Brains and Brawn - Possession TG

   That clod of a barbarian had struck me again with the backswing of her axe, striking me with the flat of her blade while in her battle frenzy. I lie in the grass, stars wheeling around my head as blood trickles from my temple and the clanging of battle abates.

Lenna stands over me, wiping her gore-encrusted greataxe off on my wizardly robes. “Fucking mage, tripped over his dress again? You truly are worthless in a fight. Worse - I might have tripped over you lying there. Know your place the next time we're in battle - behind me.”

“I am a hundred and eleven years old, and you will treat me with respect, young lady,” I hiss. As I struggle to stand, there is a crack and a lance of pain from my pelvis.

“Disgusting,” Lenna spits. “Weak. My tribe would have sent you out in the cold decades ago. Save us both the trouble of me babysitting you in battle - do what all old men do and die.”

A berserker’s rage is a terrifying thing. A wizard’s is rarer, and far worse. My eyes flash with eldritch symbology as I level a finger at her, a lance of dark energy striking her in the chest.

“Ruoy ydob si enim uoy tnelosni nairabrab!”

Her spirit link with her animal companion has always been powerful. That connection served her well in battle, yet here it was her undoing. All it took was a blast of necromantic energy to dislodge her soul from her body for ever a moment, and the spiritual link sprang tight, pulled her in and sealed her within the animal, two souls joined in a single body. Leaving her flesh empty and unguarded.

My soul settles comfortably in its new home, my awareness slowly trickling out into her extremities. I feel like warm treacle filling a mold as my essence infuses the vessel.  I slip on her hands like donning fine, well-fitting gloves. My body is strong and vibrant, my blood singing with youth and adrenaline from a battle well-fought. The myriad pains of age, collected over such a long time that I’d almost forgotten their presence, are gone. The iron greataxe feels like a feather in the grip of my powerful arm.

My eyes flutter open. The details of a world unobscured by cataracts stuns me. Was the world always this beautiful? How had I never noticed before? Youth is indeed wasted on the young, as they say. I can make out every leaf on the tree, every hair on the mountain lion bearing down on-

Lenna sinks her teeth into my arm. It is a good pain - sharp and thrilling, not the dull chronic ache of ancient joints. Compared to the pleasure simply dwelling in this perfect physique gives me, the pain is nothing.

It is a simple spell to charm an animal. The glow of my hands reflects in the lion’s eyes.

“Know your place, animal - beneath me. Or else you’ll make a fine fur-skin rug for my wizard tower. Now… sit.” Obediently the animal sits. “At last, you learn respect. Roll over.” She obeys. “Beg.” The animal looks up at me, pleading, whining, the human fear clear in its animal eyes. “... speak.”

“Rawr rah rawrhhhh ra,” the animal mewls.

“Struggling with that one, are we?” I laugh. Slowly I heft the blade, relishing the bunching of my powerful muscles. The lion shrinks back. I check if I am being watched. Our companions are finishing up their half of the fight. They won’t notice. “In case you’re wondering if this is temporary…”

My axe thuds down into the inert form of my old body. My grey-haired head rolls away into the grass.