<span style="font-weight: bold">Xarces</span><br/><br/>“What're you doing?” A scaly voice hisses, muffled by Shaklik's belly.<br/><br/>“Talking to my tummy,” you [Xarces] hear Shaklik say. “He's been a great companion all day, struggling strongly, then digesting quietly. But we're done and now its time for me to dump him.”<br/><br/>You hear the other lizardfolk's barking laugh, and feel Shaklik's belly swaying around you as she slips away into the darkness. A few minutes later, she taps her belly for your attention. “The Priestess doesn't care if the Poison Dusk are left with nothing but offal,” she explains. “She'd digest me in a heartbeat if she knew I betrayed her... if she thought I'd been duped... probably not. Either my patrol-leader or the intruding Blackscale would be held responsible. The Priestess's discipline may be brutal, but it's not unfair. I'm... going to have to get you out now,” she explains. “I don't think I can dose the Poison Dusk's food. They're just ripping out the bones and gnawing them, and wolfing down the other offal, and... there's nothing I can do,” she murmurs. “I... could try and feed the animals. Your spices were taken away, but I've some of our arrow-poison I can dose their food with” she explains. “I don't want to,” she continues. “I'm frightened. Frightened of the animals. Frightened of being caught. But I'll try for you, if you ask it,” you can<span style="font-style: italic">feel</span>her smile tugging at her oesophagus above you. “You're so brave, to go into my belly. You make me feel brave too. Do,” she pauses, “do you want to come out the way you came in, or take the,” she blushes, “full tour?”<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Aethon</span><br/><br/>{Digestion, not too graphic}<div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">The small lizardman gave a tooth-baring grin, as he <span style="font-style: italic">finally</span> fought off the damn bird... only to be seized by powerful hands and hoisted unceremoniously into the air. He barely had time to shriek, before Aethon's gaping jaws closed over his head. In a series of swift, short swallows, the centaur gulped him down, enjoying the flavor of live, coldblooded prey but not being distracted by it. The lizardman's sense of horror was unparralleled. He'd been <span style="font-style: italic">eaten</span>, eaten by a <span style="font-style: italic">warmblood</span> whose body was not even that of an honest carnivore! He had to escape. He <span style="font-style: italic">would</span> escape!<br/><br/>But there was no escape. The sensation of the wriggling mass passing down Aethons oesophagus, between his forlegs and back into his horsebelly was far better – and that belly would not be satisified until its meal was utterly digested.<br/><br/>Despite the centaur's size, the environment within was cramped, and though the tight muscles could not constrict about him, they could pound and beat the lizardman's flesh, tenderising skin and opening wounds into which acids could flow – and those acids were not gentle. Already a wide pool of them seethed in Aethon's horizontal belly, a pool in which the lizardman was forced to sprawl, and the fleshy walls of Aethon's stomach dripped and drooled ever more of them onto its meal. The lizardman give the mightest struggle of his – soon to be extinguished – life, but to Aethon, this was no more than a pleasantly prickly internal massage, and the cause of several deep and acidic burps. Very soon – no more than minutes – the struggles are reduced to weak but no-less-pleasurable writhing, which softly die away as the lizardman does. The joy a predator takes in a struggling meal is replaced by the ecstacy of a living meal's nutrition being absorbed by your body as its is broken down.</div></div></div><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Everyone Else</span><br/><br/>You're free to make whatever other preparations are required – Linda definitely has time to digest the Blackscale and reanimate its bones, but this will preclude her resting.