In an instant, Nick’s ego had shrunk ten times in size. As had the rest of him, apparently: he could no longer feel his arms or legs. His hands and feet felt preposterously enlarged. He was trapped, trapped in a mess of fur and engulfed in a heap of his own clothes. It was dark in that makeshift tent, but his eyes felt weaker than ever – unhelpfully tiny pinpricks of sight – and his nose felt disturbingly long and wobbly.
He screamed, and started writhing, and waddled his way blindly off the stage before Nick knew what was happening. He didn’t know what he had become, but why hadn’t they transfigured him back?
He scrabbled out of the bind he was in, finding better purchase on the floor proper, but feeling – lots of beings around him? Nick didn’t particularly want to get trampled on, so he tried to dart out of the way, in some animalistic instinctive urge for somewhere safe and sheltered, and – barrelled his way brainlessly into a safe, dark hole.
(Er. Someone’s underskirts or trouser-leg.)
open to 1-3 people spectating the duelling tournament!
He screamed, and started writhing, and waddled his way blindly off the stage before Nick knew what was happening. He didn’t know what he had become, but why hadn’t they transfigured him back?
He scrabbled out of the bind he was in, finding better purchase on the floor proper, but feeling – lots of beings around him? Nick didn’t particularly want to get trampled on, so he tried to dart out of the way, in some animalistic instinctive urge for somewhere safe and sheltered, and – barrelled his way brainlessly into a safe, dark hole.
(Er. Someone’s underskirts or trouser-leg.)
