The Void War, a warcraft fanfic

The Void War

A World of Warcraft Story

By Sandra Hermans and Bill Williams

Chapter One: Encounters

Orgrimmar was busy as always - too busy for the tastes of one of her many visitors. The Troll male sat quietly outside the Auction House in the Valley of Honor, watching the people of the Horde come and go. By his side, a large and battle-scarred Bloodscale Raptor was curled up and sleeping in the warm Durotar sun. His Hearthstone began to 'buzz' and he took it out of his pack. "... 'Ello?"

"Papa!" shouted a pleasant and eager voice from the stone. "I caught a new pet, Papa! My Elfie friend 'Nara said she looks like me."

"Oh? Ya have a Blood Elf as a friend? Well ya will hafta let me meet her ..." he said, chuckling faintly. "I hate ta go... but da sun be gettin' hot and it be too busy and loud ta have a nice talk wit ya. I'll see ya around tho. Meantimes, stay oudda trouble, dotter."

"I don' make no trouble Papa, you know dat."

The Troll sighed. He knew better; she was too eager to please, and in her enthusiasm often tripped over little things – such as protocol, for example. "I know, dotter, I know. Well, I gots ta go now before it gets any hotter."

"Okay!" From her tone of voice, it was all too easy to visualize a young Troll girl bouncing up-and-down excitedly. "Bye Papa!"

"Bye, dotter." The hearthstone grew silent once more. He placed it back in his pack before standing. "Oy, but this heat makes me thirsty," he said to himself. "A good ale will fix that," he thought. "It'll fix 'bout anyting – except dat Hellscream." He sighed heavily. "Ah, if only …"

Skanara Bloodwalker stepped through the portal from the Outlands and walked confidently into the Cleft of Shadow (which she had nicknamed "under-Org"). Her dark red hair was ratty; she was lightly dotted and covered in a mix of dry sweat, light blood spatters, a few irregular reddish-brown smears, and other fluids so varied that she could not name them all. She smelled faintly of smoke and had a few soot smudges on her cheeks and brow. In short, she looked like a wreck.

The recent campaign against the void demons in the Twisted Nether had nearly exhausted her, but she was determined to at least file her report with Sauranok (Garosh Hellscream's trusted advisor) before she collapsed for the night. She could always trust Innkeeper Nufa to have warm food, cold ale, a comfortable bed, a clean set of clothes, and a warm welcome.

The void demons, she reflected, had become a serious problem of late. For some reason they had become highly agitated and attempted an incursion into the Legion Front portal. Even her loyal demon, Daxithion, had spoken to them in Eredun, trying to get them to peacefully retreat, but it had been an epic failure. The Void Legions were all but decimated after six days of brutal fighting; the Horde contingent she had commanded had not fared much better. The entire situation was a disaster.

Something – or someone – was agitating them, perhaps even Dimensius himself. The bastard never seemed to tire of attempting to dominate all of Azeroth, but in the end he and his legion of void demons were usually nothing more than an annoying inconvenience. For her part, Skanara doubted it was Dimensius; the incursion was too strong and violent for the typical Dimensius power play. Someone else was behind this. She was certain of it.

Skanara's mind wandered to the thoughts of a nice, hot bath, a mug of the innkeeper's best mead, a hot meal, and at least 14 hours' sleep. She knew she wouldn't get more than 6, but by now she was used to it.

As she walked into the Inn, Skanara greeted her favorite Innkeeper as always. "Ho, Nufa!"

"Skanara, my dear," replied Nufa, smiling, "always so good to see you. Should I welcome you or call a healer?" Nufa often seemed like a worrying sister; her Inn was more to Skanara than a place to get a hot bath, hot meal, a drink, and a bed. The innkeeper didn't even miss a beat as she watched a hell-ravaged Skanara wander in the door. She'd seen it all before: the blood, the dirt, the matted hair, the torn clothing. Nufa never asked into Skanara's affairs – but she knew whatever it was, it was very dangerous and was always relieved when she came back.

"I'm fine, Nufa, except for being …" Skanara paused.

"An unholy mess?" asked Nufa. "Regardless, I thank the Eternals you've returned safe and sound. Will you be wanting the usual, then?" asked Nufa.

Skanara smiled. "Yes, please. Whatever's ready."

"I've got some nice Sunstrider stew on the hearth. How does that sound?"

"Excellent, Nufa," replied Skanara, her mouth already starting to water a bit at the thought. She could always count on Nufa's cooking. "I'll get a bath and be right out!"

Standing, the Troll woke his pet and headed for a nearby inn. The little Orcish innkeeper was a friendly woman, and he was looking forward to having some of her cooking. Try as he might, he wasn't much of a chef. He walked in, leaned easily on the bar and relaxed a bit. "Oy, but it be nice and cool indoors …" He sighed, looking at the bartender. "...'Ey Gravy... De usual mon."

"Sure ting brodda!" the red-headed Troll said, filling a mug until the froth from the drink inside threatened to spill over. "Ya been okay? I haven't seen ya in a while..."

He chuckled and they began talking in earnest as he started on his drink.

They were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps and a swish of clothing. "Gravy, while you were restocking the bar we got a customer," said Nufa from behind the drinking Troll. She was perfectly comfortable speaking her mind even with this particular Troll customer at the bar: he was a regular and had known Nufa and Gravy so long they were almost family. "Now behave yourself," she hissed sternly.

"Oy, Nufa, dat hurt!" Gravy looked crestfallen. "I always be on mah best behavior." "Ya, sure," thought the Troll customer snidely. "Just like my dotter."

She leaned closer to him. "Bullshit," she whispered in Gravy's ear. "Now promise me you'll behave yourself." Gravy looked at her blankly before he realized the look on Nufa's face meant business.

"Okay, Nufa, okay. " Gravy was all conciliation now. "I be good."

The other Troll took a long pull on his ale as the innkeeper walked away. "She know you, mon," he grinned at Gravy.

In the rear of Nufa's Inn was a bath cut out of the rock walls of Durotar itself. Unlike most inns, with their communal bathing pools, Nufa's Inn boasted a private shower where guests could go to bathe. The warm red colors of the room reminded Skanara simultaneously of the rising red glow of morning – or the dying embers of the day's light. Skanara hummed quietly to herself as she toweled dry. The hot shower had washed off the grime, oil, light traces of blood (not hers), and the smell of battle. Now, she fought another kind of battle as she pushed away the growing feeling of lassitude and began to put on a fresh set of clothes that Nufa had thoughtfully laid out for her. "Good thing I decided to keep my wardrobe here," she thought. "And, praise the eternals, Nufa always takes care of me." With that she remembered the hot stew awaiting her. She quickly finished dressing; her stomach had begun to growl at her: it was time for that Sunstrider stew and a nice glass of ale. Pulling on her boots, she strode to the small bar/dining area at the front of the Inn.

The Troll looked on silently as a Blood Elf walked out of the bathing area in the back. "Mm... I like what I be seein' mon..." he said enthusiastically but quietly, taking another sip of his drink. "Tch... What ya be tinkin'...? Ya be too old ta be tinkin' like dat..." he scolded himself.

"I donno mon... She's sure a pretty leetle Elfie." Gravy drawled slowly – and at a regrettably more audible volume.

"Gravy -" he warned, trying to shut his friend up before he made trouble.

Too late.

"Ah mean, lookit da way she move!" Gravy said more loudly and enthusiastically. "Ah bet ya wouldn' mind showin' her a good time..." the barkeep continued, laughing and nudging him with an elbow.

Skanara stopped instantly in her tracks. The gently encroaching feeling of comfortable lassitude was completely gone, replaced with a growing fire in the pit of her stomach. After a moment she turned, walked to the bar, and stood directly in front of Gravy.

"You dared call me 'Elfie'?" she accused hotly, deadly menace clear in her voice. "You stupid Troll! Don't you get it yet?" She suddenly lunged across the bar, grabbed Gravy by the back of his head, and slammed his face into the countertop. Hard.

The Troll customer knew that Nufa had seen and heard it all – and saw that she made no move to intervene. "I wonda," thought the Troll as he took a sip from his drink. "Someting ain't right here."

He wasn't going to intervene, either. This was his friend's problem and he'd seen variations of it before. Besides, it was going to be fun to watch Gravy try to get out of the hole he'd just dug for himself. In fact, it already was. He was sorely tempted to throw Gravy a figurative shovel, but he knew it would be unfair. Gravy already had a great collection of "shovels," and as usual he'd already started digging himself a deeper hole without any help at all. He grinned widely, set down his glass, and settled in to watch the rest of the show.

Gravy slowly lifted his head from the countertop, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his face. "Elfie! It's good to see you again, mon!"

Skanara lunged across the counter and slammed Gravy's face into the countertop – again. "That felt good," mused a smiling Skanara as she settled back on her feet. "I've been killing void demons for the last six days, and honestly, slamming your face into the countertop is much more satisfying." She smiled and said very softly, " Much more. And I enjoy killing void demons. A lot." Skanara never thought of her defender, Daxithion, as being a "Void demon," even though it was a Void Lord she could summon to her side at will. To Skanara, Dax was a trusted protector – as she would be for it, if the occasion ever arose.

Nonplussed, Gravy lifted his head from the countertop again and, still grinning widely, said "Ya know it doesn't hurt, 'Nara. Mon, I kin do this all day."

The Troll at the bar watched the scene with barely disguised amusement. This appeared to be something that had played out more than once, given Gravy's easy behavior – that, and seeing the warlock had not killed Gravy. Yet.

"I told you, Troll, I don't appreciate nicknames. They imply intimacy. We are not intimate and never will be." Drawing herself up to her full height, she continued, "I am a Blood Elf and kin to Kael'thas Sunstrider himself. In Silvermoon City I am treated with the highest respect and honor. In Orgrimmar, I am treated as an honored warrior." She looked at a mildly annoyed Gravy and added "Mostly." She smiled easily. "You will call me by my familial name or surname. Or Commander."

"Or else what?" drawled Gravy. "Ya gonna slam my face down again, Elfie?"

Skanara lifted her left hand and struck Gravy with a disorientation bolt. The hapless bartender's eyes glazed and he tottered on his feet. "No, I'm going to leave you stunned and drooling for awhile. At least then you can't insult me." She paused. "It could have been worse, Troll. Be glad I'm in a good mood." Silently she mused that it probably should have been worse, but since Gravy worked for Nufa, and Nufa treated Skanara like a daughter, she never allowed herself to do anything more … enjoyable.

"Gfmald bethdoth glibble?" said a very befuddled Gravy.

Smiling and satisfied for the moment, she turned to the Troll sitting at the bar. "At least you behaved decently enough." She held out her hand in greeting. "I am Skanara Bloodwalker, Warlock and Vizier to House Dawn, Field Commander for House Dawn, and a warrior." She looked pointedly at Gravy, who was already showing some signs of recovery. To the seated Troll, she added "You may call me Skanara. Not "Elfie." Not "Nara" or any other -"

The Troll set his glass down as he interjected, "It's alright, mon. I know who ya are." He shook hands with her. "Tenku'Rou, a Darkspear scout for Vol'Jin." He smiled. "Lately I've been the go-between for him and Garosh Hellscream." He paused. "I tink everyone knows dey don' like each oddah, mon. I mostly just keeps 'em from killin' dere selfs."

She started to ask "Why bother?" when Gravy suddenly showed signs of recovery. The hapless bartender shook his head and leaned heavily on the bar for support. "Ya didn't have to go and do dat, Bloodwalker."

Instantly she lunged across the counter and slammed his face into the wood again.

Gravy immediately jerked his head back upright and yelled: "What da hell was dat for? I called ya by what ya asked, mon!"

Her demeanor changed abruptly. "Hmmmm," she said, giving Gravy the once-over. "I told you. It feels good." Her voice slipped over Tenku'Rou like red satin over skin. Everything about her oozed with the promise of seduction. She waited one long moment. Two. Three. She could begin to see Gravy's thinking begin to slide to its inevitable conclusion. Another moment to let it sink in.

She abruptly stood more upright, almost subconsciously began to brush imaginary dust off the sides of her skirt, and cracked a slow, evil-looking smile. "I don't need a reason, Troll." Her voice was businesslike, every last iota of sexuality gone. She had gone from irresistible seductress to total bitch in zero point 15 seconds.

"Skanara," called Nufa, interrupting her. "Your stew and drink are ready."

"Thank you, Nufa." Skanara turned and followed the innkeeper to a nearby table.

Looking up at the bartender, Tenku'Rou chuckled and took a more hearty swig of his drink. "Oy, Gravy. She do dis often, mon?"

"Oh all da time..." Gravy said, grinning. "Like I said though – it don' hurt."

"She do it enough, and ya gonna get ya tusks stuck in the bartop..." he said with a smirk.

Her meal finished, her thirst quenched, Skanara chose to walk the long distance between Nufa's Inn, located in the Valley of Honor, and Grommash Hold, in the Valley of Strength to the South. Although she was tired, it felt good to just walk – not ride, or take a portal, or – as had been the case too often lately – run shouting into battle.

Despite its size and imposing entryway, Grommash Hold – headquarters for the Horde Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream – looked entirely typical to Skanara Bloodwalker: it was cylindrical. Even the foyer was cylindrical. Skanara occasionally wondered what it was that drove the Orc mentality to live in round houses, but it really didn't matter. Skanara cared about nothing except protecting Azeroth and her people – even the Orcs, who didn't belong on Azeroth, but had no choice but to stay there. "Even the Orcs," thought Skanara hurriedly, as though she had been caught pilfering a dried yak treat from Nufa's jar. "Especially the Orcs," she amended. "They are the fiercest of warriors, even if their leader, Hellscream, is a complete ass."

Once inside, she walked across the huge animal-skin carpet, past the Forsaken delegation and the various specialization trainers, directly to Sauranok the Mystic. A veteran of many campaigns and right-hand man to Garosh Hellscream himself, the Shaman/Warrior grunted occasionally as he listened to Skanara's report.

Unlike Garrosh, Sauranok was both patient and attentive.

"You said we lost nearly an entire garrison, yet you doubt that Dimensius is behind the attack?" growled Sauranok in a thick Orcish accent. "Explain."

"The attack was completely disorganized," replied Skanara. "Dimensius has always used standard battle tactics: grab the enemy by the nose and then wheel around both flanks and attack without restraint. At least that's what he tries to do, we've always stopped him before he could execute a full flanking maneuver. But this time, the Void Demons swarmed in from nearly every direction at the same time." Skanara paused briefly, her brow furrowing. "It wasn't a strategic battle. It was a killing field." Sensing his next question she added, "I don't know how many there were, Sauranok. It was as though the very gates to the Void itself had been left open. There were thousands of them. Perhaps tens of thousands. They overwhelmed us at first with sheer numbers until we regrouped. This doesn't sound like Dimensius to me."

The Orc commander nodded. "We can't leave anything to chance. We must find out if Dimensius is behind this," grunted Sauranok. "Perhaps he was testing our defenses."

"It is possible," reflected Skanara, "but not very likely. Regardless, I'll contact House Dawn first thing in the morning and, if House Dawn agrees, I will personally investigate the matter." She paused. "Sauranok … when the demons killed the first of our warriors I swore revenge. When they killed six of my field generals, I swore I would kill twenty of theirs." She hung her head and continued quietly, "But when they killed my friends, I swore I would decimate whomever was responsible – no matter how many 'whomevers' there might be." She lifted her head and looked directly into Sauranok's dead eyes. "I won't pass up the chance to find out who is behind this – and end them."

"Then your duty is clear." Sauranok saluted her quickly, slamming his closed fist against his chest. "Go forth, Skanara Bloodwalker. Find our enemies. Kill them. FOR THE HORDE."

She curtsied briskly and turned to leave when she heard a loud growl coming from the direction of Garrosh Hellscream.

Tenku'Rou had casually strode into the room. She knew the current Warchief did not enjoy the presence of "his kind" in his throneroom, but it was something Hellscream reluctantly tolerated so long as he was not addressed directly.

The Troll quirked a brow at seeing Skanara, nodding politely before giving a deeper bow to Sauranok. Tenku'Rou was not surprised when the Orcish advisor did not return the gesture in-kind; instead Sauranok quietly saluted Tenku'Rou – Horde-style. "Orcs bow to no one," Garrosh had said the first and only time he'd done so with the expectation of the same greeting in return. Tenku'Rou handed a rolled parchment – presumably Darkspear business – to Sauranok, who took it and handed him one in return. Bowing again, Tenku'Rou turned and left.

Skanara walked outside and quickly caught up to Tenku'Rou. "I didn't expect to see you there. I thought you were just a 'go-between.'" She smiled at him. "Is there anything else I should know about you?" Grinning wickedly, she added, "A girl has to protect herself from the wrong kinds of people." After a moment she continued hastily, "Not that you're the wrong kind of people, I'm not saying that. I'd just …" She put her hand on his arm and pulled a little on it, stopping him for the moment. "Tenku'Rou, you surprised me. Not many can do that. Who are you?"

He smiled as she followed. "I'm just a Troll, mon... I hunt and I do scouting into troublesome places for mah people. Vol'Jin be an old friend a' mine, and he asked dat I talk to Garrosh for him until dey both be willin' ta forgive each oddah's rash words. Sauranok be wise for an Orc, so I speak to him when I can. Oddah times I just give him a report ta give Garrosh, and he give me one for Vol'Jin."

He checked the sun upon leaving Grommash Hold. "Hm ... I tink dere's time..." he muttered. "Little buggers will be lookin' for sun rocks before nightfall ... A white one won't be too hard to spot."

"Hmpf," said Skanara. " 'just a Troll.' For some reason, Tenku'Rou, I'm thinking there's more to you than meets the eye." He stopped walking and they faced each other. "I'm not known for being subtle, Troll. And I am a field commander for House Dawn. So, tell me: what was in the scroll? And – what the hell are you talking about? Lizards?"

Answering the second question, Tenku'Rou said "Yes, actually ... mah daughter is looking for a white Spiny Lizard... I'm trying ta catch one for her. But, healthy ones be pretty hard to find in that color, since dey stick out like a beacon for predators..."

"Lizards. For your daughter. How nice." Unconsciously, Skanara had begun ratcheting up the sarcasm; she expected answers from people – she was used to being in command, after all – but the nerve of that troll!

"Now let's get back to the important question, shall we?" she asked drily. "I am now asking you in my capacity as Vizier to House Dawn: What was written on that scroll?"

"Nothin' pertainin' ta ya Blood El-" he started hotly, before diving into the dirt and reaching into a crevasse between two rocks. "C'mere you-!"

For just a brief moment, Skanara considered tossing a mild entropy spell on him; nothing serious or permanent – just enough to make his toenails fall off. Fortunately, she was completely focused on his response and wanted to avoid a diplomatic nightmare. Even a light tap could hurt relations between the Blood Elves and the Orcs and the Trolls – not to mention House Dawn and the Horde Warchief.

Skanara sighed deeply. "All right, Tenku'Rou, it's obvious you won't answer me. Under different circumstances I'd pull rank on you, but … your business is with the Warchief, and if he wanted me to know I'm sure he'd tell me." Meaning, of course, the exact opposite. She then paused for emphasis. "In the future, Troll, you will never tell me that something is not the business of Blood Elves. Everything is our business when it comes to defending Azeroth." A heartbeat later she hissed: "Everything. And if it's not about defending Azeroth, I could care less."

She gave him a minute to think that through. "Whatever it is you're up to, I'll find out about it eventually. You know this. There is very little that House Dawn does not know about, and what they don't know they find out. I suggest you tread lightly, Troll. You don't want to be a victim of war politics."

Skanara was actually giving him sound advice, but judging from the way he was looking at her from behind a rock, she felt he might think she was actually threatening him. Of course, she wanted very badly to threaten him - and set his feet on fire - but it wasn't in the best interests of Azeroth. She could bide her time until the right moment, and this wasn't it.

Tenku'Rou scowled a brief moment before pulling his hand out of a crevasse, a small green lizard clinging fiercely to his finger. "Not da right color..." he said, getting it to let go and rapidly scurry back where he'd gotten it. "Ya know, if I didn't know betta I would say you be pullin' threats," he said, looking directly at the Blood Elf while licking a bit where the reptile's sharp teeth had drawn blood.

"Had I been threatening you, Troll, your feet would already be on fire and there wouldn't be anything you could do about it. Remember Gravy?" A heartbeat. "He didn't do well after I disoriented him. Imagine if you were traveling by raptor and you were suddenly confused about where you were – and where you were going. Now imagine if your mount felt exactly the same way." She gave him a moment to let it sink in. "Oh, forget it," she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss the entire matter. "I wasn't threatening you, I was offering some advice. Take it in the spirit it was offered, Troll." She smiled. "You would do well to remember what they taught you when you first joined the Horde: 'Never piss off a warlock.'"

After a brief moment she off-handedly said, "Eh, no matter. I'll find out what you've been up to soon enough." She smiled easily. "No offense intended, Tenku'Rou. Now if you'll excuse me ..."

Completely nonplussed, Tenku'Rou waved her off. "Ya... We both got tings ta do, mon..." he said, watching her go. After a bit he shook his head and whistled slightly. "Gravy, mon, ya be right. I like de way she move..."

Her sharp ears had caught everything Tenku'Rou had said, and she suspected he knew it. Walking away, she smiled to herself: she had to admit that, for a Troll, Tenku'Rou looked like he would make a tasty after-dinner treat. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the lusty image slowly taking shape in the back of her mind. "It's been too long, Skanara," she thought. "That hot Elven blood running through my veins is begging for another recharge. I do need one …"

After a bit she realized she was ogling nearly every attractive man or woman she walked near.

"Stop it!" she thought angrily. "Now is not the time. You need to recover, and then later – if I have even a quantum of spare time left to me on the morrow, I will take time to recharge my batteries." Reluctantly, she added, "… before I explode."

Her needs were real, but not in the way most would believe to be the case. Among outsiders, Blood Elves in general had a reputation for being lusty seducers with voices of pure honey. They were believed to have men and/or women in their beds every night, indulging in orgies of untold variety and unparalleled pleasure.

The truth was a bit more surprising than most would have believed.

Blood Elves, as a whole, had never been the lusty sex addicts they were believed to be. Far from it. Blood Elves had generally been formal, refined, and almost romantic in the way they approached their potential partners. More especially, they were discreet and tended to be monogamous. Or had been.

There was a reason the strange beliefs about the lustiness of Blood Elves had been first rumored, then accepted as general fact. Skanara Bloodwalker, always a very public figure treated with respect and honor wherever she went, was roughly one-quarter succubus.

Her mother was a half-succubus. Her father had been a hardworking mage trainer – or had been, until the rise of the Lich King. They both had had passed on much – if not all – of their magical qualities to their daughter. Not being a full succubus – or even a half-succubus – Skanara had more control over her sexual urges than her mother, but she was still eventually compelled to obey her inner demon – the demon that drove her into the beds of men, women, and non-Blood-Elves. Common belief held that Blood Elves would have sex with anything, including non-humans and farm animals. This belief was simply untrue. Skanara drew the line at non-humanoid sex (with the exception of certain magics she reserved for the quiet of her bedroom – when she was alone).

While being unable to entirely resist the compulsion to feed on sexual energy, she had control over her inner demon. She drew as little life-force as possible from her partner(s); it kept them from harm and added a spectacular boost to sexual pleasure. No one was harmed, everyone was happy.

Win-win in Skanara's book.

She was known in nearly every major city as a startlingly beautiful, exotic Blood Elf with a legendary appetite for sexual adventure. Considering this for a moment, Skanara became a little bitter over what she felt was as an undeserved reputation. "I'm not really that bad," she thought sourly. "I don't deserve that reputation." She began to hate herself – just a little.

It couldn't last. Seconds later, she grinned. "Well, maybe a little."

As the stories of her escapades grew more and more exaggerated, Skanara's position as an Ambassador of Good Will from Silvermoon City became somewhat … precarious.

The exaggerations of her sexual appetites had sparked rumors that all Blood Elves shared the same exaggerated sexual appetites and seductiveness. Blood Elves everywhere were nearly ecstatic with joy. They knew what would happen next.

Although a few succubus Blood Elves existed, the rest had no special abilities at all. In practice, however, the rumors may as well have been true, because their partners accepted the rumors as fact. As a result, Blood Elves' partners generally believed they had been unwillingly (or willingly) seduced and compelled to drop all their sexual inhibitions. That, or they subconsciously (or consciously) knew better and used the rumors as an excuse to let go. Either way, their partners' sexual pleasure scale tended to peg at 'Oh. My. God!' The myth was self-perpetuating.

The noble Blood Elf houses officially denounced these rumors as false and without basis in fact. Privately, Blood Elves everywhere were thrilled with the possibilities of random and frequent sexual encounters.

But no one would admit it.

Skanara was officially reprimanded and sent on a very public mission to be House Dawn's Ambassador to Vol'Jin.

Personally.

The truth was, being an ambassador to Vol'Jin was exactly the same as an extended vacation with trusted comrades. There were kegs of ale, bottles of wine, plenty of singing and dancing, and frequent, sudden needs to seduce them and feed her inner demon.

They sure didn't need much seducing. It was more like they were seducing her. To Trolls – natural hunters and shamans bound to the force of nature itself – life was a banquet and was to be treated respectfully as such.

When the hubbub subsided, Skanara quietly returned to her post in Orgrimmar with an official order to exercise self-restraint. At the same time she was "promoted" to Field Commander and ceased being the Ambassador from Silvermoon City. That honor passed to Kael Risingstar, already House Dawn's youngest vizier

"Now that was just plain mean," thought Skanara bitterly. "I didn't deserve that." Moments later, she cracked a somewhat evil smile and thought, "well, mostly."

Not everything about being a succubus was bad, however. In return for a having a wild, sex-crazed demon constantly tugging for control over her behavior, Skanara gained a few advantages. She enjoyed an unusual vitality; exceptional physical strength in comparison to every race in Azeroth except the Orcs; an accelerated healing rate; exceptional speed; and a nearly hypnotic sexual aura that drew attention from all but the most mentally-neutered sentient beings in range.

"Enough," she thought. "I can tell I need rest. And I don't need to think about that anymore." She shoved the reverie aside with a gentle nudge.

Moving away from the main traffic areas, Skanara began the summoning spell that would bring her Winged Guardian to her side. As shimmering red Fel flames engulfed her and cascaded down her body into a never-growing pool of Fel fire, she intoned loudly "Alastor! Alastor! Alastor! Thrice I call thy name, and thrice I bind thee! Thee shall come to me – NOW!" She made a rapid grasping motion in the air with her right hand, as though she were physically pulling something out of the ether.

After a moment, a confused Skanara stood quietly, trying to figure out why nothing had happened. She had performed the spell exactly as she had hundreds of times before. And yet – nothing.

From behind her, a quiet voice basso voice said, "Was all that melodrama necessary? Really," he said with disdain, "all you have to do is wiggle your fingers and say 'Alastor, I need you,' and I'd be right there. Simple. Easy." He paused for effect. "Am I asking so much?"

Her dark mood vanished immediately. Alastor always knew just what to say and how to say it. She happily threw her arms around his neck and said "I have missed your sense of humor, Alastor."

Alastor rumbled happily as she stood up. He moved closer and nuzzled her hair for a moment, then, lowering his head, he said, "I am yours to command."

"I've got a nice surprise for you!" she exclaimed happily. "You're going to love it." She stepped back a little and reached lovingly into a small pouch she kept around her neck. She retrieved a bit of Proto-Drake meat a leatherworker had thoughtfully provided her. It was his favorite, and she enjoyed the expression on his face as he gingerly took the meat from her hand and began to chew happily. After a moment he rumbled satisfactorily, "Ah, singed … just the way I like it. Would you perchance have more, Mistress?"

She retrieved a little more Proto-Drake meat from the pouch and offered it to him. "That's all I've got, Alastor." He finished it. Somehow she knew he was grateful; she had no idea how or why. Setting the thought aside for future consideration, Skanara patted him lovingly on the head. "I need you to take me to –"

"Nufa's Inn," finished Alastor smugly. "Hop on, Mistress, and you soon shall be sleeping in comfort."

His understanding of her needs never failed to amaze her. "How does he know these things?" she wondered – not for the first time. She climbed up onto his back and settled comfortably on his saddle.

"Yes, please, Alastor. Thank you."

He extended his wings and launched them into the air.