A relic untouched is a curse unbidden

“No! Careful” I screamed. Reaching out, my fingers so short I barely caught his coattail in a desperate reach. The Mi’qote, oblivious to the danger bumped the dusty bottle heedless of the danger that lay within reach.

Time seemed to slow as the vessel tumbled from it’s shelf, over into the empty air and down to the ground. It shattered, as centuries-old ceramic often does.

The magic was quick. Had I not been watching I would never have noticed the change, but the Mi’qote rapidly shrank from what was before quite tall to something much closer to the ground. His scream rose in pitch as the form shifted and the voice followed suit.

Moments later I was eye-to-eye with my new adventuring companion, once a Mi’qote of orange fur and lithe tail, now a Lalafell with distinctively Dunesfolk features.

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