Noctus Shadowspell wasn’t very highly regarded by the rest of elven society. He was born with the name Denar, Weaver of Fates. The North Star shone brightly on Denar, and the High Magistrate overseeing his birth gave him his grand title. Denar was to be a shrine hand to Aldos, Lord of Futures, and eventually the High Magistrate once he was old enough.

Denar, alternatively, had other ideas. He aspired to be an adventurer, one of those who traveled the countryside and saved people and had sex with beautiful maidens… all of which went against the teachings of Aldos. He dutifully followed his teachings, attended his chores, and assisted the elder monks carefully. He began to learn the arcane arts, practicing his clairvoyance and scrying, illusions and destructive arts. A star pupil in all regards, and one that the entire village spoke about.

One day during meditation, he allowed himself to astral project to a nearby town. It was a human village, and while this kind of activity wasn’t explicitly banned, there was concern that young acolytes would become swayed and lose their path to Aldos. Denar watched this town, as he did many times, watching the people who came and went. The people who, surreptitiously it seemed, met in the local tavern without ever having met, and left together with smiles and laughter as the new group of adventurers had already quickly bonded. Sometimes a fight in town would spur them together, and sometimes it would be a mission from the Lord of the region on a bulletin board they would decide to claim together.

“Oh, the life of an adventurer!” Denar proclaimed, although none would be able to hear his projection. He strolled into the tavern, his ghostly apparition hidden to the more tangible guests, and waited for the next scene to play out.

But it never did.

He sat meditating, watching the people around him. He watched how simple the strings that bound them together are, and saw how Aldos’s future was everywhere. He saw that his own future would bring him here to this tavern, although he was quick to chide himself. Fanciful thinking wouldn’t control the fates, and his place, much to his chagrin, belonged in the village shrine.

Denar sighed, and began to recall his astral form when he saw a glimpse of the future: bandits would come into the tavern and hold the barmaids hostage. Denar fought to cling to the location, looking in vain for the adventurers that had never met that day. He snapped back to his body, sweating and panting, and ran to the High Magistrate.

“High Magistrate Tomos, the village nearby is in trouble, we have to do something!”

“What, the human village?” The same High Magistrate who had titled Denar now looked down upon him, stroking his much grayer beard thoughtfully. “What business do we have meddling in their affairs? They have not assisted us when our crops ran out, or our wells dry. We have no future with the humans, nothing to bind us to them.”

Denar let out a frustrated sigh, but with a lone finger High Magistrate Tomos silenced him and continued speaking. “And how, young Weaver, would you know that the human village is in trouble? Have you been spending your meditations studying them, despite my...encouragements otherwise?”

Denar shook his head once, then thought for a moment and meekly nodded.

“Do not go to the town, Denar. You won’t see punishment for scrying, as we must all watch the strands of the future. But you can not go there yourself, nor will we send anyone else there.”

Denar lowered his head in a bow and was dismissed. He walked off to his quarters, and immediately began pacing. His thoughts were turmoil, he could not leave the humans to die, but he was forbidden from helping. He remembered the strand of his own future he saw, leading him down to the village. *Perhaps this is my moment?* he thought, finding clarity in his mind. *I’m the only one that knows what will happen, maybe I can prevent it…*

He buried his guilty heart in resolution, and searched his room for the darkest clothes he had. If he was doing this, he had to not be noticed. He donned his apparel and slinked out of his room, making his way to the boundaries of the village. He rushed down to the village in full flight, slinking into the shadows as best he could. He watched the bandits enter the dining hall, recognizing them from his vision, before slipping in behind them.

Denar found himself lost in a strange circumstance: he had no idea what to do next. Sure, the adventurers came to mind, he had seen many fights in this room alone that seemed to start their story. But what did he have that he could use to stop this? He crept along the side of the room before sitting at a table, getting an idea.

He stood at the same time as the bandits, focusing on the path he saw each take in the next moments. One straggled behind to keep the crowd under control, and Denar strode up to him. The bandit noticed him at the last moment, but the basic lightning spell that coursed through his body left him paralyzed. Denar grabbed hold of the man, slowly lowering him to the floor.

Next, the two hostage takers. At the right moment Denar cast a small illusionary spell over the men, each thinking they had taken their partner captive instead of the nearby barmaid. The bandits shoved away their correct targets and grabbed each other, wrestling each other to the ground before Denar rendered both unconscious with a single blow of his staff to each of them.

Denar breathed a sigh of relief, the tavern and its people were safe. It was a small encounter, and any adventurer with Denar’s level of expertise in the magical arts would have found it trivial to dispatch these men, but to Denar, this was a new high. He challenged the rules and accomplished something he never thought he could achieve. The innkeeper, roused by the news came into the tavern to take in the sight.

“You? You did this? Alone? Where are your friends?” he whispered, equally incredulous and surprised.

“I had no help. I just knew what would happen and had to help, that’s all,” Denar replied meekly. He glanced back to the exit, he had to hurry back to the village, if the High Magistrate knew he left, he could only imagine the worst would befall him.

The innkeeper let out a deep and booming laugh, and patted Denar on the shoulder, holding him present. “Take this before you go, you have our thanks.” The innkeeper pressed a single gold coin into Denar’s palm.

Denar hurriedly tucked into his pocket and took his thanks, running back to his village as quickly as he could. He made it back into the forest and through the gates, rounding through the doorway to his room, to find High Magistrate Tomos sitting on his meditation pad.

“Young Denar, welcome back.” Denar took a step forward and sought words to explain his absence, but a lone finger from the elder man cut him off.

“Don't. Don't lie or try to explain how you had to go. You made your decision, even after seeking my counsel. If you had left it alone, there would have been no trouble. You made your choice, now take your consequences.”

The High Magistrate rose, his legs slowly unfolding beneath him like a flower. “You have no home here, anymore. You chose to be an adventurer, now leave.” Tomos grabbed his staff and with a definite twirl over his head, struck the ground in front of him. Concentric circles spread out around Denar, runes and symbols glowing on the worn floorboards before suddenly, the floor vanished, and Denar was sent tumbling down.

As quickly as he entered the magical portal, he emerged out the other side, this new aperture now upright. He sprawled and fell face first into the cobbled stone road. Groaning he lifted himself to his feet, looking around. It was an alleyway, tucked away in the depths of a foreign city. He rubbed his head as he walked to the nearby street, watching the carts full of merchants driving past.

No one spoke Elven here, a fact only followed up with the obvious lack of elves here. Walking along the road, a man perched atop a horse wearing strange glossy armor approached the short, lost elf. His armor seemed to almost be made of glass its shine was so great, with its deep red and black tones almosting seeming to trap the man in a dark shadow.

“Stranger! You seem lost, can I help you?” The armored strange had deep booming voice, and for a moment Denar was reminded of the kind innkeeper.

“Yes sir, I don't quite know where I am. I was just at the --” Denar's voice cut off, and he tried to start again. “I’m sorry, I'm --” Once again, his voice was lost. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, trying to utter his own name, or any name from his past. It seemed his banishment had laid a curse on him.

His dismay was palpable in his voice. “I guess I just don’t know where I am…”

The larger knight laughed and patted Denar on the head. “Welcome to Newgale Port, kid. The name is Rex, I run the adventurer's guild in town. Come on by some time. You seem like you have some spirit in you.” He started off a few steps, before turning back. “And best hide those ears, kid. Not exactly welcome round these parts.”

With a twirl of his cape as his turned off he trotted along the street and vanished from sight as the crowd seemed to converge around him.

The day quickly turned to night, and Denar found himself unable to find lodging for the night. Night after night he spent on the cold ground outside, hiding amongst the boxes and trash in the alleyways, unwanted for his kind. He quickly learned that being sneaky and able to glimpse the future made for quite the good pickpocket and thief, and before long started to abscond with stray pieces of bread or fruit when he could find them. He no longer meditated to Aldos, but the coin the innkeep gave him on the day that changed his life. It became an icon to him, an idea of adventures and the life he once wanted to live. He focused on this singular idea more and more, the idea of becoming an adventurer with gold coin and living the great life one day, like Rex, or the adventurers he had scryed on all his life.

Denar found himself standing before the massive guild hall after some period of time in the city. His Elven crafted silk garments had long since deteriorated into wraps he tied to his arms over his new black ensemble. A small pouch at his hip held a small portion of food and his gold coin, all the possessions he had. A heavy wool hood drew up over his head and his his face and ears from casual glances, though his unkempt hair and dirtied face cast enough shadows over his appearance to deter strangers from many questions.

He entered and slipped inside. His Elven grace and dexterity had been instrumental in keeping people unaware of his comings and goings...unfortunately, it left the vaguely roguelike character alone in the main hall. Seconds passed without anyone approaching, and Denar began to look around. A bulletin board off to the side held local quests, as well as information about the area. One sheet newly pinned to the top of the board caught his eye, and he plucked the sheet to check it out.

***WARNING***

The treasure of the forgotten goddess Ozutuma is quite tempting. Antique gold in the ruins 50 miles north of the city has been valued at up to 1000 modern gold coin, and artefacts in the temple are substantially higher. DO NOT ATTEMPT JOURNEY. The layout of the temple is confounding and prohibits trespassers. The forgotten goddess Ozutuma is remembered historically for having strict acolyte and priesthood requirements and appears to have ancient enchantments on the temple ruins regarding this.

“Whatcha doin, kid?” Rex rounded the corner, seeing the shorter stranger in the entry hall. Denar spun on his heel, quietly sliding the paper into his pouch.

“Oh, uh, you told me to come by sometime.” Denar folded the hood back and held his hair back, revealing his longer pointed ears. “I’m… I’m Noctus Shadowspell.” He sighed. The name fit, and each time he said it it seemed to become more of who he actually was. It was just hard, giving up his old life that was slipping away day by day.

“Noctus, huh?” Rex rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You seem alright, kid. Can always use more types like you around. Someone that knows how to be quiet. You’re looking at the mission board, that’s a good start. When you see a bit more of the world, let me know, I might have a place for you on my team.” Rex chuckled and patted Noctus on the shoulder, flipping a gold coin in the air. As he walked away, he saw Noctus grab the coin out of the air nimbly, and chuckled: definitely room on his team for a kid that quick, just a little more experience is all he needed.

The young Noctus flitted outside the hall in a hurry, vanishing before Rex’s friends would be checking on the elf Rex was boasting about. After purchasing a couple quick provisions he set off, leaving Newgale Port in a similar rush.

The town was surrounded by thick tropical jungle, and the local roads were little more than dirt tracks with deep wagon wheel groves carved through them. Quickly Noctus was forging through the brush, pushing through the unkempt brush. It only took him a couple days of uneventful travel before he made it to the ruins. The stone walls provided better shelter than the tangled vines and brush of the jungle, and that night Noctus slept well. Away from the noise and bustle of the city, the vague ruins reminded him of his former home, with a serene tranquility there.

The next day, as he gathered his belongings, he found himself distracted by a path leading off further into the ruins. He felt the same instinctual tugging of fate, one he hadn’t felt this strong since his first venture out of the village. He stumbled forth in a daze, working through the labyrinthine ruins into a central chamber. There on a pedestal was a sceptre, suspending in the air and glowing peacefully with a dull orange hue. Every thread of his fate and future that he could see, in some way or another, led him to this sceptre. He studied it and the room for as long as he could, finding no other way: even if he left, he would return and take it eventually.

Noctus grabbed the black rod and examined it closer. It was a simple black rod that had a golden pommel at the base, and a ruby held in place at the tip of the staff by a more ornate golden bracket. He twisted it back and forth until the sceptre caught the light in its ruby. For a moment, he was dazed and fell backward… and kept falling.

In the physical realm, Noctus Shadowspell simply vanished, tumbling backward through what can only be described as an invisible portal.

In the spiritual realm, it was more complicated than that.

Noctus floated on a plane of energy in a void of seemingly nothing. The haunting echo of souls passed him by, leaving a fog in their wake. A massive being emerged from the nothingness, gliding into view by means unknown. Noctus struggled to his knees and lowered his head; before him was Aldos, Lord of Futures. He was similar to his portraits in the village shrine: a magnificent centaur whose arms were encircled in vines reaching out, representing his connection to the future. He stood with an impassive look on his face, looking past Noctus on the plane. Noctus tried to steal a look behind him, and caught sight of a frail woman, adorned with strappy and revealing garments that dangled off her frame like a wilted flower.

“This one is yours, Ozutuma. He was a faithful servant, but has been forbidden at my shrine by his people. He has a good heart, don't throw it away.” Aldo's spoke regal tones with opening his mouth, the empty space around him simply carried his words at his will.

Ozutuma, the long forgotten goddess, was not able to do the same. Her words left her lips on a stilted whisper, her will barely carrying in the air. “Thank you… Aldos. I will remember this kindness… that you showed this one… to my temple.”

Noctus looked back up and Aldo's was gone. In his place was Ozutuma. He had to remark, she was strikingly beautiful, even though her skin had long since gone gaunt and pale, and her lower half, that of a goat, had rough and uneven fur. She looked like a woman aged and experienced, for better and worse.

“I am Ozutuma, child. The people of your physical world have long since… disregarded me... forgotten me to time. I wish to come back… walk the world… gather followers. I need your body for this. We will… become one. The power of the goddess in your hands… you can lead your life...but we will lead a life to rebuilding my glory. I will have to change you… Shape you. My closest followers were… not like you.”

Noctus looked up at her. His god had sold him off, albeit with a glowing recommendation. On top of that, this offer wasn't terrible, and he didn't have much of an alternative. He nodded, before Ozutuma could even ask if he agreed. She laughed softly, and walked into Noctus, before his world once again vanished into a blinding light.

Noctus woke in the physical realm a week later, a great light streaking across the heavens leading to where he appeared, slumped over the pedestal. He groggily looked around at the crowd that surrounded him; monks and clerics from across the land had gathered and it seemed even a paladin or two bore witness. The nearest handmaidens rushed forward and helped him up, while one carried the sceptre on her open palms carefully. It had changed, with the pommel opening to allow a second black rod to descend, becoming much more of a staff.

The handmaidens gently carried Noctus forward to the water pool, while everyone watched on silently. Noctus scooped water thirstily, before noticing his reflection. A drastic change came over him, and his first observation was that he was no longer a him. Her new body was much smaller, almost Sprite like, though the black antlers on her head helped her eek out to three and a half feet tall. Her hair was red and tied back before a tight braid bounced along her back. It didn't hide the large, deer like ears in the side of her head, twitching at every murmur in the crow, while her massive doe eyes stared at her own reflection. Her nose was but a small black triangle, wet to the touch, surround by brown fur concealing her entire body.

She wasn't nude, though. She wore matching leather armor on her arms and legs, and her privates were covered in barely appropriate strips of the same material. She stood slowly, her wide hips and massive breasts throwing off her balance for a few steps, before she reached out and received her staff.

The sense of power in it was palpable, and explained why the maiden barely held it. Instantly, the voice of Ozutuma filled Noctus’s head.

“Young one, you have found your new life, and your followers. Noctus Shadowspell, the Ozutuma Reborn. Your new title. I was the goddess of mischief, of theft and list, of deception and trickery. Skills you learned and studied while on the street. Except for one… which your new followers will happily teach you the art of seduction and pleasure. Our power is by our followers. You will have to go forth into the world and find more believers, and that will give us more power. But make sure to return home, here. Tend the flock you already have as well.”

Her voice vanished as abruptly as it came, and Noctus was left with a eager crowd. With the new sensations under her leather armor, it wasn't hard to figure out what the first commandment was going to be.

After many, many days of enjoying her new body, Noctus found her way to Newgale Port and strode through the gates. She commanded the attention of nearly everyone in town as she marched to the guild hall. She didn't slip in undetected this time, though she still could have if she wanted to. She walked through the halls to Rex's bedroom, and after some personal persuasion, and a recount of her story, she was formerly accepted into his party, and got to live a life of an adventurer.