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The Darker Side of War	By : NoiseTank13 Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Darker Side of War
- 2-Requiem of Innocence Lost
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Prologue: Requiem of Innocence Lost

“My lord!”

The sound of labored breathing and heavy footfalls of boots running up a hill clashed terribly with the almost serene landscape. The sun was in its final moments, it’s orange splendor washing over the green grass and sparkling in the lake. On the grassy hill stood two young men, one with short, curt brown hair, and the other with long, flowing blond hair.

“My lord!”

“Be at ease, Mournestone, we can hear you just fine…” came the soft voice of the blonde. Huffing and puffing, a young Mournestone came to a slow halt at their feet. Gasping for air, he managed a particularly sharp rebuttal, “You have reason to be calm, Lord Arthas. I am but a humble son of a merchant; if Headmaster Nilokor finds me running out on Divinity Studies again, I will surely be thrown out of the Academy. Your father is King, however. You can proclaim every student to train in wedding dresses and they would fall head over heels to accommodate your wishes!”

“Ooh, claws are out tonight, aren’t they?” Arthas laughed, regal both and appearance and in sound, and turned to face the landscape ahead of him. “Gentlemen, take a look…” he said, waving his arm in front of him in a majestic form. “Lordaeron… one day it will all be mine…”

“Forgive me, my lord, but are you not getting ahead of yourself? Your father is still strong,” the brown haired student laughed. Arthas shrugged in agreement. “Indeed. Still, is it a crime to survey one’s future property, Damiel? I think not.”

“I’m ruined.”

“Oh, are you still on that? If Headmaster Nilokor finds you, I’ll intervene.”

“By the Light! I’d rather dance in a ball gown than to go back to class with the other students. I get enough chaff as it is. They already call me, ‘Arthas’s Butler’; now all the schoolgirls call me, ‘Mournestone the Meek.’ THE MEEK!” he cried out in sudden horror. Damiel and Arthas burst out in laughter. “Hahaha! My apologies dear friend, I was just conversing with a very nice friend of mine, and I happened to mention your little… incident with Malicia…”

“You… what… WHAT?”

“And, uh,” Arthas smiled a rather sheepish grin, “I guess she was the gossipy type. I am truly sorry about that, Mournestone. But if it makes you feel any better, Jaina did say it was very sweet what you did, hehehahahaha!” Arthas burst out in laughter towards the end of his defense. Mournestone had a look of utter irritation, and responded, “One day, when I am King, Arthas, you shall be the first against the wall…”

Arthas roared in approval of the sharp barb. “Indeed! I shall be looking forward to it! Damiel! Did you bring them?”

“Aye,” Damiel replied, wiping a tear from his eye. From his coat he produced three sheepskin water pouches. “Three pouches of fine Darrowshire champagne!” he proclaimed proudly, handing one to Arthas and one to Mournestone. All three unscrewed the caps on the pouches, and lined up on the top of the hill, staring directly in the face of the sun, overlooking the massive kingdom of Lordaeron.

“Gentlemen…” Arthas began, raising his pouch to the sky. “To the future!”

“To the future!”

Mournestone took a long draught, when he heard crying behind him. Confused, he looked behind him to see a hooded figure crying, kneeling before him. In addition, Mournestone began to feel drops of rain on him. “Perfect…” he muttered. “Not only am I likely to be expelled, there is a crying servant in front of me and I will probably catch a cold. Damiel, Lord Arthas! May we please go back?” he asked, turning around, and stopped. Damiel had an ashen, drained look on his face. The skin on his body was ashen, and his body looked deprived of anything nutritional. He turned back to the crying servant, and yelped.

“Lady Jaina! What is the matter?”

The strange, bedraggled figure, fell backwards, and Mournestone suddenly turned to face Arthas, who transformed into a hulking mass of a man whom lost all spiritual properties of humanity. His eyes glowed a deathly green, and his pupils narrowed down on him, his fur skin and wicked armor dripping with the now torrential rain.

“FOR THE FUTURE!” Arthas roared.

Chapter 1: Slave Life

Mournestone’s eyes shot wide open, and a wave of dull pain tore through his body; passing through his waste down to his legs, with a crushing weight on his stomach. He raised his head and opened both eyes to see what was the source of this burden. Lying on his midriff was a large pile of armor: a chest piece, short mail leggings, spiked pauldrons, a heavy emerald pair of greaves and Cujaxa’s curved sword all lay on top of him, carelessly tossed as if without thought. With a grunt, he discovered with little surprise that his hands were restrained. To what, he could not tell, but with what remaining strength he could muster, he twisted his body in an attempt to dump the pile of heavy armor to the floor, with some success. The chest piece, sword and greaves fell to the wooden floor with a louder than expected crash, and he felt something shift behind him.

‘A bed,’ he thought. He was chained to a bed, and judging from the cries of seagulls, he assumed that he was in Booty Bay. He grimaced. He never should have made a bet with that troll demon… But it was too late. He lost the bet and now he’s indebted to her for sparing his life.

“Your up, Mournestone…” came Cujaxa’s voice from behind him, and the slight slurring which the rogue all-too much knew give him the information she got drunk, happy with her victory over him. Her face appeared above him, her exotic beauty enhanced by her goofy, lopsided grin and her mane of hair let down, draping over her eyes and over her chest. “Stoopid…” she fumbled around until she found what she was looking for, and took a swig from a particularly foul smelling mug. “How doesh it feel, Mourneshtone? I own you…”

“Feels great,” he said sarcastically. The troll gave a broader smile, then sat up and stood up, and brought her long, slender blue legs over the bedstead, giving the rogue ample time to view and grudging admire the trolls nude and drunk body. Whoever birthed her either had extraordinary luck or had spent years looking for the correct mate to make such a pretty troll, which wasn’t saying much, to be honest. Cujaxa burped, giggled, and awkwardly slid off onto Mournestone’s stomach. The human gave a grunt of pain, as his poor midriff was being bruised and battered from the abuse. Cujaxa laughed, as she sat on him and leaned back against his head, throwing her hair behind her and resting against his face, almost smothering him. He felt her large hands run across his lower stomach and around his groin, and he stifled a groan of approval over the feeling, in the hopes she wouldn’t think of doing what he thought she was going to do, but to no avail. She released the sword from its confines, but went limp and slumped against him.

“I… we have work to do…” she said, almost sadly. Mournestone was about to sigh with relief, when she tilted forward and raised her bottom inches away to his face.

“Make me sing, human, or I shall slice you…”and to add to the threat, she grabbed her sword from the pile and clenched it. Mournestone grimaced. “Would it be too much to remove my constraints?” he asked. Cujaxa cursed, and began to aimlessly swing her sword around behind her, narrowly missing Mournestone several times before cutting the rope that banded him to the bed. Free, he examined his poor wrists, and the marks the ropes inflicted upon him. His inspection was cut short, however, as Cujaxa’s rear rammed him in the face and against the bedstead. First thing he noticed was the smell, a sickly sweet, sweaty and dirty odor coming from an area that was weeks without a bath and a terrain that hadn’t seen maintenance for days. The second thing he noticed was the near hairless skin, which provided a smooth, almost silky quality to it. He reached around and grabbed both of Cujaxa’s cheeks, and massaged them, running his fingers back and forth and squeezing into the malleable flesh. Freeing his face, he looked up, and opened her buttocks, revealing a slightly hairy sheath and her anus. He sighed, and then with a slight smile, he licked her buttocks, leaving a trail of saliva around the rim and trailing down to her slightly pouting pussy.

Hearing Cujaxa purr almost made him pause, but, without skipping a beat began to lick her continuously, running his tongue over the front of her kooze, and with a finger, began to slowly enter her one finger at a time. He could feel himself getting hard, and he kind of chuckled at the situation. What a lowly piece of human trash he was indeed. Reviled by his own race and even his race's enemies. Condemned to a life of servitude to a troll whose sole intention was keeping him around to do her dirty work and to please her sexually when she was in heat. But, if he was supposed to be feeling depressed about it, he wasn't. In fact, he was enjoying it. Cujaxa was already starting to moisten, her juices from her snatch trickling down at a steadily increasing rate where he was slurping down. The bulge in his pants was getting larger, and pressed more against his raptorskin leather trousers. Cujaxa was on it, however, as she shifted to get a better position, pressing her bottom against his face, and untying the belt to his trousers, and in a rare act of mercy on her behalf, released his pride from the confines of his pants. Mournestone started to rub his face more and more quickly, his tongue darting in and out Cujaxa's pussy, and from the depths of her belly came a low, guttural growl that sent the hair on his back straight up. He could feel the troll warrioress's heavy, hot breathing on his member, and he thrusted slight up to her, as if taunting a hungry peasant with food. Deciding that she wasn't going to let that slide, Cujaxa plunged headfirst, taking in Mournestone’s length in with ease, and started to bob her head up and down, her long, gravelly tongue snaking around his cock with each rise and fall; and the warmth and wetness of her mouth sent him rock hard as he was battling Cujaxa's now drenched snatch. Her pussy was now extremely sensitive to any touch, which he was exploiting for all it's worth. Taking four of his fingers, he was now quickly pleasuring Cujaxa, inserting them into her snatch and lightly nibbling on the folds of her skin, which she found to be delightful. Mournestone could feel her stiffen; her time was nearly come. Cujaxa started to grind harder and harder, demanding orgasm, and he was only too happy to oblige. He stopped eating her out and began to focus on the fingering, drilling away at furious speeds. Her anal cavity began to contract, and he could feel the moist, spongy muscles of her pussy to begin to contract. He upped the pace; his hands were a near blur to the naked eye, and a faint, rhythmic smacking noise with each penetration. With his free hand, he slapped her buttocks repeatedly, giving her minor jumps, which pleasured both and him; feeling her throat constrict as she moaned and drooled on his dick was possibly the most wonderful feeling he ever had. Finally, he felt her snatch's walls suddenly constrict his hand in a vice-lock grip. She raised her head and gave a long, satisfied sigh, leaving his dick unattended. "Wonderful..." she purred. "I do say... do we have more time for more...?"

Mournestone only smiled in defeat.
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The Darker Side of War