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What have I done?
It was but a simple experiment. A transmutation of features, a brand new fauna to bring to Vvardenfell. And what did I create? For perhaps the first time in my career, I wish I had failed. What sort of Telvanni mage am I to say such a thing?
I made the immediate decision to destroy my creation. Yes, it was not inherently evil, or dangerous, or any of the traits normally associated with regrettable experiments. But it haunted me with its unnatural form, its protruding head, its fusion of scales and fur. I knew I had to destroy it.
My deep sense of curiosity was my downfall. My mind was made up to undo what I had done, but I was too vain to let my experiment be destroyed before setting up at least the most basic of tests. I was in the middle of one when my darling little girl burst into my office with her daily demand for sweets.
How this creature entrapped my daughter I will never know, but she was immediately besotted by it. She took that vile thing in her arms and began to coo. Its revolting tongue stretched from its snout and rubbed against her arm, and rather than cry out in horror she simply laughed and said, "Oh, father, what a cute little beastie! Whatever is it called?"
I had no choice but to think of a name. She demanded it as a pet, and I cannot say no to those sweet, crimson eyes. But I refuse to agree to her newest request, a family for the horrid thing. One of these creatures living within the world is horrible enough, but at least I did not create an immortal.
Master Scaly-Tale's death will be the end to his species, mark my words. Never will I allow my beloved Vvardenfell to be overrun by creatures so revoltingly … cute.