A request featuring Tyrande Whisperwind from WoW getting gangbanged by a group of blood elves.
***
She had the distinct desire to kill this man.
But that wouldn't be very diplomatic.
Tyrande crossed her legs and withheld a sigh. Across from her was the man she'd traveled halfway around the world to meet: Grand Magister Rommath. A mage, a scholar, and more wary than a street-cat. A certain degree of circumspection was fine, and in fact necessary for a politician, but he'd been dragging his feet for nearly a week over a fairly simple trade agreement.
Is it a trick? How will our lumber industry be affected? Will we be worse off without isolationist policies? Do we need protectionist quotas or tariffs?
Frankly she was tired of answering his questions, especially when most of them concerned his own country as opposed to hers. History made it obvious how open trade had benefited the human kingdoms, the orcs and trolls, even the Forsaken and the blood elves. Yet still he dragged his feet, confusing prudence with lack of will.
Meanwhile Malfurion is probably frolicking in the realm of dreams
, she thought.
As matriarch of the night elves, she was beginning to feel like she had to do everything. It weighed her down more than she'd like to admit.
"It's getting late, Your Majesty. Shall we continue this tomorrow?" Rommath flashed her a genuine smile and stood up.
Tyrande gritted her teeth and held back an insult. "Of course."
She said her goodbyes and then left, admiring the city as she made the short walk back to her apartment. The blood elves were known for their affiliation with the sun, but night suited Silvermoon just fine. Lights of red, white, green and yellow dotted the city's streets and buildings, and although they'd made a tremendous shift away from their kaldorei ancestors, the blood elves had not entirely abandoned nature. There were numerous parks located throughout the city, and great healthy trees lined alabaster roads and walkways. She had to admit that it was impressive. Rather than simply waging war with it, they'd put their magic to good use constructing buildings that seemed nigh impossible to build by conventional means.
One such building had caught her eye the day before. She passed by it every day on the walk back to her quarters. The bar--for that's what she assumed it was, given the flashing glass symbol above its door--was of an oddly non-Euclidean shape, as if it had been stretched, twisted, and turned at either end during its construction. Star-shaped windows adorned its walls, and inside she could see the vague silhouettes of people moving to and fro.
Tyrande stopped and thought for a moment. She could either go back to her apartment and toil over various political issues... or take a break and get a drink.
Easy choice, especially as the latter could be used to justify the former. It wasn't just an excuse, though, she needed time to relax and refresh herself.
With a newfound vigor in her step, she hurried back to her apartment to change and get cleaned up. Normally she only wore one of two things: her combat armor, or her ecclesial gown, but she'd received a new dress as a diplomatic gift from Rommath and it was as good a time as any to try it on.
It was a halter dress with a deep, plunging neckline, more revealing than what she was accustomed to, but that was fine. She wasn't a prude, and night elves had a certain proclivity towards wearing as little as possible anyway.
"A fine gift for a fine lady," she said, eyeing herself in the mirror and nodding approvingly.
For a priestess she had a body that was more decadent that any warlock's summoned succubus. Tall and slender like a willow tree, but with all the curves that made men stare. A stacked chest led down to wide hips, and wide hips were complimented by a big ass to match. Her lavender skin stood in sharp contrast to the fine white fabric of her dress, and its silver trim, festooned with tiny gemstones, elevated it to a status befitting of someone of her powerful stature.
When she stepped back onto the street and through the doors of the strange looking bar, she was at first shocked by both the amount of people inside the place, as well as the sheer number of different races intermingling together. Most of the patrons were blood elves, but there was a smattering of orcs, trolls, nightborne, and even humans. They talked, they drank, and she could already see two women doing things underneath a table that almost made her turn around and leave.
Resisting the temptation to stop and stare, Tyrande ducked into a shadowed booth located between two marble pillars and caught the attention of a waitress. She was a slender thing, with long ears and even longer legs, copper hair and green eyes that seemed eager to please. Her outfit consisted of high heels and a diaphanous gown that was tight where it counted and loose where it mattered.
There weren't any other night elves, so she figured this woman was probably happy to serve her for that reason alone.
The blood elf introduced herself as Lyril and did a practiced bow that showed off her cleavage. Tyrande wasn't interested. She ordered a bottle of leywine and took a swig. She didn't typically drink, but she considered this a special occasion and anything infused with mana was worth drinking.
As she sipped her wine from the bottle and enjoyed the clamor of music and voice, she surveyed the room from her isolated corner. It was a plush joint, dark with lots of dim lights upon the tables and walls that glowed red, green, and purple. Raised platforms, some large, some small, some round, some star-shaped, furnished the spacious interior. All of these platforms had at least one elf dancing atop them in various stages of undress, earning what looked to be a hefty amount of silver coin. She had a good guess as to what a gold coin could buy.
Skipping over the large crowd, she noticed that there were half a dozen doors lining each side of the building. She hadn't noticed them on the outside, so she assumed they led into individual rooms of some sort. Her brows furrowed, but before she could ponder things further a group of men walked into her field of vision, taking a seat not too far from her. Raising the bottle of leywine to her lips, she watched them while they ordered their drinks. They were young--as far as she could tell. Four in total. Tall, handsome, and wearing the robes typical of blood elves. More apparent was the fact that they were obviously enjoying themselves, and their outward display of jovial companionship made her sigh. She should have at least taken Shandris with her. Or an aid. Or a prisoner.
Anyone to stave off the boredom with conversation.
A debilitating surge of loneliness caused her to take another swallow of wine. Time passed and as it did she drank and drank until she was plastered, with her interest now keenly fixated on the elves across from her as they engaged in a heated game of cards. Judging by their reactions only one of them seemed to be any good at whatever game they were playing, but they were all clearly enjoying themselves.
At some point they stopped and looked around, past the naked dancers and through the energetic crowd. She knew what they were looking for. It was probably what everyone else was looking for as well, but she was surprised when one of them looked right at her. For some unknown reason she held his gaze, and that was enough for him to stand up and make his way over to her.
"Hi," he said simply.
She smiled. What a ridiculous situation this was. A blood elf trying to pick her up. Not only was she married, but this man was likely less than even a quarter of her age. She took another sip of wine and set the empty bottle down.
"Hello there," she said.
"Studying our culture?" he asked, smiling back.
What a nice smile. He looked friendly enough, and like most elves he was fairly attractive, although he appeared far less stern than most night elf men. The red hair was certainly different...
