<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/e8/0d/ce/e80dcef43f063042998fac707ff888b4.jpg)</div>The Delvers were a distraction.  True, a fond one, but one that was to pass.  It was time for Nuria Goddess Queen of Flames to take what was hers.  Her boots click upon the marble floor harsh, hard, flames burning in the pits of oil on either side of her, rising and licking at her flesh as she walks.  A mere step behind her on either side are two of her pretties, a well built man, an efreet she believes, and a woman of fire with kisses sweet as ash.  The cult of the living flame had their ideas, small ideas, harsh ideas, cute ideas.  But they meant to chain her.  She set them free.<br/><br/>The Ancient City which once they delved into was hers, Fuegas Mysteas, the Magic Flame and it united the world.  Possessions given to the Goddess Queen and then cast into flame.  Now there was debauchery.  Gone were the chains of servitude, gone were the chains of country.  Here to stay were the chains of flesh.<br/><br/>Mounting the stairs to her dais, Nuria Goddess Queen of Flames feels her two pretties pause and kneel behind her, looking up with eyes not worshipful, but loving.  The cult who thought to raise her as an artifact are gone.  The cult who would take her as a lover and experience the burn that entails remained.<br/><br/>There was just one who still would not cast into the fire.  The Illithid.  They faced him before, his tentacles, his grasping, his mind altering, his magic, but Nuria would not be taken control of again.  Besides, his sister was long dead.  The Illithid is soon behind her, walking with a serious look on his tentacled face.  Though he stands below the dais, he does not crane his neck, nor bow his head.  "Nuria," he murmers out in his garbled voice.  "We meet each other again."