There was a ‘help wanted’ sign outside but it looks like somebody fumbled his words when asking for a job and a blow dry.
What events unfold when a stealthed rogue decides she has no interest in playing the objective?
This lasted approximately two weeks as there isn’t a single soul in the Alliance that cares to stop an attack on the Exodar.
It’s okay, though. The Draenei don’t mind.
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…
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…