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The Changeling Warlock

The life of a changeling isn't a pleasant one to begin with. My kind-- They're not exactly persecuted, but they are always met with suspicion. No one trusts someone that could be practically anyone. Looking back on it now, I can understand the perspective. But, as a kid, growing up around others of my kind, it didn’t seem unusual. We’d play games where we looked like others that we thought were funny or interesting. I traveled with a group of entertainers. A lot of them were family to each other. My parents had joined the troupe before I was even born, and I was born into it. They traveled around, entertaining various towns and villages. I was young, but later I learned that they had to travel, as many troupes like that did, because staying too long in one place would create trouble. Always. Most villages were okay with an entertainment group stopping in for a night or two, but longer than that and the locals start to get restless.

I was young when I was with the troupe. I recall that fateful day when my parents had to go into town for supplies. Always eager to see new things, they brought me along with them. Some villagers get nervous about people like us after being in their village for a day or two. Some don’t take that long. I don’t remember if my parents just went down the wrong road, or just hit a patch of bad luck, but they ran into a small group of rogues that decided they didn’t like that we were there, and they were happy to express their displeasure in a most physical way. It didn’t matter that I was a child, to them changelings weren’t real people. Not that we went out as changelings, mind you. No, we always tried to blend in with the public as best we could. Maybe they followed us from the camp where we had set up, or maybe we just stuck out more than we realized. I couldn’t say for certain how they knew, but they knew. It was obvious from the slanderous things they said as they beat me and my parents with large sticks and other instruments of destruction. It wasn’t long before I was knocked unconscious. I could only assume the same fate befell my parents. When I woke up, they were gone, and I had no idea where I was.

I was able to find my way back to the camp, but there was no telling how long I had been out because the troupe was well gone by the time I got there. I later learned that after the beating my parents had gotten, the rest were run out of town. It’s not that my parents left me behind, it just seemed they were unable to find me before they were completely chased out. Apparently, there had been a group of changelings that had come through a few years earlier with a lot of con jobs that lost a lot of the villagers their money, and they were still sore about it. I quickly learned that as much as I hid what I was before, it was even more important to do so now. Still, when you have the ability to be anyone you can, you utilize every ability you have available to you to survive, especially if you’re young and left all alone in a strange town. So, that’s what I did. I would shift and move to blend in, and often to try and play more on the sympathies of those around me. Even as a changeling, I was limited in what I could do. As a child, I couldn’t turn into a full-size adult. If I wanted to portray an adult, it would have to be from a smaller race, like the tieflings or gnomes. However, I found it was a lot easier to play on the sympathies if I was a wide-eyed elven child. The village was comprised of a lot of different races, but it was primarily human. Still, I found that the humans had a certain appeal to the elves. If only my race could have the same level of tolerance that they had for everyone else. I’m certain some elf had come through and caused problems for the villagers at some point, but they didn’t hold that against all elves… I digress.

I tried to make sure I never changed unless I was away from any watching eyes. Alas, the shadows also watch you, which I didn’t really understand at the time. There was a man who had seen me change. But, he wasn’t afraid of it, rather he saw a way to profit from it. He knew the potential of what was presented there. He approached me, very cautiously. He knew what I was, and what I could be. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t know the full extent of what I could do. He must have watched me for some time, because he knew a great deal about me. Thinking back on it now, I think he approached with such caution more to prevent frightening me than out of any fear for his own safety. He offered me a bit more of a stable life, if I would work for him. It certainly was better than begging in the streets. Turns out, he ran a small group of thieves and scoundrels. They ran all kinds of rackets, from conning people (in the best way possible), to pickpocketing, to intricate schemes. He wasn’t exactly a highly trusted individual in the village but seemed to be mostly tolerated. I keep saying it was a village, but it was a decently large city. It’s not like everyone knew everyone else, so one like him was able to fade into the crowd, for the most part. But, because he was more well known than he’d liked, he had taken to training others to do what he could do and go out and work for him. And someone that could constantly change how they looked? That would make the jobs all the easier. From him I learned a lot, and it wasn’t all questionable in morality. He may have been a thief, but he stood on a strong moral code, which built upon the lessons of kindness I had been taught by the changelings that originally had raised me. Never steal from those who have your back was a big lesson learned. Never steal from the poor. Never resort to violence unless truly necessary. Unfortunately, in our line of work, violence was necessary more often than any of us would have liked. If he ever killed a guard that was about to lock him up, I never knew about it. Rather, he taught how to evade, how to escape. Yet, we also learned how to fight because sometimes it was necessary. He taught that it was possible to fight without killing someone. I never got in very well with the combat lessons, but I learned enough to survive. With my skills, evasion was a lot easier than fighting.

I spent several years within that ‘organization’. After a while, it became like a kind of family. But, as people would come in, and some would leave, there was the occasional reminder that even though we lived in this lifestyle, nothing was permanent, nothing was promised. I took on all types of forms, depending on the job at hand. There was one where I took the shape of a merchant’s child, and a knife was put to my neck, and he was told if he didn’t pay immediately, that my throat would get slit. Of course, he paid. And once I was released to him, he seemed so relieved. It didn’t take long for me to slip away, even from his overly protective gaze. I could only imagine his reaction when he got home and found that his actual child had been there all along. It was always some kind of job like that. Though, as I got older, it became more difficult to pull off a child’s form. That’s when the schemes started to become more elaborate, more mature. I may have been a mid-teen, but by that point I was able to take shape of any kind of adult, whether it be seductive, threatening, charismatic, you name it. Anything the boss needed; I could do. Except, of course, the old child schemes. I could no longer go that small.

Then, one day, the boss asked if I would like to live a life of luxury. He said it meant losing one of his best talents, but there was a rich politician that was willing to pay a lot of money for a young, pretty thing. To be clear, I was born as a male, and always felt most comfortable within my male roles. But that was hardly necessary. I’m not sure the boss ever really identified me as any specific gender and saw me just as fluid as if I had no preference at all. To him, it didn’t matter what the role called for, because no matter what the job, I was always down to do what needed to be done. He told me this role would be beneficial to us both. He would get a substantial finders fee, and I would live the rest of my life in the lap of luxury. All I had to do was come across as some buxom wench with a pretty face. Sure, that was easy to duplicate. The offer certainly sounded ideal. I no longer had to steal. I no longer had to live in a room with several other filthy vagabonds. I tell you; we were all one step above homeless. I’m fairly certain we had just taken some abandoned building and laid claim to it. So, sure, I was sold off to the politician. During that time, I learned a bit more about how to use my charms. I learned the importance of appearance. Society is a very superficial thing. He was a politician, so I was able to learn a bit about how things worked within that kind of arena. Unfortunately for me, he was also abusive. I knew I couldn’t just run away. I feared that he would talk to my former boss and find out exactly what I was. I could probably hide for a bit, maybe even make it to a different town. Looking back, maybe I should have tried that. But, instead, my youthful mind came up with a different idea. After a few months of us being together, I finally got tired of what he had done to me. So, when I came to bed, I no longer had the genitals he had grown used to using. Yeah, that’s right, my lovely, perfect feminine form had a large bulge in the pants. Imagine his surprise. He wasn’t happy about it. I’ll be honest, at the time I wasn’t even thinking how I was going to try to explain it, so when he came up with the idea that I had found a wizard to change me, I went along with it. The funny part was when he started going to every magic shop in town, trying to find out how to change me back. Every wizard and sorcerer he had encountered seemed disgusted at the idea of even attempting such a thing. Which, in hindsight, seemed a bit transphobic, but I think the disgust was more a façade to hide the fact that they just couldn’t perform that kind of magic. Oh, several of them tried to ‘dispel magic’, and other magic removing attempts, but of course each one of those attempts resulted in failure. He did find one mage that was willing to make the attempt. To be honest, the poor wizard succeeded in transforming my form back to a complete female, but before my ‘husband’ was able to see the results, I was able to regrow that which had been taken from me. It made the successful wizard feel like a failure, but it was a sacrifice I had to make.

The politician wasn’t too happy to be married to a transvestite and ended up nullifying the marriage. Unfortunately, he also expressed his disappointment and anger to my former boss. So, that meant I couldn’t return to that lifestyle, either. This put me back on the street, once more, just as I had been before. But this time, I was on the street with a lot more skill and knowledge than I had before. Being older and more knowledgeable of the world and having lost my reputation and standing with my place in this city, I decided it was time to move on. I had to hand it to my former employer, though. He never once revealed what I was to anyone else. I think it was a secret he appreciated having over everyone else. Most people just thought it was some disguise or magic that transformed me to other appearances. For some reason, no one ever asked why they couldn’t just have the same thing done to them. Either way, it was time to move on.

Without the protection and guidance of my boss, I found life to be a bit more challenging. I had several cold nights sleeping outside. At first, I found that an effective way for a warm meal and a roof over my head, at least for a night. That was one thing I got from the relationship with the politician; I learned the effectiveness of an attractive woman. But, after a little while, I also realized that the free meal came with certain expectations, and some guys did not take ‘no’ for an answer. There were times that I had to get creative to keep from revealing my changing nature. I found the technique I used for the politician had mixed results on others and would often result in a violent ending. It didn’t take long before I started looking for other methods of survival. One day, I approached a blacksmith, just looking for a job. I figured he needed someone strong, so I made myself look as beefy as he did. Unfortunately, looking like you’re strong and being strong aren’t the same thing. I lasted about a day in that job before he told me he needed someone with actual strength, and not just someone with “show muscles”. In an act of desperation, I found myself breaking into the house of a wealthy local merchant. I couldn’t tell you what he did, but it turned out he was wealthy enough to hire security for his mansion. The hired security did not take too kindly to my intrusion. This is what would be considered my low point. After all my illegal activities with a thieves guild, I did not once get put into prison. I tried to evade the security, but I must give them credit, they were good at their jobs. I couldn’t even lose them enough to alter my form and act like I was someone different. I was captured and placed into prison before I could offer up any significant resistance. Once in prison, maybe I could have used my abilities to get me out, but the thought often occurred… What then? At least in the prison I was no longer out in the cold, I was no longer starving. I was used to living in similar conditions when I was with the guild. Still, there was a sense of freedom that I had known all my life that was now lacking.

I never considered myself a religious person. The Gods know there’s plenty of deities and entities within the world to give praise to. But I never had the time nor inclination to give such things any consideration. Besides, what god would create a creature like the changeling? But, once in prison, I had plenty of time to contemplate such things… It was upon a night of prayer and meditation that I was visited by a strange entity. No, not a strange entity, a terrifying one. It was a creature the likes of which I had not seen before. But I knew enough of the stories to know this was a demon. He emanated a dark aura, a sensation that was felt more than it was seen. He described himself as a creature of Shadowfell. I had to admit, I didn’t even know what that meant, as I had never heard of such a place before. The demon explained how such matters were unimportant, and how he could imbue me with the powers to escape my current fate. Maybe I was bitter, or maybe I had just lived too much life at that point to take such things at face value, but I instantly questioned the demon’s motives, knowing none would offer up such power for nothing. When I inquired about the cost, the demon simply asked if it mattered, asked if it could be any worse than my current fate? I looked around. I was imprisoned, had no family, no friends, no prospects for my future; nothing. The demon had presented a fair point. What did I have to lose? He promised that I would become a warrior of the darkness, that I would fight for the shadows. And when the powers of Shadowfell had need for my services, I would be beholden to those armies, and promised to fight by their side. Until that time, my mission was to grow in strength and influence, so that when the time came, I would be something worth having given power to. I was quite skeptical, but also trapped. What other choice did I have? I could have served my time, but the wealthy merchant I attempted to rob was very well connected, and my sentence was open ended. Meaning, there might not have been a release date at all. Not only would it potentially free me from my bondage but would offer me some sense of purpose in my life. I accepted the offer. No sooner had I said the words, then a torrent of wind picked up in my small cell. Immediately, I could feel a surge of power within me. This wasn’t like the ability to manipulate others through persuasion or physical action. No, this power was something deeper, some mystical. He told me I would never have the power of a well-educated wizard, but I had the natural ability of a sorcerer, and I would have the combat prowess that either of them could only ever dream of. Sounded like a good deal to me.

After the demon disappeared, I looked in my cell and wondered what my next action would be. I had power, but I had no idea what to do with it. My first objective was to get out of my cell. I could feel a call within me. I focused on the lock, concentrating upon it… I was astounded when it opened. It worked. I had a power I could only have dreamt of before. Guards started to approach me with weapons drawn. I sent a blast of arcane strength at them, knocking them out, each one at a time. With the guards knocked out, I was able to take the form of one of them, stealing his armor and easily making my way out of the rest of the prison.

I was free, and now I had *power*. But even I knew I was weak compared to other creatures of the arcane. My first move was to immediately leave the town, get away so that the guards couldn’t catch me. Obviously, they’d be looking for the form I had taken when I was arrested. The good part of me refusing to change form to escape before was that they had no idea what I was. Meaning, changing form now made it all the easier to disappear. And disappear I did. I found a town with a large mystic’s library. I spent days, weeks, maybe even months, pouring over the tomes, learning everything I could about the power I now wielded. I learned greater details of the shadowy planes of Shadowfell. I learned to better hone what few abilities I had. I learned what I could become. With renewed vigor, I found myself more cautious, and pulling me to learn tricks to keep myself alive. With my new power, I even gained greater control over people with the power of my persuasion, becoming quite effective at convincing others to do what I wanted them to do. I had a purpose that I never had before. I even began to contemplate looking for the family I had lost. But I wasn’t there, yet. I knew I was just beginning, and I still had a long way to go. I knew learning more in dusty old books was never going to get me where I needed to be. I needed to practice. I needed to gain some real-world experience. Of course, utilizing such abilities against common townsfolk would be easily frowned upon. No, an adventure was needed. But first, I needed to figure out who I was, or at least what kind of persona I was wanting to take on for such a journey.

I admired the mages, and I found those of greatest significance, of highest renown and power were the old and wizened haired mages. In my youth, I remembered the love that was often bestowed upon the elves. So, I decided to take up the form of a youthful elf with white hair. I looked in a mirror and changed and altered every detail of my face until it was practically perfect by every standard one could feasibly adhere to. My parents had named me Jeth. For a while that was what I had gone by. It was my boss in the thieves guild that had renamed me to something more common; Jareth. He even gave me his last name, Nilbog. On my long journey, I frequently contemplated my morality. I remembered what the thieves had taught me, what the acting troupe had taught me. I remembered how to not resort to violence or bring harm to those you were to trust. But, I also remembered the lessons of life, and how trust was not something easily nor quickly given. And, on top of that, I would always hear the shadows whispering within my head… They did not inspire great morality within me. They offered a much greater sense of violence within my thoughts. The voices of the shadows are now always there, fighting for me to succumb to their dark desires. I have to admit, they certainly make a solid argument, but I remain strong in my convictions. At least for now.

When I learned of some mystical hardship that had befallen Icewind Dale, I decided that could be where I may be able to increase my power and hone my abilities. It seemed like just the ideal challenge that was exactly what I was seeking. And, who knows? Maybe taking on the role of a hero instead of the thief could be a great turn for my life. A chance to be someone new, to start over again. That is, after all, what the changelings are best at.