For a number of days villagers near the base of a large mountain in Western Kalimdor were reporting strange sounds emanating from the crown. At night they could hear raucous cawing that would go on for hours and during the day, in the silhouette of the sun, large, winged creatures could be spotted flying to and from the summit.
Being a small village consisting of mostly farmers, they were too afraid to investigate the mountain proper and instead looked to adventurers to aid them. As luck would have it, a party of five returning from combat in Feralas found themselves passing through their humble settlement, and upon seeing the frightful looks in the villagers eyes, took up the cause with zeal.
Climbing up to the peak carefully, they caught their first glimpse of the creatures that had put the entire village on end. As they had anticipated, a tribe of harpies had taken this mountain for their new home. There was something very strange about these harpies, though. They were unlike any group they had ever seen, being of multiple colours and bearing different markings.
Approaching their roost with weapons drawn, ready to drive the bird-women from the mountain, they discovered an even stranger oddity. These harpies didn’t seem to be hostile in any way shape or form. Never before had they seen a harpy tribe not attack foreigners on sight. Looking around the modest clearing they spotted none of the telltale signs of a harpy roost. No remains of their victims, no skull totems and not even any despoiling of the environment.
Feeling rather bewildered, the party lowered their weapons and immediately upon doing so a white harpy with red markings on her face approached their night elf hunter affectionately. Trying to think of a way to greet the creature, the hunter was taken completely by surprise as the harpy got close to him and pulled down his leg-guards. Unable to contemplate a reaction, the hunter could only look on in total shock as she proceeded to take his member into her mouth.
The rest of his party were not quite as slow to react and realised straight away just exactly how friendly these harpies truly meant to be…
In an attempt to expedite her magical training, Saoirse heads to Dire Maul to see what secrets the Highborne have to offer…
As the Scourge continue their campaign of destruction across Azeroth, the Lich King sends his dreaded Val’kyr to deal with the gunships defending the skies of Stormwind.
Caught by surprise, the crews manage to put up a brave fight against their attackers before being ultimately overwhelmed. As the battle comes to a close, the Val’kyr set to work resurrecting their would be foes into the ranks of the undead.
They had found her skulking outside the Stormwind Keep on wet a summer’s evening. She’d been well armoured and had been eyeing up an important looking nobleman with a blade in her hand, ready to strike.
She had cut down the first four guards who’d tried to capture her with ease. The next four proved somewhat luckier, only suffering severe wounds as she had tried to make her escape, while another six got away with minor injuries. In the end it had taken almost an entire platoon to finally apprehend her.
Her armour and weapons removed, they marched her naked through the city streets. The Stockades were her eventual destination, though not her final one they thought. A guard killer would almost certainly face execution in their near future. But the soldiers escorting her had other ideas first. Taking a shortcut through Old Town, they found themselves on a deserted pathway that no longer saw much travel after Deathwing’s attack. The city slept while the guards had their fun.
The lieutenant had the privilege of taking her first, opting for her mouth as his port of call. His men looked on, like good soldiers they obeyed orders and waited their turn. By the turn of midnight, they had all had their way with her before finally handing her over to the gaolers.
But she had been patient, never crying out and taking everything and anything that the guards gave her, to their joy and their chagrin. None of them ever expected that she would escape the city later that night, or that not a single one of them would ever live to see the morrow…
The mage sighed as she looked over the books she’d borrowed from the Dalaran library.
“A frost mage” she said to herself. “I just had to be a frost mage.”
Saoirse had been trying and failing to summon a water elemental for hours and was making no progress whatsoever. None of the books she had picked out seemed to offer any answers.
“What am I, a shaman?” she cried after some time. “I don’t see fire mages summoning fire elementals! This is just a big waste of time.”
She was about to give up when she spotted on an old, worn and dusty tome labled ‘The True Applications of Frost Magic’. Opening it carefully, she went to the chapter regarding the summoning of elementals. The illustrations here were a great deal different from the other books, with one showing a water elemental and its master engaging in an act she couldn’t quite make out.
Figuring she had nothing left to lose, she copied the methods listed on the page and with an exertion of magical energy that nearly caused her to collapse she finally summoned her watery minion.
It hovered there in front of her exactly as she had envisioned it, with one exception. It had a large, green cock hanging from its base. Blushing, the mage crept towards it slowly, hoping it wasn’t hostile.
To make sure it was in fact hers to control, she ordered it to move to the left. It did. She ordered it to move to the right. It did.
She then realised what the illustrations were and with a jolt of courage she hadn’t thought was in her, she undressed herself and ordered it to fuck her right then and there. It obeyed without hesitation…
In an alternate universe, the Prince of Darkness proves victorious in the frozen wastes of Northrend, defeating the armies of the Alliance and the Horde and dismantling the Ashen Verdict once and for all.
While the Scourge sweep across the rest of Azeroth, destroying everything in their path, The Lich King personally sees to a select few individuals who would dare to defy him…
He awoke naked and shackled to the floor of a Silvermoon cell, cursing his own stupidity for allowing himself to be captured. His honour demanded that he fall upon his own sword before allowing himself into the hands of the enemy.
He wasn’t alone in his cell either. A lithe, red lipped and black-haired blood elf stood over him, smirking ever so slightly as he struggled against his manacles.
“You’re not a very good spy, are you?” she said.
Not willing to give her the satisfaction, he remained silent.
“Hiding out in the open and carrying a document with the symbol of Darnassus on it? It’s a wonder you made it to Eversong at all.” She tutted. “Well as you must have guessed, I’ve been sent here to question you.”
“You’ll get nothing from me.” was his reply. He cursed himself again, for breaking his silence so quickly.
“Oh, I think I will. They all reveal their secrets in the end.”
I’ve trained in resisting torture, he thought. If this shrew thinks I’ll submit so easily, she’s got another thing coming.
But she didn’t reach for any torture implements, nor did she even ask any more questions. Instead she began to remove her armour, piece by piece, revealing a perfect pair of breasts and a behind that would turn the most devout of priests against their vows. He could feel himself harden and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Perhaps he didn’t want to.
“I like to have some fun with my captives first.” she purred. “However long you last is how long you postpone the agony that is to come.”
As she mounted his cock, all hope of resisting left him. He knew he would never last as much as five minutes. All he could do was try to break free of his cuffs before he climaxed…