"-ake up! Drax, come come!" Ishilla shook her Orc partner awake, her exotic accent putting him at ease.
"Alright, alright! I'm up!" He protested with a yawn. Ishilla tugged on Drax's sleep shirt and pointed towards the window.
It was very early in the morning, the stars were still shining. The water surrounding Sen'jin village lapped at the shore, a gentle breeze caressing the trees. Drax inhaled the tropical air and allowed the sweet scent to fill his lungs.
"It be warm, perfect time for de water," Ishilla's broken Orcish never failed to make Drax smile. The warrior stood up in the small cabin, holding his lover by her waist.
"Ish, it's stupid early. What got you up?" Drax questioned, his green chin resting on the Troll's shoulder.
"Restless, no sleep," the priest replied, "we don' hafta leave for few more days now. We allowed to enjoy."
Drax let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head at Ishilla's childness. She was always looking at ways to goof around, it was a chore to keep her focused on her priest training.
"I suppose you're right," Drax sighed, "it won't kill me to have a little fun while we're here."
With that, Ishilla let out a quiet cheer. She was already halfway out of the door, sprinting with her long legs towards the warm and tropical water.
Drax caught up, slightly winded; the sight before him took the rest of his breath. Ishilla was undressing, her white and red robe pooling around her feet. Her beautiful figure always managed to render her Orc lover speechless.
"Ya always stare like ya 'ave never seen my body b'fore," the Darkspear blushed.
"I may see you like this almost every night, but your beauty never fails to amaze me." Drax chuckled and began to disrobe as well.
This caused the taller to blush even more, her entire face covered in a darker blue hue compared to the rest of her blue-tinted skin.
"I'stead o' flatterin' me, come join me," she teased, her tongue revealing itself between her blue lips and small tusks.
Ishilla dove into the coast, her body welcoming the warm water. She laughed whole-heartedly, her smile as bright as the stars above the two Horde lovers. Drax soon joined her, lifting the woman by her rear.
The two enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere, Ishilla leaning on Drax as they both closed their eyes in content. By now, tints of oranges and pinks filled the base of the sky, hinting it was dawn.
"We should head back into our cabin, my love," Drax whispered into the Darkspear's ear, knowing very well the residents of Sen'jin would be up at any moment.
"There be no need ta' rush, Drax," Ishilla cooed, her accent causing the statement to be a little harsh, "'sides, Trolls don' think o' bare bodies tha way most do."
Ishilla was right, it was more common to see bare Trolls running around villages more often than not. With the Darkspears, nudity wasn't anything sexual. When it came to sexuality and partners, the Loas decided for them.
"Scout Drax, Lady Ishilla," a voice called from behind them, "there be someone wantin' to speak with yas'."
Startled by the sudden intruder, the two got up in unison. Ishilla threw on her under shirt and skin-tight pants, whereas Drax decided only his sleep pants were needed
Making their way to the biggest cabin, they walked into a room filled with the presence of the Warchief, Thrall.
"Warchief, Sir," Drax saluted his chieftain. Ishilla did the same, bowing her head in respect.
"Nice to see you both in good health, I see Sen'jin has been treating you well," Thrall smiled kindly, "unfortunately, as always, duty calls."
The neutral look on Ishilla's face quickly turned sour, she was never one to enjoy her duty as a priest.
"Now, now," Thrall spoke quickly, noticing the Troll's rapidly-decreasing mood, "being on the front lines is never easy, I should know better than anyone. As a warrior, and priest, of the Horde, we need to keep our remaining territories under control and safe. This includes one of our most dangerous…"
"But we-"
"Where are we heading, Sir?" Drax interrupted, making sure to drown out Ishilla's rebuttals.
"Hillsbrad Foothills."
The former-stoic Drax fell somber, his face quickly painting a scowl. Hillsbrad was always being attacked, under siege by Alliance scum.
With a reluctant attitude, Ishilla spoke up, "Yes, Chieftain."
···
The floorboards of the zeppelin moaned as it felt the weights of both Ishilla and Drax. Ishilla was back in her Robe of Power, her Starcaller and stave strapped tightly to her back. Drax was fully covered in his armor, mail protecting him from head to toe; his large sword hung from him menacingly, the white sliver gleaming in the sun of Durotar.
Currently, they were on their way to Undercity, a place that Ishilla loved. Her mastery of tailoring had come so far, past even the highest master in Orgrimmar. The Undead were more than happy to continue mentoring her as she gained the skills required to make such extravagant and powerful robes.
Drax was not so fond of Undercity, nor the Undead. The stench of the canals, the maze of various teachers for many professions, it was all overwhelming. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
"We be here," Ishilla nudged Drax out of his daze, "I won' be too long, I be needin' nectar and we be on our way."
Drax grumbled something in Orcish and rolled his eyes. Ishilla let out a small laugh and grabbed the Orc's hand. Together, they walked off the zeppelin and onto the tower, the ruins of Lordaeron slowly being revealed by the heavy fog that settled over the forsaken place. The smell of rotting flesh and death loomed over them, the atmosphere heavy and bleak.
"On second thought, I be gettin' it at Hillsbrad," Ishilla spoke softly, her accent barely noticeable. There was something … off about this place it seemed. The priest shivered, cold chills up and down her body. She reached into her heavy bag, replacing her wand with a sharp and concealed dagger.
"Ish, what's wrong?" Drax asked, puzzled. Ishilla never uses a dagger unless she desperately needs to fight, her wand was only so useful if Drax was the first to attack.
"Give me a moment," she breathed, quickly starting to channel a spell. A bright light began to grow in her hands, immediately cast towards an Undercity guardian. Her spell, mind vision, allowed her to see what that guardian was seeing. She scanned, knowing that there was something off.
Suddenly, her pawn turned around. A small Gnome sunk his knife into the neck of the guardian, his face mostly covered by a black hood. She snapped back into her body with a gasp, only able to mutter a single word.
"Rogue."