A request featuring a client's OC, Nick, whom I have written about before, celebrating Hallow's End with Sylvanas and some of her dark rangers.
***
High atop a dark tower gifted to him by the Banshee Queen, Nick looked over the ruined city sprawled out beneath him. Normally more dead than it's occupants, the ruins of Lordaeron took on a new glimmer of life, illuminated by the light of the moon peeking out behind a thin layer of clouds. It was Hallow's End, one of the few holidays the Forsaken truly celebrated. Revelers mostly contained themselves within the Undercity, but many leaked outside into the old Capital City as well. From so high up they looked barely larger than ants, yet the mood in the air was different, less bleak and cold. It was a rarity to say the least.
He watched as they formed into a large mass of bodies and shuffled through a gated overpass, some striding as if fully alive while others hobbled decrepitly. No doubt they were amassing for the speech that Sylvanas gave every year--a speech celebrating the history of the Forsaken and their perseverance. Personally, he'd rather celebrate with her in bed.
Within a few minutes the city was as desolate as ever save for two indistinguishable figures making their way towards his home. Curious and more than a little wary, Nick shifted into his worgen form, becoming larger, more muscular, more sharp, and much more hairy. It didn't take long for the two figures to ascend the counter-clockwise curving stairs up to his room. A flurry of knocks roused him to his newly installed door. Opening it, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Trick or treat!" Two oddly dressed elves greeted him as he opened the door, pale and with burning red eyes. Clearly undead. The elf who spoke sounded as if she was attempting to mimic an enthusiastic child and she exchanged an uncertain glance with the other elf, seeking her approval. She just shrugged.
The one who spoke was dressed like a warlock, carrying a great big staff with a glowing purple crystal sitting atop it. Spikey shoulder pads with what looked like real skulls impaled upon them adorned her shoulders, while a form-fitting, open navel robe clung to her tight body. The other elf leaned against a two-handed hammer and was clad in a mix of lustrous plate and fine leather. Her shoulder pads had a glowing angel motif etched into them, and her little breastplate not only pressed her breasts up and out of the armor, but left her stomach uncovered.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Nick's voice came out as a growl.
The as of yet silent elf spoke up first, her thigh high leather boot resting on top of her hammer. "I am Kalira." Her voice, made more gravelly by undeath, was husky and oddly sexy.
"And I'm Alina." The more talkative woman had a melodious voice; feminine and pure, she sounded a bit annoyed that her companion spoke first.
"That doesn't answer the second part of my question." Nick closed the door a couple of inches, clearly indicating his lack of patience. The two elves took the hint.
"What, you've never heard of trick or treating before?" The spirited one--Alina--pointedly tapped his arm with her staff as if scolding a school boy. "We're here for treats." She paused for a moment. "
Not
tricks."
What?
"I don't have any treats."
"Sure you do."
Nick scratched his furry head and looked around. "I suppose I've got some wine but--" The 'paladin' interrupted him.
"We do not drink..." Kalira paused for emphasis but he cut her off before she could continue.
"Wine, I know. What
do
you want then?" A predatory gleam formed in their eyes and he had the sneaking suspicion that he was the prey.
"We're hungry," Alina whined, eyeing him up and down. There were three things he figured she could be talking about, one of which he wasn't too keen on. Some undead were known to practice cannibalism, though he had never witnessed it himself.
As if sensing his thoughts, Kalira rolled her eyes and stepped forward into his room, nudging Alina out of the way with the shaft of her hammer. "We're here to fuck," she said candidly.
Well that's certainly better than cannibalism.
He eyed them with newfound interest, appraising their bodies as they did the same to him. Thin with fair skin and obvious curves, they still lived up to the beauty standards elves were known for. Kalira had faded black hair fashioned into a bob cut that nearly hid one of her eyes, while Alina had flowing blonde hair that went down to her mid back and cascaded down over her breasts. In life they may have been fair maidens with soft, innocent features, but in unlife their features were more gaunt and pallid, projecting a darker yet sexy visage not unsimilar to Sylvanas herself. He had mounted worse, that's for sure. There was just one problem.
"Does your mistress know that you're here?"