<span style="font-weight: bold">Xarces</span><br/><br/>"C'mon, Xarces," Shaklik giggled, "we'd better get back to your companions. They won't be happy if they realise what we were doing whilst they were fighting for their lives." She thought about this. "Unless they've finished already and are onto the feasting," she smirked, "or the<span style="font-style: italic">dessert</span>." Seizing his soft hand in her clawed grip, she began to tow him in the direction of the Blackscale's huts.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Linda</span><br/><br/>There's little Linda can do but make herself comfortable, as her belly works on digesting the bulk of the Blackscale's she's devoured down to something more manageable. As the begin to melt, intense pleasure begins to wrack her body, as their nutritions flood her system one after the other. It might be her imagination, but scent of spices, beyond those spilled in the battle or roasted on the mules, wafts through the air...[I'll work out what these should be later].<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Aethon</span><br/><br/>Although a little more mobile than the naga, Aethon soon finds himself in ecstasy, as the nutrition the Blackscale's body held begins to slip through the walls of his stomach and permeate his flesh...<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Jules</span><br/><br/>As his companions increasingly pleased moans begin to replace the weak screams echoing from their bellies – and the sounds of battle having long since died away – Jules hears, from one of the huts slightly closer to the temple, the dim sounds of struggle... and the slosh of fluids. [This is the opportunity to introduce two new characters, so, take it in that context.]