I own Vician Trannyth, Itris Highbinder, Kaxet Botfuel, Ororan Lonesnarl, Elkemin Winddreamer, Uraz'Do, Tibarn Bonefever, and Rili the succubus, all else to Blizz
A/N...
Yay more OC's :3
I feel as if I'm shooting myself in the foot for making a 6-man-party *Rili glares over* Alright a 7-man-party
See, when you work with characters enough, they come to life and glare at you alot...
Dear, reader, if you hadn't noticed, I'm a Horde player. Not like that has anything to do with my view on the A̶l̶l̶i̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ ̶s̶c̶u̶m̶,̶ ̶A̶l̶l̶i̶a̶n̶c̶e̶ ̶d̶o̶g̶s̶, Alliance! :)
Warning: Use of language, blood, fighting, death, yelling, and Goldshire
Itris Highbinder hangs her head, walking through Silvermoon City. With a lack of magnificent quests and adventures to go on, Itris has decided for herself, that she will find a job to occupy her time. If only she can find one. No one, it seems, will take her and it looks like she is going to be on the streets of Silvermoon City, or worse, in the brothels. She has heard horror stories from those places, from men and women alike; whenever she passed by one—not a common occurrence, as she tries to avoid them—she shivers at the leering stares from the drunken Orcs.
Lost in her depression, she barely notices a leaflet fluttering in the breeze, until it smacks her in the face. Blinking and spluttering, she pulls back the offending paper, to throw it away. The Sigil of the Horde in to corner, however, draws her attention. The leaflet reads:
Champions of the Horde, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner calls for your aid!
Grand Warlock, Vician Trannyth, has been lost to the Burning Legion, and the Dark Lady demands of his return; a task suited for you, Heroes of the Horde.
Heed the Banshee Queen's call and serve directly on her Majesty's service; for you shall be richly rewarded!
If you seek to answer the Dark Lady's call, report to the Undercity at once!
Itris blinks, cocking her head to the side. She does not know of Vician Trannyth personally, however, she does know of him. The Sanctum would always cause such a ruckus when he would visit the city.
Itris folds the paper, stuffing it into the many folds of her robe. The sound of being richly rewarded was appealing to her and her dwindling gold. For the first time that day, Itris smiles and skips towards the Inner Sanctum, where the Orb of Translocation his held, and is soon on her way to the Undercity, to serve on her Majesty's service.
Blowing out an 'O' of smoke, Kaxet Botfuel chuckles and throws a few more gold coins into the growing betting pool. With the cigar clinging to his bottom lip, he looks at his cards, grinning like a madman. "Yeah, she told me to tie her up and do whatever I wanted; so I took her stereo." A chuckle rises from the other goblin men around the table.
"Yea, yea, more jokes," a goblin with a stubby nose across from Botfuel remarks, "It shows how bad you're losing."
Blowing out more smoke, Kaxet grins, "Well, show your cards then," he says, flipping over his own, "Full House."
The goblin men 'ooh' around the table, looking at the goblin with the stubby nose. The goblin grins, and flips over his cards, "Four Aces!" The goblin cackles and reaches forward drawing the gold coins towards him.
Kaxet stands with a start, "Four Aces! You slipped in cards, I know you did." He puffs his cigar and blows it in the face of the other goblin.
The other goblin stands, "You calling me a cheat wise guy?"
Kaxet smirks and pulls out his dagger, plunging it into the other goblin's neck, spraying blood across the table. Pulling his dagger back, he pushes the dead goblin back into his seat. The other goblins don't say anything as Kaxet pulls the gold pile towards him.
The lumbering of feet alerts Kaxet to his hobgoblin servant. "Boss! Boss! I gots de mail, Boss!" Bending down, the hobgoblin passes the mail to Kaxet, earning a pat on the head.
"Let's see here," Kaxet begins, looking through the mail, "Junk. Junk. Bills. Bills. Junk. Jun—" He stops suddenly, looking at a carefully folded leaflet, with the Sigil of the Horde stamped in rubber, sealing the paper. Opening the leaflet, he scans the page, reading:
Champions of the Horde, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner calls for your aid!
Grand Warlock, Vician Trannyth, has been lost to the Burning Legion, and the Dark Lady demands of his return; a task suited for you, Heroes of the Horde.
Heed the Banshee Queen's call and serve directly on her Majesty's service; for you shall be richly rewarded!
If you seek to answer the Dark Lady's call, report to the Undercity at once!
"Hot damn," Kaxet exclaims, "Richly rewarded for a simply deliver mission?!" He folds the leaflet, stuffing it into his waist-coat pocket. "And from none other than the Dark Lady!"
"I'd love to have 'reward' from her," one of the other goblin's day, earning a perverse chuckle from the room.
Taking a puff from his cigar, Kaxet hops down from his chair, "Well, Gentlemen, I'm off to 'serve' the Dark Lady." He chuckles as the leaves the room.
Ororan Lonesnarl sneers, cleaving an Alliance soldier in two, while his companion, Elkemin Winddreamer blasts several others with her lightening strikes. The two young adventures, seeking to earn Glory for the Horde, are traveling deep into the heart of Alliance territory, slaying those who engage them in battle. Raising his battle axe, Ororan brings it down, cleaning off a Human's head.
Once the Alliance scum are dead, Elkemin brightens up, and chirps happily to her Orc friend, "Did you see that, Ororan? I was all like 'Grr' and they were all like 'Rwr' and then I shot 'em with my lightening, and they were all like 'Oh no, we're dead'," she sighs smiling, "it was great." Ororan just gives her a pointed look.
"Awe, such a sour-puss; you know, I should teach you to speak one of these days," she says, giving him a mocking glare.
Ororan rolls his eyes and lifts his head, pointing to the claw marks on his neck.
Elkemin bites her lip, "Oops, I keep forgetting that you had your vocal cords ripped out when you were younger; sorry Ororan." She bows her head in shame. Ororan shakes his head and pats the top of hers.
Slinging his axe onto his shoulder, the pair continues to walk down the road, heading through the lovely Alliance dust-bowl that is Westfall, with Elkemin chirping happily into Ororan's ear. Until, that is, when Ororan stepped onto several scattered papers, when Elkemin—a devout shaman of the Earthmother—starts to gather the papers. "Who would litter the ground of Our Earthmother? That really grinds my gears, Ororan!" She says to Ororan who just rolls his eyes in response.
Gathering the papers, Elkemin begins to shift through them, "Farming manifests, Shipping cargo," she blushes a deeper red, "Several . . . rather lusty letters from Goldshire." Ororan rolls his eyes at the mention of Goldshire; he would happily work with the Alliance to blast that hell-spawn off of the face of Azeroth. "Hey, Ororan, look at this," Elkemin says suddenly, motioning him over.
Stepping closer to Elkemin, he looks over her shoulder at the leaflet she is holding; the one with the Horde Sigil in the corner. It reads:
Champions of the Horde, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner calls for your aid!
Grand Warlock, Vician Trannyth, has been lost to the Burning Legion, and the Dark Lady demands of his return; a task suited for you, Heroes of the Horde.
Heed the Banshee Queen's call and serve directly on her Majesty's service; for you shall be richly rewarded!
If you seek to answer the Dark Lady's call, report to the Undercity at once!
"Ororan," Elkemin exclaims, "this could be our chance to serve the Horde! And, to be honest, I was getting tired of the squishy humans and their horrible, little towns like," she shudders, "Goldshire." Ororan nods his head, agreeing with her.
Bouncing on her feet, she looks at Ororan, "So, can we please go and assist the Dark Lady? I would love to see the Undercity in all its glory, after that whole nasty incident with the Wrathgate." Ororan shrugs his shoulders as if to say, 'why not?' Elkemin squeals with glee, taking his hand in hers, and leading him out of dusty Westfall and towards damp Tirisfal Glades, to serve on the Banshee Queen's service.
Uraz'Do squats, looking out over the water of the Echo Isles, reading through the letter from the Undercity, which reads:
Champions of the Horde, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner calls for your aid!
Grand Warlock, Vician Trannyth, has been lost to the Burning Legion, and the Dark Lady demands of his return; a task suited for you, Heroes of the Horde.
Heed the Banshee Queen's call and serve directly on her Majesty's service; for you shall be richly rewarded!
If you seek to answer the Dark Lady's call, report to the Undercity at once!
Uraz'Do shakes his head, unbelieving of the Forsaken lies, "De is not to be trusted," he mutters to himself, "De caused Wrathgate." He crumples the paper into a ball, thinking on what to do. A voice from behind startles him.
"De be part of de Horde." Uraz'Do turns around quickly, to see Vol'jin striding up to him.
"Vol'jin," Uraz'Do nods to his leader, "You see this?" He opens his palm to show the crumbled letter.
"De letter? Ya mon," he responds, cracking a smile. "I'd be the one, who sent it to ya."
"Why?" Uraz'Do asks, confused.
"I'd be not trusting Sylvanas and her Forsaken, but de be part of the Horde, and she be calling for aid. That warlock of hers, Trannyth, he helped reclaim the Echo Isles."
"He did?" Uraz'Do asks, not believing a Forsaken would help them.
"Ya mon, he did," Vol'jin says, smiling at the memory, "and we have a debt to pay, not to Sylvanas, but to him." Vol'jin takes the crumpled paper and begins to unfold it, handing it back to Uraz'Do, "So, remember mon, do not be trustin' the Forsaken, trust that de be part of the Horde, and we swore to serve ; despite what Garrosh might be doin'."
Uraz'Do takes the paper and folds it gently into his pouch, nodding back to Vol'jin, "Thanks be to ya mon," before he squares his shoulders and heads off towards the Undercity, concerned that his is going to serve the Dark Lady.
"That ogre headed buffoon!" Sylvanas screeches, pacing back and forth before Kalira, who pinches the bridge of her nose. She sent out the letter to the Warchief a month ago and not a single response has returned; and, more importantly, very few of the leaflets have been seen at all. "I wanted our cities covered in the leaflets, and he barely printed a hundred!?" Sylvanas takes a priceless vase from the days before the Forsaken and throws it into the wall, smashing it to a thousand pieces.
Kalira opens her mouth, to try and calm down her Queen, but Sylvanas beats her to the punch, "And why has he done this? To spite me! The misogynistic cowardly ogre dares to attack the thing I care about most, because he is afraid of me?" Sylvanas runs her hands through her hair in frustration, gripping it hard, threatening to tear her hair out.
A knock at the door calls Kalira's attention. Tibarn Bonefever and the succubus, Rili, stand on the other side. "What is it? I'm a little busy right now," Kalira hisses at the pair.
Tibarn holds out one of the leaflets, "I wanted to serve on her Majesty's service, and get richly rewarded," he said with stars in his eyes.
Rili rolls her eyes, "And since I was summoned by him," she says, jerking her thumb to Tibarn, "I will also serve the Dark Lady, but to reunite her with my Master."
Kalira sighs, "Fine, just . . . wait out there," she says, before she closes the door, turning to Sylvanas, "My Lady," she begins.
"And Thrall put him there!' Sylvanas says, screeching again, "Idiotic Orcs replacing each other. Well, Garrosh can suck of Thrall's Doomhammer for I care!"
"My Lady," Kalira attempts to interrupt again, when there is another knock at the door. Opening it a crack, she sees seven figures, milling around. A blood elf, a goblin, a tauren, an orc, a troll, Tibarn, and Rili, who runs over to her, smiling a large smile.
"It looks like the leaflets reach a few," she says about the people behind her, "we are all here to serve the Dark Lady, if she'll have us."
Kalira blinks, holding up a hand, "Let me try and calm her down; just a sec." She closes the door and turns to face Sylvanas again.
"That idiotic ogre has so many daddy issues, it's unbelievable! Well, he can take those issues of his and shove them right up his—"
"My Lady!" Kalira nearly screeches at Sylvanas, silencing her Queen. Both women pant slightly from the screaming. Kalira swallows, and motions towards the door, "The Heroes of the Horde are here to serve, My Lady," she says in a calmer tone.
Sylvanas blinks, her mouth agape, "so, the leaflets worked?"
Kalira smiles and nods, stepping closer to her Queen, "Yes, it looks like it is so, it just needed some time," she reaches out to slide her fingers through her Queen's hair, a gesture that calms Sylvanas.
Closing her eyes, Sylvanas leans into Kalira's touch, sighing as the tension begins to unravel. "I enjoy it when you do this," Sylvanas mutters softly.
"Hm, do what? Yell at you?" Kalira asks softly, slowly combing her fingers through Sylvanas's hair, "Or comb your hair?"
Sylvanas smirks, calming her breath, "A little of both," her smirk grows, hearing Kalira chuckle behind her.
Kalira runs her hands slowly from Sylvanas's hair to her shoulders, gently kneading out the tension. She hands work gently on her Queen and soon, she begins to send them down Sylvanas's back. When her hands touch the small of her back, earning a slight gasp from her Queen, Kalira pulls her hands back, mentally scolding herself. "Th-the Heroes are waiting, My Lady," Kalira says to Sylvanas, coming around to the side.
Opening her eyes, she nods at Kalira, taking her hand and smiling gently. "Thank you, Kalira," she says.
Kalira smiles, rubbing Sylvanas's hand with her thumb, "I exist to serve, My Lady," she says, finding Sylvanas's eyes. The both stay like this for the longest time, as they each scan down to their conjoined hands, back up to their beautiful faces. Kalira is the first to pull from Sylvanas, heading towards the door, mentally scolding herself.
Sylvanas bites her lower lip, her eyes scanning the body of the ranger walking towards the door, her mind a jumble and flurry of emotions. She too, mentally scolds herself, not for feeling the way she does, but for what those feelings could mean. Sighing, Sylvanas straightens up, donning the mask of a cold exterior, to protect her feeling heart.