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Kelos erupts from his seat. The fragile camp stool crashing backwards into the darkness. Shaking what wine he can from his tunic, he stands as tall as he can. The servant now cowers, sinking even lower.
"Punish him!" He roars, arm outstretched and rigid. "Give this fuck-up, a job he can't fuck up!"
Xarlat rises to his feet, smoothly with a serpentine grace. An incantation tumbling from his lips a low constant muttered spell. The summoned magic clear as his fists start to glow. The light intensifying, brightening, until it turns electric, cracking from finger to finger. Xarlat extends his hands towards the cowering man.
He's muttering a litany of mumbled apologies, begging for mercy. As the magic strikes his body he shrieks in pain. His body contorts twitch and growing beneath the onslaught of the magic. As it grows he bursts through his outfit, swelling rapidly. His cries lose their human speech, becoming more of a struggle.
His neck stretches and stretches. His mantra going higher and higher, now incoherent and animalistic. The flickering fire light reveals in uncertain light the hooves that now replace his hands and feet. He also has more weight to his body... the flames hint at broad hips, and perhaps a tail. Xarlat's magic crackles over his body confirming the tail, the whole equine shape.
The shape now clear, Xarlat is smiling triumphantly. The servant is now in the shape of a foal. Eyes wide with fear, and still human, he looks terrified.
The changes continue, well, the changes stop, but the growth continues. Soon the former retainer stands taller than any of the men.
"The fuck-up will serve in a capacity that's impossible to fail." Xarlat said, as he spoke pride filling his words, "He'll serve as a broodmare. Fuck ups will be her job now, servicing the randy battle stallions, with her ready body."
The filly's eyes were still hauntingly human, if anything more expressive with their enlargement. A tear was blinked aside from them.
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