When Ruth finally stopped twitching in her lap Tamara lifted his head and then effortlessly quick-stepped past his form. The soft thud of his body hitting the couch carelessly didn’t even seem to register to her. She supposed she should have been a little more careful with his form. He was fragile compared to her, after all.

“Nah.” Tamara was in a pretty good mood. Ruth might actually wake up in a little bit and he’d finally be able to speak in a more civilized language, or at the very least, one that didn’t tire out her throat. “Attend me.”

She allowed her voice to travel through the barrier that was the wall and doorway of the study. She had no doubt Sikes was waiting to do just that. She could feel the little man scrambling to try and interact with his newly awakened soul shape. It was a fledgling thing, and unremarkable to Tamara’s eyes. It looked like a beetle of some variety with no eyes and a large shell on its back. The coloration a strangely glorious amber hue that seemed to change to vibrant orange as it spun around in his soul space, cautiously investigating the terrain.

Despite her stern face her eyes were dancing with mirth. The irony that the beetle soul shape that Sikes possessed would have, in the past, easily been snatched up by Ruth and become the prize of his beetle collection wasn’t lost on her.

The door opened moments later and Tamara did her best to appear casual. Sikes was so weak that her presence was probably causing stress on him. Someone of her power had to make conscious effort not to just warp the space of those around them.

“My Lady Tamara,” Sikes knelt down and lowered his head, he eyed the floor studiously as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. The awe in his gaze and his voice wasn’t lost on her, though it only earned an eyeroll.

Tamara, after all, had already seen through to his true nature. He wasn’t unique, or special, as he himself probably believed. Tamara had seen many creatures like him.

He was a conniving little man that would feign sycophancy to those he viewed as his betters, heap disdain on those he believed below him, and fight with subtlety and deadly deception to any competition. Though his passion seemed slanted toward history, languages, and cryptozoology, Tamara had no doubt he would throw those to the side in a moment if he believed an advantage could be gained from someone with more power than him.

Tamara couldn’t help it and felt herself sneering a little bit. Fortunately for him, she was willing to throw a bone his way because he was exactly what she needed.

“...I have a case full of vials for you…” She said at last. Initially, she was going to tell him to get off his knees but decided against it. It would just make him wary of her in the future.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Let me tell you what the poisons do, and what you’re going to do with them…”

The more she spoke the grimmer Sikes became. His obvious discomfort just made her smile wider.

I’m sorry Ruth, but I did promise my fealty. This… is how you will become my king.

The thought made her a bit dizzy, the newest chain around her soul space tightening and then relaxing reflexively…

↢↦

Solace waited patiently in the antechamber of the Archives with Merriweather.

Three doors were connected to this small hallway. One door to the study, in which they stood in front of, one door leading to the foyer, which they’d entered through, and another door that led into an increasingly large and unremarkable area used as a kitchen and sleeping area. Like all places in the Under Arch, there were no windows. Simple port holes were scattered here and there on the outer walls of buildings but the idea of a window itself never really caught on since all the light that was being produced by the plants outside was of an artificial nature.

The luminescent plant matter was present inside the Archives growing onto the walls and ceilings, making the place look somewhat like a sea cave.

Honestly, Solace much preferred the glowing plant-life to the slow burning candles that were cheaply produced from oil gathered from the ground scales of certain albino fish that were caught near the edges of the lake. The candles always smelled just the faintest bit rotten to her.

Solace cast a side-glance at Merriweather, trying to look casual in her appraisal of the armored woman. The horned woman was already turned toward her, and smiled, as if she had been waiting for Solace to betray her impatience and nervousness. Then she turned away, staring aimlessly upward as if she were somewhere else.

Solace was nervous. She had never met a god before. She had only interacted with Wilkeena through the Arachne that presided over the castle.

Merriweather though, was a special existence. Even Solace had to admit that.

Merriweather had once been a demi-god, and a Chosen at that.

“You could have worn something less slutty,” Merriweather said calmly.

Solace instantly grimaced, casting a fearful glance at the door. How could Merriweather be so calm? Solace slowly straightened back up and allowed the inherent pride in her body began to replace the worry that had marred her beautiful face for a moment. For though she and Merriweather acted the part of hateful enemy, they had learned over the years that they could trust one another. Solace trusted Merriweather because Merriweather was incapable of lying, and Solace herself believed Merriweather trusted her because there were times when the stern woman had stuck her neck out to casually help Solace. Why that was, she did not know.

“Should… I wear a cover?” Solace finally asked, mustering as much calm as she could. Normally, if Merriweather had said such a thing about her attire she would have immediately hiked up a bit of her skirt and rolled it at the waistline to show more leg… or something. Sex was just a weapon, and Solace wielded it well.

This was different.

In the other room was a god.

“No,” Merriweather answered. There was a hint of boredom in her voice. It was one of the things Solace envied about the other woman. The fact that she was never worried, anxious, afraid -- seemingly every awful thing that haunted Solace had no touch on Merriweather. “The Slaughter God is well known for caring less about… If she wants to kill you, she’ll find a reason.” Merriweather shrugged, rolling her eyes.

The implication clear. The Slaughter God doesn’t give a damn about anything.

“Any tips?” Solace asked again, lowering her own mood slightly by putting aside her pride and ego.

Merriweather turned her head casually, tilting her chin upward at a defiant angle. For a moment Solace thought that her frenemy might actually show some emotion. Just as quickly the fire in her eyes was snuffed out.

“Hope you do not catch her interest.” The grim reply.

Well that wasn’t ominous or anything, Solace mused. She supposed that this was the most danger she’d ever faced in her twenty five years of life. Despite that fact, wasn’t this also an opportunity? Could she really afford to let an opportunity pass? Flynn’s World was not where Solace wanted to stay if she could help it. She had no delusions about how expendable she was. She remembered quite vividly the mountain of corpses that Wilkeena’s small kingdom was built upon. “What if I do catch her interest?”

“It is unlikely,” Merriweather cast her a sad smile. “I’m the most interesting thing here.”

↢↦

“Rise. You may remain while I speak with Wilkeena’s little… lackeys? Retainers? Henchwomen?” Tamara waited for Sikes to get to his feet before looking at him questioningly. “Is there a nice way to say ant?”

“Might I suggest you not refer to them by anything? Ants need not be acknowledged by Her Ladyship’s great--”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Sikes began to nod furiously, appearing as though he’d die from a stroke on the spot. Tamara sighed and tried to rein her temper back inward. She had asked him for one fucking word and he’d tried to talk her ear off. Just listening to his drivel was enough to give her a headache.

“Attend me,” Tamara schooled her expression again and clasped her hands behind her back loosely.

The two women walked through the doorway, the armored woman first and then the… what was this? Tamara actually lost control of her facial expression for a moment as she eyed the redhead with the huge breasts, wide-hips, and… the … what was that? Sargong? A bikini top that barely covered half her breasts and a short skirt that seemed to open on the sides?

Was Wilkeena trying to send a pleasure slave to Tamara?

A vein throbbed on the side of her face and her eyes narrowed. It would take one word and this insolent display of disrespect would be splattered against the walls. If she waved her hand in a more efficient manner it would be better.

The gore will spray the armored woman and then--

All thoughts of how to murder Solace vanished as Tamara looked directly at Merriweather. The harsh look fell from her face as careful consideration replaced it. A smile started to tug up onto her lips despite the murderous thoughts that had just been running rampant through her mind.

“Interesting…” Tamara allowed the word to split out. “Name?”

The armored woman’s right eye twitched. “Merriweather. Greetings, is this one correct in addressing you as the Slaughter Goddess, Tamara?”

“Weren’t you already calling me the Slaughter God in the hallway?” Tamara raised an eyebrow, refusing to smile when the scantily clad pleasure slave next to Merriweather grimaced visibly.

Merriweather seemed to relax in place slightly as she looked at Tamara. There was no defiance. Just a lazy and good-humored acceptance as a smirk spread out across her face. “Yes.”

↢↦

Solace was doing her best not to start panting, struggling admirably to remain upright and appear calm and aloof.

The moment she had entered the room behind Merriweather she’d been given the once-over by the goddess. All thoughts of obtaining favor, opportunity, or advancing ambition had been doused with cold water when the goddess gave her a second look. The frown on her face had struck Solace in a way she wasn’t capable of understanding. It was only a fraction of a second but there was an image behind the goddess that swelled up.

Solace was but a second from being erased from the world… and then the attention had disappeared.

Tamara was wholly focused on Merriweather, with an intensity that made Solace terrified her companion would be reduced to a puddle of gore any second. Instead of that eventuality, Merriweather surprised her by grinning good-naturedly at being called out, even saying yes in answer to the question.

Not that she can lie…

“You can’t lie? That’s an interesting chain. Wow, your soul space is so fucked up I don’t even know what I’m looking at. You’re mutilated in ways that make me even go ‘dammmmmn girl’...” Tamara began chuckling.

Without waiting for a response Tamara gestured casually with a hand and Merriweather jerked forward a few inches, and then began hovering over the fucking floor. Merriweather grunted in obvious discomfort and started to reach behind her for…

Solace grimaced again. They had brought no weapons. The shortsword belted behind her waist had been kept in the foyer. The hand grasped at nothing and then Merriweather sagged visibly in the invisible hand.

“Don’t struggle. I’m just looking.”

“...fuck you…” Merriweather said quietly.

True surprise finally registered on Tamara’s face. Solace refrained from taking a step back, but just barely. Horrified, she waited for the end. Waited for the wrath and rage to come sweeping through the room and just end everything.

After all, she is called the Slaughter God.

The surprise was gone in an instant from the beautiful god's face. The vines of the tattoo melded into her neck and skull seemed to be moving against her skin as she turned Merriweather slightly from one side to the other. She lowered her hand a few moments later, leaving it in place for a moment while Merriweather got her feet under her.

She released Merriweather.

Despite being given a moment to collect her footing, Merriweather still stumbled to her knees. Putting her metal gloved hands on the floor, she clicked the claws that each gloved finger ended with irritably on the floor before slowly pushing herself to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. Solace spared a surreptitious glance and found herself surprised.

Despite being outclassed and handled in every way, Merriweather’s blue cloudy eyes smoldered with ire.

“Well, I don’t hate that look,” the blank expression finally faded from Tamara’s face. It was like there had been a heavy blanket of pressure in the room Solace had been unaware of until it was gone. She gasped aloud and then took several ragged breaths. Merriweather was breathing deep and evenly as if nothing had changed, but Solace noticed that Sikes was also starting to pant slightly.

Tamara gestured to Sikes with a get on with it gesture.

“The Ladyship Tamara has demands,” he began promptly. There was the slightest curl to his lip that could have been a sneer. It disappeared the instant that Tamara began to turn her head toward him, as if she could sense he was giving a look full of tone behind her back.

He hurriedly continued. “Her chosen, Ruth, and his Soul Shape, Rush, shall be left in the Under Arch for a time of up to ten years. It may be less, but is expected to take that long. In the mornings Ruth will be attended to by myself for educational purposes. In the afternoons, Her Most Esteemed would permit you to school him in martial practices at Wilkeena’s… playground.”

Merriweather snorted but didn’t argue. Sikes gave her an apologetic look. Playground must have been a word that Tamara had insisted upon.

“...Her Worshipfulness is also deigning to inform you that Wilkeena has abandoned Under Arch, and only mentions it as a kindness.”

Solace blanked out for a moment. Wilkeena had abandoned them? Surely not. Although it was Flynn’s world, everything was built upon a foundation of plans built by an architect who had fashioned everything just for Wilkeena. They would be in serious shit if everyone found out Wilkeena wasn’t holding the proverbial stick behind the castle anymore. Sikes continued before she could begin to think too much about that though.

“...as such Her Honorableness would like you to treat Ruth as an asset toward securing the future of Under Arch. He holds no restrictions toward his growth and this will only benefit you as he grows. After the term of ten years has ended, the Venerable Hero, Lady Tamara, will petition for stewardship of Flynn’s world, protecting it from…” Sikes trailed off and looked askance now.

“Me?” Tamara smiled, pointing shyly to herself. “I’d be protecting it from me. Cause if you piss me off you won’t even make it ten years. Not to toot my own horn, but you would all be seriously fucked.”

Silence fell over the room. Despite her unprecedented loss of control earlier, Solace was glad to see that Merriweather was remaining calm. Indeed, she was staring at the unconscious form on the couch. A form that Solace hadn’t immediately picked out, and now she wondered how. It was probably the fucking slaughter god in the room?

Still, the similarities between Merriweather and this Ruth were startling. Both had horns, the weird skin coloration, the odd and unnatural eyes, certain skin attributes. While Merriweather was brightly colored with crimson and gold and seemed sleek, this man was tall, almost skeletal, and sharp in lots of the right places.

Frankly, Solace admitted she wouldn’t have minded having a go at him… Provided of course…

Solace blanked out for a moment as she found Tamara’s attention once again focused on her. Thoughts of seducing Ruth in the immediate future fled her mind under those eyes. In fact, it was all she could do not to faint on the spot.

Almost on cue, the man with horns sat bolt upright on the couch with a shriek. “...ill you!”

↢↦

Ruth startled awake and was sitting bolt upright. His chest heaving. His mind hurt. Not just hurt. Fucking hurt.

“Ow…” He leaned forward and cradled his fragile skull in palms, feeling numb at the ends of his fingers. The fingers pressing against his skull felt foreign, like they didn’t even really belong to him. Part of his tongue was also numb. He hoped it wasn’t permanent.

Am I damaged? Am I wounded? Did… did she… she? TAMARA.

Feeling the fetters of his magic still sealed away didn’t stop Ruth. He immediately jumped to his feet and identified the object of his torment. A snarl ripped from his lips and his eyes lit up with glee as he… as he…

He had been springing at her back but now he was being grabbed by the back of the neck like a scolded puppy. Tamara made a tsking noise from behind him.

“Must you always try to murder me at every chance?” The disapproval in her tone was obvious. “In front of the guests even?”

Ruth was being turned slowly so he could see the two women in front of him. The first was a woman that immediately caught his interest. She wore black lacquered armor or… was that just her skin? Scales? It was hard to tell because the scales(or armor?) was black but parts of her were red and gold and delicious looking. Old scars crawled up from certain areas, leading his scrutinizing gaze on a wild path up and down her body. That body stiffened under his appraisal. Continuing his visual exploration he found that her gloves were particularly interesting. He could see that her fingers appeared in parts of the joints but didn’t seem to go all the way to the end in some places. The gloves ended in hooked claws that looked like talons.

Ruth really liked her aesthetic! Even the horns were a nice touch. She looked very Draconic.

Taking a chance, Ruth rumbled out to her, hoping to appeal to a fellow traveler.

“Help me kill this bitch and you can keep all her shit!” He uttered in Draconic.

Only now did he see that her blue eyes were narrowing. Anger was slowly being displaced by disbelief and… amusement? He scowled back at her disappointedly when she said nothing. It had probably been too much to hope for that she’d help him get away from the evil that had fallen upon him.

Perhaps her companion would…

Surprise caused him to go completely limp in Tamara’s grasp. He looked from her perfect unmarred feet and let his eyes travel up the shapely calves. The slight piece of cloth covering her hips did nothing to keep him from figuring out her exact shape. Soft tummy, huge breasts, slender arms and soft hands. Red hair spilled out over a face with emerald eyes and a knowing smile as she watched his reaction.

The smile disappeared when, in perfect Under Common, Ruth finally put words to his thoughts on the matter.

“...that, is without a doubt, the ugliest creature I have ever seen in my entire life,” and it was the truth. There was nothing about this creature that seemed devoted to living. No claws or talons, no muscles, no special abilities. It was like they had raised a prey creature and given it clothing or something.

Maybe he was supposed to eat it?

Thankfully, Tamara’s laughter destroyed the abrupt silence his awkward statement had left. “I’m so embarrassed! That is so embarrassing! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Tamara continued to laugh while she held Ruth off the ground. His scowl deepened as her full body laughter actually started to pull him up and down.

↢↦

Merriweather watched the Tiefling get shaken up and down, a petulant frown on his face while his goddess keeper laughed helplessly. She looked to the side and saw that Solace was a full body deep red. A flush so full that the normally confident woman was actually pouting. Her eyes were tearing up.

Bear with it little sister… That fool just saved your life.

Merriweather narrowed her eyes as she watched the chosen carefully. Had it been by design that he had looked at her first and spoken in a language she didn’t understand? It was obvious that Tamara had started to grin when she heard whatever he had said.

Initially, Merriweather had thought this chosen to be a lech. The way his eyes traveled across her body had been frank and honest. His appreciation for everything he saw flooding his face with excitement. It was when he made the cutting gesture, then spoke, then gestured behind him with glee that she realized he wanted her to help him kill Tamara!

Impossible, but slightly gratifying nonetheless.

Then he had spoken in the old evil language they were all required to learn. Under Common. Perfect Under Common. His debasing Solace had no doubt caused the Goddess to dismiss her desire to kill the woman in favor of treating her as a joke.

Was… all this on purpose? A cunning scheme? A devious mind behind an idiot’s facade?

...as Ruth began flailing and twisting to try and reach a book on the edge of a table near where he was being dangled, with the clear intention of trying to use it to commit deicide, Merriweather was honestly unsure.

Planar Tiefling: Ruth (Level 13) (Baby Ruth/Lord Rush) (Lightning Specialized)

5 of 5 spell slots

Languages: Draconic, Under Common(Evil Races - Mastered)

★★★★ Limited Electrical Immunity

Mana / Regeneration Rate: (20/20) (2HR)

★Lightning Ward: 50%

★Lightning Chain: 50%

★Lightning Wings: 0%

★★ Shock: (Mana Consumption 2)

★★Thunder Struck: (Mana Consumption 10)

★★Magnetic Field: (Mana Consumption 1, Upkeep 1)

★★★★★Devouring Plasma Wave: (Mana Consumption MAX) Effects: ???

Lord Rush: ★★★★★ Innate: SHAKE SHAKE