[pre-story] Hey there, squish here, with the continuation of Rhuno's adventures across Azeroth! The story, and the chapter, chosen by my faithful patrons! This installment takes our hero to a remote corner of The Blasted Lands. This one's takes off a little slow, I really wanted to get some character development in there, and it ended up taking more space than I thought it would. Hopefully, it was worth it in the end! Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: All characters are 18 or older.
Content Warnings: Huge cocks, excessive cum, impregnation, cumflation, and furries.[/pre-story]
Chapter 2: A Hero's Reward
Tonight, like every night in recent memory, a tense quiet hung over the Howling Drunk Inn. The few patrons, a selection of the town's old, infirm, and cowardly, sat in humbled silence, nursing mugs of porter as the night dragged on interminably. Donna Berrymore, the innkeeper, stood behind the bar, mechanically re-washing the unused mugs. She was a mature woman, with warm tan skin, raven-black hair, and a glare that could send even the most ornery drunk cringing out the door. The young barmaid, Becca, was the only one moving, pacing around the room, clearing away empty mugs, impatiently seeking something, anything to do to keep herself busy.
Becca was a petite, slender thing, just barely more than five feet tall. She had a cute, mousy sort of look to her, with soft features dotted with a handful of freckles, a cute little button nose, and large, chestnut-brown eyes. Jaw-length brown hair was tucked hurriedly out of the way behind her ears, a few stray locks curling forward to brush against her cheeks. Her uniform was typical of her job, an ankle-length brown dress that hung loosely off her admittedly average hips, a laced leather bodice that cinched her already slim waist even tighter, and a frilly top with a neckline that bared her shoulders and the modest cleavage of her firm, orange-sized breasts. She was practically the ideal barmaid, attractive in that girl-next-door way, but not distractingly eye-catching. She almost seemed to blend into the background when you weren't looking.
Becca was reaching for old man Jensen's empty mug when she realized he'd perked up in his seat, tilting his head toward the window, listening to something. One by one, the other patrons followed suit, brows furrowing in confusion, and then Becca heard it too. It was quiet and indistinct at first, but it grew louder and closer by the second, resolving into something the town hadn't heard in a quite a while. Singing. Raucous, off-key, out-of-tune singing. A dozen rough voices rolling over one-another as they sang with a kind of carefree joy that hadn't been heard in Surwich for months. The sound alone was immensely refreshing, even if it was terrible.
The song grew louder and louder, until the front door of the inn suddenly burst open. The militia poured into the inn, perhaps a dozen men and women, some human, some worgen, all exhausted and clad in mis-matched, rusty, dented armor smeared with mud and black, green, and crimson blood. But every single one of them was grinning triumphantly through the filth, even those bearing hastily-bandaged wounds, and they sang loud and proud. A man with a ratty top hat broke from the crowd lingering by the door, stepping forward, his hard beard split by an irrepressible grin. "Donna!" He called. "Ready a room an' open a tab, an' put it all on the mayor's dime! The Hero of Surwich drinks free tonight!" He half-shouted, half-laughed. The group behind him cheered, pausing in their singing just long enough to turn and usher an unseen figure forward.
The militia parted as a mountainous, shadowy figure suddenly filled the doorframe, so big it had to duck through, its horns scraping at the wood as it passed the threshold. When it straightened up again on the other side, it loomed over the crowd around it, easily eight feet tall, its square shoulders as broad as three men standing shoulder to shoulder. As it stood there on iron-shod hooves, long, pointed horns crowning its head, it looked almost like a demon. But there the similarities ended. The figure was covered head to toe in gleaming silvery armor, thick plates of metal trimmed with turquoise-studded gold. The thing's chestplate, gauntlets, and pauldrons all bore the same motif, a large golden sun-disk in the center, radiating thin rays of gold all the way out to the edges. On its back, it carried a massive circular shield, an inch-thick wall emblazoned with the same sun-disk, large enough for a man to stand behind it and be completely hidden. On its waist hung a wrist-thick scepter of silver inlaid with gold, crowned with a sphere of gold as big as a man's head, a mighty mace.
The figure shifted, its expression hidden beneath a silvery helm, and reached up with gauntleted hands. After a moment's fumbling with the clasp, the helmet's lower half swung free, and with one hand, the figure lifted the rest up and forward, revealing its face. Rhuno's coal-black brow furrowed slightly as her cast his gaze around the tavern, startlingly blue eyes assessing the situation, before settling on the innkeeper and offering her a respectful nod.
Donna didn't even acknowledge the look, turning to Devin with a sour expression, crossing her arms as her eyes narrowed. "A tauren? You brought a tauren into town, into my inn, and you want me to serve him drinks on the mayor's tab?" she demanded, shaking her head. "You must have gotten your bell rung pretty bloody hard if you think this is a good plan."
Devin shook his head, his smile never faltering. "If Archimonde 'imself 'ad done what this bloke did, I'd be buyin' 'im drinks just the same." he replied. "You shoulda seen it. There was a bloody army comin' outta the fog. Musta' been a hundred treants, with as many demons on top, an' a dozen of those 'shroom giants to boot. They were comin' on fast, an' I was ready to kiss my arse goodbye. Then there was a flash, bright as the sun, lit up the whole forest like a bolt a' lightin'. An' there 'e was..."
As Devin launched into his tale, the militia poured into the bar proper, filling up seats and ushering the guest of honor to take a seat by the fire. None of them noticed Becca, staring wide-eyed at the tauren as she clutched her serving tray to her chest like a shield.
---
"Now, I didn't remember any of that! So when I woke up with the protodrake licking my face, all I knew was that I was hanging upside down by the hooves, that I had a headache that could have killed a kodo, and that I was wearing nothing but a wooly rhino pelt and smeared with what I could only HOPE was mud! Killit was laughing so hard she nearly fell out of the saddle!" Rhuno recounted, laughing and gesturing wildly, the last of the porter in his mug sloshing as it swung through the air. Devin was doubled over the table, laughing so hard his eyes watered, clutching his stomach with one hand and pounding the tabletop with the other. Becca tittered quietly, a hand over her mouth. "THAT'S why I don't drink Sulfuron Slammers anymore, ESPECIALLY not with trolls." Rhuno added definitively, grinning as he raised his mug to his lips and drained it entirely.
As time and drink had flowed, Rhuno's armor had come away piece by piece, both literally and figuratively. The armored, serious, stoic warrior from hours ago now wore nothing but his under-armor as he casually shared tales of his travels with those militia members still conscious. Shimmering, lightweight frostweave, a brilliant shade of royal blue, was his only protection, the material hanging loosely over thick slabs of muscle as he drank and and chatted. His armor and weapons lay in a pile in the corner of the room behind him, his tossed aside along with his caution.
Devin shook his head as he managed to straighten up, gasping for breath and wiping the corners of his eyes as his laughter slowly tapered off to the occasional chortle. "Oh, light, that's a hell of a tale! I think that one deserves another drink!" He grinned, raising a hand and looking toward the bar. "Donna! Another mug for the hero! This one's on me!
Donna eyes the table for a moment, before casting her gaze around the room to survey the scene. Half the militia had already passed out, and the rest were getting quite close. "Alright, but this is last call, you lot!" She announced, firmly. A few moments later, a fresh mug was in front of Rhuno, Becca silently fading back out of the way. Rhuno smiled, glancing up, his eyes meeting hers for just a moment and giving her a nod of gratitude before turning back to the table. Her cheeks flushed as she lingered nearby, close enough to listen in.
Devin shook his head again, still chuckling. "Well, I s'pose that's my cue." he commented, planting his hands on the table and pushing himself to his feet. "I best stumble home before tonight becomes another story." he grinned, nudging one of the unconscious warriors beside him. A murmur of agreement rolled through the remainder of the militia and some of the other patrons. After offering some final gratitude to the hero of the night, they collectively staggered out the door, carrying their fallen brethren out into the night on unsteady legs. Before Rhuno was even finished with his mug, the inn was all but empty. He sighed, swirling the last of the porter around the mug before knocking it back. It just wasn't as good without company.
"Um... Sir?" Came a small, feminine voice. Rhuno glanced over, eyes settling once again on the petite human girl that had been serving his drinks all night. Becca's gaze shifted side to side, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her serving tray as she held it in front of her. "The- the bar is closed after last call... But, if- if you'd like, I could, um, get you something to eat. If you're hungry, I mean." She managed to offer, even as she wilted under his gaze, her feet carrying her backward in short, mincing steps.
Rhuno shook his head. "Oh, that's not necessary, no need to wake the cook for me, I've got provisions..."
Becca's expression lit up as she stepped forward once again. "Oh, no, I can do it! I help in the kitchen all the time, it's no trouble at all!" she explained. Her cheeks suddenly flushed as her own boldness sank in, and she began to mince backwards again, averting her gaze. "I mean, um, if you wanted... It- it's the least I could do... to, you know... thank you..." she finally managed, the serving tray coming up like a shield again.
