Floating in the air a few feet behind him was a pixie. She looked like a miniature version of a young woman with flowing silver hair that reached down to her pert breasts, and a fit, voluptuous body that that would have driven any man wild to see bared like Aaralon was now. Even her nearly transparent butterfly wings only added to her allure, as they caught the light and sparkled in a dazzling display.
But she was less than a foot tall, while Aaralon estimated his height at over 10 feet. And she was laughing at him. If he were still human, Aaralon would have flushed red with embarrassment at being humiliated by a cute girl. However, now he felt himself grow furious at her impertinence.
“Huff” he snorted, trying to get back to his feet so he could show the bitch not to make fun of him. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Aaralon made an amusing display as he used his arms for balance and alternated between staring daggers at the pixie and worryingly checked his foot placement.
Seeing this display, the pixie burst into a second round of laughter, falling down onto the grass as Aaralon advanced a step towards here. He felt a red fog begin to creep over his mind at the insult she was doing him, and his rage began to grow uncontrollable. Aaralon was aware he was reacting strangely, but he was loosing himself to the new body he inhabited.
A young bull minotaur was at the stage in his life were he would need to fight for territory and females, and the hormones filling his system ensured he would grow strong and be fertile. But minotaur were never known for their patience to begin with, which cut Aaralon’s tolerance for mockery to a little over ‘none’.
“I’m going to crush your tiny body, pixie!” he roared, gradually getting the hang of using his new legs. The distant, logical part of Aaralon’s mind noted that the spell evidently came with some basic knowledge on minotaur along with enough ‘instinct’ to make him catch on easily.
Finally noting the advancing bull with murder in his eyes, the pixie wiped the tears from her face and stilled her laughter. Flying up to look Aaralon in the face, she smiled warmly, ignoring another bellow of rage.
“My name’s Siena!” she said, casually dodging Aaralon’s clumsy fists. “I’m the invisible companion sent to aid you!”
“You’re hardly invisible, wench!” Aaralon said, again missing the pixie by scant inches.
“Well, it wouldn’t work to well if I was invisible to the one I was supposed to help!” Siena rolled her eyes at the big minotaur, who continued to swing his meaty paws around in a futile attempt to catch her. “I’m going to be your eyes and ears on this quest, although you might have noticed how your own hearing and sense of smell have improved. Regardless, I’m to aid you by going placed you can’t, along with trying to keep your more bestial nature in check.”
Dancing away from Aaralon’s hand, she flew up and out of reach of the enraged bull. Glaring at the pixie, Aaralon slowly found himself calming down as he finally began to re-exert control over his body. Letting his rage subside, Aaralon decided it was time he start to move out. His implanted minotaur instinct noted that this area was marked by another male, and he needed to move out if he were to avoid a needless fight.
“Just what I was thinking!” Siena said, casually gliding down to rest on one of Aaralon’s gleaming white horns. The minotaur inside was angered at this intrusion into its personal space, but Aaralon suppressed it, finding it easier to control his animal emotions with practice. “So you can read my mind then?” he noted, as he looked around the clearing for something to help guide him. He finally noted a sizable knapsack and incredibly large sword lying in the grass next to where he awoke.
“Gifts from Sareth?” he ask Siena. She nodded. “Some food and supplies in the sack, and a nice weapon to ensure you don’t find yourself unarmed and to help you find employment with the orcs.”
“Employment?” he asked as he shouldered the crude sword and attached the sack to his loincloth’s thick belt. “I’m supposed to work for a bunch of dumb, violent orcs? You must be mad!”
Raining an eyebrow, she asked “Well, did you have any other plans of getting into the orc camp as an 11 foot tall minotaur?” |