Fire Emblem (Fat)es Pt. 05

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Mozu’s Village, 4 days later

The small village working with the tilled grains for the Hoshido Empire may look like any other. Iridescent lamps light the small, dirt-packed roads, all that are dividing the dozens of small wooden homes that form this collaboration of existence. The chirping of crickets is all that fill the night air, but none of the buzzing of insects would disturb the apothecary that is working while the rest of the hamlet of villager’s slumber, whose indirect attempts at equalizing the concert of crickets through constant work to be a close match if walking next to her home. All you would see of one of the open windows, held open with a small block of wood, would be the burning dim light of a personal lamp, leaving to barely illuminate the large room of a home, filled to the brim with parchment, ink, food, and, most of all, varying samples of plant life. Nonetheless, one peering inside would note that, near the lamp, would be a brown-haired woman, too busy incessantly scribbling her observations of a recent plant that came into her possession than to notice anyone observing her.

Finding herself working through the wee hours of the night, in a home she built on the site of her family dying, to be hard to chew on. Despite the trauma that the biologist survived through, after many years, she was able to come back and settle down. Though working under Ryoma was the greatest of services she could ever hope to give, and gained much in return, she still felt something was missing. Even years of delving into her research, cataloging all she could get her hands on of the wilds of Hoshido and Nohr, she felt all the accolades she earned to be nothing more than tinder of an ever-consuming fire, growing in rage rather than dying out. A few months ago, after taking a trip to her village’s forest to collect some of the more common variants of honeysuckle, she finally felt something that eased her being for the first time in years. After returning to the capitol, she found herself thinking of the beautiful foliage of greens that those woods would provide her, the shelter she used often in her life. The shelter that protected her life. After weeks of the invasive feelings of yearning to return, she found that what she felt must have been the call of her simple, country life, beckoning her back to the very grounds of her home. With little else to latch onto, she found having anything to remind her of her family, her mother, to comfort her weary heart. The request that would mean the world to Mozu was barely a blip to those in charge, and quickly granted her request to set up a field base for her to conduct her research.

With renewed vigor and an unshaken dedication, Mozu took the opportunity seriously, working on ways to make her tonics and medicine the best they can be. But when Saizo delivered the news of the border and what has been happening to her dear friends, she had no choice but to examine what Saizo found and how it can help her efforts in Kanpo arts to create something to combat the strange curse. The strange white herb may seem to be a host to fungi or a dying leaf as the season transitions, but to Mozu, there was much more to this plant. Said to have been wrought by the tears of ancient Naga, this white leaf glows in many colors when held up to oil lamps. Dragon Herb.

In all the excitement of getting her hands on such a rare plant, the poor girl has mindlessly nibbled on some Dang Shen root she harvested a few days ago. The root is supposed güvenilir bahis to help her stomach process some of the stress she has been feeling in her stomach. Small sparks of purple jumped from many of the ends of the roots she had dried and sat in a small bowl. Though the strange energy does nothing upon touch, its effects have become more known as the poor girl toils away at her research. Subconsciously, she tugs at the knots of her white torso band, trying to loosen the once-sized ensemble for her…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Candace’s Campsite, Unknown

A bandit rushes into the inner sanctum of his leader to relay news to her, only to be met with a sickening site. Strewn around the inner tent lies dehydrated corpses, rough half a dozen the confused bandit can notice in the low green light from the opposite side of the tent entrance that barely illuminates the area. The sickly hue also reveals each of the bodies that lay about are absent of skin and blood, not a drop dirties the patted dirt ground the encompasses most of the ground, now more of a mass grave that has yet to be dug or burned than the tent of their lavish leader. More disturbing is the few bodies he does notice look to be frozen in action, trying to claw either towards the entrance he came from, or digging their fingers into their own bodies, trying to strip some invisible force away from them, now frozen in posistions of uncomfortable death.

“Who enters MY tent without permission?” A voice calls to the bandit who just entered, drawing his attention toward the source of the green flame. He squints, starting deep into this void of death that is the heart of the camp, feeling as a shrew who stumbled upon the den of a snake who sups for seconds. A small cackle interrupts his frozen fear thought process, speaking out to him in a sultry voice,

“Oh, is it a bit dim in here? Hmmm… Let me fix that!” A snap of fingers was heard by the messenger, as the green flame flows towards the top center of the room and intensifying, revealing onto him a more ghoulish sight. It was not just a half a dozen corpses, nor just humanoid. It seemed whatever game from yesterday that was brough in for rations was victim of whatever happened in this tent, as well as other soldiers and even broken corpses of a few stonefaces lay about, crumbled into grainy bits of pebbles and grey flesh that was once a semblance of animated life. The clicking of boots breaks his stare, seeing an unfamiliar sight. The leader as he knows her is no longer visible. What was close to a facsimile of a human in blob form that could not move from a stained stone throne, now said throne is empty and clean. Instead, a vaguely similar, if you can call anything similar, (save from some facial features of lips, nose, eyebrows, and eyes), angular humanoid walking towards him.

With no other thought coming to mind except self-preservation, the bandit tries to make a heel turn to run, facing the safety of the outside tent of vagabonds and ruffians looking in, noting what he could not; a green tendril wrapping around his leg and whisking him back into the green void of the tent flaps the eerily eek out, along with the single sad yelp of the bandit.

Dragging upon the disgusting ground, his mas tearing through the brittle corpses, bits of bone and flesh getting caught up in his hair, skin, and various pits, muffles further screams. This effort in vocalizing his fear is cut short when güvenilir bahis siteleri he is lifted into the air and held upside-down while the witch approaches him.

“Charles, my pet, why would you run. After all, don’t you need to tell ‘big ol’ Candace,” She says mockingly with air quotes with her left hand, the right hand held aloft, controlling the green energy, “what it is you saw out on your last scouting expedition? I’m starved to know what Corrin and her ilk are up to… Or would it be down to? You know, on account her of size?”

The bandit, Charles, seems befuddled on how to approach the conversation.

“Did she mean for me to speak? Oh gods, I don’t want to die, what should I say? Should I say anything? Think think THINK! Wait, how did she know about my talking about her? Does she know everything I’ve said? Did she hear about how her rear sunk the hoshidan navel? Gods I hope she didn’t hear last night’s talk with the guys? Crap, I don’t want to die!?”

Whether it was reading his face or reading his mind, neither of which seemed difficult to infer at this point, as Candace began to chortle a deep belly laugh, a familiar thing about her beyond the scraps of intel Charles could gather here or there.

“Boy, you think allot! I thought there would be nothing in there? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point, all of you seem repetitive at this point! But yes, I heard everything,” Candace coos to the poor soul, as a long, thick tongue slurps out of her fine, lush green lips. The dark red tendril tapers to a long point, then splits at a fork, seeming to belong to a large serpent than a human. Is a human standing before him? Charles could feel tears starting to run up his forehead, mixing with the pouring sweat he is exerting from the panic he feels. Unexpectedly, he feels the force around his burning right light release him

*Gush*

The sickening sounds of a corpse with some missed liquid cushions his fall, feeling bile reach around his ears, almost trying to enter his ear canal. With a yelp, Charles sits up, trying to wipe away the green puss he found himself in the cavity of a torso of a Stoneface’s corpse. A strong stomp nearby draws his attention away from the gross liquid, a boot crushing the skull of one of his presumed compatriots that went missing. The thin woman bends down, her outfit, a long green and black dress which tails split into three, reveals her generous grapefruit-sized breasts. Even scared, the pour soul couldn’t help a glance at the window dressing she presents, a small chuck illuminate above them,

“Awww, now Charles looks upon this ‘bloated whale’,” she continues air quoting with both hands, next to her chest to frame and emphasize the sight, once more drawing his attention to them, “am I worthy of you attention now? Do you yearn to plunge yourself like a harpoon into this fetch of a catch now?”

Candace beckons Charles with her right index fingers, curling and drawing the trapped bandit in with an obvious trap. The words she speaks penetrates deeper than the puss into his ears, scratching at his brain to brave forth into unexplored lands.

Thought leaving logic, the bandit dives headfirst into his leader, beginning to motorboat himself into her bosoms. The soft sensation, even for the DD size udders he has found himself in, seem much larger and softer than he first thought. Soon, synapses of his brain start to fire beyond the hormones, noting that his arms should reach around the size iddaa siteleri eight women before him with ease, noting his arms give way into softest of flesh. The instinct to shove himself away is muffled into his subconscious, as he finds the sensation great, wonderful even.

What Charles does not realize is the figure he saw with his mortal eyes tricked him, only an illusion that Candace has placed up. Though now walking around is a reality, her size has not shrunk. Rather, the now five-hundred-pound women sits down upon her substantial stock, dragging Charles with her, though he seems not to fight the change in momentum. The black and green attire is the same, save for the adjustments for Candace’s copious form. After shushing the hormonal humanoid in her generous grip, she whispers in his ear, with her eyes glowing a deep green and purple,

“Now Charles, what did you find.”

“Ahh, uhh, yes, Corrin is easily approaching your, er-, prior form’s size, your loveliness, though she moves as she once, even faster!”

“WHAT?”

She drops the man from her grip, though he finds himself fixated at his current position to her generous assets. Her intensity almost broke her concentration that’s calming the scout with her illusion, noting a slight flicker in the dazed look in Charles, taking a brief reprieve of flesh to look into her gaze.

“Wha-, heyyyy, whats-s-s happenin’ to me? Are youuu okayyy?”

Turning back to her pray, she once more speaks softly,

“Yes Charles, and you are going to be just fiiiiine,” her speech starts to elongate the vowel as her hand glows with green and, by tucking the bandit’s auburn hair behind his right ear, gently grasps her hand around his neck as she starts inciting an incantation,

“*absorbuit animam de slachtoffer, dracones bibere!*”

With the ancient tongue spoken, the green energy quickly dissipates into the target for a moment, and just as Candace draws her hand away from his neck, no longer clenched between her bosom, slumps to the ground on her knees, eyes beginning to dart back and forth though caught in deep slumber. Just has he starts to slump forward, the green radiance expels out of the target, spiraling in the air until meeting the casters maw. Her forked tongue starts to play with the energy, enjoying the tantalizing essence of the human being he is drying up to feed into herself. All of his hopes, his dreams, his wants, his desires, his passions, his greed. All implode upon her taste buds in a sensation of umami and sweet, a sensation little experienced in a human’s normal lifespan. Yet, Candace indulges it, and with every soul, more and more of her power grows. The more her power grows, so to does her form change and expand, adding on to her voluptuous figure, giving girth yet form. Not of the blobs she creates out to those before, but of form without flaw, no riddance of cellulite upon her now. Glowing purple and green scales cover her arms and legs. These are soft yet small enough to tell little difference between human flesh, but coloration give evidence to magic, yet effortlessly give way to the tan flesh, vibrate with the lives she has been absorbing into her own.

“Yesss, it seems letting them sow their own seeds of destruction will prove no gains of grain for me… Maybe I need to up the ante a bit. It seems this sssspell can make use of those more magically inclined a bit more… ussseful!”

Exiting the tent in full illusions, the falsely fit Candace exits the tent and calls out,

“Summon my best witches! We are in for a treat!”

She cracks a wicked smile as the order bellows out the outer tent sanctum of curious onlookers. They start to scramble away upon hearing the deafening request from their leader.

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