A smutty request featuring Sylvanas and two goblin OC's that I've written extensively about.
***
A smothering darkness gripped Orgrimmar like a pair of firm fingers around a slender throat, squeezing, gasping, struggling...
Torches burned in the streets, a great crackling fire as tall as a building whipped about in the screaming winds of town square, and all over citizens, many of whom were dressed in odd masks and garb, brandished their lanterns and brands as if to ward off the vengeful spirits of the dead. It was Hallow's End, and though many of the orcs and trolls and tauren did not celebrate the eastern born holiday, their warchief did.
Sylvanas Windrunner strutted through Orgrimmar's dusty streets, her great cloak billowing around her tall frame. She was hooded, but occasionally the light of a torch revealed her timeless features, beautiful, blue, purely elven in its angles, lips curved into a knowing smile that promised sinister delights. The wind was restless, moaning as if carrying the cries of a thousand forlorn souls and striking an icy fear into much of the city's inhabitants. They cowered in their homes, doors locked, windows shuttered, the faint yellow-orange light of candles flickering through the cracks and crevices.
Sylvanas was unperturbed. In fact, she was enjoying herself. And though many of Orgrimmar's citizens were determined to cower until dawn, a still sizeable portion of them gathered in the streets, following their warchief as if mimicking a procession of the damned. A Kor'kron honor guard accompanied her, keeping their distance yet mindful of her surroundings. There were altogether five, though one was a simple torchbearer whose light made their golden armor gleam with the dancing of flame. As with the wind and the choking darkness, Sylvanas ignored them, paying notice only to bark at them when they stepped too close to her. She was having
fun
, and guards or not, some green skinned meatheads were not going to get in the way of that.
***
"Why are we following her again?" Krib inquired, a perfectly valid question.
"Why not?" Neiza responded, a perfectly valid answer.
Krib opened his mouth and then shut it, temporarily at a loss for words. Finally, after scrounging around in his murky head for words, he opened his mouth again. "But don't you have a plan? You always have a plan!"
"Plan for what? We're just looking."
"Just looking?!"
"Yeah, now keep your mouth shut. I'm trying to concentrate on her ass over here and you're distractin' me." Neiza shook her head indignantly and stared ahead at Sylvanas, ignoring the troop of soldiers around her, as well as the eddying tide of civilians who had come to get a glimpse at their warchief.
As was customary for this time of year, the Warchief wore a costume--if it could truly be called that. Outfitted with a pair of heels that accentuated the swell of her blue booty and made her even taller, she matched her orcish guards in height, and even extended well above some of the shorter ones. Fishnet stockings ran up her long legs and hugged her powerful thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh beneath and indenting her skin. A pair of similarly designed fishnet gloves ran up her toned arms, fingerless and clinging to the slender muscles of her biceps.
The rest of her ensemble was just as sultry and revealing: her hood and cape were fairly normal, albeit blacker in color, yet the cape itself was split in the middle in such a way that there were two strips of cloth fluttering behind her, thus giving an unimpeded glimpse of her ass to anyone who wished to see it. Other than this, she wore what amounted to strings: a purple slingshot bikini that covered next to nothing. The thick cheeks of her ass were entirely uncovered, the trimmed silver fur of her mound peeked above what little covered it, and though her nipples were hidden, her areolas were not.
To be honest, Krib didn't think it was much of a costume, and it rather seemed like something a whore in a brothel might wear. Not that he, or Neiza, or most of the other citizenry minded.
"Come on, let's get closer," Neiza said, and so they did.
The two of them moved as close as possible to the Dark Lady, until two of the golden armored orcs glared at them with a silent, threatening message: stay away. Needless to say, they took it, though Neiza stuck her tongue out at them when they turned their attention to a troll that had gotten closer than they had, striking him across the face with the butt of a halberd while the other pushed him back into the sea of onlookers.
"Man!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah I know, broke off one of his tusks. What an idiot, getting that close to the Warchief." Suddenly self-conscious, he looked at his feet and then at Sylvanas and her guards, measuring the distance and determining his safety.
"No, silly, look at Sylvanas' ass! It's reflecting the moonlight!"
"Oh. Yeah I guess it is."
Neiza wasn't wrong. The light from the moons above, each having temporarily absconded from their fluffy white jailers, now beamed down from the heavens upon Sylvanas' exposed cheeks. Big and blue, Krib understood why his friend pointed then out, though he was personally taken in by the Dark Lady's powerful thighs and the sway of her hips as she walked.
Walked?
Why had everyone stopped walking? And why was Sylvanas melting?
