Sisuhaastaja.obj

OBJECT NAME

progINPUT:"AGE"

progINPUT:"GENDER"

progINPUT:"HEIGHT"

progINPUT:"TYPE"

CODED BY

progRECALL: “SISUHAASTAJA.OBJ”, admininput; ADMINPARAM: “Design History”
SISUHAASTAJA.OBJ -> Object skin is splotched, visual loss of pigmentation in eyes, skin, and hair color. Unable to interpret AUDITORY INPUT. Based off genetic disorder. Related to group objects SISU- totaling at five compiled objects and codes. Final and last Object to be linked to this group. 4’06 scaling, small due to abnormalities, further heightening awareness that the Object is suffering from a preexisting condition. Paths are randomized.

Role: CORRUPTED
ADMIN OVERIDE REQUIRED-> ADMIN OVERRIDE INPUT

It is rumored that there was a curse placed on the youngest son of the Mainios, for the child never spoke, and would not respond to any sound. Yet, of all the hedge mages about, not a single one could decipher the curse that was rumored to afflict their youngest son. Whether or not you believe the rumors, well, it is up to you… but the Mainios have made many enemies, aggressive to a fault when it came to expanding their farm. Perhaps they merely pissed off the wrong person… or perhaps their sense of pride about their success is what caused their only boy to be silenced from the beginning. They gave up, leaving their child… to his fate in resignation for they could only believe that he had been struck dumb and… they accepted him as such, closing the world around him, as they felt greatly humbled. It was their fault for deciding not to seek further treatment, nearly missing the crucial language gap. They nearly gave up on him, but, a lone wandering mage, a healer, knew upon touching his mind that the boy was never struck dumb, and instead reached out. Perhaps there was a curse, but it could not be lifted, or would not be lifted even with the wander’s abilities. Then he became something fragile, something that had to be protected, not just a little young boy. Vertti was tutored by the healer that could touch his mind, taught symbols and meanings… and found that the world was so much larger as he grew older. That… he was never a moron… and that no matter what the neighbors thought of his curse, he instead felt the need to prove the exact opposite. Didn’t matter how longer it would take, he’d put them all to shame one day, they’d realize that they were dead wrong. He found a sense of accomplishment as he could write and read runes with ease… but, something changed.

The parents of the boy had hope now… they had an heir, one that given the right guidance could maintain the family name. The healer was dismissed to parts unknown as they realized that he was leading their frail son down a path that they did no desire. For while he might be cursed, he could write glyphs with ease, communicate with a wave of his hand, learning gestures that could only be described as… magic. To him, this was merely the only way to communicate… but to others it was unnerving to see runes and letters pop out of thin air and dance. Unnatural. As was his draw to the Forest of Winter. Quickly the lad learned how to bury it, and use… a more mundane manner of communication, vellum and ink. There was a deep sense of loss, that was buried beneath the daily toils of farm work, and although he enjoyed working with the animals, he wasn’t challenged in a manner that was suited the boy. The farm hands saw his work as clumsy, his body small and awkward, and his inability to hear caused more than a few fights. Although the lad had begun to learn life skills, especially the finer points of animal handling, and played more than a few pranks, he would lash out as he came to realize that he would be on the farm for the rest of his life. Yet, his parents couldn’t always keep an eye on him, and nor could the farm hands… no, his sisters were getting married. Not necessarily willingly, but it was for the family, when did individual desires ever come into the equation. Perhaps, he was selfish. Perhaps, he was being a moron. Yet, he did not want to be forced into this life.

There was a spark there, a wonder that he could not experience, would not be allowed to feel as long as he was about their small town. It was after all unnatural. A sense of loneliness fell upon the youth for many years as he made few friends among the towns folk. He was supposedly cursed, and he couldn’t speak, but yet he could rad their lips and know… the funny thing is that he would have loved to be normal, but no. That wasn’t allowed… and those kids would regret it one way or another. There would always be apologies, but, there was little punishment, his parents believed that he was… much weaker of mind than he was. That while he could learn the farm, that there would be nothing beyond. Except that light, that knowledge was calling to him and so he stole, fought, and scrapped to keep that spark alive. Yet, with all these new faces, perhaps he might not be so lonely anymore… or perhaps they’ll just ignore him and his antics, like all the rest.