Scales
The genie raises his cobalt-hued arms, muscles bulging as he chants in a language you don’t recognize, although it hurts your ears to hear it. Then, he ends with a flourish, and nothing happens. You’re ready to laugh at him – and then you realize your mouth won’t open.
“You should have been a little more grateful. Genies don’t come along every day,” he mocks.
You’re ready to argue, ready to take it back, ready to say something, but your mouth won’t move. You raise your hands to your lips – and there’s nothing there. Then, as the spell fully takes hold, there’s a crack from behind you, and you fall to your hands and knees with an unspoken cry of pain.
“That’s better,” says the genie with derision. Gone is the kneeling, servile spirit – now he is all pride and offended dignity, teaching you your place in the world. “Treat your elders with respect.” The chanting starts again.
There’s a sharp pain in your back, and it feels like your spine is lengthening, and then suddenly you’re aware of…
something behind you. It swishes back and forth behind you, and you realize you now have a tail. Scales spread over your skin like a rush of cold, and they itch. Not only that, but your hands and feet are broadening and flattening, nails sharpening into wicked claws.
You could let the spell finish and try to apologize… or you could attack him and see if you can stop it.
Written by Elliott-Moose on 06 November 2016
