Authors note: this story takes place after the defeat of the Lich King, and still takes place in the World of Warcraft universe, on the alliance side.
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Weeks went by quietly in Goldshire. Merchants traveled through with their wares. Our blacksmith clanged hot iron into tools and weapons. Farmers threshed their fields and sent their wheat and barley to the great cities. New members of the guard replaced the old, some frustratingly immune to bribes. Gathering my silks from Silvermoon proved harder, and I sent messages to Booty Bay inquiring about possible shipments of enchanted cloth and other trinkets too hard to find on this side of the world. My wounds healed without a scar, militia men whose injuries had become septic came to me, and I cured them as discreetly as I could.
But I was drained. I was tired, and languid. An orc Shaman, her name was Daedra, called the feeling 'the barren tree', for she said that expending so much mana through combat left you like a solitary fruit tree, begging to be watered, so it might bear fruit again. The shamans depended on their people to replenish themselves, and so I too had studied their rituals.
That nervous archer? I learned he was called Rhombur. His grandfather had been a knight of the second war who raised the son and grandson alike on tales of fighting. After the battle, Rhombur grew curious of me, wondering where I learned to fight. I offered him a deal: hit three bull's eyes out of twenty arrows and he could not only join me in a performance, but I would share with him exactly one story.
I did not think a young man with work on a farm would have much chance to dedicate to archery, but he persisted. He fulfilled his goal, and Lyria herself confirmed it.
So there, I danced before his fascinated, soft brown eyes, stripping myself of my silks while the men and women of Goldshire cheered on. Lyria had completely forgone her own breeches then and rubbed herself. Half the audience enjoyed watching her. Not letting her steal my performance, I dragged Rhombur up on stage. He hoisted me up in the air, my legs wrapped around his hips. He possessed near as much strength as the Orcs of Warsong hold. He turned me around outwards. I relished in my nakedness, baring my chest and arms for the masturbating crowd.
When Rhombur bent me over a barrel, my legs spread on instinct. He went down, running his tongue around my pussy. As he imbibed, so I became drunk with enjoyment. Rhombur removed his clothes. I found his tanned skin beautiful and stretched with muscle. He aimed his cock and collected his reward for his marksmanship. This young man had only recently seen real conflict. He fucked me with the passion as only one with something to prove does. Yes, I enjoyed allowing him to enter in my show, and yes, I knew I would fulfill my promise to him.
I took my young lover upstairs with me. There, I started a fire within my hearth and bid him to lie with me on the rugs before it. Curled next to me, with his hands rubbing my body, he asked for a story. I began like this: I supported regular soldiers in the Howling Fjord. It is a cold, empty tundra south of nearly impassable mountains. We had been assigned to assess the threat of these half-giants known as Vykrul. Rhombur hardly believed such beings existed. We escorted a cleric, whose purpose had been to establish diplomatic ties. Vykrul though are wrathful and brutish. They hurled stones upon us. Were it not for the cleric's quick shielding, he surely would've been crushed. I guided soldiers to safety, but we found ourselves pinned between an over snowed path to our east and half-giants to our west.
While our compatriots kept the Vykrul distracted with spawned elementals of fire, I guided four up a mountain side.
Then, my soldiers and I flanked the Vykrul. We slayed those who did not surrender and captured two. The alliance held them as prisoners for two weeks. Only then did the half-giants decide it was time to talk.
"Wouldn't it have been better to fight your way through?" said Rhombur.
"Ah no," I said. "Our mission was against the Lich King. The half-giants? They might have been allies in better times."
"So what did you agree to?"
"We kept their warriors hostage," I said. "Until the Vykrul agreed to allow us passage."
"That's a small victory," said Rhombur. His meaty arms squeezed my chest.
"It is," I said. "And that is my story."
"Can I ask another question?" he said.
"You may," I said.
"Why do you not enlist again with Stormwind?" he said. "Why do you stay here? Is it only for joy of dancing? You could save lives."
Rhombur had never left Elwynn forest, had barely shed blood and had a thirst for the world beyond his village. I turned my face away from him.
"Yasmeen, I'm sorry I didn't mean..."
"It is fine," I said. "Listen, for this is truth: when I returned to the alliance, they accused me of treachery and attempting to sabotage their rations. When I had made tremendous sacrifice to warn them of the true saboteur. I had a cure with me."
Remembering how I must have appeared to the Alliance when I returned from the Horde side, I shuddered. I arrived on a ship called the Hammerhead, known well to work for Horde and Alliance alike. My armor had been a collection of Exodar crystals patched with Orcish metal. Taurens had stitched my warm furs. I carried a precious, and malignant, journal from an undead alchemist. The crate of unmarked bottles no doubt invited suspicion.
"They would not listen and threw me into the brig. It wasn't until a commander's own son grew ill that they used the antidote I brought with me."
"Returned?"
By the prophets, I spoke too much. I nodded, with my lips tight.
"By the light, Yasmeen," he continued. "They treated you horribly. Did they bring you home in chains, like an animal?"
I shook my head.
"They released me. I could have taken a boat back to Stormwind. Instead though, I discovered a merchant vessel with a handsome captain. The seas are lonesome, and I cared not where I would go."
I looked back to Rhombur. His face displayed awe of me. He considered my action brave. I judged it one of despair.
"Rhombur, you wish to join the Stormwind guard? To fight for the Alliance?" I said. "Do you wish to see the Vykruls, or the beasts of the barrens, or even the great mushroom forests in Outland?"
"Yes."
"Then do not let my sad stories deter you," I said. "Be brave and seek your adventures."
I smiled. My young lover's tongue thrust onto mine. He pressed so hard, and so deep. Amazing, it is, that such a small muscle can do so much. Slipping into a distracted bliss, I had to push him away lest I forget what else must be done. I retrieved a set of candles, four of them, each marked with runes from the shamans.
"Rhombur, help me light them," I said. "Then please, do not be disturbed with what I speak next."
"What are we doing?" he said. His eager arousal pleased me. To tease hadn't been the idea, but it was fun.
"It is a simple ritual," I said. We lit the candles then I placed them on the ground. Whispering my accented orcish over them, I waved my hands. The magic ebbed in the air, and my recitation completed. In a glow, a small totem appeared in the center. It looked like a wooded stump, with its top carved into a bowl, filled with water as blue as the moon wells.
"By the light!" he said. Shamanic magic is nearly unknown in the Alliance lands, most certainly of all in villages like Goldshire.
"It is known as a mana tide totem," I said. I dipped my hand into its pool and sprinkled some on my skin, and then onto Rhombur. "I need to energize, but first we must energize it."
After leading Rhombur into my bed, I fell to my back, and he rolled on top of me. Oh yes, he kissed me deep again, and pressed my hands above my head. Pinned there, I kicked my legs into the air. His cock rubbed up and down the slit of my pussy. His breath became heavier and deeper. He pushed into me, and we moaned together.
"Fuck me," I said.
Rhombur slammed his hips into me in explosive successions. His passion had a primal nature to it, and soon the tide totem bubbled. Next, I begged him for a new position, and Rhombur turned me over to my belly, penetrating me once again. The tide's water flowed out to a single ethereal stream of mana, and it flowed into me. So invigorated, I could not hold back my orgasm. I came hard as Rhombur's muscular arms leaned over me. He pulled out, panting, and I lay there to recover.
Rhomubr gazed at the small streams of mana. It flowed like a river towards me.
"It's beautiful," he said.
"Isn't it?" I said. I rolled him to his back and took position above him. When my arms raised, the rivers flowed faster to me. He enjoyed the view, and I enjoyed the ride.
* * *
While I bid Rhombur not to share my tale, it was perhaps silly of me to expect silence in such a small village. The talk of "Vykruls" spread through Goldshire. Innkeeper Farley asked if such a thing was true. I sighed and shared it was.
"A good thing such beasts are so far north," said Farley. "my inn could not withstand such monsters."
"Goldshire is quiet," I agreed. It was why I was here. "Let us not take it for granted."
"Not in the least," agreed Farley.
He was right. We had no further trouble with Gnolls, yet Lyria's militia trained hard. Rhombur's dedication to his bow did not lapse either. Searching out new equipment, or inquiring about service to the Stormwind guard, some from our village traveled to Stormwind.
Then one day, someone came down after them. My long-lost friend captain Soyora trespassed into the Goldshire inn. No shame of my nudity do I have with her. Far too long had I known this independent sea captain and her crew. She held her dark brown hair back with a red ribbon. Her brown hands showed the callouses of years on the ocean. Winking, she took a sly sip of her ale. Damn her and those large eyes. What was she doing here?
"Soyora?" I said serving her meal.
"Oi there, Yasmeen," she said. "Been a few seasons, hasn't it?"
