Quith remained motionless, face first in the dirt. He blocked out the throbbing in his head and focused all of his attention on listening to his target and her party move further away. Once, they were well out of earshot he released his breath and laughed. He flinched as the motion unleashed a wave of pain from his skull, this only made him laugh harder.

Joy filled his body, he was alive when the others were not. Once again the favor of the Everchanger fell upon him, just like it had when he had first begun to change. It was due to his gifts that he was alive, the hardened skin, the dense metallic bones, and countless other boons made to ensure he lived, and alive he was where the others have failed.

The raw ecstasy of being right burned through his body. All of the pain, the twisting of his flesh, the rejection of his peers had all been for this moment. Guilt replaced holy fervor as he remembered every time he doubted the lord of mutation, the lady of bent bone, the hermaphrodite of metamorphosis, the one who is many: his god the Everchanger.

He scrambled to his feet, there was work to be done while his prey still lived. He surveyed that situation. His brothers and sisters in faith laid in pile their blood pooling underneath.

He shook his head only to wince. He moved his hand to where the armor-clad brute had tried to brain him. He felt a wet mess of bone and blood.

Well, that won’t do.

He walked to the tall grass and kneeled, he extended his mana towards the roots shaping it as he did. Soon the spell was complete and a tangled ball of mana-infused roots burst from the soil. He grabbed it, pushed it against his wound, closed his eyes, and chanted. He gritted his teeth in pain as the roots worked into his head, knitting together to hold his bones back in place. Soon the wound was replaced with a scab made of root.

Next, he looked to his dead saying a funerary chant for each before searching them for valuables.

Now ready he closed his eyes and chanted the litany of 1000 faces. He felt divine power enter his body and twist his flesh. He held the image of a bent old man in his mind's eye as the power burned through him.

When finished he pulled out a pocket mirror and looked. A normal dirty grey man greeted him in the reflection.

He laughed one last time before setting off down the road. He had a girl to kill.