Arjak had made plenty of mistakes in his career as a mercenary, but none of them were as embarrassing as his latest one. For the first time in many years, he had broken one of his own rules and accepted a job outside of Zandalar. His client was inexplicably wealthy and knew good protection was worth its weight in gold. What should have been an easy voyage to Booty Bay ended in disaster, however, when humans intercepted their vessel and attacked. He could have fended them off, too, if he wasn't drunk. All it took was the butt end of a weapon to the back of his head to knock his lights out. Now, on top of a massive headache, he was locked in the brig of an enemy ship.
Save for his loincloth, his captors had confiscated his belongings. The cage he found himself in was dingy, but he had endured worse conditions before. As far as he could tell, he was alone, leaving him to assume his client and the rest of the crew were not so lucky. He already despised the humans for murdering his king, but now his hatred for them was personal.
While he was busy mulling his misfortune, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. The lowest deck of the ship was the darkest, but the dim glow of a lantern allowed him to make out a lithe figure descending a ladder. He stood up, bristling with anger. Whoever they were, he would make them regret approaching him. Yet, when they did, he was surprised to find the human was not the mangy mariner he expected. On the contrary, she was pretty lass with fair skin, a tender face, and long strawberry hair. In stark contrast to her innocent features, she wore the trappings of a sea wench. The ensemble consisted of buckle strap boots that rose past her knees, a ruffled skirt that went as far down as her thighs, a billowy blouse, and a tight corset that was generous with her cleavage. Judging by her dimensions, she had bloomed quite handsomely, and her libertine style suggested she had no reservations flaunting her attractiveness.
"You're bigger than I thought you'd be!" she remarked with a distinctly Kul Tiran accent. "I guess all those stories I heard about the scary trolls make sense now."
"Oh, I can be real scary if ya don't let me out of here." Arjak threatened.
"So you do speak common? Good! What's your name?"
"Ya don't need to know my name."
"Well, mine is Coral. It's nice to meet you, even if you don't feel the same way."
"How ya be feelin' if I put ya in a cage?"
"Yeah... Sorry about that. My father decided to take you with us instead of tossing you into the sea. Apparently, a big troll like you would fetch a handsome price at the Dueler's Guild."
"De what?"
"The Dueler's Guild. They're an underground fighting ring in Boralus. You'd be sold off as a prizefighter, I'd wager."
Arjak laughed. "Ya gotta be out of ya mind if ya tink I be lettin' dat happen."
"I didn't think you'd be too savvy about it, but my father isn't known for being nice." Her eyes drifted down his torso, distracted by his anatomy. "Where are your tattoos?" she asked inquisitively.
"What tattoos?"
"Don't all Zandalari trolls have golden tattoos?"
"Nah... Not all of us be flashy."
"Oh, that's too bad... I've always wanted to see tattoos like those up close."
He found it difficult to hold contempt for the young woman. She seemed kind, even if her father was a demon. It was obvious had no part in his capture and probably would have released him by now if there were no consequences for it. Even still, he had to get off the ship, and her naivete seemed to be the perfect way to accomplish that.
"I've got sometin' else ya might wanna see up close" he proposed in a raspy tone.
Her head canted to the side with curiosity. "What do you have in mind?"
In the next moment, he dropped his loincloth, brandishing his enormous cock in all its glory. She was instantly smitten by his merchandise and could not keep herself from violently blushing as she gaped at it. "Oh, wow..." she said with a fluttering voice. "You're... enormous."
"I know ya never seen one dis big" he asserted. "Why don't ya get a betta look?"
