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Making Friends + Happy Birthday Remix

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The Arrangement

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Lor’Themar worked tirelessly from the command tent, trying to mobilize his forces and prepare what ships he could spare. The report had only come in that morning about the Alliance fleet making landfall near the northern edge of Tirisfal Glades, and without reinforcements, the Undercity would surely fall.

“This is madness.” He yelled, “Once they are done sacking that hell-hole, we will be next!” he spoke through gritted teeth, throwing the report down to the floor. As it hit the ground, a sudden flash overwhelmed Lor’Themar. He blinked, trying to refocus his vision into the dark room ahead of him. As the haze began to lift, a familiar woman now stood before him.
“Greetings, Lor’Themar.”

“Proudmoore…” he snarled, taking his sword by the hilt, “If you have come to spirit me away to some prison, I won’t go without a fight.”
Jaina clenched her fist around her staff, “No, I came here for a favor.”

Lor’Themar loosened his hilt, shock turning to curiosity, “A favor?”

Jaina leaned onto the table, making sure to put her staff far enough away to put the elf at ease. “As you likely know, Anduin has begun the siege of the Undercity. I knew you would prepare reinforcements. I want you to stop. Stay here in Quel’Thalas, and let that stinking wretch fall.”

Lor’Themar laughed, “Are you serious?”. Jaina shook her head, “I wouldn’t be here, putting myself at risk, if I wasn’t.”

“You ask me to commit treason.” Lor’Themar scolded, shifting his weight back to his chair, “Coming from you of all people, the one that imprisoned the Sunreavers for giving aid to the Horde. How hypocritical…”

Jaina sighed, “I promise that if you do this for me, the Alliance will not invade Silvermoon. We will leave you alone.”

Lor’Themar rubbed his chin before narrowing his eyes on the arch-mage, “A promise is meaningless. Leave this place, or try to attack me, I have too much work to do for these distractions.” Lor’Themar replied with a bitter annoyance.

Jaina grew frustrated, but as she began to lift her staff and prepare to flee, another idea crossed her mind. Though it pained her to consider it, she decided to attempt one more gambit.

“Tell me, Lor’Themar, how do you feel living in the shadow of Prince Kael’thas?” the arch-mage said boldly, the elf once again looking up from his maps with great annoyance, “How dare you…”
Lor’Themar once again reached for his blade, but Jaina continued, “What if I offer something Kael’thas always desired, something he ached for daily, but that was denied to him? You would have a taste of something that even your fallen prince never had.”

Lor’Themar raised a brow, “Go on.”

Jaina hesitated, “I speak, of course, of myself.”

Lor’Themar once again narrowed his gaze. He had heard rumors of the former quel’dorei prince and his utter infatuation with the human mage, back when she was but an apprentice. “Are you offering…” he began to ask, before hesitating himself. Jaina nodded, “Just… this once.”

Lor’Themar thought it over, a smile crossing his face, “How interesting. So my people get left off the kill list, and I get a night with Kael’s former crush? I might be willing to hit a few… unforseen snags in my preparation.”

Jaina winced, “How long will this give me?” she said sheepishly. Lor’Themar laughed, “For as long as you can keep me entertained this night.”
Jaina had a great urge to back out of the deal, but she knew it was the only way to assure the High King’s victory. “So be it.”

Lor’Themar nodded, before moving to the other side of the table and coming up close to the arch-mage. With a quick grab, he took her staff and threw it to the ground, before grabbing her by the hips and throwing her upon his command table. She looked away from him as he began to unbuckle her corset, “Take as long as you want, but please, don’t tell anyone…”

With another laugh, the elven ranger thought to himself, “Oh, Aethas is going to get a real kick out of this…”


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The moons were high over the forests of Ashenvale, the cool winds twisting branch and leaf, as it howled like a cry from the heavens. On the weathered road, a lone figure hurried into the brush, her nightsaber navigating the dark with incredible grace. “Hold” she whispered, as the two descended upon a darkened abode.
As the figure removed her cowl and dismounted her companion, her armor glistened under the lunar light, it’s maintained coating marred by scratches from many past battles. As she pushed open the door, a grand banner caught her attention, it’s ornate stitching bringing a smile to her worn face.

“Shan’dala Moonrise, General of the Vigil, Lady of the Vale. May her natural talents and beauty bring great pride to our people.” – High Priestess Tyrande

As Shan’dala looked over the gift with pride, her other senses flared, something felt amiss. While she expected no lanterns to be lit, the smell of sweat and dirt filled her nostrils. She looked through the darkness, some scraps of elven armor hanging precariously from various decorations. “Shanara?” she called out, “Your mother is home. I know you are here.”

“Mom!” came a shout from the balcony above, Shanara leaning hard on a nearby bookshelf, a sheet crossing her body from side to side, “I… I thought you were on mission for another week.” she said nervously. Shan’dala narrowed her eyes, “I could say the same about you, young one. Were you not on mission to the eastern edge? The orcs have been bold as of late, and yet here I find you…”

Shanara gulped.

“… indulging lazily in my finest silk sheets! Such disappointment.”

Shanara twisted, her arms to her sides and her gaze cross, “I will have you know, that issue was resolved peacefully, but i’m sorry I didn’t live up to your hopes, like so many of your other students.”

Shan’dala closed her fist and motioned her hand, “Silence, child! You worked out the eastern incursion peacefully? With savage, disgusting orcs!? At least your sense of humor is still sharp, unlike this blade.” She said as she picked up the glaive from the floor, running her finger along the edge and cutting herself lightly without so much as a wince.

Shanara’s face turned red, as her cheeks puffed up in frustration, but before she could say anything, a sudden sound came from the open doorway pulling both of their attention. “General Shan’dala?” a cloaked kaldorei scout called, trying to shield himself from the still howling winds, “The High Priestess has called you for a gravely important mission. We must leave at once!”

Shan’dala smirked as she turned and looked back up to her daughter, who was now leaning on the upper rail curiously. “What about my daughter?” the biting mother asked, but Shanara could see in her mother’s eyes that the answer was already known. “You have a daughter?” he returned, confused.

Shan’dala laughed as she flicked her wrist, commanding the scout to leave the abode. “Do you not see, Shanara. As Sentinels, we are made by our names. Respect is our creed.” she continued as she turned back towards the door, “You can ride on my name and accomplishments for only so long, child. It’s about time you woke up.”

And with that, she was gone.

Shanara leaned for a few more moments on the railing, her nails sinking deep into the wood. “Goddess… give me strength…” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

“Huh… should I go?” came a sudden voice from behind her.

Shanara giggled gently as she turned around, the toothy maw of her guest sticking up from his hiding place on the other side of her mother’s bed. “No way, Grok, you are my guest.” she purred, trying to reassure him. “I get that, but your mother seems to hate…” he said, before pausing in thought.

“Does it matter?” Shanara interjected, making sure to wistfully allow the silk sheet to fall from her body, giving Grok the now familiar view of her soft skin and suple curves. Grok could feel his erection screaming back with a vengeance.

Shanara climbed onto her mother’s bed, reaching down and grabbing the orc by his beard, pulling him gently back on top of her, “Now then, how about we continue…”

As Grok felt his cock once again slide slow and deep into his new acquaintance, her pussy dripping with yearning, “Now I get it…” he whispered, Shanara’s bright eyes peering up into his own, “Oh?” she questioned back, her lips quivering as he began to slowly thrust, “Why you picked me. Why you picked this bed. These sheets… I’m… revenge.”

Shanara moved her hands onto the orcs chest, caressing him gently as she bit her lip in reaction to his movements, “Ma.. maybe a bit.”

Grok pushed in closer, using his fingers to massage Shanara’s ears gently, much to her vocal enjoyment.

“I guess I can live with that….”

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