Quoted By:
You’re not here for an extreme makeover–you’re here to gather intel on the Archmage and his bag of tricks! As such, you relay what you assume is a simple order to the irksome enchanter: Male Gnok: Brown Eyes… and freckles!
The Chytree appears ready to dissect your request, but whatever questions he had die in his throat. “So be it. Do try not to move.”
Eyes glowing like Christmas decorations, Oti’s voice dives to a low, almost guttural tone as he begins the incantation! A sensation akin to being nuzzled by a flock of paintbrushes washes over you as you struggle not to squirm… and though you don’t feel your features change, you can almost feel a thin veneer of magic draping over your body!
The process takes a minute at most, but leaves you feeling a bit more parched than you were before, albeit somewhat warmer? To say it’s an odd feeling wouldn’t be doing it justice!
“It’s done.” Oti declares with a curt sigh of relief. “Mind the arcane aura around you–if it grows lighter it means it’s coming undone.”
Thanks, you reply with an appreciative nod! The sorcerer responds by turning his attention to the other two. “Next?”
“Hmmmm~” Toppel purrs, no doubt twirling a lock of hair or whatever the hell Gnoks have, “I’d like to try… <span class="mu-i">Chytre-</span>”
“Pick something else.”
“Bu-”
“Hold still.”
The sorcerer repeats the same process on Toppel, albeit a bit more hastily. You watch with baited breath as the magical shroud starts at Toppel’s, well, <span class="mu-i">top</span>--and as the faint rattle of arcane energy works its way down her body, you can’t help but balk a bit when her green eyes are replaced with…
<span class="mu-i">Nothing.</span>
You wouldn’t put it past Oti to take the opportunity to vaporize her, but your posture relaxes when a fresh pair of orange eyes reappear on the new Toppel…
Albeit much lower than they were before. Sensing what’s been done, the sorceress shoots a biting glare at her ex!
“Why… Why do I feel so much <span class="mu-i">SMALLER?!</span> Y-you did this on purpose, didn’t you!? OTI!”
The Chytree merely clicks in response. “I warned you not to move. ‘<span class="mu-i">Oops</span>’.”
The Durher leaps onto Oti like a fuzzy missile and immediately assaults him with a flurry of fists! “<span class="mu-s">IDIOT! PROLE! SIMPLETON! ODIOUS IGNORAMUS! I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T WANT TO BE A DURHER–</span>”
An unseen force sends Toppel flying away from Oti and skidding across the ground! Brushing some dust off of whatever he’s wearing, the mage’s gaze lowers onto a somewhat concerned-looking Obber!
“And him?”
>CONTD.
