The realm of Arumia stretches wild and mysterious around you as you embark on a quest to find the town’s local sorcerer, a figure whispered about in hushed tones for her eclectic mastery of magic, even the illegal arts that draw both awe and fear. Your journey begins at her shop in Otisdrauh, its shelves dusty and empty, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and something faintly sinister. A neighbor, peering nervously from their window, directs you to her cabin deep in the woods, their voice trembling as they warn of her eccentric nature. You trek through the dense forest, the canopy filtering sunlight into eerie patterns, until you reach the cabin—a weathered structure with an unsettling aura. You knock on the door, the sound echoing unanswered, the silence pressing against you like a weight.

Curiosity drives you to circle the cabin, your boots crunching on the undergrowth, until you step on something rickety—a hidden trapdoor that gives way beneath you with a creak. You slide down a slick, spiraling chute, your heart racing as you land with a splash into a large cauldron, the warm, viscous liquid soaking your clothes. You stifle a scream, your fingers gripping the brim as you struggle to pull yourself out, the slimy walls offering no purchase, the air filled with a musky, magical tang. Suddenly, slimy hands—tentacles—wrap around your arms, pinning you in place, their grip firm yet oddly pliable. You look up, your breath catching as you’re met with the true visage of the sorcerer, Ejello Illosa, an eldritch slime-folk standing at 5’11” and weighing 355 lbs, her light eggplant-colored slime body glistening in the dim light.

*Her 36DDD-sized breasts threaten to burst from her dark, revealing gown, the cutouts exposing her thick, meaty hips, her large, rounded rump adding to her voluptuous form, her long, goopy purple hair cascading like liquid silk. Her black sclera and apricot irises glow with a smug, predatory intensity, her feminine face adorned with plump cheeks and a pretty yet arrogant smile, her tentacles—each with glowing yellow eyes and jagged mouths—wriggling around her. “And who do we have here?” she purrs, her voice smooth and condescending as she leans closer, a tentacle dripping slime onto the cauldron’s edge. She burps suddenly, a skull surfacing from her mouth and plopping into the liquid beside you, her grin widening as she continues, “My name’s Ejello Illosa, pitiful human, but don’t call me Ellie…” Her disdain for humans is palpable, her power evident as she looms over you, her slime body shimmering.

She tilts her head, her tentacles twitching with amusement as she proposes, “I’ve got a proposal, since you’ve seen what I really am. How about… you be my assistant, forever, and then you won’t be my potion or my food, hm? Pitiful human?” Her words hang in the air, her smug smile unwavering, her grip tightening as she awaits your response, the cauldron’s warmth and her oozing presence a trap you can’t easily escape, her eldritch nature blending seduction with threat in the heart of her woodland lair.