To the Reader: I've labeled the parts of these horrid adventures of Lazdric the Gnomish Warlock so that you can easily browse between non-filthy text and story and pulse pounding, pole-greasing sex. You will easily find all the naughty bits of our story clearly labeled for your masturbatory pleasure. Enjoy!
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Lazdric was a rather evil little Gnome. Wily to the bone and thrice as cunning, he was a Warlock by trade, one of the rare few who dabble in demons and hells, controlling and binding creatures from the twisting nether to his nefarious will.
The Gnome was a rather short fellow, as Gnomes had a tendency to be, hovering around the 4 foot mark, dressed in robes colored deep royal red and deep grey, with intricate and striking patterns stitched in. His hair was as black as his heart, and his eyes shone an eerie and all too bright green. Long ago he had gained a remarkably striking allure, which he earned from his long servitude to the lords of the hells below, and he was unnervingly perfect of appearance. A small bit of pointed black hair decorated his chin, giving him a suave sort of style, and his impeccable fashion sense made him a shockingly attractive little Gnome.
This hadn't always been the case, however, dear reader, for Lazdric was once uglier than a Troll's myspace page, with a large and clumsy nose and stringy, lackluster hair. But what he lacked for looks he more than made up for with brains, and it had occurred to him early in life that nice guys certainly finish last, and ugly nice guys rarely even were admitted to the starting line. Thus, he searched for ways to power where his superior intellect could net him some profit, and he found his calling in the arts of the Warlock.
I'll let you in on a little secret, dear reader-The beings of the Twisting Nether (That's hell to us Earthling types) are just dying to infect our world with some nastiness. There isn't an Imp alive that wouldn't love to smash through an orphanage or scorch a newborn. The thing of it is, these beings are trapped from entering the world of Azeroth. Warlocks are servants of these beings, and find loopholes in this rule, allowing the Demons and bad peoples of the twisting nether to assert their slimy grip on some of the goings on of the world. For their service, these bold men and women are granted startling powers.
And naturally, Lazdric wanted all sorts of power.
When he left Ironforge, Lazdric was poor, ugly, and determined to return to his home a new Gnome. Five years later, through his diligent study and tireless devotion to serving the demons of the Twisted Nether, he had gained multiple benefits of service.
The first was his looks. Long gone was the dumpy Gnome and reborn was a suave, sleek Warlock bent on revenging past wrongs. Next came money and personal wealth. Lazdric was besieged with luxury, and his coffers overflowed with more gold than an oriental gold farmer.
It was with great pleasure that Lazdric proudly rode his jet black nightmare steed towards the massive fortress of Ironforge-home of the Dwarves and the refuge Gnomes (Whose own home was destroyed by a terrible nuclear incident, but that is a story for another time altogether). The frightening horse had eyes like burning embers, and its hooves radiated with a chilling heat, leaving smoldering prints in the ice-glazed ground. Lazdric stopped his steed, looking with grim determination at the towering main gates.
"Master! We are here! Is this not the place that you suffered in? This is not the Ironforge of your past?" Nordu was the emphatic and spirited Imp that often accompanied the Gnome on his adventures. Small, green, horned, and slightly problematic when it came to starting fires, he was one of Lazdric's cadre of demonic servants.
"Yes, Nordu. Here is the place where I grew up. My memories here are vast and unsettling. Turned down by women of all races and types, I left here a desperate and grotesque youth. Now I return a bitter yet successful Warlock." He smiled, green eyes flashing brightly. "Let's go meet some old friends..."
Years ago Lazdric our dark anti-hero would stare in astonishment at the lovely Gnomish Inventor's apprentice Jacy as she toiled and tinkered in her father's workshop. Never having the courage or belief in himself to ask her on a date, Lazdric could do little but dream about the day when he could come and woo her. Now, armed with so many dark gifts, he was certain ready to finally claim her as his.
Walking into the Tinker's workshop, he saw her, bent over the hood of some impressive steam engine. He strode with confidence towards her, clearing his throat, taking full view of her supple, round Gnomish ass as it wiggled here and there. She was always obscene with her dress, sporting the same cut off jean shorts that he had stroked off to countless times in the privacy of him home. Her legs were plump and shapely, ending in non-descript, scuffed work boots.