Rokasna's azure feathers were stripped away, and new golden feathers covered his body. These feathers exuded an aura of piety, but if someone parted them and looked closely, they would find an indelible, faint blue hue at their roots.
"All right, your new look is quite nice." Tzeentch was very satisfied with Carlos's efficiency. He clapped his hands, unfolding a mirror before Rokasna.
As he studied his reflection in the mirror, Rokasna felt like one of those bad students from Impossible-to-Graduate University who had fallen into depravity on Sixth Street of Debauchery.
Golden yellow... I hate golden yellow...
Rokasna was still brooding when Tzeentch raised a hand and tore open a rift. Grabbing Rokasna by the neck, he hurled him inside.
"Do a good job, my student!"
As the world spun around him, those were the only words that reached Rokasna's ears.
Once his vision returned and the dizzying sensation faded, Rokasna rubbed his head and groaned in discomfort.
Something felt wrong. It was somewhat rough.
Rokasna looked at his hands and discovered that his body had taken on a mortal form. His smooth, pristine feathers had become crude, rough flesh.
Where am I...
Struggling to his feet, Rokasna surveyed his surroundings. He tried to use his psychic sight to foresee what lay ahead, only to find that he could not stir the sea of psychic power. He could only gather a trace of strength from the rising steam.
This was a human hive city. The dim, dilapidated walls were covered in soot, rust, and traces of mixed blood from all sorts of creatures. Fragments of words from thousands, even tens of thousands of years ago could be found in the hive's lower levels. Deformities and monsters alike lived within this garbage-filled pit.
Listening closely, Rokasna heard a buzzing from