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"Which.. church?" F blurted, unable to recall seeing a church anywhere on the island.

"Er.. Only on Sundays?" he suggested lazily. "Nothing smaller van a lemur? Lightly salted with a dash of parmesan?" F cracked a small flea-like smile, one which soon became a light-hearted grin.

He scratched at the bristles along his arm even so, hoping he was far from right. After all, for all he knew, Stewart could be part of some strange, secretly violent, island cult. F imagined goat-people would be against animal sacrifice rather strongly, and wondered if perhaps it wasn't something to joke about.

"My cousin was a Buddhist." he announced blithely, fingering the rope between him and Gurty.

"Oh.." F responded, and then grinned suddenly, apparently finding something rather humorous in the idea that the blood splattered satyr stood in front of him was a Catholic Priest.
And they were on a tropical island. And he just downed a pint of goat's blood!

F bent over slightly with the motion of a snort of laughter that he couldn't contain, and clamped a hand to his mouth. Then almost as suddenly, he stood up straight again, a rather worried look on his face.

"Sorry." he croaked. "I jus' realised 'ow obsurd vis all is."

"Well." he announced with a slight grin. "I fink I should get Gurty 'ere somefing to eat. A treat, per'aps." The flea-man looked down at the animal, who was now blanking him. She was doing so quietly, at least.

"I'm F, by the way." he gave a small nod and then moved to head off, but before he left he reached to pat the goatly man on the shoulder. "Fanks for ve 'and, mate. I may 'ave to recruit your 'elp again some time.
Bet you can't wait." he offered a wry grin, before slowly turning towards the cafeteria.

((Reserved for the ChanaxStewart TF RP. Yeah I'm crazy/lazy awesome like that XP ))

Like most of Stewart's previous changes, his begin with headaches. A pounding migrane that permeates even his sleeping consciousnes. It throbs, it aches, and it gets worse as the day progresses turning into a sharp nails driven into his skull. Worse... and worse... and worse... until it feels like your head is going to explode unless the pressure is relieved.... and then it is, in the form of your horns spirilianing longer.

The horns only hearald the begining. Like a spreading mold the fur crawls over the rest of your body - anywhere that was still skin is covered with the thick, curly white fur.

Your hands distort even more, becoming more hooflike, the middle nails growing thicker, the peripheral fingers shrinking to almost nonexistance. Then... a grinding in your face. Your small, proto muzzle grows out into the full thing.

Your changes finallly abate, leaving Stewart the spitting image of the horned goatman....

After he awoke from the dream, Stewart found himself covered in a cold sweat. The last time he had a dream like, it was when he changed…No it must have been something he had eaten, he couldn’t be changing again right? As he quickly banished these thoughts from his mind, he got up and began to cross himself. But as he was about to finish, a sharp pain struck his fingers. What precious little he had of his human hands soon fused together to form unforgiving hooves. God, it was happening again wasn’t it? He already looked like enough of a freak, why was he being punished?!? But as soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Though he still was too much of a coward to admit what he had done was truly wrong. As he was silently cursing himself, he hardly noticed the white fur spreading across what was left of his human skin. It itched like hell, but Stewart soon found that scratching with hooves was a lot harder than it looked. He thought the worse had happened, but his transformation was far from being over. He though his head was going to explode as a sudden headache began to come over him, the pressure kept building up and building up until he felt his already heavy horns grow larger. Next the pain traveled down and struck his face, tears began to stream down his cheeks as he felt his already deformed face push out into a muzzle. Stumbling over to a mirror, he was horrified at the creature staring back at him. No longer did he even have a slight resemblance to what he once was, no now he was little more than a beast. A goat, there was no escaping it now that’s all he was. Trembling from a mixture of hate and fear, Stewart whispered “I am undone” before allowing himself to crumple down upon the floor. Whimpering to himself, he soon fell back asleep again, hoping it was little more than a horrible dream.