The Tarnished Feast- Part 2

Blaidd had some second thoughts about gorging himself- but then settled on a second course. Enjoy!

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Blaidd grunted awake— he had fallen asleep in the tap room of the Hunt's End, again. The half-wolf shook his head, groaning softly as he blinked awake, smacking his lips. His very first thought was drifting towards breakfast, but then, Blaidd stopped when an errant thought slipped inside his head. How long had he been here, in this tavern, with an overly eager, overly helpful Aralt? He had lost track of the days, and he had been thinking of nothing but eating. All that talk about getting stronger, keeping his strength up for Darriwil had blown up in the half-wolf's face; he had to strain, taking a mighty heave as he pulled himself to his feet, the enormous, ponderous belly he had grown in what felt like a short time a heavy weight that he realized to his horror spread out in all directions; he could hardly see any part of his body beneath it, and any thought of fitting into his armor was now nothing short of laughable.

He huffed, shaking his head as he felt everything jiggling at the slightest movement— how he had let this happen to himself, he couldn't begin to think… and then he heard commotion in the tavern's kitchen. He took a few laborious, waddling steps, thighs thick as keg barrels rolling off one another. His feet were already aching, carrying such a heavy load, and to his horror, Blaidd realized how long he must have been off his feet.

Aralt, the Tarnished and Blaidd's host, backed out of the kitchen, brushing an errant strand of hair out of his eye as he had a loaf of fresh bread under the other. "Oh! Blaidd. I didn't think you'd be up yet. Already hungry? Oof!"

The blubbery beast growled, stomping forward as his belly knocked into Aralt. "What did you do to me?!"

Aralt gasped, the Tarnished scrambling a bit as he pushed his hands deep into the thick folds of belly fat pressing in against him. "H-hold on, Blaidd, I can explain—!"

"Explain? Explain what?!" Blaidd growled. "Are you in league with Darriwil? Has this all been a trap?"

"...Blaidd?"

The half-wolf's ears flattened as he turned back in the direction of the raspy voice. The beast beheld a lean, gangly creature, covered in armor from head to toe, his face covered by a knight's helm. "Darriwil."

The Bloodhound Knight let out a rattling laugh. "Look at you! By the Rot, how could you let this happen to you? Or are you really just a beast, unable to control your appetite?" Darriwil snickered, running the tip of his claw under the overhang of Blaidd's round, bulbous belly. 

Blaidd's ears flattened. "I don't need to be svelte to destroy you, Darriwil."

Another rattling laugh as Darriwil, beastly himself, fell to all fours and lunged at Blaidd, his claws bared. The obese half-wolf had no chance to dodge Darriwil, and so he only braced himself for impact— his opponent struck at him with all the power of a battering ram, and knocked Blaidd onto his overly plush rump, the half-wolf grunting heavily as he hit the floor— and yet, he realized how little pain he felt, so thickly swaddled in rolls of fat as he was. Darriwil, brandishing his long claws, jabbed one fist into the flabby wolf's gut— only to pull back, realizing he had not drawn a drop of blood.

"What?" Darriwil snarled. Blaidd, thinking fast, realized what this meant— he had a layer of armor, after all. As Darriwil tried to keep his hold on Blaidd, the half-wolf began rocking back and forth to build up momentum, excess blubber sloshing across his rotund form, furiously trying to get himself back on his feet as his opponent tried to keep him pinned down. With a burst of energy, Blaidd found the momentum to get up on his feet, but then almost instantly lose his footing— he fell forward, and Darriwil could hardly get out of the way as Blaidd hit the ground hard enough to rattle the floorboards. The Bloodhound Knight was smothered under a tidal wave of Blaidd's own belly, pinned to the floor.

"Ah— Hah…" Blaidd gasped for breath, gulping down the air. "...Is he still moving?"

Aralt, who had plastered himself against the wall during the confrontation, cautiously moved forward, crouching down. "Uhm… Doesn't seem to be, no."

Blaidd nodded, muzzle sinking into his double chin. "Right. Then… that's done. And I'm getting out of here." The half-wolf grunted as he slowly heaved himself back up, huffing from the effort as he planted one hand atop the cresting curve of his belly. "And I'm getting out of here," he growled.

Aralt rushed to join him. "W-wait! Uh… Didn't you say you wanted an explanation?"

Blaidd scoffed, waddling towards the tavern's door. As he reached it, he could feet his flabby sides beginning to press up against the doorframe. The half-wolf's mouth twisted, but he glanced back at Aralt. "No. No more honeyed words— Darriwil is defeated, so I won't take out vengeance against you for your tricks, but I'm leaving."

Blaidd took a step forward, and grunted as he felt his belly press forward, and then dam the doorway like it was holding back a river. "Oh, for the love of—!" Blaidd grunted, pushing against the door frame.

"Blaidd! Please," Aralt rushed to his side, tugging on one thick arm. "You keep pushing like that, you'll actually get stuck."

Blaidd snarled, the half-wolf pulling himself back inside. "Dammit!" He turned on Aralt, growling low. "What is your plan then, trickster? Why do this to me?" He demanded, hefting up as much of his belly as he could manage in his two hands before letting it drop, bouncing and swaying.

Aralt held up his hands. "I'll explain everything. No lies, no deception or half-truths. The whole truth—" He gestured back towards the table. "Shall I tell you over breakfast?"

Blaidd scoffed, and was about to say something indignant before his huge stomach growled mightily. He placed one hand on his belly, then looked to Aralt, then the food he had managed to summon to the table— another tantalizing spread with fresh bread, bowls of sweets, still-sizzling sausages and flanks of meat, and anything anyone would want. Narrowing his eyes, Blaidd rumbled. "Fine. But I only stay until the end of the explanation— if you try to stop me leaving after that, I'll put a hole in the wall if I have to."

Aralt nodded. "That's fair enough."

The Tarnished brought out every one of Blaidd's favorite dishes, plying him with his most tempting foods as he began to explain. Blaidd listened as Aralt began to tell him of things the Tarnished had no way of knowing without some kind of mystical power— things about him, about Ranni, and about his own future— it was a bit grim. Aralt's conclusion was that, if Blaidd continued down his path, he would be driven to madness. The more Aralt spoke, however, the hungrier Blaidd felt. He had resolved not to eat another bite, but he felt his inhibitions lowered, temptation winning, and soon there wasn't a breath he took while he listened that wasn't punctuated by hungry bites.

And this, what could possibly be Aralt's last feast for Blaidd, did its work. Plate after plate, dish after dish, honeyed fruit and pastries, succulent meats of every kind, rivers of ale aside, the half-wolf's body began to grow again, for all the food stuffed into him. He barely noticed as his belly sank to the floor, while the upper half spilled over the top of the table like an oncoming flood. His bench-breaking rear was in a race with his stomach to see what part of his enormously bloated, flabby body could cover the most floor space, while his near-useless legs, thicker around than they were long several times over. 

The half-wolf grunted, sausage fingers wrapping around another leg of mutton, arms reamed in fat wobbling as he lifted it to his greedy mouth while his free hand rested atop the sprawling, bloated mass of his chest, lying languidly atop the vast curvature of his gut. He picked the bone clean, just as Aralt finished his story.

"And that… is where things stand. If you stay here, if you don't go on to the Marshes, you might be able to avoid such a terrible fate."

"I see…" Blaidd cleared his throat. "Well. I thank you for telling me, but it is a lot, to simply live here the rest of my days… I'll tell you what," Blaidd grinned. "I'll chew on it— but only if you have something good planned for dessert."