Post by Sergeant Stonzgrinda » Fri Dec 21, 2012 2:26 am
It was good to be back in Kalimdor, and it would be better yet when this exchange was ended. The orcess slouching in the corner heaved sighs as Stonz labored over runes and parchment in the quiet. She was unfamiliar, and he didn't like her. She had the face of Blades Edge Mountain and the physique of Nagrand.
Durotar was always hot, and so was Bloodfury's den. The room was still and close, and he could smell her. Her smell was not unpleasant. Light sweat; sage; musk and something elusive, like the stinging dust raised when mining feliron. The combination was both arousing and disturbing. He put it out of his mind and continued to write.
A soft, contented moan from the corner caused him to glance up. She was slipping further down the wall, twisting, stretching and arching her back, sliding her bare feet forward and apart.
She dressed in the old style, like some mad berserker pouring through Medivh's portal for the first time. Dark rags and leather scraps, with small bones and talismans tied or stitched here and there. The tatters and lack of cloth exposed more than they covered. She stretched with the languid confidence of a panther, and looked as strong and feral as one too. The flexing of her muscles revealed remarkable control, and showed that she was not merely strong, but supple too. She was...
Watching Stonz watching her.
"Do you like what you see, warrior?" she whispered. "Would you like to see more?" She smiled, her eyes half closed and gleaming with amusement.
"What I want to see, as soon as possible is your backside!"
She turned, and bending low from the waist looked back over her shoulder. "Like this?", grinning back at the warrior.
Stonzgrinda felt rage creeping up on him, and shame for being so easily distracted. "Stand up and turnabout if you want the contract, orc! I want to see this mission accomplished, our business concluded, and you out the door for the final time!" Slamming stamps on the parchments to finalize the completed scrolls, Stonz stood up to gather scattered items together.
She yawned and replied, "Every generation, under every warchief and in every war, all of you warriors are the same. So wedded to death that you ignore life, and all of you die long before you gasp out your last despairing breath. I will tell you, Grunt Warchief Sergeant Stonzgrinda, unworthy successor that you are - the caresses of axes are cruel, and the embrace of the earth is cold and joyless. Truly, you should live before you die, at least once."
"If I want the counsel of a bitch I will consult with my worg, courier. Here is the gift, and here are the scrolls. Take them, and see that they are delivered to the witch with the instructions I gave you." Grumbling he thrust the items across a makeshift desk towards her.
She shook her head at the gift. "Only a warrior could regard such a thing as an auspicious gift. Something like this may be regarded as a thing of ill omen."
"It is the work of my hands, to the best of my ability. It is a sincere gesture of respect, and I am not surprised that you cannot recognize such a thing."
Stepping forward, and putting her hands on the splintered shield that formed his desktop she leaned towards the warrior. Her garnet eyes locked on his, as searching and unyielding as any adversary he had ever faced in battle. "I am serious you know. I would give you anything you want, and things you do not even know of. I could bring you transports you cannot imagine."
"GET. OUT. NOW.", he rumbled.
She threw her head back and laughed, deeply and with real mirth. "Fool warrior. Where is your clan? Did not all of you follow your warmistress at least partly for the view? That pretty picture is gone now, and so are your orcs. Your Kor'kron you promoted so quickly. Pretty and fierce, isn't she? Perhaps someday your blood will pool together on the ground. Won't that be romantic? That lovely child, what was her name? Kil'reth. The mind and purity of a child, in a body as fresh and fertile as Scholazar Basin, rushing into the protection of your arms and of Bloodfury. Wouldn't you like to 'instruct' her, and be her great protector? Really, you should pick one wench someday. Then your head will not be turned by all of them, all the time. The bow that is always bent will break, warchief. You are not married to your axe, nor this 'clan' you think you lead."
"Leave now while you still have legs."
"Of course. When fools are eager to ride towards oblivion, the least I can do is saddle their worgs."
Stonz stood and shook with rage and despair as she left the den. "I have a mistress" he muttered, "her name is Duty, and I will serve her until the day I die."