Though our heroes now worry and try to determine their next move, another camp was established in the dark parts of the wood's due south 10 miles away. Though the description of a camp would imply a certain idea in military terms, the forces set on taking down Nohr and Hoshido have an antithetical setup to their established base. Many a Faceless and Stoneface monster stands an uneasy idol, akin to decrepit statues awaiting command at a moment's notice. Not immobile, but too still to assign a temperament of a living creature, those not on call for basic commands are standing stalwart in formation outside of a large lavender tent. Inside stands the only things nearby considered living beings, with the large tend divided into smaller subsections. Around a covered center tent await the few living soldiers, kept on staff for more complex tasks that automatons outside are unfit to be able to perform: Large musclebound men wielding gnarled axes and blades solemnly await. But the center-covered area lies the masterminds of the operation.
Ever since Candace found this strange tome, delivered by a mysterious stranger with only the moniker of "a friend," Candace has found herself with both new powers... and a new appearance. Plump fingers peruse the pages of a dark violet tome, an eerie glow illuminates under her chins, giving way to a contrasting coy smile etched upon her face as she deciphers the arcane runes of this strange tome. She brushes away strands of her long chestnut hair behind her left ear, showing a glowing hue of her once-brown eyes and pink lipstick, now darkened, and employing a strange green tone. This clashes with the worn and torn clothing straining to keep it hold on to the bloated mage.
An outfit of pinks, magenta and white are now matted with the worn colors of the battlefield; died in old blood, dirt and foliage now stained to a more accompanying brown and green to her newer, larger appearance. What was a bit large, somewhere in the lower two-hundred pound range for an average sized female, now is a being that dwarfs the mighty caster's prior form. To think she once used a bow and moved about the battlefield nimbly would now be a consideration of mocking Candace, a feat that none in the tent would dare to attempt. The once large but surprisingly nimble bandit has lost the dexterity she has in surprise. Her rump now spills either side of the large, armless throne she has gathered to accommodate for her growing posterior, a throne large enough to hold the bulk of hulking men like Garon, bordering on needing to track down the seat of the previous king of Nohr.
The shelf of this massive derriere juts out over a foot and able to hold a small collection of books and tomes. Her thunderous thighs have more than doubled in size from a small foot in width each to over four feet when pressed together, with cankles that reach down to the bottoms of her feet. Any amount of physical movement would once chafe would now be enough to start fires without the need of magic. Her sagging, cellulite riddled gut near envelopes her large thighs, barely able to draw attention away from the pair of massive breasts that place watermelons to shame. Her arms as large as her fat-framed face. Still adorn with a button nose and short, sharp eyebrows lies still the cunning wit of a women scorned.
Since her defeat that day long ago against Midori and her village, the humiliation she suffered being apart of the Corrin's armed forces as punishment for her transgressions. Though the free meal and board was the worst end of a bargain, it was seeing the female soldier's preferential treatment over herself. Candace was as fine a specimen of a female she felt, yet little did she garner the attention of soldiers in the army. Corrin this, Camilla that, even that brat Midori had her fans. Expect for one, a no bodyguard that watched over her cell, Bartholomew. There was a man who could at least see worth and gave her the time of day! Oh, how she yearned for conversation with him once more!...
"I WILL get my revenge!"
Candace scorns quietly to herself, being distracted by the flap of the tent moving. Her closes her special tome and focuses on the attendant disturbing her reading.
She gestures to the kneeling messenger,
