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Description
The looming shadow of the barmaid's rear casts an ominous darkness across a rough, brown landscape. A simple bar stool magnified into a continental landmass for a microscopic adventurer, desperately scrambling away from the incoming impact.

A failed spell, a slight slip of the tongue during a particularly difficult incantation, reducing a once noble spellsword into little more than a mite, helpless in the face of hundreds of tons of fat and flesh...

They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, their hearts pounding in their chests. They're fast; a life of physical exertion combined with their lingering adrenaline allows for a sprint that would make most athletes blush.

A futile effort.

They could have run for hours and have been no closer to safety, the mile-spanning shadow proving an obstacle far too difficult to overcome.

-

Above, the barmaid slumps onto the stool, glad to finally rest her weary feet after hours of work.

The soft *plop* of her supple cheeks against the stool is more than loud enough to disguise the muted *crunch* of a body giving way underneath her weight. Their lingering stain is just another minuscule blemish on the fabric of her dress, washed away the next time she cleans.

-

Inspired by a prompt by the great twitter.com/VekelM
Go give them a follow!

Description
The looming shadow of the barmaid's rear casts an ominous darkness across a rough, brown landscape. A simple bar stool magnified into a continental landmass for a microscopic adventurer, desperately scrambling away from the incoming impact.

A failed spell, a slight slip of the tongue during a particularly difficult incantation, reducing a once noble spellsword into little more than a mite, helpless in the face of hundreds of tons of fat and flesh...

They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, their hearts pounding in their chests. They're fast; a life of physical exertion combined with their lingering adrenaline allows for a sprint that would make most athletes blush.

A futile effort.

They could have run for hours and have been no closer to safety, the mile-spanning shadow proving an obstacle far too difficult to overcome.

-

Above, the barmaid slumps onto the stool, glad to finally rest her weary feet after hours of work.

The soft *plop* of her supple cheeks against the stool is more than loud enough to disguise the muted *crunch* of a body giving way underneath her weight. Their lingering stain is just another minuscule blemish on the fabric of her dress, washed away the next time she cleans.

-

Inspired by a prompt by the great twitter.com/VekelM
Go give them a follow!