Natasha the Halve

Three figures walked through the forests to the north of Lakeview. Their white-bluish skin, hair, and eyes were a dead give-away in the green environment, yet no creature gave them attention.

The shortest of the group walked at the back, the tallest in the middle, and the other one that didn't stand out that much walked at the front.

They had failed their mission. The outcome was expected nonetheless, so that in itself wasn't of much concern. The main objective was to gauge their target and get an initial impression. And an impression they got.

The Bond with the sleeper agent had been forcefully severed by an external source. That was not expected, and had botched years of planning.

“I hate summer,” the shortest one let out an irritated sigh, glaring at the suns high up in the sky. “Can't wait for winter!”

“Now that's just ignorant,” the one in the middle laughed. “Summer is objectively the best season.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” the one at the front hissed while turning around. Giving each a glare, the individual snorted before continuing, “Everyone knows Spring is best.”

The other two let out mocking snorts.

“You get the best fashion during winter,” the one at the back argued. “While you can only wear a single layer during summer.”

“Then level up and wear whatever,” the one in the middle shook their head. “Summer fashion is by far the most comfortable. If you change into a woman, wear dresses or skirts. If you change into a man, wear shirts and shorts.”

“That's just retarded,” the one at the front spoke up in a dismissive tone. “Wearing a skirt is a man's birthright. The testicles get uncomfortably sweaty if you cover them up in this heat.” they gestured to the suns. “Everyone benefits from the freedom a skirt brings. Shorts are good if you expect to move a lot, but nothing else.”

“I have to agree with that,” the one at the back spat at the one in the middle. “I didn't expect you of all Changelings to give clothes gender specific users. What will you wear if you change into an Aristi?” the question was loaded with contempt.

“Robes,” the one that started the whole debate gave an answer that shut them up. After waiting for a few seconds in case the other two had anything to say, a smirk met the silence. “Thought so. Robes are truly the perfect garment. Is it too hot? Wear a thin robe. Is it too cold? Wear a thick robe. If you change into any sex, your genitals will be free either way. You should already know this, you aren't young.”

“But you can't wear different clothes if you wear a robe,” the one in the back whined. “What about mixing lower garments with upper garments? What if you change into a person with a complex sense of fashion? Did you even see the Satyr back at the tavern?”

The one in the middle clicked their tongue. “Then you have to keep up with that rainbow of colors he wore. We could count ourselves lucky we only changed into waitresses.”

The other two muttered words of affirmation.

The three were Changelings, a species that could shape-shift into any person they touched, mirroring the appearance of their target. The reason the three were of different heights was to cover any possible species they may encounter.

A Dwarf? Let the shortest one handle that.

A Lupum? Let the middle-height one handle that.

A Satyr? Let the tallest one handle that.

Masters of disguise, they infiltrate towns and set their machinations in motion. Following a Changeling is discouraged, as they can easily lose the tracker if they enter a crowd. Unless you're an experienced Archer with an especially outstanding tracking skill, never chase a Changeling.

Like the Elmari Elf they saw in town. A shiver went up their spines when they saw her.

Their names were Yugulari, the tallest one. Thavas, the shortest one. And Pneumix, the one in between.