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Chapter 2 by TMJ2008 TMJ2008

What form do you will into existence for yourself?

Goblin

Bones and sinew come together, binding together a short, squat skeleton. Muscle and organs come into being, formed from magic and the visceral stew all around you. Melted flesh rolls onto your frame, shifting and becoming skin as your true and final shape begins to coalesce and become solid. You bring the mass that is your body into being, bring it together and bind it into flesh and blood and bone and then...you burst out of the spawning pool and fill newly formed lungs with your first breath of cool air.

You rise up from the spawning pool, revealing your short figure to the air. You stand only three and a half feet tall, but your body is made up of sinewy muscle that holds far more strength than one would expect. You possess two ears, large and pointed, that stretch out from either side of your head, two eyes with vision that is currently blurred as you get used to light for the first time, a large pointed nose that already picks up scents sharper than any human could and a mouth with thin lips and sharp, strong teeth within. Your arms are long, reaching down to your knees, and your fingers are dexterous and graceful and tipped in sharp, hard claw-like nails. Your legs are short, but thick and they support your torso, touched with a bit of a belly but shot through with muscle, well enough. Finally, between your thighs, hangs a flaccid cock, measuring about five inches in its current unerect state, and a pair of large, heavy balls that your limp member rests against.

You are a goblin, in form, though there are minor differences you can tell just by looking at yourself. A little taller than the average goblin, if only by six inches or so, and a bit more solid and muscular. You hold yourself a bit more tall and erect than regular goblins and feel, inside, a sense of...pride, perhaps? Additionally, and more obviously, your skin is not the usual shade of green that one sees in goblins usually. No, your skin is instead a dark black. As black as the armor which your master wears.

Your master. Somehow, instinctively, you know of the existence of your master and of why you have been made. You instinctively know of how you were born of magic and will and of the master's essence mixed with those of your chosen race. You instinctively know much and you know this must be an effect of the magic, as is the way your body and form are not the norm for the race you are.

"A goblin? I would not have chosen such a form myself, but at least he is an intimidating specimen of a goblin. That skin seems to shine like your own dark armor, my lord. Oh! And he has your eyes! Such a lovely shade of blood red they are!", comes a voice that is thin and high-pitched from somewhere in front of you.

You focus your slowly clearing vision in that direction to see who it is that speaks.

Who do you see in the room with you?

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