NOVEL NEXT Oh oh oh it’s magic, you know?
6/9
Magatha’s party was small, consisting only of a dozen hand picked guards. They would move faster without excessive baggage or hangers on. It wasn’t much of a caravan; they were able to pack all of the supplies they needed onto only two kodo and left quietly before dawn, making excellent time. Her niece, Helka, knew where she was going but precious few other tauren had been informed, only knowing that she was taking a pilgrimage to commune with the spirits.
On the rolling plains of Mulgore, her caravan came across an unwelcome intruder on the road: A single night elf. Magatha weighed her options and decided that it was acceptable to let her warriors vent their frustrations. They were still at war with the elves, so this was clearly a spy. She had every justification.
As her guards charged the elf, a wave of green smoke flowed out of her and rolled over the Grimtotem warriors. They fell to the ground, and Magatha concluded this may have been a hasty endeavor. She committed, summoning four totems from the soil in front of her: water to cleanse poison, wind to clear the air, earth to bring clarity of purpose, and fire to help her channel energy more effectively.
The elf seemed surprised when all of Magatha’s warriors stumbled to their feet, but recovered quickly and took her true form: a massive dragon with dark green scales and a magnificent crest of horns. With a single swipe of her massive claws, two of Magatha’s warriors were dead. With a lunge forward, her totems were stomped as the dragon simply accepted inconsequential blows to her flanks and a searing lance of magma to the chest for the opportunity to regain the upper hand. Another cloud flowed out, focusing on the crone first, forcing her into sleep before she had a chance to replace her totems.
As she fell, she found herself in a hazy version of Mulgore, tinged with green. The sky shimmered, revealing an immense elven face dispassionately scrutinizing her from above. “Come, Elder Grimtotem. Come and live a dream of conquest. Embrace the power you have been promised, and be happy for perhaps the first time in your miserable life.”
Magatha was back in Thunder Bluff. After her pilgrimage, she had returned to the city and made peace with Cairne. He was too soft, but simply raging against him was no way to accomplish anything. Instead, she would advise him. She met a surprisingly sensible druidess, a tauren woman with deep green eyes, named Ysera.
Magatha was in Cairne’s tent. As her own vitality was restored, she realized something critical: the urges of youth were flowing through her once again, and in all likelihood her chieftain was experiencing the same thing. His life mate was long dead, but he had the needs of a young buck; it was child’s play to seduce him. In bed, he was surprisingly easy to manipulate, following the advice of the dispassionate druidess. She just needed to make him feel strong, important, desirable. If she acted as if she simply couldn’t resist his admittedly impressive charms, he was putty in her hands.
She found that she enjoyed seducing Cairne. The affair had an electric spark of secrecy that made it so much more exciting. Ysera would join her sometimes, always taking a dominant role, directing the action from the side of the room. She hardly ever seemed to participate, only watch. Only command. Everything went more smoothly when she followed Ysera’s suggestions.
Her whole life seemed to become a blur outside of seeking pleasure from the mighty chieftain, not even objecting when he began introducing others into their fun. She balked at first when he asked her to pleasure him while an orc watched, but she went along with it when Ysera pushed her. Soon, she thought nothing of it when Cairne simply handed her over to a human man in dark armor. She’d frequently forget what she was even there for, as the pleasure was too great.
Several hours later, Magatha stood up alongside her possessed guards, who had made camp on the side of the road after sending away the corpses of their two fallen comrades for reanimation. Ysera explained what had happened, and she was horrified at how close she’d come to seriously injuring her new friend. Regardless, Magatha was ready to turn back for Thunder Bluff and made her dreams a reality. At least some of them, if Lord Bismark allowed.
••••••••••
Saragosa shuddered with pleasure as she looked around the Underground chamber in a daze. Finally, Malygos seemed to be getting better. She hoped so at least; it might just be another manic episode, but if so it was a very strange one. Her king, who had been largely incapable of maintaining an erection lasting more than a few minutes for ten thousand years, had come home this morning, interrupted her while she was checking the archives, swept her off her feet, gifted her jewelry, and asked her to perform her duties as his consort for the first time in millennia.
Her lord had taken her in just about every way she was aware of, in and out of her visage. That was certainly new; he’d never been into the kinky human roleplay stuff before, but she supposed that quite a lot had changed since the last time they had been comfortably intimate. She had nearly a dozen eggs to lay, which put a spring in her step all on its own. To top it off, when he’d left he sounded like he was headed to Winterspring; Haleh, her sister consort, would be benefiting from this burst of energy too it seemed.
Saragosa stumbled to her feet, using the wall of the Nexus to steady herself on the way to their long-neglected hatchery. Should she open up the Azure Sanctum? No, no she wanted to keep them near her while she worked. They might be her only eggs this century.
She suspected that the amulet Ysera had given him was somehow responsible. The Dreamweaver was a kind and gentle being, so Sara and the others had decided to let the strange amulet do it’s work. Anything was worth a try. If this was the result, Sara had no regrets except that she was having difficulty standing, and that was a good problem to have.
As she laid her eggs, she noticed that the amulet had shifted in size along with her as she took her true form. Neat trick, and one that made her suspicious. She was about to start studying the amulet when she heard a chipper, friendly voice issue from it. “Hi! I’m Cathy! So, I see that you’re alone; are you in a place where we can speak without you being listened to?”
“Uh. Yes? Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m from Lordaeron, I’m with operations. I’ll be handling your onboarding. Would you mind explaining what happened between when you put on your amulet and now? My notes say that you’ve only been wearing it for a few hours, so I have to say I’m very curious how you were processed so quickly. Don’t leave out any details.”
Saragosa was hardly a virgin, she had dozens of adult children, but damn. Describing the last few hours was going to be a trip.
••••••••••
Sally watched as life left the huntress’s eyes. It was easy to get people to meet her alone, and she’d been given permission to call in Valeera for mission critical targets. Huntsman Radley was a pretty woman, and one interested in pretty women. A bit of privacy, a well placed knife, cart the corpse off to the real Sally, and she returns within a few minutes as a new sister. The men were no harder to take.
Grand Inquisitor Isillien was a busy man who was constantly accompanied. There was never a time when less than four warriors were guarding him, usually with dozens more in shouting distance. Simply killing him seemed like it would be far more efficient, but instead the master wanted him to be quietly eliminated, and captured if at all possible. Slowly taking everyone that ever has personal interactions with him one at a time was painfully slow at a rate of three or four per day, but it would eventually lead to a situation where he was isolated, surrounded by people he thought he could trust, and could be overpowered quietly.
Doris had been studying him and uploading the knowledge of those who knew him into her own mind; she believed she could pretend to be him well enough, if they could not capture him instantly. The mysterious disappearance of High Inquisitor Whitemane would likely be noticed, but Vanessa was training three more body doubles from among the blank slate worgen. One of them could be Sally if necessary, especially when surrounded by allies that would cover for them. Even a total novice can pretend to be someone that they mostly believe themselves to be.