An idea from 99olidan for a kobold bodyswapping with a Paladin.

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The bishop had been too generous in describing this place as a dragon's lair when he'd sent the young paladin on his quest. It was more of a warren really. Even stooping, Lytar's muscular soldiers scraped against the low stone roof. And the 'dragons' were barely more than vermin, skittish little creatures that refused to stand and take a sermon to the face like any self-respecting monster. They would dart out of the shadows to strike, only to scurry away before he was even a third of the way through reciting Hierophant Eryndor's Litany of Divine Vanguard. They had forced Lytar to resort to the messy business of cleaving his way through the tunnels, supplementing his sword strikes with some of the shorter epistles.

The pests were fond of traps too. He was having to pay very close attention to where he put his feet. A panel sank beneath his boot, and a log swung down from a hidden hole in the ceiling. Paladins did not dive like some cowardly rogue. He stood his ground, raising his shield to take the blow. It clanged like a bell, the impact shattering his arm. Through gritted teeth, he set the pulverized bits of bone back into place with a Word of healing, while three of the creatures took opportunity of the distraction to gnaw at his ankles. A sharp Word and a wave of holy fire sent them back from whence they came.

It brought him a moment of reprieve. At last the narrow tunnel opened into a broad space lit by a shaft of daylight. In the center was placed an altar of rough-hewn stone, surrounded by a pile of copper coins, broken human weaponry, and tarnished trinkets. Resting atop the altar was something that caught Lytar’s attention - a marred, red soulstone.

The creature's paltry offerings cracked beneath his boots as he approached. He was wary, being taught of these stones. They were among the most profane objects in creation, with the ability to entrap souls, removing them from the cycle of life and death, and denying them their final judgment. But the surface of this one was scarred and pitted, with a huge fracture that almost cleaved its interior in two. A soulstone's facets had to be flawless to maintain its prison. A damaged one like this was incapable of entrapping anything. But harmless or not, its very existence was a desecration of the natural order. He would delight in crushing such a profanity between his fingers for his God, and seized it eagerly.

"You no take crystal!"

A female reptile flung itself from the walls, digging her claws into his hand. The soulstone flared, suddenly hot against his palm. He thrashed his arms but the gem was fused to his skin as firmly as if by sovereign glue. Blood trickled down his arm as the female bit down on his finger, while an inexorable pulling sensation grew within, like some force was tearing at his soul. His body felt cold and distant. From within his throat, a radiance began to spill.