Tarnished Feast- Part 1

Blaidd comes across a strange tavern in the Mistwood that shouldn't be there, and an overly friendly innkeeper with lots of food. You can see where this is going~ Enjoy!

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Blaidd scanned the horizon, watching for any hostile entities on the horizon. The half-wolf was travelling through the Mistwood, on another task for Ranni. She commanded, and he obeyed; even if it meant trudging through waist-deep marsh water and fighting through hordes of angry monstrous crows and rune bears, through sleepless and cold nights and hot and arduous days. She needed to know if certain monsters were still active in the area, and if they were, Blaidd was to kill them, which he had been. There was another reason he had been drawn to the Mistwood, however— Darriwil. This had nothing to do with Rainni's commands, but he and Darriwil had a score to settle. Even so, he had seen no sign of the Bloodhound Knight, and he was extremely tired; he never had much need for creature comforts, but what he wouldn't give for a warm meal and a hot bath, and something good to drink… then, he stopped in his tracks.

The wolf frowned as he looked ahead of him. Down the road was a building he had never seen on any of his scouting expeditions— ringed in by a neat stone wall was a large, timber-frame structure, with warm light pouring through the windows.

"...What?" Blaidd muttered to himself, narrowing his eyes. He trudged forward, keeping a wary eye out— Ranni had warned him about illusions and mirages, but he couldn't fully complete his expedition without investigating.

As he got closer, he could smell a roast cooking— only accentuating his hunger; he had run out of rations some days ago, and had to rely on foraging for a while now. He frowned, looking the building over. There was a hanging sign over the front door, with a fanciful picture of a wolf with a round belly and a big, wide grin.

"'Hunt's End…' Huh." He murmured, reading the sign. He was no fool; the safe thing would be to turn around and keep moving. He was about to do so and reassess the situation before the door to the tavern opened. The wolf furrowed his brow, slowly reaching for his sword— but then stopped, his brow furrowing.

"Blaidd! There you are!"

The wolf looked the figure up and down; they were human, with bright eyes and dark hair,  dressed in fine clothes. He blinked, trying to place them. There was something familiar about this man. "Do I… know you?"

"I— Well, we fought together, some time ago," the human ran a hand over his head. "You might not remember."

"I have fought with many mercenaries and adventurers over the years…" Blaidd said apologetically. "What do I call you?"

"Call me Aralt," the human put a hand to his heart. "I'm Tarnished, if that helps."

"Not really," Blaidd chuckled bashfully. "There's been so many Tarnished around these days. I am sorry, truly."

"It's alright, really. Please, come in, come in." Aralt gestured inside the tavern. Again, Blaidd caught the smell of something delicious inside. 

The wolf smiled tightly, pushing down the small bit of temptation. "I appreciate that, but I am on a mission— perhaps just something for the road?" Blaidd was watching this situation closely. He was still incredibly suspicious— but he had to test the waters. Was this some trap of Darriwil's? Maybe, but he doubted it. Darriwil was never one for clever craft, far less going to all the trouble of building a probably enchanted tavern in the middle of the Mistwood.

Aralt thinned his lips, hesitating for a few moments, then looked up to meet Blaidd's eyes. "Darriwil is going to be here in a few days. He sent word."

Blaidd snapped his head down to meet Aralt, clamping a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "What did you say? Where did you hear that name?"

"From you," Aralt replied. "When we last talked together."

Blaidd narrowed his eyes. "You swear that Darriwil is coming here?"

"Oh, absolutely," Aralt nodded emphatically. 

Blaidd twisted his mouth, stroking his chin deep in thought. "Very well. I'm choosing to trust you, Aralt, if you are indeed a friend." He reached for his sword meaningfully. "But if I get a hint of treachery, I won't hesitate hastening you to the same end I have in mind for Darriwil."

Aralt held up his hands. "I swear, Blaidd— I only want to help you."

Blaidd canted his head, staring down at the Tarnished, and then nodded curtly. "Very well. I would not mind being well-rested for any fight in my near future."

He bent his head to fit through the doorway. The inside of the tavern was unlike anything he had seen in a long while; well built, comfortable, and brightly lit— a roaring fire was set in both a grand stone fireplace and a spit, where a large, suckling pig was slowly being roasted. Blaidd rumbled softly; that was the delicious smell he had sensed earlier.

"Here," Aralt produced a knife and plate, and began piling it with a generous portion of bacon, warm bread, cheese, and a leg of mutton. "Kale mentioned that you might like this."

Blaidd's brow bounced. "You know Kale?" That made him ease up a little. The wanderer was a busybody, but a good one to know. 

Aralt grinned, nodding as he passed the full plate and a tankard filled with frothy ale. "Please— by all means. Eat your fill."

The wolf stared down at the human, and then to the generously filled plate. He hadn't seen a meal like that in a very long time. "...Thank you."

He settled down at a table, and took his first bite. He groaned pleasurably, sinking further into the seat, letting all the care and weariness from the road fall off his shoulders. "Oh… By the Stars, that's lovely…"

Aralt grinned, clasping his hands together tentatively. "You like it?"

"Oh, it's bloody fantastic— Mmph." Blaidd dug deeper into the food, his eyes rolling back as a particularly juicy morsel hit his tongue. 

"I'm glad— I'm really glad. Please, take as much as you like."  

Blaidd let out his first genuine laugh in some time. "Don't tempt me. There's a reason there are phrases around like 'wolfing down' and 'hungry like the wolf.'"

"Don't worry— I've not forgotten," Aralt grinned. "Nor have I forgotten your penchant for Volcano Manor Rum." He said, topping off Blaidd's tankard.

"You have that? Bloody brilliant," Blaidd laughed, before tipping his tankard back and drinking deeply. "Ah— That's nectar." He smiled easier at Aralt. "Thanks, friend."

"Anything you please, Blaidd, just let me know."

The wolf dug deep into the food placed before him— and entirely unaware of the subtle magical effects it was having on him. No sooner had he polished off his plate than he turned to Aralt to have it refilled. With each bite, the enchantments woven into the food began reaching into Blaidd, easing him more and more into comfort. 

Aralt was always there, ready to loosen the straps of his armor to ease the weight and even helping him out of his breastplate, chainmail, and gambeson. He was starting to feel underdressed— but his new, or old, friend was making him feel too at ease to really worry about it. 

All the while, that magnificent food came forward in a seemingly endless bounty: mutton, rich, hearty stews, roasted pork and venison, bacon, cheese, fresh, warm bread, fresh fruit that he hadn't seen in ages, he always felt like he could go for just one more bite, a little morsel for the road. Indeed, when would he ever have a chance to have something like that again? He couldn't pass it up when it was placed right in front of him.

Admittedly, it wasn't all perfect. The longer the meal went on, the more he felt the furniture begin to become uncomfortable— that was hardly Aralt's fault, though. He couldn't expect the human to build a tavern to accommodate a ten foot tall half wolf. He did take a note that he would need to sleep soon, however. He was beginning to feel so heavy, and even if it was just a set of furs on the floor by the fire, it would be more comfortable than he had slept in weeks. 

He wasn't seeing what Aralt was seeing; the human watched as the wolf gorged himself on a staggering amount of food, and his lean warrior's physique melted away, buried under a landslide of extra weight and overstuffed flesh. He removed the wolf's armor as the leather straps grew taut or the chainmail began to chafe, leaving room for an expanding belly augmented by magic to make it grow larger and larger, soon a massive grey boulder that spilled out in hefty reams. The rest of him soon followed suit; the wolf's legs grew thick and doughy, round as beer kegs, wide hips holding up the overhang of his belly and the layered folds of back fat piling up. His rump alone would overflow and crush the benches he had in the tavern, while his face rounded and filled out, his arms thick and flabby.

The enormous, gluttonous creature that Blaidd ate himself into was content to graze, lumbering and waddling from table to table in the tavern, grabbing at whatever food Aralt set out.

Aralt could only stare— he was beginning to wonder if he had taken this a bit too far. "Uh… Blaidd? Is there anything in particular you need?"

The wolf snorted, looking back to Aralt. On some level, he was aware of the massive heft of his body— he could feel the weight on his body, the hefty, space-filling mass— but strangely, he wasn't particularly bothered by it at the moment. "Huh? Oh, yes— get me some more of the suckling pig, if there's any left—" Blaidd gave a crooked smile that pushed against his rounded cheeks, before smacking his now enormous, bass drum of a gut. "I need to keep up my strength to prepare for Darriwil."