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A chorus of groans rang through the camp as, once again, Gale and Ophelia were debating the merits of innate skill and practiced study when it came to wielding the weave.
“I believe I’ve already told you that I once summoned a mud mephit, much to my mother’s dismay, as an infant. It then promptly exploded all over the kitchen. She loved to regale me with the tale with a specific emphasis on the hours it took for her to clean up.” Gale, both equal parts annoyed and delighted, had fixed the Wild Sorcerer with a smug grin.
“Oh yeah? I once nearly burnt down my parents house with an ill timed fire bolt. As a babe!” Ophelia sniffed, arms crossed, as her nose wrinkled. “Beat that!”
The discussion was less of a scholarly debate and more akin to two children bickering about whose shiny rock was shinier. When one rock was a chunk of Laculite and the other was a lump Viridian Crystal. Both shiny. Both expensive. Each used for entirely different purposes and equally as useful.
Not that such an argument would be enough to stop those two.
“I do hope they don’t try to pull us into yet another ‘friendly competition’,” Shadowheart sighed. She’d taken over as camp cook for the evening as it was common knowledge that once this started no one would eat otherwise.
“It’s actually quite funny to watch.” Astarion chimed in with a chuckle as he sat near the fire. They’d all learned to keep a bit of a distance in case of a stray spell. The half elf sorcerer was prone to even less predictable magic during these verbal sparring matches. “It doesn’t hurt that I get to reap the rewards when Gale has inevitably proved whatever point he set out to make.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m still mourning the loss of a braid and a scorched horn.” Wyll groaned, eyeing the two with a wary gaze.
“Aw, don’t be like that, soldier! She apologized, didn’t she?” Karlach chuckled, patting the warlock on the back.
“Every time they go at each other, I’m reminded of two cubs wrestling before one inevitably winds up in the stream.” Halsin shook his head slightly, but the fond smile on his lips betrayed him.
“G'lyck, they bicker like children when we are so close to Baldur’s Gate.” Lae’zel seemed moments away from swinging her sword. Whether at them or between them was anyones guess. “This will end as well as it usually does and we will be the ones to pay the price.”
As if on cue, the crackle of magic could be heard from the direction of where the two casters were now spinning spells around them simply to prove…something. Six heads whipped around to stare at them. Just in time to catch a face full of Wild Magic.
POOF!
Where there had once been eight humanoids, there were now four cats and four dogs of varying shapes, sizes, and colors.
Where Gale had been standing was now a medium sized dog with a short coat of chocolate brown with a sweet face.
Ophelia had been replaced with a cat of long limbs, slender frame and a creamy, curly coat.
Their cleric had taken the form a feline as well with a short haired pelt of dark slate gray and lean musculature.
The resident rogue was now a cat, too, with a silky, white coat and ballerina-like body with piercing red eyes.
Wyll, human no longer, joined the ranks of canines with a spotted glossy coat of dark brown and white with velvety, floppy ears.
Karlach had become a large dog with black, perked ears and matching saddle back and pointed snout while the rest of her fur was caramel.
The largest of the bunch, Halsin was also among the canines with a tri-colored coat of white, black and brown and a stocky body.
Lastly, Lae’zel had joined the ranks of felines with a lithe, svelte form with a pelt of light brown.
The change swept over them in a matter of seconds. All animals glanced between themselves before a cacophony of yowling and barking erupted within the camp. Scratch, who had been wandering around the outskirts of camp, burst out of the foliage with the owlbear cub not far behind. The conflicting sight before him made him growl for a few moments before recognizing the scents of his friends mingling among them. He eagerly began to greet them all in the way that dogs do, much to overall dismay.
Astarion lashed out his with claws, hissing, and stalked away with hunched shoulders. Gale was quick to follow, nearly falling over his paws, as the cat with a white coat disappeared into his tent. This wasn’t the first time Ophelia’s magic had gone awry, but it was definitely the most embarrassing in the rogue’s book. Sitting on a pillow, he waited for it to wear off as it usually did.
Only…it didn’t.
Gale shoved his head past the tent flaps and tilted his head at the displeased feline. He seemed entirely unaffected by the prolonged transformation, more worried about his lover. There wasn’t a way for them to speak to one another in this form, but the meaning was clear when Astarion made a beckoning motion with his paw.
Bounding into the enclosed space, Gale was quick to sniff and huff the strange, new scents from his love. The press of a wet nose to Astarion’s ear prompted an annoyed rumble in his chest, but he head butted the canine.
As it became obvious their new forms weren’t wearing off anytime soon, the graceful cat slipped out the back of his tent with his canine companion trailing behind him. The unique perspective his new size afforded him had Astarion sniffing and climbing trees with abandon as he explored the new flexibility afforded him by being in another form. Gale chuffed and chased after him on the ground with a happy grin.
Without his elven body and all the baggage associated with it, Astarion found himself feeling…free. Free to run and jump and swipe at bats passing above him in the night sky. It was so much simpler to be something not, well, him for once. By the time he clambered back to the ground, his fur had collected twigs and leaves which he promptly shook off before grooming his fur to some semblance of orderly. Gale, panting and drooling, licked him across his smaller muzzle as a show of affection. To which Astarion’s ears fell back and he growled, darting back toward the camp with the other right on his tail.
Everyone else had retired to their tents for the night for which the rogue was grateful. It’d be mildly embarrassing to be seen in such a state, after all. He entered his tent and flicked his tail at Gale to follow him inside. The interior was dark though they weren’t bothered by the lack of light in their current forms.
Astarion herded Gale onto a large blanket by his bedroll. It didn’t take a genius for the chocolate brown dog to get the idea and curled up on top of it. His tail thumped steadily on the fabric causing hair and fly around. Usually it was he who had the height advantage on the other man, but with Gale now several times larger it was quite the novelty. Plus the heat radiating off him was particularly enticing.
With a huff, Astarion crawled into the space between his legs and pressed against his stomach. A steady purr started up in his chest as he settled in for however long it took for the magic to wear off.
By the following morning, he awoke as an elf once more with his limbs tangled in Gale’s. He grumbled as he spotted the animal hair left on their clothing.
“Morning, my love,” came the gruff greeting of his lover regaining consciousness.
“Yes, yes. Don’t you dare say a word about last night.” Astarion sniffed, plucking cat hair off his shirt.
A throaty chuckle paired with a teasing smile. “I believe I felt a raspy tongue on my face at some point in the night. I do hope you don’t cough up a hairball like last time.”
A sharp noise of indignation left the rogue as he shoved Gale off his bedroll. “You swore never to speak of it again! And it’s your fault this happened, you know.”
“At least this went better than the last time. I remember Shadowheart and Lae’zel missing chunks of hair when we transformed back,” Gale said, chuckling at the memory.
Reaching out with a placating motion of both outstretched hands, he waited for Astarion to glance at him and sigh at the wide, brown eyes awaiting him.
“…fine,” he hissed, setting his face between those hands to receive a kiss on the nose. “But you’re going to clean off all this cat and dog hair. Without magic.”
“What?!” It was Gale’s turn to squawk as he stared at the sheer amount of shred fur.
“Yes and you’re going to launder it all.”
Heaving a sigh that was only partly in jest, the wizard began to gather up everything affected. “Perhaps I should spare more thought to whether it’s worth attempting to explain the intricacies of the Weave to someone who didn’t have to work for their power.”
“Perhaps you should, darling. Think about that while you clean, hm?”