How This Came Together
In Shifting Form, Tarian’s grief and guilt leave him brooding in the meeting hall, hunched over a cracked table with dagger in hand. His friend Keldon tries to pull him back from despair, but their exchange takes a sinister turn when a monstrous impostor invades their bond. What begins as self-recrimination erupts into suspicion, steel, and the chilling revelation that trust is more fragile than ever.
Every strike of Tarian’s dagger echoes his fractured alliances, and when the shapeshifter reveals itself, the cost of vulnerability becomes undeniable. Shifting Form blends tense friendship, sudden violence, and eerie transformation into a tale of doubt and survival.
Music Pairing
I chose Washed Out to accompany this tale, not one of my more eerie pieces, but the one steeped in melancholy. Its drifting saxophone lines mirror the sorrow eating at Tarian’s soul, while the clarinet’s grounding voice underscores the weight left in the wake of broken alliances, hinting at something more to come.
Behind the Scenes
When I got to this point in the overarching tale, I wanted to amp up the danger and further explore the world the colonists discovered themselves in. As a result, I dropped myself into this situation and asked, “How could this be made worse?” It didn’t take long for me to discover a truly devastating turn to take and explore. After they were stripped of their alliances, they must contend not only with looming threats but also with dangers wearing familiar faces. The story asks a haunting question: how do you fight when you can’t be sure who stands beside you?
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Shifting Form
Tarian sat in solitary silence, taking in the emptiness of the meeting hall. The crack ran the entire length of the conference table, and the sneering crevasse mocked him. He gripped the hilt of his dagger with white knuckles. Tarian lifted the tip of the blade and rammed it into the pockmarked slab. He twisted the knife, enlarging the hole as he took a deep breath. As the seconds ticked away, he stabbed its point into the table several times.
Between strikes, the door swung inward. Keldon stepped inside, eyeing his friend’s assault on the ruined furniture before letting out a sigh. Tarian drove the blade into the wood again, and Keldon claimed an empty seat. He waited for his friend to stop, but the knife didn’t cease. He cleared his throat as he leaned toward his friend. “If everything were normal, I wouldn’t butt into your affairs.”
“Why are you starting the habit?” Tarian asked as he drove the dagger into the table.
Keldon lifted two fingers. “Two reasons. First, sitting here and wallowing over what’s happened for weeks isn’t healthy.”
“And the second?” Tarian asked, plunging the blade through the wood.
“You’re damaging the table.”
“It’s already cracked, Kel.” Tarian laid the dagger down. “This wooden slab isn’t going to be useful for any upcoming meeting with our allies.”
“You seem sure about that.”
“They were adamant about not helping us. Fitik declared Caleb couldn’t find them.” Tarian rose and started pacing. After his second trip around, he stopped and gripped his empty chair and stared at his friend. “Have you forgotten how much the dwarves loved Caleb? What does that say about our connection?”
“That it’s fractured.”
“Hence why I’m here,” Tarian said, resuming his walk. “Trying to figure out what I could have done differently.”
Keldon placed his feet on the table and watched his friend pace out of sight. When Tarian emerged in his periphery, Keldon nodded. “Which brings me back to you sitting in the hall and sulking. It isn’t healthy for anyone, let alone yourself.”
“What are you going on about?”
“You haven’t been reading the reports I’ve sent you. However, there’s another horde of this world’s monsters stirring again.”
The words slammed into Tarian like a sledgehammer, forcing him to his knees. He used a chair to drag himself up and stared at Keldon. “Where have they massed?”
“Right now, I’m not concerned.” Keldon rubbed his chin. “But they’re close enough that I’m certain they are gearing up for an assault.”
Tarian buried his face in his hands. “We wouldn’t have survived the last round if it weren’t for our former allies.”
“That’s true. But knowing that, I tasked Loyd with rebuilding our munitions.”
Lifting his head, Tarian peered through his fingers. “When did you do that?”
“The moment we finished round two,” Keldon said, lifting Tarian’s dagger.
“As did I. How have his efforts gone?” Tarian inquired while he leaned over the table.
“We possess nothing akin to our inventory following the crash.” Keldon’s lips curled into a sly grin as he lifted his hands. “Though from what Loyd tells me, we’ve assembled a vast array of crude missiles and explosives. It’s unlikely enough to rebuff another assault of equivalent size, but with what we have, I wouldn’t want to try assaulting this encampment.”
“Instruct Loyd to redouble his efforts.” Tarian plucked the knife from Keldon’s hands. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t be prepared for round four before round three begins.”
“I figured you’d have that response, which is why I’ve already done it.”
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