering messages, begging for coins, even theft; all to seek affection.

[spümpkin]

[X] They were sad, and felt like withdrawing further into lonesomeness. They began doing whatever favors or tasks the adults threw at them - delivering messages, begging for coins, even theft; all to seek affection.

+1

[Sl4cker]

And so, Bakkla fell into this abyss of depression as he grew from a sad, curious child into a sad, scared teen.

Letters flew in and out of his hands every day, their importance he did not understand, though perhaps he couldn't. His feet grew blisters from how much he had to run around town.

He sat on the street corner with a roughly sewn, patchwork cap, hoping beyond hope that today he would meet his quota, and not suffer a savage beating by the matron. He made sure to avoid the cops by sneaking and hiding in any space he could, and his previously earned skill in running proved useful to evade them.

And, at the behest of his caretakers, he made to steal.

He never took from those who were wealthy - he would never get a chance to, ragged as he was. But from the pockets of other orphanage's children, from the pouches of old, abused labourers, from the satchels of the odd traveler here and there, came coins that fell into the silver-haired child's possession.

He was never caught... except, by a dark-skinned youth, no older than himself, hair long and flowing and clad in rags, just like him. He smiled, and told the boy he was another orphan from the other side of the city. He came here now because he wanted to explore, just like the heroes in his books.

Bakkla told the strange boy his name. The other orphan smiled and said, "My name is..."

[ ] "... Gwynrii."
[ ] "... Cirrus."
[ ] "... Noervos."
[ ] "... A little strange, but..." (Write-in)

And that was how it was.In another incident, Bakkla found himself seated at a show.

Some of the older children were giddy with excitement, for they knew what the show would bring. The young ones, meanwhile, didn't know what to make of it, Bakkla included.

The performer for tonight was clad in garish clothing, flowing and translucent, giving the impression he was a sort of humanoid jellyfish. He gave a big smile, hoping to ease the kids.

He had come from afar in order to bring mirth into a city with so very little with it - performers like him usually avoided such a bleak and unhappy place.

He began the show, and almost instantly, Bakkla forgave his strange appearance.

What wonders he brought! Such joy from his trickery!

At once, Bakkla recognized the man for what he was, and the boy admired him for it.

[ ] The performer was an illusionist. His wand took the form of a blackjack, and from it images that defied logic or explanation were conjured and floated around like a world of wonders. Just from a flick of the wrist could come mesmerizing images that were, well, like magic.
[ ] The performer was a fortune teller. But not an ordinary bringer of fate, no - his deck of cards that held the images of tarot were powerful, and that was completely certain when he threw one down and a great burning Chariot appeared like magic. It could fly, too.
[ ] The performer was a puppeteer. In front of everyone, his skilled hands crafted a wooden facsimile of his willing volunteer. He could make them dance, he could make them run around and tell jokes, he could even fling them far into the sky and float them down gently, like magic. 

[FallacyofUrist]

[X] "... A little strange, but... John. Nice to meet you."

[X] The performer was an illusionist. His wand took the form of a blackjack, and from it images that defied logic or explanation were conjured and floated around like a world of wonders. Just from a flick of the wrist could come mesmerizing images that were, well, like magic.

[crazyabe]

[X] "... A little strange, but... John. Nice to meet you."

[X] The performer was an illusionist. His wand took the form of a blackjack, and from it images that defied logic or explanation were conjured and floated around like a world of wonders. Just from a flick of the wrist could come mesmerizing images that were, well, like magic.

+1

[ATHATH]

[X] "... A little strange, but... John. Nice to meet you."

[X] The performer was an illusionist. His wand took the form of a blackjack, and from it images that defied logic or explanation were conjured and floated around like a world of wonders. Just from a flick of the wrist could come mesmerizing images that were, well, like magic.

+1

+1

[Sl4cker]

And thus, after a surprising meeting with his new friend, Bakkla (And dark-skinned John) pranced their way into young adulthood.

The two youths had many adventures through their city, mischievous and at times morally questionable, but still did they find eachother good company. They fought in play-fights, they pranced about acting like noble warriors and wicked wizards, they saw who could steal more things from people in their respective sides of the city. (Bakkla always won)

In the meanwhile, Bakkla pursued his newfound interest in illusionism. The performer disappeared almost as suddenly as he came, and some for the first few weeks he was stuck waving a dirty stick around like a lunatic where he thought none could see him. John found for him a book on the other end of the city, and, though disappointed him by revealing the blackjack was required, took great pleasure in seeing his friend grinning like an idiot at the colorful pictures.

John, Bakkla found, was taking a profound interest in adventuring. "I'd like to become a spellsword," he had said, staring over the city wall, "so that I'd be able to get the best of both worlds, you know? Think we could climb over?" His feisty smirk didn't seem to waver in the slightest when he was reminded they'd probably be shot if they tried.

At times, the smaller of the two confided to John that they wished to always be together.

But, as that conflicting set of circumstance was wont to do, adulthood seemed like it was bound for separating the pair forever. And that was a fear that set the silver-haired teen into a tizzy of uncomfortable feelings. Once you were eighteen, you were kicked out of the orphanage and made to strike out on your own, in or out of the grim city.

And when that night struck, the two found themselves together at the nearby pub.

"I just... don't know what to do, really," Bakkla admitted, hair frizzled from the night of drinking. "I mean, what are my talents good for? Do I become a professional thief? Maybe I could come with you on your voyage and act as a pack mule."

The other young man, by comparison, was barely functioning. He picked himself up from the bar, mug of ale in danger of slipping from those rough fingers of his. "You should... you should follow your dreams, like I'm doin'," he said, "you always liked those illusionist boys, right?" He slapped Bakkla's shoulder a little too hard, pulling the other youth in with a cheeky smile. "Go on. Apply to become an apprentice, or whatever."

Bakkla gulps. "Alright," he says, standing up, hoping there's a performer somewhere around town.
Your name is Bakkla. You have a rather submissive disposition, but on the flipside, you are responsible and not easily tempted. You also have a penchant for thievery, and some knowledge of how to utilize illusions, though you've never put it into practice. Additionally, you have a slight feeling you may not be human. I mean, silver hair?

You make yourself stand up, despite the pounding headache seemingly intent on making your skull cave in. You recognize yourself on one of the roads to Dustton, your city (your OLD city, you remind yourself - technically, you're homeless). You try to remember what happened last night as you pick up your things, thanking God no one seemed to have stolen from you.

You realize you have a pamphlet from the International Institution of Illusions and Imagination, or "four Is". As you continue to read it, your face seemingly blanches as white as your hair. You've been accepted as a possible member of the Institution, and have been assigned a tutor, which you're supposed to meet... today. And there's going to be a test of your aptitude in six months.

But, as you've said before, you've never conjured an illusion in your life!

You shiver with embarassment. What do you do? Perhaps you could meet your tutor and tell them there's been a big misunderstanding. Etiher way, you need to pick a direction to go in to meet them. It says that you're supposed to meet them in...

[ ] Atania, to the north. A friendly town, hidden in the mountains and usually welcoming to travellers. Many of the people there are beastfolk, and rumor has it the mayor is actually a dragon.
[ ] Paiderum, to the west. A rather strange city, allowing travelers as long as they don't break any of the city's strict rules. Many of the people there are, well, humans. Would they really accept such a suspicious character as you?
[ ] Mapahaki, to the east. It exists in a sweltering desert, dry and unforgiving. The town itself, though, seems like a paradise in comparison - flowing water, the sound of song and mirth heard all through the night, the works. Rumors of something dark and ominous lying underneath the surface, however, float by. Many of the people there are elven.
[ ] Nandor, to the southwest. You gulp. Whereas Mapahaki only has rumors of villainy, this place is seemingly open about it's relative corruption. Slavery, public humiliation and even legal extrajudicial killings are commonplace. There is a surprisingly large population of illusionists here, however. Many of the people there are nagas.
[ ] The... wilderness?! (Write-in for what kind of wilderness)

[crazyabe]

[X] The... wilderness?! To the north east, Between Desert and Mountain.

[ATHATH]

Atania or Nandor, I don't particularly care which.

[Puppyguard]

[X] The... wilderness?! To the north east, Between Desert and Mountain.

+1
Maybe we can find a guru!

[hops]

[X] The... wilderness?! To the north east, Between Desert and Mountain.

+1
Maybe we can find a guru!

+1