The swirling mist of your form compact into a small orb and slows as it thickens into a viscous fluid. Your thoughts grow sluggish as well. Bubbling pulses of potential ripple through your protean essence.
Your awareness stretch to encompass the bones forming underneath the silvery surface, then the fleshy sinew connecting and rearranging them into a skeletal structure. The fluid swells to encompass the circumference of your rib cage. Lyrical but malicious laughter bubbles forth from a newly formed mouth. You take impish joy in seeing the sphere-like miniature human with their tiny limbs and a bump-like head roll around floating in the air before realizing that it's you. Immediately your slimy lips curve up in disgust, revealing a pair of wicked incisors in the rows of regular teeth inside your half-formed mouth. Luckily, only the robed Overseer was there to see your indignity. With an effort of pure will, you force your skeleton to complete its transformation.
The metamorphosis continued. It ebbed and flowed according to some arcane design you could hardly begin to fathom. At times you were able to influence the mercurial chrysalis as it sculpted your new body. It came as a surprise when the liquid finally retreated: The color of your black hair is glossy and deep; the strands shimmer as if set with the night sky itself. Even at rest, your pale elfin features are as hard as a diamond, with equally harsh edges. Oh, beautiful and dangerous! Your glowing icy eyes are haughty, able to stare down even an ogre – a feat considering your significantly shortened stature. You judge that you are no more than two feet in height.
Utterly fascinated by the changes so far, you were eager to inspect the rest of yourself. With the liquid leaving no attire behind, you were as naked and hairless as the day you were born. Only suitable for your rebirth. You realized there had been changes to your mind as well. The sharpened tips of your black nail traced a fading scarlet path along your lightly muscled stomach as you reflected on that fact. But the mental alterations felt as natural to you as your lithe waistline and thighs did, so you didn't mind overly much. Probably to help you adjust to the game. You twisted limberly in the air, performing toe-curling aerial acrobatics as if they were second nature to get a better view of your sex and an adorable heart-shaped ass. You grinned. Your breasts filled your cupped hands perfectly. The pigmentation of your nipples and areola were a dark blue-gray, the same frozen shade as your puffy labia, lips, and a treacherous sheet of ice.
You felt the liquid pool on your upper back separate into two, then four fragments. You arched your back, shivering as you felt them slither up your shoulder blades. They telescoped out in a quartet of spines; intricate patterns formed as thin tendrils extended in thousands of directions along their length. Droplets filled the open sections of the spider webs, becoming transparent and membranous as they froze into place. The scintillating, insectile wings brimmed with magical energy with the excess shed as glittering motes. And, reflecting your malevolent existence, the fairy dust shone with a baleful and cold light.
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Dementia “Demi” Iceblossom, Female Unseelie Pixie, Lvl 3 Spellthief
Health: 100%; Mana: 100%
Status Effects: Corrupted (Curse)
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The Overseer's golden mask was at a slight tilt as they watched you open your character screen. Instead of a dried parchment scroll and letters in ink, glowing etched runes were inscribed in partially frozen stone slabs. They changed whenever you switched screens, flowing like water. As expected, your physical attributes were low compared to your mental and even higher social values – except those derived from agility, naturally. But you guessed the other physical stats still sat slightly above average for other monsters your size and level. The slivers of trepidation lodged in your heart fell gradually away as you convinced yourself you wouldn't tear as easily as a leaf from the first Elrad farmer thrusting their pitchfork at you.
The concerns were entirely forgotten about as you flicked between the Magic and Skills pages. You could fly above their silly little heads and throw Icicles at them. Your mind spun with the potential combinations of the few Ice, Dark, and Illusion spells you had access to. At all those pranks that you could play on those mortals as you schemed and plotted your way to completing the Main Quest. And the Skills were impeccably suited for a seductive and backstabbing trickster like yourself. It was a fair exchange for a weakness to Cold Steel, and Fire, as contradictory as those sounded together.
You landed gracefully on your petite feet, folding your wings behind you. With a pirouette, you equipped a Gothic dress you had found in your inventory and a pair of daggers. The hem of the short skirt fluttered in the air as you spun around. A slight breeze gathered underneath the dress and brushed against your exposed slit, making it twitch.
After the flush in your cheeks settled, you nodded to indicate you were ready to begin. As the Overseer graciously swept a robed arm toward the mirror, it shimmered, becoming a portal take you to the village outskirts. You could see a muddy outline of the trio of imps waiting for you. The slimes might be the pair of indistinct lumps rolling around. “Open your Quest Log and accept the quest.” After doing as they had asked, the mirror cleared, and you could see the monstrous group with perfect clarity. “Seek me out once you return. This is only the tutorial, and we still have much to discuss.”
Stepping through the portal felt like submerging yourself in water. And, from somewhere in the distance, you could hear a voice. “May you serve the Demonic Empire well, young faerie.”