Runar's Expanded Adventures: Part 4

Here we are, Runar's certainly had his fill for the day! Given his love of stew and big meals, it's fitting to post this as a Thanksgiving treat. Enjoy, everyone!

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Il Mehg, the last trip on Runar's journey, was not at all what he needed. It's not that he didn't get what he originally went there for; speaking with the Faerie King was fruitful, and the Night's Blessed could still count the fae amongst their allies. Runar was, however, ignorant of the laws of Il Mehg; to take back as much as is taken, to create as much as is destroyed, and to give as much as is received. The Night's Blessed and their Viis allies back in Rak'tika had given many things the Pixies and Nu Mou desired, mainly shiny baubles and toys for the pixies, and Ronkan artifacts for the Nu Mou, and now they had to pay them back. Naturally, the pixies, seeing the great girth Runar was now carried, assumed the best way to reach an equivalent exchange was through food- or perhaps they just thought it was funny seeing Runar struggle to fit into his clothes after more decadent treats.

Finally, the Night's Blessed escaped the fae and their games, and were once again in the shrouded boughs of the Rak'tika Greatwood. Runar moved slowly, the mammoth weight piled on to his body making each of his waddling steps ponderous. He had a surprising amount of energy and strength to hold up the vast reams of fat stacked on to every part of his body, but it did not hide the shame he felt, coming back as such a bloated, flabby glutton. He had eaten his way across all of Norvrandt, and with a dreadful realization, he saw he was terribly similar in appearance to the tyrant, Vauthry. In fact, he might now be even fatter than Vauthry was- his belly, a great, oceanic mass of white fur like an avalanche, sank all the way past his knees, and sloshed and jiggled with every move. His flabby chest hung low on the crest of his gut, like two bags of flour, and his legs alone outclassed some of the great trees of Rak'tika, though they were soft and pliable as clay, it felt like- he didn't like to think of how his immense rear was probably outpacing his tail at this point.

He fretted terribly about how the Night's Blessed would react- food was still limited, and would they still even want to follow him, looking like he'd eat the whole village if he could? Finally, they reached Slitherbough- Runar winced as he felt his flabby love handles brush against the narrow walls of the cavern they used as an entrance. When he popped free of the cave walls, there was a stunned silence amongst the gathered villagers. Runar raised his arms, swaddled in reams of fat as they were, and smiled nervously, bulbous cheeks dimpling as he did.

"I- I know that my, ah, appearance may come as a shock… but let me assure you, I have brought back with me pledges of support, supplies, and all the means of our future prosperity from our allies across Norvrandt. I know I look… different… but my dedication to venerating the Sacred Night, and caring for all of you, has never wavered." He paused, trying to read the crowd gathering around him, wincing as a few bold villagers poked his sides, as if to make sure it was all real.

A bevy of questions came- did he feel well? Had he been cursed? Could he still fulfill his duties? Was he still himself? Once all the questions had been answered, however, Runar dared to think he sensed some relief washing over the village.

"Please, sit and rest, Runar," one of the cultists said, clearing a very, very wide path for the Ronso- a huge spread had been prepared for his return, including a vast, bubbling pot of stew. "We figured you might be hungry after your travels," the hume speaking to Runar said with a crooked smile.

Runar dared a grin, smacking his massive belly, sending ripples, and no small amount of hungry growling, across the quivering boulder. "I hate to admit it… but I am, as it happens. Well then, my friends- may Slitherbough prosper as well as I have. To the future, and now, to our feast!"