Author's Notes: This is not going to be a quality work. It's full of sex, dick jokes, and unfortunate discussions of troll mating habits. Light on angst, heavy on humor and ridiculousness. All I'm saying, is you guys wanted a Lorel/Tzun'do story: you should have been more specific in the asking :).

If this is not your thing at all, go read more on Kalibose and Mae, they will rot your teeth they are so sweet.

Also, I'm just laying down the first chapter here because I've been sitting on it so long I am tired of looking at it. I don't have any kind of update schedule planned for this one so the second chapter might take a bit.

Aaron Darksky

Aba'lain Cresthoof

Abalitha Dawnstar

Abel Goodstone

Abelekka

A large, two-toed foot covered his parchment. Its skin was of a blue-ish hue, the toes were callused and rough looking, and there was a leather strap around the ankle. Several painted beads adorned the strap to make an anklet of sorts. Tzun'do sighed, trying not to let his irritation bleed through his face. His gaze swept up the muscled, shapely calf, to the absurdly short hem of a ragged leather skirt. With her leg hiked up on his table, it left little to the imagination. He continued his indifferent stare, up a smooth flat stomach, a barely functional leather top, then to a pair of slender tusks and surprisingly voluptuous lips. When he got to her topknot of purple braids, he sighed again, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair.

"What ya want, Lekka?" She grinned at him wider, and shifted so that she was leaning forward onto her leg.

"We got t'ree days to log all dese rookies into dere classes. Why don't we go find another way to spend da time?"

For a moment he considered it. It was hot, he was bored out of his skull, and Lekka was certainly attractive, although a little bold for his taste. Not more than any other troll woman though. There was a reason they had such a reputation among their allies: to bed a Darkspear was to combat a fierce lover, and most often, both parties were left bruised and aching for days. Tzun'do's enthusiasm dampened. If Lekka were seeking him out with purpose, then she wanted to challenge him to take her to bed. He eyed the strong muscles in her bare arms and the seductive smirk on her face. It was very likely he'd be found lacking and walking home to his tent alone tonight. He gestured to the parchment getting crushed under her foot.

"Sorry, but I got work ta do. Maybe later?" He wasn't counting on it, but it was best to leave the offer open. He was a half-breed, but he wasn't stupid. The smirk on her face twisted into something crueler as she withdrew her foot and turned away.

"Dat be yer loss, mutt."

He dropped the half-ass smile he'd been attempting and clicked his teeth together irately. When Lekka was looking to get laid, he was a piece of meat. Any other time, he was a freak. He didn't stop himself from admiring the tight curve of her ass as she sauntered away, then drug his eyes away and tried to focus again on the parchment in front of him. It had gotten wrinkled from Lekka's foot, and he smoothed it flat as he went down the checklist. The novice druids that were waiting to get checked in were fraternizing in groups instead of getting in line, and sitting up straighter, he barked out an order to them.

"Hey! Get in line, ya scrubs!" He picked up the papers and waved them above his head to get their attention. "Over here, get ya ass checked in and report to ya mentors!"

A few of them paid attention at least, a hefty pair of night elves that looked taller than he was. Not only were they tall, they were both built like feral druids: wide shoulders, big hands, and heavily muscled. In spite of their size, they looked nervous in the crowd, although, Tzun'do noted with an inner scowl, it didn't prevent them from forgetting half their clothes back home. Both were only dressed in a pair of loose pants, and the one with green hair spoke for both of them.

"Legalith and Umiel, of clan Silverpaw."

Tzun'do raised an eyebrow, but there were the names, without a surname. He checked them off and waved his hand at them dismissively.

"Alright, ya done, go find ya mentors."

They stood in front of him awkwardly, and he resisted the urge to take his frustration out by slapping some action into them. He channeled that into another sigh, and tried to remember that he was supposed to be an instructor this year, and he couldn't rough up the rookies, no matter how much he was tempted to. He tapped one large finger on the parchment irately.

"What?"

"We don't have a mentor." The teal-haired druid spoke quietly. "We signed up for the class independently."

"Alright, wait a tic." He reached under the table and pulled out the larger book that had all the information for the Tal'doren Comprehensive Summer Training Camp (Western Plaguelands Division) in it. It was written in Common, which he was fluent in, but he'd spent so much time among his troll brethren lately he had to read the first few sentences through a couple times before his brain would even process it. It was hard to think in this stifling heat.

"Says here ya get assigned to the default mentor, who is-" he returned to his check-in list and scanned it quickly. "Lorel Woodstalker. I ain't seen her yet, but I'll let 'er know that ya waitin' on her."

The pair smiled at him and thanked him before slipping away from the crowd. He almost yelled after them to go put a shirt on at least, but then he remembered Lekka's barely decent outfit. He snorted under his breath.

"Ruffians, all o' ya."

He glanced sourly out at the field in front of him. This was not how he planned on spending his summer. He thought longingly of Stranglethorn, of the lush humidity-fueled vegetation that hid cool grottoes of water. He'd had every intention of slipping every post that his mother had set up for him this summer, and spending the season luxuriating in the lack of responsibilities that came with being a single troll of twenty-five. Sun, nature, booze, and maybe even women. That had definitely been on his list for this summer. But instead his mother, who was far sharper and more clever than anyone gave the tiny red-haired troll woman credit for, had signed him up to be a Loa-damned teacher. A flight instructor for a bunch of annoying, self-entitled idiots, teaching them how to shift and take off and not piss themselves when they got a little too high. He'd already tried to bribe his friend Senak to do the job for him with a stupid amount of good pirate rum. The bastard had barely stopped laughing long enough to tell him no, hell no, and in case he was confused, fuck off. Tzun'do clicked his teeth again. This was going to be a shitty summer, he could already tell.

Tzun'do was familiar with terrible summers. It was bad enough that his mother was outspoken, progressive for a female, and terribly superstitious in often strange ways. She was also a very prominent druid leader in the Cenarian Circle, at least as far as Trolls went, and everyone knew her. Everyone, it seemed, except the one person to ever catch her eye and her bed, and beget her only son. And then disappeared off the face of Azeroth, for as much as he knew. He had stopped studying the face of every Kal'dorei man they came across as they traveled, his father's race the only thing he knew about him. His mother's tired, "Nah, dat ain't him," wore down on him, until he stopped asking. And eventually stopped looking, and now even if the man walked right up to him and called him son, he would probably punch the bastard in the face. What kind of a jackass doesn't ever check in on his kid, even if he doesn't want him? The guy never did him any favors anyway.

To the inexperienced eye, he could be taken for full-blooded Darkspear. He was a little on the short side, sure, and his tusks weren't as big, but they were there, at least. He for sure would never be mistaken for a night elf. He had the hands, feet, tusks, hair, and even the face of his mother's race. But he had never gotten as tall or bulky as the other troll children he had been raised around. He had tried: he'd ran until he couldn't breathe, lifted boulders and exercised until he could lift twice what anyone else his age could. But he stayed at least a half-foot shorter than even the smaller of the full-grown trolls, and at this point, he was pretty damned tired of trying to look as muscled.

"Fuck 'em," he muttered out loud, momentarily forgetting that he was in a public location, and one of the ones in charge. He cast an eye about to see if anyone was actually paying attention, then sat up straighter and ruffled his papers importantly. After he realized he couldn't get out of the teaching position, he showed up at the camp early enough to catch his mother before she took off on another of her diplomatic missions. He had fully intended on giving her a piece of his mind about signing him up for shit without asking first...which was how he was now stuck being the check-in person. And he was also a mentor. Just his luck. Not that any of these scrubs were paying attention to him anyway. They were all standing around with their collective thumbs up their asses, too busy gabbing or showing off for each other to check in properly.

There was one group in particular that looked like trouble. It was some of the youngest ones there, mostly night elves and worgen, and a few of them could obviously already shift into bird form, because they were circling the group, dipping and catching bits of hair or swooping down close to the ground. One of the stormcrows was a little bigger than the others, and obviously belonged to one of the older druids: it was doing loops and soaring high up in the air, and diving down into the group, making them jump away and laugh. The crow did this several times, then took off to do a lazy loop of the campground. Tzun rolled his eyes and finally caught the eye of some of the closest students, who came to him of their own accord. He took their names, sent them on their way, and when he looked back up, the stormcrow was now doing loops and spins around the perimeter of the campground. Whoever it was was not content to just perform, but to also push it to the edge: the crow would spin close enough to a tree to loose several leaves down on unsuspecting people below, would swoop close enough to the ground that the tallest flowers would be beheaded, and take each trick further than the last. In spite of the fact the bird was disrupting the check-in process, Tzun'do was silently appreciative of the flier's skills. If that person was in his flight class, there wouldn't be much at all he could teach them. In fact, he might find himself learning a few tricks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sharp movement right as the stormcrow flew past. He looked up just in time to hear a loud bird-scream and a magnificent crash into a large tree. Dumping all of his papers to the ground, he jumped up with a curse and ran out into the crowd gathering around the base of the trees.

"What da hell happened here?" he demanded as he pushed past several gawkers. As soon as he heard the drawl behind him, he knew.

"Mebbe baby birdy der ought ta watch where she goin'." He turned around slowly to see Lekka. Lekka with a smug, completely unapologetic look on her face. Lekka with her hand on her hip and the most sensual asshole pout on her face that she could muster. She was flanked by two troll men that he knew well enough to avoid after dark: they had a tendency to corner those that stood out, those that were different than them and punch them until they had their fill of it. They were bad news, and he had no idea why the Cenarian Circle continued to place them in positions where they could do this to younger druids. Tzun'do was pissed today though, and he drew himself up as tall as he could as he confronted them.

"Why you three gotta act like children?" He pointed up at the tree, where the stormcrow was thrashing against whatever had caught it securely. "Get up der, get it down."

Lekka leaned forward slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, and licked her lips.

"Make me, freak."

Without breaking eye contact until the last moment, she turned around and walked off. The two brothers followed her, cackling in their low voices, and Tzun'do did everything he could not to jump on them and punch those smug looks off of their faces. It was only the knowledge that if he did that, he would probably hurt for a long time afterward, if not die, that kept him anchored to the spot. With a snarl, he whipped around and griped at the crowd of onlookers at the base of the tree.

"Get outta here, ya rubberneckers. Don't ya got some place ta be?"

They spread out quickly, not wanting to incur the wrath of one of the mentors on the very first day of camp. He took a good look up into the tree and assessed the situation. The stormcrow, which was even larger than he thought before, was tangled up very messily in what could only be a weighted net, probably nicked from the armory. He felt another wave of fury as he saw how painfully it was entangled: those three could have killed the bird at the speed the druid had been going. Thank the Loas it landed in a tree instead of falling on the ground. The tree was a tall, straight one with a more spread out and scrubby top. It would be easier to get up there as a cat then in his current shape. Also if he were shifted, he might be able to talk the person down from the panicking, which they seemed to be already doing, if the way they were struggling against the net was any indication.

As soon as he shifted into cat form, a barrage of mental chatter hit him full-force.

-stupid fucking net, damn feathers caught, what kind of imbecile throws a NET at a druid-

He crouched, feeling the feline muscles respond to his intent, and launched himself into the tree. He caught the first branch a little hard, and scrabbled for it with his claws for a moment. He heard a change in the flighty, stream-of-conscience thought that was characteristic of a druid in bird form.

-oh that's just fabulous, a fucking tiger, probably thinks its got a quick meal, well just come at me, I'll peck both your eyes out-

Would ya shut ya trap for five seconds?

He fixed both of his deep yellow eyes on the large stormcrow above him. It had ceased its struggling, and was twisting its head to catch a better look at him. The mental wave of confusion that came off of it was still edged with its aggravation.

What the hell kind of druid are YOU?

He was far too annoyed to respond to a question about his race.

The one that's gonna get ya ass out of dis tree, if ya hold still.

He eyed the rest of the tree through a slitted gaze. Some of his more feral instincts were kicking in: he could tell which branches were more solid and likely to hold his weight. A stale, hot breeze stirred the leaves on the tree, and brought the scent of the stormcrow to his more sensitive nose. It was a roiling mass of sweat, adrenaline, residue of the pollution from a major city, just a little fear, and undeniably female. He inhaled, and snorted as he climbed his way up onto the next branch. He wouldn't have expected a girl to be such an excellent flier, but he would definitely expect one to be so reckless.

Well fuck you too, Tiger Lily. For your information I am an EXCEPTIONAL flier and if some jackass hadn't thrown a net at me, you'd never be able to catch me, I'm so fast.

He hadn't intended on her hearing that bit of inner monologue, and if he had been able to while shapeshifted, he would have rolled his eyes.

Yeah, ya keep tellin' yaself dat.

He was at the branch right below her now, and he inspected the situation with some trepidation. She had really tangled herself up: she was bound just as sure as if someone were intending to take her home and cook her to eat. He couldn't keep back a peal of mental laughter as he tried to find the best place to slice through the ropes wrapped around her feathers and the smaller twigs of the tree. The stormcrow ruffled its feathers indignantly.

You think this is so funny, you just wait until I get out of here, I'm going to beat the shit out of those three, gonna make them beg for their mommies-

She was working herself up into a flighty frenzy again, and he griped at her sternly, unable to keep himself from a low growl as well.

Get yaself together Birdy and hold still. Ya don't want ta lose anymore feathers.

She froze, and her yellow eyes rolled in her head as she tried to inspect herself.

I'm losing feathers?

Yeah, so hold still and I'll get rid a dis mess.

He rose up awkwardly on his back legs and rested his forelegs on the branch. The stormcrow leaned back from him, but otherwise held still. He managed to get one paw onto a portion of the net that was threaded through with sticky leaves, and pulled it closer to him. He bit down onto it as delicately as possible, and was rewarded with a snap of broken ropes and the stormcrow lunged against the sudden give that she now had. The entire branch wobbled, and he had to dig his claws in to not lose his balance.

Would ya fuckin' hold still? It be hard to stand here like dis, and if ya knock me down, I swear I'll leave ya up here ta rot.

She ruffled her feathers at him again and held herself still as he tried to steady himself on the branch. If he fell out of this tree, it would just be the topping on his entire day. Loa-damned mess this whole thing was. He caught another tangle of the net and pulled it closer. The stormcrow squawked loudly as he bit down on it, snapping the rope and catching a feather in his teeth.

Watch where you're biting, you stupid animal! That's my feather!

He bared his teeth at her, his best imitation of a grin while in cat form.

Hold still, else I'll eat you alive.

The stare of her yellow eyes was about as murderous as it could be on a grey bird the size of a collie.

You are so going on my list, buddy. I don't care if you're helping me down or not.

The stormcrow was nearly free now, just the ropes caught around her wings remained. He considered them a moment, before coming to a decision.

I'm gonna shift now, and cut the rest with a knife.

You're not getting a knife near my wings!

She struggled against the remaining ropes in agitation. He could see where the ropes were digging into her skin and catching more feathers every time she that she moved against them. He growled at her in frustration.

Either that or I pick ya up with my teeth and carry ya down. Which ya want?

His answer was a cold glare. Sighing, he shifted his focus and changed form. He wrinkled his nose once he was back to his familiar Troll-ish stature and rubbed it with one hand. He was a skilled shifter, but he always felt a need to make sure his nose was the proper size and not left distorted or too large. It was much easier to balance in this form, and he grabbed the branch and hauled himself up to reach the other druid. She was remaining still, at least, even when he drew the knife out of his belt. He was grateful for it: the portion of the net that was left was caught fast in the crook where her wings met her back, and he could see places where it had yanked out a few of her tertiary feathers. It wouldn't affect her flying too much, but if she lost her nerve and really struggled hard, she could do some damage to her wings. Despite his aggravation at being high up in a tree rescuing a creature that surely knew better than to be stuck, he made an effort to keep her calm as he moved closer with the knife.

"Shhh," he crooned in his low voice, and gently smoothed the feathers at her back. She made one soft caw, and turned so that she was staring at him with a golden yellow eye, but otherwise seemed to calm.

"Jus' keep still, I'll have ya right out of here."

He turned the knife flat, and carefully slid it under the ropes. They had dug in the worst here, and he worked quickly before she flipped out at having a knife directly on her skin. She may be calm at the moment, but the bird mind was a fickle thing, even for a skilled druid. The first one snapped, then the second. The stormcrow flexed with the sudden give, and he nearly lost his balance completely. He grabbed wildly for the branch.

"I told ya to keep still!" he snapped. He clung to the branch until it stopped swaying. She cawed again, and it sounded recalcitrant. He set to work on the final ropes.

"Dat better be an apology. Stupid bird."

He sawed through the rest of the ropes as quickly as possible. With the final one, she stretched up, spreading her wings as far as they would go. With one last uninterpretable caw, she focused her golden beady eyes on him, then with a sudden movement, took off into the air. With a loud yelp, Tzun'do finally lost his balance. He had already come so close to falling before, that he had a basic plan in his head: he turned as he fell so that he hit the ground on all fours. His knees smarted when he landed, but at least he didn't break a leg. He muttered to himself as he brushed the dirt off his palms.

"Damn ungrateful bird. Coulda just left ya up der to rot."

She did not fly off to sulk as he expected her to, but made a slow circle before coming to light on the ground. She shifted form fluidly, and Tzun was startled to see a small figure with wild white hair, much like a dandelion fluff, in the crow's place. It was the smallest night elf he had ever seen: in fact, despite her language, she must be only a child. He hurried her way, cursing under his breath, worried how such a young student had gotten sent to the training camp. It must be some sort of accident: this was apprentice level, but not beginner's. The druid in question bent over and scrubbed her hands through her white hair, flipping it back out of her eyes just as he pulled up short. Small she may be, but those most certainly were not a child's curves in her simple leather attire. He stood for a moment, more confused than ever, and stared at her without realizing it. Her quick golden eyes alighted on him and she stalked toward him. He barely caught the intense fire on her face before she lit into him.

"Where are they?" For such a tiny night elf, she was so angry. It had an almost comical effect, and he nearly had to swallow his tongue to keep from laughing at her. She stabbed a finger into his chest to get his attention, and she had to stand up on her tiptoes to do so.

"Where the hell are they? I'm going to kill them." She glanced behind him, as if she thought he were hiding Lekka himself. He coughed loudly to hide the fact that he was trying not to laugh, and another druid ran up at that moment to save him from answering.

"By Elune, Auntie Lorel, are you-" the short one cut her off before she could finish. Although the blue haired night elf clutching her arm was taller, she looked like she belonged here: she was very young in the face, and she kept glancing around as if every person here was intimidating.

"Wait, Brek. I asked you a question, jackass." This was directed at him, and after the ordeal he had just been through, it pissed him off. He crossed his arms over his chest and pulled himself up taller.

"I saw nothing, Birdy, 'cept your ass stuck in a tree. Which ya welcome for, by da way."

"Whatever. Those three trolls, the bitch wearing almost nothing, and the two men with stupid faces. They threw a fucking net at me. You don't do that to someone in flight. They-" she seemed so incensed she couldn't even finish. She flexed her hands into fists, then curled them around as if she were already shifted into a cat and they were claws. The gesture might have been threatening, if she did not just barely come past his hip at full-height. He sighed and glanced up at the sky. It was nearing eventide, and he was starting to get hungry. Forget all this shit, he earned a solid meal today. He waved a dismissive hand at the girl in front of him.

"Jus' shake it off, Birdy, ya fine."

She stared at him a moment, cleverness apparent behind the anger lighting her face up. He could see her mentally struggle for a moment, then she made a rude gesture his way and turned to stalk off, the younger night elf in tow.

"Fucking trolls, always sticking together. Probably helped them do it."

He didn't even even try to correct her, but he lobbed a few insults at her himself as he made his way back to collect his scattered papers off the dusty ground.

Damned ungrateful night elf.

Fucking childish jackasses.

Stupid waste-of-time Loa-damned SUMMER CAMP.

He shoved the papers back into the information folder, not caring if they were wrinkled or folded. Fuck today. Fuck this whole summer.

The next six weeks were going to be terrible.