Tired and weary, the days’ travel behind him. Telinthos pulled a jug of fine Dark Iron mead from his packs and drank from it heavily.
Watching as his Dranei blue skin started to fade slowly and return to the pinkish hue of his elven origins, he mused.
“I’m going to miss the tail.”
“I won’t. Nor the hooves.” Savandra remarked as she adjusted, searching for a comfortable way to sit. The shapechange masking their bodies took the greatest toll on her. Probably because this was her first change and likely the last.
Having completed their foray into scouting Alliance battle strategy and economic position, Telinthos had enacted the ritual magicks necessary to undo the polymorph binding his form to that of a broad-shouldered Dranei.
“Well, at least you’re not gaining five feet of height. Try being a Gnome for a while.”
“Pass.” she commented, finally giving up and laying upon her belly. “This will be done in the morning?”
“Long before then, but you’ll want to be asleep or drunk for the transition. It can be disorienting, at best.” Telinthos pulled another jug from his pack and handed it to her. “It’s no kungaloosh, but it does the trick.”
Telinthos took a long pull from the jug, emptying it’s contents into his belly and threw himself to the ground to sleep off the effects as his mind slipped from it’s precarious grasp on reality into the spiraling whirlwind of inebriation.
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