Epithets of disgust followed me from the local furrikin children as I wandered my village of Estelbar. "Freak!" was a common title bestowed upon me, one of the few turtle furrikin (or furless furrikin, for that matter) ever seen in my ancestral home. I suppose I was used to it after hearing it for over a decade, ever since the other children realised I was different in some way. It didn't help that many of their parents snickered and glared behind their curtains as I wandered through town.

Dodging into an alleyway near the stable, I ducked into the nearby jeweler, Tomtom Hardbottom. Oddly not related to me, Tomtom was the other turtlekin in our village. He had overcome his own bullies through cunning intellect and being useful to the village in cutting gemstones, repairing wedding bands, and the occasional finework for a dowery. I had no such luck in finding a way to get people to like me, so I often spent my off-time listening to his stories of history and the like. He smiled at me as he gently disassembled a small watch, cleaning up the gears and wheels inside.

"Are the other children throwing rocks at you again, young Tortuga?"

"Yes, sir." I replied, glancing around his shop before looking back outside. "Apparently, I'm just too odd to be around the fruit orchards, might make the fruit rot or something."

He chuckled, and set down his loupe on the desk next to him. "Come, sit." he said, as he patted a couch beside the door of his shop.

I sighed in contentment as I sunk into the cushions, finding a spot for shells set into the back of the couch and fitting me perfectly. "Why do they dislike us so, Master Tomtom?" I asked, patting my pocketbelt for a bit of dried fruit. "I work as hard in the fields as the others. Why am I so different in shape? Why can't the others accept me?"

He looked down as I asked my usual question, and shook his head. "Ignorant people will always distrust that which is different, little one. The world is filled with stupidity and ignorance, and it is all we can do to work to better ourselves and not fall into the pit others have succumbed to."

I wasn't sure I understood, but I nodded my head anyway as if I did.

Tomtom smiled, glancing at a nearby clock before peering outside. "Come, eat lunch with me. I'll tell you a story about Bollikin, you always seem to like those."

I followed him to his back room, where we munched on some small biscuits and cheese he had packed for his lunch meal. Sitting back and belching contentedly, he stuffed a small pipe and lit it with a coal from his smelting pot.

"Bollikin, of course, is our forefather. Able to change His shape with a whim or a thought, He often created animals in His image depending on His moods and shape at the time."

I leaned forward, always interested in history. "But...."

He peered at me over his glasses. "Well, do you want to hear it or not, little one?"

Blushing, I leaned back as he continued.

Clearing his throat, Tomtom went on. "Many of our people resemble the squirrel. Fast and mischievous, resourceful, and smart. This was a shape Bollikin often found Himself in, as it was closest to His true personality. But He often took other forms in order to better suit His needs, you see."

This wasn't something I had heard before. I listened carefully, though I wasn't sure where Tomtom was going with this.

"There are times He found Himself in the shape of a rabbit, or hare of some kind. Long in the ear, fleet of foot, perhaps having to hide from the Soulless until He had assistance. There are times, in battle or when being attacked, that He would take the form much like that of a porcupine; defensive and wary of the dangers around Him."

I had to speak here, because this wasn't taking the turn I thought it would. "Wait, do you mean Bollikin was a fighter?" I asked, not entirely convinced.

"Oh, yes. When you love something as much as Bollikin did, you aren't afraid to fight to defend it, no matter the cost to you." Tomtom said, as he smiled softly. "In fact, He and His friend Tae were often making traps for the Soulless, finding small ways to slow or stop their advance towards the other Elders."

"That's not much of a fighter, Master Tomtom." I said, frowning as I did so. "I mean, Father Bollikin was smallish, but it seems he could have done more."

Tomtom bopped me on the head painfully. "Battle against your foe is more than swinging some damned butter knife and chanting prayers, Tortuga." he chastened me, as he adjusted his glasses. "Bollikin did what He could with what he had. Much as you do, eh?"

I shifted uncomfortably as I pondered his words.

"Now then." Tomtom went on, peering at me again. "There are times when He took on another form, one with... let's say, a pungent personality. Perhaps He didn't want to attract attention, or wanted to scare away a foe with the fear of an ungodly... or godly, as the case may be... stench. I know you can figure that one out."

I laughed, pondering the thought of a titanic Elder skunk. Tomtom chuckled with me, before going on with his story.

"And then, there were times when Bollikin took another form. Seeking some privacy to ponder his thoughts, He would retreat into His own personal shell. Alone from others, He would sink into His thoughts and work on new ways to defend the ones He loved."

Blinking, I pondered this new turn of events. Bollikin Himself took the form of a turtlekin?

"I see the amazement on your face, but I'm puzzled by it. Did you really think that Bollikin made our forms up out of random bits, or that He didn't think us out carefully?"

"I suppose I hadn't thought about it, Master Tomtom. I mean, everyone...almost everyone... in the village is sure I'm some sort of weirdo freak mutation."

He shook his head and stood, brushing crumbs from his chest as he put his leftovers away. As I followed him back into the shop, I had to ask. "How did you get along when you were younger? How did you ignore the taunts and sneers?"

"I found something to take up my time, Tortuga. I learned a trade and made myself useful. Sooner or later, I realised that not only did their taunts not affect me any more, but I just didn't care. I knew my own self-worth, and it had little to do with the insults of the ignorant."

I nodded as I waved goodbye and headed out of the door. I had to find something to do. A purpose in life, a trade, something to take away the barbs of the other villagers. I wandered outside of the village and south, past Acknor and into the nearest city, Magnagora.

"You there, furri... uh.. thing!"

I turned, seeking the voice of my detainer. Before me was an illithoid guard, standing near the gates as she oiled her chain purposefully.

"Yes?"

"Furrikin aren't allowed in the city without someone to keep an eye on them. Unless you have a guide or are joining the city and a guild, you will need to leave."

Sighing, I nodded. "Well, what do I have to choose from? I need to learn a trade anyway."

As I spoke with her about the various guilds about the city, I glanced around at the gates, and finally at her. She was unlike the rest of her brethren, often covered in shoddy leather robes. This illithoid was covered head to toe in designed someone had scrawled upon her flesh. "Excuse me, miss. Why did someone draw on you?"

She stared at me angrily, before realising what I was talking about. "Ah, these. These are tattoos, fool. They protect me and others wearing them. As a monk, they are something I learned as a child in order to make my way."

I nodded slowly. "Do people pay well for these then?"

She smirked. "Yes, but they require a steady hand, an intelligent mind, and a heart for the aesthetics."

I nodded. I had found my new home, and my trade.