>>5900170>>5900181>>5900220>>5900243>>5900326>>5900399>>5900401>>5900492>>5900566>>5900810>Idea: how about we turn ourselves into a chicken, allowing our master to claim that she couldn’t hire a court jester on short notice, so she made do with turning a chicken into one?You instead focus the spell inward: like acid, the flow of beast blood ebbs from your wand and drains into your hand, through to your arms and along the cavity of your chest, into your legs to pool up in your sabots. The magic begins to change you, bit-by-bit: toes curl inward and sharpen into talons, a feathery down sprouts up along your cloak and flesh, your lips curl and harden into your teeth.. were this magic not a natural analgesic, the process would be agony. You instead feel a mild tingle as your form warps into that of a bird.
You look up with a puff of magical radiator smoke, now a chicken for all the court to see. The whole of the court stops in their tracks in surprise–which includes the gnome mother, gavel still in hand.
“Why is the jester a chicken.” Morgan stares daggers at Sigrid.
“I–I.. ah-..” Sigrid stares between you and the elf. “It’s, ah–.. actually–.. yes, my emotional support jester was a chicken the whole time, actually..! I couldn’t hire a court jester on such short notice, so–.. I made do by turning a chicken into one..?”
The court falls silent, passing glances at once another, whispering and snickering.
“You serious, halfling?” Sigismund leans over the desk with a squint.
“Oh, my. Erasmus..” Morgan doesn’t bother to stifle her laughter as she looks between the chicken and the human greybeard. “You were led on by a chicken.”
“Bah. It says more of your position that even a chicken has foresight to see what you cannot.” Erasmus scoffs.
“It’s very cute. What is it, a silkie chicken?” Angrboda observes.
>Play up your cuteness.>Signal to Sigrid that they can’t disinherit her yet if they were swayed by a mere beast. The issue should be postponed!>Attack one of the board.>[Write-In.] 