Changeling Of Heart

Zex opened the door of the restroom in the saltiest bar in Port Urchin. An orc shook their face in the wash basin. He grunted and spat into the water and groaned. They ensured the spitter didn't get an eye on them and slipped into a stall, followed by a swift click of the lock.

Alone now, they set their pack on the floor and rooted through it. They pushed aside their newly purchased adventure gear to grip a bound scroll. Swirls of golden vines painted the textured paper, and their fingers reverently unfurled it. They hung the loop attached to the paper’s edge on the stall door, and the scroll unfurled to the floor. Indecipherable symbols arranged in various shapes glowed until they melded and grew into a solid jet-black ink wall; darker than dark. In that dark, Zex smiled at their reflection.

No matter how many times they'd seen this happen, they never lost their awe for it. Zex looked at their current form and felt proud of their latest piece of persona artwork. This time, Zex went with a distinctly noble looking aristocratic gentleman; a real man-about-town with white gloves and frills. This character was hardly the type that would be found in a seedy tavern; but his talk of future investments and deep coffers made the owner a fast friend. He rubbed his belly, thoroughly wined and dined. "Don't make payments on promises, no matter how charming they are." Zex thought to themself. "Tata for now, Tam!" They smirked and winked at their reflection.

Zex breathed in and out and shut their eyes. They imagined a scrappy half-elf with a leather jacket, old grease stains and a vibrant red bandana tied around her head. She had a cute way about her, like a puppy with quills. Zex smiled to themself, and felt their body remold from the soles of their feet to the top of their head.

She exhaled and opened her new eyes to admire her handiwork. Zex stretched and felt like a blooming flower. She gave her new transmogrified outfit a tug to make sure it was all in good order. "Okay... You're no longer the Tam, the wealthy merchant's son looking to impress his distant father by making some shrewd investments... no, now you're..." She tapped a slender finger against her thin lips.

"Freila. Freila the apprentice wainwright who has a chip on her shoulder and grease under her nails from building wagons all day. Freila, the outsider in her profession. She is chronically

underestimated, which gives her a spiteful but competitive edge. Yes, that'll do nicely." Zex gave the mirror a practiced pout, shot it a heated glance of indignation and cracked her knuckles and leaned in to mouth the words "You got a problem with me, you puffed up toadstool?" Zex's scowl turned into a small smile as they broke character. She rolled the scroll up off the wall and stowed it away.

"Okay Freila, don't forget, you're in the men's room now..." she said to herself as she stared out the crack in the door. The Orc from before was still there, holding themselves up on the basin. They looked like they were waiting to be sick. "Eugh. Poor guy..." She thought, and waited until she heard the telltale sound of heaving before she darted out of the room and back into the center of the tavern.

The bustling tavern was hazy with pipe smoke and the smell of the wharf seeping off of the seaworthy patrons. She sat at the spot where Tam had sat before. A man was slumped into his arms on the bar next to her, his salt and pepper hair cut to flat too.

The bartender returned from the back, a couple of kegs in both of his arms. "Seats taken, lass." he said as he set the kegs down.

"Not anymore, I saw that silver spoon duck out the back door." She gestured towards the exit by the bathroom.

"What?!" He craned his neck to look at the back door that Zex had left open. "I fed the lad lobster and he dine and dashes?!" He cracked his knuckles and rolled up his sleeves as he lumbered towards the exit. Freila giggled and drank the rest of her drink.

"That was a dirty little trick, aye?" the flat top man chuckled. He lifted his head and looked at Freila; his striking lavender eyes dilated and contracted as they scanned over her. She pulled back a little in her seat.

"Y-Yeah, running out without paying? He must've been some real piece of work to pull one over on every sailors' favorite bartender." She said as she glanced away.

He didn't say anything, but the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a smile. "Indeed." He said as he sat up. His leather jacket was nicer than she'd first noticed. He looked rugged, but altogether more extravagant than the usual sailor. "Wonder what kind of man would cross the owner of the most famous bar in town?"

"The kind who was really hungry." She said in monotone disinterest. She got up to leave him, but as she did, he gripped her upper arm with subtle force. His gaze met hers, but his expression was one more of curiousness than malice. The kind of look a lion might give a mouse. "Indeed again... Why don't you join me in a booth? Let's chat for a while, I'll buy ya some food."

"I'm not hungry." She said.

"After all that lobster and drink, I wouldn't be either." he laughed, a glint in his eye. His grip tightened. "Don't try to run now. I just want to talk. Last thing we need is for this place to get all tussled up." He nodded down to the hand holding her arm and her gaze followed. The sleeve fell down a little, and she could see a long spring-loaded dart machine fastened to his arm. The tip was thin and glistened with an oily purple sheen.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice small but defiant. He grabbed her bag off her shoulder with his other arm and led her to the corner of the room to a large semi-circle booth. He ushered her in and sat on the edge, trapping her in. He leaned back casually, his armed hand trained on her.

"Morigan Black. I'm with RID. The Royal Inquiry Department. Our highness has a keen interest in making sure all his subjects are safe from powerful magical items; less they cause harm to themselves or others." He gave her a knowing smile. "These artifacts have... markers of magic use that stand out like a candle in a dark room." He snapped his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. Her heart skipped a bit, expecting to be outed; instead, he ordered two drinks. Confused, she took a deep breath trying to keep the fear from freezing her mind.

"Okay, Morigan... Fine, you got me. I'm the worst criminal and irresponsible user of magical items, ever. I pilfered the holy kitchen and left it bereft of lobster like the lowly heathen I am." She pouted. "Look, I never meant to do any serious harm, alright? I was hungry and tired of surviving on dumpster food..." A beat of silence passed before her expression softened. "What happens next?" She never expected to get caught, not when she could be anyone she wanted to be.

He raised his eyebrow, the bartender set the drinks before them both. He gave him more than enough for them both; enough to cover the meal she stole earlier three times over. The barkeep insinuated that he'd made a mistake counting his coppers, but Morigan insisted that he take it as a tip. He shrugged his shoulders and left them alone, knowing from the look in his eyes that he preferred not to be bothered.

"Well... I'm not sure," He took a swig of his drink as he leaned back in the seat and appraised her. "By all means, I'm sworn to confiscate and fulfill the King's law when it comes to those who have and use magic items. Standard procedure is the three c's. Capture, confine, and cut." He dragged his thumb along his neck, sticking his tongue out as he said the final c. "But, there could be another option... If you answer a few questions first." He said, his lavender eyes scrutinizing her body language. "And don't lie. I'll know." He tapped his temple and his pupils expanded, like stage lights growing to encompass an entire stage.

"Well, Jeeze, thanks a lot Morigan, sir, I love being given the illusion of choice." She pouted, despite the pounding in her chest. Even if she were to leave this mortal coil, she wouldn't do so without giving him her genuine disdain for being coerced. "Ask away." She gulped down a couple swigs of her beer and crossed her arms tightly.

He nodded and held up his hand. "One; Where did you steal that transforming artifact? Two; Who are you, really? Three; Do you have any ties with the furlixum trade in Port Urchin?"

She took a deep breath and let a moment of silence pass. "Alright, fine. One; I didn't steal it, I made it. Two-"

"What?" He interrupted, squinting at her, his eyes scanned her up and down, looking for any subtle cues of deceit. "No one who could create a powerful artifact like that would be doing pranks for free meals. You must’ve stolen it." He said, annoyed at the prospect that she might be able to escape his magical lie detecting gaze, somehow.

She smirked, a little proud of herself. "Believe it or not, you don't need to go to some big fancy academy to learn how to bend reality. The recipe is all there, if you know what to look for."

"You were probably trained by a rogue professor or something, is that it?" He asked, doubtful.

"Nope! I've always seen magic, talked magic, breathed magic ever since I was a kid." She said.

"If you can do all that, then why the hell aren't you getting rich, or taking over towns, or ensorceling people like all the other powerful wizards?"

"Uh... strong morals?" She laughed, despite her situation. "I guess I've always wondered where the fun was in taking all the surprise out of life." She shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, I'm good, but I'm not *that* good. I wouldn't know how to scale up my abilities to do anything like that, even if I wanted to."

He grunted, a little perturbed at her lax attitude towards wielding power, but he nodded regardless. "Alright, fine. We'll come back to that later. I saw you go into the restroom and come out looking completely different. These eyes didn't miss that. Who are you, really? And don't give me your whole life story; I'm on a schedule." He said, looking at his pocket watch and out towards the warehouse across the street.

She seemed more relaxed now. If he could really detect lies so easily, she'd just have to tell the truth and hope for the best. "Alright... My name is... Zex... and that's all I can remember."

"Okay, not that brief, Zex." he said, chuckling despite himself.

"No, really, that's all I can remember... From the first time I used my scroll to transform, I've forgotten my previous life... Maybe, maybe I did something wrong when I first used it...but I swear it's not that...I just don't know what. Not yet at least." She said, her hands squeezed her forearms a little tight. "I don't remember who I was or what I was like. So I'm spending time in different skins until I find something that feels more or less like home, I guess..." He looked at her a little sympathetically. There was a lot to unpack there, too.

"Well, you're a lot more complex than I bargained for. Alright, third question. What do you know about furlixium?" He asked, his attention turned to his own bag as he listened.

"What's furlixium?" She asked, curious, her eyes following his hands, feeling some relief knowing the weapon wasn't trained on her anymore.

He chuckled. "Essentially werewolf blood processed with poppy opiates into a tea. It's said to make one revert to a primal animalistic state in pure bliss for a few hours. It's a good high, but illegal as can be. There's a distribution center here in Port Urchin, and that's why I'm here. I'm close to a big bust."

"And How do you know It's a good high?" She asked, incredulously, a small smile forming.

"Sometimes It's easier to track these things if you get a nibble of the beast you're looking for." He chuckled back. "Alright, Zex. Since I can't legally let you go without breaking my oath to the King... I'll just have to invoke one of the rights I'm granted as a member of RID."

"And that is?" Her voice was a little annoyed at his dramatic flare, but whether it was annoyance at him or annoyance at her feeling drawn in by it she couldn't tell.

"I get to name any deputy I want to enter into my service. I like your style, Zex. Most people in your situation lie more than they breath; you didn't." He smiled at her. "Plus, having a magical shapeshifting genius on your side isn't bad either."

"Great, another illusion of choice." She grumbled, but there was no bite to it this time. Knowing she could work her magic under the protection of the king was a boon she never would've have imagined before. She shook his hand. "Don't assume I'm grateful, but... maybe this could be good for me." She said, a little weariness in her voice but with a hint of hope.

"I never assume anything, especially before I tell people what I need them to do for me." He said, a grin growing on his face, his lavender eyes focusing as he leans in. "I'm looking to bag the leader of Furlixium here in Port Urchin... but the man running the operation is a paranoid dwarf who leaves his dens so heavily booby trapped that the department can be safe to assume we'll lose at least a few men when we clear out his hideouts... I know where he's at, but I'll need your help drawing him out."

"O-okay... How do figure I can do that? I'm not trained in...well, anything, really." She said, a little worried as she wrung the anxiety out of her hands.

"He's got a sister. They've become estranged ever since he became a drug peddler, but they were always close. She's become head of their clan ever since their father retired in disgrace once his heir turned to crime." He laid down a realistic portrait of a dwarf woman. She had a strong elegance about her that brokered no foolishness. One of her eyes was covered with a leather eyepatch with the symbol of a dwarven house on it. "You'll transform to look like her and lure him out to the street. And then-" He gave the palm of his hand a meaty slap with his fist. "I'll bring him in. Deal?"

She gulped, her eyes darted left and right, a habit of hers when she's trying to plan things through. "This is stupid, we should-"

"If there was time to be smarter, I'd take it, believe me. We know he's been sneaking people away in the night, for who knows what reasons. An informant said he's almost done creating a portal between here and the capital city where he'll be able to hide easier than a rat in a bar like this one." He checked his watch again. "In fact, we're already behind. I was going to just drink my night away before I had to give a sour report to the chief, but now that you're here, maybe we can get this done.

She downed the rest of her beer, wiping her face. "Alright, screw it. I don't have a choice anyway." She took the paper and studied it closely. "Okay, I have an idea..."

---

Morigan ran up the warehouse, holding a dwarf woman across his arms like a ragdoll. He wore an expression that bordered on panic as he ran up to the door he'd been watching people come and go into. He banged on it until a slit opened to show a confused pair of eyes that quickly turned frightful at the sight of a dress that was stained and dripped with scarlet red. The body within splotched with bruises. The door slammed open and a terrified dwarf ran out to meet them with tears welled in his eyes. "Leila!" he cried, as he approached.

The woman reached out for him and whispered his name. His hand met hers and her grip tightened hard. His nose wrinkled, noticing the overwhelming smell of wine around her. Her stained hand was sticky with the stuff.

Morigan noticed his confusion and extended his hand. With a click, a needle shot out and plunged into the dwarf’s arm. His eyes lost focus and he slumped to the ground. His chest rising and falling slowly as he snored.

---

"I can't believe that worked." he laughed as he locked him up in the back of his wagon.

"Honestly? Me either." She said in a newfound thick dwarven accent, wiping the makeup from her face. "Please tell me I can change soon, I smell like I've been sleeping in a cask for a month." She said, sticking her tongue out. Morigan laughed harder now as they traveled down the road and out of town toward the capital. She still wasn't sure who she was, but she knew she didn't mind being the Zex she was now, at least for a little while.