The great War Marshall Thrall sat under the great Oak Tree and stroked his great, green, erect cock, making great farting noises with the foreskin. "Mmmm, this is great," he observed. He thought of his great battles and great boyfriend, The Lich King, back home while he performed this action. As the great, hot semen ejected from his great penis, he screamed, "FOOOOORRRR THE HOOOOOORRRRDDDDEEE!!!!!" with five exclamation points for good... no, great!, measure.
"Sir," the great Captain Testiclees called as he ran up the hill toward the naked Thrall, "the humans have breached the walls of the Great Castle! It won't be long before we're all deader than a bunch of fags at a Bareback Excha–" Testiclees suddenly stopped talking and released a great gust of air from his mouth. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, sir? Off the record, of course."
"What is it?" Thrall asked as he pulled his great pants over his now flaccid penis.
"Why were you masturbating up here?" Testiclees inquired. "There's a war going on, and we need your great strategic mind for any hope of victory!"
Thrall rested a sticky hand on Testiclees' great shoulder. "Son, sometimes a man has to satisfy certain... urges, even in the heat of battle. You'll understand when you're older."
"I'm 25, your greatness."
Thrall angrily punched the Captain in the stomach with a great, powerful fist. "Did I stutter, motherfucker?"
Testiclees sighed greatly. "No..."
"Then let's get going before I'm forced to fill your anus with cement again."