TBD
an excerpt

“Show your true face, Tutubi,” the voice rumbled from the back of the building.
The corners of Tutubi’s mouth pulled down into a frown. After all these years, and all his hard work, he still hated this part. With a barely audible sigh, he hugged his torso with his arms, the soft linen of his suit whispering with the motion, and closed his eyes. The stocky man faded until he was a pale translucent shell emitting a faint golden glow. The glow shimmered and dappled like the shadow of autumn leaves, and shifted to a bluish green. Where Tutubi’s face had been, the snout of an Eastern dragon appeared. The eyes were tightly shut and the cheeks filled out and snout elongated as if being inflated from within. Heavy brow ridges protruded above the deep-set eyes, and a long, sinuous moustache sprouted from the upper corners of his mouth. He opened his eyes, revealing rich, gold irises with indigo pupils. The rest of his body filled in quickly, the serpentine form growing out from behind the head. A small set of forearms with large, lion-like paws, a long expanse of torso, stocky back legs with powerful muscles bunched under the thin, scaled skin, and a curling, armored tail with a line of rigid, triangular plates standing up like the backbone of a stegosaurus.
His back legs and belly lay on the floor, but his upper torso and head remained elevated at roughly his human height.
He clasped his paws in front of his chest, and looked askance with hooded eyes. The final stage of the transformation began. Starting as an itching that rapidly turned into a fiery burn, he felt the pressure of trapped energy between his shoulder blades. As always, he willed the transformation to stop before his wings broke free, but his body never listened. With a tearing sound that always made him flinch, the wings emerged. The luminous white blobs solidified and elongated, and kept elongating, until a quadruple set of narrow, veined gossamer wings extended almost half his body length into the room. He looked over his left, then right shoulders, making sure the wings had not knocked over any furniture, then flexed the wings and flicked them through small motions to alleviate the muscle cramps that always followed their emergence. He settled so he was standing on his front paws, and faced the back of the church.

The laughter began subtly this time. Soft sussurrations from the fire serpents and a dry chuckle from their master. The sound made his scales shift and dance, and he flicked his wingtips in agitation. He braced himself for the usual cackles, but the norse dragons were diplomatic and stifled their laughter. Tutubi uncurled his armored tail, which has been arched in a defensive stance, and settled it on the floor.

“Close the door,” the deep voice said, and the fire serpents sprang into action, racing down the outside aisles to reach the door. Tutubi swept the tip of his tail along the back wall and whacked the door closed before the serpents could reach it. The room plunged into darkness, and he heard the serpents dig their paws into the dirt floor to stop their forward charge. The ribbon tips of his moustache curled in an imitation of a smile. He knew anything more would be a grievous breach of etiquette, but allowed himself this one jab of vengeance for their laughter. He opened his eyes fully, but could still only hear their soft padding footsteps as they returned to their master’s side.

“Come forward, Tutubi,” the voice said. “We are ready to hear your case now.”