	Members of the Horde were very rarely welcome in the Deeprun tram, but when a troop of tauren pop through a portal with casks of stout strapped to their backs... well, who could say no?  Orcs, gnomes, trolls, and dwarves alike all turned up in droves to Bizmo's Brawlpub as brews of all kinds (albeit most of them rather cheap in nature) began to flow like water.  Sure, Brewfest wasn't for months yet, but whispers of one "Aspect Patirius", and a day to praise this mythical green dragon, ran rampant about the pub with the Horde's arrival, and that was plenty enough reason to get utterly shitfaced.  Dozens of green-dyed garments were being passed around among the growing crowd of patrons as well.  The sober individuals who occasionally entered the pub proved quite bewildered, but all it took were a few drinks and a green shirt to bring them into the fold.  Within a short hour the beer-sodden party was in full swing, and the liveliest among them were cheerfully dancing atop the (thankfully) sturdy, gnomish-engineered tables.  Songs with a foreign beat to them were being passed around until whole crowds were slurring the words like they'd known them their whole lives.  

	Among the ever-cheerful crowd, a boisterous cry of "WOOOO!  ANOTHERRRRRR!" rose above the din, followed by a particularly large mug slamming into a table near the pub's arena.  Lyrah was all smiles as a fresh, filled mug was pushed in front of her, and with a confident, "FOR PATIRIUS!" the mug tipped upside down, and its contents disappeared straight into the shaman's gullet.  Another chorus of raucous cheers rose from the throng of bar patrons as the aspect's name was chanted again and again, though such cries weren't the main reason most blurred gazes had weakly focused upon her.  The ever-liberal shaman had been one of the first to don a festive garment, having chosen a snow white, off shoulder blouse with a vibrant green waistcoat and a frilly green skirt that, oddly enough, dropped nearly down to her knees.  The green contrasted nicely with her chocolate brown fur, but of course it was the low-cut blouse that granted one and all a generous view of her canyon-like cleavage.  If there was a garment that could truly contain her spectacular bosom, it remained to be seen.

	While most patrons dancing and singing, some were a bit more under control with their drinks.  Not far from Lyrah sat none other than the almond-furred Drenan who, despite draining his own tankards nearly as quickly, seemed quite calm as he chatted easily with a few other patrons.  His gaze seldom left Lyrah, however, and as wary as he was of the crowd, he was pleased to see Lyrah enjoying herself.  It had been a good while since she'd had the chance to socialize without having to worry about bigger issues.

	"I SAID ANOTHER!" she cried, much to the joy of the crowd.  The biggest grin crossed her face as she threw her arms up in the air and cheered once more, this time even hopping up on the table and beginning to dance a veritable Patirius jig.  Giddy giggles escaped her as her hooves clacked noisily atop the table in rhythmic fashion, and the more encouragement she got, the faster she danced.

	Drenan let out a deep chuckle as he cupped one hand to his mouth and bellowed, "There is a drink in it for you for three twirls and a curtsy!"

	Lyrah's head jerked straight toward her father to meet his eye, and with a cocky grin the shaman instantly spun into one, two, then three twirls all in a row, her tail swishing almost hypnotically behind her.  Hoots and hollers encouraged her onward, and with her return to face him she grasped the hem of her skirt and curtsied just as asked... though as she shot back up, she carried the fringe of her skirt right along with her.  Only Drenan and those in that line of the pub caught a full view of Lyrah's undercarriage.  In another uncharacteristic twist, a pair of silken white panties granted her nethers a semblance of modesty, while a set of white garters tied them to a pair of green stockings that ran from her upper thighs down to her ankles.

	Drenan's eyes went wide, and the drunken throng cheered all the louder.  Dozens of mugs raised high into the air to cheer her on as beer sloshed and splashed, some of which haphazardly splattered the dancing tauren.  Lyrah simply kept giggling and even opened her mouth to catch some of the splashing beer, although much of it found purchase upon her blouse.  Another massive mug was raised in her direction by an approaching waitress, and without skipping a beat she snatched up and tipped it into her mouth, all while dancing in circles atop the table to the beat of the patrons' singing.

	The seated paladin had to force himself to keep his seat as he watched her steadily spiral into deeper intoxication.  Indeed, she was perhaps the life of this unusual party with her fervent dancing and occasional flash of her panties, but he had to wonder what kind of father he was for allowing her to do such a thing.  At the same time... well, he couldn't deny the beauty and grace of her dancing, let alone the unusual outfit she wore.  He, too, had donned a vivid green vest with a matching top hat and a pair of form-fitting black shorts, though not nearly as many ladies took notice of him where he sat.  Perhaps it was jealousy?  Perhaps he was envious of Lyrah's ability to garner such intense attention?  No, he knew if he'd desired it he would be dancing up there right along with her.  The attention simply wasn't for him, and at the end of the day he knew he'd still get to take his daughter home personally.

	That time was, perhaps, approaching faster than either of them had intended.  Lyrah's eleventh mug was sent hurtling empty across the pub to conk into the head of a rather unassuming dwarf.  Said dwarf whirled around to the unfortunate night elf who'd been standing behind him, and without hesitation his fist cocked back to clock the elf squarely in the gut.  Within the span of a few minutes, Bizmo's Brawlpub had lived up to its name as many, many drunk patrons were throwing fists, tackling others to the ground, and sending gnomes flying down the bar.  A few Stormwind guards could be seen headed toward the pub's entrance until a flying goblin crashed into the wall nearest to them, and without so much as a break in their stride they turned on their heels and headed back up the hall.

	Despite the drunken brawls, very little blood spattered about the pub.  Most of the fights were simply rowdy displays of testosterone, and those who chose not to brawl were either ogling their mates, alluring females, or still fixated upon the dancing... well, now staggering, Lyrah.  The splashing beer had downright drenched the ever-cheerful tauren, and in turn her white blouse had turned almost transparent.  The outline of her dark brown nipples had become almost crystal clear to the cheering throng.

	Drenan quietly bristled from his seat as he watched his daughter's steps grow shakier.  It was only a matter of time before a single step of her right hoof landed only halfway on the edge of the table, and with a loud cry her body fell sharply forward... right into Drenan's quick-acting arms.  "Alright, I think we are done here."

	A few boos rang out from the crowd as Drenan waded through the drunken sods.  Lyrah simply continued to laugh as she hung her head upside down over one arm and reached out to land several high-fives with a few of the bolder patrons.  Only one dared to reach out as if to give Lyrah's soaked bosom a squeeze, only to receive a fierce smack and a menacing glare from Drenan.  The powerful paladin didn't stop even as they passed back through the portal to Orgrimmar, nor did his stride break until he'd found their cozy room at the Broken Tusk.  "Daaaaaaddyyyyy *hic* you're no fun!" Lyrah groaned as her father eased her gently down onto their small bed.

	A gentle chuckle escaped Drenan as he stepped into their, frankly, primitive bathroom and drew a basin of water from the pump, quietly thanking his stars that she hadn't used the affectionate moniker until they were behind closed doors.  "And you are too much fun," he teased as he set the bowl down on the small table next to her.  "Drink.  You are dehydrated."

	"Pffffft!" Lyrah dismissed him, followed by another series of drunken giggles.  Her curvaceous body flopped about lazily as she reached for the basin.  Her hand fell just shy of the bowl, and the resultant shift in weight nearly sent her toppling right over the bed's edge, had Drenan not caught her anyway.  "Oh *hic* Earthmother," she moaned as she was laid back down much closer to the bed's center.  "How come you ain't giggly, daddy?"

	"Because I had over six decades to practice before you came along," he retorted teasingly.  "I have had just as much as you have, I assure you."

	"Mmmmh... reeeeallllly," she purred.  Her head tipped upward to shoot her father a lewd smile, and truly she couldn't have looked more suggestive as her thick thighs slowly spread themselves before him, though her frilly skirt yet hid her treasure from his view.  "I wonder how *hic* good drunken daddy is at the... dick-down, hmm?"

	Even for the persuasive Lyrah, this was a much more lewd angle of her than Drenan had recalled seeing before.  "That does not seem... *hic* wise," Drenan rumbled as one hand moved to cover his muzzle with his hiccup.  "I am not fond of taking advantage of my little girl when she is incapacitated."

	Lyrah's gaze softened, but her eyes looked no less lustful up at her loving father.  One hand traveled in a zigzag fashion from her bosom down her belly and to the fringe of her skirt.  All it took was a little pull to draw the stout-soaked fabric up to give him a full view of her garters and panties beneath, the latter of which had become significantly less opaque, though clearly not due to beer splashes.  "Are you sure?"

	Drenan swallowed hard as his eyes proved ever-hopelessly magnetized to his daughter's covered quim.  The undersized black shorts suddenly seemed much more painful to wear than they had a moment before.  "I... well, I...."

	"... wanna pin your baby girl'sh *hic* ankles above her head?" she purred and slowly slipped her hand between her thighs.  Two fingers tenderly spread her nether lips to grant her father an even deeper look into her pink folds, while her third finger started to slowly circle her clit.  Her free hand reached out to him and curled a finger upward to beckon him closer.

	Drenan's cheeks flushed with more than intoxication, and the drunken bull couldn't help but lean in at her beckon.  One of his strong hands came to rest on her right, bare thigh, while the other pressed a single, thick finger gently into her warm quim.  "Maybe I... *hic*...."

	Lyrah's giggle melted into a loud, husky moan at her father's touch, and the beckoning hand slowly moved back to her chest to grip her soaked blouse and peel the wet fabric down little by little.  Both dark, incredibly hard nipples found the cool breeze of the room and added even more volume to her next moan, her eyes closing briefly only to open and bat her eyelashes encouragingly at her father.  "Take me, daddy... it'sh okay... I want you...!"

	That tender plea seemed to awaken something within the powerful paladin.  His finger withdrew from between her legs completely soaked with her nectar, and truly there was no sign whatsoever that she wasn't ready for him.  The massive bull snorted as he shot her a coy grin of his own, and suddenly both hands were locked tight around her ankles.

	Lyrah's eyes shot open wide at the sudden gesture, followed by a truly giddy grin as her legs were suddenly pulled upward.  A sharp, happy squeak escaped the shaman as her hooves were suddenly pressed against her own horns, and Drenan's muzzle quickly followed with a passionate, drunken kiss to his daughter's waiting lips.  Lyrah moaned even harder against him as she felt lustful excitement wash over her.  A capable shaman had to be as flexible as she was intelligent, of course, and no pain came to her as her father bore down on her curvaceous form.  As soon as his hips touched her own, Lyrah's hands shot out to his waist to yank the fabric of his shorts down as quickly as she could.  Her lips never left his as she worked her magic, and no sooner did his tool spring free that its tapered tip found itself pressed tight to her wet folds.  Her head shook to break his powerful kiss for just a brief moment to whisper, "Gimme that big... fucking... bullcock, daddy... for Aspect Patiri-"

	Drenan didn't let her finish as his thick tool plunged into her depths, its tapered tip betraying its impressive girth the deeper it plunged, spreading her nethers nice and wide.  The paladin groaned deeply in pleasure as he kissed his daughter yet again, his hands squeezing tight to her ankles as his hips pushed downward further and further.  His hips finally meshed perfectly against Lyrah's upturned backside, his balls squishing wetly between her plush cheeks with lustful fervor.  "Take it, baby girl... every... last... inch," he breathed between kisses.  His hips drew sharply backwards for only a fleeting moment before he plunged himself right back into her drenched depths.

	The shaman had grown quite fond of her father's tender touch since they'd grown intimate together, but there was something about his rarely-seen fierce side that lit a true fire in her belly.  Her eyes screwed shut as her arms reached up to wrap tight around the back of his strong neck.  It was all she could do to brace herself before the seasoned bull began to viciously pound his pride in and out of her as deep as it could plunge.  Practical screams of ecstasy tried to leave Lyrah's lips, only to be muffled by another series of passionate kisses.  Her fingers dug tight into his mane as her body was heavily rocked against the bed... and the shaman loved every second of it, though all she could muster to tell him was, "Daddy... daaaaddyyyyy!  Ffffffuck me, daddy!"

	Drenan couldn't take his eyes off of her as he relentlessly ravished his daughter's nethers.  The control he'd had back at the pub had vanished, replaced by the lust that Lyrah knew how to draw from within him far too well.  His hands relinquished their iron grip on her ankles to reach around them and grab two large handfuls of her naked breasts, his fingers clawing and squeezing at her tender, furred flesh hungrily.  "Take it, baby girl...!  Take every... last... inch!" he grunted between powerful thrusts, each one rapidly stoking a fire that had been burning since the celebration had started.  The image of dancing Lyrah had been burned into the bull's mind, and to see her so lewdly half-dressed beneath him was almost too much for him to bear.  

	Only a few minutes had passed since her father had first plunged between her legs, but already Drenan's thrusts were quickening - a sign Lyrah had become very good at picking up.  Her grip tightened on his mane as her legs attempted to squeeze either side of him, but her ankles were too tightly trapped between him and her own horns to move.  The tension alone caused the heat to rise all the more in her beautiful body, and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop her lust-crazed father... well, why would she want to, anyway?  "Daddy... daddy give it to me!"

	Drenan's last grunt melted into a powerful groan as his hips shot downward to mash against her thighs and rump as tight as possible.  His entire body bore down on the half-dressed Lyrah, practically meshing her into the bed just to penetrate as deep inside her as physically possible... right before the tip of his cock erupted to flood her nethers with his nectar.  His powerful form quaked heavily atop her as he kissed her deeply and hungrily, each quiver sending another shot of his impressive load into her.  His husky, ragged breathing grew louder as his lips left hers, his eyes opening slowly to look down at Lyrah...
... who was actually quite the mess.  Sweat and stout had matted her mane and fur, and her once-pristine outfit had turned into wet rolls of fabric that hardly covered anything at all.  Her own eyes opened to look up at her equally-messed father, and once more a lewd smile crossed her lips.  "Mmmmm... jusht what I wanted for Aspect Patirius' Day.  Thank you, daddy."

	Drenan could find no words through his heavy breathing, though he did not hesitate to press a move loving kiss to his daughter's lips as he slid to one side of her.  His tool slickly withdrew from within her as it began to soften, and with a husky gasp he flopped flat on his back next to her, utterly spent.  "Lyrah... baby..." he breathed, his broken horn sinking into his pillow as he tilted to smile at her.

	"Shhhhh," Lyrah purred and pressed a finger sloppily to his lips.  "I love you, too... let'sh jusht get shome shleep...."  Neither tauren's eyes could stay open, and within moments the both of them had passed out, wrapped loosely in each others' arms.

* * * * *

	Drenan's eyes didn't open again until the following morning, his fuzzy gaze slowly focusing to find Lyrah's side of the bed empty.  Little by little his consciousness returned as he brought himself upright to look around the room.  A trail of Lyrah's soiled clothing was splayed along the floor toward the archway that led to their small bathroom, and a moment later the sound of sharp retching confirmed the paladin's concerns.  Drenan had drank enough in his time that he'd thankfully avoided a hangover, but he knew Lyrah was in for much more.  The paladin awkwardly shrugged off the green vest and hat that had somehow remained upon his person, and with gentle hoofsteps his naked form stepped into the bathroom behind a naked Lyrah hunched over half-full washbasin... but not with water.  "Easy, sweetheart," he rumbled as he leaned down and began to rub her back in soft circles.

	Lyrah's cheeks bulged out briefly before she retched once more into the basin, coughing and sputtering miserably.  "Morning, daddy," she gasped as she struggled to even out her breathing again.  "I... I regret nothing."

	"No?" Drenan prodded in surprise.

	"For last night?  Worth it," she breathed and struggled to keep from hurling again.

	Drenan breathed a sigh of relief, thankful she hadn't blacked out.  "Well, good.  I am thankful something good could come from such a wild holiday."

	Lyrah smirked as she glanced up over her shoulder to look at him.  "Yeah... you're keeping that top hat, right?"

	"Only if you keep the stockings," he rumbled and nuzzled his daughter's cheek lovingly... even if the smell was rather rancid.