Service picked up and Troy barely had time to check on Mark. That didn’t deter him from having bouts of weirdness. He found himself become hotter and itchier, and scratched at himself with a clawed hand. He glanced down from serving a Pixie a thimbulful of wine and noticed a wave of spotted brown fur sweep down his chest before disappearing into his pants. He squirmed a bit as it covered his ass and balls. Then he was confused, because he’d always had fur, that’s why his shirt was open.
While he was pulling a draft of Ale for Greg, who’d come in to chat, Troy had stumbled as his legs cracked and stretched, reversing themselves at the knee. His gait shifted to digitigrade. It was awkward going at first, but he managed to walk the ale over without spilling a drop. Again, alarm bells rang in his head, but…for some reason, he couldn’t remember walking any other way.
He was sure Mark was changing him, but for life of him, he couldn’t tell what was different. Without the protection of the Book, he was as vulnerable as anyone else.
As Troy struggled to lift a keg, he felt his muscles vibrate, tense and contract, and then swell. The keg grew lighter with every pulse, muscles straining and bulging, until it wasn’t a struggle at all. He even grabbed another keg, enjoying the light strain it caused him. Sure, he’d still had a bit of a beergut, but he was yoked! He set the kegs down into place and attached the tap. He’d wondered if this was one of those changes, but he was fine with it if it was.
He padded down the bar on bare paws, nails clicking on the stone floor. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all? Troy sneezed. He sniffled and wiped his nose. It was suddenly really moist and sensitive. He took a clear breath through his nose and staggered a bit as smells overwhelmed him. The wood, the smell of his patrons-he didn’t even have to see them to tell who they were-the smell of his dog Rex, laying in his bed in the corner. He rubbed his nose, not noticing as his face creaked out into a full muzzle.
Getting thirsty, he pulled a draft of Dwarven Lager and downed it, long tongue lapping the foam from his muzzle. His smiled at the empty cup. Damned fine beer. He didn’t notice the small beer belly push out, inch by inch, causing his shirt to bulge a bit. He glanced up in the mirror and frowned when his mohawk-like mane fell into his eyes. He hastily tied it back with a rubber band he kept on hand just for this and gave his reflection a sultry wink. A damn fine specimen of a Gnoll, if he said so himself.
Something about that worried him. Mark was changing him into a Gnoll, but hadn’t he always been one? Oh! Right, he was supposed to get to Mark before he changed his ability scores. Guide him along so Troy didn’t get shafted.
Troy wandered over to Mark. “Need a top off?”
Mark looked up at him and smiled. “Actually, could you make me a mixed drink?”
Troy nodded. “Name it, I can make it.”
“Fairy Berry Thistledown on the rocks.” Mark enunciated, “And make it a double.”
“Coooming right up, sir!” Troy chuckled and began pulling bottles off the shelves, bottles he really didn’t know as they never existed before, and began twirling them.
People clapped as he juggled bottle and jigger and then flipped the mixer. Troy had no idea how he was doing all this, but it was awesome! He shook the concoction back and forth and then poured. Not a drop spilled. He gave a little bow and presented the drink.
“Your drink, sirrah.” Troy wondered where that word had come from.
Mark sipped the drink carefully, then smiled. “Perfect. That Mixologist feat might be garbage for a PC, but for an NPC like you, it’s great.”
Troy blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t realized you were still working on me.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t. Anyways, I changed Gnolls around a bit. They’re more like entertaining showmen than slavering raiders now.” Mark said. “But they’re a monster race. Decided to give you the +2 strength as a racial, but now I have to decide if I want to give you full Gnoll stats or adjust them to make it a playable race.”
“Um…” Troy glanced at the Monster Manual Troy had on the table next to them. “7 intelligence?”
“Yeah, that’s too low. I still think it’s a good dump stat for you.” Mark nodded. “Maybe an 8. Dumb but full of fun.”
“Are you sure?” Troy swallowed. “Maybe something else..?”
“So for you, it’s Strength 14, Dexterity 14, Constitution 14, Charisma 17." Mark ignored him, talking out loud. "I might have to drop your Wisdom too, actually. Not sure if that would make you too vapid. That isn’t very hot at all.”
“Well, if I’m just an NPC,” Troy pointed out, “Then making me a bit unbalanced won’t be a problem.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ll figure something out.” Mark nodded to himself and started writing. “Finishing off your past as we speak.”
Another voice called for the barkeep. Troy padded away, ears falt against his skull and tail swishing in worry. He didn’t want to be dumb.
“Have you read the newest quest?” Greg asked as Troy measure him out another mug of ale. “Here, read it.”
Troy bent over to read it and as he did, an odd buzzing sound echoed in his ear. Troy scrunched his muzzle and stuck a finger in his ear. It was hard to concentrate on the words, and as the buzzing sound increased, he felt a strange pressure in his head. Then somewhere in his brain, he heard a pop, and the buzzing went away, but his thoughts felt foggy. The words seemed to blend together into gobbledygook.
“Um, it err.” Troy shook his head, thoughts feeling sluggish, “I ain’t much for letters, sir.”
“But an ear for music, right?” Greg clapped him on the back.
Troy chuckled, wondering why he’d thought he could read. “’S right, ain’t got the head for books.”
“Nah, but you’re good at giving head.” Greg smirked. “Mark’s flagging you down.”
Troy drained his flagon and his belly grew and wobbled before gravity did it’s work and it lopped over his belt. He gave it a pat and chuckled. Really should cut back. He walked to Mark, belly jiggling slightly, and caught his reflection in the back bar mirror. Wear the hairs on his muzzle turning…gray? He shook his head. Must be his imagination or summat.
“An’ wha’ can this here barkeep do for ya, lad?” Troy grinned at Mark and remembered what Mark had said in passing with him once. “How’s yer dear mum?”
“She-” Mark blinked, eyes watering. “I guess I hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t make it.”
“You must be suffering terrible.” Troy leaned in and patted Mark on the shoulder. “Small wonder you’re so occupied with this game ‘o yers. Who’d wanna live in reality after that?”
“Yeah,” Mark wiped his eyes, “Thanks, man. You’re the only one who remembered her.”
“Yeh wanted to talk ter me about something else,” Troy prodded.
“Oh, uh, I decided on an 8 Intelligence.” Mark said sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s for balance. I was going to lower it even more, give you monster stats, but I did promise you a better role. Gnolls have an oral tradition, so I decided to make you illiterate. You got an exemption from the Bardic college for it.”
“Right, right,” Troy tried to puzzle that tangle of words out, mind searching through his brain fog. “Ah, erm, yer book thingie?”
“Yes, my ‘book thingie’,” Mark frowned, and muttered to himself. “I may have been a bit too harsh with that brain drain. I’ll bring it back to an average 10 later. He’s way too dumb to really be charming.”
“Nobody’s ever found my brains attractive.” Troy shrugged. “Except zombies m’haps.”
“His accent is really bad too.” Mark ignored Troy and shook his head, pulling up his cellphone. “Maybe Cockney?”
“Sir, I don't 'ave time ter stand 'round goin' on all day.” Troy said, trying to sound apologetic.
“That’ll do for now.” Mark wrote a few more lines. “I’ll set you as a back up adventurer. You’re lucky I like you so much.”
“Erm, thanks?” Troy wondered what the human was yammering about.
Service went normal the rest of the day. His strange brain fog even lifted a bit, letting him reflect on what had happened with Mark before. That poor guy and his game. Troy shook his head, hoping Mark would find away to get over his loss.
That night, Troy sang an ode to Mark’s dear mum just before closing. Mark cried harder than he’d ever seen a grown man cry and left the room. He thought he’d offended the lad, but when he woke up the next day, he felt refreshed, the gray in his beard reduced to just a few hairs and his gut smaller.
Troy was invited on an adventure by Mark that same day.