A Standup Philosopher
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Vincit Qui Se Vincit Chapter Five
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Bronze Barbarian: L. Baccus
Iron Intellectuals: CyberCrisis, Hunter
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Vincit Qui Se Vincit
Chapter Five
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Lorna Crowley, Heiress to the Northlands
The furious growl of my father, followed by the crumpling of paper and a slight surge in the strength of the fire, heralded the untimely death of yet another missive from King Greymane. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the missive had contained, given his reaction: no Gilnean was to render aid to the Kingdom of Lordaeron or admit its citizens to our homeland on the far side of the Greymane Wall. How easy for him to make that decree, safe in his Manor in the southern mountains, as deep into Gilneas as one could go. Not seeing the suffering, not risking the mobs and the riots of desperate people that continued to flood into the lands of my father. Oh, the Greymane Wall couldn’t be breached by any unorganized swarm of starving and unarmed civilians, but I didn’t doubt my own House and everyone loyal to it would not prove so invulnerable.
“Genn is a fool!” my father finally snarled aloud, rising from his desk armchair and staring out the window overlooking our holdings with his hands folded behind his back and a deep frown on his face. I ignored his arguably treasonous words with the ease of long practice and no small degree of agreement. As much as I adored Tess, and admired Queen Mia, Genn had continued to prove himself far to bitter and cowardly to rule our people properly. King Terenas had rejected his claims for wholesale butchery, and he had taken it as a personal affront, an insult to the suffering of Gilneas at the hands of the Orcish Horde. As if Gilneas had suffered anywhere near as our northern cousins and allies! Gilneas had never been besieged, safe behind the aegis represented by Dalaran’s might, but Lordaeron and the other human kingdoms had seen entire regions laid to waste. Quel’thalas, likewise, had suffered significant casualties fighting an enemy incapable of breaching their immutable border wards, yet ourKing embarrassed our entire kingdom with his childish behavior! Now, for the second time in a decade, the undead legions of the damned were ravaging the countryside, and we were expected to do nothing! “A king that refuses to act far behind me, and a desperate and starving pack of refugees at my very door. Tell me, daughter, what actions I should take?”
“I think that you were planning on revolting against Genn sooner or later anyway, father, for the harm he is doing to our kingdom and our people with his obsessive isolationism. The undead will not be stymied by the Wall forever, and once every other kingdom falls they will have a hundred times the population of Gilneas. They could stand on one another’s shoulders and scale the wall with sufficient numbers to sweep our army from the field in an instant.” I responded calmly, honestly, a small twinge of instinctive guilt for my own treason rising despite my firm belief in its necessity. The army of Gilneas, though highly-trained and well-equipped, was small compared to those of our allies. We certainly couldn’t field the numbers and variety of Terenas or Anestarian, and from the testimony of the refugees the mighty army of Lordaeron was in full flight.
I was going to continue, though what exactly I would have added I wasn’t sure, but the sound of loud and fairly urgent knocking on the door drew the attention of both of us. Without waiting for an answer, my father’s loyal guard captain swept into the room, shocking both of us. Vincent Hersham was a proud man and a loyal one, very much in tune with the trappings and ritual of serving a noble house such as ours, and doing something so rude and above his station as entering my father’s study without permission was unfathomable.
“Vincent…” my father started, frowning heavily at the man, but the other man continued to break from his normal behavior by cutting my father off with a brisk salute and hurried words.
“Lord Crowley, Miss Lorna, apologies for interrupting like this, but a woman claiming to be a member of the Dragonflights has arrived, accompanied by not only Princess Calia, but the Heiress Proudmoore of Kul Tiras and Archmage Modera of the Council of Six. They request your presence without delay, sir, with news of Lordaeron and more!”
My father and I stared at the man, and I am sure my jaw hung low, though of course my father was too self-controlled to gape so obviously as I was. The Dragonflights did not get involved in mortal affairs without due cause, and what they considered ‘due cause’ was usually in the vicinity of an oncoming apocalypse or some other direct threat to the survival of Azeroth as a whole. For one to be here, accompanied not just by Lordaeron’s Princess, but by one of the six most powerful mages in existence and the apprentice to Antonidas herself (who was, rumor had it, nearly powerful enough to be one of the Council herself despite her youth and inexperience, not to mention being Heiress to the throne of the greatest navy ever to sail the seas) meant that something was afoot. Something big.
“Lead me to them immediately, then. I’ll not keep a princess waiting, especially not if the rumors we’re hearing from her kingdom are true.” My father responded after a moment, grabbing his sheathed longsword from where it rested beside his seat and buckling it around his waist as he followed Vincent through the door with me on their heels. There was little time for thought and no time at all for conversation as we hurried through our keep, with such haste did we move, with servants and guards on more than one occasion having to clear our path in distinctly undignified manners. Polite apologies trailed in our wakes, in both directions, but there was no pause in our strides.
“Your Royal Highness, Lady Proudmoore, Honored Archmage, welcome to my home. I trust that you were all treated with every possible courtesy from the very moment of your arrival?” my father greeted my childhood playmates and the Archmage warmly and courtly, laying gentle and gallant kisses on the backs of hands. “You remember my Lorna, of course?”
“Yes. It’s been a few years since we saw one another last, of course, but I could never forget a childhood friend. It’s wonderful to see you again, Lorna.” Calia smiled at me brightly, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her genuine joy, not that I was trying particularly hard to be dour. “To think, once I see Tess, the four of us girls will finally be together once again.”
You had to bite your tongue on the instinctive joke about her brother, the rumors you’ve heard about what Arthas had done and was still in the midst of doing ringing in your ears. He was no longer the boy your best friend (and you still thought of Tess that way, no matter what issues you had with her father. Nothing would ever change that!) had almost been engaged too, before Terenas had finally opted to tie Kul Tiras closer to the Eastern Kingdoms. After all, you reflected with a slightly bitter twist of your mouth, Gilneas had already been a close and trusted friend to Lordaeron, no marriage was needed to keep that Alliance strong and eternal.
“You mean to head into Gilneas proper? Your Highness, I am not sure that you will find much aid coming from the homeland. I have received little enough aid simply in caring for your refugees, King Greymane will likely not support deploying our armies to help you defend your lands.” My father looked and sounded surprised enough that I was almost convinced that it was genuine, despite my knowledge otherwise. Similarly, his statement was met not with surprise or distress, but exasperated acknowledgment.
“I am aware of King Greymane’s desire to ignore everything outside his walls in the belief that nothing will happen to his inner kingdom so long as he doesn’t acknowledge its existence. Unfortunately for him, the dead don’t care for ‘neutrality’ and other such mortal foibles. His bitterness over the late King Teneras’ rejection of his genocidal demands was irritating before, but it now approaches criminal cowardice and treachery to his people.” The only woman I didn’t recognize on sight, which by simple logic of elimination meant she was the purported member of the Dragonflights, said bluntly from the back of the group as she stepped forward, the other four women parting before her like servants before a Queen. “The situation is untenable and his methods for handling it are both insufficient and unacceptable. Whatever he might imagine to be the case, the Scourge will not ignore so isolated and helpless a kingdom as your own. If any life wishes to survive on the whole of Azeroth, never mind the Eastern Kingdoms, a great Coalition must take to the field and crush the forces of the forces of the Lich King wherever they might be found.”
The gasps and murmurs that erupted from all those in earshot were loud by dint of the sheer number of them, despite their individually sotto voce nature. There was outrage over her condemnation of the king, of course, from Gilneans and listening Lordaeronian refugees both, but there was no small amount of agreement with her words on the Scourge. And wasn’t that a horrifying name, and one that was painfully accurate?
“What danger could a mindless mass of undead pose to the mighty Greymane Wall? It is the mightiest wall ever constructed, as tall as the mountain ranges that it connects! We can easily outlast any such horde until their bodies withered away to dust and bones.” A nearby land-owner, a wealthy and entirely too self-absorbed fool whose only use to my father was his cunning business sense and large tax revenue, scoffed in dismissal, only to fall silent and shaking as the still-unnamed female shot him a burning glare. Literally burning, as her eyes flashed a deep and seething orange-red, like that found in the embers of a fire’s heart, with serpentine pupils.
“These are no regular undead created by some half-trained necromancer trying to bring back their deceased lover. These are the Scourge, Raised into undeath by a Death Knight of the Lich King. An entity that has laid waste to the Nerubian Empire of Northrend and even now raises the bones of my cousins as his slaves. How will your wall fair against an entity that can bind the bones of the Dragonflights to his will, manling?” she growled lowly, and a I simultaneously quailed and stared in awe at the wisps of power that coiled around her as her ire rose. It was nothing my eyes could see, but rather was sensed by a primal part of me, which recognized there was something so much more than I was standing before me. “They do not decay, they will not tire or sleep or fall into disrepair. Their bone and sinew will rebound your weapons, your magics will find themselves weakened. This is a power not seen on Azeroth since last the Burning Legion roamed this world. The Horde, for all their fury, were mortal creatures. They could feel hunger, tiredness, love and loss. Their morale could be broken, their supply lines cut, their armies routed by strategy. Every soldier that falls to the Scourge rises as one of them, and you will find it more difficult than you can imagine to cut down a ghoul that was moments ago your daughter or son, your wife or husband, your mother or your father. This is the suffering, the nightmare that has been visited upon the Lordaeronian Crownlands, and it will not pass you by.”
The aura of anger and power grew with every word, though the dragoness’ voice never rose so much as a single decibel the entire time, until I was struggling not to fall to my knees in mingled terror, awe, and arousal. The picture that was beign painted for us was horrifying in the extreme, and for a moment I felt helpless despair. How could we beat something that could kill and command even the Dragonflights, those ancient guardians of Azeroth that were so far beyond our strength and understanding that we could barely comprehend their power and their purpose?
“My Lady, I ask you to not terrify my vassals into a failure of the heart. His words were spoken in ignorance and the fervor of a patriot, with intentions neither malicious nor callous.” My father stepped forward, tone and gestures placating as he waved said vassal away, and that burning gaze moved to meet the steady eyes of Lord Crowley. “Thank you. Now, look around yourself and see that I take a potential threat to our cousins to the north and my own people seriously. I have sent none of the Menethil’s subjects away, nor will I do so without due cause, but neither will I act precipitously. What would you have us do to avert this nightmare, as you put it, befalling Gilneas?”
“Abandon Ambermill and the rest of your lands. Take your civilians and the refugees behind the wall and begin recruiting anyone who can hold a weapon. You must provide no more fuel to the enemy, no more fodder to his armies. Then, you and your daughter will accompany us to the Palace in Gilneas City, and aid us in turning your countrymen against the enemy of us all.” She said bluntly, folding her arms and ignoring the outraged muttering from those around us as she ordered about a Lord in the seat of his power. Propriety and the trappings of the aristocratic culture in which we lived were strong influences, even in the face of a dragon, were strong influences indeed, it seemed.
“Were it so easy, Lady…?” my father said leadingly, and the woman introduced herself as Andraste. “Lady Andraste, but the fact of the matter is that the Gates of the Greymane Wall do not open on my word alone. Not in a matter such as this. I cannot compel the men who man it to obey my commands over those of their King.”
“The Gates will open, Lord Crowley. By the hands of their guards or those of my companions, I care little, but no man or woman will prevent me from carrying out the tasks required to save Azeroth.” Andraste flicked one hand in a motion of blatant dismissal to the very idea of allowing herself to be impeded in her mission, and I felt both admiring and concerned. A person of strong and unyielding convictions was incredibly attractive, especially in a culture such as ours, but I was equally wary of anything that smacked of zealotry. Fanatics, no matter how pure their cause or intentions, were often not only their own worst enemy, but prone to causing horrifying collateral damage in the pursuit of their crusade.
“I suppose that King Greymane could hardly be so unreasonable as to hold myself or the gate garrison responsible if we were compelled to compromise his orders with the demands of the Dragonflights, especially not when it is backed by such illustrious and powerful company.” My father mused slowly and carefully, a look of deep thought on his face that was at least three-quarters genuine. Nodding decisively, he looked to Vincent and myself. “Prepare the people to evacuate to the Homeland. They are to take only what they can carry, and we will move what we can of their other valuables to the Vaults, with my vow that such things will be returned to them after the current crisis is dealt with. Lorna, I’m putting you in charge of the logistics of supply. Vincent, send out riders and begin preparing the armory to transport. If we’re going to be putting militias into the field, I want them to be as well-equipped as possible.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Aye, Milord.”
“Calia, assist the young lady Crowley. Jaina, Modera, I want you to help lay protections on this Vault. I would not have those aiding our cause so readily suffer avoidable loss, nor am I interested in enriching any of the more enterprising members of the Cult of the Damned that are doubtlessly using this as an opportunity to gather materialistic wealth. Though what use they think it will serve if they succeed and turn all of Azeroth to undeath escapes me. The Scourge have little need for money, and I doubt the Lich King will be interested in a thriving economy.” The dragoness promptly added, as if she wasn’t giving orders to people that ruled or would rule nations, her tone rather sardonic and genuinely wondering at the end. I had to agree with both the supposition that rampant theft would be a danger, as well as the equally bizarre conclusion. But then, I didn’t much want to understand the minds of such people, because understanding them would imply that I was capable of thinking like them.
I wasn’t terribly fond of the idea or interested in testing the theory, oddly enough. Such people were for killing, not contemplation. Unless the contemplation was on how best to root them out and kill them, because even in Gilneas we had heard of the Cult of the Damned. If ever a group needed to be wiped from the face of this world, it was them. At least the Horde had only been interested in leaving us all properly dead, not defiling our corpses by turning them into meat-puppets for some demonic entity in Northrend.
“And you, Lady Andraste?” I couldn’t help but ask, and she regarded me with an almost predatory air about her that was as alluring as it was unnerving. This woman unsettled me like no one ever had, but I was attracted to her in spite of it…or, perhaps, because of it.
“I intend to lay waste to any Scourge encroaching on Southern Silverpine. The majority of Arthas’ thralls are chasing my Joan and the evacuees of the Crownlands and Northern Silverpine through the Eastweald, but he doubtless has sent no small force towards your own lands in an effort to assimilate them and keep Greymane’s Wall tightly shut. He won’t want to contend with what is left of the Royal Army, the Gilnean Royal Army, and the vast and powerful forces of Quel’thalas simultaneously. No, his greatest asset is the splintering of the Alliance.” She informed me, before giving a slight frown. “It is unfortunate that you cannot join me. A local guide who could help me locate places where natives to this area might hide and what game trails or minor routes the Scourge could be using would be helpful.”
“I would be happy to do that. The staff will be more than capable of coordinating the task my father set before me with Calia’s guidance, and you are quite right that someone from familiar with this area would be a boon to you.” I offered quickly, not entirely sure why I was suddenly so interested in spending time alone with the dragoness. Surely it was more than simple curiosity? It certainly felt like more than simple curiosity…
“Mmh, I think not. Your people need the comfort of the familiar that you represent. It wouldn’t do to cause them undue panic by presenting them with orders coming from unfamiliar faces. However, I would appreciate you joining me in a moment.” she refused my offer politely enough, before offering me her hand. I took it, somewhat confused, before gasping and blushing as she swept me into her arms and jumped. In a handful of heartbeats, we had made our way from the ground to the very peak of our keep’s tallest tower. I hadn’t even a moment to marvel at both the feat and the view before sharp teeth sank into my throat and I soaked my loincloth in cum with a cry of pleasurable pain. I clung to my mistress tightly as the world shifted around me, the colossal Sun of her presence filling my mind even as the lesser stars of my new sisters bloomed around us. The terminology was instinctual, natural, as was my recognition of who each of them was. Whispered greetings and happiness flowed my way through the mental bond which we now all shared, and I stared at my hand and flexed it slightly as knowledge followed it.
I could wield magic now, powerful magic. That was…handy.
“You aren’t just a member of the Dragonflights, are you? You’re a…a goddess.” I murmured after a moment, turning my eyes to the smiling face of my new owner, who gave an odd half-shake, half-nod in response.
“By the measure of this world, yes. I stand equal to Elune in raw power now, when in my draconic form. A few more treasures captured and I will be stronger still, if differently. Creation magics, the ability to will things into existence, will be mine. Just as you are.” She explained, and I shook my head in awe as I tried to parse through that. I was going to be the lover of a goddess, an actual deity that was equal to the Mother Moon herself, just like the ancient myths and legends. That was…kind of hot, actually. I’d never been a particularly submissive woman, unlike Calia and Jaina, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t curious on what being carried off and ravished would be like.
My mistress, sensing my thoughts, chuckled and kissed me briefly. Her own mind brushed against mine, and I pouted slightly at the revelation that any ravishing would have to wait. She really did need to clear out encroaching Scourge, and I really did need to carry out my father’s instructions. Well, I suppose the long build of arousal from anticipation and nervousness could be enjoyable as well. Good things cum to those who wait, right?
She chortled at that, kissing me again before leaping back to the ground. We landed as light as a feather and she set me on my feet, loudly thanking me for pointing out potential areas of interest before taking to the sky again and transforming in mid-air to a colossal black beast that swiftly winged its way north. Taking a deep breath to center myself, I set about organizing the evacuation with a steady hand and mind. It was amazing, this mental bond I now shared with my new-found sisters, their advice and knowledge flowing through my mind as my own flowed through theirs. None of us were approaching a problem alone, but collectively.
An invaluable boon, especially in situations such as this. That being said, the memories of being taken over and over again by our Mistress for hours on end that Calia was flooding the bond with were making keeping my outward cool difficult. I had known that my old playmate had a sense of humor, but I hadn’t known that it was this wicked.
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Tyrygosa
I looked like a whore, I knew, writhing around on the ground with three fingers as deep into my cunt as they could go and my other hand mauling my breast, but I didn’t give a damn. I sounded like one too, gasping and moaning mindless, babbling requests for ‘her’ to fuck me. I had no idea who ‘she’ was, or why I was fantasizing about her rather than dear Kalec, but ever since just before Calia Menethil had vanished from the Bronze Flight’s sight I had been enduring waves of pleasure and fighting an instinctual craving to travel to the Eastern Kingdoms. It was the only instinct I was dealing with right now, either, because it was very hard for me to remember that it was Kalecgos who I wanted to impregnate me rather than ‘her’. Every part of me was screamingthat she would give me the most powerful children of any being on Azeroth. Becoming her mate, the primal part of me insisted, would be the best decision I could ever make.
I came with a cry, a spray of clear and sweet-smelling fluid spraying out of me to stain the ground, my back arching like a bow to thrust breasts and crotch both to the sky. After a moment I fell limp, lying in an undignified puddle of my own cum and sweat and not caring in the least, panting heavily as the aftershocks rippled through me.
“Mmh, this is why I love taking mortal form.” I purred to myself after a long moment as I let myself enjoy the blissful feelings. I knew from the older female dragons that sex in dragon form wasn’t unpleasant, but compared to the sensitivity and creativity of the mortal races it wasn’t all that incredible either. Of course, thinking about my aunts and uncles made me think about my mission, which was a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, there went the good feelings and the lazy bliss. On the other hand, I was now reasonably sure that the origin of these sensations and the Aberration I was looking for were the same thing. It was an instinctual feeling (and wasn’t I having a lot of those right now), one that was pulling her towards the human Kingdom of Gilneas.
Pulling myself to my feet, I cleaned my body with a flicker of magic and regarded my surroundings contemplatively. I had just reached the western-most coast of the Eastern Kingdoms when the latest wave had hit me and sent me to the ground in a fit of lust, but it wouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours to reach the place where the Aberration had to be. Less if I really pushed myself, but I didn’t think there was much need for that.
Something tingled at the edge of my mind, and I spun around to face west even as I transformed into my true form and rocketed into the sky. Something at least as strong as I was approached, and I had no interest in being caught off-guard by a potential enemy. Though there was something about the presence that felt like…family, almost, but it was no member of the Blue Dragonflight that I recognized. As they drew closer, sapphire scales gleaming in the sunlight, I wondered if it was some manner of illusion. But how could it be? It would take very powerful magic to give someone the appearance of one of my kin, and magic that powerful would be as obvious as the sun and stars to a Guardian of Magic such as myself. Which meant that this really was a member of my Dragonflight that I had somehow never met.
“Greetings, sister! I am Tyrygosa, daughter of Malygos. Who are you, and why are you here?” I called out as the other dragoness decelerated and came to a halt in the air a few hundred yards away from me. She seemed as wary of me as I was of her, which was simultaneously reassuring and discomfiting.
“Greetings! I am Stellagosa of the Azurewing Repose, Grandaughter of Senegos, Son of Malygos.” the stranger responded, and I was so profoundly shocked I almost missed what she said next. “I have come seeking the origin of strange waves that are causing a stir amongst us. Emanations of great power, originating from somewhere near here. I assume you have come for the same reason?”
“There is more to it than that. Join me on the ground.” I responded faintly, mind whirling, before following my own instructions and setting down. A moment later, the both of us were in our mortal forms (both Quel’dorei, I noticed. A popular choice amongst most of the Dragonflights, with the Bronze, Red, and Blue all choosing it. The Black preferred humans and the Greens Kal’dorei) and awkwardly regarding one another. Taking a deep and steadying breathe, I addressed her again. “It’s incredible to know that the Children of Senegos still live. Father was sure that your grandfather and his entire brood had died during the war against Deathwing.”
“We nearly did. Only my grandfather escaped from his particular wing during the battle, but he was badly injured. He returned to my grandmother, who had been left behind to watch over their small hatchery. They gathered what eggs they could and fled to Azsuna, in the Broken Isles. From there, they-we-have been rebuilding our numbers in order to continue the duties of the Blue Dragonflight if it should prove necessary.” Stellagosa responded solemnly, and I nodded in understanding. That made sense, even if I thought that perhaps they could have at least told father his oldest son still lived. After Mother’s death, that would have done a great deal to improve his mood and lighten his heart. “Now, what did you mean about there being more to it?”
“The Bronze Dragonflight recently began encountering difficulties with mapping the history of certain important mortals. It wasn’t that the mortals were killed, but the Bronze could no longer see anything of their lives. Their births, their entire lives, their futures…all of it was gone, and the lives of countless other mortals have changed drastically. The Aspects agreed an investigation was needed and chose me to investigate the origin of these changes…who just so happens to be the origin of the strange ‘waves’ you mentioned as well.”
The other Princess of the Blues sat back on rocked back on her heels slightly, startled and even worried look on her face before she frowned in deep contemplation. I could certainly understand all of that, because I had nearly paniced when I had heard that something capable of subverting the sight and the influence of the Guardians of Time was now roaming Azeroth. That spoke of powerful magic, magic equal to or greater than that of the Aspects and the strongest servants of the Burning Legion. Nothing of that power was likely to be benevolent, not since the Titans had left and their Keepers had withdrawn to slumber in their citadels.
“And these waves, they are causing…reactions…?” Stellagosa asked after a long moment of contemplation, which was actually somewhat surprising. I would have thought at least a little more conversation about the potential apocalyptic threat to Azeroth was warranted, but…
“If you’re asking whether or not the waves of power are causing me to be unbearably horny almost constantly and to lose control of my lust whenever another one hits, then the answer is yes. I’m pretty sure they’re affecting my Aunts as well, because they seemed remarkably interested in my mission, and not just for the concerns posed to Azeroth’s safety.” I responded bluntly, silently amused by the fluorescent blush that swept over my cousin’s face. She must not spend a lot of time with mortals if that was enough to get a reaction from her, or she spent time with mortals that were so high-brow and repressed they didn’t even know what the other gender looked like naked. Either way, this was going to be very entertaining for me. “So, you going to head back to your Grandfather, or will you be heading south with me?”
“I am reluctant to leave Grandfather for too long…” she started, sounding terribly unsure of how she was going to finish her sentence, when the decision was taken out of both our hands by another wave of power emanating from Gilneas. I staggered with a low moan of arousal, basking in the sensation even as I felt a surge of frustration with how it was interfering with my ability to function. Stellagosa, however, obviously hadn’t experienced the waves as often or as strongly as I had, because she collapsed to her knees with an orgasmic wail. Eyes rolling back into her head, both hands dropped to her crotch, and I could see (and smell, by the Titans!) that she had just soaked her dress in cum.
I waited for a long moment to see if she would recover, before sighing in fond exasperation and slinging her unconscious body onto my back as I shifted into my natural shape, taking to the skies once more and winging my way south. It seemed my cousin had lived a very sheltered life indeed, the poor thing. Well, at least she wouldn’t be able to challenge my position with my mate. For that matter, I could offer her to my mate as a gift, couldn’t I? That would encourage them to claim us all the quicker, to breed us as soon as possible. The thought sent a heavy, heady, dangerous thrill through me, and I poured on the speed.
For the briefest moment I wondered when I had started thinking of a total stranger as my mate over Kalecgos, but it was a thought quickly banished. I was to be bred by something greater, something beyond and above. I had no time for a drake that fled at the sight of me.
I will be with you soon. I vowed to the distant presence as I passed the smouldering ruins of Lordaeron, sparing barely a glance for the once mighty mortal kingdom. The Lich King, the Undead, the fate of mortals…none if it matter, now, and never would it matter again unless my mate decreed it so.
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I figured that the wards around The Broken Isles and Azurewing Repose would probably deaden the effects of Andraste’s Aura somewhat. Enough to give wet dreams and fantasies and to tempt Stellagosa out, but not enough to make her actively masturbate or cum on the spot. Thus, when Andraste Claimed Lorna, she was struck full-force at very short range.
I will admit that Stellagosa and Tyrygosa meeting up here wasn’t planned, it just kind of developed naturally, but with the close proximity of Lordaeron to the Broken Isles, it seemed to make sense that a Blue Princess like Stellagosa would investigate. However, no Nightborne waifu will be showing up anytime soon, as they are both more isolationist and more…hmm, let’s say ‘refined’ than Stellagose. Less in-tune with baser instincts, like the desire to be bred.
Next chapter will be probably shine a very large spotlight on sweet Joan as she does epic things like purging the undead with the kind of holy power Azeroth doesn’t get to see. Paladins ain’t got shit on a Heroic Spirit devoted to Yahweh.
