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Though our heroes now worry and try to determine their next move, another camp was established in the dark parts of the wood's due south 10 miles away. Though the description of a camp would imply a certain idea in military terms, the forces set on taking down Nohr and Hoshido have an antithetical setup to their established base. Many a Faceless and Stoneface monster stands an uneasy idol, akin to decrepit statues awaiting command at a moment's notice. Not immobile, but too still to assign a temperament of a living creature, those not on call for basic commands are standing stalwart in formation outside of a large lavender tent. Inside stands the only things nearby considered living beings, with the large tend divided into smaller subsections. Around a covered center tent await the few living soldiers, kept on staff for more complex tasks that automatons outside are unfit to be able to perform: Large musclebound men wielding gnarled axes and blades solemnly await. But the center-covered area lies the masterminds of the operation.
Ever since Candace found this strange tome, delivered by a mysterious stranger with only the moniker of *quot;a friend,*quot; Candace has found herself with both new powers... and a new appearance. Plump fingers peruse the pages of a dark violet tome, an eerie glow illuminates under her chins, giving way to a contrasting coy smile etched upon her face as she deciphers the arcane runes of this strange tome. She brushes away strands of her long chestnut hair behind her left ear, showing a glowing hue of her once-brown eyes and pink lipstick, now darkened, and employing a strange green tone. This clashes with the worn and torn clothing straining to keep it hold on to the bloated mage.
An outfit of pinks, magenta and white are now matted with the worn colors of the battlefield; died in old blood, dirt and foliage now stained to a more accompanying brown and green to her newer, larger appearance. What was a bit large, somewhere in the lower two-hundred pound range for an average sized female, now is a being that dwarfs the mighty caster's prior form. To think she once used a bow and moved about the battlefield nimbly would now be a consideration of mocking Candace, a feat that none in the tent would dare to attempt. The once large but surprisingly nimble bandit has lost the dexterity she has in surprise. Her rump now Anadolu Yakası Escort spills either side of the large, armless throne she has gathered to accommodate for her growing posterior, a throne large enough to hold the bulk of hulking men like Garon, bordering on needing to track down the seat of the previous king of Nohr.
The shelf of this massive derriere juts out over a foot and able to hold a small collection of books and tomes. Her thunderous thighs have more than doubled in size from a small foot in width each to over four feet when pressed together, with cankles that reach down to the bottoms of her feet. Any amount of physical movement would once chafe would now be enough to start fires without the need of magic. Her sagging, cellulite riddled gut near envelopes her large thighs, barely able to draw attention away from the pair of massive breasts that place watermelons to shame. Her arms as large as her fat-framed face. Still adorn with a button nose and short, sharp eyebrows lies still the cunning wit of a women scorned.
Since her defeat that day long ago against Midori and her village, the humiliation she suffered being apart of the Corrin's armed forces as punishment for her transgressions. Though the free meal and board was the worst end of a bargain, it was seeing the female soldier's preferential treatment over herself. Candace was as fine a specimen of a female she felt, yet little did she garner the attention of soldiers in the army. Corrin this, Camilla that, even that brat Midori had her fans. Expect for one, a no bodyguard that watched over her cell, Bartholomew. There was a man who could at least see worth and gave her the time of day! Oh, how she yearned for conversation with him once more!...
*quot;I WILL get my revenge!*quot;
Candace scorns quietly to herself, being distracted by the flap of the tent moving. Her closes her special tome and focuses on the attendant disturbing her reading.
She gestures to the kneeling messenger,
*quot;What is it? Speak!*quot;
The nervous man stands as fast as he can and salutes, a slight tremble erupts through his being as her give notice to his commander,
*quot;Y-your Majesty Candace, Corrin's border guard has halted all searches in the surrounding area and has concentrated their forces back to the camp. None of the spies have noticed Kadıköy Escort movement in the commander tent-*quot;
*quot;EXCELLENT, My spell WORKED!*quot;
*quot;W-well, we cannot confirm tha-*quot;
A purple eldritch blast hits the poor spy in the chest. It sends him flying a few feet back, landing on his side. He tries to get up, but finds he is expanding in all directions. Hundreds of pounds start to spill forth from his core in mere moments, his leather armor and boots torn to shred by the sheer mass and velocity of the growth. The poor spy goes from a muscle-clad man just shy of 6 feet to a semi-spherical blob of flesh with bulging eyes and a crushed skeleton.
*quot;Guards! Take away this sack of filth!*quot;
A few more muscular individuals come inside and begin the process of rolling the large flesh failure of magic to the outside to feed the mounts. Candance beings to cackle, first quietly, then building to an indulgent chortle with her thick hand angled outward from her first chin. The indulgent laughter sends undulating waves throughout her mass, easily over four hundred pound of magical mayhem ebb and flow from the crooked cackle, barely containing itself in her obvious desire to unleash her more of her might on show the wronged her and those she cared for,
*quot;Seems I still need to reel in my magic against the more martial types... Let us hope Camilla and Corrin figure that out as well~!*quot;
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Bordercamp of Corrin]
The five-foot women clad in black sits back down on her now-plush behind, exasperated on stopping the spread of the mysterious hex. Her choker-shoulder garment finally gives way, snapping audibly to the new-found girth of Nyx's neck. The already scantily clad mage already left little to the imagination with the thin veil that covered her body, now barely covers the new-found gut jutting out of the thickened core, with tears around her upper arms as the pounds of flesh manifested from the expenditure of magic.
Nyx was barely able to quell the expanse in herself, but the poor solider, Sophia, that brought in Camilla has taken a bludgeoning force of mass that eclipses Nyx's growth easily. From a size six to a size forty-six is not an easy transition for anyone over a more grounded amount of time in years spans, but İstanbul Escort to do so in the span of an hour has taken its toll. The half-plate armor pieces lay around the tent in torn metal bits, barely able to be taken off before limbs and appendages were strangled. The velocity of the growth helped in that manner, able to push the hard-to-disrobe pieces in a frightening pace. What was strong, muscly yet amply adorn with a d-cup breasts in an accompanying hourglass figure now exploded outward, with mammoth hips and breasts to spare for four women easily. Instead, is now over half a meter wide hips and K-cup breasts laying atop of a sizable stomach, its any wonder a woman her size can maintain an hourglass shape, albeit an hourglass sized comically for stage effect rather than practicum. She rests with her back against the table that Camilla lays atop of, cushioned with her new-found padding of flesh abound her, passed out from the drawn-out process of the hex's work against her mundane body. Nyx sighs, resting atop of a creaking chair against her newfound weight,
*quot;I don't know how I can keep this up,*quot; Nyx worries internally, *quot;even now I feel the feral might of his curse wrecking my being...*quot; She finds herself in labored breath, barely keeping it to herself, trying to quietly suffer and not stir up more issues to the burgeoning breadth of curse women in this tent. Her eyes turn to the provisions slid into the tent, a steaming meal of freshly baked poultry, ripe fruits, and melting cheeses on toast. Enough for a feast for twelve, uncursed individuals. But the lethargy of magical turmoil along with a newly found ravenous hungry, Nyx fears the consequences of indulging the yearning of food her body has put into overdrive. But seldom has Nyx felt this kind of yearning for sustenance, not since crossing the sands and empty plains of the Wind Tribes domain with Corrin during the war.
The moan of Sophia brings Nyx back from her thoughts, going over and fidgeting with the curse that wracks the poor soldier's body. She was able to stop the growth once more, but not before a button from her barely held together tunic-made-outstretched-bra comes flying off. Nyx drops behind her, sweat pouring down from her face from the exertion of magic.
*quot;I cannot keep doing this... At least, not on an empty stomach.*quot;
Nyx crawls over the provisions, drops of sweat plop atop her hands as she crawls through the carpeted tent. Just as she is about to reach the edge of the tray with her outstretched hand, consciousness escapes her, falling with a soft plop atop her fleshy stomach, new-found breasts, and enlarged thighs.