"Shall we...?" the figure croaks, its towering form heading back towards the rows of men and woman before I weakly join in behind it.
Shuffling along I look out through the rows of slumped and seemingly lifeless forms of all shapes and sizes. My eyes go wide as the balding man a few rows down approaches the slumbering snake woman, his hand reaching out to her fanged maw. In an instant he is gone, the woman lunging forward on instinct as her jaw hinges and her lips rapidly slide down the mans torso and past his legs and feet.
I let out a cry of shock, my embarrassing shriek soon being followed by various other 'patrons' around the warehouse as we watch the bulge that was the middle aged man slide down the dark haired woman's throat and into the bulk of her long scaled body.
Suddenly, her eyes flash with a faint sickly green light as her whole body shudders. Before long her fit seems to die down, the wide eyed stare stemming from her predatory eyes being far removed from the vacant stare of the rest of the bodies around us.
"Thissssss..." she hisses, her naked upper body lurching backwards and forward as if struggling to stay upright. "Will take ssssssome getting usssed to" she cackles, a long forked tongue flickering from her lips as her hands quickly set out fondling her sizeable chest gleefully.
"Each require filling... different body... different means" the robed figure ahead of me explains, pausing for a moment as he gestures to a nearby coffin. "We start here, yes?"
Laying in the red velvet lined coffin sits a deathly pale young woman barely into her early twenties. Her body lays lip in the upright varnished wooden casket, the form fitting shape of the frame allowing her to be stood up with only leaning the makeshift bed back ever so slightly.
Wavy red hair cascades down to her shoulder blades, the long shimmering crimson strands appearing as though a voluminous pillow to cushion her delicate head and shoulders. Her vacant eyes hold open in a blank stare, the dark red pools looking out sending a chill down my spine while her fanged maw hangs open. Gorgeous would be understating it, the beautiful young woman's features appearing to be perfectly crafted to catch the eye and steal the heart.
Her slender frame is draped in a black and red lace dress, the red fabric beneath showing through the gaps in the black lace that traipses over her voluminous bust and up her delicate neck. My eyes linger on the two large puncture marks in the pale flesh, my gaze shifting between her fangs and the marks before dropping to her long and impossibly sharp nails.
"Camila..." the figure states plainly slowly walking around the woman in her coffin bed. "Crimson Maiden... 'Baroness' in name alone..."
"She's a... a..." I mutter, trying to speak but feeling the breath pulled from my lungs the longer I remain in the beautiful yet frightening woman's' presence. The figure pauses, it's 'head' tilting to one side as it inspects me before returning to its laps.
"Child of night... drinker of blood... yes, yes" the figure explains, slowly completing the lap before standing beside me. "Immortal... powerful... made powerful enemies over centuries... poor decisions" the figure continues, it's floating strides moving in between myself and the vampire as I feel myself finally able to catch my breath.
"Elder vampires have effect on weak cattle..." the figure explains, the strange entity not mincing words. "We apologize... we show you more..."
Keeping itself between my and the sight of the hollowed out vampiress, the figure slowly guides me down the row before pausing beside a slumped over and heavily drool pale young woman. A mane of wild curly carrot orange hair fluffs out around her and hangs low enough to reach her rear in the seat and a little beyond.
The figure reaches out, the eighteen woman suddenly shuddering before sitting up almost painfully straight. Her soft cute face is dotted in a thick carpet of freckles, her delicate nose and narrow chin sporting more than a few light brown specks. Her wide icy blue eyes stare ahead, the pupils growing and shrinking seemingly at random without a mind behind them.
Her slender body is clad in what can easily be described as finery, the pale blue and white silken dress having been tailor made to hug her extremely narrow waist and flared hips. Her rather sizeable chest and her plush rear pushes the soft material, painting the image of a beautiful yet rather modest regal figure.
"Youngest queens in Isles history..." the figure states, my gaze locked to the young woman as her mouth begins to hang open once again as drool dribbles down from her soft light pink lips. "Brother and mother lost at sea... sisters and father dead... To young to wield power... however..." the figure explains, extending its hand down as a lavish jeweled crown made of solid gold slowly raises up from behind the woman. "...Power nonetheless..."
I watch as the figure flicks it's gnarled hand, the young woman's arms suddenly lurching out to her sides as she seems to show off her delicate form and rather weak looking build.
"No strength... no magicks..." the figure huffs, it's crackling voice taking on a hint if distaste before it lets the woman droop once again. "... But wealth... political power... loved by her people..."
Pausing for a moment the figures looks over my face, it's burning blue eyes narrowing for a moment before it returns to 'normal'. The figure quickly gestures for us to keep moving, it's long crooked nails clicking together as it appears to think of something.
"Loved by her people... but also physically powerful..." the figure mutters, turning a corner before floating along towards a little over seven foot tall tan woman with bright yellow wings extending from her shoulders in place of arms.
The brilliant feather, almost appearing to glow in the dim light, run around her collar bone and up her shoulders and neck to meet the base of her shimmering flaxen hair. Her face is undoubtedly feminine, her sharp cheekbones and plush lips contrasted by her keen predatory sparkling blue eyes and a large almost beak-like nose.
Her body is that of a curvaceous woman, her overly generous chest only sagging slightly as deep blue veins appear beneath the taut and engorged flesh. Her slender waist plays host to a set of power abdominal muscles, a slight soft layer of fat doing a bit to diminish her athletic physique. Her hips flare out into a wide pelvis featured a yellow plume of feather where pubic hair would otherwise be. Seated beside her, a large-ish egg quickly provides context on her motherly figure.
A set of long bird-like legs extend out beneath her, the light brown limbs ending is a set of gleaming razor-sharp black talons that look as though they could tear though most things with ease.
"Storm Mother..." the figure explains, glancing to the egg for a moment before looking at the towering harpy. "Queen of Golden Shores... name only... not real title..." it continues, seeming to need clarification. "Cunning beast... hard to capture... cliffs like a fortress and magically protected..."
"Magic?" I chirp, my eyes going wide as I look up at the immense creature.
"Powerful magic... yes..." the figure confirms, the robes around it shuddering as though even it was uncomfortable. "Beasts live only thirty years... not long enough to learn proper ways..." it continues, my face twisting with concern as I look at the half-bird half-woman in front of me.
"How old is..." I begin to ask, the figure cutting me off before I can even finish the question.
"The shell... twenty-four..." it states, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of picking something that only had another few years to live. "The spirit... first recorded sighting on Storm Mother seven hundred and fifty-six years... likely older..."
"I... I don't understand..." I blurt out, the figure soon walking around beside me as it leans down to the egg.
"Beast learns something... takes something... now beast moves between bodies" it explains, the blue eyes flaring up as they linger on the egg. "More powerful as it consumes... makes storms and commands winds... mind gone now... somewhere... safer..." it continues, giving the egg one last glare before looking back up.
"Six years left... then you move to new harpy..." the figure explains, pausing for a moment as it looks up and around the room before slowly shifting down the aisle in search of something else.
Following after the figure I can hear it mumbling, muttering under it's croaking and wheezing breath.
"Powerful... magical... longer lived..." it mutters, its head shifting around until it catches sight of yet another robed figure wearing a set of green and yellow rags. "... Yes..." the figure states, shifting towards its kin, the green and yellow mage not paying any heed as it holds its gnarled hands out of a shivering and shaking pale woman with bleak white hair.
The woman appears to be in her late twenties, though that is likely not the case, a set of wide white eyes staring up at the ceiling with tall oval reptilian pupils. Her gorgeous face is a picture of feminine beauty, from her delicate button nose to the soft curve of her heart-shaped jawline she appears almost hand-crafted to alluring perfection. In her mouth, beyond her parted kissable lips, a set of pearly white teeth seem to flicker and quiver as they shift between something human and something far more vicious.
Her long white hair pools around her like a bed her her curvy frame, her massive breasts pooling into her arm pits while her wide child-bearing hips and juicy rear shift and wriggle as if fighting against something holding them in place. While her curves are certainly an eye-catcher her muscles are equally so, the firm and rock hard legs and arms looking as though they could crush a man's head behind a single knee or in the crook of her elbow.
"Sylvania..." the figure states, holding out its own hands to match the stance of its colleague. I watch as the woman suddenly comes to rest, her shifting body simply turning slack and limp as she lays splayed out on the floor. "Titan of Sky's Reach... Killed last monarch of the mountain... body still pierced on peak..." the figure croaks, its voice straining even more as its hands twitch and fingers quiver.
As I begin to approach the woman for a closer look the figure holds out its hand, the prone woman suddenly lurching as her arm snaps up into the air. I watch as sinews snap and bones break, the ghostly pale flesh suddenly growing scaled as her hands shifting in long and terrifying claws. The sight of it plunges my vision into a terrified tunnel, my heart rate spiking well into triple digits before suddenly returning to normal as the woman's arm is warped back into a human shape.
"White Dragon..." the figure grunts, its hand returning to help its compatriot with whatever magics it was casting. "Commands an aura of terror... too large to fit here... force her into human form... for now..."
I stagger back, shuffling behind the figure as I try to keep my distance from the now subdued woman. "You said..." I cough, struggling to find my voice again. "...Longer lived?"
The figure dips its head a little, the towering pile of robes appearing to nod in response before speaking up.
"Yes... Centuries..." it states, slowly stepping back as it lowers its hands. I watch as the pale white haired woman begins to wriggle once again, her fleshy human form obviously not being the natural resting state of such a creature. "If not slain... thought mountain tribes worship her... not likely to be anytime soon..."
The figure slowly spin around to look at me, the black hood leaning down to inspect my face. "You like longer life... yes..." it states, the question lacking the right inflection to make it sound like one. "... We have... come..."
Before I can respond the figure leans back up before turning to continue its tour of the warehouse, the sound of my footfalls soon moving to catch up to it as another potential buyer lets of a shriek of terror at the writhing dragoness behind us. As we wander along I watch as more people make selection, a middle aged dark haired woman writing her name in the spell book of the robed and bespectacled figure before suddenly collapsing as the young woman leaps up to her feet while a sickly young man takes the visor off the face of the Asian woman before wearing it himself.
"Here..." the figure states, waving a hand towards a slender and athletic young woman with short silver hair and long pointed ears. Her body sits awkwardly in the simple chair, her bright and brilliant breast plate refusing to let her fully collapse while her greaves and gauntlets force her arms and legs to rest in an uncomfortable position.
The young elf's eyes stare blankly at the two of us, one a bright and vibrant yellow and the other a soft and silvery blue. Sharp and striking features make up her face, a narrow jaw and slanted eyes giving her an otherworldly appearance.
While her body is largely hidden beneath her armor one thing is certain, the woman is physically fit and sports a well-trained form. Leaning in I try to get a better sense of her figure, a sudden flickering of sparks from her hands quickly causing me to step back as a small flame puffs out from her delicate finger tips before vanishing.
"Not surprising..." the figure states, a wave of his quickly removing the scorch mark from the concrete floor. "... Trained for combat... unlikely to be taken by surprise even when vacant..."
"She's... this is an elf..." I mutter dimly, my eyes locked to her extremely long and pointed ears as they extend up and out behind her and past her cropped bob cut silver hair.
"Yes..." the figure states plainly, it's body not even moving to inspect the body as it had with the others. "Young elf... many centuries of life left in her... your life if you wish..."
Looking her over I spot a sword sitting beside the seat, the surprisingly narrow long sword glimmer and shining in its sheathe alongside a ring gripping tight to a gemstone of swirling mercurial light.
"Glows around danger..." the figure croaks, a faint chuckle slipping out from under the hood. "...Helped her none.. Renowned Spell-Blade still falls like the rest..."
Pausing for a moment I give the young elf another look over, my gaze falling to the overlapping sun and moon sigil on her breast plate. The same symbols repeat on her bracers, the left featuring a half-moon while the right carries the full blazing sun.
"Renowned?" I ask, looking back to the figure. "So she's famous?"
"Yes..." the figure responds plainly, it's croaking voice huffing out before it takes a step or two back. "Known to the Sun Eleves... prodigy and protector..." it continues, pausing in thought before looking back down at me.
"Problem?..." it asks, actually intoning the work to sound like a question. "... Come... more options..."
Pacing down the aisle we quickly turn at the end, passing by yet other robed figure identical to the one I was following along with a short and petite young woman practically swimming in her sweater and fiddling with her impossibly thick glasses.
As we round the the corner into the next aisle the figure suddenly halts, the pillar of ragged robes slowly rotating as it turns to face a chair that at first glance doesn't have any person in it.
Looking down at the chair I finally spot something, the sight of a tiny pale woman standing at only a few inches tall laying atop a small cushion. I struggle to really make out the young woman's features, her diminutive size making it nigh impossible to really take in much more than broad strokes unless standing mere inches away.
A tuft of bright neon orange rests atop her head in a delightful pixie cut, a thin strip of grass having been dried and braided into a delicate little hairband. Pin pricks of deep brown make up what I can distinguish of her eyes, her nose appearing a little darker thanks to a smattering of freckles across it and her rosy cheeks.
Her slender body is just as hard to describe, her sizeable chest and plush rear looking large on her frame but also only taking up less space than my index finger in the grand scheme of things. A hit of pink rests between her legs, a small patch of vibrant orange hair pointing to her pussy as she plays out naked. Behind her a large set of dragonfly wings extend from the small of her back, the clear membrane sparkling with streaks of turquoise and emerald as they catch the light.
"Teagyn... Teacup..." the figure croaks slowly, taking its time with the name as if disdainfully of having to speak it. "Fae... long lived... presuming you keep life interesting..."
Cocking an eyebrow I look up at the figure before glancing back down at the fairy sprawled out on the pillow.
"Interesting?" I ask, crouching down to try and get a better look at the tiny drooling and barely breathing creature. "Is that what they eat or..."
"No..." the figure responds, cutting me off to answer my apparently stupid question. "Normal food is all that is needed... Fae need experiences... Pixies prefer..." the figure groans, pausing as it makes a guttural grumbling that seems to come from a deep place of frustration. "... Mischief..."
"I see..." I mutter, reaching out as I tentatively tap at her wing only for it to flutter and flap on its own. The figure steps forward, placing a hand in front of me to guide me back. "So they live forever?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.
"Perhaps..." the figure states, pausing once more to think. "... Naturally... if done correctly... though many have a... distaste of pixies and reacted..." it continues, turning to look down at me with its burning blue eyes.
"...Accordingly..." it sighs, its words dripping with no small amount of menace.
Standing back it its full height the figure waits for me to stand up as well. "Perhaps someone more... social..." the figure mutters, giving the tiny pixie one last glare before it begins to move down the aisle expecting me to follow.
Thankfully, the walk isn't very far to the entities next location. After only passing by a few more bodies the figure lurches to a halt, it's bony digits extending as it points to the lavender-skinned horned woman slouched back in the chair.
Her horns extend up from the top of her forehead, the layered bony protrusions reaching up and then curving to undulate out into what can only be described as a set of dark purple handlebars. Long shimmering and silky black hair drapes down around her alluring face and around her slender narrow shoulders, her pitch black eyes matching her hair aside from a glowing golden set of pools that give her irises some color. Plush and pillow lips part, the darker purple flesh revealing a long tongue as it hangs from her mouth and droops down past her delicate chin.
Dressed in a plain white silk nightgown, the demonic woman's body remains on full display. Her waist cinches in tightly, her flat stomach only adding to the effect as it contrasts her massive supple chest that is easily larger than her head. Her hips are also wide and invite, her plush inviting thighs spreading on instinct as the most invitingly sweet scent wafts up from the purple slit that drips and drools into the seat beneath her.
"Erina Malador..." the figure states, its hand reaching up to hold its hood a little tighter as if to fight back the aroma that was already gnawing at my senses. "The Gem of the Bronze Scale Tavern... Well loved..." the figure begins to explain, my own gasping voice cutting it off.
"Whore?" I ask, the figure cackling beneath its robe in response. "Is she a... devil or something?"
"No..." the figure responds dryly, it's looming near seven foot pile of red and blue rags stepping a bit back as to get some more space from the lewd young woman. "Succubus-Borne... Tavern Wench..." the figure chuckles, its gaze turning to me as I struggle to look away from the soft pale purple mounds that practically beg for me to bury my face in them.
As I take a step forward the figure snatches my collar, pulling me back to stand along side it as I slowly begin to return to my sense.
"Succusbus-Borne... part succubus and part man..." the figure states, refusing to let go of my collar as its foul discolored nails dig into the fabric tightly. "Still has many same desires... body functioning on instinct at this stage..." the figure continues, taking another step back as I'm dragged with it.
"So she's just some... some tavern girl?" I ask, looking up at the figure as it holds me beside it. Looking back to the purple-skinned woman I swear I can see her nipples perk up, the scent of nearby lustful figures setting her off. "What did she do to..."
"Stole..." the figure responds dryly, it's hand releasing from my collar as it steps towards the woman. "Moonstalker... famed thief..." it states, reaching out to take the woman's arm before bending it behind her head and around again as though there wasn't a single bone inside. "Succubus-Borne take after their mothers... flexible and able to fit anything or into anywhere..."
As the figure lets go of the woman's arm it slithers back into shape and comes to rest by her side, the robed entity soon looking towards me as it seems to think of something. "Perhaps something a little less... approachable..."
Without another word the figure shuffles down the aisle, its hood not even turning to look at me as I'm forced to simply follow behind it. The sound of something crackling and snapping soon begins to pick up, the figure slowing to a stop as it holds out its arm to stop me from passing it.
Looking ahead I spot the source of the noise, a slither of greenery reaching up from a small crack in the concrete floor as it thrashes about defensively. Another shoot reaches out to the seated figure, a robed young woman in her early twenties with deep emerald green eyes clutching at an old gnarled tree branch turned staff as if on instinct.
Her light brown hair is full of leaves and twigs, the massive wiry plume of hair reaching out around her and down to the middle of her back in a dry and terrible mess. Her skin is a blend of pale ghostly white and a deep woody brown, the sharp elf-like features playing host to the mismatched patches.
Thanks to her mud-caked robes it is hard to make out much about her figure, the delicate and petite nature of her fingers are they wrap around her staff however leave an impression that she is on the slighter side.
"Gretchen Thornheart..." the figure coughs, its hand reaching out as the thrashing green plant quickly lurches out in an effort to reach the figure. "... Family has been mingling with Fae... many generations have passed... naturally very magical despite being human..."
I try to take a step forward only to be stop by the figure, its arm not moving an inch as it bars me from approaching the young woman. As if sensing my steps the shoots quickly lunges toward me, the concrete crackling under their strain as pointed tips reach out towards me.
"Most powerful sorceress... nature itself bending to her will whether she wishes or not..." the figure explains, waving its hand as the two shoots are suddenly immolated. I watch as the dried out husks shrink away, the two shoots only to be replaced with three more as the crack in the concrete only grows further.
"How did you get her then?" I ask, the figure quickly pushing me back as it too takes a few floating steps backwards.
"Caught by surprise... her master assisted..." the figure states, chuckling a little before continuing. "... The master even hired us..."
"I... but... why would..." I begin to stammer, my gaze darting between the figure and the young woman in the seat as the three plants reach up as though trying to wake her.
"You can ask yourself..." the figure states, looking towards me. "... if you wish..."
A giddy squeal soon breaks through our conversation, my attention quickly turning to the dark skinned woman clad largely in beads and gold as she suddenly jumps to her feet. Her cries of excitement are quickly followed by a series of words that simply bounce off my ears, whatever language she was speaking being a far cry from English.
"Come..." the figure states, walking around the sorceress with a wide berth as her green little friends continue to try and fight anyone who passes. As we reach the end of the aisle the figure rounds the corner and beckons me to follow, its eyes shifting over the last few bodies before falling on one in particular.
"Perhaps we have gotten... out of hand..." the figure states, it's groaning and droning voice rumbling out as it begins to slow its seamless strides. "... Power is not for all... perhaps a quiet life..."
As the figure slows to a stop I look at the chair beside it, my gaze falling on a rather pretty and rather short and stout young woman with lightly tan skin and luscious golden hair. The woman herself stands at only around three feet tall, her large bare feet dangling in the air and giving us a good look at the dirt clinging beneath.
Pale green eyes catch the light and shimmer as she leans back in the seat, her pouty and pillow lips parting like two large pink cushions begging to be kissed. Her delicate nose turns up at the very tip, her red rosy checks working along with it to leave her cute as a button.
Her short body is clad in a white summer dress with frills around the sleeves, a floral patterned green apron resting atop it with splotches of flour dusting its surface. The dress and the apron tent out around her rather prodigious bust and wide-hips, her body screaming 'breed me' as her soft squishy thighs and rear pool beneath her like a second cushion.
"Poppy..." the figure snarls, obviously having a distaste for the cutesy name. "... Galebrook... Baker's Apprentice in Hillsburrow..." it continues, practically spitting out the words at the utter unremarkable young halfling.
Walking up to the young and pretty blonde I too begin to loom over her, the tiny woman's terribly short frame making it hard not to as even a normal sized person. A few scant twigs and a leaf or two sit stuck in her hair, the woman likely having been out and about before winding up here.
"So what's her deal?" I ask, the figure soon looking towards me and tilting its hood in seeming confusion. "I mean... what are her powers or weird... you know..." I explain, unsure about how to word things.
"None..." the figure states, looking down at Poppy. "Utterly plain... cooks... tends to garden... smokes pipeweed and drinks..." the figure croaks, a shudder snaking up its long figure. "Utterly... normal halfling..."
As if eager to get away from the shrunken blonde, the figure quickly turns to walk towards the end of the aisle. I'm soon forced to jog along for a moment to catch up, my stride soon slowing as the figure glances to me.
"Are we interested in any?..." it asks, slowing to a stop as it stands beside the towering orc woman we had originally started with. "Perhaps Rarghosh't... Bane of Havoc Ridge again..." it states, looking to me as if expecting a response.
"Oh I... I don't know..." I respond, looking over the nearly seven foot tall green skinned woman as my pulse quickens. "I mean... does she have magic or... what am I even saying..." I blurt out, the figure not wasting any time in its response.
"No magic..." it states, pointing at one of the orc woman's bulging biceps. "Just physical prowess... Head of Goretusk Tribe via combat... Social power too..." the figure continues, it's hood slowly inching closer as it draws in towards me.
"Again... Are we interested in any?..." the figure asks, getting close enough that I can almost make out the withered features hidden beneath the voluminous patches of cloth. "... Do you wish to see more... or can we make deal?"
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