Vera was thrown to the floor as a gout of flame shot over her. Fern, the recruitment official had led her to the city’s Adventuring Corps headquarters. Luckily, her reaction time was leagues ahead of Vera’s or else the Corps would’ve received charred demon rather than a new recruit.
“Heads up,” called a voice from the same direction the fire had originated. The orcish woman wiped soot from her face, having taken the brunt of the errant flame to her bare skin. After putting out the smoldering lapel of her uniform, she grabbed the back of Vera’s tunic and lifted her easily back to her feet.
“Hang here a moment,” she said with a grin. “I’m gonna go give them an explanation of why it’s in their best interest to keep the sparring inside the ring.” She marched off and Vera stayed by the front entrance of the building, only moving to the side to allow the doors to open without smacking her. Corps members tended to be somewhat insular, but she was quickly gaining the understanding that an exuberant opening of the doors could endanger her. She turned to take in the whole room, sparring rings running along one wall while weights, punching bags, and more esoteric exercise equipment lined the other. The space was not nearly large enough to contain the amount of activity taking place, and yet as she watched every individual element blended as if orchestrated.
Vera was watching one ring in which a shade and a satyr sparred. The two were locked in a close combat struggle, both wielding blades. Neither paid any attention to the room around them, but both disengaged instantly when a fighter in another ring created a fissure in the stone of the rings that reached them. A moment after the fissure had settled, the satyr leapt over the scarred stone to again pressure her opponent. Behind her the stone began to mend itself, dim runes along the wall brightening until the stone was again without a mark.
The entire room maintained the same busy atmosphere leaving Vera hesitant at crossing the space between the door and the desk at the back of the room. It was clearer than either the sparring section or the weights area, but the people crossing between the two did so with enough alacrity that she saw the simple path as an obstacle course.
Her eyes moved back to her orcish escort. The official had quickly reached the ring from which the earlier inferno had been launched. She didn’t wait for the spar to conclude, instead simply grabbing the wrist of a whip wielder and letting the momentum of the whip die by wrapping loosely around the wielders opponent. The opponent, the originator of the conflagration had been casting a spell, but when the orc stepped between, he aborted and launched a blast of air up into the ceiling instead. Before his attention had returned to the woman in front of him, Fern struck her palm against his forehead and hooked her foot around his ankle causing him to fall backward. The following talking to was drowned out by the sparing that didn’t pause in the other rings.
Vera’s attention was drawn away from the interaction by a man approaching in thick robes. His face and build gave the impression of an average human, but the slitted eyes made her assume some draconic ancestry. Instead of heading for the door as Vera had expected, he moved to speak with her, waving a hand at Fern standing over the recipient of her lecture.
“So, you were her first victim,” he said, positioning himself next to Vera, both of them watching the resolution.
“Victim?” she asked. His voice had been full of mirth despite the ominous content of the words.
“They tried not to let her man the recruitment desk. Her particular brand of enthusiasm is considered a touch too aggressive by those without her resilience.” His words were accompanied by exaggerated gestures and drew Vera’s eyes to the colorful fur on the backs of his hands and up his arms.
“She seemed almost timid when I first met her,” she said, attempting to inspect him out of the corner of her eye. Fern was soon through with the errant caster, and Vera’s new acquaintance turned back to Vera.
“Yeah, she was my training officer, so I think I’m going to go before she drags me into some drill or another.” He moved to brush past her, making for the door when the orcish woman called out.
“Not another step, Riley.” She didn’t break into a run, but the woman’s awkwardly brisk walking made it clear she’d have preferred to. “If you walk out those doors, I’ll have you cleaning out the unicorn stables again.”
“I really don’t have the time or constitution for your unique methods of training today,” the man said, turning to give the orc a mockingly helpless expression. Vera looked away from her escort, turning instead to her brief conversational partner, but was met with an elvish woman’s face. She almost made it to the door, but Fern gave up on her attempts to observe decorum by launching herself forward for the last couple meters. She grabbed the woman’s wrist, now attached to draconic talons, complete with scales replacing the fur.
“I don’t overly care if you have time,” said the much taller orc, “I appreciate it if you didn’t steal from the new recruits.” She bobbed her head in Vera’s direction and the demon was reminded of the envelope that had been in her back pocket. It’s too-light weight had made it painfully easy to forget, and even easier not to miss.
“My Spines,” Vera said, questioningly as if she were no longer sure she’d even had them anymore.
“How does a brute like you,” the now elvish Riley said, turning to the orc still holding her wrist, “always catch my lifts?”
“Honestly, I just assume you’ve lifted something anytime you interact with, well, anyone,” she said back, grinning. She released her captive’s arm, but a third arm appeared from within the bulky robes. This arm was closer to human, though its skin and flesh had the translucency common among celestials. In the hand was Vera’s envelope she’d originally taken to Vladik’s office.
“Sorry, love,” the thief said, handing back the envelope. “Gotta keep the skills sharp somehow.”
“Yeah, that excuse is hardly going to fly,” said Fern, turning back to Vera. “You should probably count that. Come on, I’ll get your paperwork filed and then I can show you the dorms.” Riley trying again to make her escape, was cut short as an orcish hand grabbed the back of her collar. “Nope, you’re not going anywhere until that is counted.”
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Vera was, in fact, short. By a Sword and five Brooms. A part of her waited for Fern to hold the thief up by the ankle and shake until it was raining money. The culprit now wore an elvish man’s face, the skin tone much darker than his earlier elvish appearance. He was busy bemoaning his rough treatment at the orc’s hand to the desk worker not conversing with Fern.
“But that’s what I’m saying,” he said to the expressionless wind elemental at the desk. “It trains my sleight of hand, and their situational awareness.” The elemental was nearly motionless, painfully unresponsive, an oddity for the famously lively species. “All I’m asking is to be paid for my troubles; there’s really a worker’s rights issue here.”
“Are they even listening to you?” asked Vera.
“Of course,” said the shapeshifter while the elemental shook its non-corporeal head.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” said Fern, having finished submitting Vera’s paperwork.
“I guarantee she actually means bad news and worse news,” chimed in the thief.
“The bad news,” she began, glaring at the elvish face swiftly becoming translucent. “Is that we won’t have time for the dorms.”
“What’s the rush?” asked Vera, brows furrowed.
“The good news,” she answered, “is I managed to already get you a deployment. And I’ll be supervising.”
“Oof, that’s not good,” said Riley, chuckling.
“What was that?” asked Fern sharply. Vera was slowly being impressed by the ease with which the shapeshifter could irritate the cheerful woman.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, holding up his hands as he turned to walk to the exit. “That sounds like a lovely first deployment for a new recruit.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said the orcish woman, her cheerful tone suddenly more eerie. “I made sure to get you assigned as well.” She partly squatted down so she’d be eye-level with the thief. “Gotta keep those skills sharp, right?”
“No, I’m not ready for something like that,” said Vera, startling herself with the sharp tone of her exclamation. “Just a few days ago I was sketching in bed, and most of the time since then, I’ve been asleep.”
“You’ll have to be ready for this eventually,” said Fern. She gestured at the room they stood in, all the chaotic training still revolving around them. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve already stepped into this world.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but Vera’s jaw clenched at the words.
“I didn’t step into it,” she said, jabbing a finger into the woman’s chest, “I was shoved into it, and since then I’ve just been tossed around.” Riley took on a meek expression and changed his face to one of an innocent goblin as he tried to slip away, but Fern grabbed his collar again without taking her eyes off Vera. She grimaced, flexing her free hand as if to loosen its muscles.
“You’re clearly capable,” she said, pointing her hand vaguely in the direction of the recruitment office. “The article said you made a mess of that demon.” She tugged the struggling thief backward and released him so she could put both hands on Vera’s shoulders. “I understand you’re worried, but you’ve got what it takes.”
“That wasn’t me,” Vera said, her voice thick with exasperation. “I haven’t got what it takes. Maybe eventually I will,” she said, adding the allowance when the orc readied a rebuttal. “But today, I don’t.”
“Alright,” said Fern after a moment. “I was the primary on the deployment anyways, so I just complete it solo.” Vera breathed out, and smiled mostly to herself. Stepping back, the orcish woman took her hands off the smaller demoness, one arm quickly snaking out again to grab the hair of an absconding changeling. Having only grown out the hair to prevent their collar being grabbed, Riley’s face cringed at the yank.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Why do you change while we can still see you?” Vera asked as they were pulled back between the two women. “Seems like it limits the effectiveness of the disguise.”
“Adds flavor to an otherwise drearily tedious world,” they said shrugging. “Besides nothing stops me from changing again once out of sight.”
“Riley, you’re going to take Vera to her dorms while I’m deployed,” said their captor. “Make sure she gets settled in or I’ll have to report your training methods again.”
“Oh, please,” responded the thief with a dismissive wave of their hand. “The Corps hardly cares as long as I don’t interfere with members’ deployments.” They had a smug grin on their ambiguously dwarven face despite their hair still being clutched in the orcish woman’s fist.
“Maybe they just need some supplemental training,” Vera suggested, breaking the brief stare down that was forming. “Perhaps they could use a spar as training,” she said leadingly, as Fern smiled and Riley went white.
“Oh, stop being melodramatic,” said the orc, releasing her captive who had drained their entire face and hair of any pigment. “What a splendid idea,” she said with a venomous cheer. “If I come back to find you haven’t shown Vera a warm welcome to the Corps, I’ll make sure you and I spar from dawn till dusk until I break you.”
“It’s really just straight to threats with you, isn’t it?” asked the shapeshifter, her face regaining color as it turned more definitively human. “Have you considered how off putting your propensity for enthusiastic violence can be?” The orc seemed to deflate at her words and Vera reached up to pat her shoulder.
“A propensity for enthusiastic violence can be very endearing,” she said placatingly before adding, “…to someone.”
“Not the receiver of said violence,” said Riley, fixing her hair as she let it shrink closer to her head again. “Don’t worry,” she continued, rolling her eyes at Fern moderately disconsolate expression. “I’ll make sure she gets to the dorms.”
“What even was the assignment you were trying to get us deployed on?” asked Vera. The Adventuring Corps didn’t go out of its way to publish its activities, but it was fairly common knowledge they dealt with a wide array of dangerous wildlife, both magical and mundane.
“Just had to drive off a troop of striped concussive chimps from a factory the empire is building,” the orc answered solemnly.
“How would I have been any help with howling monkeys?” asked the thief with genuine confusion.
“I will admit,” she began with mock contrition, “that I may have added you to the deployment out of spite.” She grinned as she looked at the humanish shapeshifter. “But you’re certainly annoying and loud enough to fit right in.”
“I guess maybe I could handle that,” said Vera before Riley could counter that being loud was by definition outside her skill set. “It really sounds more annoying than dangerous.”
“No, you were right,” the orc admitted, dropping her grin. “I was being overly zealous. If you got too close, a concussive chimp could probably rupture your chest.” Vera searched the woman's face for any hint of joviality, but met a rigidly serious expression.
"And it took me backing out for you to realize this might be too much for me?" she asked. "I would've understood if it were just my eardrums—"
"Oh, those would also rupture," Fern cut in, before shrinking back under an exasperated glare from Vera. "I just thought the chest rupturing was the more pertinent part," she said to the ground. The demoness sighed lightly, glancing at thief whose face was irregularly neutral.
"So back to the dorms?" she asked, breaking the brief silence.
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"Will she be okay?" Vera asked her newest companion, the shapeshifting pickpocket. "I know orcish constitution is more resilient than demon, but something that ruptures chest really seems hazardous to more than just me." They had just split off from the excitable official, and she was starting to feel guilty letting making her go alone.
"You've never seen an Adventurer in the field?" Riley asked in response. Vera shook her head. The threats of her homeworld had long been dealt with, leaving deployments unnecessary. "The training we receive goes a lot further than simply sparring and working out," he continued. He wore a red-scaled draconic face, but had a mane of spines as if he were a graezen. "The Corps maintains a staff of illusionists, oneiromancers, and few other mental disciplines." His words made Vera briefly think of Braulen. Just another reason he wouldn't be joining the Corps.
"I'm sure that makes you all very skilled," she said, attempting and failing to keep a teasing condescension out of her tone. "But it doesn't seem like it would stop someone's chest rupturing."
"I was building up to that. Is providing a bit of context so much of a crime?" He asked with mock hurt. "My point was," he continued laboriously, "the Corps' methods don't end at the mundane."
"I knew you had mages on your roster, but Fern seemed like a brawler."
"Oh, yeah. She has zero aptitude for anything arcane," Riley agreed, grinning. "But I was still talking about magical training." He pulled a spine from within his robes, and Vera panicked, checking she still had her meager wealth. She relaxed when she took a moment to examine the spine.
It wasn't a natural spine from a graezen or other species, but it also wasn't made from the precious metals of the imperial currency. It was a glassy black stone, possibly crystal. Unlike natural and monetary spines, it was not round, its crafter giving it four sides. On each side, tightly packed runes filled the space between both sharp tips. They were slowly meandering towards the dorms, Vera's not being far from the headquarters. The out-of-synch bobbing as the walked made it difficult for her to inspect the spine. She reached to take it and Riley relinquished it easily.
"You realize this doesn't explain much if I don't know what it is, right?" Vera asked while she inspected the spine. A magic was contained within the spine, but her senses couldn't penetrate the dark stone to feel inside.
"You realize every time you derail my explanation to point out how slow I'm explaining, it slows me down further, right?"
Vera didn't respond.
"Anyways," he said to get them back on track. "There are restrictive magics inside spines." The demoness still couldn't penetrate the spine, but the description of the magic resonated with the faint sense she received.
"Isn't that basically magical weight lifting?" She asked, imagining the spine would just make it harder to move.
"It's a bit more comprehensive than that," the shapeshifter answered. "If you break the spine—"
Vera broke the spine.
Her head spun as her body fell. The magic that had been just beyond her while contained in the spine invaded her body. Oddly, there was no pain and the quick thief was able to catch her before she struck the cobbles under foot.
"That wasn't an instruction," the thief said, her face suddenly elven. Her words reached the fallen demoness, but it was as though they'd been spoken under water. Vera strained to pick out any individual words.
"Huh?" she asked loudly. The shapeshifter's face was as fuzzy as her words and Vera dazedly lifted her hand before her face, finding her own appendage similarly blurry.
"Don't worry," said the thief as she continued to prop Vera up. "There wasn't any restrictions on your constitution in that one." The demoness nodded along not understanding anything. "A quick lie down should help you acclimate a bit," she eventually said. She swept an arm under Vera's legs and lifted her in a poor approximation of a princess carry. The demon's limp body and Riley's lacking strength made it a precarious endeavour, but Vera had already passed out.
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She awoke to find a familiar face looking down at her. She last seen the large man's face just before entering Vladik's building. Titon grinned in response to her opening her eyes. The image was blurry, similar to before she'd passed out, though now she'd only desperately need thick glasses rather than being functionally blind.
The small giant disappeared from sight entirely and Vera tried to sit up. Whatever surface she lay on was not stable in the slightest and her control over her body had reached new lows, resulting in her falling back immediately. The surface must have been soft or she must have been numb, because she didn't feel a thing. Voices to her side caused her to turn her head, not bothering to reattempt sitting up.
Two indistinct figures were approaching, and Vera would've sworn Titon had gained a miniature of himself.
"How are you feeling?" asked mini-Titon, though the words were mostly garbled to Vera. Unsure how to respond, she simply nodded. Mini-Titon smiled and said something further, but the demoness's attention wandered. The magic that had invaded her body had not faded, despite the intensity of her condition having somewhat lessened. If anything it had grown more entrenched, nestling right up against her soul and reservoir of magic.
Her first instinct was to tear the magic out of herself. It was clearly the source of her current ailment, but a fragment of her mind remembered Riley calling this training. Of course, that could easily have been a ploy for him to steal her diminutive fortune. Vera doubted that, mostly due to the threat posed by Fern if the orc found out.
She didn't know where the shapeshifter had gone off to. She also didn't know where she'd gone off to. Forgetting her earlier failure to rise, Vera again tried to sit up. Her body cooperated no more than last time, but the fullsize Titon caught her as she began to fall back.
Sitting up, she could finally see the surface that had thwarted her previous attempt. It was a thick canvas suspended above the floor. Knowing her position, a dizzy spell hit Vera and she wobbled even more, but Titon held her upper back and shoulder.
"Vera?" asked mini-Titon. He was waving a hand in front of her face, her eyes clumsily following. "Vera?" he asked again, this time with a bit of a sing-song tone.
"Yes, mini-Titon," Vera answered with all the eloquence she could muster, which wasn't much. Mini-Titon frowned, looked at larger Titon, and a look of realization crossed his face. His face changed from a miniature of the small giant's to a draconic one with spines for hair. "Riley?"
"Do me a favor," he said with a worried grin. "Don't tell Fern about this." Vera made to put her finger to her lips, but wildly misjudged the required force to lift her arm and smacked herself in the face, nearly falling in the process despite Titon's support. "Maybe you should avoid any big movements," the thief added after the disastrous motion.
"What happened?" Vera asked, cognizant enough to realize short simple sentences were now her friends.
"You used an unfamiliar magic item without promoting," he said with a tone stinking of parental judgement. "You're lucky I wasn't training my constitution, or you might've literally fallen apart."
"Not explaining," Vera said, struggling to keep up with the tangential topic.
"You must be okay if you're badgering me to explain faster." Vera's core muscles were tired of holding her up, and she let herself collapse back, Titon not stopping her once he saw it was intentional.
"Are you sure she'll be alright?" asked Titon, his brows crinkling. "She's been asleep for hours now and she still seems out of it."
"Yeah, bud. She's out of the woods now. She's just gotta fight off the rest of the poison," said Riley as he pat the larger man on a high shoulder.
"I thought you said it was magic," said Titon, with a hint of suspicion.
"It's a magic poison," said the shapeshifter smoothly. "Would you mind giving me a few minutes to talk to her?" he asked, continuing when Titon began to protest, "It's Adventuring Corps business." The large man protestations died with a wary look and he moved away.
"I'll just be right over here," he said. His words were quickly followed by a loud crash, but Vera didn't bother with endeavouring to discover its source.
"Despite your friends suspicions, it really is a magic poison you shoved in yourself." The shapeshifter stood over her, the position thoroughly ominous despite his amiable expression.
"Why?" Vera asked. She'd have preferred to ask a more deliberate question, but her tongue was still not her own.
"To build a tolerance," he answered, flexing a muscle as if it would explain. Vera's brow remained wrinkled with confusion. "If you get used to the poison," he said, gesturing to her, "when you're not poisoned, you get stronger." He waved his clawed hand. "Or faster, or smarter, or whatever."
"That's stupid," said Vera. It was the most eloquent she'd been so far.
"No, what's stupid is taking a dose meant for me, when you have absolutely no resistance." He raised his eyebrow in a mixture of concern and curiosity. "You're genuinely lucky you didn't die with that dosage."
"I'm feeling lucky," Vera replied with a raised thumb.
"I'm sure," he said jokingly. "Don't try to move until you at least have a handle on you proprioception. You're out of the most danger, but try not to choke on your own tongue." Vera only nodded, not having a clue what proprioception was and suddenly very aware of her tongue.