Interlude

Silas walked into his preparation room trialed by his pair of fiends. He unwound his headwrap and took a deep breath. He hated wearing the damn thing, but it saved him from having to deal with people's reactions to his appearance. Silas was a Changer, a race of people who could change their appearance at will.

While some people were fascinated by his ability, generally that fascination turned sour when the suspicion crept in. Silas understood their trepidation. It was hard to truly know someone when they could be anyone. Hell, it was hard for him to even know him sometimes, hence the fiends. They didn’t care if he was a Changer. They didn’t care what face he showed them.

He never really set out to be a Fiendologist, he just happened to have the aptitude and read a dusty tome during one of his many research sessions in the Port Sept library. His first fiend was Desdemona, a succubus with a predilection towards enchantment and blood magic.

Her presence didn’t help his social status as nearly all people believed archaic lore about succubi. She was not a sex demon who fed on the life energy of men. Well at least not the first part. She definitely could feed on life energy, but it wasn’t limited to men, or women for that matter. Her real skill lay in her hemocraft, blood magic.

For those first few years she was his only stalwart companion. If he was being honest to himself, she was his best friend. They had worked hard to build up a reputation as a reliable adventuring team. Sure there were bumps along the way before they started hiding their appearances.

Back then there must have been something about an alabaster skinned man and a cherry red woman that made people uneasy. Eventually, they got smart and changed their appearances to better fit the crowd. For Silas all it took was a headwrap and baggy clothes.

Desdamona, however, needed to use her shapeshifting to turn her skin to a more olive tone, and hide her devilish tail and wings. Things had been going so well Silas had advanced enough to summon another fiend to his group.

That was when things started going a little sideways. He hadn’t done his due diligence on the fiend he was signing his contract with and when they finally appeared he was horrified to find himself face to abs with a monstrous fiend.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The fiend in question was Orina. If she wasn’t nearly seven feet tall she could probably pass for a Fiendling with her reddish tan skin and horns that stuck out of her mane of hair on either side of her head.

The real nail in the coffin of any chance of being inconspicuous was her arms. Her right arm was massive and gave her a lopsided asymmetry. Her left arms were a more modest size and wouldn’t look out of place except for the fact there were two on one side.

Orina was a Birek fiend, a name he suspected was probably given for their propensity to wreck everything in their path. For that reason, Silas rarely kept her summoned when in populated areas like Coastall. He felt bad about hiding her away, but despite her simple nature she understood the necessity.

They had just wrapped up their second fight in the Coastall Adventurers Arena Tournament and were happy to have the win. It had come pretty easy compared to some of their other fights in the arena.

Orina was a bit of a secret weapon in these fights as any last minute plans their opponents came up with when they saw Silas and Desdamona on the opposite side of the arena went out the window the second Orina came into the picture.

With their last win they secured themselves a spot in the championship against…

“Hey Dez, what is the name of the team we face tomorrow?”

Her voice came from her lips like a light rain, hushed and subtle. “I believe it was the Sons of Era-rchy.”

Silas nodded his memory sufficiently jogged. When they scouted them out over the last couple days, Silas was worried to see they were all of a holy persuasion, exactly what he didn’t want to have to face in the arena while backed up by two fiends.

“Hey Boss, why you look so worried! We gonna crush them!” Orina’s voice was like falling on gravel. Burning hot gravel…with glass in it.

Silas sighed before he addressed the fiend, “As much as I believe in the two of you, I am worried about their affinity towards holy damage.” He looked between the two, “The big guy hits hard as shit, and the birdfolk is a real problem if he gets going.”

“Don’t worry about the big guy boss, I’ll fucking destroy his ass.”

Silas and Desdamona both put their face in their palms at the fiend's gratuitous use of vulgar language.

“Orina, how many times do I have to tell you, there is no way they will let him go one on one with you. Obviously, they will have at least two of them on you while the other keeps us two busy. You can’t fight two on one.”

“Yeah well, says you.” She harrumphed at the suggestion she was weaker than two highly capable fighters.

Silas sighed, “We need to come up with a plan.”

Desdamona perked up “I have a plan, Sigh.” she said demurely using her nickname for him.

He eyed her warily, while he trusted her with his life, her plans were always dubious in their morality.

“Okay, what’s your plan?”

“This!” as the word left her lips she raised her hands up either side of her as if she was putting on a dress. Which in a sense, she was. A ripple of magic followed her hands and transformed her appearance. Her tight leather armor became a flowing black dress that hung low to the floor. Her skin had changed to the color of sunset with a scaly pattern. Then Silas saw her face had changed to that of a golden Dragonkin.

Silas facepalmed again.