The Hunger of the Crimson Queen - Chapter 4
 
 
Ileosa gazed upon the returning vessel carrying the Maidens she had sent on their first mission. She certainly was impressed by their survival, but of course hid her satisfaction in their success. It was possible to see house arkanos burning most brightly, which she must admit…she had missed with her private project of Sabina merrin. The great plate she had once used had needed some adjustment as she had transitioned from the small and tiny prey to full sized prisoners and criminals. The effects of the potion saturation and her new diet had certainly made her grow more impressive. Her breasts heaved and moved with a raw momentum that drew the eye, yet her body was strong enough to accommodate her changes. She smiled with a toothy grin as she moved towards the throne room, hips swaying as her breasts bounced within her newly enlarged bodice. As she took her seat, she regarded her latest work with her bodyguard. Sabina’s new adjusted armour revealed more of her skin, some parts by necessity given her new diet, but some changes were also that suited the aesthetic appeal she preferred. Her breastplate had been infused with an arcane enhancement to help accommodate the growing breasts and assets beneath the armour, while the exposed mouth and midriff were appropriately warded by some small enchantment to help shield them against blades and blows while allowing the maximum freedom for both to accommodate the larger prey. She snapped her fingers as several prisoners were drawn up from the dungeon. If she was to truly celebrate the success of her loyal maidens, she might as well indulge in her new great pleasure as well. She looks towards Sabina who -almost as if on cue- was starting to salivate as she heard the clinking of the prisoners’ chains drawing closer. The doors to the chamber opened and 2 lines of 20 criminal rebels, All radiant women, stripped of their garments and bound, neck collared and bound with a long chain of iron, feet and hands bound with shorter chained manacles. Ileosa grinned her wicked grin, mouth watering, as she reached for the first in the line, her bodyguard following suit with her own.
 
 
Themara was fortunate that her co-workers did not seem to care or mention the glowing lights surrounding her. Her manager meanwhile, saw her new predicament, and seemed fairly impressed. “It’s a unique talent you have there darling. Very few can make lights like that without moving their hands or verbalising it. You think you can keep them up for the dance this evening? I know an opportunity when I see one.” Themara was so blitzed with the information she barely knew how to react. She would have likely mentioned that this was certainly unusual, that it had kind of started out of nowhere, and she was not sure if she even could control it…but then the sack of golden coins hit the table. Now, Themara was good. Certainly skilled enough to draw some coin her way, but the amount there…well she would just be quiet and nod. After all, If it would help her earn some extra gold like this…she might even be able to earn some luxuries for herself. She took the sack and headed backstage to get ready. Nerves were running through her. She tried to control her breathing to settle them. Her first attempt was foiled by another involuntary belch, carrying with it more of the strange flavour to her tongue. Was it a sprite or something she inhaled while sleeping? That might explain the strange feeling she had, but it hardly did anything for her nerves. Deep breathing again to settle her stomach, then a drink for her nerves. The alcohol helped take the edge of her thinking, loosening her inhibitions and making her feel warm, tingly, and buzzing. With liquid courage thoroughly imbibed she was ready to make some money.
 
 
The sounds of music, laughter and conversation were very hard to register for trinia through the surrounding flesh of the dancer's stomach. Right now she needed focus, but the surrounding heat and constant movement was messing with her concentration. Juices dripped over her, soaking her skin and hair, but her protection was holding for now. Though muffled by the gut walls, she could hear a familiar tune, a melody which she knew quite will. ‘The maiden of Sandpoint’, a ballad composed once in the honour of a sandpoint maiden fair, but naturally adjusted to incorporate some bawdiness and the external fate of the bard who did initially compose it. She was familiar with the tale. Of a maiden whose face shone as the radiant moon, a servant of desna, who was seduced by a rogue who pretended to love her, robbed her of her precious treasures, made her forsake her vows, and then left her pregnant and with tears in her eyes. Heartbroken, she seeks revenge years later when the rogue returns to court another, stalking and devouring him whole. She will admit she did have some small love for the tale, though she does feel a little embarrassed to have played both the maiden and the rogue once when an amatuer playwright did a moderately successful production of the tale in korvosa. The money she got from it did help support her passion for artistry, but she never quite forgot the feeling of the stage. Trinia thought and realised a potential solution to her lack of focus. She manoeuvred herself and feeling the sounds of the music shifting and building to a certain point, through herself into performance, her hands and body pressing into the flesh of the stomach, practised motions and strategic manoeuvring flowed through her as she focused on keeping with the music, her body tingling with power as her motions helped act like a magical exhale, her bardic power left mostly dormant for a while, coming forth and flooding her with confidence. The motions around her became less destabilising and distracting as both were in sync. As the ballad reached the final notes, trinia could not help but formulate a gesture to her captor and her magic bubbled up, her spell manifesting forth a thrown bit of voice and a weaved empowerment to the volume and nature of the voice, creating a loud belch noise at the precise moment of the staged belch of the piece. She felt a little drained from the expense of magic, but the massive roar of the crowd was undeniable. She felt the bow and sudden movement into the backstage. A sudden voice spoke, a loud voice, but one meant in the tones of someone speaking quietly. “Hey…can you hear me in there?” Trinia felt her heart beating fast. Someone knew she was in here. And with a frail possibility, a hope of escape.
 
 
The remains of the old hospice of the Blessed maiden had been left quite some time to fester, mostly left abandoned in the wake of the blood veil tragedy. Within its walls, the queen's physicians worked to tend to the sick and the dying, helping to shoulder the burden of the afflicted from the temple. None at the time, save those aware, knew that within the belly of this building, experiments were conducted, not to help stem the affliction but to study and improve it. The cult of urgathoa had operated there in secret on the queen's order, and of course officially, only doctor Daevalus was implicated and charged for their crimes, completely acting against the queen's own wishes. But the plague certainly had left its mark, and not just upon the building. Zenobia Zenderholm walked through these halls once again, as she had done several times this week alone. Compared to the old courtrooms in which she had worked hard in her past life as Arbiter for the church of Abadar, this place was certainly way more dilapidated and sub-standard, but she felt more free here. The plague had been a revelation to Zenderholm. While the rest of the gods remained silent and did nothing to ease her affliction during the blood veil crisis, it was her rejection of her long standing deity abadar and embracing urgathoa that had ensured she not only survived but was empowered. Of course…there were some changes, but zenobia adapted well to her new state of being. She set her stopwatch. She had the evening to do her business, and needed to make sure she was able to be back at the Longacre building before dawn hit, otherwise she was going to need to be shielding herself with magic which could raise some suspicions. She closed her eyes and listened. Boot prints. Heavy set, but not maidens. Korvosan guard. “Well well. Seems I won't need to settle for some vagrant this evening.”. Zenobia glided into the shadows, her feet not touching the ground as she approached the guards silently. 6 of them. 2 male. 4 female. Zenobia smiled. Just enough for her needs and then some extra. She considered her approach as she made her way closer. She could be confident and brazen, but she wanted to ensure none could get away. So she would announce herself a little. “Admiring the handiwork of those heroes?” The guards turned but they relaxed instantly. “Arbiter Zenderholm. Just here to make sure nothing was missed.” Zenobia looked at the sergeant. “Miss Croft obviously thinks she must think that the maidens missed something in their own investigation. I doubt there is much left for you to find.” she said, her tone firm, and stern, but necessary to keep up the ruse. The guardswoman averted her gaze. “I mean if there is nothing here, Cressidia thought maybe this would make for a good safehouse. Just in case I mean. You’ve seen the queen's decrees. They are getting out of hand. Someone needs to do something, or things will only get worse.” Zenobia smirked. Ah yes. Perfect self-implication. “Well then, in that case.” Zenobia said, she extended a hand behind her as a barrier of stone blocked the exit.
 
 
 Sudden realisation dawned on the guards and they swung at her. It was not really a fight. It was a curbstomp. Zenobia moved with speed. Bones cracked as she struck hard, her gaze overwhelming the minds of some of her opponents, and her wounds quickly closed against the few blows they managed to land upon her flesh. As they lay around her or stood transfixed like puppets, she sighed. “Ah. good to see Cressidia still has yet to improve your equipment.” she turned to the dominated guards. “Strip them and bring them over to the inner sanctum.” they nodded obediently and did as she commanded. Zenobia went ahead to the chamber. Here the most damage had been done. The great statue of urgathoa, damaged by battle, and the room marred with scorches and scratches. This certainly would do well for her needs. The bodies of 3 of the guards were carried over to the altar, the other 3 were moved and made to lay upon a great stone table. Zenobia had been moving things into place last week for her purpose and now it was coming into fruition. She removed her corset and dress and set them aside. Her skin shone deathly pale in the light of the candles she lit on the altar and the table. She then set out the items she needed. A great scythe, a great bottle of wine, an onyx symbol to urgathoa, and finally the remains of a creature. It’s form was devastated by battle and a brutal destructive one at that. She was ready. Zenobia called out ”Oh great progenitor of undeath, pallid princess Urgathoa, though your servant was once slain and cast into near oblivion, i beseech you to return her to this world, so that your will may continue to thrive and grow within this city. I offer these souls here as a dedication to your gluttony, that even the lady of death might one day be subsumed by your appetite.” At first, there was nothing, then the sound of buzzing began, the thrum of insects and the wing beats of moths, of a chorus of phantasmic gurgles, and the moans of the numerous souls bound to the divine etheric guts of urgathoa, a female voice, regal and confident, dripping with power like saliva within a maw. “Sweet Zenobia. You are my greatest servant here. This request I will grant you.” the thrumbing grew as the remains on the altar began to twitch and shift. The guards on the altar shifted and rose as the remains started to take shape, becoming more whole and more feminine, becoming closer to what it was in life. As this was occurring, Zenobia gave a prayer of thanks to urgathoa, before reaching for one of the dominated humans, her tongue savouring each part of the guards body, saliva sucking in the girls rustic homely flavour, before Zenobia held her in close and bit into her flesh, her tongue singing as the warm blood flooded into her body. The girl remained still, eyes glazed over, utterly subsumed by Zenobia’s own will as she drank enough to slake her immediate thirst, before zenobia wiped away the blood. She leaned back and with a gesture of utter decadent display, gave the command for the girl to feed herself to her, her mouth lazily parting to allow for the entry of her prey into her body’s depths. Her jaw unhinged beyond its natural limits to accommodate her prey, her tongue soaking in the flavour as she felt the taught sensation of her flesh stretching as the guardwoman's head, shoulders, then bust entered her gullet. Zenobia’s idle hands teased the girls lower folds, before working to cup her rear as she made wet weighty gulps to help pack more in, her throat bulging immensely as the girl was worked down its wet passage into her final resting place of Zenobia’s stomach, which bulged as the growing mass was steadily accommodated. She savoured the last traces as the legs and toes finally disappeared from the outside world, treating the final lick and swallow with the attention that one might provide a lover as one finally says the last goodbye. Zenobia exhaled out of reflex. There was no air she needed to breathe, but she enjoyed the motions of life, though she was no longer living. Letting out a loud belch as she rubbed her distended stomach, feeling the shapely curves of her prey beneath her flesh.
 
 
 She glanced over to the ritual to gauge its progress. The man on the altar being levitated let out a silent scream as his soul was drawn from his body through his mouth into the waiting maw of the creature, whose gulping motions mirrored her own to a degree. Each swallow empowered the creature more, making it more and more whole, with features starting to take shape. A shapely nose and focused gaze, long flowing locks of ectoplasm from the back of her head and clear teeth, fanged and predatory, on prominent display framed by black glossy lips, which immediately got to work devouring the now soulless body of the guardsman. Soon she would move onto the second and 3rd on the altar, and likewise so would Zenobia with her own feast. As the ritual reached its conclusion, both the creature, now clearly the criminal cult leader and orchestrator of the cult of urgathoa’s operations within korvosa, Andaisin, reborn in the form of a daughter of urgathoa, and Zenobia herself were bloated from their feast, their bellies squirming as the remaining living guards struggled feebly against their guaranteed fate, zenobia’s domination deliberately dropped to ensure this result. Both undead looked at each other. The sentiment was shared in a glance as their guts began a digestive chorus of their own, mimicking that of urgathoa’s own gastric instrument. As their bellies slowly smoothed, softened and shrank towards normal, a glow flowed through their bellies as every part, body and soul, was digested and absorbed by the pair. Zenobia smiled and gave a sigh as she looked towards her watch. “Well then my dear, time we headed back to the longacre building. There is much still for us to do, and I feel the guards will come looking for their own in time.” Andaisin nodded and Zenobia redressed herself, stowed the guards equipment, planning on breaking down any recognisable attributes and repurposing them for her own use. Small tokens of her meals…maybe she would keep them to help memorise them, but only as long as she deigned to care. With another gesture, she molded away the wall enough to make an exit for the pair, and with both letting out one last reverberating belch of thanks towards their goddess, the pair flew off into the waning night, leaving the remains of the hospice quiet as the grave.