Negotiating a contract with a Skaven warlord is never truly a safe thing. Tharquench Sizestealer perhaps styled himself as a noble, upstanding hero, trying to pierce out from the dark masses by upholding some sort of standards and 'ethics', but all knew he could get rid of a troublesome rival or underling permanently about as well as the warlord next door. It would be a foolish and daring rat to try and backstab a powerful Skaven like Tharquench with a warp ray that could shrink even the greatest of Skavendom, foolish enough to lead a band of so-called 'Deathvermins' perhaps.

Squlk Deathmaw turned out to be a fierce negotiator, having already forced Tharquench to raise the stakes multiple times. He didn't just lend out his mercenary company to any upstart tyrant wishing to have fancy troops to throw away in their name, and despite the warlord's forceful insistence of his tactical brilliance and light hand, he demanded more, way more. More currency at first, then more oversight, and finally a demand that stopped his partner dead in his tracks. If he was going to even allow this Sizestealer to lay eyes on his troops, he would assume control. Direct control.

Predictably, Tharquench's blank stare indicated imminent aggression, Squlk had pushed too far but was nowhere near done yet. The moment the warlord slid his warp ray out of his belt, the deathvermin calmly stunned him with a light jab to the snout, using his spare hand to snatch the device right out of his confused hands. The renowned warlord that shrunk many others wasn't enough to end his story, and now he had the control he wanted, laughing maniacally as he watched the welp promptly kneel and beg, blurting out excuses and assurances that the deal could still be closed on -amicable- terms.

Whatever mercy or pity Squlk felt for him spared Tharquench a rougher fate, or perhaps he simply had a new use for his partner-foe now that he could dictate terms as he always wanted. He calmly sat into Tharquench's throne and dictated his first demand, ordering the warlord to lay flat on his back before him. He complied in confusion, before promptly meeting his fate. Squlk's warm paws stomped down on him without an afterthought, leaving him stewing in a mix of shock and sudden arousal. He could hear the mercenary leader calmly working his warp ray, warming it up as he aimed at his midriff.

Tharquench could have imagined worse fates, even as he felt an entire vial's worth of shrinking serum being zapped directly into his body and his size quickly beginning to collapse under his overwhelming hire. The irony of being at the feet of the mercenary leader he had just hired to protect and assist him was palpable, and his eagerness hardly helped his case as he rapidly sprung up from the floor to go face first into Squlk's raised paw. The sniffs were shameless unmistakable, the warlord was genuinely worshipping his greatness, or at least his bare footpaws, certainly a pleasurable way to enter a contract with him.

The warlord only became raunchier as he continued to plummet beneath his left paw, forceful sniffs now augmented by licks and kisses as he was slowly pushed up his paw and under his hulking toes. By now, any dignity had left the rapidly diminishing rat, and Squlk idly mused his countless terms with an amused tone. He'd take everything he wanted and more, he would be all-powerful within -his- lair, and Tharquench would get what he obviously desired most of all out of him and his crew, something to keep him down, in check and... entertained until Squlk grew bored and sought a new adventure.

As Squlk kicked back and stared at his paws and the new unsightly mote of dirt embedded into the ball of his tired foot, he could barely even imagine the pent-up excitement and lust emanating from Tharquench. It wasn't too clear what he'd do from there with such a pathetic and eager employer, but at least foot grime didn't talk back like he dared to do minutes priors...

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