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| brokenheroes8 by Creexuls, a monster >:3 08/26/2008, 9:45am PDT | ||||
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| (Hijinx ensue, I wouldn't bother reading these anyway if I were you, LAWL.)
[b]Broken Heroes on a Last Chance Power Drive, chapter 8 Gotta Move Out 'Cause the City's Moving In [m tauren/whoever, poor Moog, spanking, biased portrayal of night elves, slight diplomacy, some violence, usual fourth wall such and such, really really long][/b] "It was awful, ya, they held me captive an' mind controlled me, there were at least twenty of them! Or thirty!" Ganu stood before Thrall, who was brought all the way out to Splintertree to get the story from Ganu on just what happened with all these night elves and kidnappings. Thrall knew night elves were weird, but an open attack like this actually worried him. "And let me guess," Thrall said, "they forced you to copulate with them?" "Ah... I wasn't gwan mention that, but ya." Ganu brushed his toe against the dirt bashfully (aw). Thrall sighed. Being the warchief was hard. Nobody knows the trouble he's seen. Stuff like that. "I guess it's not much surprise; we tried the same thing with one of their own." "An' they succeed where we din', s'a shame." Thrall dismissed Ganu, partially because he was just tired of that accent. Most importantly, Thrall had to think. Would the alliance actually know that this was happening? He entertained the notion of meeting with alliance diplomats, but it just seemed like nothing would come of it. Still... "Who can even say what horrors that tauren is being subjected to at the hands of the night elves," Thrall thought to himself. He had some idea of course. At this time in Darnassus, Lorgrah laid in a tent somewhere near the outer barrier of the country. Her body was bruised almost all over after taking a constant beating at the waterfall just to get her subdued for the trip, and then more beatings to keep her under control on the ship to Darnassus. One of her eyes was swollen and bruised shut, and with her good eye she was looking at the corpse of a night elf in front of her, Lorgrah having just snapped her neck with a few brutal kicks and a leg hold. This is how she had reacted to most of the night elves who entered her tent thinking they could get some sort of sadistic glee from beating her around. She knew this would only incite more violence from her guards, and she didn't care. She was a horde warrior and this was what she did. She hated the night elves just as much as they hated her. A couple of male night elf guards looked into the tent and saw yet another dead comrade, with their orc captive half glaring at them. The guards chattered to each other in their language, agreeing to go in and take care of this orc. They had orders not to kill her, so they agreed they would try their best not to. Minutes later, Senea was going through the area. She was thinking of seeing Moog again for herself, if she could work up the nerve. She heard a commotion from the nearby tent where she knew Moog's lover was being held, and looked in to investigate. "Stop this already!" she yelled to the guards, who were busy kicking Lorgrah as she lay on the ground. One of the guards sneered. "I don't think you're in command of us." "I have Tyrande's ear and that's good enough for you, now both of you get out," Senea said with enough conviction to convince them. The guards huffed but left. Senea kneeled to the orc woman. She had been bandaged so many times earlier, the bandages always being torn off by anyone who happened to pay Lorgrah a visit, then reapplied and torn off again. Senea could see the lines on her skin where the bandages were pulled, and a mess of bruises and cuts. Senea couldn't help losing her taste for the brutality that was being laid on their captives, and reached for a roll of bandages. "I'm sorry for this," she spoke to Lorgrah in orcish. "I wish I could keep them from doing this to you." Lorgrah's response was to just stare. She didn't have much to say or think about this, and wasn't sure if this woman was serious, but for now she took comfort in the help with healing her wounds. "May I ask your name?" Senea asked. Lorgrah said nothing for a while, and gave a puzzled look as response. "That is fine, I suppose," Senea said quietly. For now she would just focus on this orc woman being attended to instead of being abused. At this time, Moog was being carried, bound by his wrists and ankles, to a crude flat cart that was built just to keep him tied to it, and of course he was completely naked because the women refused to give him any clothing. He was being carried into the city, up to the capital. Everywhere he looked he saw stares, a few women laughing and pointing. He was pulled up an incline and into a large tower which he knew had to be the capital building. There were pools on the inside and ramps to higher levels, strange luminescent plants growing in the central area and snaking up the stone paths and walls, possibly to the top, Moog couldn't see. Soon he was abandoned in the central area, within a shallow pond of water. Some stern words were spoken in the elven language and soon the building began to empty, the women leaving, and the very last one closing the gate. Moog tried looking around, and saw there was not a single person left inside, and yet he knew he wasn't alone. He heard one woman breathing very faintly, but somewhat hard, the sound echoing off every wall. "Hello?" he said in orcish, even though he knew it wouldn't be understood. Suddenly, directly in his ear, an aroused whisper, so close he could feel the breath on his face. "I am here," the woman said. He knew it was Tyrande. Moog stammered, thinking up all the rhetorical questions he could, and saying any number of them all mashed together in random halves of words and phrases, mostly involving what and why. He already knew all of the answers, and he knew how this was going to end. For reasons Moog couldn't even begin to understand, Tyrande stared into his eyes, and then looked down at his body, running just the tip of her tongue along his arms, and further down to his waist, then down his legs. She looked back up at him and grinned some strange grin, then grabbed the ropes restraining his wrists and ankles and pulled them right off, tearing through the rope with whatever source of strength she had, the ropes breaking with a loud snap. Even with Moog completely free to move now, he still laid there perfectly still, unsure of what to do. Tyrande looked into his eyes again. When he looked at her, he wasn't sure what she was thinking. She had the look of no fear or inhibitions, and at the same time Moog couldn't help but to sense a sort of giddy ditziness from her, as if she was more taken with the thrill of the moment than what her supposed master plan with him was. Moog's thoughts were interrupted when she gave a powerful shove, throwing him from the cart and into the water. He looked up at her and saw she was carrying a brush, and dressed in only a very light gown, almost transparent. "It is time for a bath," and then she said a word in her language that Moog recognized many times earlier from the other women, they kept saying it around him. "What?" he asked in a fading voice. "Dirty cow," she replied in orcish, grinning. She walked to him and dipped the brush in the water at her feet, then kneeled and began to scrub Moog's chest lightly, as if she was caring for a friend. Moog gulped, not understanding or knowing the nature of this gesture. She simply continued to scrub his chest and arms, moving the brush to his legs, occasionally dipping the brush into the water again. As she brushed down his legs, her other hand moved to his crotch, picking up his cow cock with one hand and looking at it as if admiring it, the craftsmanship or something. She continued brushing with one hand and holding his member in the other, muttering filthy observations to herself. Moog was able to recognize the word "big" a few times. Eventually, as if for his benefit, she started speaking in Orcish and even Taurahe, "It's so big, I sometimes wonder how you walk with this giant thing in between your legs." Moog shuddered, his hooves tapping against the stone floor and splashing through the water. Out of all the things he didn't like, what he hated the most was how good this felt. A twitch ran through his legs as if blood was being taken out of circulation, and he knew just where it was going. A hard twitch and his cock stiffened in Tyrande's hand. She looked up at him and gave him what was probably the most frightening gleeful grin he had ever seen, and he had seen quite a few. "It's so huge," she whispered in orcish, running a hand over it, the pretense of the brush already forgotten as she dropped it and worked Moog's shaft with both hands, feeling it stiffen. "Is walking difficult with this giant thing?" she asked teasingly. Moog rolled his eyes. Holding Moog's taurenhood in both hands, she pressed her tongue against his balls and ran the tongue up his shaft to the tip, moaning one long "ahhn" the entire distance. She played with the very end of his cock by brushing the tip of her tongue against it, then giggled and said, "something this huge could never fit in my mouth." "Oh, would you [i]shut up[/i] already?" Moog snapped at her. "I am not some toy of yours!" His anger had finally boiled over, after being kidnapped and used repeatedly by almost every woman he seemed to run across, the way they spoke down to him, and the way they forced arousal from him just to use it and discard him. The idea itself always seemed like it should be fun on paper, but in practice it was quite degrading. When he saw the look on Tyrande's face he realized he probably should've kept quiet and accepted this treatment. She seethed audibly, hissing at him. He felt queasy looking at her, and he felt sure that she wanted to kill him right there. "Uh, never mind...?" Moog said, trying to give her his best innocent look. In almost no time, Tyrande was tying a rope around his wrists, throwing it over an overhead pole connecting a few of the pillars, and pulling, lifting Moog into the air by his hands, forcing him on his hooves. Tyrande bitterly cursed him and his race, saying that "dirty cow" word again as some kind of crutch slur as she hoisted him, tied the rope off to a pillar, and then approached him. "You need a spanking, dirty cow," she half hissed and half giggled. Moog gulped. He missed Lorgrah, and he wanted to be home. He felt like an idiot for inciting this in the first place, and he regretted trying to stand up for himself if it only caused trouble for him. And now apparently Tyrande Whisperwind was going to punish him. Moog just didn't understand what was happening anymore. Lorgrah sat in the tent, with Senea and Shanida, who had visited for reasons perhaps none of them could understand, but the elf couple knew they had some pity not only for their captured orc but for Moog as well. They brought food for her to eat, and tried to start conversation with her, but Lorgrah refused to speak to them, instead grumbling quietly and accepting their food. Shanida couldn't deny what she felt anymore, and left the tent for a second, asking the guards to leave them. She came back in and spoke to Senea in her language, gesturing to Lorgrah. Senea looked down as if to think for a second, but she realized she already knew what she thought of what her partner said, and then spoke to Lorgrah. "We want to help you escape," Senea said in orcish. This got Lorgrah's attention. "How would we do this?" Lorgrah said, the first time she ever spoke a sentence since her kidnapping that wasn't some kind of curse directed at the night elves. Senea and Shanida talked to each other for a minute before Senea answered, "Well, we don't know yet, but we'll try to figure something out." Lorgrah couldn't help thinking of Moog, she didn't want to ever leave without him. "I can't leave without Moog," she told them, "we would have to find a way for both of us to escape." There was more arguing between Senea and Shanida. In the end it was decided, and Senea said to Lorgrah, "Just know, there might not be any way to escape." "Then we will try to find one anyway," Lorgrah said in a hushed voice. The three women nodded. Lorgrah thought she should still be wary of their trust, but at the same time could not fully doubt them. If she was already captured, there would be no point in the night elves trying to fool her into an escape plan. "Thank you. My name is Lorgrah," she spoke quietly to the night elf women, who smiled to her in response. In Stormwind City, an orc man in a white robe, carrying a blank white banner approached the main bridge at the face of the city, and aside him walked Thrall, two of his personal guards, and Ganu, who was right now being forced to walk among the alliance without stealthing. That was definitely a strange feeling for a rogue. A man in bright white armor rode up to them and stopped. "I am General Marcus Jonathan, and I recognize you Thrall. I suppose I don't have to tell you to behave while you are here, but you are granted permission into Stormwind." After a quick translation from the orc in white, they followed Marcus Jonathan into the city. Aside from all the staring, the city seemed to accept the horde group peacefully, and they followed over the small bridges to meet in the alliance council chamber within the main castle structure, a giant white brick building that towered over the rest of the city. Thrall had to admit he was a little envious of the size of the city, and how they managed to make everything look so clean. At the same time, he preferred the architecture of Orgrimmar. That's just what he thought anyway. The council chamber was a somewhat small room with one round table, five ambassadors from the five alliance races already seated, having been expecting Thrall's entourage after the word had been passed to the alliance that he wanted to meet with them. Thrall looked to the seats on his side, gave a slightly nervous glance around the room, and then sat down awkwardly. He nodded to his translator, who nodded in response. The translator spoke without any pretense of formality or pleasantry. "We are here to discuss some recent incidents involving the night elves and their capturing of our people." A gnome man with balding gray hair held a quill in his hand as if to write notes on the meeting, and asked, "Where is it that you claim this happened?" "We [i]observed[/i] this in Astranaar," Thrall said in response to the translation. The response from the alliance side was a lot of mumbling between each other. The dwarf ambassador, a red-haired woman, pointedly asked her night elf counterpart if this was true, denials were made, and soon arguing broke out. Why would the horde be here if it wasn't true; the horde is surely trying some new ploy to fool them for some reason; they want to discredit the night elves because they want Ashenvale to themselves, and so on like that. The night elf ambassador, a somewhat coy woman, said she would send word to Darnassus to ask if any of this could be corroborated, and that Thrall could be their guest in the city until that time. "Tell them that I thank them but I will stay in Stonard for now," Thrall said to his translator and prepared to leave. He didn't like having to discuss anything with the alliance, and was more than sure that nothing would get done. At the same time, he felt his hands tied at making a major move against the night elves, at least not without making sure the alliance would know why. Meanwhile, the alliance representatives suspected Thrall was hinting at a military action against Darnassus, but weren't sure why he would even give them any clue as to him planning that. Many arguments were had behind closed doors in Stormwind that night, as Thrall and his group left for Stonard. On the walk between the territories, Ganu looked over both shoulders several times a minute. "They din' cut our throats, dat nice of 'em." "We definitely gave them every chance," Thrall grumbled. The translator chuckled nervously and then asked, "You... don't suppose we'd have to go back in there do you?" The sun set in Darnassus. Moog's eyes opened wearily, and he realized he had still been hanging by his hands, his arms stiff and sore, but not nearly as his butt was sore. Tyrande had spent the better part of the day actually spanking him, and not as some metaphor for punshing him, but really spanking him with her bare hand. It didn't hurt that much until after an hour, then he started to get a little tender, prompting him to try to block Tyrande's hand with his tail, and then she had to hold his tail with one hand and lay into him with the other, until he was whimpering with each strike, and sure enough she continued for another hour easily, switching hands when they got sore. Moog just could not understand this, except that Tyrande apparently enjoyed it. He knew she enjoyed it because afterwords she picked up where she left off in pleasing him. Even hours later, his legs were still matted with dried cum, causing his fur to stick out in sharp edges, and the pool at his hooves dirty and mixed in a giant blast. He shuddered lightly as he saw her approach him again, her hands bandaged and her face still shining a little from the glaze of semen he had given her much earlier, which she tried her best to wash off. She stepped in front of him and picked up his flaccid cock with one hand. "Now... tell me cow, is this big or what?" Moog's lip quivered, and he stammered out a "yes," before bursting out in tears. Tyrande gave him a puzzled look, and she was quite frankly a little turned off. What kind of tauren was this? "What's wrong with you, cow?" she asked in an almost borderline sympathetic voice, but poor Moog could only respond in sobs. Tyrande almost felt concern, and for perhaps the first time in her life she felt shame. She believed in what she was doing, and knew in the end it would be for the better of her people and perhaps all of the alliance, but she knew it was wrong. She knew it was wrong, and she thought to herself that it would have to be her burden to bear, because in the end it would be worth it. She walked to the end of the rope tied around the pillar, loosened it and let Moog to the ground, as he tried to quiet his sad tauren crying to slight whimpers. She walked to him and ran a hand down his arm as if to comfort him, and then tied his ankles with the rest of the rope. She knew better ways to please him, but perhaps once he got all that moo cow sobbing out of his system she would be able to handle it better. She would give him one minute. As soon as Moog's crying subsided a little, she eagerly mounted him, figuring he would be over it enough for her to get a good hard ride out of him. She had been waiting to have this tauren to herself for days now and it was time to sate her urge. Moog sniffled one last time and surrendered himself to her will. He could see the starved look in her eyes, and he felt the moist wetness of her crotch against him, and he knew there would be no stopping her. She reached underneath her and grabbed Moog's still flaccid cock, immediately pushing it into her pussy, not waiting for it to get hard first. She started to ride Moog already, trying to get him charged, her soft hole massaging him up and down, but there was no effect, Moog just laid there like a cold fish. Tyrande knew she was just going to have to cheat. She laid her hands against his chest, rubbing the fur, and this only made Moog think she was trying to feel more intimate with him or something, he wasn't sure what she was thinking. After a few seconds of concentration, Tyrande glowed with magic and she focused it into Moog's body through her hands. Moog gasped loudly, feeling his heart suddenly beating so hard it seemed as if it was trying to punch its way out of his chest. He felt lightheaded, as if his blood flow was being diverted downwards away from his brain, and sure enough his cock throbbed hard and started to harden against his will. He always hated this. He got married so that he wouldn't have to have women force him to have sex, and even when they had drained him they figured out some way around it. It wasn't fair to him and was always pretty inconsiderate of his feelings. His cock grew and stretched Tyrande from the inside, who responded by looking at him in wide-eyed shock as if it was his fault. Together they gasped and moaned, Tyrande in a twisted pleasure, and Moog in dismay and abuse. Tyrande splattered wetness from her vagina as she forced Moog to slam it, riding his cock up and down, feeling it continue to grow and ruin her as a night elf, defiling her body at her will. She groaned loudly in some kind of feral growl. Her legs twitched and shuddered, she arched her back, shut her eyes tightly, grit her teeth, and climaxed once immediately, crying out in a strained yelp. Instead of calming herself or basking in the sensation, she only continued to thrust her tauren captive into her faster and harder, pounding herself, giggling and grunting as she saw Moog's look of confusion and slight concern. She thrust her hands against his chest again, and Moog felt a strong shock run through his body, and suddenly he burned all over, as if Tyrande's pleasure was forced into him and they were bound by sensation through whatever insane magic she was forcing on him. She orgasmed again as she continued to slam onto him, and this time he felt it and hard. Then they orgasmed again, and again, within seconds, before Moog could even ejaculate he was being forced into some sort of bizarre multilayering of orgasms from Tyrande Whisperwind herself, the leader of the night elf race. If Moog could even comprehend the situation at this point, it would probably distract him enough from being able to enjoy this, but his thoughts were buried under the sensation that was being forced on him. Tyrande worked one more spell, clearly a spell that was not canon, deep into Moog, and he felt a rumbling throughout his entire body as it shook hard. In the next moment, the both of them tensed up hard, every muscle seizing, and suddenly a bolt of some kind of chaotic energy exploded from their bodies, sending bolts of what looked like a hazy blue lightning shooting everywhere, burning the walls, cracking a few of the pillars, smashing cracks into the tower's structure. The ground rumbled, and the ocean around Darnassus roared as waves rose and threatened to flood the areas outside. Moog and Tyrande's bodies glowed a white hot blue spark of pure electricity, as both were essentially fried in the giant blast of magic, Moog being held just off the ground as the energy ran through them. In the next second, the energy disappeared completely, and both of them were driven blind by the sudden lack of light in the tower. Moog felt a gush, and his cock expanded wider one last time as his cum rushed up and exploded into Tyrande, firing her off of him and sending her flying, slamming her into a wall hard enough to embed in it, suspended upside down, facing out, and completely drenched in a big splatter of tauren cum. Tyrande groaned, working up the urge to start breathing again. She didn't know if this hurt or not because all of her nerve sensations had been fried. She winced and tried pulling her arm out from the wall. A few pebbles cracked away and fell off as she pulled free, falling a few feet to the ground again, leaving another wet splatter of cum on the ground where she landed. She crawled painfully slow back to the middle of the room, and looked up at the damage done. The tower looked like it was halfway destroyed at this point. She laughed to herself. Wearily standing to her feet, she staggered towards Moog, and in a hoarse whisper said to him, "Lover, you were incredible." She gave him a weak smile and left towards the door, her strength gradually returning to her legs. She looked back one time at Moog who was still getting his breath back. A large body like his would probably have more trouble regaining composure, she thought. Not that this mattered to her. She basked in the satisfaction, knowing that her plan would indeed work, and might not even kill the tauren in the process. She shuddered with glee, imaginging what this kind of power could do for the people of Darnassus, and even the land itself, when properly charged. She turned back to the door. As Tyrande left the tower, she saw a giant line of night elf women who were entering the city, milling around and smiling at her. A few of the new visitors were curious about the liquid elementals that were wandering the lands passively, they were a kind of off white and dripping some sort of slimy goo. Tyrande approached the visiting throngs of fellow night elves and greeted them warmly. Her call to the night elves of the world had been answered, as the great mass of them joined her in their homeland. Just as Tyrande was reading herself to gladhand a whole many of the night elf pilgrims, a female druid approached her, escorted by Nalli, who had a sneer on her face. "This druid wants to speak to you about your plans, my lady," Nalli said with some disdain. "May we speak about this in private?" the druid said with some nervousness. "No, say what you will here and now," Tyrande responded. "Well, we had been studying the possibilities of flooding Darnassus with that much of the tauren's... fluid, but we aren't sure that the effects you intend will happen as you plan. There is a very high potential for a disaster that could endanger this entire land. I am sorry, but we felt compelled to warn you of this." "And who is 'we,' sister druid?" Tyrande asked calmly. "Well, Norani and I, and Roand," the druid responded obediently. Tyrande nodded to Nalli, who did not hesitate to thrust a dagger into the back of the druid's neck, cutting right through the brain stem. The woman's eyes went dead immediately, and she fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound. Nalli smiled. "You have the names, but get rid of this one first," Tyrande instructed, before walking to meet the rest of the visiting night elves, most of the witnesses having only mild concern over what they saw. In the distance, where Shanida stood, watching and knowing that some dissenting druids were to approach Tyrande and warn her of the possible dangers. Shanida's heart sank. In a way she was expecting this, and yet she had a shred of hope that Tyrande would at least consider what she was told. That hope was gone. Nalli nodded to Tyrande, then she snapped to attention, "Oh yes, I just remembered, someone from the Stormwind ambassador's council was sent to ask you if you knew anything about a kidnapped tauren and orc, it seems that Thrall had gone to Stormwind himself inquiring about it," Nalli smiled. Tyrande grinned back, "I'm afraid I know nothing about that. Dismissed." Thrall was awakened by an orc soldier, asking "Warchief, are you awake?" "I am now, do we have word yet?" he grumbled sleepily. That's kinda cute. "The night elves claim to know nothing about the kidnapping, they're denying it even happened." Thrall growled. "Night elves," was all he could think of to say in response. "We... also have a visitor for you," the guard informed. A dwarf woman with red hair entered, and Thrall immediately recognized her as the ambassador. She spoke in a heavily dwarven accented orcish. "Ach, night elves indeed." Thrall gave her a puzzled look, but then realized there would only be one reason she would meet with him personally in Stonard of all places. "You don't trust them either?" "Not menneh trust the elf races at all," she replied with a very slight smirk. The implication of the blood elves being in the horde was kind of missed by Thrall, as he was still groggy, so she made it plain to him, "You don't trust them blah-elves fully, aye?" Thrall rubbed one of his eyes. "Well, dwarf woman, what do--" "Callaigh," she interrupted. "Cal... eye?" Let's not even go into how the word for "eye" in orcish wouldn't be eye anyway. "Well," Thrall continued, "what would you say we should do about this? I have no proof that our hostages are in Darnassus, or if the night elves are doing anything with them." She smirked again. "I've already had many visitors to Darnassus tell me thar's strangeness going on all over there, lots of night elves from all over stopping everything and picking up for a visit. Stranger creatures wander the city, stuff no one's seen before. I think they are up to something that could be dangerous, not just to the horde. Tyrande's always had a bit of a screw loose." Thrall smiled. It was much more than just a cold comfort to find an ally among his enemies. "You know, this could mean war with the night elves." Callaigh crossed her arms and laughed. "The night elves could mean war with [i]us[/i]." |
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