#that will surely only be used for defense and not messing with easily spooked mages

[blackrose-ffxiv]

11/06

Luke Gravespast twiddled a spanner at Lebeaux as he started to crouch down and resume slowly chipping on the tile as he continued, right where he'd left off, laying in the lining and runners.  "We's jus' 'bout done with it.... y' feelin' up to testin' this at all, so you know what it'll be like?"  As he continued to lay the boundaries in, the next portion was apparently mimicking the inlays and work to hide what might have been an array of some kind.  the largest portion seemed to be a small pile of unaspected crystals.

Lebeaux Desrosiers smiled primly as the spanner was waved at him. Not particularly concerned, the jab about Luke’s appearance was essentially friendly, considering the sort of thing he could say to him. “That would be for the best. I would hate to be caught off guard as well the first time it’s switched on.” He stared down at the crystals. “Those are what the system runs off of?”

Luke paused, spreading the crystals out.  "Hrm... nau' exactly.  They're wha' the block powers on, aye?  So when the system is on, these end up holdin' the aether out and make sure the place is... a deadzone for as long as they can power.  If someone tries t' use their own aether, they'll drain tha' off too," he said as he tapped the crystals. "The relay?  An' tha boundaries, mean that it's contained."

Lebeaux smiled as he climbed off of the desk to pick one of them up, curious about the thing. “Amazing. What a clever idea. They soak up the aether like a sponge. Will there be a need to release the absorbed aether afterwards to ensure there isn’t any build up.” He’d heard tales from the Manufactory of workers forgetting to release the steam valves after their work.

Luke tapped the inlay that he was starting to lay in.  "Release fer tha' system... once tha' hold is off, it'll disperse it inta tha' stream.  Once y' shut it off, it automatically goes inta a slow release."  The man had built the system so that Lebeaux didn't need to be anticipated to have two braincells to rub together, because he didn't give the man that much credit.

Lebeaux turned the crystal to admire it before he set it back into place. “Automatic release. Very good.” Assuming it had been built for ease of use rather than factoring the user’s negligence and general lack of familiarity with magitek systems of any sort.

Luke would agree it was always better to assume that the client wasn't being made fun of.  In this case though, he was.  Luke hummed as he continued to work on the install, shifting across the floor before the inlays and tracks met.  "Jus' don't switch the crystals out fer more holdin', y's gau' ah time limit, depends on tha' caster, aye?"  Hick? Hick.

Lebeaux smiled primly as he settled himself back onto the desk’s edge. “Oh, how nice. You’re learning Hingan. I haven’t been studying, so perhaps you should repeat that in the common tongue.”

Lucien waggled the spanner in the air before repeating what he'd said in... Doman. Horribly accented, but actually correct, Doman.

Lebeaux Desrosiers smiiiiiiiled at the hyur. Well played. “How droll.” He noted flatly. “You’ve picked up new and exciting ways to be tiresome.” He slid down off of the desk. “I’m going to fetch myself a cup of tea. Will you be having one or will you simply sustain yourself on that joke for the next bell.”

Lucien coughed to hide his laughter about it as he headed back to his feet. "I'd love a cuppa, if y'd b' so kind?"  That joke was going to keep him grinning slyly at the man for at least the rest of the work, though.

Lebeaux nodded and skulked out of the room. He went to the sideboard to prepare cups of tea, but the sound of his boots moved away towards the clinic corner first. Sliding the door open and speaking quietly. Leaving Luke a few moments of peace before he returned to the table to retrieve the other two cups. He carried them in and held them both out, giving Luke his choice to prove there wasn’t anything funny going on with either of them. “Black tea, sugar and cream. There’s brandy or whiskey if you would like as well. You may add that yourself.”

Luke accepted the cup of tea when it was offered, and with little hesitation at all the blacksmith took a sip of the tea while he held it in a hand.  "-Jus' this way, works f'r me!  Don't put shit inta m' tea, unless y' make it bitter," he added after another sip to test the liquid.

“Ishgardian style is generally brewed as a milk tea. Light and sweet once the sugar is added.” He noted as he took the cup he had been given back to the sideboard to add a splash of brandy to his own. “Yet the local milk just doesn’t give the same flavor. So I have it brewed with water and add the cream after. Slightly more bitter, yet still decent.” He noted as he observed the other’s work. “So would you like to tell me what you were saying about ‘depending on the mage’ without chewing up your words this time.”

Luke continued to sip the tea though he headed over to the cream because if this was the bitter Coerthan leaves... and it hadn't been done with milk... "-get proper milk fer yer tea or grab another style an' embrace wha' they have here. There's a milk froth tea y' could try prolly-" The man looked up, clearing his throat pointedly before he started again as he stressed his words.  "Wha' about... a'ight, so tha' mage isself is what determines how long tha' will last." Luke waited, seeing - with a lifted brow - if Lebeaux was going to object.

Lebeaux bristled slightly as Lucien decided to instruct him on the proper manner of preparing and drinking Coerthan tealeaves. “My, you are in fine form today, aren’t you.” He mused flatly. A generous helping of sass to make up for lost time, it seemed. “Feeling your oats a bit as you near the conclusion of your projects?” Nonetheless he took a sip of his tea and smiled. “Very well, I assume there is a limit as to how much can be absorbed before the system shuts down.”

Luke lifted a brow at Lebeaux and saluted him with the tea before he headed for the desk, putting the crystals - in a rather nicely made box that could pass for a snuff or smoke box - on it.  The sass was there for the heaping out but with a wide smile he seemed to rein it in. "Aye - a very strong si-mage," he caught quickly, "-will hit tha' limits of the system.  Don't change t' crystals but if y' need an upgrade I c'n work that in later, this should handle a decent one for ah good measure."

Lebeaux smiled primly at the small slip. Another little oddity to be added to the pile of ‘a very strange little hyur’. “That will be fine. I suspect the panic of being unable to use their aether will be enough to fluster any mage who attempts to cast, even if it’s only initially. It will buy me the time I require to retaliate.” He agreed as he eyed up the box that was now resting on his desk. Considering it for a few moments before he gave a small nod. It was ‘nice enough’ to pass as his own. “What would happen if the crystals were changed.”

Luke continued to hold the tea like a near-sailor but drink and seem to thoroughly enjoy it.  "Usually wha' I see when y' deal with casters suddenly ain't able t' cast," he said with an agreeing nod to the man.  And the box had been designed - with understated flair - to try to fit in the way that the lofty man had decorated.  It was not ostentatcious, mercifully.  "All right, tha' way tha' it would go down, if y' get the wrong kind or sort? Backlash an eedback t' you an' anyone inside."

Lebeaux smiled and tilted his head in agreement. He himself was a healer, his sort of casting wasn’t meant to be used on the offensive. Hence he had found other ways to defend himself. But those who depended on magic to exert their will wouldn’t deal well when they were suddenly left powerless. “I see. These have been chosen to work precisely with the system. Adjustments will need to be made should I require a larger capacity. I may, once the presence of this device becomes known. I’ll contact you at that time.”

Luke put his hand on the box, a tap on the system before he gestured for the man to step his way back around the desk.  "If y' need a larger capacity I c'n adjust the system for it, an' can provide you.  I'll have t' file a permit but it's easy 'nough t' get that in.  Nau, y' want t' test this out so y' know what it feels like?"

Lebeaux wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Would that truly push it over to weapons grade.” He wondered aloud. Perhaps he would simply have to deal with it as it was. “Very well. That bridge can be crossed should we come to it.” The medic circled around the desk, standing behind it. “How do I turn it on, then more importantly, how do I turn it off again.”

Luke leaned over the desk - hopefully he didn't have the thing covered in important papers as the man tapped where he'd shaved off and recessed the secret switch. "On an' off there.  Flick it on an' le's make sure nothin' explodes." At the remark of weapons grade, though, he chuckled.  "Y' forget, have t' file permits for crystals... nau' weapons grade, jus' paperwork fer tha' Consortium."

Lebeaux quirked a brow at that. “I was not aware. That’s an interesting thing to know.” Perhaps with the quantity of stained crystal he had in his office as well as the crystals he was now having installed, he should perhaps keep a closer eye on that. Nonetheless he reached down to find the recessed switch, his other hand shooing Luke away before he could go rolling around on his desk to shuffle papers and spread his long-hair-grease on it. With a slow inhale he pressed the switch.

Luke backed off the desk, sitting on the chair and plopping down, tea still balanced expertly in hand as he watched the system come to life.  There was little he could tell at all, in fact, but the feeling of a block and wall that seemed to drain the aether out of the room got a lip-twitch from the kir.  Lebeaux would probably be feeling the far problematic version of being cut off from the connection that usually worked the lifestream all across the star.

Lebeaux blinked in surprise at the strange sensation, exhaling in a rush of air as he lifted his hands up and attempted to cast. Reaching for that magic that was always waiting for his beck and call to find it entirely unresponsive. Even his own internal aether refused to cooperate, being drained away just as quickly as he could bring it forwards. He gasped and then laughed, the sound sharp-edged and harsh. “Fury have mercy, it truly works. What terrible sensation.” He sighed as he reached for the switch to turn it back off again.

[23:52]Lucien Korbinius looked far, far less affected - if there was ever a doubt the blacksmith was trained in aether use that might've killed it, though he still looked uncomfortable before the device was switched off.  "Did you doubt?" The man's voice curled a moment, watching with an uncharacteristic gleam in his eye as if studying how it affected even Lebeaux.

@glowinggunmetal

#lebeaux #luke #the finishing touches are finally put on the aether-dampening magitek! #that will surely only be used for defense and not messing with easily spooked mages #nope

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Oh, oh, can I please have Caspar + 🐷?

Being a general in the imperial army had its ups and downs.

There was a lot of responsibility involved, of course, and Caspar found that quite a lot of it felt like red tape to slow down doing actual good. He wanted to get out there and do what was right for the people, but – apparently – there were rules about that, and him charging in recklessly to do what he thought was right wasn’t what he should be doing. Edelgard allowed him some slack with things, but many grumbled about his attitude and style of handling issues.

Caspar didn’t let it stop him much. If he saw people being wronged, he jumped to their defense. If he could protect someone in a battle, he’d do so – rank be damned! He wasn’t the sort to sit back and watch others do the work for him.

It was because of this that he had rode out to a remote village, word having reached his ears that a powerful magic user had stormed in and taken over the place. People were scared, but they couldn’t get away with this sorcerer practically holding them hostage as he did whatever he pleased in their little town. It wasn’t a big enough issue for the empire to devote its attention to, or so he’d been told when he brought it up, but Caspar wasn’t going to let that slide. It was only the one man, so he was confident in his ability to take the sorcerer down easily. He left his unit in his lieutenant’s care until he returned, sure that he would only be gone for a day at best.

As soon as he reached the village, Caspar could tell that things were off.

It was unnaturally quiet, the setting sun making the silent town feel eerie and dark as he moved through it. Ax in hand, ready for anything, the squelch of mud under his boots was the only thing Caspar could hear as he trudged further into the village.

“Show yourself!” he eventually shouted in frustration, knowing he was being watched. “I’m here to free these people, and hiding is only drawing out your punishment longer, you fiend!”

Windows were dark or shuttered in homes, no people in sight – not even any animals.

“You really are a loud thing, aren’t you?”

A shiver ran down Caspar’s spine at the voice – it felt like those words had been spoken directly into his ear – but when he whirled around, there wasn’t anyone there. Growling at how easily he’d been spooked, Caspar resolved his expression into something more fiercely determined.

“Why don’t you say that to my face!” the young man called back, eyes scanning every possible place this mage could be hiding.

“If that’s what you really prefer,” the voice returned, calmly, a face to finally go with it appearing in a flash of warping magic right in front of Caspar.

The light caused Caspar to close his eyes against the abrupt intensity of it, blinking rapidly to clear his vision and get a good look at the sorcerer who had been terrorizing this town for some time. His confidence shot up again when he looked the man over. The mage was tall and spindly; thin limbs, boney hands and a gaunt face. He was older, hair thinning and age marring him. A gnarled cane of dark wood was gripped tightly in his hands, and Caspar was sure that a stiff breeze could have knocked the old buzzard onto his ass. There was no way he could lose this.

Of course, without anyone there to rein in his recklessness, Caspar was ignoring the important fact that this old mage had completely taken over a small town without any trouble.

Charging forward, swinging his ax wide, Caspar blinked when the man disappeared like a wisp of smoke – the blade of his weapon hitting nothing but air. He skidded awkwardly in the slick mud, whipping around to try and relocate the mage. The man reappeared as silently as he teleported out of the attack, cheekily waggling his fingers at Caspar.

Taking the bait, Caspar tried again.

And again…and again.

Every single time he came close to landing a blow strong enough to cut the skinny old bastard in half, the sorcerer would simply warp out of harm’s way with a raspy chuckle. It went on like this for a while, Caspar’s energy and stamina starting to fail him after some time, tired legs slipping and sending him face first into the mud; his ax knocked out of his grasp as he fell, skidding through the mud just out of reach.

Panting and sputtering mud out of his mouth, Caspar shoves himself onto his hands and knees, sweating and limbs shaking from fatigue.

“Rolling about in the mud like a hog, are we?” the old man hummed, his foot steps hardly making a sound as he approached. “Quite fitting for a squealing piglet of the empire. Did they not have anyone else to send out here but an obnoxious, arrogant boy?”

Caspar bristled at that, scrambling to get to his feet. “I am a proud general of the empire!” Sure, he was still young and he hadn’t ever hit much of a growth spurt, but that didn’t give this old coot any right to insult him in such a way when he was clearly the evil doer here.

“A proud pig, I see.”

“You’ll regret insulting me–”

The mage waved an age-shaky hand at the younger man, a smug look on his face as he chanted something out in a language Caspar had never heard before. “And you’ll regret ever coming to this little village, Sir Pig,” the old man mused, a wave of magic blasting Caspar off his feet and back into the mud once more.

Caspar groaned, shaking his head and trying to refocus his dizzied vision. He felt so tired, and it was an alarming struggle to keep himself awake, but he managed to sit himself back up and shake off the worst of the sluggishness. Aside from the fatigue, he was fairly certain that whatever magic had been cast at him hadn’t caused him any damage outside of a bruised rear end. Grinning at his luck – for the old man must have simply messed up – he made to jump back to his feet and get right back into the fight, only to stumble in surprise when he felt like he had tried to get up with heavy weights attached to himself.

“W…What the…?” he muttered under his breath, struggling once more to get to his feet. He managed to get onto his knees, but found himself hit with another wave of exhaustion, his breathing heavy and…what in the world, was he snorting?!

Muddy fingers reached up to his nose, Caspar blurting out in shock when they met with the round, flat of his nose – or, what had been his nose. Now, it was more akin to a snout, just like a pig’s. He snuffled exaggeratedly, swallowing thickly against the panic that was threatening to overtake him.

Okay, so what? The old mage could do a few tricks, make him look like a fool, but this could always be reversed, right? It wouldn’t be so bad, especially once he beat the sorcerer and made it back home. They had plenty of skilled magic users in the empire who could probably fix his nose in a matter of seconds. This was just a tactic to get under his skin!

Grunting in anger, Caspar settled a foul look on the far too amused old man, and tried once again to push himself out of the mud.

Why did he feel so damn heavy?! His armor didn’t restrict his movement this much, and he was used to carrying the weight of it by now – not that it was really all that much armor to begin with, really. But, after another few moments of struggling, it started to dawn on Caspar why he was having so much trouble. It felt like his armor was constricting him all of a sudden, movement restricted and breathing getting more difficult. It was a risk, taking away some of his defenses, but the feeling of claustrophobia got to him quickly, and Caspar scrabbled to get the pieces of armor off.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the way he was changing. The way his ears changed shape from rounded off to something more triangular, becoming wider, perky and pointed at the tips. His face started to round out, too, plump cheeks and a swell of fat beneath his chin. It was only when his fingers started to get thicker and harder to use – luckily, after undoing most of the buckles for his plate armor – that Caspar realized that this was going far further than just an embarrassing pig nose.

“H-Hey, what the hell is happening to me–?!” Caspar demanded, fear tinging his words as his statement ended on the horrifically piggish sound of an oink. With his armor now loose and mostly off, he saw the way that the rest of his body was shifting.

He was getting bigger…

The old sorcerer chuckled as he saw reality smack the young general right in the face, dark eyes twinkling as he watched the once confident fighter squirm and struggle as he grew more and more into what he’d spelled him as.

He’d called the young upstart a hog, and a hog he would be in every sense of the word.

Embarrassment and anger flushed Caspar’s features as he was helpless to do much more than watch as his body was ruined. Trim muscle was quickly overtaken by soft, supple fat. He grunted and cursed as his armor popped off and his clothes became uncomfortably tight against his frame. Stuck on all fours, it was easy to feel the way his body got heavier. His thighs grew thick and meaty, brushing up against each other as he struggled, but then forcing him to widen his stance as they pressed into one another. His ass soon followed, rounding out wider and wider, wobbling as he shifted his growing weight. His arms plumped up as well, plush and fat enough to overlap his elbows a bit; even his hands and fingers had gotten chubby.

The worst, however, was his chest and stomach.

His abs had quickly disappeared under a layer of chub, but it didn’t stop at just a pot belly. It kept growing – out and out, rounder and fatter. It was so bizarre to feel, this heavy part of himself just hanging there, getting heavier and heavier as the seconds passed. His gut bounced and jiggled as it swelled outward with fat, stretching his shirt out as far as it could go before buttons gave up and popped right off, pale flesh now exposed to the cool of the air. To Caspar’s dismay, his chest wasn’t too far behind; pecs rounding out and puffing up, drooping weightily against the continuously expanding swell of his stomach.

It was getting harder to keep holding himself up on his hands and knees, his weight just getting more and more to deal with. Desperation started to sink into Caspar’s hastily narrowing mind, a shiver running through his fattening body as his burgeoning belly grew big enough to connect with the ground beneath him, cold mud smearing across the vast expanse of his gut. He can barely even tell when a curly pig’s tail pops up above the wide spread of his ass, his rear doing its best to keep up with the rest of him.

Caspar jolts when he feels a hand on his head, thin, bony hands messing into his shock of blue hair. The old mage is smiling at him, a knowing look on his wrinkled face.

“Don’t look so frightened about all this, boy. You’ll find I’m not a cruel master, especially to dumb beasts that don’t know any better. Isn’t that right, my loud little piglet?” the old man speaks in a soft and assuring tone, another, softer glow of magic from coming from his palm as he pets the former general’s head like one would to calm down a spooked animal.

Caspar wants to protest, wants to get up and shake off the terrible dream that this has to be…but, as that last spell starts to take, thoughts of getting away or fighting back any further seem to slip through his head like water between his fingers. Eventually, the growing weight of his body is simply too much for him to keep holding up, so Caspar simply lets himself collapse onto the solid mound of fat that is his gut. It was surprisingly comfortable, and the mud was becoming less of a discomfort to him as he practically started to wallow in it like a real pig would.

“Good pig,” the sorcerer praised, ruffling Caspar’s hair before withdrawing his hand, watching with amusement as the young man oinks at him lazily, now finally content to simply do what pigs do best.

Grow fat and fatter still.

#Anonymous #male weight gain #male wg #chubby!caspar #pig transformation #pig tf #this damn thing fought me so much because i still havent gotten to the end of 3h & im still only on gd route #so be central stuff is not yet in my knowledge & i had to go looking a bit online #but pls accept this humble oinker