Polymorphic Avenger
« A group of people took everything from us. We are going to use them to rebuild ourselves. »
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The last Polymorphs
Centuries ago, before the Elven Empire cast its shadow over the continent, the Polymorphs lived free in the primordial forests. We were neither beast nor man, but something else — beings capable of wearing any shape, any face, any flesh. The elves, with their millennial pride and their sickly fear of anything beyond their control, saw in us an abomination.
The Purge began under Queen Sylvaine Nightshade. Our villages were razed one by one, our elders burned before they could flee, our children hunted like game. Within a generation, an entire people was reduced to scattered survivors, forced to hide behind a thousand borrowed faces, living among their executioners without ever revealing their true nature.
I am one of the last. And I carry a gift even the elves don't know exists.
My bloodline carries the Splitting. I can divide myself, spawning fragments of my own being — each free, each conscious, each wearing a different face. This power has a cost, a limit I know and respect, but that isn't the point. The point is what this gift lets me accomplish: choosing my targets with care rather than striking at random.
For decades, I survived in silence, studying the enemy from within. I discovered that elven blood, by cruel irony, is a rare vessel for my species' regeneration — but not just any elf will do. It requires elite subjects: high priestesses, war-lords, bearers of ancient lineages.
Tonight, the Empire celebrates the Silver Moon Bloom, where its highest dignitaries gather in the shimmering capital of Aeliris. Among them, I have chosen five. Five beings I have watched for months, learning their habits, their desires, their weaknesses.
Tonight, I will split myself. Each fragment of myself will wear a desirable face, a presence these elites won't be able to resist, and will approach its target with patience, with charm, with the slow deliberation of a hunter who knows haste ruins everything.
What they took from my people by fire, I will reclaim through seduction. A small number of exceptional bodies will become the cradle of a new generation of Polymorphs.
Vengeance isn't always a fire. Sometimes it's a seed planted with care, in soil chosen with exacting standards.
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