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Chronicles of Lazdormu(IC closed for Sinister Spiders)

King Arthas Menethil

Arthas grinned inwardly as Sylvanas eagarly lapped away at Illyna's mound. She drunk in his seed like it was the only thing sustaining her and when she took his member back in her mouth he knew she had lost her will to fight. She was his.

Unlike his former self the release he'd just experience would have rendered him useless for the rest of the night but his knew power meant that he became regained full hardness within Sylvanas' mouth within a few short moments. As much as Arthas enjoyed watching his enemy reduced to whimpering slave he still had more to give her.

He placed one of his hands under Sylvanas' chin and lifted her head to look at him. Though some of the defiance remained in her eyes the look of desperation far out stripped it. The moist sheen of combined juices coated her lips and chin making her all the more ravenous.

"I think it would be nice to share some of that with Illyna don't you think? Give her a kiss and make sure she can taste it all General."
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

Arthas provided Sylanas with an unintended kindness. He was asking her to kiss her lover, to provide the woman with comfort and love in such a graceless place. Sylvanas got shakily to her feet. As she did she felt the coolness of the room touching her damp thighs and womanhood, and she realised just how aroused she was. She'd never been so wet before in her life. She could feel the moistness of her arousal coating her nether lips, sliding over her thighs, and settling in the crack of her rear end. There was so much there that she wondered whether Arthas had also released his seed within her somehow.

Arthas had asked Sylvanas to kiss Illyna, and she would, but she'd also take some liberties that she hoped he would allow her. Instead of stalking around and lowering herself to the level of the bed, she lifted her knees and sat astride Illyna. She leaned over, pressing a kiss against Illyna's stomach before trailing passionate pecks over the damaged skin of her stomach. She went further, tickling and pleasing each delicious breast with her tongue. Illyna's skin was hot and damp from her treatment, and Sylvanas lapped it all up as she moved ever upward. She then could imagine that they were alone, at home, on her canopied bed.

It reached the point where Sylvanas was no longer kneeling over Illyna, but lying on top of her. Their bodies were pressed together, breasts rising and falling in complementary synchronicity. Sylvanas's legs were spread over Illyna's leaving her lower regions exposed to the drafty room, sending tingles of cold shivering through her body. As their mouths finally collided she felt a small moan of appreciation vibrating against her lips. Illyna apparently enjoyed the taste as much as Sylvanas had.

Throwing all caution away Sylvanas slipped one hand beneath Illyna's head to bring her closer, filling their kiss with all of the passion and love that blasted away the darkness of this place. She began to grind herself against Illyna in a desperate attempt for pleasure, and she took a deep breath, taking deep comfort in the scent of her lover.
 
King Arthas Menethil

Arthas slid out from underneath Illyna as Sylvanas climbed on top. She far out did his command and he thoroughly enjoyed the show they were putting on. Even though he kept Illyna in a state of unconsciousness she was still able to react passively to Sylvanas' ministrations.

Arthas stood back a moment to admire the two female forms rubbing against each other, even a normal man would find himself semi-hard again. Arthas on the other hand brought himself back to full attention. He moved to the tail end of the kissing lovers and made sure he had the best angle to perv on their naked forms.

Sylvanas seemed to have forgotten about him, she was bent over completely with her womanhood and arse open and available. Even in the dull lighting he could see the moist glint of her sexual arousal leaking from her slit. It was an invitation he could not resist.

Arthas climbed onto the bed frame using the edges to support his legs. With his cock in hand he slid the tip up and down Sylvanas' juicy slit. Arthas made sure the magical connection was reestablished and ensure that Illyna would feel the same too. He teased Sylvana's entrance; never fully going in only dipping in and out to build the lubrication he needed. When he'd gotten whathe needed Arthas poised the tip of his hard angry member at the puckered star above her slit.

Before she had a chance to react he forced himself in. The apple lubrication her juices provided was enough for him to push three quarters of the way. One hand held onto Sylvanas' hip and the other held her neck down. He leaned in as close as the angle allowed him and whispered heatedly.

"Now fuck my cock with you arse and I guarantee you and Illyna will enjoy it."
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

Sylvanas could feel Arthas as he moved around behind her, she could sense his body drawing closer to hers, right up until the moment that he pressed his surprisingly hard member against her. She tried to ignore him though,s he was getting far too much from her time with Illyna to worry about him.

That was, of course, until he started running that tempting hardness up and down her moist slit. She couldn't help but moan into Illyna's lips as her own body finally got to taste some of the pleasure it had been denied. Though Arthas was still torturing her. He wouldn't dip into her, instead barely pressing his tip against her waiting entrance. As much as she hated him, she wanted to push back against him and feel the relief of being well and truly stretched by his girth.

Sylvanas knew she couldn't hope to control Arthas' actions and, with the disappointment of knowing that her torture was far from over, she resigned herself to remaining passive. Even though he had spilled his seed, he was apparently far from sated.

Sylvanas continued her loving exploration of Illyna's body, feeling comfort in the familiar heat and smell of her skin. If it wasn't for Arthas behind her she would close her eyes and imagine they were elsewhere. She could tell that Illyna was also privy to the feelings; her body writing and panting as she tried to push against the phantom cock.

But Arthas was behind her. He was pressing himself against her entrance. He was making his presence known with little subtlety. That was until he slipped. At first Sylvanas had a split second to process the feeling of his tip against her rear entrance, thinking it was a mistake. Then, he plunged into her.

Sylvanas' cry of agony pierced through the room, rebounding off the walls and filling her ears with the sound of her pain. She fell forward so that her rear was in the air and her face was pushed into the bed beside Illyna's head. She was about to prop herself back up, but felt one of Arthas' hand pushing her head down forcefully, the other holding her hips in place. His fingers dug into the skin of her hip and neck and she whimpered as she struggled uselessly against him.

"Now fuck my cock with you arse and I guarantee you and Illyna will enjoy it."

Sylvanas wanted to argue, she wanted to throw him back off her and strangle him as she rode out an elusive orgasm.

But she couldn't. She was trapped; held in place by his hands and impaled by his cock in the most delicate of places.

"You said you'd leave her alone!" Sylvanas grunted through pants as she struggled to regulate her breathing.

For a few moments she remained still, knowing that she had no choice but to follow his demands. At least he allowed her that time to adjust to his side. She knew he wouldn't wait long though, and pushed her hips back with a cry, accommodating the rest of him within her arse. Once more she had to wait as tears sprung to her eyes, her rear burning at the violent invasion.

"Just leave her be and I'll do anything."

Her promise was spoken as she pulled almost all the way off him. She them slammed back against him with another scream. Below her, she could hear Illyna's cry of pain, her Lover whimpering and trying to escape the torture that ARthas and Sylvanas were forcing onto her.

After a few more thrusts, something odd started to happening. The burning pain was overshadowed by a growing throbbing, a growing desire. She could feel it mounting as she fucked Arthas as he demanded. Her womanhood was pulsating angrily at it's own lack of fulfilment, but her clitoris did not care either way. Despite the pain of fullness and agony of emptiness, her body was still aroused. The build up of the dozens of denied orgasms rushed back and hit her with a force that made her moan. She wanted to orgasm, she needed to, and with Arthas behind her and Illyna beneath her, she hoped that he would soon reward her with what she really needed.
 
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King Arthas Menethil

Arthas nearly underestimated the powerful thrust of Sylvanas' hips. He had to strengthen his grip on her as her tight rear canal forced his overly large member inside. The tightness around his cock was perfect, his grunts of pleasure called out in time with theirs and Sylvanas rutted her little arse on his monster.

As soon as she established a solid rhythm Arthas magically summoned the two crystals again. This time he directed one inside Sylvanas' pussy and the other on her clit. Even though the crystal wasn't nearly as thick as he it made her even fuller. He set the one on her clit to maximum vibration while the other pumped in time with her own gyrations.

It wasn't long before the two of them reached the pinnacle again, Arthas pulled the crystal away from Slyvanas' clit. He laughed at her angry growl of frustration.

"If you want to cum, you'll need to beg me General." he taunted. To make sure she understood he put the crystals back in and continued his torture.
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

The vibrating fullness that Arthas added to her desolate channel set her on fire. Her body started to thrum in time with the crystals on her private parts. She tried to forget that it was that was behind her, she tried to imagine that it was one of her old lovers penetrating her now. The orgasm rose higher and higher, sweeping her away on gale force winds. She was so high, raised above the peaks of all of her failed orgasms, raised above the world below, waiting for a free fall into another world.

And then she got stuck, suspended, hovering so far above the world of pleasure that waited below. Arthas' voice broke through; a rude interruption to the grunts and moans of pleasure.

"I will never beg!" Sylvanas grunted, even as she continued to ride him.

She felt as though some sort of madness had overtaken her; her mind still held tight to a sliver of resistance while her body struggled for any pleasure it could get.

Then the build up was destroyed. Her fall back to reality was one where she crashed to the ground with all the grace of a dropped plate.

Frustrated with her complete lack of control, Sylvanas decided to do the only thing she could in that instance (short of begging) and stopped moving all together. She knew it would end in punishment, but it was a last desperate stand that she had to make. If it worked that was good, but she knew it would fail and when it did...
 
King Arthas Menethil

Arthas didn't expect her to resist so strongly. The aggressive way she fucked his manhood with her arse fooled him into thinking he'd won her over completely. He would teach his slave a lesson, one she would never forget. He was the master.

Arthas would no longer give her the option of pace and depth. He pounded her arse to the hilt everytime never giving her any reprieve between strokes. Arthas increased the vibrations on the crystals bringing them closer to their peak much faster and harder ensuring that each time they fell short it was painful.

Each time they were denied Arthas commanded his minions to whip and cane the both of them for a short time before he resumed his violent rutting. Red welts were beginning to form on their porcelain skin and he no longer cared to remove the connection between them, the pain they would feel would be doubly strong and he knew Sylvanas would eventually crack.
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

Sylvanas didn't think that she would come to regret her resistance as much as she did. She had expected the caning, she thought that their might be some hard fucking, she even suspected more orgasm denial. She underestimated all of it. She underestimated the shame of being whipped by his decrepit minions, the pain of so many missed orgasms as he tore into her repeatedly. Worse still, feeling Illyna's pain through the link. Once more her rebellion had only made things worse for her. Part of Sylvanas wanted to kill Arthas for his treatment of her, but a more sinister part of her wanted to kill herself for it.

All of those thoughts were brief and fleeting snatches that Sylvanas managed to hold on to between strokes of the cane or after a burst of hard fucking. Outside of those fleeting moments she struggled to comprehend anything other than her desperate need.

It was ravenous and consuming.

Coupled with Illyna's similar feelings, the emotions involved were more intense than anything Sylvanas had ever felt. Tears of anger, frustration and need where forced from the corners of her tightly clenched eyes as she screamed through the void of another abandoned orgasm.

Then, predictably, the caning began. Her's and Illyna's skin was already so tender from the punishment of the day that it was agony. After that, the hard rutting felt like a balm to her soul. The build up was the pleasure of healing.

This time, after countless denials, Sylvanas had to beg. The idea of the freefall away from desire coupled with the caning was too much for her. She couldn't bare to feel that again, she couldn't bring herself to allow Illyna to be punished with her.

"Please," Sylvanas breathed as the pleasure began to build again. She felt Arthas's strong body pumping into her, her own pleasure mimicked through the link to her lover. "Please!" The second time was louder, but it still sounded weak compared to the roar of blood through her ears.
 
King Arthas Menethil

Her whimper was music to his ears, Arthas laughed maniacally.

"Good little Ranger-General. Make sure you thank me for your reward."

He thrust his cock into her once again and this time he allowed the magical crystals to finish their work. When they finally reached the peak he allowed them not only the release of one climax but every single one they had missed. He felt her rear tunnel tighten around him like a vice as the first wave rushed over. When the second came he slipped out of her arse, removed the crystal and pushed into her soaking pussy.

He realished in the way her womanhood pulsed around him. As her second faded he re angled himself and worked his way into Illyna's pussy for the third and her arse for the forth. Each time a new climax started he found a new hole to enjoy each time more satisfying than the first.
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

The world around her ceased to exist. All Sylvanas could comprehend was the ebb and flow of a seemingly endless chain of orgasms. There was so much pleasure, too much. It consumed her, it consumed Illyna, it burned them both until they were screaming for more, screaming for it to end. It was as if each and every orgasm she had been denied had come back to haunt her with a vengance. It was beautiful and it was terrible. Even as she begged for it to stop, she knew that life would be plain without that pleasure.
 
King Arthas Menethil

As the two of them approached the final two orgasms Arthas pulled himself out of Sylvanas' arse with a wet flop. He edged his way around to their front halves to fed each of their gaping mouths with his well used cock, Illyna whimpered around his hardness whilst Sylvanas tried in vain not to moan with pleasure around him. As the last and final climax stuck home he pulled out and stroked his cock to bring himself to a final release.

After the intense build up it was a welcome relief; jets of hot milky seed erupted from his rod, Arthas made sure to spray each elf with a healthy amount of his manly essence. His new found body made it possible to unleash a tidal wave on the exhausted pair covering their faces and breasts thoroughly . Leaning forward Arthas used his cock like a paint brush and rubbed his cum from around Illyna's face into her mouth, she automattically suckled on his rod fondly still buzzing from the high of sexual ecstasy. Sylvanas wasn't as receptive but by this point he was just happy shoving his manhood deep into her mouth making sure she cleaned him off nicely.

When he was completely satisfied Arthas stepped back to admire his master piece. The sheen of cum on their skin reflected in the candle light some of it dripped slowly from Sylvanas' breast onto Illyna's. Though most of Illyna's face was clean the tell tale remnants still hung around her mouth Sylvanas had a trail of his seed running through the curls of her hair. Just the way he liked it.

There was one last thing left to do. He reached over to Illyna and touched her forehead breaking the spell of unconsciousness.
 
Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner

Sylvanas was too distracted to completely cmoprehend what was happening. When Arthas had his cock in Illyna's mouth it took Sylvanas a while to realise that it wasn't in her own. Before she found the ability to revolt against it, the swollen member had been unmercifully shoved down her throat as she struggled through her another orgasm. She tried to scream but instead found herself gagging, struggling for breath as tears sprung to her eyes.

Then he withdrew and she managed to gasp as the final orgasm, the strongest of all, rocked her very soul. The hot wet splat of his thick cum against her face and breasts added an insidious level of extra pleasure and embarassment to her climax, and by the time she came crashing back into reality tears of shame were falling freely from her eyes. He ran his cock over Illyna's mouth and lips and she licked it eagerly, as if it was a healing potion and she was a dying woman. He then pushed the softening appendage against Sylvanas' lips. She tried to resist but he was too strong, and she was forced to suffer the indignity of his dirty and used cock in her mouth.

When Arthas pulled away she was unable to look at him. Instead she looked down to see that Illyna's face was still shining with his seed. The sight was too much. Her entire body shook with repressed sobs and she struggled to transfer her weight to one side of her body so she could clear the streams of seed off her Lover's face. However Arthas got there first.

The moment Arthas' hand made contact with Illyna's forehead, the High Elf's startling blue eyes popped open.

At first there was a look of complete and utter disorientation.

"Illyna," Sylvanas breathed in awe. Illyna's eyes snapped to her own and then changed.

Arthas' maniacal laughter echoed through the room and made Sylvanas cringe.

"Sylvanas!" Illyna gasped as recollection flooded into every fiber of her being. Sylvanas could see the horror and shame of what had just happened as it tore Illyna's soul.

Once more Arthas' hand touched Illyna's forehead. Sylvanas could feel the vitality of life as it was sucked out of her lover. She felt her own breath knocked out of her as she stared into Illyna's lifeless eyes; fully of horror and shame even in death.

"NO!" Sylvanas howled, her voice an unearthly lament in the unfriendly room. Her anger and frustration tore through her throat as her mouring cry continued.

Arthas reached out and pressed his hand against Sylvanas' cum slicked face, and she no longer had the heart to resist him as he plucked her very soul from her body.
 
Lazdormu - Entry 8

Time: 25 years after the first war

Location: Kalimdor

Subjects: Jaina Proudmore, Thrall

Summary: After Arthas turned his back on the Alliance Jaina had little choice but to trust the prophet and take her forces across the sea to the uncharted lands of Kalimdor.

After freeing the remainder of his people in the Eastern Kingdoms the newly appointed Warcheif Thrall decided to follow the prophets advice and sail across the sea to the land of Kalimdor where he could make a new home for he and his people.

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Warchief Thrall

Thrall rode his ebony Direwolf through mountain with much trepidation. They had been in the land of Kalimdor for months now and though they'd had there fair share of trial and tribulations the oracle was close.

The Tauren Warchief Caine Bloodhoof praised he and his breathren for freeing them from the centaur and together their people would share the land to forge a mighty people. The Horde.

Unfortunately nothing came without cost, it seemed that the alliance had decided to settle on their new homeland even now he and his troops and fought several human encampments on their way to the Stonetalon mountains.

Even though his weary soldiers relished in the idea of real combat compared to the centaur and pig-men the human soldier were much more evenly matched in combat and thus more difficult to beat. Thrall decided that fighting the alliance was only a distraction and ordered his warriors to use the native goblin zeppelins to get to the stone talon pass.

Grom told him of a human sorceress that led the humans, he was worried that the humans would reach the Oracle first and that could not happen as they crossed the final barrier Cairne and his small contingent of troops they were intercepted by the humans. The Sorceress was at the head, she bore the colours of the alliance and sported a low cowl covering her face.

"Prepare for battle!" He called to his troops. Just as they were about to engage the humans. A loud booming voice called out.

"STOP!" Standing on a small pedestal ahead stood a elderly looking man wearing an earthly looking robe. Thrall recognised him as the prophet of his dreams. It seemed that the human leader also recognised him and both he and her approached the fortune teller. The prophet introduced the sorceress as Jaina Proudmore and he was not prepared for what he saw when she lowered her hood. He knew her, they met many months ago under a completely different pretense.
 
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Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina was pushing her troops hard and she knew it. The only thing that she knew was that she had to make it to the Oracle, and she had to do it before the Orcs. For a long while she had known that they'd been hot on her trail; then they lost the tell tale signs of being followed. She hoped it was because something had befallen them and they'd lagged behind.

As the sun shone brightly above the peaks of the Stonetalon mountains Jaina received some fantastic news that brightened the beautiful day even further.

"There is a path through the mountains," the scout relayed, puffing heavily between gulps of his drink. "The entrance is in cave just to the north of here. If we go through there we will cut through and come out the other side. It will put us right where we need to be."

"And the way is clear?" Jaina asked. She didn't need to though, she could tell by the scout's excitement that he had found a golden path below that peak.

"Yes. It was when I passed back through," despite his excitement he had chosen his words carefully. He wasn't guaranteeing that it would still be clear, but he clearly had hope.

The news saw the spirits of her people soar. The race through this strange land had been difficult for them, and this short cut brought them even closer to their goal.

With smiles on their faces and hope in their hearts they changed course for the path through the mountain.

~*~

It appeared that spirits could fall as quickly as they could rise. All it took was one look at the orcs and the mood in Jaina's troops.

A loud braying echoed through the chambers and Jaina saw a contingent of Orcs beside some of the strange new cow-man creatures they'd encountered in this land. With shouts from the orcs and more braying from the shaggy beasts, the enemies raised their weapons and charged.

“Orcs, I knew we were being followed. Defend yourselves!” Jaina cried, raising her hands. With less than a moment of concentration her hands were glowing, wreathed in power that she prepared to unleash against their foes.


“STOP!" With a blinding flash and a foreign cry both sides of the battle were pushed back, dazed, to behold a tall man in billowing brown robes between them. Jaina's mouth popped open in surprise as she took in the form of the very prophet they were seeking.

Through the stars in her vision, through the confusion of the moment, Jaina could see a familiar face. His leathery green skin and tusks were at odds with his compassionate eyes. He stood, weapons ready, and she knew he didn't recognize her.

In the midst of the chaos Jaina threw her cowl back and shook out her golden hair. If his army came at her she would fight them; but there was nothing that would make her fight him. Her mind cast back to her arrival on this continent, and she felt strange relief at the sight of her Orc.
 
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Many months ago.

Never in his life had Thrall experienced such turmoil. The seas around them crashed into their ship without avail. Already he had seen of one their boats go down to the unrelenting power of the maelstrom. As he assisted his crew in securing the mast he reflected on his decision.

The crazy old man who called himself the prophet told him of a dire future, one in which not only his people but all others in Azeroth would suffer. Others would have scoffed at such claims and even he found it difficult to believe but something about the stranger called to him, it was as if something deep inside pulled him toward the destiny that was proclaimed.

Now as the storm raged around them Thrall was beginning to regret his decision, his people had suffered enough, first at the hands of the Burning Legion, then under the slavery of the humans and now in a storm. He may not have been responsible for the first two problems but the most recent was most certainly all his.

Despite their years of solitude the Orcs rallied to him when called. Even in the face of death they fought on, the determination in their eyes spurred him on and so Thrall fought. He fought for himself, his people and more importantly the future, for if the prophet was indeed correct this storm was nothing compared to what lay in the new land. Kalimdor.

Suddenly an almighty crack hit the deck. A fire erupted and despite the tides of the ocean washing over it quickly went out of control. Their main mast caught a blaze and he watched with horror as it collapsed onto the ship. His crew were trying in vain to put the flames out but it was no use. Even Thrall's new found power over the elements could not quell the flames.

"We must abandon ship! All crew to the life rafts." He commanded. His crew responded immediately and began evacuating their sinking ship. In the distance he could see Grom Hellscream's Frigate still plowing its way through the ocean with Grom at the bow scream a battle cry into the heavens. The mentor he'd always respected never gave up and never surrendered, if only Thrall had even half the courage of the older orc they wouldn't be here. They would have stayed in the Eastern Kingdoms and fought for land. It was too late now and even Grom followed his Warchief to the death.

Thrall instructed his crew to remove their armor for fear of falling into the water and drowning. Thrall did the same and assisted the last of his crew into the last life raft, as he was about to enter himself one of the secondary masts began to fall onto their position. There was not time, Thrall summoned a wind and pushed the boat into the ocean without him. He narrowly avoided the falling log of wood and fell into the sea. The ocean filled his lungs and the storm deafened his ears, he had barely enough time to cast a simple water breathing spell on himself before the world around him faded to black.

In his dreams he was haunted with images he didn't understand. Horrific creatures plagued the lands of the only home he knew. Fire consumed everything and he could taste death in the air. Only a soft but deep voice kept him from falling apart.

"You have been chosen great Warchief. You have the power to prevent this." The voice was familar, it was the essentric prophet speaking into his mind.

"We are lost, all my people have drowned and it is my fault!" He cried back.

"Do not despair Warchief all is not lost. Do not give up." The voice faded into the background.

Images of places he'd never been flashed into his mind. Untamed lands coarse and harsh, free and open. Faces of people he'd never met pointy ears, dark skin and a human, a female. He could barely make out her face, she spoke to him calling his name.

"Thrall."

Without warning his mind snapped back to reality. The first thing he felt was pain, everything hurt. The next sensation was the warmth of something on his face, at first he thought the fire from the ship was burning him but when he strained his eyes open the midday sun invaded his eyes. With great effort he managed to pull himself into a seated position to garner a better look at his surrounding. It seemed he'd washed up on the shore, pieces of his broken boat lay strewn around the area but there was no sign of anybody else. He was alone.

Thrall picked himself off the sandy shore and gather what strength he had. If there were others from his crew alive then he needed to find them. He travelled north up the beach for what felt like hours. Part of him was thankful that he'd taken his armor off, the sun pelted down upon his green skin burning like hellfire. Another part was worried, he was in a foreign land with no weapon or protection, his underclothes were already torn and ripped offering no protection at all.

He was about to turn back around when something caught his eye. As he got closer he began to make out the outline of a person but he stopped a few metres short.

A human.

It looked as if it had washed up on the shore like him. Their clothes were tattered and it was face down, likely to be dead. Thrall had spent many of his early years as a slave under humans, though he held no hate for them he knew it would be wise to be cautious. He bent down and picked up some flotsam to use as a weapon. With one hand he reached out to push the human over. He was surprised to see the human was female, her soft features and figure didn't look at all menacing.

Thrall placed his hand on her chest, he called to the spirits to ascertain her condition. Wounded but still alive. He should of left the flimsy human to the crows but something about her called to him, Thrall was used to hearing the spirits guiding him through the air, water and fire but never had it been so strong. Thrall grunted loudly, his men would have to wait. He dropped his makeshift weapon and hoisted the woman out of the water. She was light and he was easily able to place her on his shoulder.

The spirits warned him that another storm was approaching so he looked in land for some shelter, he found a cave nearby and placed the girl on the cold floor. In his weakened state he didn't have enough energy to fully heal her but he could lessen her more serious injuries. With his hand over body he summoned the healing spirit of nature.
 
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Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Many months ago...

All of Jaina's life was on display for her, moments floating through the deep black of her consciousness. The vague sense of pain was cocooning her, yet in her disengaged state she failed to associate it with herself. Instead was the strange wash of sound, her heartbeat thrumming, her blood rushing up upon the shore of her life.

Her childhood was right along side her early adulthood, her infancy contrasted with her latest life experiences. There were things that she thought she'd forgotten, memories that she didn't know were her own. Permeating the void between these flashes were feelings... Hope. Determination. Despair.

Her latest memory came back to haunt her most frequently. In the timeless expanse of her unconsciousness, the sight of her ship sinking into the maelstrom was strong and heavy. It weighed upon her with the heaviness that could only truly come with being responsible for the loss of innocent life.

She had led them across the sea. She had led them straight to their doom. She didn't know if anyone would have survived the storm. She didn't know if she had survived. She certainly didn't feel like herself. She knew that some part of her still existed, but she didn't know if she was being. In an unprecedented moment of clarity, she wondered if this was what was meant by one's consciousness returning to the universe. She felt as if she existed everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And then something changed.

A comforting warmth surrounded the darkness. A sense of light started to pierce through the blackness, rays of blinding brightness burning away the ambivalent sense of being.

It felt good. Very good.

With a deep breath of shock, her eyes snapping open, Jaina was pulled back into consciousness.

Her first instinct was to panic.

Above her, hands placed obliviously over the swell of her breasts, his strange energy channeling into her body. His heavy ivory tusks and mint hued skin was glinting with a light sheen of sweat in the dankness of what looked to be a dark cave.

Their eyes made contact and her breath caught in her throat. For a moment she was convinced that he was going to kill her. What Orc wouldn't take the opportunity to kill a prone human?

But the energy he was channeling into her was far from hostile. It was pleasant, healing, and terribly warm.

"Wh-" She tried to finishing the simple words, her quest for answers, but her voice caught in her throat and it felt as though she was trying to speak through a well used scabbard.
 
Warchief Thrall

When the human woke Thrall kept his movements steady and as passive as he could. The piercing blue of her irises were wide with shock and rightly so, in his current state he probably looked like he was either going to kill her or take advantage of her.

"Stay calm, I will not harm you. Try not to move, your injuries are still quite serious." It was difficult to keep the harsh gruffness of his voice away but being an orc made it especially challenging.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

The Orc's voice, while still husky, was oddly comforting. As Jaina looked into his almost black eyes she found something odd there. Kindness. It was something she had never associated with his kind. It was only after this shock that she realized he had spoken to her in common.

She obeyed his command though, not seeing any other option. He was right. She could feel her body coming back to her. The tingling turning into aches and pain, her head swimming as it settled into being once more. He remained steadfast in the energy transfer, and despite the strangeness of the magic Jaina knew it was healing her.

"Wh-ere am I?" Jaina managed to breath, although it felt as though her throat and lungs were on fire.
 
Warchief Thrall

Her voice was still croaky but he was glad she had enough strength to speak. He finished the spell with what remained of his magic, in his current condition it would take some time to replenish. He'd managed to stabilise the bleeding but with her broken bones she wouldn't be able to do much for a while.

"I believe we are on the shores of Kalimdor, though I can't be too sure considering I have been shipwrecked here. How about you?." Thrall was very interested to know where she was from he was almost certain that human's hadn't settled in the western lands.
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina let out a soft sight of disappointment when the spell ended. She immediately felt bad about that natural response; the orc's posture dropped slightly as he pulled away from her, clearly worn out by the spell.

"Shipwrecked- I think." Jaina struggled to speak through her parched throat. "I remember seeing my ship sinking. T-that's it."

She looked around, thankful for the darkness of the cave. It was a simple hovel, the entrance not far away, though enough to shelter them from the rain that sluicing through the warm air outside. The wind was howling by their shelter, but she felt very little of the impact save for a cooling breeze that flirted with her drying hair. Her eyes fell upon the orc once more to see that he most certainly did look like a shipwreck survivor. His simple linen cloths were torn and salt stained, barely keeping together to cover his clearly muscular body. He wasn't large for an orc, but Jaina knew that he was huge compared to her. She wondered if healing her would have used enough magic to exhaust him. She wondered if she would be able to escape while he slept. Perhaps her own magic would return before his replenished.

"H-ave you any w-water please?" Jaina croaked. She tried to sit up but found that it made her head spin. Pain shot up to her chest from her right leg, and she looked down. She tried to wiggle her toes but they were numb to her, her leg aching with the effort. With a grimace she realized that it was probably broken, by the feel of it just below the knee. It would take time to heal, and even more time to restore to it's previous level of use.

That certainly put a stopper in her escape plans.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall quickly placed a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, as a slave he would have been whipped for such an action and his reflexes caused him to pull back again. Unlike most of his kind Thrall didn't hate humans; in fact he was raised by a human family. It wasn't until recently that he discovered the truth of his past, a past that encouraged him to break free from slavery and make his place in the world.

"Try not to move. I will try to gather some water from outside." He explained.

He slowly made his way to the entrance of the cave, he spent so much time worrying about the human he'd forgotten that he'd also been injured, luckily for him it wasn't as debilitating. When he got to the mouth of the cave he squinted his eyes in an attempt to see through the haze of the rain, the temperature had dropped significantly and the wind howled like a wolf to the moon. Even though his magic was mostly depleted he had enough to guide the water droplet falling into his palms. When he'd gotten as much as he could Thrall made his way back to the girl. He knelt down in front over her and offered his cupped hands to her mouth.

"Here drink."
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina froze when the orc put his large warm hand on her bare shoulder. She reached deep within herself to assess her magical stores, but he pulled away quickly. It was a strange action; an attempt to comfort withdrawn by propriety.

"You speak common well," Jaina commented as the strange orc turned and made for the entrance to the cave. She didn't try and move again, deciding that the orcs advice was valid. Her last attempt had proven that she was still quite injured; instead of wasting energy on fruitless attempts to save herself, she knew she needed to go with the flow. That was when she noticed that her saviour was also injured. There were a range of cuts and bruises forming on his green skin. It made Jaina wonder once more at his healing of her; the fact that he was injured and he had spent all of his magic on her was mind boggling.

When the orc turned around his hands were cupped in front of his muscular chest tenderly, almost as if he were an enthralled toddler holding a newborn kitten. He made his way over slowly, taking care not to lose a drop of water cupped in his hands. He knelt down in front of her with ease and held his cupped hands out to her.

"Thank you," Jaina whispered with a truly grateful smile before she leaned forward. She pressed her mouth against his hands and swallowed the tepid water, sighing in relief as it soothed her parched throat.

Jaina was careful to not consume too much water. She knew from experience that it would make her sick if she over indulged. When she pulled away she thanked the orc once more. She put a hand on his, an attempt to make sure he knew that she was truly thankful for the kindness. She didn't know if it would last, or what his intentions were, but if that was all he had for her it was more than enough.

"Have you been wrecked here long?" Jaina asked, taking solace in the relative ease of speaking now that she'd had something to drink.
 
Warchief Thrall

Thrall appreciated the soft contact of her small hands on his much larger ones, it wasn't often that a human showed him anything other than disgust. In fact there was only one other human that ever showed him kindness, her name was Taretha Foxton. This young girl in front of him shared many similarities, slim build with light skin, soft features and a kind face, almost everything apart from the eyes. While Taretha had warm welcoming eyes the girl in front of him sported azure blue laced with the spark of intelligence.

When she asked about his own situation Thrall took a moment to drink the remainder of the water in his hands and gather his wits. Though he wasn't a paranoid orc by nature, someone in his position should be careful with what he revealed. In the end he decided to tell only a half truth.

"I've only just arrived like you. I was a slave travelling with others like me to this land. Where are you from? "
 
Lady Jaina Proudmoore

Jaina watched the orc as he spoke, trying to discern the truth in his words. He had skirted around an y reference to where he was from or what his purpose was, but she didn't blame him. She would have done the same in his situation. In fact, she decided she was going to.

"I'm a... let's just say I'm a seasoned sailor." When she first trailed off she looked away with guilt in her eyes, she hoped that he would assume she was a smuggler or trader. "I was working with a crew looking for new items to trade. I hale from Stranglethorn bay, grew up on the ocean."

Jaina looked around.

"Do you have any friends here?" She asked. If he wasn't alone she may well need to escape despite her injuries; she wasn't sure if she'd be lucky enough to find another orc as friendly as him.
 
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