Inys Charak

Inys was born in the city surrounding the Library of Kano though her parents worried the baby ikati's story would end shortly after it began. Her birth had been much too early. The head midwife had told them she would survive if she could make it to her eighth week. Through constant care and vigilance, the deadline came and went. By the sixth week, there was little concern as tiny Inys was filled with more vitality and motion than any of her siblings. There were only two reminders of the whole ordeal. First, she was much smaller than her counterparts, only growing to four feet in her adult years. Second, her paws, unable to complete the development process in the wound, were fused together. Only her side claw was able to move independently from the rest of her paw in a condition known as mitten paws.
These deformities, while glaring in a physical sense, were mere bumps in the road for Inys. Too impatient to wait for help, she began climbing and jumping early in her childhood. By the age of five, she was able to clear three times her height in a single bound. When climbing, she learned to user her side claw for stability and her fused paw to grab or press into gaps. There was a defiant determination whenever something was considered out of her reach but not others. Her father, a taciturn but kind ikati, had always encouraged this. He treated her as her siblings, though the light in his eyes shown a little brighter for her accomplishments. A woodcarver by trade, he taught her the value in perservering through adversity. After all, a block will go through stages of promise and blunders before the artisan finishes a piece. He also taught her not to concern herself with taking risks; you can always continue to mold the results into something new.
As Inys grew into adulthood, her determination set her on a different path from her father, however. She had always been fascinated with the sounds of the lark and sparrow; mimicking their sweet songs to herself as she carved next to her father. One day, she made up her mind. She would travel westward to Quillians, the bardic college in Lochmalan. Her mother tried to dissuade her, but this only furthered her resolve. She put together a trundle including a small figurine of a nightingale her father had made for her when she was a child, and headed out along the road.
When she arrived at Quillians, she was met with her first obstacle. The school required training in at least two instruments, and only one could be precussion. They encouraged her to start with the trumpet, but the shrill sound was like nails upon a chalkboard. She attempted strings, but her one movable claw, the talon always outstretched, kept slicing through the strings. She found herself capable enough to play chords, but this put her far behind her classmates. With no fatherly encouragement and every road barred with one insurmountable obstacle or another, Inys broke. Her storytelling, claimed as the most mesmerizing by her teachers and peers alike, grew listless. She ate little and left her room driven only by duty to appear in class.
One night, as she lay in her bed softly mewling to herself, a flash of soft blue and sienna caught her eye before a soft thud. She rushed to open her window, and there upon the sill set a nightingale. The sudden movement startled the bird and it attempted to dart away, but fell to the ground below. Inys jumped from the window, landing softly next to the bird, and peered cautiously at it. The right wing was bent oddly, and when she pressed softly on it the bird let out an agonized squawk. Concerned rushed over her, replacing any pity she had felt for herself, and she cradled the bird softly and jumped back through the window. She grabbed a chisel she had brought from home, and carved a piece of wood from the bedpost, shaping it to fit the appropriate curve for the wing. She tied it with some thread, though not without a few pecks in sharp protest, before allowing the bird some space. The wing was still unable to fly, but she hoped it would heal in time. She jumped once more to and from her window to collect some insects to feed her newfound friend. Lullaby would be her name.
Lullaby became her constant companion. She would bring the bird to class and to meals. The bird had given her a new purpose, though her failing instrumental classes continued to bring her low. In these times, Lullaby would trill a soft song and Inys would sing softly with them. One day, in which she had broken three lute strings in a single slip of the claw, a teacher had stumbled across her in the school garden as she was whistling along with Lullaby. Even as a whisper, he could tell this gift of a voice was her instrument. He first convinced the dean to allow her song to count towards graduation and then found a vocal tutor. Her skill was clear immediately. The thrills and whistles of wildlife were mimicked with ease by her. More than that, her melodies were so moving they filled the nostrils with the scent of blossoms, the tongue tasted rain on a dry day, the mind's eye moved through forest or meadow. Each note pulled the listener into whatever wild wonderland she had devised in the song's making.
Inys Charak, or "Wildsong", is one of the most prolific bards throughout the continent of Taisunia. No one has ever been able to capture her exact form, though her songs have been altered by many a bard to fit more traditional instruments. While not as magnificent as an original Charak, these are still prized pieces for their unique and captivating sounds in their own right.