Synopsis:
An Elven sorceress joins a game of strip poker that turns into an orgy. Featuring an OC from World of Warcraft.
Author's Note:
A story I wrote for a client. I welcome any feedback you may have! I hope you enjoy it!
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POKER AT THE LION'S PRIDE INN
Section I.
One should know when to keep their questions to themselves. But if you must ask, I will tell you.
I am Cassandra, Slayer of Orcs, Keeper of the Legendary Staff, and a Blood Elf of surpassing beauty and allure. Those who have laid eyes upon me and lived to tell the tale always said the same thing: "Her long hair is as golden as the treasures of the Forbidden Reach, and her eyes glow as brightly as The Blue Child. Woe to you should your gaze fall upon her immaculate bosom whose great cleavage cuts deeper than the Narsong Trench, for you shall drown there and never again see the sun if she wills it. And should you survive mortal combat against her, know that she'll grant you the earthly delights of her supple body in exchange for your eternal servitude."
To be frank, this was a wild exaggeration, but one that tickled my fancy.
Alas, with the changing of the times, my days as the famed Orc Slayer were an aging tale. Yesterday, today, and the foreseeable tomorrow were all vacation days.
"Here we are! The town of Goldshire!"
The wagon finally clattered to a stop. My teeth chattered. A cold shiver rippled down my spine as I peeled back the window curtains and looked outside. Even as a tourist, I knew that snow was a rarity here.
"A rather cold season this year, I'm afraid!" The coachman said. "Hope you brought something warm, Cassandra!"
"I have indeed," I replied, throwing a fur mantle over my shoulders. "That's the Lion's Pride Inn over there, isn't it?"
"The very same! But beware the afterhours!" He warned. "The denizens of that inn are not for fair ladies like yourself!"
"I appreciate your concern, coachman. It has been some time, but I do know the area well enough."
"Oh right! You're one of them elves! Good golly, I'm probably a whelp to you!"
"You have the right of it. In any case, I do appreciate the ride. I bid you farewell, sir."
I put on my boots and stepped out of the carriage. Without another word, the coachman snapped the reigns and carted off. Despite my heavy purse, I preferred to use the local carriage service to travel from place to place as I learned from an early age to travel light when possible as the burden of bulky things--even a personal wagon--was often more trouble than it was worth. And if you were wealthy enough--which I was--one would pretty much already own everything if her pockets were deep enough.
Naturally, as I would soon find out, throwing around such coin also attracted unwelcome attention.
It was 8:30 in the evening. The inside of the Lion's Pride Inn seemed untouched by the passing of time. The nostalgic scent of beer, ale, and other spirits stung my lungs. Groups of humans, gnomes and dwarfs laughed and joked and scarfed down plates of meat and bread with their alcohol. And when I decided I also needed a drink after my long journey, I took a seat at the bar whereupon a familiar face approached me.
"Well, well! If it isn't Cassandra! It is you, isn't it?"
"Hello Bradbury. My, you've grown, haven't you?"
"And I see you haven't!"
I remembered it as if it were only yesterday. Bradbury had been hired to mop the floors when he was but a 16-year-old babe. Now, he was a grandfather.
"I take it you own the place now?" I asked.
"Aye, so I do. What brings you to these parts after so many years?"
"I guess you could say--" I thought about it for a moment. "I'm on vacation."
"Vacation? You? HAH!!"
"What?" I furrowed my brow in consternation.
"The great orc slayer is always on the hunt for something. What is it this time? The Secret Spell? The Staff of Stars?"
"Nothing so grand, I'm afraid. I'm here for the Feast of Winterveil."
"Oh, the holidays. Far be it from me to mock you then. I offer my apology."
"None needed, Bradbury."
"Then how about an ale on the house?"
"Come now," I scoffed. "Just take my coin and retire."
"Hah! Funny girl, you..."
I dropped a heavy bag of coins on the counter which Bradbury quickly took. He pulled a glass from under the counter, filled it to the brim, and handed it to me.
It wasn't long before that jingle of coin attracted unwanted attention.
The man approaching me was heavy set like an ox, muscular like a lumberjack, with biceps that could crack a walnut. He was over six feet tall, wore a leather tunic, and was clearly a warrior type that carried a double-bladed axe on his back and swung it daily too. His short, brown hair, bronzed scars, and grey eyes belied his maturity and age. His grizzly, brown beard hung like a trimmed grapevine from his chin, but his demeanor was polite as could be.
At first, I was disinterested.
"Yer a Blood Elf, aren't ye, bonnie?" He spoke. "My, are you a sight for sore eyes! Has anyone ever told ye that?"
I chuckled. "Is that the best you can do, good sir?"
"Heh, well, can't say I didn't try. The name's Bruno, bonnie. Bruno the Ruggard they call me!"
"And what can I do for you, Bruno?" I sipped my ale, not meeting his eyes.
"Me and my boys are upstairs are playing a little card game. I saw that there big bag of coin you just gave to ol' Bradbury. I think you would enjoy playing with us."
"I can't say I would be," I replied, feigning disinterest. "But humor me! What kind of a game?"
With a glint in his eye, he pulled a card from his sleeve--a Queen of Hearts.
"Poker?" My long ears perked up with nostalgia. That game I knew!
"Aye, so it is! A game of cards, coin, and bluffing."
"I know what kind of game it is." I smiled back. "And I should warn you that you may regret asking me to play..."
"Oh? Is that so? There is one important twist, though..."