Fhenrir
02-21-2008, 05:49 AM
(( Mature themes lie ahead. You've been warned!
Also, I ran this story by an unnamed entity that approved of it. So that means it's worth your valuable time! ))
Fhenrir grimaced, rolling his shoulders and rotating his neck casually. With a brief yawn he began to exit the arena - another long and exhausting match full of cliffhangers that ended with about 7 points gained in the tedious system of ranking he was clawing his way up.
“Another victory, another step closer to Gla-- grrk!” Fhenrir stopped suddenly, interrupted by a peculiar dart landing in his neck. He toppled to the ground in a heap, and everything went dark.
---
Fhenrir’s eyes drifted open slowly. He groggily looked around the room, quickly noticing a few other chairs that made him uncomfortable - each one was draped in the skeletal remains of a tauren, duct taped in rather compromising and unflattering positions. Gasping at the brutality of the sight, he yanked at his arms desperately. He let out a yelp of pain as tape pulled at his fur - he was quite sturdily secured to his own wooden chair.
The room around him was dank and he could hear water dripping. A single light was held from a small rope above him… was it a dead firefly tied up there? The light blinked every here and there, as though it would go out permanently at any moment.
“Ahaha… finally I have you to myself.” A disturbing female voice echoed from just out of Fhenrir’s sight. Slowly, a diminutive female figure emerged from what seemed like out of nowhere. Her ears were pointed and her eyes green - but that wasn’t what drew Fhenrir’s attention. She was covered with nothing but a lacy, suggestive black robe that hung open in the front. She walked towards him slowly, a gavel in her hand as she lightly smacked it against her palm and continued chuckling madly.
Fhenrir recognized her immediately, as soon as he brought his eyes back up to her face. “V… Villayna? What do you want with me?”
He asked, but he already knew the answer.
“That frigid old cow can’t come to save you here, Fhenrir. You’re mine now, and it’s time for your trial.” The elf in front of him cackled more loudly, and Fhenrir paused as he noticed her eyes drifting over him. He followed her eyes carefully down to himself where he suddenly gasped in shock as he realized that not only was he missing all of his plate, but his other clothes as well.
“What did you do with my arena shoulders, woman?! Do you know how much time it took to have those made?!”
“Relax, sweetie. The last thing you need to worry about now is your shoulders… let me worry about them.” She winked and drifted behind him, rubbing his shoulders suggestively as he squirmed in vain for his freedom.
“Unhand me! I’ll have you reported to your Lady Lia-whatever!”
“Hehe… “Lia-whatever”? It doesn’t sound like you’d have any idea who you’re even looking for… this also assumes I’m letting you go.” She teased as she slowly ran a hand over his shoulder and down his chest.
“I did not ask for this!”
“Ugh… it’s such a turn off when you talk.” Villayna rolled her eyes and lifted up her gavel.
“Huh?”
“Time for your trial!” She gloated and brought the hammer down onto his head harshly, knocking him out cold.
---
Fhenrir drifted back to consciousness eventually. He groaned at his headache, and in addition to being cold now he was unusually sticky. This situation had quickly gone from bad to worse… how was he supposed to explain this to Kaliera after he escaped? That their daughter might soon have a half-sibling with a blood elven mother? He’d been trapped in here for weeks now, and was taken advantage of almost daily - rarely ever while he was conscious.
A quiet giggling from just out of sight brought Fhenrir back to his more immediate concerns, and he quirked a brow as he listened to a muffled conversation from the floor above.
“And I want to gift you with a thousand ruby roses, and a chocolate covered rainbow, and maybe a few golden ponies! Eeee, and wait until I show you the diamond I got you! It only cost me three fingers and four thousand gold! Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Hehehe, Zuffid, you’re so charming! I would never hide anything from you.”
“That’s good, because my fragile heart would likely be crushed by the smallest little-”
“HAAAAALP! I’M IN THE BASEMENT!!”
Zuffid quirked a brow. “Did you hear that?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m sure it was nothing… I must have left a scrying orb on in the other room.”
“I’M NOT AN ORB! I’M A DAMN TAUREN, AND I’M TRAPPED DOWN HERE!!”
Zuffid had to pause for a moment and considered whether or not the noise was worth investigating. After looking to the floor, then to Villayna, then to the floor again, he decided that whatever it was could wait until he’d worked his romantic charms on Villy and quickly whisked her off to the bedroom.
---
It was another three minutes before Fhenrir heard a distant door open up and a set of footsteps start descending quietly. Before long, he found himself confronted by a blood elf that seemed incredibly unimpressive in appearance. His eyes were reddened and wet - he assumed the elf had been crying recently.
“Great… perhaps the male elf wants to have his way with me also?”
“Huh? Who are you, and what are you doing in my Buttercup’s basement at this time of the day Mister Tauren?”
Fhenrir sighed audibly. “You’re dating her. Even better. Listen buddy, that elf chick of yours is keeping me down here as a love slave. She rarely feeds me, and makes me do this horrible thing with my tongue… I’m only bathed as a source of enjoyment for her, and she’s only fed me enough to survive. You don’t want to know how I’ve been getting my necessary liquids.”
Zuffid was stupefied. He stood still for several moments, staring at him in shock. Slowly his eyes drifted over to dirty and stained lingerie that looked ruffled, and appeared to be a cheap imitation for a judge’s robe. There was also a bloody gavel nearby it.
Fhenrir saw where his eyes went and cringed. “You don’t want to know how many times she’s made me yell “Objection!” and “Take That!”… ugh, the memories.”
Zuffid couldn’t move. He was petrified in horror as the grotesque images probed his mind.
He was cut short suddenly as a loud crash came from behind and sent him toppling over. Villayna had smashed him over the head with a piece of elegant pottery. “Ugh… I didn’t wanna have to do that. He WAS good for a bit of flattery here and there. Oh well.”
Villayna shrugged.
“Hey, Fuzzy. Wanna help me bury the body? Then I can show you this new position I read about in Play Elf…”
---
Suddenly Zuffid’s eyes snapped open. He took a few quick breaths and looked around. Everything seemed to be normal… Villayna slept soundly at his side, and Fhenrir was nowhere to be seen. Slowly he wiped a cold sweat from his brow before rolling back over and returning an arm around Villayna.
“A dream… just a dream. Villy wouldn’t do anything like that.” Zuffid thought to himself as he began to fall asleep once more.
Villayna rolled over and moo’d suddenly, her eyes still closed and her silly grin indicating a dream of her own.
Zuffid’s eyes were wide open for the rest of the night.
Also, I ran this story by an unnamed entity that approved of it. So that means it's worth your valuable time! ))
Fhenrir grimaced, rolling his shoulders and rotating his neck casually. With a brief yawn he began to exit the arena - another long and exhausting match full of cliffhangers that ended with about 7 points gained in the tedious system of ranking he was clawing his way up.
“Another victory, another step closer to Gla-- grrk!” Fhenrir stopped suddenly, interrupted by a peculiar dart landing in his neck. He toppled to the ground in a heap, and everything went dark.
---
Fhenrir’s eyes drifted open slowly. He groggily looked around the room, quickly noticing a few other chairs that made him uncomfortable - each one was draped in the skeletal remains of a tauren, duct taped in rather compromising and unflattering positions. Gasping at the brutality of the sight, he yanked at his arms desperately. He let out a yelp of pain as tape pulled at his fur - he was quite sturdily secured to his own wooden chair.
The room around him was dank and he could hear water dripping. A single light was held from a small rope above him… was it a dead firefly tied up there? The light blinked every here and there, as though it would go out permanently at any moment.
“Ahaha… finally I have you to myself.” A disturbing female voice echoed from just out of Fhenrir’s sight. Slowly, a diminutive female figure emerged from what seemed like out of nowhere. Her ears were pointed and her eyes green - but that wasn’t what drew Fhenrir’s attention. She was covered with nothing but a lacy, suggestive black robe that hung open in the front. She walked towards him slowly, a gavel in her hand as she lightly smacked it against her palm and continued chuckling madly.
Fhenrir recognized her immediately, as soon as he brought his eyes back up to her face. “V… Villayna? What do you want with me?”
He asked, but he already knew the answer.
“That frigid old cow can’t come to save you here, Fhenrir. You’re mine now, and it’s time for your trial.” The elf in front of him cackled more loudly, and Fhenrir paused as he noticed her eyes drifting over him. He followed her eyes carefully down to himself where he suddenly gasped in shock as he realized that not only was he missing all of his plate, but his other clothes as well.
“What did you do with my arena shoulders, woman?! Do you know how much time it took to have those made?!”
“Relax, sweetie. The last thing you need to worry about now is your shoulders… let me worry about them.” She winked and drifted behind him, rubbing his shoulders suggestively as he squirmed in vain for his freedom.
“Unhand me! I’ll have you reported to your Lady Lia-whatever!”
“Hehe… “Lia-whatever”? It doesn’t sound like you’d have any idea who you’re even looking for… this also assumes I’m letting you go.” She teased as she slowly ran a hand over his shoulder and down his chest.
“I did not ask for this!”
“Ugh… it’s such a turn off when you talk.” Villayna rolled her eyes and lifted up her gavel.
“Huh?”
“Time for your trial!” She gloated and brought the hammer down onto his head harshly, knocking him out cold.
---
Fhenrir drifted back to consciousness eventually. He groaned at his headache, and in addition to being cold now he was unusually sticky. This situation had quickly gone from bad to worse… how was he supposed to explain this to Kaliera after he escaped? That their daughter might soon have a half-sibling with a blood elven mother? He’d been trapped in here for weeks now, and was taken advantage of almost daily - rarely ever while he was conscious.
A quiet giggling from just out of sight brought Fhenrir back to his more immediate concerns, and he quirked a brow as he listened to a muffled conversation from the floor above.
“And I want to gift you with a thousand ruby roses, and a chocolate covered rainbow, and maybe a few golden ponies! Eeee, and wait until I show you the diamond I got you! It only cost me three fingers and four thousand gold! Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Hehehe, Zuffid, you’re so charming! I would never hide anything from you.”
“That’s good, because my fragile heart would likely be crushed by the smallest little-”
“HAAAAALP! I’M IN THE BASEMENT!!”
Zuffid quirked a brow. “Did you hear that?”
“Huh? Oh, I’m sure it was nothing… I must have left a scrying orb on in the other room.”
“I’M NOT AN ORB! I’M A DAMN TAUREN, AND I’M TRAPPED DOWN HERE!!”
Zuffid had to pause for a moment and considered whether or not the noise was worth investigating. After looking to the floor, then to Villayna, then to the floor again, he decided that whatever it was could wait until he’d worked his romantic charms on Villy and quickly whisked her off to the bedroom.
---
It was another three minutes before Fhenrir heard a distant door open up and a set of footsteps start descending quietly. Before long, he found himself confronted by a blood elf that seemed incredibly unimpressive in appearance. His eyes were reddened and wet - he assumed the elf had been crying recently.
“Great… perhaps the male elf wants to have his way with me also?”
“Huh? Who are you, and what are you doing in my Buttercup’s basement at this time of the day Mister Tauren?”
Fhenrir sighed audibly. “You’re dating her. Even better. Listen buddy, that elf chick of yours is keeping me down here as a love slave. She rarely feeds me, and makes me do this horrible thing with my tongue… I’m only bathed as a source of enjoyment for her, and she’s only fed me enough to survive. You don’t want to know how I’ve been getting my necessary liquids.”
Zuffid was stupefied. He stood still for several moments, staring at him in shock. Slowly his eyes drifted over to dirty and stained lingerie that looked ruffled, and appeared to be a cheap imitation for a judge’s robe. There was also a bloody gavel nearby it.
Fhenrir saw where his eyes went and cringed. “You don’t want to know how many times she’s made me yell “Objection!” and “Take That!”… ugh, the memories.”
Zuffid couldn’t move. He was petrified in horror as the grotesque images probed his mind.
He was cut short suddenly as a loud crash came from behind and sent him toppling over. Villayna had smashed him over the head with a piece of elegant pottery. “Ugh… I didn’t wanna have to do that. He WAS good for a bit of flattery here and there. Oh well.”
Villayna shrugged.
“Hey, Fuzzy. Wanna help me bury the body? Then I can show you this new position I read about in Play Elf…”
---
Suddenly Zuffid’s eyes snapped open. He took a few quick breaths and looked around. Everything seemed to be normal… Villayna slept soundly at his side, and Fhenrir was nowhere to be seen. Slowly he wiped a cold sweat from his brow before rolling back over and returning an arm around Villayna.
“A dream… just a dream. Villy wouldn’t do anything like that.” Zuffid thought to himself as he began to fall asleep once more.
Villayna rolled over and moo’d suddenly, her eyes still closed and her silly grin indicating a dream of her own.
Zuffid’s eyes were wide open for the rest of the night.