Greetings all. Welcome to this my first Warcraft oriented story. For the record, this story is based off of Warcraft 3 and Frozen Throne, I’ve never actually played World of Warcraft. As such there may be certain canonistic errors and probably more than a few spelling mistakes.
That aside, hope you enjoy.
Starved for Vengeance
Chapter 1
By Richard Paul
Shatharia felt good. Possibly the best she’d felt in almost a year. For the first time since the destruction of the Sunwell and the razing of Quel’thelas, her people seemed to be at last reclaiming pieces of what they had lost. Soon they would depart from Outland, to march on the Frozen throne and eliminate the Scourge once and for all. They would wipe the foul stain of the Scourge from the face of Azeroth forever, and repay the debt of vengeance that was owed.
On top of this, the Blood Elves’ all-consuming thirst for magic was at last being sated. Whereas once a burning emptiness had gripped her whole body, now at last she could feel the nourishing arcane energies, (siphoned from captured demon mages and forgotten founts of arcane energy), coursing through her. It was, she had to admit, much different from the Sunwell’s energies. This kind of power was primal and fierce by comparison. It made her and Zivalas, her companion, relish the hunt before them.
In preparation for the invasion of Northrend, Lord Illidan and Prince Kael had ordered a final search for any more sources of arcane energy that they might be able to draw strength from.
This had led Shatharia and Zivalas to the desolate remnants of a Dreanai town some fifteen miles from the Black Temple. A few foolish demons had mistaken them for easy pickings during their journey, and their bodies formed an orderly line tracing their path. For the most part though, the natives seemed to have gotten the message that Illidan’s followers were not to be trifled with.
“There’s nothing left of this place but rocks and dust.” Zivalas said with disdain as the two sorceresses hovered slowly through one of the ancient ruined streets. A heavy breeze was blowing no end of dust at them, but a small magical barrier kept their eyes, hair and clothing helpfully free of detritus.
“This world is nothing but rocks and dust,” Shatharia added, “but there’s got to be something left. Some forgotten arcane library or stray Ereder band or…”
“Or a moonwell.” Zivalas said.
“Yeah,” came the sneer-laden reply, “that’d be nice. Maybe we’ll find Sergaras’ other eye as well.”
Zivalas grabbed Shatharia’s arm and pushed her around so that she was facing the very real moonwell some twenty feet away. Despite the distance, their keen eyes could clearly make out the markings of Night Elf origin on the pool. Though finding such a thing here was like finding a Pandarin in the privy.
“What the hell?” She muttered, her body tensing at the peculiar sight. This could be an illusion, cast by a demon waiting in ambush.
Realisation came quickly however. After they had rescued Lord Illidan and vanquished the Night Elf wardens some weeks back, a number of survivors had fled the battlefield into the hellish wilderness. It was assumed that they’d pulled back to Azeroth or met their fate at the hands of demons. Evidently, neither was the case.
A little farther on she could make out the faint outline of a massive treant. It was obscured by the hovering dust but the presence of a Night Elf base was obvious.
“This is excellent.” Shatharia whispered. “Lord Illidan will be pleased with this find. There’s enough magical essence here to keep us fed for months, and probably enough Night Elves for the master and the Naga to play with. Let’s pull back and…”
An unnatural chiming sound cut her off. Turning around she saw a number of the local mushroom shaped trees contract and twist themselves into peculiar looking, mushroom shaped treants. First there were six, then twelve, then thirty. All were looking at the two Blood elves with unfriendly faces.
From somewhere unseen, a number of female voice could be heard giggling on the wind.
“Fall back!” Zivalas shouted, “Run!”
The two sorceresses turned about and fled as fast as their hovering magics could carry them. The treants gave chase, but for the most part they simply tripped over their own gnarled roots, and their pursuit was feeble at best.
Shatharia saw the Night Elves’ wooden servitors falling behind and couldn’t help but grin. For good measure, she sent two waves of arcane fire into the line of tree beasts and laughed with glee as a good number of them combusted.
At first she hadn’t noticed that Zivalas was no longer with her. So focused was she on her inferno. What she also failed to notice as a result was the small dart that had caught her in the arm, filling her veins with a powerful sedative that quickly overcame her adrenaline. By the time she noticed that something was not right, she was already floating to the floor, all consciousness slipping away.
A few hours later
Invaia Icestar couldn’t guess what reason Mistress Shadowsong had for summoning her, but she doubted she was going to like it. Since the Betrayer had escaped their grasp, again, things had been getting progressively worse for the surviving wardens. Demons threatened the borders of their base night and day, the mistress herself seemed to be slipping ever more steadily towards vengeful madness following her loss of Illidan, and to top it off, this dead world they were forced to reside in was clearly not suited for Night Elves. There was no sky here, just dust and ash which obscured the stars and the moon, assuming Draenor even had one. It was a depressing thing to feel so far from Elune’s gaze.
She stopped outside the entrance to the Tree of Eternity and straightened her attire. More feathers seemed to have escaped from her armour and her normally straight, waist length blue hair was getting increasingly unruly. Besides that though she was her normal eye catching self.
“Invaia!” Maiev said eagerly before she’d even stepped inside. Though her voice, as usual, was obscured by her owl shaped helmet she sounded almost pleased, “hurry yourself girl. I have need of your skills.”
“Of course mistress.” Invaia replied, hurriedly stepping into the large wooden entrance chamber and over to where Maiev was standing. What soon became apparent was the presence of two vengeful looking Blood Elves nearby. They were both gagged and tied securely to sturdy looking chairs. Their legs had been outstretched, their boots and footwraps removed and their ankles tied to raised stools. This was a surprising sight to say the least, but it left Invaia in little doubt as to what would be asked of her.
“We caught these two just outside the base,” Maiev continued, “Our sisters subdued them easily enough, and I have scouts on the lookout for more. I need you to prise whatever information you can from them, anything you get, no matter how small, report it to me.”
Invaia couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the prospect. It had been nearly three thousand years since she’d been called upon to interrogate anyone. (For official reasons at least). She was the premier interrogator among the wardens, and furthermore the only interrogator. Her methods were somewhat unorthodox, especially by Night Elf standards, but time and again they had resulted in success and as such her skills had earned her due recognition.
“I understand ma’am.” She said, “I’d best get started at once.”
“Yes, I’ll take my leave.” Maiev started for the exit, than turned at the last moment, “Have fun.” She added uncertainly, then left.
Invaia turned back to the two captives and took a few methodically slow steps towards them. Both were slim and beautiful like all Elvan women. Both also had pale skin and long flowing hair, one blonde the other brown. They looked short and flimsy however in comparison to her own kind.
“Your names?” She asked, removing their gags. The blonde one took a few seconds to draw in a few breaths, than parted with:
“Fool! When Lord Illidan and Prince Kael’thas learn that your kind are still on their world, you’ll suffer worse torments than anything you can do to us.”
“The Betrayer and all who serve him shall meet with their due fate soon enough.” Invaia replied, “starting with you. Now what are your names?”
“Very well then,” the brunette said, “remember our names when it’s you that is tied and helpless before your enemy. Remember how we told you you’d meet your end in terror and pain and how you’d beg for death before the end. I am Zivalas Lighteyes, this is Shatharia Hawksong.”
“Good, now why did you come here? Does the Betrayer know our location?”
The Blood Elves stayed quiet and stared at Invaia with defiant eyes.
The Night Elf interrogator knelt downwards so that she was level with the two pairs of pretty, restrained feet before her. Reaching up with both hands, she began to lightly trace the long nails of her index fingers along their arches. For her efforts she was rewarded with suppressed giggles, shocked gasps and squirming. The two prisoners had doubtlessly been expecting something quite different to this. Their faces however betrayed the slightest hint of fear at the prospect nonetheless.
Invaia quickly stepped up her assault, using all her fingers to assault the flawless soles of her prey. Shatharia and Zivalas struggled against their bonds as best they could and wriggled their feet in vain to try and escape the maddening fingers, but their efforts proved futile, much like their efforts not to break down into an uncontrollable fit of giggling.
Shatharia was the first to break.
“Eeeeaeaaaaahaaaha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Stop that!”
To her immense surprise, the tickling stopped.
“Tell me what I want to know.” Invaia said, “Otherwise it’ll get a lot worse.”
“Tell her nothing.” Zivalas said, “Our will is too strong for these purple wretches to break. Stay strong Shatharia, the others wiiieeeeeaaaaaaaaaaAAAHHHHH! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! No! Get away from my feeeaaeaehe he he he he het!”
Invaia focused her attentions on Zivalas for a good five minutes in response to the insult to her people. The pale elf’s defiance quickly degenerated into girlish giggling as the space between her long toes was explored and assaulted. Shatharia could only watch on in fear. She scrunched her toes up as tight as she could in a pyrrhic attempt to defend herself.
Meanwhile, Zivalas could do nothing but shake her head and shriek as her sensitive feet were tickled without mercy. With what clarity remained in her thoughts, she silently cursed herself for flying everywhere she went and not letting her feet adapt to the rigours of walking. If she hadn’t left them to get so sensitive through inactivity then the situation might not be so torturous for her.
“Would you care to answer my question now?” Invaia asked Shatharia, “Or would you like to fill in for your friend for a few moments.”
The Blood Elf simply looked at her with half sad, half terrified eyes. She still cherished her loyalty to Illidan it seemed, ill deserved though it was.
With inhuman speed, Invaia snatched a thin length of twine that had been used to tie her hair back, and hastily bound Shatharia’s big toes together. A rather undignified squeak escaped from her captive’s lips as she saw this happen.
“In the meantime,” the sadistic Night Elf said to Zivalas with a smile, “think on what I said about things getting worse if you’re not forthcoming with information.”
She snapped her fingers. The next thing Zivalas knew, there were two vines breaking free from the earthen floor of the Tree. They snaked their way up her sides, twisted around her arms and began to tickle her ribs. The sensation wasn’t as maddening as the attack on her feet had been, but it was still uncomfortable. The lovely sound of her laughter continued as Invaia focused on Shatharia’s feet.
Plucking two feathers from her attire, Invaia inserted them between Shatharia’s toes and traced them back and forth. Shatharia, whose feet were already feeling particularly sensitive for all their torment, broke down instantly.
“GAAAHAHAHAAAA!” her hair flew about her madly flailing head like the blades of a gyrocopter. “STAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT! PLEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE HE HE HE HE HE HESE!”
With no warning, Invaia slithered one hand up Shatharia’s smooth legs and began to tickle underneath her knees with one hand while continuing to assault her soles with the other.
“NAAHAHAHEEHEAHAHA! LEEHEHET GO DAAHAHAM IT! AAAHAHAHAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Invaia couldn’t help but feel the whispers of arousal creeping forth as she worked. She had little doubt that the Blood Elves were feeling an ever increasing need for release as well. Too bad for them.
After another ten or so minutes, she snapped her fingers again and the vines tormenting Zivalas ceased their assault on her upper body. She fell forward as much as the ropes binding her would allow and fought to regain her breath. Sweat had pasted her hair to her forehead and neck. Also, even with no one tickling her, sporadic giggles and tormented moans still came trickling from her mouth.
Shatharia responded in much the same way as Ivaina took her hands away. For a few minutes she let the two reclaim their breath before asking again whether or not Illidan knew of their location.
“No!” Zivalas screamed, abandoning her earlier resolve utterly, “He doesn’t. He thinks you’ve fled or have all been killed.”
“Really?” Invaia asked. That was good news, if it were true. She’d probably have to redouble her efforts to make sure.
“Yes.” Shatharia added, her voice sad and weak.
“Are you certain of this?” She asked, wending her way back to their twitching feet, “You wouldn’t be trying to deceive me would you?”
“No,” Shatharia screamed, “we’re telling the truth!”
“Perhaps.” Invaia muttered, “But I can’t just take your word for it can I? I have to be utterly certain that you’re not lying to me.”
With that she snapped her fingers again and the vines shot over to Shatharia, snaking beneath her robe they began explore the smooth skin within. One began to tickle around and inside her naval, the other traced its way around her breasts. The effect of both was maddening and she was soon reduced to a laughing maniac once more.
Invaia knelt down again before Zivalas. Taking both her feet in her hands, she began to suck on her toes.
The Blood elf’s screams took on an entirely different quality as she felt the Night Elf’s tongue around her toes. For all her outrage and fear, she found it hard to remember to resist. Soon her protestations became broken by hungry moans. Invaia moved downwards to nibble her arches and drag her tongue back up the length of Zivalas’ soles.
The two never changed their answer, and ultimately Invaia was convinced that they were speaking the truth. She asked a few more questions that Shatharia and Zivalas practically tripped over themselves to answer.
Half an hour later, Invaia emerged from the Tree of Eternity to find a sizable crowd dispersing from the main entrance where they’d doubtlessly been listening. She found Maiev standing by a moonwell, already walking over to her.
“Report.” She said without preamble.
“The prisoners say that the Betrayer is unaware of our presence here. He thinks we’ve been driven off. I’m inclined to believe them.”
Maiev nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes mistress Shadowsong. After some… persuasion, they also revealed the existence of a lesser used back entrance to the Black citadel which leads to a series of storerooms, all of which are not nearly so well guarded as the main entrance.”
“That sounds far too convenient Invaia.”
“I agree, but it’s worth a look.”
Maiev paused to consider this information. In her armour she appeared vaguely statuesque when in deep thought.
“Very well,” she said finally, “prepare a scouting party. If this entrance does look like it will provide us with an opportunity to strike, report back to me at once.”
“As you command mistress.”
To be Continued
That aside, hope you enjoy.
Starved for Vengeance
Chapter 1
By Richard Paul
Shatharia felt good. Possibly the best she’d felt in almost a year. For the first time since the destruction of the Sunwell and the razing of Quel’thelas, her people seemed to be at last reclaiming pieces of what they had lost. Soon they would depart from Outland, to march on the Frozen throne and eliminate the Scourge once and for all. They would wipe the foul stain of the Scourge from the face of Azeroth forever, and repay the debt of vengeance that was owed.
On top of this, the Blood Elves’ all-consuming thirst for magic was at last being sated. Whereas once a burning emptiness had gripped her whole body, now at last she could feel the nourishing arcane energies, (siphoned from captured demon mages and forgotten founts of arcane energy), coursing through her. It was, she had to admit, much different from the Sunwell’s energies. This kind of power was primal and fierce by comparison. It made her and Zivalas, her companion, relish the hunt before them.
In preparation for the invasion of Northrend, Lord Illidan and Prince Kael had ordered a final search for any more sources of arcane energy that they might be able to draw strength from.
This had led Shatharia and Zivalas to the desolate remnants of a Dreanai town some fifteen miles from the Black Temple. A few foolish demons had mistaken them for easy pickings during their journey, and their bodies formed an orderly line tracing their path. For the most part though, the natives seemed to have gotten the message that Illidan’s followers were not to be trifled with.
“There’s nothing left of this place but rocks and dust.” Zivalas said with disdain as the two sorceresses hovered slowly through one of the ancient ruined streets. A heavy breeze was blowing no end of dust at them, but a small magical barrier kept their eyes, hair and clothing helpfully free of detritus.
“This world is nothing but rocks and dust,” Shatharia added, “but there’s got to be something left. Some forgotten arcane library or stray Ereder band or…”
“Or a moonwell.” Zivalas said.
“Yeah,” came the sneer-laden reply, “that’d be nice. Maybe we’ll find Sergaras’ other eye as well.”
Zivalas grabbed Shatharia’s arm and pushed her around so that she was facing the very real moonwell some twenty feet away. Despite the distance, their keen eyes could clearly make out the markings of Night Elf origin on the pool. Though finding such a thing here was like finding a Pandarin in the privy.
“What the hell?” She muttered, her body tensing at the peculiar sight. This could be an illusion, cast by a demon waiting in ambush.
Realisation came quickly however. After they had rescued Lord Illidan and vanquished the Night Elf wardens some weeks back, a number of survivors had fled the battlefield into the hellish wilderness. It was assumed that they’d pulled back to Azeroth or met their fate at the hands of demons. Evidently, neither was the case.
A little farther on she could make out the faint outline of a massive treant. It was obscured by the hovering dust but the presence of a Night Elf base was obvious.
“This is excellent.” Shatharia whispered. “Lord Illidan will be pleased with this find. There’s enough magical essence here to keep us fed for months, and probably enough Night Elves for the master and the Naga to play with. Let’s pull back and…”
An unnatural chiming sound cut her off. Turning around she saw a number of the local mushroom shaped trees contract and twist themselves into peculiar looking, mushroom shaped treants. First there were six, then twelve, then thirty. All were looking at the two Blood elves with unfriendly faces.
From somewhere unseen, a number of female voice could be heard giggling on the wind.
“Fall back!” Zivalas shouted, “Run!”
The two sorceresses turned about and fled as fast as their hovering magics could carry them. The treants gave chase, but for the most part they simply tripped over their own gnarled roots, and their pursuit was feeble at best.
Shatharia saw the Night Elves’ wooden servitors falling behind and couldn’t help but grin. For good measure, she sent two waves of arcane fire into the line of tree beasts and laughed with glee as a good number of them combusted.
At first she hadn’t noticed that Zivalas was no longer with her. So focused was she on her inferno. What she also failed to notice as a result was the small dart that had caught her in the arm, filling her veins with a powerful sedative that quickly overcame her adrenaline. By the time she noticed that something was not right, she was already floating to the floor, all consciousness slipping away.
A few hours later
Invaia Icestar couldn’t guess what reason Mistress Shadowsong had for summoning her, but she doubted she was going to like it. Since the Betrayer had escaped their grasp, again, things had been getting progressively worse for the surviving wardens. Demons threatened the borders of their base night and day, the mistress herself seemed to be slipping ever more steadily towards vengeful madness following her loss of Illidan, and to top it off, this dead world they were forced to reside in was clearly not suited for Night Elves. There was no sky here, just dust and ash which obscured the stars and the moon, assuming Draenor even had one. It was a depressing thing to feel so far from Elune’s gaze.
She stopped outside the entrance to the Tree of Eternity and straightened her attire. More feathers seemed to have escaped from her armour and her normally straight, waist length blue hair was getting increasingly unruly. Besides that though she was her normal eye catching self.
“Invaia!” Maiev said eagerly before she’d even stepped inside. Though her voice, as usual, was obscured by her owl shaped helmet she sounded almost pleased, “hurry yourself girl. I have need of your skills.”
“Of course mistress.” Invaia replied, hurriedly stepping into the large wooden entrance chamber and over to where Maiev was standing. What soon became apparent was the presence of two vengeful looking Blood Elves nearby. They were both gagged and tied securely to sturdy looking chairs. Their legs had been outstretched, their boots and footwraps removed and their ankles tied to raised stools. This was a surprising sight to say the least, but it left Invaia in little doubt as to what would be asked of her.
“We caught these two just outside the base,” Maiev continued, “Our sisters subdued them easily enough, and I have scouts on the lookout for more. I need you to prise whatever information you can from them, anything you get, no matter how small, report it to me.”
Invaia couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the prospect. It had been nearly three thousand years since she’d been called upon to interrogate anyone. (For official reasons at least). She was the premier interrogator among the wardens, and furthermore the only interrogator. Her methods were somewhat unorthodox, especially by Night Elf standards, but time and again they had resulted in success and as such her skills had earned her due recognition.
“I understand ma’am.” She said, “I’d best get started at once.”
“Yes, I’ll take my leave.” Maiev started for the exit, than turned at the last moment, “Have fun.” She added uncertainly, then left.
Invaia turned back to the two captives and took a few methodically slow steps towards them. Both were slim and beautiful like all Elvan women. Both also had pale skin and long flowing hair, one blonde the other brown. They looked short and flimsy however in comparison to her own kind.
“Your names?” She asked, removing their gags. The blonde one took a few seconds to draw in a few breaths, than parted with:
“Fool! When Lord Illidan and Prince Kael’thas learn that your kind are still on their world, you’ll suffer worse torments than anything you can do to us.”
“The Betrayer and all who serve him shall meet with their due fate soon enough.” Invaia replied, “starting with you. Now what are your names?”
“Very well then,” the brunette said, “remember our names when it’s you that is tied and helpless before your enemy. Remember how we told you you’d meet your end in terror and pain and how you’d beg for death before the end. I am Zivalas Lighteyes, this is Shatharia Hawksong.”
“Good, now why did you come here? Does the Betrayer know our location?”
The Blood Elves stayed quiet and stared at Invaia with defiant eyes.
The Night Elf interrogator knelt downwards so that she was level with the two pairs of pretty, restrained feet before her. Reaching up with both hands, she began to lightly trace the long nails of her index fingers along their arches. For her efforts she was rewarded with suppressed giggles, shocked gasps and squirming. The two prisoners had doubtlessly been expecting something quite different to this. Their faces however betrayed the slightest hint of fear at the prospect nonetheless.
Invaia quickly stepped up her assault, using all her fingers to assault the flawless soles of her prey. Shatharia and Zivalas struggled against their bonds as best they could and wriggled their feet in vain to try and escape the maddening fingers, but their efforts proved futile, much like their efforts not to break down into an uncontrollable fit of giggling.
Shatharia was the first to break.
“Eeeeaeaaaaahaaaha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Stop that!”
To her immense surprise, the tickling stopped.
“Tell me what I want to know.” Invaia said, “Otherwise it’ll get a lot worse.”
“Tell her nothing.” Zivalas said, “Our will is too strong for these purple wretches to break. Stay strong Shatharia, the others wiiieeeeeaaaaaaaaaaAAAHHHHH! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! No! Get away from my feeeaaeaehe he he he he het!”
Invaia focused her attentions on Zivalas for a good five minutes in response to the insult to her people. The pale elf’s defiance quickly degenerated into girlish giggling as the space between her long toes was explored and assaulted. Shatharia could only watch on in fear. She scrunched her toes up as tight as she could in a pyrrhic attempt to defend herself.
Meanwhile, Zivalas could do nothing but shake her head and shriek as her sensitive feet were tickled without mercy. With what clarity remained in her thoughts, she silently cursed herself for flying everywhere she went and not letting her feet adapt to the rigours of walking. If she hadn’t left them to get so sensitive through inactivity then the situation might not be so torturous for her.
“Would you care to answer my question now?” Invaia asked Shatharia, “Or would you like to fill in for your friend for a few moments.”
The Blood Elf simply looked at her with half sad, half terrified eyes. She still cherished her loyalty to Illidan it seemed, ill deserved though it was.
With inhuman speed, Invaia snatched a thin length of twine that had been used to tie her hair back, and hastily bound Shatharia’s big toes together. A rather undignified squeak escaped from her captive’s lips as she saw this happen.
“In the meantime,” the sadistic Night Elf said to Zivalas with a smile, “think on what I said about things getting worse if you’re not forthcoming with information.”
She snapped her fingers. The next thing Zivalas knew, there were two vines breaking free from the earthen floor of the Tree. They snaked their way up her sides, twisted around her arms and began to tickle her ribs. The sensation wasn’t as maddening as the attack on her feet had been, but it was still uncomfortable. The lovely sound of her laughter continued as Invaia focused on Shatharia’s feet.
Plucking two feathers from her attire, Invaia inserted them between Shatharia’s toes and traced them back and forth. Shatharia, whose feet were already feeling particularly sensitive for all their torment, broke down instantly.
“GAAAHAHAHAAAA!” her hair flew about her madly flailing head like the blades of a gyrocopter. “STAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT! PLEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE HE HE HE HE HE HESE!”
With no warning, Invaia slithered one hand up Shatharia’s smooth legs and began to tickle underneath her knees with one hand while continuing to assault her soles with the other.
“NAAHAHAHEEHEAHAHA! LEEHEHET GO DAAHAHAM IT! AAAHAHAHAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
Invaia couldn’t help but feel the whispers of arousal creeping forth as she worked. She had little doubt that the Blood Elves were feeling an ever increasing need for release as well. Too bad for them.
After another ten or so minutes, she snapped her fingers again and the vines tormenting Zivalas ceased their assault on her upper body. She fell forward as much as the ropes binding her would allow and fought to regain her breath. Sweat had pasted her hair to her forehead and neck. Also, even with no one tickling her, sporadic giggles and tormented moans still came trickling from her mouth.
Shatharia responded in much the same way as Ivaina took her hands away. For a few minutes she let the two reclaim their breath before asking again whether or not Illidan knew of their location.
“No!” Zivalas screamed, abandoning her earlier resolve utterly, “He doesn’t. He thinks you’ve fled or have all been killed.”
“Really?” Invaia asked. That was good news, if it were true. She’d probably have to redouble her efforts to make sure.
“Yes.” Shatharia added, her voice sad and weak.
“Are you certain of this?” She asked, wending her way back to their twitching feet, “You wouldn’t be trying to deceive me would you?”
“No,” Shatharia screamed, “we’re telling the truth!”
“Perhaps.” Invaia muttered, “But I can’t just take your word for it can I? I have to be utterly certain that you’re not lying to me.”
With that she snapped her fingers again and the vines shot over to Shatharia, snaking beneath her robe they began explore the smooth skin within. One began to tickle around and inside her naval, the other traced its way around her breasts. The effect of both was maddening and she was soon reduced to a laughing maniac once more.
Invaia knelt down again before Zivalas. Taking both her feet in her hands, she began to suck on her toes.
The Blood elf’s screams took on an entirely different quality as she felt the Night Elf’s tongue around her toes. For all her outrage and fear, she found it hard to remember to resist. Soon her protestations became broken by hungry moans. Invaia moved downwards to nibble her arches and drag her tongue back up the length of Zivalas’ soles.
The two never changed their answer, and ultimately Invaia was convinced that they were speaking the truth. She asked a few more questions that Shatharia and Zivalas practically tripped over themselves to answer.
Half an hour later, Invaia emerged from the Tree of Eternity to find a sizable crowd dispersing from the main entrance where they’d doubtlessly been listening. She found Maiev standing by a moonwell, already walking over to her.
“Report.” She said without preamble.
“The prisoners say that the Betrayer is unaware of our presence here. He thinks we’ve been driven off. I’m inclined to believe them.”
Maiev nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Yes mistress Shadowsong. After some… persuasion, they also revealed the existence of a lesser used back entrance to the Black citadel which leads to a series of storerooms, all of which are not nearly so well guarded as the main entrance.”
“That sounds far too convenient Invaia.”
“I agree, but it’s worth a look.”
Maiev paused to consider this information. In her armour she appeared vaguely statuesque when in deep thought.
“Very well,” she said finally, “prepare a scouting party. If this entrance does look like it will provide us with an opportunity to strike, report back to me at once.”
“As you command mistress.”
To be Continued
