Ambika has been preparing herself for the ultimate showdown, a life or death battle against the Lich King himself. In an attempt to enhance her already considerable skills, she's begun in recent months to study even more ancient magic. That's right, she's foolin' around with the voodoo. Experiments in blending magic with hair and fiber have yielded many hand-stitched runes and sigils, but none appeared to have any effect... until the last such attempt brought about a shocking change in the troll priestess.
"Be straight with me, Yayo." The trollish words felt utterly foreign in her mouth. They looked foreign spilling out of it, too, and she found herself clipping her speech in strange ways now that her tusks were on vacation and her lips were free to move as they pleased. "Is it reversible? What am I going to have to do to fix this?"
Yayo'jin was ancient, though you'd never know it to look at her. The witch's skin was taut and smooth, the color of spring leaves; her emerald eyes were bright, but infinitely wise. She wore her hair in hundreds of tightly-bound braids that spilled down her bare back in healthy, shining, charm-studded profusion, and a sheaf of necklaces strung on fine woven grasses covered her breasts. The beads, thousands of them, were carved from the bones and shells of Overlook's native turtles, representative of Yayo's chosen Loa. They clacked a senseless chatter as the woman knelt on her mat of braided rushes.
"What did you do, girlie." It was much less a question than an accusation, her deep and expressive voice only heightening the effect of her words. Ambika bristled.
"I made a mistake, obviously. I think I used the wrong runes."
"Your first mistake, girlie, was using runes in the first place." Yayo'jin hissed, drawing the last word out in a low sibilance that made the elf feel like cringing. She stood her ground, however, and Yayo peered up at her, brilliant eyes boring into Ambika's strangely glowing ones. "You are brave. You are also stupid." She lifted a hand, silencing her supplicant before she could speak.
"I have had many students, Ambika. You are not the first, and you will not be the last. You are not the best, but you are far from the worst, and there is much potential for greatness within you. That said, it would be irresponsible of me to simply cure your--shall we say, affliction?--before you have truly learned not to take your studies lightly. Consider this your punishment. Come back to me in two weeks' time, and we will continue your lessons."
Then Yayo was silent, tending once more to the bowls of dried blossoms at her feet. The elf fumed soundlessly for some time, dainty, five-fingered hands clenched tightly enough that the nails bit into the palms and drew blood. In this form she was dark, brooding, and lovely; her silky black hair spilled over her cheeks and shoulders, framing a nut-brown face of almost pixie-like delicacy. The rage in her green eyes, however, was anything but delicate, and when she had composed herself enough to speak, it was in the hushed and forceful tones of barely-restrained fury.
"That's it, then? You're teaching me a lesson. Don't you think even one second in this horrible body is punishment enough? Look at me, Yayo!"
"I am your teacher first, your friend second," she snapped. "To be honest, I am surprised at you. It is unlike you to be reckless in matters such as these. This is why I am sending you away. How can I return you to yourself, if you yourself have forgotten what that means? Kneel."
Ambika obeyed instantly, lowering herself to the mat. Yayo took the elf's chin in her hand and turned her face first one way, then the other. She made a clicking sound of disapproval behind her teeth and leaned forward, kissing Bika between the eyes. Bika scowled but bore it, and the witch pulled her hand back, waving away her wayward pupil.
"Two weeks. Then we will talk."
A cloud of dark and foul language followed the elf all the way to the docks.