Violet sat at her desk with a troubled brow, staring down at the job request in front of her. Most of the goblin’s clients were looking for monsters, and it was easy enough to find novice or down-on-their-luck adventurers who didn’t mind breathing fire for a few months in exchange for good pay and experience. Yet how was she going to find someone who wanted to become just a piece of armour?
Magical armour was pretty easy to come by — wizards kept enchanting the stuff almost as quickly as smiths forged it — and Violet’s store was stocked full of it. Intelligent armour, on the other hand, was a real rarity. There weren’t many sorcerers who could just create life just like that, and most tended to be armour possessed by their cursed former wearers, which was an ethical minefield Violet did not want to get into. So, transforming someone willing was about the only option… leading Violet back to her problem.
Still, Violet was nothing if not resourceful. Lifting a hidden trapdoor, Violet dropped to the floor below, landing with the grace of a seasoned rogue amongst the stacks of her adventuring supply store. Her other business venture, the cramped store was full of her miscellaneous plunder from years of dungeon delving: liberated spell-books, mostly-identified potions, forgotten relics, and (of course) stacks of assorted magical armour; now all available to adventurers for a modest fee. Naturally, it also doubled as her own emergency cache, just in case…
Squeezing herself between over-stacked shelves, Violet knelt in front of a chest packed with glittering gemstones: some mundane, most enchanted with some spell or other by wizards with too much time on their hands. After a few minutes of rummaging, she found her prize: a calling stone. Carved from emerald into a rough ring, its runes glowed faintly in the morning’s light. They were meant for times of distress, reaching across space and planes to find someone able and willing to solve any problem you had. Maybe it was overkill, but Violet was sure it would do the trick, snapping the stone as she concentrated on the job request…
Electricity filled the air, Violet’s hair prickling, sparks dancing between anything metallic, arcing between sword blades and armour. A loud crack echoed through the store, shaking the shelves, and sending loose scrolls flying through the air. When the chaos settled, Violet found herself staring at a human figure, looking around with confusion.
“What…” he mouthed, struggling to find the words, eyes darting about the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. His gaze finally settled on Violet, jumping back with visible alarm. Just moments ago, he’d been sitting in front of his computer, ready to fire up a video game, only now it seemed he was in one.
“Oh, sorry,” Violet said, putting on her best reassuring smile, trying to make herself look non-threatening. Not every realm was as welcoming to all peoples as hers, she thought to herself, perhaps it was his first time seeing a friendly goblin face? Still, where was he from… his clothes were so simple, yet clearly well-dyed… his shirt was emblazoned with a colourful double-N, perhaps a herald of a distant kingdom, “I’m Violet, and welcome to Castlehaven…”
“Er, Chris” the human spoke, a little hesitantly, still trying to wrap his head around things. Stepping through the store, and talking with a real-life goblin, there seemed little doubt he really was in a fantasy world… somehow, “so, not Kansas, then?”
"Ah, no,” now Chris was here, Violet was struggling to find the right words, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you here, but I need help. It’s a bit silly, but I need someone to become some enchanted armour for a customer…” she let the words hang, expecting the worst.
“Sure!”
“I know it sounds extreme, though it’s only for six months, and-” Violet stopped, Chris’ enthusiastic reply catching her off-guard, “you will? Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Chris nodded… here in a strange land, he wouldn’t exactly cut it as a real adventurer, so what better way to see the world?
“In that case…” Violet’s face slowly broke into a grin, relief washing over her, “if you’ll just follow me upstairs… I’m afraid there’s some paperwork to do.”
A short time later, Violet tidied away a bundle of scrolls, fresh with Chris’ shaky signature (first time using a quill, apparently). She’d expected him to be a little more hesitant, but at least he was asking more questions than the average fighter she’d turned into a troll, “so even though you’ll mostly be along for the ride, the armour’s enchantment relies on your instincts to better protect your wearer from attacks… make sense?”
Chris nodded along, doing his best to take it all in, studying the small bottle Violet had offered him. It swirled in the lamplight, glittering motes of silver in a murky grey liquid; like molten metal, he thought.
“Well, I guess that’s everything, so whenever you’re ready. Be careful, tho-” Violet stopped short again, watching Chris quickly down the potion, still so eager. Violet braced herself.
The potion stung as Chris drank it down, the taste of rust and ash, the warmth of a cooling fire. Seconds later Chris was coughing and spluttering, the empty bottle falling from his hands.
“It has a kick,” Violet stifled a laugh. The more powerful the potion, the more it tended to fight on its way down, and turning someone into an inanimate object was no simple magic.
The magic surged through Chris’ body, carrying a warmth through him, permeating every part of him. Skin tingled and prickled, hairs standing on end. The potion’s magic lifted him, leaving his feet dangling in the air. Violet leaned back in her chair, watching Chris looking down at himself with a mixture of alarm and curiosity; it wasn’t often she had a front-row seat to someone’s transformation.
“This feels… intense…” Chris gasped, words catching in his throat, his breathing slow and sluggish. Deep inside, the potion was working its magic, bones and organs fading away, no longer required for his new form… his new purpose. Breaths ran shallow, heartbeat fading, a sense of peace and calm washing over him, quieting any panic he might have felt.
Even moving his arms was beginning to feel difficult, strength fading from his body. Everything seemed so peaceful and comfortable, despite the heat running through his body, and the strange changes already underway. It was as though his body was surrounded by a soft pillow of magic, supporting every inch of him, even as his body started to shrink.
Deflate was perhaps a better word, Violet considered, watching as the changes progressed. Those strange clothes hung limply over his shrinking body, already hanging off him. The heat filling Chris’ body intensified, a burning sensation across his skin. Flesh began to glow, the red-hot heat of a forge, the smell of hot iron filling the room. His shirt burned against his body, flames dancing from its tatters as it fell to the floor, leaving his torso bare.
A strange tightness gripped Chris’ chest, spreading out through his skin. The feeling of every part of him tugging and pulling, repeated over and over across his torso. Skin shifted to metal, soft flesh giving way to silvery metal, still glowing hot. Running a hand across his chest, Chris felt ridges and bumps forming under his fingers. A feeling as if a hundred invisible smiths were working his body, slowly forging the raw material of his body into something greater.
Inside, Chris could feel an empty feeling growing, a feeling of emptiness. His arms and legs slipped, hanging awkwardly from his body, with no strength left inside them as muscles and bones faded away. Then, a pulling sensation, drawing his legs upwards.
“This is intense,” Chris mouthed, craning his neck to try and get a better look at himself. He watched his jeans slip away from his body, tumbling to the floor, his legs bunching into themselves as they drew into his body. He felt his skin folding over itself, a strangely pleasant feeling considering, working its way inside out as it was pulled into his torso. Skin mingled with the metal his chest had become, the same fiery heat running through it as they joined together.
Chris felt the same tugging sensation reaching his hands, drawing them upwards, the soft clink of metal running against metal as they brushed his sides. An odd pulling sensation spread through each palm, skin painlessly splitting open, flesh turning to silver rings lining the edge. The more his arms draw upwards, the more the chain opened out, forming short sleeves at his sides.
Watching his hands fading away, Chris knew it wouldn’t be long before his head changed, still stuck so awkwardly atop his changing torso. The prickle of heat spreading up his neck, the sensation of flesh turning to metal. The taste of rust in his mouth. The urge to yawn, to open his mouth wide.
His head slipped backwards, mouth still wide open, colour draining from his face as it turned to shining silver. His vision seemed to swim, senses dulled as the transformation overtook them, nose and ears flattening against his face. His mouth stretched wider, head collapsing back, skin turning to metal rings as it pulled back against his torso. Soon, there was barely any trace left of his head, folding over and over to form an intricate band around the edge of his neck.
Just as it had shrunk, Chris’ body started to expand, magic pulling his body out in every direction. Metal skin started to shift and separate, circular whirls splitting apart into individual rings, pulling tight against each other. Chris could feel every part of him stretching and shifting, the chill of the air cooling his new body, the feeling of emptiness inside him growing. Individual rings danced and shifted, catching against each other, tugging as the magic pulled them out, and Chris could feel them all. Just when he felt his body was at its limit, now large enough to fit someone twice his old size, the magic finally subsided. His body slumped slightly, a subtle chorus of chimes as rings settled against each other.
To an unknowing observer, Chris was just a chain shirt, suspended in the air. Clearly of expert craft, the delicate links were fashioned to form detailed patterns around the edge of the neck and sleeves, shifting and dancing depending on what angle you looked at it. Simply armour, nothing human, nothing alive.
Of course, Chris was still very much alive, the potion’s magic weaving his consciousness through his transformed body. Gone were his old senses, replaced by a magical awareness of his surroundings, reaching out far beyond the walls around him to the teaming crowds bustling through the street outside.
“Perfect,” Violet whispered to herself, reaching out to lift Chris from the air. He felt himself slump, the weight of his transformed body freed from the magical suspension, rings free to shift and slide against each other. It was lighter than Violet expected, despite the size, “mithril! She’s going to be so happy, you’ve turned out well…”
Chris hung from Violet’s hands, almost brushing against the floor, and yearned to be worn.
A few hours later, Chris could sense someone approaching: large, powerful, and full of purpose. A short time later, heavy footsteps started to shake the store, potion bottles tinking together, and shocked voices called out from the crowd outside. Apprehension grew in Chris’ mind, his magical form on the constant lookout for danger.
“Hello!” came a cheery voice from the door, the grinning face of a cyclops peering round the corner, slowly and awkwardly followed by a muscular body that barely fit into the store. Her body was rugged and beefy, her ochre skin covered with the scars of many battles; though that hardly seemed to diminish her optimism, her eye opening wide as she spied Chris’ shining form.
“Good morning, Annes,” Violet replied, grinning at her friend’s enthusiasm, “I see you’ve spotted the latest ‘merchandise’”.
It was a little strange for Chris to think of himself as merchandise, but he didn’t seem to mind… his thoughts were too preoccupied with the thoughts of being worn by such a powerful figure, to go into battle with her, only hoping his magical form would last longer than the chain shirt she was wearing: rusted, pitted, covered in tears clumsily repaired with leather.
“May I…?” Annes asked, reaching out with hands that could have crushed Violet like a grape, fingers brushing against Chris’ mithril chains. A jolt of electricity crackled between them, fizzling from ring to ring. Chris’ mind reeled slightly, suddenly aware of thoughts that weren’t his own, the magic of his body already forming a bond with his wearer.
>Er… hello?< Chris thought, mentally calling out to her.
“Oh, is that you?” Annes asked the chain shirt, holding it out in front of her, letting it fall, “I… I’ve never had my armour talk to me before…”
“Don’t worry,” Violet chipped in, leaning back in her chair, “you get used to it after a while.”
>If it’s any comfort… I’ve never exactly been worn before.<
Annes paused a moment, just staring at the chain shirt, before bursting out laughing, “then it’ll be an adventure for both of us!”
The cyclops wasted little time in yanking her old armour off, slipping Chris on over the top of her undershirt. Chris felt his body twisted and tugged this way and that, links folding into each other, then stretching apart as his body slipped over hers. He could feel her starting to fill him, the bulk of her body inside him, his own metal skin conforming around her curves: the rise of her chest, the bulge of her muscles. He shifted with every tiny movement she made, rings slipping against each other, rising and falling with each breath. Even her warmth seemed to fill him, a growing feeling of satisfaction spreading with it. It felt good to be worn…
“How’s that? Comfortable?” Violet asked, peering up at Annes, unable to stop herself from admiring the curves of her body.
“Absolutely!” Annes and Chris said in unison, their thoughts already beginning to synchronise with each other, Annes’ relentless enthusiasm easily matched by Chris, “With armour like this, nobody can defeat me! I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together…”
And so began Chris’ adventures as enchanted armour…
It wasn’t long before Annes found herself on another adventure, delving deep into the dungeons below a forgotten watchtower, beset by monsters and undead alike.
With Chris’ help, Annes was able to avoid many ambushes, watch out for cunningly disguised traps, and dispel the dungeon’s many curses. And when combat was unavoidable, he was there to take the worst of the enemy blows. Each impact would shake his body, pressing him against Annes’ firm muscles, the force of the blow spreading out through his mithril rings. Each time it felt like he might be torn apart, the tip of a sword pushed too far, he seemed to rebound backwards - the same magic that had forged him keeping them both from harm. With each battle they fought, their bond grew. Chris learnt to anticipate Annes’ attacks, the way she moved with each strike, carrying his body with her own.
When each battle was won, each dungeon explored, and each boss valiantly defeated, Chris couldn’t wait for the next adventure…