The fire left but the guilt stayed.

What remains is not simply ruin, but absence. Doorways gape into blackened rooms, fences lean over scorched gardens, and the village square stands empty...

For when diplomacy needs a sharper follow-up.

It began as a practical weapon from a disciplined martial tradition, forged for balance, reach, and authority rather than ceremony. The steel bears the...

Curiosity killed nothing yet. The cat is working on it.

The forest, however, does not welcome investigation. Beneath its towering trees, the air thickens with territorial silence, and every path seems to shift...

24 Towns
23 Legends
11 Orders
30 Souls
10 Artifacts
Mika Fangura
  • Obsessive Assassin
  • Skinbound Hunger
  • Cold Pursuit

Mika Fangura

Race: Human. Gender: Female. Age: 23.

Alignment: True Neutral

She began as a professional killer, not a fanatic. Discipline came first, followed by silence, patience, and the understanding that emotion made poor armor. Contracts taught her how bodies failed, how fear changed a room, and how most people revealed themselves before steel ever touched them.

Over time, ordinary murder became insufficient. Disguises failed. Witnesses remembered posture, voice, scent, and habits. Doors closed against faces known to the wrong people. She began studying every rumor of transformation she could find, drawn not to spectacle but to utility. A full change of body meant a full change of access, identity, and survival.

The idea of becoming a skin-binder took root slowly, then devoured everything else. She stopped seeing shapeshifting as magic granted to the fortunate and began treating it as a skill that could be hunted, stolen, learned, or forced open. Every failed lead left her colder. Every refusal proved that people guarded power because they were too weak to use it properly.

Now she operates with a purpose beyond coin. Killing remains familiar, but it is no longer the end of her work. She seeks the means to transform completely, and the obsession has hollowed out what little restraint she once kept. She is still human, for now, but she has already begun living like her current shape is only a temporary inconvenience.

A Better Face for Murder

A professional assassin has reached the edge of what training, discipline, and human flesh can offer. She can stalk, threaten, vanish, and kill, but every contract reminds her of the same flaw: one body leaves traces, one face can be remembered, and one identity can be trapped.

The secret of skin-binding promises the final refinement of her craft. Full-body transformation would let her become the disguise instead of wearing one, pass guarded thresholds without suspicion, and leave no true face behind for witnesses to fear or describe. To her, this is not corruption. It is advancement.

A Better Face for Murder follows her descent through contracts, stolen lore, dangerous bargains, and forbidden techniques as each chapter brings her closer to transformation. The horror is not only what she does to others, but what she becomes willing to remove from herself.

This is a dark, predatory transformation quest about ambition without mercy and identity treated as a tool. The closer she gets to becoming anyone, the less certain it becomes that anyone remains beneath the skin.


A Better Face for Murder
  • Skinbound Ambition
  • Identity Horror
  • Predatory Descent
Human
  • Stubborn Survivors
  • Endless Adaptation
  • Ordinary Trouble

Human

They were never the strongest creatures in the world, nor the swiftest, nor the most naturally gifted. What they had was persistence, hands clever enough to shape tools, and a stubborn refusal to accept that being ordinary meant being helpless. Early human communities survived by learning quickly, sharing labor, adapting to harsh seasons, and turning weakness into cooperation before hunger, weather, or war could finish the argument.

As their societies spread, they built lives in nearly every shape the world allowed. Some gathered behind walls and noble banners, others worked fields, crossed roads, traded goods, raised families, fought wars, and chased ambition with the kind of reckless confidence that makes longer-lived species quietly reach for a drink. Their short lives gave them urgency, and urgency gave them motion. They built, failed, rebuilt, argued, prayed, invented, conquered, surrendered, and tried again.

Over generations, humans became difficult to define because they refused to stay one thing. They could be loyal or treacherous, merciful or brutal, brilliant or impressively stupid before breakfast. Their cultures changed with climate, power, need, and belief, creating kingdoms, villages, clans, guilds, armies, and households bound by survival as much as identity.

Now they remain one of the realm’s most adaptable peoples, lacking the obvious gifts of more specialized species but thriving through endurance, invention, and sheer social stubbornness. A human may not dominate the first hour of a march, siege, bargain, or disaster, but it is unwise to assume they will be gone by the last. They have a talent for surviving long enough to become everyone else’s problem.


An assassin seeking something you have. For you, she will come.