{Just to give my moral reasoning that underpins the roleplay: Rape is not okay. I do not want to be raped – I am crystal clear about that. I'm completely in control of myself and of my life – and that means I can play pretend at getting raped on the internet if I want to, and I can say 'stop' anytime I want. That's the decision I made going into this, if the reverse situation as the one between the Blackscale and Alizome came up with in NPC in the victimised role. I hope you all recognise the same applies to you if an NPC is in the aggressive role – you can always say 'stop' out of character and we will instantly stop that scene. That's the framing that makes me think what we're doing here is moral, even though rape is intolerable.<br/><br/>Anime Chaos: I won't be offended if you want to go (if it has become or becomes un-fun for you,  you should definitely go). Otherwise, let's carry on.}<br/><br/>{I'm presuming someone will do something with the other Lizardfolk, either Aethon eating him or Linda turning him into a zombie. The poison is not part of his biology, though}.<br/><br/>Linda's stomach went to work on the Blackscale's body, turning it into the bleached bones that could later be reanimated as your ally.<br/><br/>“You're amazingly powerful,” Shaklik – the young Poison Dusk lizardgirl with Xarces in her belly – says, “but you must be careful at the Temple. There are presently seven more Poison Dusk, and thirteen Blackscales there, including Adepts more dangerous than that brute,” she nods at the unsquirming dead flesh bulking Linda's belly, “and the High Preistess herself. In addition, a 'tamed' Girallon trained to kill, and and Dracotaur. A direwolf was recently captured – it's held in the Sacrifical Chamber, whether as a sacrifice or a new guardbeast I don't know. The High Preistess despises their youth and callowness, but she worships the Children of Rhashaak nevertheless. They - Wyvrix and Bheavamos - lair beneath the Temple, and sacrifies are poured down the pit to them. Its rumored their secret tunnels lead throughout the Temple. They've grown, recently, in bulk if not in strength in their laziness. They're far larger than me, now, though perhaps,” she continues, indicating Aethon, “not larger than you.”<br/><br/>“I'm,” she pauses, rubbing her belly, and you can<span style="font-style: italic">see</span>the bulge, as Xarces rubs back, “<span style="font-style: italic">we're</span>going now,” she says. “We'll take the mules, and your drugged spices, and encourage the others to a feast. I'll follow the guidance of your<span style="font-style: italic">representative</span>,” she pats her distended tum, “after that. With any luck, they'll be easy meat for you – but I can't guarentee it won't be a tough fight, especially if the creatures get loosed, or the Poison Dusk are made to wait to eat.”<br/><br/>{At this point, you clearly have some time to prepare – for Linda to digest her meal and reanimate it, and for whatever else anyone wants to do. I suppose the 'attack' will now come at night, after the Blackscale's evening feast}.<br/><br/>Shaklik's belly rolls around you {Xarces}, as she leads the mules and with their packs of adulterated spices towards the Temple. Shaklik reports the victory, and the capture of much meat and spices to the other Poison Dusk, to the Blackscales, and ultimately to the High Priestess herself. “Take a mule to the Temple, and sacrifice it immediately,” you hear the Priestess say, her words somewhat muffled by Shaklik's belly, “the Children of Rhasaak hunger. Prepare the other,” she continues. “We shall feast well this night.”<br/><br/>Time, passes. Shaklik's belly remains comfortable, albeit increasingly acidic. Your sandwiches and snacks are swiftly melted away into a nourishing broth, which is flushed down into her intestines to be absorbed by her body. She pets and rubs you often, though is free to speak only rarely. Ultimately, her lounging quite disorientates you. Some long, languid time later, she rises. “They're starting the feast,” she says. Indeed, you can smell the delectable aroma of well-spiced flesh roasting on the air she's breathing. “I think we should've brought more mules,” she murmurs, under her breath, awhile later. “The Blackscales are devouring the spiced flesh, leaving only offal for us,” she pauses, “ah, for the Poison Dusk. I do not think they will be affected! And the animals have not yet been fed!” She pauses, and you can feel her heartbeat trembling. “What do you want me to do?” She whispers. “The Priestess will devour us whole when she realises...”