A request featuring Sylvanas Windrunner from WoW and an ogre.
***
Sylvanas' hands clutched at crinkled parchment, its edges tattered and frayed. Her silver eyes, concealed beneath the red necromantic flames of her sockets, scanned the black lines of Thalassian etched upon it. Newly delivered by one of her rangers, the report concerned matters purely domestic, centered around the regions within the borders of Lordaeron.
Her
borders.
Although there was typically little of interest in such reports, she made it her mission to be aware of everything happening within her domain, and this time only one abnormality stood out to her: an ogre. Specifically, a single ogre that had traveled beyond the bounds of its race's normal territory. Sylvanas tossed the parchment onto the desk and leaned back in her chair. The room was dark, dimly lit by a single candle, the smell of which was pleasant within the still air of her study. Her hood dipped forward, further shadowing her face and the flickering flame of her eyes.
Should she kill it? Capture it? Recruit it? Killing it would accomplish little more than exterminating a troublesome rat in a pantry. Capturing it could lead to useful experimentation by the apothecaries, but if she recruited it, outfitted it, used its brute strength to her advantage... Yes, that was the most lucrative course of action; she would recruit the beast.
A smirk twisted her features. She stood up and took a step towards the door, reached for the handle, then stopped. There was a pulse between her thighs, a throb reminding her that she had an itch in desperate need of being scratched. She froze with her hand still on the doorknob, contemplating another option. There was a use for the ogre she hadn't yet considered. One that was far more pleasing to her personally. Her smirk curved into a smile. Turning the knob, she exited the study.
***
Skeletal legs and ebony hooves trampled the desiccated Tirisfal earth, a small flurry of movement across the solitary plains leading toward the southern woodlands. It was a short trip she was making, particularly upon a steed which didn't tire, and it wasn't long before she had arrived at the area her ranger had indicated.
The Dark Lady pocketed the map her cartographer had drawn and slowed her horse. She was skirting the edge of the forest now, reins clutched in gauntleted hands, blonde hair running freely down her back, eyes searching. Fog rolled in wispy coils along the ground, illuminated by moonlight that speared through the sparse, spindly treetops. She reached for the map once more, glanced up into the forest, then pocketed it again. This was it.
The horse moved at a trot as they drifted through the ancient forest, the sound of its hooves striking dirt and grass and twigs the only discernible noise within the dead forest of southeastern Tirisfal. This area was hardly the place to settle and establish a home in, and while it was entirely possible that the ogre had moved on to greener, or at least less desolate pastures, she could sense that there was something else within this no man's land. Something besides the fluttering duskbats and carrion birds overhead.
A short ways into the forest and it began to open up, the landscape becoming dotted with felled trees and stumps. There was smoke ahead, rising from the orange light of a single fire. There could be no doubt as to the identity of the exceptionally large creature seated beside it.
Sylvanas made no effort to conceal her presence. She rode to the edge of the ogre's camp and then drew rein, dismounting and barking a command in her native tongue, instructing the horse to stay where it was. Through fire or storm, conflict or carnage, it would stay. She had raised it herself, the best of Lordaeron's stock, and then transformed it into the undead war machine that it was. There would be no disobeying her.
A gust of cool wind whipped up her cloak, and the mail and plate of her armor tinkled as she strode towards the ogre. He was standing now, seeming both confused and pleasantly surprised. The latter was promising given her intentions, the former she could only assume was barely off the mark of its normal, barren-minded state. Not that it mattered much, she was not interested in its intelligence.
Sylvanas came to a stop a few cubits away from him, head tilted upwards and bright eyes fixed upon his. He was nearly double her height, with a potbelly, tanned skin crossed by red tattoos, and a pair of blue eyes set within a smushed, almost orcish-looking face. He broke the silence while she was sizing him up, his voice warm and friendly.
"Hello. My name's Thud."
A polite ogre that could form basic sentences? Maybe this trip wouldn't be a complete waste of her time.
"Do you know who I am, Thud?" she asked.
Thud scratched his head, his no doubt tiny brain struggling to recall anything besides what he had last eaten for dinner. Finally, "Hmm... a night elf?"
Sylvanas raised a long, elven eyebrow. "Better than that, but yes, an elf." She began to trace a circle around the ogre, and his head nearly swiveled all the way backwards before he finally turned to look at her. "I'm the owner of this land."
"What land?"
"All of this." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "All that you can see."
"It's dark, I can't see nothin'."
"Look around your camp."
He did as he was told, his great big brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed into a squint, studying his surroundings as if it was he who had just arrived instead of her. "My camp is yours?"
"Yes."
"The fire?"
"Yes."
"The trees?"
