Vignettes
5/12
Talaada was a little bit scared, but she had no reason to believe anything bad would happen. The orcs were not the violent monsters from the old stories; when there weren’t demons around, orcs were nice. As nice as her own people, at least, which wasn’t very nice anymore. She started to get nervous again, but not scared. She could go out and talk to the scout if she wanted to; she was sure of it. But did she really want to?
She did, she decided. Bismark, the Beautiful One, the Prophet, thought it was important. She trusted his judgment, but wondered at his reasoning. Somehow talking to Mosu and becoming friends could make her better at communicating. It was practice. But why did it have to be with this strange orc? Why not someone else like Lividia; she was sure he had more companions she could meet. Many more.
She went hunting first, capturing one of the jaguars that lived near the road. Orcs liked meat and hunting, right? She would probably have more success if she let Mosu know she was a good hunter. She tried approaching as one of the “clean” draenei that her people had once been. Hopefully that would get a better response.
It earned her curiosity, at least; when Mosu found the small camp on the side of the road where she was butchering and skinning the cat, she approached cautiously and asked her, in orcish, who she was and what her business was. Talaada was shocked to find that she could speak orcish now, but assumed it was a gift from Bismark to aid her in her task.
“I am Talaada, of the Draenei. Recently healed by the power of Love. Would you care for some meat? I have too much here to carry.” She didn’t really; even without Bismark’s inventory she knew how to pack up one small kill efficiently, but it was important to make someone feel comfortable accepting your gifts.
“Draenei? You look nothing like the Draenei I have seen.”
Ooh, ooh! Talaada could do this! “We have recently been blessed with the presence of a great healer, one who cleansed my body of fel taint and returned to me the strength and wisdom of my ancestors.” Orcs liked ancestors, right? “You will see more like me soon enough I’m sure. Would you like to walk and talk? I haven’t spoken to many orcs.” Her heart was beating fast, but Mosu was curious about Bismark’s teachings and many blessings. She could talk about those all day.
As it turned out Mosu was not *that* curious about the Brotherhood of Love and Beauty. She turned the conversation around to the local landscape, hunting spots, and the civil war among Talaada’s people. All very practical topics, and ones Talaada knew at least a bit about. They parted civilly, but Talaada didn’t know if she’d made a good impression. At least she didn’t think she’d offended the orc girl, even if Talaada had ended up doing most of the talking. That was a good start, right?
••••••••••
“Now then, I have a firm grasp on it, you need to finish him off.” The murloc was currently staring up at Ursula’s succubus with dumbfounded wonder, ignoring its imminent death completely. Drusilla shrugged and did as ordered, rapidly incinerating the fish man.
Ursula’s teaching methods were a bit crude, but Drusilla was learning enough to make it worth the effort. Simply channeling fel magic for destruction was the simplest art that a warlock could learn, and certainly Drusilla’s favorite, but it was not the only one. Warlocks learned many forbidden magics; right now she was being taught how to manipulate souls. In truth it was more a case of assisting Ursula in the act of harvesting soul shards for her own use, but she stopped to demonstrate reasonably often. She seemed nervous and eager, like she desperately wanted Drusilla to like her.
Soul shards were an incredibly powerful reagent; they could substitute for almost any other spell components that a warlock might need, and had a nearly indefinite shelf life. The process of getting them was also reasonably simple; grab hold of a living creature’s soul by linking it to yours, and rip a piece off. A single shard was a surprisingly minor amount, fairly easy for an individual to grow back if they survived, but many didn’t survive because the most expedient way to ensure a usable soul shard is to tear one away as the soul left the body.
Linking to someone’s soul had other uses of course; a warlock could donate or siphon off vital or mental energy. Only demons could properly process pure energy absorbed in this way, but a warlock who had properly been using fel magic long enough would become more demonic as time passed, making them better able to absorb the energy in large quantities.
Ursula had been surprisingly accommodating, outfitting Drusilla with fine travel clothing and a gown for attending court. She’d been waited on by a few extremely discreet servants that didn’t object to demonology in the manor. Most surprisingly, she’d almost immediately took the teaching process seriously and been receptive to Drusilla’s preferences. She’d been coached on how to focus her flames into small flashes of intense, searing pain. It could kill far more swiftly than the basic immolation spell she relied upon. She’d also learned a somewhat inaccurate spell called rain of fire. It summoned waves of burning stones and explosive fireballs in a large area of effect; useful if you don’t care exactly who in the crowd gets hurt.
All she needed to do now was learn how to craft magic stones from soul shards and she could return to Erich with Ursula in tow and her head held high. In the meantime she wondered if she could convince Ursula to move her hunting trips to Redridge; surely a few Lion patrols would do a bit better with a pair of powerful warlocks, even if those warlocks were primarily focused on gathering souls rather than the actual fighting.
••••••••••
I spent some time with Lividia in my new apartment. I was in no hurry to leave, and I spent surprisingly little time fucking for a man with a harem of beautiful brainwashed women. She cuddled in close while we laid together on the new bed. I held her, occasionally giving her a playful grope. She seemed happy enough that way.
I had a thought. “I’m going to be enslaving your mother tomorrow. Does that bother you at all?”
“Why would it? She may be more powerful than me but I am your prime consort.”
“Yeah but she is your mother.”
“Yes, and? I’m sure she will serve you well but I will outdo her at every opportunity outside of raw power or political acumen. And those, I’ll eventually catch up. No need to worry about that.” She even managed to sound smug about it. She was absolutely certain of the security of her position. I was a bit sentimental and I liked her, so she was probably even right.I was a bit turned on by the combination of utter subservience and arrogance, and she was very receptive when I pulled out my cock.
"Would you like to take care of this?”
A grin crept across her face. "Yes, my king! I would love to.”She slurped down the length of my cock, sucking me off. She was putting in the work to earn the title of prime consort. My cock swelled up quickly, and I let her have her fun. I was in no hurry to cum, and she seemed to enjoy the act itself as much as the treat at the end. She went slowly, savoring the act of submission itself. Eventually, I gave Lividia her just reward, which she lapped up eagerly. It was a nice little break, but I get restless these days if I’m not constantly working. It wasn’t a complicated plan, but I was ready to go to Stormwind and have another go at Bartleby.