[<a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/148883">Perception</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d20+12</span><span style="font-weight: bold">14</span><br/>[<a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/148882">Will Save</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d20+4</span><span style="font-weight: bold">24</span><br/>*boogies*]]<br/><br/>It<span style="font-style: italic">burns</span>. Alizome can feel the potion hit her bloodstream, knows that she's kept it out of the claws of the Blackscales- whatever happens. The magic roars through her body, through her very soul, and spit floods her mouth as the elf looks on her enemies and her friends with a new, feral gleam in her eye. Mental images begin to play without any filter or pause between them; she can<span style="font-style: italic">feel</span>the Blackscale squirming down her throat, she can<span style="font-style: italic">taste</span>the kitsune's true form as she caresses the few parts of it still outside her stomach with a savoring tongue, even the sights and smells of others take on new and added temptation. Almost as in an out of body experience, Alizome can see her body swollen to bursting and the thought of it sends a jolt of pure pleasure down her spine, sending her into a blissful smile.<br/><br/>And then the priestess taunts her, prodding the lifeless, digested remains of Xarces. Alizome keeps the smile on her face, but... other scenes start to be pulled through her mind. The feeling of dinosaur jaws around her, and how it felt when the the wolvering had her closer to digestion than she wanted to admit... but more than either of those, the full body sensations of drifting off to sleep inside the protective embrace of Zorakatra's womb, surrounded by the 'harpy' and feeling at utter peace if the woman had felt the desire to claim her. She hadn't- but that didn't mean Alizome didn't remember well the feelings she'd had. And with those in her mind, the monomaniacal urge to *feed* grew less... sharp. The elf knew in her soul that part of her lot was to be inside others, not they inside her. Maybe... maybe she could change that, but here? Now? THe Blackscales were larger, and she would Not harm her allies. She would not let herself be rushed into something that wouldn't help anyone by a damned *potion*. Straightening up, she sighed and drew her swords again. "They finished the ritual." She says flatly, voice only letting out a tiny bit of the tempest roaring in her mind as she resists the potion's siren song. "Let's wreck them first."<span style="font-style: italic">Besides</span>, she told her riotous stomach,<span style="font-style: italic">We can have fun when business is done.</span><br/><br/>[[Going to delay until someone else moves into melee with a blackscale, and then moving to flank with them and launching her attack.<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/148887">2x flanking sword attack</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">2#1d20+9</span><span style="font-weight: bold">20</span><span style="font-weight: bold">26</span><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/148889">2x flanking damage</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">2#4d6</span><span style="font-weight: bold">16</span><span style="font-weight: bold">8</span>]]