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Commander Pinter Ch. 01

By: Myrnh



It was colder than she thought it would be.

Pinter's boot sank shin-deep in snow as the weight of her gear finally caught up with her. Everything was amplified in this cold that pressed down like an enormous hand, adding to the weight of her gear, slowing her progress through this endless snow. Snow and wind. And mountains. The wind bit fiercely at what little of her face was exposed above the tail of her cloak, wrapped around herself and pulled high to cover her mouth.

She pumped her legs in the heavy white sheet that blanketed the ground as she traversed the steep, rocky incline. Her tears had dried hours ago, evaporated in the might of the wind. Frostfire Ridge was nothing but snow, wind, and mountains. Pinter had been walking all day now, her miles of footsteps filled in long ago even if she had the energy to give up and follow her trail back. There wasn't even a friendly flight path available to her, so she had to make the long trek on foot.

She wished more than anything for a mount, anything with strong enough legs to plow through the debilitating snow, to get her over the next rocky ridge and see the next, and the next, and the next. Daylight dwindled beneath the clouds in the east, the sky golden near dusk but promising nothing but more wind and cold for the night. Wind blasted her with another assault, and Pinter slipped as she reached her free hand for another hold on the cliff, and missed.

Pinter wailed as she caught herself with her knee, as her entire leg submerged in the freezing vice of snow. Her mail leggings weren't enough insulation, and when she staggered to her feet she knew they had soaked through. She needed to find shelter soon. She needed to build a fire. The people waiting for her would have to keep waiting. If she didn't find a cave soon she would die.

Pinter was a hunter, although she had no idea why. Since she was little she had dreams of joining the Alliance, of fighting alongside other Humans, the serene Night Elves of Darnassus, the fearsome Worgen of the north, even the exotic Draenei who wandered the streets of Stormwind and who occasionally appeared in her village in Elwynn Forest. Pinter had fallen in love with the idea of adventuring and stopping the Horde's advance. She had trapped small animals as a girl and kept them as pets. When she mentioned this to the recruiter outside the New Barracks, he had recommended her for hunter training. Pinter saw herself storming Tol Barad with other youngsters like her, beating back Trolls and Blood Elves in Alterac Valley, crushing the Orcs in the Barrens and spreading Stormwind's influence to the far reaches of Azeroth. Garrosh Hellscream had changed all that.

Training had barely commenced when Theramore was obliterated. She had only tamed her first bear when the Alliance and Horde united to lay siege to Orgrimmar. That false victory had been harsh, indeed, as Hellscream escaped to some virgin past on the home world of the Orcs, raising the army of his father Grammosh, and bringing them back to Stormwind's doorstep at the Dark Portal. The Alliance needed heroes. Azeroth needed them, and Pinter was rushed through her training.

She was deemed fit for combat after only two months, given a bow and a set of halfway decent gear, and sent rushing through the Dark Portal with Khadgar and Thrall. She survived the rout of Tanaan Jungle, and for some reason they called her "Commander." Only 19 years old and she commanded a garrison full of Alliance troops who had spilled their first Orc blood when Pinter was still in her cradle.

Pinter looked back as she finally reached the summit of her ridge. Nothing but dreary snow and thick, gray clouds spread to the horizon. She looked ahead, and she spotted dark red lava spilling from the peaks. It had to be the Stonefury Cliffs. She was close, but she would never make it before nightfall. Pinter pulled her cloak tighter and stepped onto the opposite face of the ridge. It was so much colder than she thought it would be.

She slipped. She landed hard on her butt and slid on sheer ice all the way to the foot of the ridge. Her cloak slipped up her back. Her vest slipped up, too, exposing her skin, and Pinter felt the promise of agony as she slid, as she plopped awkwardly in a snowbank and came to a rough halt. What was she doing here? She was no hero. She couldn't even find a simple instance, fulfill a basic task that Khadgar had entrusted to her. Pinter lay on her back, her cloak and her shirt disheveled around her, exposed to the cold and crying. She wiped her eyes and found her opened backpack, the four Talador orchids frosting in the wind. Pinter packed up the only beautiful things she had left, checked her bow, and swallowed enough of her tears to stand. There had to be a cave down here. She could cry herself to sleep and make her way home tomorrow. Khadgar would understand. She was useless, and she would go back to Elwynn Forest by the end of the week.

The ground rumbled beneath Pinter's feet. The snow billowed in a long line, and Pinter fell on her back as something burst through the ice.

A massive worm twisted its jaws in a crackly roar as it rose high over Pinter. Blue and white fur lined the monster's back, and its teeth spiraled in its mouth like a meat grinder as it moved closer, as it closed in on its prey.

Fear locked Pinter in place, or she thought it was fear. Her heart beat steadily in her chest from what she thought was cowardice, but her hunter training took hold without her even knowing. She reached for her bow. She found her arrow. She lined up her shot.

The worm hissed loud as it charged.

And crashed dead with a blast of white dust, curling up in its throes as its nervous system failed. Pinter's arrow stuck from the small point just above its mouth that housed the monster's brain. She panted heavily as she realized she was alive. She had won. She was too stunned to smile. Pinter stood with her gear asunder and made her way to the dead worm. The beast's oddly shaped jaws would fetch a few pieces of gold from the merchants in her garrison, and this hide would prove useful when she finally gathered enough resources to build a tannery. A flash of pride ignited in Pinter's belly as she sliced through the thick pelt and made quick work of its flesh. She folded her loot, stuffed it in her bag, and leapt down from the giant corpse.

A silhouette shambled out of the rocks. Pinter could only make out a humanoid shape wearing large shoulder guards, and she wondered if this was one of the adventurers she was supposed to meet. Before she knew it the newcomer had summoned four totems in the ground. Pinter went for her bow, but it was too late. The ground underneath the snow cracked, and living land wrapped itself like rope around Pinter's body.

She lifted three feet in the air, her arms trapped beneath the constricting Earth, her binds squeezing tightly sending fire up her spine. Pinter's vision went white, not like the snow but bright white like heavenly illumination. She gazed blindly at the clouds overhead and kicked her feet vainly beneath her, and she realized she was being tranquilized. A dozen pin pricks now became known to her, some sort of venom injecting into her system. She would be out soon. She would be dead soon after that as whoever this newcomer was finished her off no doubt. The last thing Pinter did before she went still was surrender to more tears. She really was useless. She had failed, and she would die lonely and frozen somewhere in Frostfire Ridge.

The newcomer dismissed the totems and stepped forward. It was an Orc, a woman, and she was heavily bundled up beneath a cloak that seemed to be an extension of her body. The Orc held a small mace in her left hand. Her right hand appeared as if growing from beneath the cloak holding a curved, serrated dagger. She walked to Pinter in her stone prison, and she raised the mace over her head.

Pinter whimpered just then. She was so far into the venom's paralysis that she had no knowledge of it, but the Orc woman heard. She paused, and she lowered the mace. She looked more closely at Pinter's young features. And she sighed something like resignation as she shook her head.

More wind howled through the scene. The Orc looked over her shoulder, only to see a wall of snow whipped up by a mighty storm blowing its way across the frozen plain. She waved her arms in a grand downward motion. The rocks retreated back to the Earth, releasing Pinter, who fell unconscious in the snow. The Orc's arms disappeared inside her cloak and emerged empty-handed. Then she knelt, hefted Pinter over her shoulder, and made her way back into the rocks just as the windstorm overtook Frostfire Ridge.

She woke slowly to crackling fire. For a moment Pinter thought she was safe in her bed back in the town hall, but then she felt the heavy pelt that covered her. Most of her clothes had been removed, and Pinter swirled upright and aware as she remembered a shadowy figure summoning the stones to subdue her.

It was a cave. Orange firelight danced on the walls, and the wind howled outside the entrance about thirty yards away. Pinter turned her gaze to the sound of the fire, and she saw an Orc woman kneeling, working a spit, grumbling to herself in mild frustration. The Human hunter's heart beat in her throat at the sight. The Horde! Frostfire Ridge was their base of operations in Draenor, and she had been taken by an Orc. This was an older Orc, her arms ropy with muscles, easily the match of the strongest Human male warrior or paladin. The sides of her head were bald, her gray hair splayed high over her head in a Mohawk. She would be fierce, but Pinter had to try.

Her gear hanged close by on the wall. Her bow rested beneath, her arrows neatly in their quiver. She could make it if she was quiet. Pinter slipped out from the pelt that she recognized as a thick cloak much better attuned to the frigid climate than her own. Her skin didn't pucker in gooseflesh from the cold but went warm with the fire's heat, and Pinter scooted to her bow. She plucked an arrow from her quiver. She looked back at the kneeling Orc.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the Orc woman said in the deep voice natural to her race.

Pinter froze as the Orc flicked her hand, sprouting a totem at her feet that glowed with a tiny yellow ball of light revolving around it.

"I could ruin your day in a heartbeat," the Orc said. "You're better off crawling back under my cloak to wait for your dinner."

Pinter set down her bow. She sat cross-legged on the wide cloak that was spread on the floor. She pulled the lip over her legs, and she eyed the Orc woman in curious suspicion.

"Where are we?" Pinter asked.

"Away from the storm," the Orc said.

"How long was I asleep?" Pinter asked.

"Does it matter?" the Orc asked. "You're alive."

Pinter looked away. She couldn't argue with that. At least this Orc, a shaman by Pinter's understanding, had found it within her to spare her life. Pinter wouldn't press the issue. She looked down at her waist, at her arms, and she saw the tiny pricks where the tranquilizer had entered her body. They were tiny red marks, and they looked like they were healing up. This shaman had probably used some enhancement to reverse the effects of the initial spell. She was alive, and she was healing. Pinter had no cause to ask for more.

"Damn the Gods," the Orc growled at the fire. Pinter smelled frying meat, and her stomach quaked at the scent. She hadn't eaten since leaving Gorgrond, a few bites of Draenic cheese one of the Rangarii had offered. She rose from the cloak and crouched her way just behind the Orc.

"What's wrong?" Pinter ventured.

"Flavorless rubbish," the Orc said, tossing away her utensil. The Orc's gear was spread open neatly as though she were used to living in the wild. She turned her head profile to Pinter, and she saw the fangs in her lower lip, the lines of age at the corner of her eye, from her nose to the edge of her mouth. The Orc sank in renewed frustration. "A simple recipe, and I left all of my reagents in the storehouse."

"Maybe I can help," Pinter said.

The Orc turned on her suddenly with flared nostrils. Pinter flinched.

"I have some flowers," Pinter said. "Some orchids. They might work."

The Orc narrowed her eyes in thought. "Get them."

Pinter found her backpack. She dug beneath the worm hide and the circular jaws, and she found the four flowers. She went back to the Orc with the orchids extended, and she bowed her head in offering. "If you think they will do."

The Orc took the flowers. She smelled them. After a moment she turned back to the fire where she crushed them in her large hands, sprinkling the fragrant remains over the pan where two flanks of elek meat simmered with what looked like jawless sleeper steaks. As the flowers cooked, their smell mixed with the aromas that already filled the cave, and Pinter's hunger spiked. But in a fantastic way. The Orc sensed it, too, lifting her head with a sniff.

"I'll be," the Orc said.

"I picked those flowers in my garrison," Pinter said. "In my garden. I never thought I would use them. I wouldn't even have known what for."

Pinter went back to the cloak, wrapping her legs in the comforting warmth. She locked up, expecting to remain in silence until they ate their small dinner.

"What is your name?" the Orc asked.

Pinter perked at the question. Should she answer? She was alive. That's all that mattered. "Pinter."

"I am Kerrak," the Orc said. "You are far from Shadowmoon Valley, Pinter."

"I came here to find four adventurers," Pinter said. "The mage Khadgar gave me my mission. We're supposed to raid the Bloodmaul Slag Mines and return with Gug'rokk's head, and whatever else we can find for ourselves."

"That won't be easy," Kerrak said.

"I realize that," Pinter said, and she drew herself tighter.

Kerrak stood, casting a long shadow over Pinter. She was maybe six inches taller, formidable in her stance, but there was a tenderness to her posture. Kerrak's leather top covered her ample breasts, and her hips ticked back and forth beneath her long skirt as she crossed the cave to Pinter's gear on the wall. Kerrak's olive green midriff was toned with strong abdominal muscles, probably from decades of fighting all the terrors of Azeroth, of dealing with Alliance scum like herself. Kerrak examined Pinter's shirt, her leggings, her hood, and she shook her head.

"You were lucky not to freeze," Kerrak said. "This gear is better suited for the jungle."

"I came through Gorgrond," Pinter said.

"This is not Gorgrond," Kerrak said. "Not at all. But this bow." The shaman picked up Pinter's bow. Her heart stopped for a second, but Pinter relaxed as Kerrak simply felt the wood, felt the core, drew the string taught and set it down. "It is sturdy. It's a good bow."

"And I'm useless with it," Pinter said.

"You downed that worm," Kerrak said. "That's impressive."

Pinter kept her head low and hugged her legs. "Why didn't you kill me?"

Silence opened up like a desert. The fire crackled, and the meat in the frying pan hissed as Kerrak mulled over her answer. "I was about to," Kerrak said. "I was breath away from crushing your skull and taking your heart."

"What stopped you?"

"I have adventured since I was old enough to leave my village," Kerrak said. "I have seen three Warchiefs. I have dealt with the Burning Legion, stormed Icecrown Citadel, shot Deathwing from the sky, and liberated my own capital from a maniac who lived to create even greater evil. I have thousands of trophies, pieces of Alliance men and women who tried to kill me over the years, all of them burning with a desire to serve something as great as what drives me and my kind, but I swear. You people get younger and younger every time. My own son was just like you."

Kerrak went quiet then. Pinter sensed the memory welling inside of the shaman, and she didn't disrupt it with a hasty word. Kerrak had taken mercy on her. She was thankful enough.

But as they ate their meal, made even more delicious with the orchids Pinter had added, Kerrak opened up. Her son's name was Druktag. He grew up enamored with Garrosh Hellscream and vowed to be a warrior like the mad Orc. When Theramore was obliterated and Vul'jin broke ranks to form his rebellion, Kerrak and Druktag had followed. They were in the frontline during the Siege of Orgrimmar. Druktag and a band of Orc warriors had accompanied the Gnomes who destroyed the Iron Juggernaut. But he had been killed in the fight, blown to bits by a stray mine. Kerrak was deep inside of Orgrimmar by then, healing the Night Elves and Trolls who ultimately subdued Garrosh. She didn't learn of Druktag's death until after it was all over.

Kerrak stared into the fire when she finished her story. Pinter wasn't sure if Orcs were capable of tears, but Kerrak's dark brown eyes sparkled with moisture. The young hunter ventured out her hand and touched Kerrak's leg. The Orc didn't even flinch, but Pinter sensed a spark of heat beneath her skirt. She thought nothing of it, though, as Kerrak placed her own thick, heavy palm over Pinter's fingers. It was a gentle connection, and Pinter's ears rang with a rush of blood to be sharing something so intimate with her enemy. They sat like that in silence, and their shadows were long and tall on the cave wall.

Pinter helped Kerrak clean up. The shaman stuck another long piece of wood in the fire with a burst of sparks that flittered and died out. The fire burned brighter, and Pinter had a good look of Kerrak's features, her age more defined in the renewed light. Pinter wondered if she would become such a veteran as Kerrak in her time, if she would even survive whatever was playing out here on Draenor. She wondered if she would train other hunters like herself and nurture their flare for adventure. She wondered many decades ahead, and suddenly her back ached from the strain of the day.

Pinter groaned and rotated her arm.

"Are you all right?" Kerrak asked.

"It was a long day," Pinter said.

"I have just the thing," Kerrak said.

The Orc went to her bags and removed a round stone, about the size of her fist. "What is that?" Pinter asked.

"A relaxant," Kerrak said. "Come here."

Pinter closed the distance. She turned around at Kerrak's gesture, and the Orc raised Pinter's arms. Pinter gasped at the heat as Kerrak touched the stone to the creamy skin of her upper back, but she relaxed as the shaman ran the stone out along her shoulder, circled, and traced down the tight muscles in her side. Pinter loosened up, and she closed her eyes as Kerrak performed whatever therapy this was.

She knew all of Pinter's zones, every possible place that was tighter than usual and ached for release. Kerrak put her free hand on Pinter's belly, holding her closer, and Pinter lost herself in the soothing ritual. She noticed a remaining bit of tension in her neck, and Kerrak seemed to hear, running the stone higher and making small circles that opened up Pinter's mind and made her forget about any sort of distress, any cold, any danger that their races seemed so desperate to perpetuate between themselves. Kerrak closed her fingertips just a little on Pinter's belly. Pinter's muscles fluttered, and she felt heat between her legs. She was one with the ritual, and she barely noticed the nub of pressure in the small of her back as Kerrak held her closer.

But then the pressure grew. Pinter opened her eyes, and she turned around. Kerrak's skirt billowed like a tent. "What the hell is that?" Pinter asked, not vindictive or angry but curious.

Kerrak didn't retreat. She stood there strong, so sure of herself. Pinter looked up at the Orc shaman's eyes, and she wanted to know. She wanted to look. She wanted Kerrak to show her. And then she did.

Kerrak undid the back of her skirt, and it fell to the floor. So did Pinter's jaw.


Commander Pinter Ch. 01



A long, thick, erect penis rose from Kerrak's front. It was green like the rest of her hairless skin. The green organ rose higher, exposed in the warm air of the cave, of the fire, and it ended in a round, shiny head. Two testicles rested firmly beneath, and Pinter knew it was functioning. She looked back up at Kerrak.

"Many Orc women have done this," Kerrak said. "We willed ourselves to two sexes."

"But...how?"

"Many years ago," Kerrak said, "long before I was born and when only Orc men did the fighting, the women were left alone to tend the villages. More often than not, the men did not return. We were on our own. Something we discovered was that, given the right moment, we could turn ourselves. We could still conceive a new generation, even if the men were gone."

"So you are male?" Pinter asked.

"No," Kerrak said. "Not entirely. But not entirely female. I am capable of both."

Pinter reached out, and she stopped her hand just short. She looked back up at Kerrak, who nodded just slightly. And Pinter touched her.

It was a cock. Nothing more. But it was Kerrak's. It was an Orc's. It was a woman's. Pinter's finger's closed around it, and it grew warmer though her palm, hot even. Pinter looked into Kerrak's eyes. She was breathless, and she felt her own heat rise. Maybe she was still reeling from the therapeutic strokes of the stone. Maybe she rode a wave of curiosity that her scant years couldn't control. Maybe she mourned for Druktag, Kerrak's son. Pinter never understood what drove her to do what she did, but as she held Kerrak's erection and pushed herself against the Orc's hard, muscular body, she reached her other hand for Kerrak's head. She grabbed her just below the ridge of Kerrak's Mohawk, and she pulled her down. Pinter kissed her.

Kerrak seemed to judge the moment, as well, hesitating in Pinter's embrace, but then she gave in. Her strong arms wrapped around Pinter and held her, and they kissed for a long time as they stood there. Kerrak's erection stood straight up between them. Pinter felt it move, and it set her heart beating faster. She wanted it then. She wanted it madly. Her hand dropped from Kerrak's head, reached to the back of the Orc's top, and nudged. Kerrak helped her, and the leather fell away.

Kerrak stood naked in Pinter's arms, her nipples dark green, almost black on the olive tone of her skin. Kerrak worked without Pinter even realizing, and her undergarments were gone, her own creamy smooth skin exposed to the cave air. They pressed together, their body heat combining, their chests rising and falling together with synchronous breath, growing deeper and steadier as their desire for each other grew stronger and stronger. Suddenly Kerrak picked up Pinter in her strong arms. Pinter wrapped her legs around Kerrak, and then she was on her back on the cave floor.

Kerrak placed her hands on either side of Pinter. Pinter put her hands around Kerrak's neck, and her legs spread wide as Kerrak aimed her erection. Pinter was soaking wet, her crotch glistening with lubricant, and Kerrak's cock spread the lips of Pinter's vagina as she pressed. As she entered.

Every inch of Kerrak went in. Pinter felt it almost to her navel, but she knew it was impossible. She was just wild with this moment, with the insanity of what was playing out. Kerrak kept her hands firmly on the cave floor. Pinter wrapped her legs around Kerrak's hips, and the Orc woman pulled back, leaving Pinter's insides in a closing void. She knew it was coming again, though, and Kerrak thrust into her.

Her hips worked with a steady rhythm, not so fast and hard that Pinter barely felt it or burned with the pressure, but Kerrak varied her pace as Pinter needed. Kerrak had done this before, Pinter gauged. Pinter had done this before, too, with some of her fellow Alliance trainees in Stormwind. None of them had been this big, although Kerrak was hardly a freak of nature. She was average for her size, Pinter thought, and it was just big enough that Kerrak could fuck her without completely missing her zones. Kerrak sensed each one, timing each thrust's speed and adjusting her movement accordingly. Pinter tried with all her might to keep her eyes on Kerrak's, failing again and again as she closed them, as rush after intense rush of flame shot through her core. She thought her abdomen must be bulging with Kerrak's size, with every thrust the Orc woman put into her.

Pinter's mind went blank. Her insides coursed, and she knew she was close. Just another few thrusts. She closed her eyes tight, her mouth opening in an "O," the corners of her lips rising in a smile, and she cried out in spastic moans that reverberated in the cave. Her hips bucked against Kerrak. Her canal tightened around the Orc, and Pinter was free in her orgasm.

Kerrak slowed down and stopped as Pinter rode it out, as her fingers dug into the back of the Orc's neck, as her breath went choppy and slowed down. Pinter's legs clenched around Kerrak's waist, and they loosened at the end of her pleasure, more a part of Pinter's thankful embrace to her lover than a demand for more. Pinter opened her eyes, and she looked up into Kerrak's gentle features, the older Orc woman's brow dotted with a few beads of sweat. Pinter was soaked in perspiration, and she bit her lip with a playful grin.

"Fully capable," Kerrak said.

"But you didn't come," Pinter said.

Kerrak shrugged. "Orcs are better at this," she said.

Pinter laughed. She gently nudged away Kerrak, guiding the Orc woman onto her back. Her erection was still strong and true, standing high above her. Pinter kissed Kerrak on the mouth. She went to go lower, but Kerrak pulled her back for another kiss. Pinter giggled, broke free, and she trailed a series of kisses down Kerrak's neck, between her breasts, pausing to suck one of the hard, black nipples, down Kerrak's belly where she poked her tongue into her navel and licked each rigid abdominal muscle.

Kerrak's cock twitched with her rising anticipation. Pinter remembered all of her lovers in Stormwind, the young boys who were so scared of themselves and so unsure of how to please her, sweet and silly in their way but ultimately frustrating with their own ignorance. Kerrak hadn't even hesitated. She knew what Pinter needed, and she took what she wanted. Now Pinter would have hers.

Pinter positioned herself between Kerrak's legs, and she saw the Orc's anatomy. Her cock rose high and erect over those two heavy testicles, but there was her vagina, its lips a darker green the rest of her body, slick with arousal, creamy from their sex. Pinter wouldn't worry about Kerrak's female pleasure right now. She gingerly took hold of the Orc's testicles, so much like small fruit floating inside the hot green scrotum. Pinter squeezed. Kerrak's cock twitched, and the shaman gasped.

Pinter ran her other hand up and down the long green shaft still slick with the juices of her orgasm, so rigid, pulsating even with so much male cum ready to burst forth. She traced her tongue up the veiny belly, tasting her salty fluid, and she slipped her lips around the head. The saliva in her mouth squeaked as Pinter sucked the bulbous knob.

Kerrak closed her eyes and winced. She groaned as Pinter slid most of the length into her mouth, the head touching briefly in the back of her throat. She sucked and ran her mouth up and down, up and down, all the while playing with Kerrak's testicles with her hand. The Orc woman arched her back, drew her strong legs higher, and clutched her breasts as Pinter sucked her. Pinter touched the Orc's slick pussy beneath the scrotum, and she realized how this strange anatomy worked. Kerrak's penis was her clitoris, somehow transformed into a functioning male sex organ by whatever will the Orc women had learned long ago and passed down hereditarily to future generations.

Pinter took her time on another long suck, her tongue pressing against the veiny belly, the organ swelling in her mouth as Kerrak moaned soft and deep. Pinter wondered then if Kerrak had been the "mother" or the "father" of Druktag. Had the testicles in her hand produced the seed, or was it the womb in her belly that carried the child?

It was a question she would never ask. It would ruin this night. Pinter gave Kerrak's scrotum another good squeeze. Kerrak cried out, and Pinter let go. She slid her mouth away from the Orc's penis, which was ready to pop. Kerrak looked down over her body as her belly rose and fell with her quick, deep breaths. "Why did you stop?" she asked.

"Because I want more," Pinter said, and she straddled Kerrak.

Pinter took the erection. She aimed it between her legs, and she lowered herself. She impaled herself. She sat slowly and delicately, relishing the familiar feel of Kerrak entering her, filling with her mass. Pinter took it all in and sat there for a moment. They stared at each other, Kerrak on the floor, Pinter in the position of authority. Pinter ran her hands up herself and took hold of her breasts, playing with them for Kerrak's amusement. Kerrak put her large hands on Pinter's ass. And they started.

Pinter thrust herself up and down with her thighs, bouncing on Kerrak's cock that penetrated deep inside her. Pinter closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment as Kerrak gripped her waist, ran her strong hands up and down the human girl's sides. Pinter looked down and met Kerrak's eyes, gazing deep into her brown orbs. She placed her hands on Kerrak's hard belly and bent over. She moved her hands up, and she grabbed the ample breasts on the Orc woman's chest. The feel of those beautiful, soft tits and the feel of that long cock planted nearly into her womb sent a fire through Pinter's core. She was riding a woman. A woman was giving her the greatest fuck she'd ever had, an Orc woman at that. Pinter squeezed Kerrak's breasts and laughed as she bounced eagerly on the thick cock, her own breasts jiggling with her rhythm. Kerrak moved her hands to Pinter's armpits, pulling the Human closer, thrusting in return to Pinter's bounces. The two women fucked each other as the wind howled outside the cave. Their moans mixed together, filling in the cavern, and they grew louder as they both neared their climaxes.

Pinter never looked away from Kerrak's brown eyes. The Orc's brow furrowed. Her face twisted into a pleading, exhausted strain, and Kerrak gritted her teeth, growling over her bottom fangs as her cock swelled even larger, thicker, harder inside of Pinter. They were inches away from coming. Pinter felt the muscles in her vagina tighten. Her belly convulsed, and she sped up her hips against Kerrak until the pleasure flared throughout her body.

Pinter screamed out. Her insides convulsed, her vagina clinging to Kerrak's cock in an undulating orgasm. Kerrak cried out in an alto beneath Pinter's scream, and Pinter felt it. Kerrak rumbled inside her as a wave of hot cum flooded her canal just as fresh juices flowed. The secretions mixed. Some of it leaked around Kerrak's massive erection still planted firmly inside Pinter. Some of it stayed inside, and Pinter felt it there warm and soothing. The thought of half-breed children crossed Pinter's mind, although she had no idea if it was even possible. She would worry about it when the time came. If it came.

Kerrak touched Pinter's cheek in a loving caress. Pinter crouched low over Kerrak, her blond hair masking their faces in a thick curtain. Kerrak smiled, and the age lines on her face went more pronounced. She was a beauty, this older Orc woman. She was strong, and she was lovely. Pinter took the bald sides of her head in her hands, and she kissed her again. They kissed for a long time.

The two women caught finally caught their breath. Pinter lay on top of her lover, Kerrak's erection going flaccid and sliding out of the Human, a mixture of Orc semen and pussy fluid coating both their sexes. Pinter lay flat on Kerrak's sweaty chest, still straddling the Orc woman, their breasts pressed gently together as the Orc traced her fingers in gentle strokes through Pinter's hair. They listened to the storm howl furiously outside the cave as the fire glowed, as they dared not speak, careful not to ruin the intimacy that had shattered their prejudices and united them this night, if only for one night. Eventually they fell into peaceful sleep, and fire light danced on the cave wall.

The storm died out sometime while they slept. When they woke, the fire was only a handful of glowing coals in a pile of gray ash. Outside was silence where the wind had surrendered. Pinter and Kerrak relished each other's naked heat for a little while, whispering to each other as dawn bled through the cave entrance, and then they dressed.

Not long afterward they stood at the mouth of the cave with the clouds golden shards overhead as the sun rose above the horizon. Kerrak gave Pinter an extra scarf for her face, and they faced each other, holding hands, saying goodbye as the young hunter remembered Khadgar's task.

"The Slag Mines are northeast of here," Kerrak said. "Across the Crackling Plains. Your journey will be less treacherous until then."

"Thank you," Pinter said. "For everything."

Kerrak grinned. She reached into her heavy cloak and produced her arm again, holding a stone that glowed with a strange rune. "Take this," Kerrak said.

"What is it?" Pinter asked as she found it much lighter than she thought.

"It's a healing rune," Kerrak said. "If things become too much, and they very well may. If you are on the brink, break it in half. You will be renewed."

Pinter stared at the glowing rune, some sort of Orcish enchantment that the Alliance could probably match but that Pinter was far too inexperienced to even know of. She looked dumbfounded up at Kerrak, stunned at the Orc's generosity. "You didn't have to do this," Pinter said.

"Yes I did," Kerrak said. "We fight the same foe. This world is too much for only one of us to handle."

Pinter put her gloved hand on the back of Kerrak's head and kissed her one more time. They lingered, because they knew if it ended it meant departing, probably for good. Pinter ran her tongue across Kerrak's fangs. Kerrak drank in Pinter, and the Human tasted her own sweetness on Kerrak's lips. Finally they did stop. Kerrak touched Pinter's cheek. Pinter smiled. And they parted.

She found the Slag Mines before noon. The jagged peaks of Stonefury Cliffs stuck out far ahead. Pinter maintained her pace. She marched confidently in the peaceful weather, thankful to whatever gods allowed her passage across Frostfire Ridge. As the mountains grew large and imposing a signal flare shot up into the sky, and Pinter headed for it.

Her four companions were already there. Dark, knowing, menacing, they eyed the young hunter with malignant expectancy. There were two Night Elves, one wearing a heavy animal pelt and two large bird skulls on his shoulder, a druid by Pinter's reckoning. The other was an arcane mage with a thick shroud covering his head, his red eyes the only indication of life inside the darkness. A tall Draenei female with sweeping horns, a paladin, stood taller even the Night Elves with a bright red breastplate over her dark black leggings, her shield looking as if three long axe heads had been welded together, a long sword like a thick tree trunk slung on her waist. A stout Dwarf shaman stood before them, obviously the party leader.

"Commander," the arcane mage sneered. Laughter rippled through the four adventurers.

"We've been waiting," the Dwarf shaman said in his thick accent. Decades of combat lines marked his face.

"The weather delayed me," Pinter said.

The Dwarf huffed, and they went in.

It was a battle. Ogres the size of Gnomish siege engines assailed them from every side. The Draenei paladin drew all enemies to herself with a war cry that she repeated again and again, that fueled Pinter and her companions as they mowed down wave after wave of mobs that tried to expel these tiny intruders. They left a long trail of dead. Pinter pulled arrow after arrow from the skulls of dead Ogres, and she knew each and every one of them found their mark because she thought of only one thing as she pulled back her bow, as she made it sing with a woody creak and then released her deadly fury. She thought of Kerrak's beautiful face, straining as they made love, her teeth gritted in her climax. Pinter never missed her mark. A dozen Ogres fell because of her perfectly aimed kill shots.

Finally they fought their way into Gug'rokk's lair. The Dwarf shaman gave a brief speech, challenging the colossal fire mage as he sat in his throne. Pinter's heart beat heavily as she longed for the coming fight. And then it began.

The Draenei hurled her shield as she charged, bringing it back to her hand as Gug'rokk shook off his momentary daze. Pinter stood close to the shaman as he laid down green healing totems. She fired a shot that somehow Gug'rokk flicked away with his staff. Pinter lined up another shot, aiming for his eye.

And then everything went wrong.

The druid had taken the form of a lion, and he roared as he lunged straight for Gug'rokk's throat. The hulking Ogre was swift, knocking the beast away with his staff, sending him to the floor stunned. The paladin howled to regain her threat, but she failed. The druid scampered to find his feet, but Gug'rokk slammed his fist down on the lion's head. There was a red splatter. Four limbs vibrated violently as the Night Elf returned to his normal form, but he was dead. A gory stain on the floor marked where his head had been.

The shaman stared in shock. Pinter couldn't believe her eyes, and then Gug'rokk swung his staff into the paladin's flank. She bent over sideways, dropping her sword, falling to one knee, and Gug'rokk slashed her with a dagger that somehow appeared in his hand.

The ground shook as the Ogre charged. The Night Elf mage ceased his spell-casting, screamed, turned, and ran. They never saw him again. The shaman stood his ground, putting down a fresh ring of healing totems, but then a fireball consumed him, unleashed by Gug'rokk as he charged. The Dwarf cried out in surprise. Then he cried out in agony as he ran aimlessly, as he burned alive. Gug'rokk laughed at the sight. Pinter was frozen in place watching the Dwarf die. There was nothing she could do to save him.

"Look out!"

It was the paladin, still alive somehow. Pinter looked up and leapt backwards just as the floor burst in a wave of fire. Gug'rokk raised his staff, summoning a tall fire elemental that floated towards one of the hot furnaces on the edge of the room. Pinter flicked an arrow into her bow, pulled quickly, and the elemental dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

Gug'rokk yelled something at her in his native tongue. He raised his staff again, and Pinter saw the fire. It spread in a wave, covering the floor, heading right for Pinter. She was running out of room fast. She was cornered, and soon she would be as dead as the Dwarf. There had to be something.

Gug'rokk charged through the flame as if pushing it. Pinter could see him silhouetted. She saw his staff glowing with a fresh orb of flame. She paused, focusing her sight. She had done this before, even though she didn't realize it. She had done this the previous day when she killed the worm. Pinter pushed the world away, forcing all external distractions into nothing, seeing only her target, knowing only her senses. She felt the distance between herself and the mage. She knew each microsecond it would take to draw her arrow. She knew how fast her shot would reach its mark. And she knew her mark. She felt Gug'rokk's staff as if she were the shot itself, and she broke the mage's weapon asunder with her fist. She saw it all.

And it was over. The fire vanished. Gug'rokk's staff fell to the floor as he staggered in shock, staring at this little Human who had interrupted his killing blow. But then he was dead before he fully comprehended his approaching end, Pinter's arrow sticking from his eye, piercing through the back of his skull. Gug'rokk took a few drunken steps. He teetered. And he fell flat on his back with a mighty crash. He was dead.




Commander Pinter Ch. 01



Reality returned to Pinter, and she ran past the dead Ogre, past the charred husk of the Dwarf. She ran to the Draenei paladin who still cried in pain near Gug'rokk's throne.

Her armor was shattered on her waist. Her dark purple skin was ripped open from Gug'rokk's dagger slash with chunky viscera in the wound. The Draenei didn't have long as blood poured from her in a thick pool. She looked at Pinter with eyes that glowed bright blue but knew death was only moments away. She didn't want to die. Pinter wasn't going to let her.

"I am here," Pinter said, and she pulled Kerrak's rune from her backpack. She held it over the Draenei's awful wound, and she cracked the stone in half.

A cloud of glowing cinders rained on the Draenei. They fell on her open innards with a loud sizzle, but the paladin didn't scream in pain. She was quiet as the wound regenerated before Pinter's eyes. The flesh regrew. The skin reappeared, covering the Draenei as if nothing had happened. The armor was still cracked and broken, but the paladin was alive. She was whole again. She touched her side when it was done, and she looked at Pinter. "You saved me," the Draenei said.

"I guess I did," Pinter said.

"My name is Mandala," the Draenei said as she sat up. Pinter took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Pinter."

They said nothing else as Mandala found her weapons. As she chopped off Gug'rokk's head. As Pinter took the Ogre's knife and cut the thorny ring from his finger. As Mandala ripped off his ear to get the stone trinket embedded in the cartilage. They said nothing as they left the chamber, as they retraced their steps along the trail of dead, as they thought of their two fallen comrades that they left behind, as there was no trace of their ally who had fled in terror. They found the entrance to the mines, and the sunset was as pink as a rose blossom in the west.

"It's a long way back to Shadowmoon Valley," Pinter said.

"Lead the way, Commander Pinter," Mandala said.



Commander Pinter Ch. 02



"The Orcs of Ironfist Harbor are funneling arms to Highmaul."

"Are you sure?" Pinter asked. "Yesterday in Gorgrond we found a pond full of waterbeasts instead of the Blackrock you promised."

Pinter stood with Scout Valdez at the operations table in her town hall. A blaze nearly the size of a bonfire roared in the large meeting room fireplace as soft, purple sunrise shone through the window. Scout Valdez shifted just slightly as he examined the map spread on the table. He had a strong constitution, but Pinter had grown so much in a few weeks. When she asked a question, she wanted an answer. "Qiana returned from her reconnaissance at midnight," Valdez said. "We are confident."

"Very well," Pinter said. "The day is clear. Destroy the supplies, kill the Highmaul emissary, and assassinate General Kul'krosh. I'll find Mandala."

"Good luck, Commander," Valdez said.

He clicked his heels and saluted. Pinter returned with her hand at her forehead, and she left the town hall.

News of Pinter's victory in the Slag Mines traveled fast. Very quickly Pinter earned a reputation, earned her gold, and won favor with Khadgar. Now she commanded a true fortress, nearly a castle, and one hundred Dwarves straight from Ironforge kept watch day and night. Pinter was a Commander, and she talked the part.

Pinter walked through the infant morning with the stiff smell of her stables permeating the dew-soaked air. The windows of the Testy Talbuk, her garrison inn, glowed soft and gentle with the day just beginning. She had the place built shortly after King Arian Wrynn himself expanded the walls of her garrison, and now she used it as the hub of her activities. Strange travelers somehow found their way to her garrison, each of them weaving some tale of adventure that usually ended with her and Mandala trekking to some dangerous part of Draenor and returning with whatever exotic treasure they had been sent for. The Testy Talbuk also attracted curious wanderers from Azeroth, and they were usually ripe for recruiting to her ranks, adding to garrison defense, volunteering for missions around Draenor to procure resources, loot gold, and cause general mayhem for the Iron Horde and their allies. The Testy Talbuk was also just a good place to enjoy a meal now and then, and Pinter even had her own private room if she ever wanted it.

Innkeeper Allison looked up from the bar as she ran a white cloth down its length. She smiled for Pinter and already bubbled with enthusiasm despite the early hour. "Good morning, Commander!"

"Is Mandala upstairs?" Pinter asked.

"Same room," Allison said with a smirk. "Same room."

Pinter passed a few tables already filled with workers from the barn enjoying breakfast before they spent the day toiling until sunset. She nodded at them as they greeted her, and she walked to the staircase.

She didn't have to knock. As soon as Pinter reached the top step, two Dwarves wandered out of a corner room in just their underclothes, their armor in heaping handfuls that they struggled through as they kicked open the door with their feet. They saw Pinter and paused, staring over the mounds in their hands.

"Morning, fellas," Pinter said.

"Commander," one of the Dwarves said, and that was that. Pinter stepped aside as they went to the stairs.

She opened the door and found the purple-skinned Draenei sitting naked on the bed with her armor laid out at her feet. "Commander Pinter," Mandala said. "I'll be ready shortly."

"Honestly, don't you ever spend time in your own garrison?" Pinter asked.

"I have Draenei guarding mine," Mandala said, her accent so wonderful to Pinter's ears. "Your Dwarves are so much more fun."

Pinter shook her head as Mandala laughed to herself. She stood, and the beautiful curves so common to her race snaked their way through the early morning. Pinter had a glimpse of dark nipples on Mandala's perfect breasts. Draenei women truly were a sight, absolutely lovely, seemingly so delicate, but then Mandala hefted her plate leggings up to her waist. The paladin was a little wild, sure, but Pinter trusted no one else in the dark depths of Draenor. "Just be ready to fly," Pinter said. "We're assaulting Ironfist Harbor."

"You are far too serious," Mandala said as she slipped into her red breastplate. "You need some fun in your life."

Pinter laughed, deflecting the jest, and she went back to the dining room for a cup of warm milk.

Maybe Mandala was right. After all, Pinter had saved Mandala's life, snatching her back from the edge when death was just moments away. Ever since the fight in Bloodmaul, Mandala had been staying in Pinter's garrison, enjoying the company, sleeping with whoever she could convince. Mandala didn't have to do much with a body like hers. Pinter typically found her with one or two lovers each morning, usually Dwarven defenders, sometimes the mysterious traveler from the day before. Why wouldn't Mandala enjoy herself when she had been so close to the end?

Pinter had done nothing but build her garrison since Bloodmaul, since her night with Kerrak. Maybe she could stand to loosen up, too. But every time she thought she had a free moment to be easy and relax, some other instance demanded Pinter's attention. She loved her life and was proud of what she knew Kerrak had helped her become. She was thankful for the chance to share something so magical with someone who had needed it just as badly as she did, but now Pinter had bigger business to attend to. She was a Commander, and so she acted like one.

Mandala dressed quickly indeed. She joined Pinter at the bar for a glass of milk in her full set of armor, her domineering visage drawing the usual awed stares from the garrison laborers in the dining room. Pinter and Mandala toasted the day, and then they bought their gryphon rides into Nagrand.





Commander Pinter Ch. 02



"It's here," Pinter said. "Let it in. Just be patient."

The defenders lined up in a wall as the machine grumbled into the garrison. Like a box on four wheels, the giant engine advanced. Pinter saw a Goblin manning the canon that swiveled back and forth, finding its marks, firing at a group of Dwarves that scattered away just in time to avoid being blown to pieces.

The wall of defenders retreated slowly until the engine was completely inside the garrison. Then they closed ranks in a ring. Slowly Pinter noticed that there were far more defenders than there were before, and she realized people were coming from all over. Pinter recognized townsfolk who should be hiding in the mine. Anger flared for just a second until she realized that they only meant to pitch in. They were defending her garrison as much as the Dwarf defenders who had borne the brunt of this invasion. Every average citizen wanted to lend a hand. Pinter smiled.

Then she was airborne as the ground erupted beneath her feet.

She flew into the tannery, crashing into a stretched out hide that the shop keep had spread display, and she tumbled in a heap on the floor. Clouds fogged her vision and she shook her head quickly to regain her senses. Where was her bow? Pinter reached around blindly.

And she looked up into the grinning face of a Blood Elf.

Pinter froze. The Blood Elf bore the red insignia of the Horde of Azeroth, and he held some sort of incendiary device in one hand. In the other he held a long, thin knife. The Blood Elf sneered at Pinter in the moment of his victory. "For the Horde," he said.

A mighty roar like a lion ripped apart the day. The Blood Elf looked up just in time as the Saberon lunged, crashed into him, and proceeded to tear him to pieces in a flurry of claws and fangs. The Blood Elf screamed in shock and pain. He struggled for a moment, blindly swinging his knife into the Saberon's face, but it was futile. The Saberon gave one more swipe of his claws. The Blood Elf's head rolled across the floor.

Pinter rose from her crouch. She found her bow, but she kept her eye on the Saberon who caught his breath over the dead intruder. The Saberon turned. His chin was covered in blood.

Pinter never flinched in fear. This creature had saved her. He had meant to protect her. "Thank you," Pinter said.

The Saberon bounded away, up the road, back to the barn. Pinter ran back into the open, and she found her defenders keeping the engine at bay. The Goblin swung his canon back and forth, but he couldn't get a good shot from all the rifle fire. Mandala circled with her warriors, but none of them could find a way through the heavily armored engine. It was a stalemate. There had to be something, something they had missed. Something that could end this in victory.

Pinter remembered the Blood Elf. She dove to his body, and she found the bomb in his hand. She pried open his dead fingers and took it, figuring out how the fuse worked, pulling away the device's butt. A low hiss came from inside, and Pinter ran.

She was on the engine in seconds. She found a hatch. She pulled it open, dropped in the bomb, and looked up.

The Goblin stared at her in comical shock.

Pinter jumped from the engine.

It died with a heavy explosion deep in its guts. The engine went still. Flame shot up from the seat at the canon. The Goblin screamed in pain and jumped down, running about in a ball of fire. Mandala put him out of his misery with a quick slash. Pinter looked back at what she had done.

The engine smoked from its hatches and ventilation shafts. It was dead.

A mighty cheer went up from the townsfolk, from the defenders, from Mandala. All eyes were on Pinter, who had won the day.





Commander Pinter Ch. 03



Shattrath City expanded in a wide field of destruction beneath Pinter and Mandala. Once the bastion of Draenei civilization, the hub of all enterprise, philosophy, and religion of Draenor culture, the city was a smoldering heap. Pinter had been here before. She was sure Mandala had been here, too. Alliance and Horde forces had joined Khadgar, Thrall, and other allies in an assault to drive away the Iron Horde and liberate Shattrath Harbor. The Draenei heroine Yrel had led the charge, and Pinter had been in her frontline. She had celebrated their victory when they defeated the Orc warlord Blackhand. That was months ago, and in that time the Sargeri and their Burning Legion masters had moved into Shattrath before the city could repopulate and rebuild. It happened so easily that nobody noticed. Now Shattrath burned once again. Khadgar had called upon Pinter once more, this time to infiltrate Sargeri territory and recover something precious, something that could aid them in their efforts to restore Draenor. Pinter heeded the call, and Mandala followed her into the depths of darkness. 

Their gryphons circled deftly away from a line of floating crystals that suddenly flashed and sparked in every direction. There was a crack like thunder, and the sky erupted in little explosions as incoming canon fire burst harmlessly on the outskirts of the city. The gryphons banked and dove to a platform, and they landed easily as a Draenei mount master rushed up with leashes. 

"We move fast," Pinter said as she removed her excess gear. "We have a mission and there's no time for distractions." 

Mandala stood at the edge of the platform. She gripped the guard rail in her red plate gloves. She stared over the ruins of the once proud Draenei capital. Mandala turned her head away from the devastated sight, and Pinter saw them welling with tears. 

Mandala was a Draenei of Azeroth. She had grown up on Azuremyst Isle, and she had never seen the beauty of her race's home world. Pinter couldn't imagine the heartbreak rushing through the paladin's soul now that she had returned to her point of origin only to find it burning and stolen. She put her hand on Mandala's heavy, purple spaulder. "I have to know you're with me," Pinter said. 

"I am with you," Mandala said in her rich accent. "The Sargeri will pay." 

"There's no time for distractions," Pinter said. 

"Then they will have to get out of my way," Mandala said, drawing her huge sword, pulling her axe-blade shield from her back. "They are no longer Draenei." 

Pinter wouldn't press it any further. She trusted Mandala, and the paladin was fierce enough to make it through this. Pinter just wanted to spend as little time as possible completing Khadgar's quest. There were dangerous things in Shattrath now, and she wanted nothing to do with them. 

They charged past Draenei captains who rallied their troops for another assault. They ran like the wind to the elevator that carried wave after wave of soldiers who charged to meet the dark enemy that pushed their endless attack against the weary defenders. As Pinter ran she noticed a man in red armor at her side, and she saw it was a Blood Elf. He bore no insignia of allegiance to the Azeroth Horde, indicating that he was native to Draenor, but Pinter still felt her blood rise. The invasion of her garrison still plagued her mind, her encounter with the Blood Elf who had nearly slit her throat. Pinter looked away from the young soldier at her side, reminding herself that they fought a common foe for the sake of Draenor and Azeroth. She focused on the elevator straight ahead. 

They moved fast and uncontested. They ran deep into Sargeri territory. They cut down Orc mages and Ogre warlocks, and Pinter wondered how deep this infestation of evil went into the peoples of Draenor. Where did this endless scourge come from? She pulled an arrow from the chest of a dying Ogre and kicked his head roughly, breaking his neck. If Ogres had fallen prey to this diseased practice, everything was at risk. The evil in this world had to be stopped, and they had to do it now. 

Pinter looked around. Mandala was gone. "Mandala?" 

In answer, Mandala screamed a war cry like nothing Pinter had heard before. She turned, and there was the paladin facing down four Draenei Sargeri, two priests by Pinter's eyes and two warlocks. Pinter loaded the gathered arrow in her bow and ran to join Mandala, but as she ran she watched her friend cut one of the priests in half at the waist and slam her shield onto the legs of a warlock. Mandala cut off the second priest's hand that glowed darkly with a half-conjured spell. She swung her sword in a killing strike on the two severely wounded assailants, and finally Mandala threw her shield into the back of the last fleeing warlock. The shield stuck, severing the Draenei's spine, and she fell with a mournful wail that turned Pinter's stomach. The young hunter finally caught up as Mandala raised her sword over the stricken warlock who could only watch as death raced into her with cold steel, crushing her rib cage, crushing her life into the dust. "Mandala!" 

Mandala stood cool and calm. She lifted her bloody sword, and she looked at Pinter with her bright blue glowing eyes. Mandala wiped her nose on the bicep of her exposed upper arm. "We're done here," she said. "Where is this sanctum?" 

"At the harbor's edge," Pinter said with an inquisitive slant to her eye. "The tallest spire, Khadgar said." 

"Then let's go," Mandala said, and they continued. 

Their destination appeared as they moved, a round pillar that rose high above the burning city. Pinter and Mandala ran through an open market area, and the loud commotion of battle drew their gaze. Twenty Draenei soldiers surrounded a lumbering demon giant, one of the Fel Legionnaires that Pinter had heard rumors about. The Legionnaire wielded a sword that dwarfed the barrel of the mightiest Azeroth siege engine and raised his hands high in the air, summoning an earthquake of rocky spikes that scattered the Draenei. But they were unperturbed. They fought bravely, and they regrouped every time it looked like the Legionnaire would gain the advantage. "Keep moving," Pinter said. "They can handle it." 

"Not our mission," Mandala said, and they ran on to the spire. 

The building rose over them ancient and powerful. This was a holy place, something sacred to Draenei and Blood Elf society, now corrupted by darkness. Pinter and Mandala went inside, and they were greeted with deafening silence. Pinter checked the exits of the main hall, two doorways on opposite sides of the room. "Let's split up," Pinter said. "Meet back here in thirty minutes, with or without the stone." 

"I'll go left," Mandala said. 

And she was off. Pinter watched her friend head for the doorway, her tail sprouting from her plate leggings and bouncing as she walked, her hooves clacking on the sheer marble floor. There was no time to worry about her. They had their mission. Pinter went right. 

She poked through three rooms, emptying shelves, scattering books on the floor. She overturned desks and felt along the walls for hidden compartments. But there was nothing. Pinter continued up the hall, and she found herself in what looked like a lounge. Soft velvet chairs sat along the wall, around some sort of fountain that flowed from an underground well. More bookshelves surrounded her, reaching to the ceiling and occupying half of the room. 

Pinter's heart beat in her ears. The overwhelming silence hanged thick in the air like cobwebs. She slid a few books from the shelves, and something told her the stone wasn't here. It was almost time to return to the hall. She and Mandala would search the upper parts of the sanctum together. Pinter slid a few cushions from the chairs, finding a hidden sack of gold that she would split with Mandala. She stood, and then the air went frozen all around her. 

"Deary, oh, dear," a smooth female voice said behind her. 

Pinter whirled around to see a woman with wide bat wings facing her. She wore a slick loincloth around her waist and an even thinner one over her breasts. Her legs ended in hooves much like a Draenei's, but this was not an ally of the Alliance. Pinter didn't know what this was, and she drew her bow quickly. "Stand down, wench," Pinter said. "Or I will put you down." 

The woman laughed. "You wouldn't do that," she said. "Not to the one you love." 

"What do you mean?" Pinter asked, but her voice trailed off. 

The woman transformed before Pinter's eyes. The wings dissolved. The hooves turned into humanoid feet. Her skin went olive green, her head bald with a white Mohawk. Pinter recognized the lines of age on the face even before the features were fully finished. "Kerrak?" 

The Orc shaman stood there in the Shattrath sanctum. Kerrak held out her hands to Pinter, and she smiled like a long-lost friend. "It's good to see you, Pinter," Kerrak said. 

Pinter dropped her bow. Her conscious thought fled, and she walked on feet that seemed to be hers but moved with a command that came from elsewhere. She didn't resist. She would never resist, not when Kerrak had suddenly returned to her. Pinter smiled in relief. "I thought I would never see you again." 

"Don't worry about that," Kerrak said, and they embraced. Pinter sank into those muscular arms. She breathed in Kerrak's scent. And they kissed. 

Kerrak took off her scant clothing, revealing her Orc cock that was already rising with arousal. Pinter rubbed it with both hands, squeezing Kerrak's wonderful testicles, and the Orc pulled Pinter to the ground. She removed Pinter's mail leggings. It was all they needed. Pinter was wet, and she sat on Kerrak, wrapping her legs around the Orc woman, sliding down on that thick cock that had fucked her so hard and incredibly over a month ago. Pinter bounced on Kerrak's cock, feeling the organ hot and wild inside her, deep and impossible. She looked on Kerrak's face and saw the familiar strain, the age lines so defined as they both neared their climax. Kerrak welled inside of Pinter. She would come, and she would scream in pleasure and relief, because she was with Kerrak again. She was home. 

"Pinter!" 

The room swirled in a vaporous cloud, and Pinter realized she was on her knees. She couldn't breathe. Something was around her throat. That woman's hand! She was being strangled! She stared up into the demoness's wicked eyes, and the woman turned her head behind her. 

Mandala's shield flew in. The woman knocked it away and hissed at the Draenei paladin as she rushed to attack. Pinter fell on her side, finally able to draw precious breath, and she watched as Mandala fought, as she ducked a whip that had appeared from thin air, as she chopped away the woman's legs and rammed the edge of her axe shield into her neck. Purple light flared, staining the room for a moment, and the woman burst in a cloud of gas. Mandala rushed to help Pinter to her feet. "Are you all right?" Mandala asked. 

"What was it?" Pinter asked as she coughed the strength back into her lungs. 

"A Concubine of Sin," Mandala said. "A succubus. Are you all right, Pinter?" 

"I am," Pinter said as Mandala handed over her bow. "We should get moving and search the rest of this place." 

"I have the stone," Mandala said. She pulled the dark blue gem from her backpack, turning it in the light to show off the crazy little reflections that danced all over its surface. "In and out, right?" 

"Right," Pinter said. "Let's get back to Khadgar." 

They left the sanctum. They ran past the corpse of the dead Legionnaire, and they returned to their flight station. The rumbles of battle were silent for once in Shattrath. 

* * * 

Zangara was a wetland full of freakishly large mushrooms more akin to the redwood trees of Westfall. They opened wide like umbrellas over the misty blue marsh, a weird forest in which strange floating creatures fluttered like ocean flounder. Pinter scanned the exotic landscape from the plateau over which Khadgar's tower kept watch in Zangara. It was a magical place, the perfect place for the Kirin Tor to base their operations. Magic seemed to generate from everything here in Zangara. 

A bald little Gnome wearing a purple robe walked out of Khadgar's tower. He bowed his head in greeting to Pinter and Mandala. "The Archmage will see you now," he said. 

Khadgar waited for them in the center of the room. The white-haired mage smiled in greeting as Pinter and Mandala approached. "Commander Pinter," Khadgar beamed. "A pleasure to see you again." 

"Archmage," Pinter said, and she laughed startled as Khadgar took her hands and pecked both her cheeks in welcome. He went to Mandala and did the same. Khadgar was so welcoming to everyone that entered his sanctum. 

"We found what you requested," Mandala said, producing the blue gem from her backpack. 

Khadgar took the gem and held it in front of him. "Ah, good," he said. "It belongs here, away from the Sargeri and anyone else who would pervert it further. Of course now you get what I promised you. You don't perform my instructions merely for my personal gain. We are all soldiers against the Iron Horde, and all of you have sacrificed more than enough for what little we have reclaimed so far. There is much to be done. Hopefully this will assist you further." 

Khadgar tossed up the gem and stepped back. To Pinter and Mandala's amazement it floated above them. "This is a rare find," Khadgar said. "A Whispering Crystal. Who knows how it ended up in Sargeri hands? To possess it is to hold the reins of madness itself. Therefore, one must be careful how one ensnares it." 

Khadgar went to work conjuring lights and flames out of thin air. Mandala watched wide-eyed as the show unfolded, giggling like a little girl as Khadgar flicked his hands and fingers, spinning the stone to and fro as he crafted something magical.  

Pinter would have been equally amazed if her mind hadn't suddenly gone miles away. Her mail chest guard suddenly felt much too heavy, much too hot for this humid environment. Pinter pulled at her collar trying to cool herself. She fidgeted on her feet, and then her leggings felt far too tight. Pinter found her breath again, but she breathed deeply. She couldn't focus. Pinter ran her hands down her chest, over her breasts, and she viciously fought the sudden urge to squeeze them, to grind them inside her top and make her nipples burn, to fall to her knees, to rip away her leggings and masturbate furiously until she came so hard and loud and wet that - 

"Excuse me," Pinter said quietly, and she left Khadgar's sanctum. 

"Pinter?" Mandala asked, but she was already outside. 

Pinter grabbed the rail overlooking the misty ravine and panted heavily. She unhooked her hood and pulled it away, letting a cold rush of fresh air down her back to cool herself. Pinter unwound, and soon her thoughts returned as the marsh restored her mind and body. "What the hell was that?" Pinter said softly. 

"Are you all right, Commander?" Pinter looked behind her, looked down at the Gnome mage who had allowed her and Mandala into Khadgar's sanctum. 

"I'm okay," Pinter said. "I just came over a little flustered." 

"Shattrath is a dangerous place now, Commander," the Gnome said. "There are evil things there, things that shouldn't be on this side of our world. Some of their effects are hard to shake off." 

"I'll be fine," Pinter said as she hooked her hood back around her neck. Just then Mandala emerged from Khadgar's sanctum. The Draenei spotted Pinter, and she held two blue stones in her hands. 

"Are you okay?" Mandala asked. 

"I'm fine," Pinter said with authority, and even she recoiled from the sound of her voice. 

Mandala raised her eyebrow and glanced at the Gnome, who glanced back. "Very well," Mandala said, and she offered Pinter one of the stones. "A gift from Khadgar. Our reward." 

Pinter took the stone. The Gnome gushed with awe. "Oh, what a treat!" he said. "Two Whispering Crystals!" 

"Made from the one we retrieved," Mandala said. "Khadgar said to carry it with us into battle. Give it a listen. We will be too much for any Ogre to overcome." 

"Yes you will," the Gnome said. "That is quite a gift." 

"Khadgar has my thanks," Pinter said. And she left with Mandala. 

Pinter tugged at her collar in discomfort the entire ride home. 

* * * 

They landed back in the garrison and went their separate ways. Mandala returned to the Testy Talbuk to clean up and have dinner. Pinter made the rounds of her tannery, barn, and mine, after which she retired to her chamber in the town hall. She kicked off her boots and sat on the edge of her bed, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the wall. The passion on her flight home had dissipated, but it left a tugging sensation in her gut. She felt alone all of a sudden, stranded, and she wanted someone. Anyone. Before she knew it, Pinter had put her boots on and was walking to the Testy Talbuk. 

Pinter tapped her knuckle on Mandala's closed door. She prayed that Mandala wasn't already occupied with someone. She didn't know where else to turn, but to Pinter's relief she heard hoof-steps. The door opened, and Mandala stood there in cloth pants and an undershirt, drying her brown hair. "Pinter," Mandala said in pleasant surprise. "What brings you here?" 

"Have you eaten yet?" Pinter asked. 

"No, I was about to," Mandala said. 

"May I join you?" 

"Absolutely, Commander," Mandala said. "Let me finish dressing and I'll meet you downstairs." 

Pinter found a corner table. She sat quietly nursed the ale that Innkeeper Allison brought, smiling politely at the various laborers who gathered for their supper. Pinter never dined in the Testy Talbuk. She was a curiosity as she waited, a beacon of attention. The isolation that had overwhelmed her in her chamber returned to her then, covering her like a shroud. She nearly got up and left before Mandala came downstairs to join her. 

They split a flank of roasted elekk, and they drank to their many victories. Mandala was only a few years older than Pinter by a Draenei's reckoning, but she had seen so much as a soldier of the Alliance. She had been to the Molten Front and defeated Ragnaros in the Firelands. She had joined Jaina Proudmoore and the Kirin Torr on the Isle of Thunder, and she had laid Siege to Orgrimmar, teaming up with a Tauren druid to kill General Nazgrim. "You killed Nazgrim?" Pinter asked. 

Mandala nodded with an eye on Pinter over the edge of her mug. She swallowed, and she wiped her mouth. "Quite the fight," Mandala said. 

"I was in line at the Stormwind recruiting station," Pinter said. 

"You have done great things here, Commander," Mandala said. 

"Don't call me that," Pinter said. 

"You deserve what you have created," Mandala said. "These people would run off a cliff for you if you asked them." 

"I might as well," Pinter said. "I'm no Commander. I'm no hero. I'm not as strong as you." 

"Not as..." Mandala cut herself off with a pang of impatience. "You saved my life. Or have you forgotten the day we met? You killed Gug'rokk singlehandedly while the rest of us died or fled. It was only by the grace of the Naaru that I live, that you were with us, that you came back for me and helped me. I thank the Light that Khadgar sent you to us." 

"I haven't really been on top of things since then," Pinter said. "There are so many dangers here in Draenor that could kill me, and all of them find me somehow or other." 

"You are upset about the Blood Elf?" Mandala asked. 

"I don't know," Pinter said. 

"And today," Mandala said. "The Concubine." 

Pinter fidgeted. 

"Do you realize what your presence meant to me today?" Mandala asked. "I was on the edge. Having you with me kept me from spilling over. The greatest thing I could do for you is return the favor, and I could never repay you for all that you have done." 




Commander Pinter Ch. 03



"That's just it," Pinter said. "I always need someone to return a favor. I can't just do something on my own. Someone has to save me." 

"Stop doubting," Mandala said, leaning low, looking Pinter square in the eye. "You are Commander to these people. They believe in you. All of us, myself included, have seen the great things you have done, and they are many. So what if you can't do everything by yourself? Even the best of us can't. I was in an army that stormed Orgrimmar. No single one of us could have done that on our own. You have touched everyone in this garrison. We have been inspired by you. We will follow you. We will fight for you, and we will die for you. That is true greatness, when someone will give everything they have because they believe in something powerful." 

Pinter laughed embarrassed. "I wouldn't call myself powerful," she said. "That sword of yours, now, that's powerful." 

"And I didn't even loot it," Mandala said. "I bought it at the Trade District Auction House, someone else's spoils of Northrend." 

"I see your point," Pinter said. 

Mandala rested her hands on the table. Pinter took them, and she held them. "Thank you," Pinter said. "Thank you so much." 

They looked at each other then, the blue light in Mandala's eyes flickering as Pinter knew whatever pupils were in them looked back and forth between hers. Pinter smiled, and so did Mandala. "The Light has truly embraced you, Commander," Mandala said. 

Two hours of drinking passed, and they were laughing and singing Stormwind bar songs that Pinter and her hunter friends sang in training. Mandala tried to teach Pinter a few phrases of Draenei, but Pinter's lips were too rubbery and loose from alcohol to master them. Mandala laughed and threw her arm around Pinter, and before they knew it they were the only two left in the dining room. 

"Terribly sorry, Allison," Pinter said, her head swimming as she and Mandala stood. 

"It's okay," Allison said. "It's nice to have our Commander with us for a night." 

"I'll have to teach Pinter to keep up with me," Mandala said. "You Humans talk a big game, but you have the constitution of a Gnome." 

Pinter punched Mandala's shoulder while Allison laughed, bussing the ale mugs from their table. "Would you like to use your room tonight, Commander?" Allison asked. "It's always available if you want it." 

"I think I might," Pinter said. "A nice change of pace." 

Pinter tipped the staff the bag of gold she had found in Shattrath, much to their delight, and she followed Mandala upstairs. They turned up the second flight, and Pinter's gaze moved up the back of Mandala's legs, up her purple tail. She locked onto Mandala's ass which stuck up and out with that wonderful posture the Draenei women had on their hoofed feet. The way they walked. It was as if Draenei women understood exactly how beautifully constructed their bodies were, and they didn't so much flaunt it as exhibit it. Mandala's ass ticked back and forth with a slow, natural rhythm. Pinter couldn't look away. 

Just then she felt that heat from earlier rise once again, and it was all she could do not to grab Mandala right there on the stairs, rip down her pants, lick her asshole, and rub her clit until she screamed with the biggest orgasm she ever had. Pinter fought to control her breath as they reached the top of the stairs. 

Mandala went to her door, opening it a crack. "I'll see you in the morning?" she asked. 

Pinter stopped with her hand on her knob. Her heat was nearly out of control. "Actually," Pinter said, "would you like to talk some more?" 

Mandala cocked her head curiously. "Sure," Mandala said. "Whatever you want." 

Pinter closed the door after she let Mandala in. Her room was spacious, a giant bed, a wide sofa with enough chairs to entertain a faction of ambassadors if needed. Mandala looked around in wonder. "This is quite the room," she said. She looked back at Pinter. "So what troubles you?" 

Pinter said nothing. She kept her eyes on Mandala's. She was absolutely on fire now. Something the succubus had done to her, some lingering magical effect from her hallucination that needed to play out. Pinter had to satisfy herself. She wanted Mandala. 

As she drew near she could see it in Mandala's eyes. Mandala knew what was about to happen. The Draenei didn't retreat. She didn't protest. In fact she wanted it. Pinter tasted it in her kiss as Mandala lowered her head just a little to accept Pinter's lips. Pinter tasted ale, and she was sure her lips tasted the same, but there was a sweetness to Mandala. The paladin had wanted this for some time. Pinter tasted it in her kiss. It would happen tonight. Pinter needed it to happen. 

Their hands dipped beneath each other's shirts, up their bellies, onto breasts that waited with glowing expectation. Pinter lifted her arms as Mandala raised her shirt. Mandala's was gone in seconds, and they embraced again, their naked chests held close together, and Pinter basked in the warmth she felt from Mandala's steady heartbeat. The Draenei's breasts perked the way her ass did, angled with her posture. They practically begged for someone to suck them, and Pinter did so. 

Mandala moaned softly as Pinter closed her mouth over one of her dark nipples. She ran her tongue back and forth, and Mandala twisted. Pinter's lips smacked, and she sucked Mandala again. She did it a few more times. Mandala's arms wrapped tighter around Pinter, and they fell onto the bed. 

Their limbs entwined as they kissed each other over and over. Pinter clutched one of Mandala's sweeping horns. Mandala's hand went straight up the back of Pinter's head, her fingers combing through all that blonde hair. They held each other tight, and then Mandala's hand was between Pinter's legs. Pinter flinched in her pleasure, and then she put her own hand onto Mandala's crotch. Their fingers worked. Pinter was soaked. She squirmed and slid her hand down the front of Mandala's pants. 

Mandala opened her legs, guiding Pinter along. Pinter's fingers found the small mound of her clitoris. She was soaking wet, too. Pinter grasped lower with her fingers, and Mandala gasped as Pinter played with the folds of her pussy. 

Pinter flicked away Mandala's belt. Mandala giggled and kicked her hooves as Pinter plucked away her cloth pants, and the Draenei lay there naked, her purple skin lovely, calling out for Pinter's hands. Pinter wanted her, and she tossed her pants in the corner next to Mandala's, sliding her creamy, naked skin along the beautiful purple Draenei who was in her bed. 

They kissed more. Mandala put her leg between Pinter's, and Pinter pressed against her knee. She could have come right then if she wanted to, getting herself off with a few grinds, but she crawled up Mandala's striking body. She put her thighs on either side of Mandala's head. And the Draenei pulled her down. 

Pinter gasped loud and doubled over as Mandala's tongue swirled around her labia. She pulled the bed sheets as the slick muscle poked inside her, and she cried out as Mandala flicked the tip quickly over her clit. Pinter clutched Mandala's head, her horns, her hair. She felt herself getting closer. But still she wanted more. "Mandala, wait," Pinter said breathlessly. 

"Hmm?" Mandala said between Pinter's legs. And then Pinter swung herself around. She positioned her legs and she played with Mandala's exquisite breasts that had pulled gorgeously flat on her chest. Pinter felt Mandala tug on her ass, but Pinter knew what she craved. She bent over. She pulled open Mandala's legs. Mandala understood, drawing her hooves up as Pinter bent over. Pinter opened the lips of Mandala's pussy with two fingers, revealing the pink interior, smelling her musky sex as she put her face in her crotch. Pinter licked her. And Mandala went back to work. 

They came together. Pinter's fingers dug into the Draenei's thighs as she ate out her friend, as Mandala's tongue lapping around her pussy sent her closer to her climax. Pinter's brow furrowed, and she focused on her work, on Mandala's clit, pursing her lips, sucking, flicking it wildly with the tip of her tongue. Mandala's hands clutched Pinter's ass so tightly she thought the Draenei would shatter her hips. Mandala moaned loudly through her closed mouth. Her stomach twitched against Pinter's breasts. Pinter rocked back and forth against Mandala's mouth, crying out over and over as Mandala moaned again long and loud. Mandala drew up tight, her legs curling around Pinter's head. 

Pinter bucked as she came, feeling a warm flow of juice from her pussy. Creamy cum oozed out of Mandala, and Pinter watched, catching her breath as they rode out the ends of their orgasms, loving every nanosecond of this amazing thing she had just shared with her friend. Just then a primal urge erupted in her and she licked Mandala clean, every last drop of her cum lapped up in a frenzy. Mandala cooed quietly as Pinter licked her. Pinter was still wild, the succubus's spell not yet expired. She needed more. Pinter got off of Mandala, and she turned to face her. 

Mandala opened her eyes, her body drenched in sweat, her hair splayed on the pillow. She smiled. "Have you done that before?" 

"I'll never tell," Pinter said. 

Mandala laughed, and she sat up to kiss Pinter. "Get on your back," Mandala whispered in Pinter's ear. "I have something for you." 

Perfect, Pinter thought as she complied, her fire burning fiercely. Pinter opened her legs as Mandala crouched before her. The remnants of her orgasm glistened on her inner thighs, which chilled as Mandala leaned in, as she breathed. Pinter clutched her breasts as they flared with expectation. Mandala licked her. Pinter gasped. Mandala looked up with those eyes of blue light, and she smiled. Something knowing. Pinter watched as Mandala held up her hand, her fingers together in an aerodynamic point. Mandala never looked away from Pinter as she licked her fingers, as she coated them in her mouth, and she put them between Pinter's legs. 

Pinter's belly rose and fell with ragged breaths. "Just relax," Mandala said. "You'll love this." 

Mandala entered her. Pinter's pussy took her in, a slow penetration, and then it felt like a stone being pressed into her as Mandala pushed through her knuckles. Pinter moaned with the pressure. She tensed a little, but Mandala caressed her belly. "Just relax," Mandala said. 

Pinter eased up, and Mandala's hand slid all the way inside her. Pinter's hands groped blindly at anything they could grasp. Mandala curled her fingers slowly into a fist. Pinter moaned louder, and she tightened, just a little. 

"You can squeeze me," Mandala said. "It's okay. It's good, isn't it?" 

"Mhmm," Pinter heard herself say someplace distant. She was gone in their sex. Mandala started thrusting with short, quick motions. Pinter couldn't fight it. She breathed deeper and deeper, moaned louder and louder, felt her thighs drenching with the fluids that seemed to pour out of her. Mandala was planted deep, every zone in Pinter's canal burning with the motion. Pinter heard her moans going ragged, speeding up, growing louder. She had closed her eyes at some point, and she felt tears running through the tightly pressed lids. This was going to be a monster come. She loosened her core, not resisting. And she burst. 

Pinter's back arched up almost in a ring. Her body undulated with her orgasm, and finally it ended with Pinter motionless in her twisted form. She caught her breath. She couldn't tell how loud she had screamed, if she had screamed. Mandala pulled out her hand. Pinter finally opened her eyes. She laughed. 

"Did you like that?" Mandala asked. 

Pinter relaxed her body and looked down. Mandala held up her hand, coated slick and a little foamy with Pinter's fluids. The insides of her thighs were glazed now after two orgasms, after the colossal come she had just endured. There was a wet spot on the sheets. Pinter reached for Mandala. "Come here." 

They kissed, holding each other tight, loving their bodies. They played with each other some more and came a few more times, but Pinter's fire had extinguished. Her passion was controlled. The rest of their lovemaking was out of pure fun, solely for the experience, exploring each other and learning so much more about themselves as night crept into early morning. They fell asleep exhausted, and Pinter dreamed about home for the first time in months. 

* * * 

Pinter found her clothes in the dim morning light. She was quiet and careful not to rouse Mandala. Her friend didn't have to be awake yet, and Pinter had to meet Scout Valdez to get the day's assignment. Pinter tied up her shirt and looked for her boots. She was crouching to tighten her straps when Mandala sat up with a yawn. "Leaving so soon?" 

"I'm needed," Pinter said. 

"I know," Mandala said. Her eyes were little lamps in the dark. Pinter went to her, felt Mandala's arms reaching, and they kissed. 

"Finally some fun in your life?" Mandala asked. 

Pinter laughed. "Finally." 

"If you would ever like to again," Mandala said, "just say so." 

"We'll see." 

She was halfway to the door. "Who is Kerrak?" 

Pinter froze. She turned back to Mandala. "What?" 

"Kerrak," Mandala said. "I heard you call her name in Shattrath. You called it out again last night, when my hand was inside you. Don't worry. I'm not mad or anything. I'm just curious. 'Kerrak' is an Orc name." 

Had she really done so? There was no other way Mandala could have known. Pinter's heart beat in her throat, and she swallowed. "She was someone I knew," Pinter said. "A while ago. She helped me when I was alone and scared." 

Mandala yawned again and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "I think," she said, "there is much about you that we do not know. I think it's wonderful. A bit of mystery is lovely now and then. I will meet you in the town hall, Commander." 

Mandala rose from bed and gathered up her clothes, her naked form a delicious silhouette as she hummed one of the Stormwind drinking songs Pinter taught her last night. Pinter left, closing the door gently behind her, and she stood for a moment at the top of the stairs. One thing was certain. Well, two things. First of all, she would definitely be asking Mandala to do that again sometime. Sometime. Maybe in two weeks. Or next. And second, when all of this Iron Horde madness was over, she would be returning to Frostfire Ridge. Something the succubus said to her came to mind then. The one you love. Pinter shook her head, dissipating the thought, and she left the Talbuk. 

A flurry of heavy footsteps sounded out as Pinter walked to her town hall. A rider on a Frostsabre passed through the garrison gate. Pinter stopped as he approached. It was a Night Elf. He held up his Frostsabre and turned in profile to Pinter. 

"Who are you, traveler?" Pinter asked. "State your name." 

"I am Corneas," the Night Elf said with a sweeping bow atop his mount. "Khadgar sends me with business for you and the paladin Mandala. You must go to Nagrand. It is time to raid Highmaul."



Commander Pinter Ch. 04



"Are you sure this is what Khadgar intended?" Pinter asked from the saddle of her silverback Talbuk. 

Corneas sat high on his mount and stuck out his chest, the typical reaction Pinter had seen from the Night Elf whenever she or Mandala asked him something concerning the Archmage. "I speak only what the mage tells me," Corneas said. "If there's a possibility of aid, he reaches for it. You should know him by now, Commander." 

"I don't like splitting up," Pinter said. "And I don't like strangers being short with me, regardless of who they work for." 

"My apologies," Corneas said, although Pinter wondered how sorry the Night Elf really was. He was a rogue. Pinter hated rogues. Mandala had exhibited the same distaste in the town hall as Corneas briefed them on Khadgar's mission, glancing at Pinter from the corner of her blue-lit eyes. But Khadgar himself had spoken to them via a portal, and Pinter put her trust in the Archmage. 

They were raiding Highmaul. They were to ride with Corneas into Nagrand, past the Broken Precipice, right up to the gates of the Walled City. There they would meet seven other Alliance adventurers, and they would penetrate the Ogre fortress and overthrow Imperator Mar'gok, the Sorcerer King, disrupting the Iron Horde's plans and denying Grammosh Hellscream of a powerful ally. It was a simple plan, but there was something in Corneas's eyes and in the way he acted when pressed for details. It was like he was hiding something. Pinter didn't like being in the dark. 

And she definitely didn't like being treated like a child, which is how Corneas had treated her since they split up with Mandala. A rune stone bearing the Kirin Torr insignia had suddenly glowed in Corneas's pocket. It was Khadgar, or at least his voice. Apparently the water incarnations at the Throne of the Elements had agreed to provide a stamina orb to the raiding party. Mandala needed to head north while Pinter and Corneas continued west to the Walled City. The Draenei had narrowed her eyes at Corneas, and Pinter felt her friend's rising urge to turn her talbuk around and ride straight to Zangara to see Khadgar in the flesh. But they had split up. Now Mandala was alone somewhere, and Pinter and Corneas were on the road heading west. 

"It is a beautiful day, though, Commander," Corneas said as the silence between them grew thicker than a clefthoof hide. 

"Indeed," Pinter said. And it was a terrific day. Nagrand days were always a deep sapphire blue sky over rolling hills of lush, green grass. Pinter had seen nothing so beautiful since the Redridge Mountains of Azeroth. She breathed the clean air and let the day soothe her anxiety. It was probably nothing. Corneas obviously had the social skills of a basilisk. In Pinter's experience, rogues were either charismatic braggarts who talked so fast you were in bed with them before you remembered saying hello, or they were complete and utter drolls who were experts of their trade but inept at making friends. Neither was particularly desirable, but Corneas struck Pinter as the latter. At least he would be a valuable fighter when they were inside the Walled City. 

"Have you spent much time in Nagrand?" Corneas asked. 

"A little," Pinter said. "I helped Yrel build her watch post. And I raided Ironfist Harbor not too long ago with Mandala." 

"Have you ever crossed paths with the Mok'Gol riders?" Corneas asked. 

"No," Pinter said with a raised eyebrow. "Why?" 

"Curiosity," Corneas said. "They are expert wolf riders as I understand. If the Mok'Gul come and you are less than three, you are wise to leave the road and lower your head until they are out of sight. Or so I understand." 

"I'll be sure to remember that," Pinter said. Her bow itched on her back, and she removed it, holding it loosely at her side, holding her talbuk reins in one hand. 

"Of course as a rogue I can blend with my surroundings and no one will be the wiser that I am there," Corneas said. "So I have a bit of an advantage if our luck turns sour." 

"Let's hope you don't have to," Pinter said. 

Half a mile ahead there was a thick copse of trees, the wooded border of Ogre territory in Nagrand. The river flowed peacefully on their left with a small herd of elekk grazing lazily on the banks. If Corneas's company was all Pinter had to suffer between here and the Walled City then all the better. They entered the forest and were cast immediately in shade. Golden patches of sunlight glowed through the treetops, but the air cooled considerably as they rode deeper into the dark. Pinter drew her cloak around her arms as a chill overtook her. 

A small shadow stumbled out of the trees on the side of the road. Pinter drew up her talbuk and raised her bow with an arrow aimed for the kill. "Who are you in the darkness?" Pinter demanded. "Identify yourself or taste my arrow." 

"Easy, Commander," Corneas said, holding out his hand to calm Pinter. "This one is a friend. You are a friend, aren't you, Jeezelrod?" 

Pinter lowered her bow as a Goblin came into view. The last time she saw a member of the Steamwheedle Preservation Society was when she came through here with Yrel, but she recognized the purple excavation uniform of their diggers. This little fellow was a far cry from the energetic Steamwheedle Goblins that dashed so comically about their headquarters here in Nagrand. Jeezelrod's ears drooped low, and his bald green head was dotted with a few liver spots. He grinned at Pinter and Corneas, revealing a smile replete with missing teeth. "I'm friendly enough," Jeezelrod said. "I heard you were coming and I thought I would offer you a drink. If that's okay with you, Commander Pinter." 

"How do you know me?" Pinter asked, her bow still half ready. 

"Anyone who is anyone in Nagrand knows Commander Pinter," Jeezelrod said. "If you travel my road, Commander Pinter, you are my guest." 

"That's very nice of you," Corneas said as he dismounted his talbuk, much to Pinter's irritation. He clapped Jeezelrod on the back, the little Goblin coming up to the Night Elf's waist, and they walked to a picnic basket in the brush just off the road. 

Did I say it was all right, Pinter thought, but she bit her tongue and dismounted, guiding the two mounts to the roadside. She joined the Night Elf and Goblin as Jeezelrod held out a cup full of wine. She accepted it only slightly reluctantly. 

Pinter waited for Corneas to take a drink before she indulged. The wine bit sweetly on the edges of her tongue. Pinter swallowed and took another drink. 

"Word has it you are raiding Highmaul," Jeezelrod said. 

"Who told you?" Pinter asked. 

"Word gets around in Nagrand," Jeezelrod said. "But I wouldn't worry. We keep to ourselves. Don't we, Corneas?" 

Corneas downed the rest of his wine and held out his cup for a second helping. "Tight as a drum," he said. 

"Don't overdo it," Pinter said as she sat down beside a large oak tree. "We still have a raid to complete." 

"I fight better after a little indulgence," Corneas said. 

"Just be ready," Pinter said. "Last thing I need is you wandering into a mob of Ogres before we're prepared." She had had enough of her wine and put down the cup. 

"Did Khadgar say if the other raiders had arrived?" Corneas asked Jeezelrod. 

"A few of them are there," the Goblin said. "I think the others are on their way. Probably waiting on news of our Commander and her friend, the Draenei. Everyone is pretty well split up." 

"Shouldn't make much difference," Corneas said. "This will go off without a hitch." 

"What will go off without a hitch?" Pinter asked. She looked, and she jumped to her feet. 

Corneas and Jeezelrod were gone. Only the picnic basket remained. Pinter raised her bow, drew her arrow back, and knelt. She scanned the forest in a ring, her ears straining for any sign of her missing companions or any other danger that may be approaching. Everything was silent. The birds and insects had vanished, gone into hiding after sensing something terrible. It was close. Pinter sensed it, too. Her ears pounded like drums as she listened. Her heart stopped beating a while ago. 

Faintly she heard it. 

Wolves. Barking. And deep Orc voices. The Mok'Gul! Pinter's heart beat again. It raced as she realized the trap was closing around her fast. There wasn't time to mount up and flee. Not if she wanted to make it out of this in one piece. 

Pinter dashed to the two talbuks and slapped their hindquarters, sending them galloping up the road and out of sight. The sound of wolves and Orcs grew louder, just around the bend now. Pinter leapt into the brush and slid, letting the wiry bushes blanket her and conceal her. She laid flat on her stomach, and she held her breath as at least twenty Orcs on wolf-back rode up and stopped in the road. 

"This is the place," a gruff, authoritarian voice said. "The Goblin's basket is here." 

Damn! She had forgotten the bloody picnic basket. 

The Orcs dismounted. "Sweep the forest," the leader said from atop his wolf. "She can't be far." 

"There are hoof prints leading up the road," a younger Orc voice said. "Should we follow them?" 

"She's here, you fool," the leader said. "Now search these woods before I turn you into a rug for my wife." 

Pinter slipped quietly away as the Orcs spread out and advanced on the forest. She felt out her surroundings, mapping out every bush and branch with heightened senses that wailed like sirens in her ears. Pinter was a breeze, a wisp of a thought, quiet and hidden. When she thought she was far enough away she turned on her knees and crouched, ready to dash on feather feet into the depths of the Nagrand forest. 

A wide wooden club spiked with eight sharp wolf teeth greeted her, right in her face. Pinter froze. "Hello, deary," said an Orc dressed in a wolf hide, grinning down at Pinter through the long fangs on his lower jaw. "So nice to meet you." 

The Orc pulled back his club, and in the moment before he rammed it into Pinter's face just one thought flashed in her mind. Oh, Mandala. 

And the world went dark. 

* * * 

The talbuk snorted and stomped on the sandy road. Mandala shushed quietly and scratched the animal's neck through the long, white hair. "Amir, tor," Mandala said soothingly in Draenei. "Amir." 

Though she had to admit, she shared the beast's unease. She had parted ways with Pinter and Corneas about an hour ago. She was nearly at the Throne of the Elements, but Mandala's stomach was a knot. The day was beautiful, almost too beautiful. The sky was completely cloudless as the day drifted past noon, and there was hardly any breeze for being so far north in Nagrand. Mandala had traveled this road before when the joint Alliance and Horde forces had carved a foothold. She had been to the Throne of the Elements and spoken with the elementals. If aid truly waited for the party it would be a great help. But Mandala grew increasingly agitated as she rode along the sandy road. 

The day was so calm! She wondered where Pinter and Corneas were, if they were nearly to the gates of the Walled City. She would have to purchase a rylak flight if she wanted to catch up by sunset. Their raid wouldn't begin until dusk at this rate. 

Mandala worried for her friend, and it wasn't just the lingering effects of what they shared the previous night. Memories of their lovemaking were still fresh in Mandala's mind, Pinter's creamy skin in her hands, her soft breasts pressed against her own as they writhed on each other's legs and came together one last time before they surrendered to sweet exhaustion. But Pinter was Mandala's friend, and she didn't let her feelings get away from her. Her offer to Pinter would always stand, and she rather hoped Pinter would take her up on another night of fucking, but it was all in fun. Pinter was her friend. Mandala, though, treated all of her friends like family. And if Mandala's family was in trouble, she worried. Mandala worried for Pinter. 

Why would Khadgar order such a move so late when they were already in the heart of Nagrand? It didn't make sense. Still, if this is what he desired, Mandala would execute if it meant an advantage for the raiding party. This battle would be worthy of the Exarchs no matter how it turned out. She wouldn't miss it for the world. 

Two oddly shaped trees hanged across the road in an arc. Mandala slowed her talbuk and put her handon her sword hilt. She remembered every landmark on this road, and these trees didn't belong here. Nagrand trees had sheer bark, bright brown, almost the same shade as the fiery fields of grass that flowed on endlessly. These trees had dark brown bark and with the texture of twisted vines. These trees definitely were not here when she came this way over a month ago. She stopped her talbuk. "Show yourselves," Mandala said. "Whatever you are." 

The trees wrapped up like hydra necks. Mandala jumped down from her talbuk and slapped its rear, sending it running away and out of danger. She crouched with her great sword and axe shield ready to fight as the trees transformed, metamorphosed into humanoid forms. Two towering men made of plants stood before her, their hands open with glowing light, spells in the infancy of preparation. A third man came spinning up from the grass itself and landed between the two. All three of them had hawkish faces, and their eyes were shimmering jade in the sunlight. The third man pointed at Mandala. "By the tangles of the Everbloom," he said in a deep, earthy voice, "prepare to meet your end." 

"Three against one," Mandala said with a shrug. "Fair enough." 

She threw her shield. 

* * * 

Voices in the darkness. Orc voices. 

"If these are the best Khadgar has to offer I say we strike now. What chance will the mage have against the full might of the Iron Horde?" 

"These are only a few. There will be more, and we still don't know where in Talador Khadgar is hiding. Guldan has yet to see him." 

"So we burn Talador to the ground!" 

"Calm yourself, Blackhand." 

Blackhand? Pinter opened her eyes. 

She was lying on the floor of a large cage. In a room, some kind of wooden hut. Her hazy vision cleared, and she counted four Orcs sitting in a ring around a hulk of a warrior in the middle. Grammosh Hellscream. Pinter kept quiet and held her breath. This was a veritable conference of every Iron Horde leader in Draenor. She saw Blackhand, alive and well sitting against the far wall, his shoulder bandaged where Yrel chopped him with Gurotan's axe, his eyes just as fiery as ever. There was Kilrodd, who had routed the Azeroth vanguard in Tanaan Jungle. Kargath of the Shattered Hand sat quietly brooding, his right hand replaced with a long serrated sword blade, a hook in his left hand. All along the wall stood Orcs dressed in heavy animal hides, the regalia of the Mok'Gul clan of Nagrand. So she was still in Nagrand, probably in the Mok'Gul camp. And she was still alive. That was key. 

The door to the hut stood open on the clear day, and a rush of cool breeze poured through the room. Pinter's skin chilled to goose bumps. She was nearly nude, only dressed in her panties. Thanks for my dignity, she thought. She held still as the meeting progressed. 

"You put too much faith in the Ogres," Blackhand said. "And in these Mok'Gul. We should end this incursion ourselves." 

"We have bigger problems ahead," Grammosh said. "But we have their Commander. So easily taken, and we have more agents planted in their ranks, both Alliance and Horde. We have the upper hand, and we will be ready." 

"What about Yrel?" Kargath said. "Her watch post is still a stain in this territory." 

Blackhand grumbled at the heroine's name. 

"It will be gone once we deal with these raiders," Grammosh said. "I will personally lead the charge." 

"And I can have her head," Blackhand said. 

"Yes," Grammosh said. The Orcs in the room all sniggered. "But first things first, we deal with these raiders. They will be easy prey without their Commander and her paladin friend." 

The Orcs stood with the meeting adjourned. "What should we do with her, Hellscream, sir?" the Mok'Gul chieftain from the road asked. 

"I understand your shaman, Talguk, has an anaconda that hasn't eaten in some time," Grammosh said. "Find out what the little girl knows. Then she can satisfy the beast's hunger for a few more weeks." 

"Ultur," the chieftain said. A young Orc by Pinter's reckoning stood to attention next to the cage. "Stay here and interrogate her. Then come get us. Should be a bit of fun." 

The Orcs filed out. Pinter watched the four Iron Horde leaders leave. Amazing to see them all in one room, but she went back to what Grammosh had said. 

Their Commander and her paladin friend. Mandala was in trouble, too. She had to get out of here. She had to, for Mandala. 

Only one Orc remained, the one they called Ultur. He was bright green, his head bald, but two bushy red sideburns adorned the sides of Ultur's face, along his cheeks, down to his chin. He closed the door of the hut, and he walked to the cage with heavy footsteps. Pinter feigned unconsciousness as he undid the latch and swung open the door. "Wake up, Human!" he shouted. 

Pinter pretended to jerk awake. She scrambled to the back of the cage, but Ultur grabbed her arm with his enormous hand. He hauled her out into the open. She landed hard on her stomach, but she kept her wind. Pinter swept around and found him lumbering above her. "Please," Pinter begged, putting on her best act. "I'll do anything. Don't hurt me." 

"You're going to talk," Ultur said. "You will tell me where Khadgar is. And then you will be snake food. Nothing else will happen here, girl." 

Pinter took quick, panicky breaths as she scanned the room. The only weapon was a long knife sheathed on Ultur's waist. She had to get it. "I don't know where he is," Pinter said. "He only teleports me." 

Ultur played with the handle of his knife and towered over her. "You know a snake doesn't care how pretty his prey is," he said. "Or how many fingers she has." 

"I mean it," Pinter said. "I don't know where he is in Talador. But, I see things." 

Ultur cocked his head, keeping his heavy gaze on her. If she weren't already thinking three steps ahead Pinter might have been terrified by the young Mok'Gul Orc. "What do you mean?" Ultur asked. 

"I mean there are landmarks," Pinter said, taking Ultur's hesitation as her chance. She drew back in a better sitting position, better to display her mostly naked body. She spread her legs wide. 

Ultur glanced down at Pinter's crotch. She flicked her hair, just for added affect. "Maybe if I saw them again?" Pinter said. 

Ultur snorted. "Not a chance," he said. 

"Well," Pinter said, and she trailed her fingers down her breasts, "maybe if I had a little help I could remember. You know, I'm so distraught over what happened today. Such a shock, and I wasn't ready for how violently you Orcs took me." 

Pinter locked in on Ultur's eyes. She pet herself, stroked her belly, slipped her fingers inside her panties. Pinter moaned to herself as she poked in her pussy, moistening her fingers. Her nipples went erect. She was arousing herself, but she threw herself into her act. 

Ultur said nothing. He stayed still in Pinter's eyes, hypnotized by her. The young Orc licked his lips, and he swallowed. The heavy loincloth on his hips began to bulge. "What kind of help would you need?" he asked. 

Pinter got up on her knees and moved closer to Ultur. "You know I just love how big you Orcs are," Pinter said. "I've never been so close to one." 

Pinter ran her hands on Ultur's exposed belly, his ripped abdomen. He was stout and powerful, and Pinter's blood flared as she felt his muscles. Something inside her called out for it, and although his knife was right there Pinter couldn't resist. She undid Ultur's belt, and then the Orc stood there naked from the waist down. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 04



He was sturdy and erect, a full twelve inches. Pinter looked up at him, and she ran her tongue up his green cock. Ultur groaned as she licked him over and over, rubbing the base of his shaft with one hand, sliding out of her panties and playing with herself with the other. She licked him again. Ultur grunted and pet the top of her head. Pinter put her mouth around him. And she plunged down. 

Pinter milked him. She stroked him off with her hand while she sucked him. Ultur wobbled on his feet. The more she sucked, the harder he went. He grew larger, bulging in her mouth, ready to pop with so much Orc cum. Pinter sped up, sucking harder, stroking faster. She looked up at Ultur with innocent eyes. He looked back with gritted teeth and stroked her cheek. Pinter popped him out of her mouth and reared up, guiding his cock between her breasts, pressing them together with her hands. Pinter fucked him with her tits. 

Ultur's breath picked up. He grew in that moment before coming, and Pinter pressed her breasts tighter around his throbbing cock. She kept rubbing him, feeling him well, and she ran the tip of his heavy cock up and over her chin, over her lips. She opened her mouth just as he grunted loudly. Just as he burst. 

White hot cum shot onto her face, onto her cheeks, into her eye, into her mouth. She rubbed out every last drop that Ultur had, and she put her mouth back on him. Pinter sucked him clean. She had a mouthful of Orc semen, and she swallowed. She came up for air, wiped the cum from her eye, and she looked back up at Ultur. 

The Orc opened his eyes. He touched her cheek. And he grinned. "Little thing," he said. "Now I can go longer than you know." 

Oh, shit. 

He clutched her, and then Pinter was on her stomach. She prayed he didn't stick that thing in her ass, and then she felt Ultur push his erection between her legs, into her pussy which was soaked with arousal. She was ready for the size, but Ultur fucked her in a frenzy. Her ass lifted in the air and he knelt there effortlessly, ramming himself into her, pushing up to her womb. Pinter clawed at the wooden floor as the pressure was far too much at first, as it burned like nothing else. Pinter grimaced in discomfort as he shoved her back and forth on the floor, but then it was like a switch flipped. 

Pinter moaned in pain at first, but then she closed her eyes. She wanted more. She moaned for it. She hoped for it. "Oh, shit," Pinter gasped. "Oh, yeah. Fuck me." 

"What did you say?" Ultur asked. He grabbed her blonde hair and yanked her head back. 

"Fuck me!" Pinter cried out as her scalp burned, as she felt her core erupt. Ultur felt it, too, and he sped up, taking the moment, fucking her faster and harder, his hips smacking into Pinter's ass. Pinter didn't have to push back. She cried out over and over as her heat rose, as she came to her plateau. She even laughed a little as it drew near, and then she screamed in her orgasm. 

Ultur wasn't done with her. He kept thrusting as Pinter's pussy oozed, and suddenly she was on the brink one more time. Ultur grabbed her waist and pulled her backwards, lying down on his back with her up in the air. He thrust upward wildly, steadily. Pinter moaned in mindless abandon. "Oh, shit, you're breaking me," Pinter managed. 

"I'll break you," Ultur said. 

Pinter tried to laugh again, but then she flared. She screamed, and she bucked as her insides convulsed and clenched Ultur's cock. She threw her head back, trying to ride out her come. 

Then she was on the floor. Ultur was in front of her. He grabbed her ass and hefted her up. Pinter laughed as he mounted her, and she wrapped her legs around him as he thrust into her. "Oh, son of a bitch," Pinter said nearly out of breath. "This is too much!" 

Pinter was completely into it now. She took Ultur around the neck. He moved her up and down on his own, both his hands grabbing her ass that was tiny by comparison, and Pinter smiled as she cried out to the ceiling. She bounced in his hands. His cock drove into her, wide and powerful, and she wanted it. She could do this all day. Pinter felt another orgasm about to explode, and she let go of his neck. She threw herself backwards, arms wide open like she were flying. She felt like she was in the air, lawless, boundless. Pinter filled with expectation as she realized Ultur hadn't come yet. There was more to go. 

With that, she was on her back, her legs in Ultur's hands pushed above her head. Ultur fucked her on the floor as Pinter lay there completely motionless, completely at his mercy, a prisoner to his desire and her own. Ultur nailed her, and she looked up into his face for the first time. He wasn't even close yet. He was just working, like this were nothing. Pinter exploded once more, and as she came down she found her senses for a moment. She was running out of time. The other Orcs would be back soon, and she had to get out of here. She had to find Mandala and warn the others. 

Ultur grabbed her waist and pulled her back with him. She straddled him best she could, but Ultur held her up. He clutched her in the air, and he thrust upward with rapid movements, slapping into her crotch over and over. Pinter moaned loudly, her voice shaking with his thrusts, wanting the next orgasm like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but she forced her eyes open. She scanned the floor, and she saw it. Right next to him. The knife. 

Pinter pushed back. She worked her hips just enough, and she saw the first bit of strain on his forehead, a single line that stretched across Ultur's brow. She had him. She felt anther orgasm coming on, and she pushed it away. She had to concentrate on this. She had to make him come. She had to last. Pinter's pussy was on fire for more, begging her to let go, but Pinter breathed in concentration. She strained, but she saw the same strain on Ultur. She grit her teeth. He grit his in return. Ultur held her waist tighter, and there it was. The first disrupted thrust. And another. This was it. Pinter let go finally, her core burning all the way up to her chest. Her stomach fluttered, and she called out again as another orgasm overtook her, but this time Ultur closed his eyes tight, grunted, and pushed his head back. He pulled Pinter off of him and laid her on his chest, and she felt his erection pressed against her ass. She felt him pulsate, and he burst. 

Hot cum splashed all over Pinter's ass and the small of her back. She laid on Ultur, feeling the young Orc's heart beating through his climax, through his ripped chest. Pinter lay there as they both calmed. When he was done, she kissed his chin. "That was something else," Pinter said. 

"You got me," Ultur said. "Even the best women here can't make me finish." 

"I'm not from here," Pinter said. 

"Maybe I can convince them to keep you alive," Ultur said. "I can think of a few better things for you to do than be snake food." 

Pinter laughed and stroked his bushy sideburns. "Where's my stuff?" 

"By the wolf pen." 

"Thank you," Pinter said, and she rammed the long knife straight up and through Ultur's chin. 

The Orc's eyes went wide with shock. His limbs went rigid as the blade pierced his brain. Pinter held it there, and she pulled it out. Ultur went limp. He was dead. "Fucker." 

Pinter cleaned herself up with Ultur's clothes, wiping her back, her face, her crotch. She found her panties, and she crept outside into the bright Nagrand day. 

A gulch ran through the Mok'Gul camp, between the row of huts that Pinter found herself in. The gulch was like a second road beneath the wooden bridge that ran the entire length of the camp. Pinter looked left and right. She ducked beneath the hut's porch, and she saw stable posts a little up the way, not too far. Pinter moved fast from shadow to shadow. She heard wolves growling quietly, and she saw a hefty chest beneath a tall totem. Pinter dashed to the chest, broke the lock with a stone, and pulled out her gear. She didn't see her bow anywhere, so she would have to make do. 

Pinter dressed quickly in the shadows. She was tying up her bracers, fully dressed, when she heard a snarl. She looked behind her, right into the eyes of a giant wolf. Thankfully it was on the other side of the fence. "Easy, buddy," Pinter said. "I won't hurt you, just as long as you don't hurt me." 

"But I might hurt you," an Orc voice said. 

Pinter whirled around, ramming Ultur's knife straight into the gut of a towering Orc. She pulled it out and threw him aside, and she saw a second Orc running away, running to a long wooden chime that hanged from a nearby hut. "Sound the alarm," the dying Orc said. 

"This is going to be fun," Pinter said to herself, and she raced to catch the running Orc. 

* * * 

Mandala's battle with the Everbloom druids had not been going on for hours. It only seems that way because we had to build dramatic tension. 

After she threw her shield into the middle druid, Mandala lifted her hand in the air, sparking a flash of light that turned into a radiant hammer. She threw the hammer in the ground at her feet where it sparked in every direction. Energy flowed through her legs, revitalizing her, strengthening her, and she saw the adverse effect written all over the druids' faces as the holy force she had summoned shocked them like electricity. Mandala took their stunned moment and swung her sword into the nearest druid, not penetrating his hide of vines but knocking him flat on his back. The other two druids recovered and moved their hands, conjuring spells. Mandala tossed her shield again, ricocheting it between the two, interrupting their casting. She swung her sword into one druid's head, doubling him over in a daze. She swung back again into the other's shoulder. She was about to attempt a killing strike and decapitate the first druid, but then a vine wrapped around Mandala's foot, yanking her down, tossing her twenty yards away. 

Mandala rolled to her knees and shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She cursed herself aloud in Draenei for being so clumsy and not interrupting the earth spell. Now she was back to square one with the three druids regrouping away from her hammer of light, and it still had a minute to cool down before she could cast it again. 

Mandala closed her eyes. Light erupted around her in a bubble. This was going to be a regular barroom brawl, and the shield barrier would absorb a little bit of their attacks. She spat at the ground, smiting the earth with a glowing web of cinders. "Come at me, daz ashjraka ," Mandala said, insulting the martial status of their parents. 

Fighting in close quarters made it difficult for the druids to find the time to cast more spells. Whenever Mandala heard the hum of conjuring magic she threw her shield at the source, knocking him back behind a wall of fading incandescence. All Mandala had to do was close her eyes to recreate the bubble of light that surrounded her, and for the most part the swinging vines that the druids summoned flecked harmlessly away. A few of them made it through, though, mostly tapping away like paper balls against her plate armor, but one of the vines lashed Mandala's exposed midriff. She grunted as it smarted, and she hacked the vine in half. Mandala rammed her axe shield into the druid's gut. A brown cloud of dust burst with sappy, evergreen scent, and the druid staggered away, clutching the wound. 

Mandala didn't think. Years of fighting told her when the death blow was there. She ducked a swinging vine, bunched into a crouch, and leapt at the prone druid in a three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin, her sword out and deadly. 

The long, wide blade ripped through the leaves around the druid's neck, and with another brown dust cloud his head popped a foot in the air, plopping in the grass at his feet. Mandala knocked down the now useless body with a kick square in the chest, and she turned, throwing out her hand in a defiant "stop" signal. 

One of the druids growled in frustration as his spell vanished in his hands. He lowered his head and charged Mandala, but she was ready. Mandala jumped effortlessly over the attack, flipping over once in the air, spinning around, landing perfectly behind him, and she plucked his legs from under him with a flick of her sword. The druid tumbled face-first in the grass, and she was on his back, the forward blade of her axe shield planted firmly in whatever spine the druid had. His arms and legs curled up and out as his nervous system failed, and Mandala pulled out her shield, finishing him with a hard crack of her sword hilt straight down on the top of his head. The skull gave way, and the druid went motionless and dead. Mandala jumped up and turned around. 

Empty grassland greeted her. The last druid wasn't gone. Mandala could smell him, that sappy evergreen scent. She closed her eyes to renew the bubble, but then the ground beneath her swelled with vines. Mandala tried to jump away, but it was too late. The vines wrapped around her legs, up her waist, around her arms. She dropped her sword and shield as they lifted her ten feet in the air. 

"Too slow, Draenei," the lead druid said as he held his hands out, his spell firmly in place. He twisted his hands. The vines squeezed tighter on Mandala, and she cried in pain. "Quite the fight, I'll admit," the druid said. "But the Everbloom will overtake you all." 

As Mandala hanged there suspended she felt the vines working on her armor like sentient things. They undid her clasps, untied her, pulled away her breastplate and leggings. Mandala tried to fight, but she couldn't move as her garments came off one by one. She hanged there suspended in just her boots and spaulders. 

"Settle down, young one," the druid said, working his hands. "This will be over soon." 

Mandala wondered what the druid wanted, and then the vines wrapped around her exposed purple skin. Her vision slowly went green with a haze that crept in from her periphery. They were poisoning her. They had needed more access to her body, and so the druid had undressed her. Now whatever venom he had in store could take effect. 

And it did. Suddenly Mandala's crotch ached. How could there be so many vines holding her and none of them were running up her pussy and or slithering up her ass? Her skin burned with rising, insatiate desire, and tears welled in her eyes. She needed the vines inside her. She wanted to be violated like a toy. "Please!" Mandala called out. "Oh, by the Light, fuck me!" 

The druid sneered, and Mandala understood. This was torture. He would destroy her mind with arousal, bring her to the brink of pleasure but never let her cross, and she would go mad before he finally ended her. Mandala couldn't move her hands to interrupt the effect. She was encased in this prison of vines, but just the feel of them drove her insane. She had to come. She had to get off, right now. If she didn't her brain would turn to mush, and that would be the end. The druid would probably bury her under a tree in the Everbloom or feed her to one of the mandrake hydras. But she couldn't move. Green haze danced in her vision, and her mind went blank except for her desire, her itching need to come, and she cried real tears for it like a departed love one. She couldn't even cry for her rapidly approaching end. 

Somewhere in the haze Mandala heard the growl of a wildcat. The druid called out in shock, and then the encasing vines withdrew into the earth. Mandala fell in a heap, writhing on her stomach in her newfound freedom, and she put both hands in her crotch, rubbing her clit vigorously, rocking against her hands as she saw Pinter's face. Mandala finally exploded in her orgasm, her pleasure bursting throughout her body like a popping balloon. The dirt muffled her pleasured screams as her hot fluids poured all over her fingers. She brought them to her mouth and licked them clean, loving the salty sweet taste of her insides, and when she was done she sat upright. 

Mandala threw her arms to the sky with a cleansing spell. Her vision cleared. Finally free, she was able to rid herself of the druid's poison, negating the effect. Pressure welled in Mandala's chest. She coughed a cloud of green gas, exhaling long and drawn out as every ounce of the poison escaped her system. When it was done, she collapsed on her hands, the weight of her spaulders anchoring her with no other plate on her body to offset it. Mandala was cured. She looked to see who had saved her. 

It was a Saberon, attacking the druid, ripping away chunks of green and brown, throwing them willy-nilly as the druid fought back vainly. Soon the druid went still, but the Saberon kept attacking. Mandala sat back, watching the fight, not particularly rushing to end whatever misery the druid found himself in now. It would be over soon, and it was better than he deserved. 

Finally the Saberon stopped. He crouched over his deceased prey, panting heavily, and he looked back at Mandala. 

She gasped in surprise. "Is it you?" Mandala asked. 

The Saberon licked his nose, and she knew him. It was him - Pinter's Saberon. Mandala laughed at the impossibility, but she stopped as the Saberon found his feet. "Pinter," he growled. 

Mandala picked up her plate leggings. "What are we waiting for then?" 

* * * 

She tackled him a foot short of the wood chime. Pinter crashed heavily on his back, knocking the wind out of them both, but she fought through the pain and drove the knife through the back of the Orc's skull. She looked behind her and spotted another Orc rushing to another wood chime. Pinter dug deep and drove her legs, closing the distance on the slower brute, catching up just in time and tackling him backwards by one of the leather straps on his upper body. The Orc slashed at her face with his fingernails, but Pinter had rolled away. She jumped back and plunged the knife through his sternum, and the Orc gave a loud death moan as he went limp. Pinter pulled on the knife. It was stuck. She tugged harder, but to no avail. Shit. 

Two more Orcs ran up. She would have to find a bow. First she would have to get away from these two, but she was useless without a bow. Pinter didn't much care for the idea of an entire township of Orcs hunting her down, but she was wasting time playing keep away with these assholes. She grabbed a rock and broke the latch on the wolf pen. Pinter slapped one of the wolves on the butt, and it took off straight for the two Orcs. Six more wolves followed their leader. 

That would buy her a little bit of time. Pinter ran the opposite direction as the commotion of the opened wolf pen unfolded, as the startled cries of the two Orcs turned into screams as the wolves went to work. Pinter rounded a corner and got her bearings. The path forked in two directions to the right, and it continued in a single way to the left. There wasn't long to decide, and so Pinter ran left. 

She skidded to a halt when she realized how bad an idea it was. Three Orcs on wolf back greeted her, not alerted to her escape but out on patrol. One of the Orcs pointed at Pinter and growled something she couldn't comprehend. She didn't wait to find out, turning to hightail it back the way she came. She reached the fork as the sound of wolf steps came closer and closer. Pinter ran up the right fork and took the wooden walkway that ran over the ravine. She waited as the wolves drew closer, their barks sending shivers up her spine, the Orcs shouting commands and calling out the alarm. She stopped and turned. 

They were right on top of her! Pinter crouched, and at the last moment she jumped over the side of the walkway into the ravine. 

The Orcs pulled back on their reins, one of the wolves stumbling, tripping up the other two in a comical crash that Pinter didn't stop to appreciate. She crawled out of the ravine and saw one of the Orcs on the walkway shove away his wolf and fumble with something. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 04



Crossbow! 

Pinter jumped the distance back to the walkway, looped her arm around the rail, and shoved her boot heel in the Orc's face. His nose exploded red and he cried in pain. Pinter grabbed the crossbow that he dropped, shot the Orc through his hand that covered his bloody face, and snatched a few of the arrows that were in the quiver on his wolf. The other Orcs were about to recover from their fall, and so Pinter dropped back into the ravine, sprinting hard and fast through the spider web of shadows. 

Orcs were yelling everywhere. She had to find some higher ground. She was a sitting duck down here. Pinter jumped, grabbed the ravine edge, and pulled herself up and out. 

A female Orc howled and cut down with a polearm with a massive blade on the end. Pinter rolled, and the blade struck dirt. Pinter swept her legs and knocked down the Orc, and she pumped both legs against her, shoving her into the ravine. The polearm remained. Pinter picked it up and ran, slinging the crossbow over her shoulder. 

Pinter found a tall totem next to one of the huts. She ran for it, only to find two Orcs waiting for her, jumping out of the shadows it seemed. Pinter growled as she led with the blade, ramming it through the nearest Orc's abdomen. She pushed him back onto his friend who dropped his spiked mace, letting go of the polearm as they tumbled away. She was free, and she hopped onto the totem, shimmying her way up, leaping onto the hut's clefthoof-hide rooftop. 

Orcs swarmed into the open like ants running to a stricken mantis. Pinter kicked over the totem so they couldn't follow her. That just seemed to enrage them further. 

Oh, well, she thought. Sorry for your religion, but I'd rather live. 

Pinter ran across the rooftop, coming to the edge, jumping to the next one. As she made the jump she felt the support struts give way, and as she went airborne the entire structure collapsed behind her. 

Howls of rage sounded, but Pinter kept running. Arrows zinged all around, and Pinter ducked a few projectiles, but she continued. She reached the next edge and jumped, feeling the hut give way again. She ran across three more huts, each of them collapsing as she jumped. She would definitely not become a fuck slave at this rate. She wouldn't even live long enough to be snake food. Pinter had more important things to worry about than what these Orcs would do to her if they caught her now, so she just kept running. 

Finally she reached the edge of the last hut. There was a tower, a large platform on four tall legs, and there was a rope leading up. Pinter set her feet and she jumped, catching the rope, the hut collapsing again behind her. She swung back and forth a few times, but she wrapped her arms and legs around the rope, and she climbed. The rope went taut below her, and she knew they were following. Pinter kept climbing, the platform edge just a few feet away now. She stopped as an arrow whistled just past her head, sticking loudly in the bottom of the platform, and she kept going, reaching it finally, hauling herself onto solid ground. 

"You defile us!" an Orc yelled at her. Pinter raised the crossbow and shot him through the forehead. He fell flat on his face, dead. He was a priest from the look, and this was some sort of ritual site with a fire burning on three stones in the middle. Pinter looked back down the rope. 

The Orcs were right there, snarling, reaching for the edge. Pinter punched the top Orc. He held his grip, and so she shot him in the face. He dropped into the Orc behind him, and they all crashed down in succession. Eight of them tumbled down from the rope. When they cleared, Pinter pulled up the long ladder. She was safe for now, but how the hell would she ever get down from here? 

Just then a familiar war cry sounded. A Draenei voice. A woman. 

"Mandala!" Pinter yelled over the edge. 

And it was her, rushing up the road on her Talbuk, her sword out to her side, chopping down four Orcs in a line as they stared in disbelief at this newcomer. A dozen Orcs rushed to meet her, to surround her, and Pinter's heart dropped for a second, but then someone else appeared. 

A Saberon ran behind Mandala on all fours, growling ferociously, and Pinter couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was her Saberon! She was sure of it. Who else would it be? 

Mandala and the Saberon went to work, Mandala fighting from Talbuk-back, the Saberon working the periphery so no one snuck up on the paladin. Soon the camp was filled with dozens of dead and wounded Orcs, the rest rushing away to regroup. Pinter stood and waved her hand high overhead. "Mandala!" she yelled. "Up here!" 

The Draenei saw her, meeting Pinter with her eyes of blue light. She grinned and kicked her Talbuk. The Saberon followed, guarding her rear. 

"It's too far for you, Pinter," Mandala called up. 

"There's a rope," Pinter said, and she dropped it down. 

Mandala pulled her Talbuk alongside. "You can make it," Mandala said. "Drop down." 

Pinter kissed her gloves, praying they wouldn't burn through. She grabbed the rope, lowered over the edge, and slid down. Thankfully her gloves held fast, but she missed Mandala's Talbuk. The Draenei reached down and pulled Pinter up. Pinter put her arms around Mandala's waist, the heat of her friend a welcome touch after what she had just endured. "What took you so long?" Pinter asked. 

"I got a little tied up," Mandala said. 

The Saberon bounded up and looked at Pinter with his big yellow eyes, the pupils growing to wide circles. Pinter laughed and touched his nose. The Saberon poked out his tongue, and then a host of Orc war cries rang out deep in the village. 

"Anywhere but here?" Mandala asked. 

"Do you have to ask?" Pinter answered, and they raced out of the Mok'gul camp. 

* * * 

The river was a jewel glowing gentle blue through the Nagrand plains. Pinter crouched on the bank splashing water in her face, scooping it to her mouth in her palms. She had never felt more refreshed. The water seemed to reach every part of her body, bringing her back to life, bringing her renewed strength. Pinter shook her head as she threw a fresh splash in her eyes. 

"Thankfully my Talbuk hadn't run far," Mandala said. "Otherwise I don't know if we would have found you in time." 

"You found me," Pinter said. "That's all that matters." 

"And your friend is with us again," Mandala said, glancing back at the Saberon who was hunting fish with his bare hands. They watched as he sat motionless on the riverbank, patiently staring into the still gentle water. Then he darted, and he burst the river in a spray of white foam, emerging with a wriggling black whiptail in both of his paws. The Saberon tossed the fish behind him onto a pile of three others. They wouldn't go hungry tonight. "He's quite the fighter," Mandala said. 

"He knows what he's doing," Pinter said. "If he sticks around long enough he might come in handy in Highmaul." 

"How do we even know there is a raiding party waiting for us?" Mandala said. "We've already been betrayed. Maybe it's all a lie." 

"Grammosh was there," Pinter said. "They know we're coming. I don't know if the other raiders are okay, but we have to tell Khadgar we've been sniffed out. That Goblin who met us claimed to be Steamwheedle. Have the Steamwheedle ever betrayed anyone like that?" 

Mandala shook her head. "No," she said. "They would never." 

"Their headquarters are just up the road," Pinter said with a nod. "I say we pay them a visit, see if they know who this Jeezelrod fellow is." 

"And while we're there maybe we can connect with Khadgar," Mandala said. 

"And the other raiders," Pinter said. "We have to find them. We have to finish this." 

"We will stand united, Commander," Mandala said. 

Mandala stepped closer to Pinter and put her arm around her. Pinter looped hers around Mandala's midriff. They watched the water flow as the Saberon sat motionless up the riverbank, as the sun dipped lower to the horizon and the Nagrand sky glowed orange with sunset.



Commander Pinter Ch. 05



"Whazzup!" Sallee Silverclamp exclaimed as she handed Pinter a mug of iced tea. The little Goblin overseer of Nagrand's Steamwheedle Preservation Society smiled with her wild hospitality that had always made Pinter laugh when she established connections here over a month ago. Pinter couldn't resist a little appreciative chuckle as she took the tea mug and sipped. 

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice," Pinter said. 

"We're always here to help," Sallee said. "Whatever Khadgar needs." 

"And it doesn't make me happy to hear that one of our own is acting like a real elekk turd," Gatzmolf Futzwangler said at the controls of a strange, ball-shaped machine that bounced with a gassy pocketa-pocketa behind Sallee. Pinter had no idea what the machine could be for. Best not to ask when it came to Goblins. 

Mandala stood behind Pinter with the Saberon, who crouched quietly on his haunches. "You said Jeezelrod never returned from the Broken Precipice?" Mandala asked. 

"He led a team of excavators and vanished," Sallee said. "We assumed the Ogres ate him, so we declared him dead." 

"I'll eat his face if I ever see him again," Gatzmolf said. The machine popped loudly and vibrated like a seizure victim. Gatzmolf held onto his handle for dear life, fighting to keep the machine on the ground, lifting a few inches from the floor as the ball vibrated in a small circle. Finally smoke burst from the iron seams. A few bolts shot like bullets, and everyone ducked as they ricocheted around the room. The iron sides fell away like four perfect sides of a box, and Gatzmolf landed on his butt with the handle still tight in his hands. 

"Would you cut it out already?" Sallee yelled at him. "Nobody asked for a lousy bread maker." 

"That was a...never mind," Pinter said as she dusted herself off. "We need to talk to Khadgar fast." 

"Indeed," Gatzmolf said, standing up like nothing happened. "He came through here shortly before Thrall finally finished off Garrosh. Thankfully he left us with the means to contact him if anything hairy ever came up." 

Gatzmolf opened a tall cupboard and disappeared as he rummaged inside. A few odds and ends flew out as he scoured - a fly swatter, a turkey baster, a soccer ball. "Aha!" Gatzmolf exclaimed, emerging triumphant with a wide, metal ring in his hands. "The portal." 

Gatzmolf set the ring on the floor. He fiddled with a few controls on the side, and suddenly a flash of light erupted. Gatzmolf jumped back, and everyone stared through the portal that had opened on Zangara. 

It was a clean passageway with Khadgar's study clearly visible through the nether. As they watched, the white-haired mage dashed up, peered through, and sighed in relief. "Thank goodness," Khadgar said. "Pinter and Mandala. It's so good to see you." 

"You have some explaining to do," Mandala said, stepping in front of Pinter. 

Pinter gently put her arm across her Draenei friend and held her back. "We were betrayed, Khadgar," Pinter said. "The whole thing was a trap." 

Khadgar held up his hands in apology. "I know," he said. "I was in complete contact with you until you reached Nagrand. Then I went blind as if someone commandeered the signal." 

"So it wasn't you who told me to go to the Throne of the Elements?" Mandala asked. 

"Absolutely not," Khadgar said. "You had your mission, which I am sure you would have executed brilliantly. There was nothing else to give you." 

"This is fishy," Sallee said. "Really fishy." 

"It must have been the Sorcerer King," Mandala said. "He is more powerful than we thought." 

"I should have known about Corneas," Khadgar said. "Somehow I couldn't see through him. I trusted him, just as you did. I hope no harm came to you." 

"We made it out in one piece," Pinter said. "But what about the other raiders?" 

"I have them," Khadgar said. "The moment I lost sight of you two I found them all. They are safe inside a shield at the entrance of the Walled City. I will send you when you are ready." 

"You're still going through with this?" Gatzmolf asked. "Pardon me for saying, but that makes about as much sense as Orcish arithmetic." 

"Why not?" Mandala asked. "They think we're dead. Catch them with their guard down." 

"And we'll never have a better chance," Pinter said. "If the Sorcerer King is this powerful he'll see anyone else coming from as far as Azeroth. We need to strike now." 

"I will make the portal," Khadgar said with a crack of his knuckles. "It will land you two smack in the middle of the other raiders." 

"The three of us," Pinter said as she scratched the top of her Saberon's head. He tilted his neck back to expose his chin, and Pinter gave his jowls a good rub. "This fellow has saved me more than once, and we're down a man after Corneas." 

"Good thinking," Khadgar said. "I'll increase my spell. You will remain invisible as long as none of you attack. Once you begin your assault, the shield will break, and you will be seen." 

Green light shined in a strand between Khadgar's hands. He worked from his study, from all the way in Zangara as he created the new portal that opened behind Mandala in a blue ring. He grunted in effort, and lines appeared around the mage's eyes as he kept the new doorway open. "Go now, Pinter," Khadgar said. "I don't know how long I can hold this." 

Pinter and Mandala waved goodbye to Khadgar and walked to the portal. "Time is money, friend!" Sallee said with a jovial wave of her hand and her typical send-off. 

Mandala stepped through the portal. Pinter stopped just short. The Saberon paused reluctantly behind her. "It's okay, fella," Pinter said with a smile. "We'll conquer this together." 

The Saberon licked his nose and flicked his head back and forth. Then he bounded through the portal and vanished. Pinter stepped through, and the world blinked white all around as she transported out of the Steamwheedle headquarters. 

* * * 

Pinter landed lightly on grass. The white light that overtook her vision slowly faded, and she found herself in the middle of four tall Ogre structures. A shining dome rose high overhead, a translucent window on the outside world. Mandala was next to her, and the Saberon. Seven other forms took shape in a cloud of sparkles as she fully arrived outside the gates of the Walled City. 

"Welcome to Highmaul, Commander Pinter," a male Draenei voice said. 

Pinter finally took stock of her surroundings. Seven Alliance adventurers were ready and waiting. The male voice belonged to a Draenei priest who wore yellow robes and a long staff on his back made of warped wood. It was such an eclectic bunch. A Dwarf hunter going lone wolf just like Pinter. A Human warrior with a long polearm that looked like it came from the heart of Pandaria. A Gnome warlock with a towering, six-armed female demon at his side. A Night Elf mage with a staff that burned white hot. And two Worgen druids, male and female respectively from Pinter's eye. The Worgen stood together in their wolf form, the male with bright red fur, the female a beautiful silver. They held hands, the two druids, and Pinter guessed they were a little more than friends. Pinter nodded at each of her companions as they greeted her. 

"We feared the worst when Khadgar lost contact," the Dwarf hunter said. 

"I'm a bit harder to kill than that," Pinter said. 

Her companions laughed. The Draenei priest eyed the Saberon who crouched between Pinter and Mandala. "Who is this?" he asked. "Your pet?" 

"This is a friend," Pinter said. "He's here to help, since we're down a man." 

"Does he attack on your command?" the priest asked, eliciting a few chuckles from the others. 

"He will pull his weight," Mandala said. "He is half the reason Pinter and I are still alive." 

The Draenei priest shrugged. "If he can pull his weight I have no problem," he said. "I just wonder if this is the best our Commander could do." 

"We are strong enough," Pinter said. "I suggest we get into the city before Khadgar's spell wears off. I'd rather not die on the doorstep of our objective." 

The group made their way to the open stone gate where two fat Ogres stood guard with heavy hammers. The group walked silently between them, and Pinter even jumped a little as one of the guards coughed loudly, cleared his throat, and hocked up a generous piece of snot. But they passed through after a moment, and Pinter looked back just to be sure. Three other Ogres walked through the gate going the opposite direction. The guards never turned around. They were inside. 

"Now!" Pinter shouted. 

Mandala roared, threw her shield, and ran straight into four Ogres who mingled in the stone street. The Human warrior raced alongside her leaving a trail of fire, and two of the Ogres had already been cut down before Pinter and the others had time to attack. Khadgar's bubble vanished, and they were there. 

Soon all four Ogres were dead. Three more came out of a stone hut, one of them a mage, but the Night Elf spotted him and froze the Ogre's jaw before he could cast his first spell. Pinter and the Dwarf hunter fired two incendiary traps that exploded, knocking down the other two Ogres. From there it was just a matter of Mandala and the warrior ending them. 

Pinter never understood why a Worgen would ever want to change form. Shouldn't a werewolf be vicious enough? Still, the red-haired Worgen took the form of a red panther and surged forward with Mandala and the warrior whenever they engaged a new foe. Pinter called out once to make sure he didn't draw too much attention, but she cut the Worgen some slack. He seemed young, maybe about her own age. She was just like him not too long ago, and she smiled with pride as the young Worgen joined the Saberon in tearing apart a giant cyclopean Ogre. 

The silver Worgen had taken on the form of vines, her voluptuous humanoid figure still visible in the animated flora. She cast a few waves of green spores over the raiders, but she and the Draenei priest barely lifted a finger as the party fought their way to an amphitheater on the north side of the city. They were patient. They were deadly, but they were patient. That was the important part. Everyone understood their roles. Soon the streets were littered with dead Ogres, and distant alarm horns signaled that their early welcome would soon take a deadlier turn. 

"Form up here!" Pinter shouted atop a stone wall that dropped into a drainage ditch. The amphitheater was just ahead. A single Ogre holding a long stone axe stood in the open, scanning the entrances, waiting for them. 

The adventurers gathered around Pinter. Mandala stood on her right. The Draenei priest on her left. 

"No more surprise," Mandala said. "He'll see us coming." 

"There's no way to sneak up," Pinter said. She turned to the priest. "You'll have to bless us." 

"Can't you just bubble yourself?" the priest asked Mandala. 

"Are you kidding?" Mandala said. "He'll smash it in a heartbeat." 

"Bless us," Pinter said. "And stand back with the Worgen. We'll attack him on both sides. That should occupy him enough. He's big and slow. We'll cut him down eventually." 

"Cast your time warp on my command," the priest said, looking back to the Night Elf mage. 

"Sure, or I'll do it when Pinter tells me to," the mage said. 

The priest grumbled something to himself in Draenei that Pinter didn't understand, but Mandala obviously did. Anger flared inside the paladin, but Pinter put her hand on Mandala's arm. "Cast it early," Pinter said to the mage. "If we can't kill this guy in a few minutes we're dead anyway." 

Pinter let her hand linger on Mandala's purple skin, a reassuring touch but she gave her friend a gentle caress. The priest glanced down and saw, harrumphing quietly. Pinter didn't care. "Are we ready?" Pinter asked. 

Everyone called out affirmative. "Go!" 

Mandala's bladed shield flew forward as she and the warrior raced out of the ditch. The huge Ogre caught it just in time, flicking it away with the hilt of his axe. "Come for the Butcher?" he bellowed, charging to meet Mandala and the warrior. "Come, so I can grind you into clefthoof feed!" 

Pinter and the Dwarf fired ice balls that landed at the Butcher's feet, encasing them in ice blocks, freezing him in place. Mandala and the warrior began their assault, and the rest of them split into two groups, one behind Pinter, one behind the Dwarf. The Gnome warlock stood behind Pinter. His demoness charged to fight the huge Ogre, and the mage split off to join the Dwarf, standing behind them, launching fireball after fireball into the behemoth's fleshy side. Pinter watched to be sure the priest was where she wanted him, and he was, next to the Worgen druid who stood in vine form laying down mushrooms that emitted rejuvenating green spores. 

Pinter loosed a barrage of arrows from the crossbow she had taken from the Mok'Gul camp, not her prime choice of bow but effective enough. Hopefully someone in this place would have a better choice of weaponry for her. The fight was going smooth and coordinated. The Butcher's legs were pockmarked with cuts and slashes, and Pinter watched the red Worgen druid slash a nice gash down the Butcher's thigh. 

The Butcher growled enraged and rammed his axe butt square into the Worgen's flank. The panther bent at an odd angle and cried in pain. Pinter nearly called out, but then a wave of spores washed over the stricken druid. He straightened out, regained his footing, and rejoined the assault. Beautiful, Pinter thought. Beautiful. 

Mandala threw down her hammer of light, which sent electric shocks into herself and everyone near her. Pinter felt it course up from the ground, through her legs, into her core. She had the strength to throw this oaf into the fires of Bloodmaul, and whatever weariness was on her companions vanished before her eyes, their attacks sped up and doubled. They nearly had this guy. He was already slowing. Just a few more hits and he'd be on his knees, then Mandala would take his head. 

Mandala closed her eyes, renewing the light shield that surrounded her. The Butcher raised his axe and swung downward, striking the shield dead on, bursting it in a cloud of sparks. Mandala fell to one knee under the force of the blow, which stunned her for a moment. "Shit!" the warrior shouted as the Butcher raised his axe over the prone Draenei. 

Pinter was too far away to do anything. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of her friend about to be crushed. "Help her!" Pinter screamed at the priest. 

"Why don't you just bubble?" the priest asked calmly. 

Pinter could have shot him in the face, but she was too focused on the axe that descended now in slow motion, the world gone bloated and surreal in this instant that hanged in the balance. They couldn't afford to lose a tank. Pinter couldn't afford to lose her friend. She barely heard herself screaming, "No!" She broke her attack and ran, hopelessly, desperately. 

The warrior dropped his polearm and dove for Mandala, knocking her out of the way, crashing to a halt just short of where he intended. He looked up. 

A cloud of dust erupted. Everyone went silent and still, and when the dust settled all they could see was the Butcher's enormous axed buried halfway in the earth. The Ogre giant pulled out his weapon. The blade was dark red with gore. 

"Resurrect him, paladin," the priest said. 

Mandala was just coming back to her senses. She had lost all of her aggression, and now the Butcher was charging for the priest and the Worgen druid. Mandala picked up her shield and flung it weakly, cursing in Draenei as it skidded harmlessly in the dirt just behind the Butcher's ankles. The mage tossed flame after flame onto the Ogre. Pinter and the Dwarf let loose a steady rain of arrows, and the Gnome's demoness leapt in the air with a whirl of her swords. 

Nothing stopped the Butcher. He found his target. He swung his axe like a pendulum in the air behind him, and he swung it forward with the force of a battering ram. 

The priest jumped aside. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted, maybe at the Worgen druid at his side, but Pinter knew he meant for Mandala to restart her attack. Either way, the Worgen druid froze the way you do when staring down a speeding horse after stepping into a Stormwind street without looking both ways. She froze like a fencepost, and she watched the axe all the way. Pinter aimed a shot at the Butcher's hand, trying to disarm him, but she was just a moment too late. The axe swung forward. The Worgen flashed into her human form, a pretty young woman with deep silver hair. And then she was gone. 

The red Worgen panther howled in a fury and jumped on the Butcher's back, but he tossed the cat aside. Mandala raced up, finally back to her fighting self, and she threw her shield. The Butcher found her and attacked. 

The Dwarf hit him in the head with a shot that struck hard and bounced away. The Butcher just flicked his axe out to the side, catching the Dwarf before he could disengage. He fell in two clean, vertical pieces. 

Pinter couldn't believe what was happening. They had this guy! But in just a few seconds, thanks to one person's stupidity, they were dropping like flies now. They could still kill the Butcher with a little focus. Kill him and worry about picking up the pieces once the dust had settled. But none of this should have happened. She could have strangled the priest if he wasn't running to the opposite side of the amphitheater. 

Mandala still fought like a dervish, doubling her efforts, not letting the Butcher's attention go too far away. He raised his axe to attack, and she hacked him square in the belly, doubling him over as much as an Ogre his size was able to. A gushing wound stood out on his gut, and he fumbled quickly at what fell out. "Snakey things go inside!" the Butcher yelled. 

"Stay on him!" Pinter yelled. The mage and the warlock rained flames and shadows down on the Ogre's head. He was almost done now. Next to Pinter lay the Worgen panther, scrambling back to his paws, rushing to the body of his dead friend. "Get back here!" she shouted, but he wasn't listening. 

Pinter looked back at the Butcher. The mage spread his hands. Red flame swirled at his feet, and then a massive flaming rock fell from the heavens, exploding around the Butcher and leaving him burning and scorched. He howled, and then Mandala was there. She rammed the butt of her axe shield straight through the Butcher's chest, tapping him like a keg of mead that flowed dark red as the contents of his heart poured free. The Butcher fell to his knees. Mandala clove his head in half with one clean strike of her large blade. 

Quiet fell over the amphitheater. Quiet, except for the cries of the Worgen druid who crouched in his human form over the broken body of his friend. "Anna," he cried as he lifted her in his arms, cradling her head. "Anna!" 

Pinter's heart ripped in half at the sight. She walked to him, keeping her distance, venturing out her hand to touch his shoulder as he sobbed. "I'm sorry," Pinter said. 

"Where the hell did Khadgar find your worthless ass?" 

Pinter looked back as Mandala stomped steadily to the priest who stood along the opposite wall. The other living raiders swarmed to join her, the Saberon close to Mandala's side, snarling viciously. 

"It's not my fault," the priest said. "This paladin didn't bubble fast enough." 

"Ril melamagas ashjraka!" Mandala howled, lunging for the priest's throat. The mage and the Gnome warlock both grabbed her, holding her back, the Gnome having a bit more trouble with his grip on Mandala's thigh. 

Pinter stood quick and turned. "Break it up!" she yelled. "We can save at least one of them." She took two steps. And then she was airborne. 

The earth split asunder beneath her feet, rushing in a fluid ripple that sent her back into the Worgen druid. The poor devil lost his grip on Anna, his dead friend, and rolled with Pinter as the ground seemed to angle them away from the others. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 05



"Enough!" a voice thundered through the sky. "You will go no further, you Azeroth insects!" 

Pinter had never heard the voice before. It was probably the Sorcerer King. She didn't have time to think, though, as she and the Worgen druid finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill that had burst into existence, splitting down the middle of the amphitheater. She climbed to the top and caught a glimpse of Mandala and the others finding their feet. 

And then she flew backwards again as something powerful hit her gut, knocking the wind out of her. 

* * * 

"Pinter!" 

Mandala ran to the top of the hill that split the amphitheater in two. This had all happened so fast, the disastrous results of their battle with the Butcher, the moment of grief and rage over fallen comrades and one person's stupidity, and the earthquake. The dust had settled, and Pinter stood at the hill's summit. Mandala saw Pinter, and then she was gone. 

A white wall blocked the other half of the amphitheater now. There was nothing. Mandala reached the top of the hill and touched the wall with her hands, her palms going cold with the sensation of slick stone. She ran her hands back and forth, finding nothing useful, and she pounded on it with her fist in frustration. 

"That won't do any good," the Draenei priest said. "There's no way through." 

Mandala gave the wall one last punch, her red plate glove absorbing much of the impact, and she rested her forehead against the odd surface. If Pinter was still there, they couldn't get to her. Not easily, at least. 

Mandala turned and slowly descended the hill. 

"We'll have to move on without her," the Gnome said. 

"How?" the Night Elf asked. "That was our only route." 

"Make a portal and get us across," the priest said. 

"It doesn't work that way," the Night Elf said with growing agitation. 

"I've seen it done before," the priest said. 

"Then you were dreaming," the Night Elf said. "I have to know every inch of what's on the other side. Otherwise I'm blindly throwing us into the nether. Who knows where we'll land?" 

"What a group!" the priest exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air. "Three useless dead, a paladin who doesn't know how to bubble, and a mage who doesn't know what a portal is." 

"You have no idea what you are talking about," the Night Elf said. 

"I know a group of idiots when I see one," the priest said. "The Naru themselves only know where Khadgar found the lot of you. Some load of good our wonderful commander did, too. At least she's gone now, and I suggest..." 

A red plated hand landed on the priest's shoulder. He turned. 

Mandala punched him straight across the mouth. 

* * * 

Pinter writhed, clutching her stomach. She winced through the pain and had to will the breath back into her. She hadn't slipped. Something had struck her. Something that wanted her on this side, away from the others. Pinter found her knees and sat on her haunches. A white wall stretched across the top of the hill. She didn't have to look. There was no way through. She and the Worgen druid were trapped on this side. 

The red-haired kid was curled up in his human form, crying his eyes out. The body of his friend was on the other side of the hill. Everyone else, living or dead, was on the other side of the hill. It was just Pinter and the druid. She stood, wincing again as her stomach pinched. She picked up her crossbow, and she walked to him. 

"We have to go," Pinter said. She knelt beside him as he cried and put her hand on his shoulder. "Get up. Now." 

She pulled on the druid. He rolled over mostly on his own. There was so much hurt in his eyes. Pinter's heart broke again, but she maintained her demeanor. "Get up," she said. 

"Anna," the druid cried. 

"I'm sorry," Pinter said. "Really I am, but there's nothing we can do. We're exposed out here." 

A signal horn sounded, piercing like a hunter's call. Pinter looked sharply in that direction as the raspy shouts of Ogres drew near. "We have to go," she said. 

"But Anna..." 

"Now!" Pinter shouted, grabbing the druid, pulling him to his feet. She looped her arm over his shoulder and hauled him across the open amphitheater. The druid moved his feet, but she dragged him most of the way to a shadowy tunnel. 

A team of Ogres stormed through the amphitheater just as they dropped inside. They ran wild and bloodthirsty with stone hammers and spiked clubs that were taller than Pinter. She held the druid down flat in the tunnel and covered his mouth. Thankfully he understood and went silent. Pinter's heart beat loudly in her ears, and she thought she heard the druid's beating just a little faster. She let him go when the noises outside the tunnel finally faded. 

"How did this happen?" the druid asked. "Khadgar chose us." 

"One person's mistake can cost us all," Pinter said, listening hard for any more signs of danger. "But we're going to have to move. Can you go protection for me?" 

"Can I what?" 

"This place will be crawling with Ogres," Pinter said. "Between us and whatever other monstrosities the Sorcerer King has in place. I can tackle most of them, but if there are too many I will be overwhelmed. I need you to distract them." 

"You mean become a bear?" the druid asked. 

"Yes," Pinter said. "Whatever it is you druids do. Become a bear and fight with me." 

"I can't." 

"Of course you can," Pinter said. 

"I can't do it," the druid said. 

"What do you mean?" Pinter asked, sitting up, rising above him. "Take an animal form, or become a werewolf or something. You're a damned Worgen, for fuck sake." 

The druid shrank beneath her, and Pinter cursed herself for being so harsh with him. He was scared. He was used up. This could be his first fight, much like Pinter's first fight in the Bloodmaul Slag Mines. That one hadn't gone so well, either, and it was only by the grace of a chance encounter that she survived. This druid could still do great things. He just needed some time. But time was something that was quickly running out. 

Pinter sat with her legs crossed. They breathed for a while in the tunnel. A little bit of light shone onto the floor, and he was there. A handsome young man, maybe Pinter's age, probably a little younger. He had a close-shaved beard as red as the hair on his head, and his blue eyes stared at the dirt, deep in thought. "What's your name?" Pinter asked. 

"Jarvus," he said. 

"That other one," Pinter said. "The silver one. Anna. Was she your friend?" 

"My sister," Jarvus said. "My twin sister." 

Pinter stroked Jarvus's back through her gloved hand. "Had you fought together long?" 

"Since Gilneas," the druid said. "We were in Alterac Valley when the call came for the Vanguard. We joined. We listened to stories about you and Mandala battling the Iron Horde for a month. This was the first time Khadgar asked for our help. We jumped on it." 

"Then he saw something in you two," Pinter said. "You were meant to be here." 

Jarvus swallowed. He shifted into his elbows, and he sat up, joining Pinter. "I couldn't even save her," Jarvus said. 

"But she saved you," Pinter said. "I saw it. She carried us all. You are here, and that's all that matters." 

"I don't know if I can transform again," Jarvus said, genuinely sorry. "I want to. For some reason I just can't remember how." 

Pinter touched Jarvus's face, brushed his beard with her fingertip. "You can do it," she said. "I know you will." 

Jarvus looked in her eyes, and Pinter froze. She absently opened her hand, fully touching his face with her palm. Her fingers slipped behind his ear, and blood rushed through her head with a loud whine. Jarvus's pupils dilated for just a second, and she pulled him in, planting her lips softly but firmly on his. 

Jarvus's hands rose startled, but then he placed them on Pinter's shoulders, holding her as they kissed. Pinter didn't think. Rational thought had nothing to do with this. Something inside her told her to, and she acted. She held the back of Jarvus's head and kissed him over and over, opening her mouth, gasping as their tongues roped against each other tender and slick. Pinter breathed heavily, gripping Jarvus tight now, and she pulled against his spaulders, opened his shirt over his athletic chest, held his bare upper body against her as Jarvus did the same to her, and then his hands clutched her breasts. His face was in Pinter's cleavage, and his lips locked around her nipple. 

Pinter hissed with pleasure and held his head against her. Her crotch was on fire. She had to get out of her pants. Pinter pushed Jarvus onto his butt, and she fought with her clasps. She opened her leggings and yanked them away. Jarvus touched her, and Pinter moaned. His fingers rubbed her labia, poked inside her, and rubbed away the hood of her clit. Pinter let him rub her for a few seconds, letting her heat rise, letting herself roil aroused, and she wanted him. 

Pinter crouched, and Jarvus's pants were gone in an instant. She saw his erection in the darkness. He wasn't huge. He wasn't disappointing, probably a good eight inches, but Pinter was so used to being fucked by Orcs that she had forgotten what to expect from Human men. She didn't care. She needed him, and she crouched over him. Pinter held his cock in her right hand, guided it to her pussy, and lowered. 

Pinter wrapped her legs around Jarvus, locking them tight behind him. Jarvus sat upright, and they fucked. Jarvus pushed up and into her as she bounced, as her breasts pressed against his chest, and she kissed him. Pinter held herself firmly in Jarvus's grasp, and she worked herself closer. He wasn't huge, but his cock was just the right length to hit her spot. She worked it, rotating her hips, leaning back with just enough space between them that she angled just right with his hand supporting her lower back. Jarvus sensed it, and he adjusted his thrusts. He was spot on. Pinter hooked her arms around the back of Jarvus's neck, and already she felt the wave of an orgasm building deep inside. Her skin burned to the touch, and Pinter sped up. 

Jarvus fucked her in return. Pinter closed her mouth tight to muffle her cries, careful not to give away their position in the tunnel, but a few of her moans reverberated. Jarvus covered her mouth. They locked eyes, and Pinter finally saw it. 

Jarvus's pupils went vertical. His eyes turned yellow. She didn't stop fucking him as his beard spread across his face, down his neck, onto his chest, and then his nose elongated with his mouth, which filled with a row of sharp teeth. The hand over Pinter's mouth turned into a paw with four heavy claws, and his upper body expanded in width by half a foot. His pectorals bulged out, his muscles going powerful and ripped all up and down his body. Pinter watched the transformation and kept bouncing, and she sped up as the same transformation happened inside her. Jarvus's cock grew twice as fat and five inches longer. 

The feeling was heaven, that painless tearing sensation, almost an itch at your body's extreme limit of arousal that makes you want to come just to ease the pressure. A joyful hurt. Pinter's vision blurred with tears as Jarvus's cock filled her up, as he gripped her with his free arm, lifted her as he rose up straight up from the floor, onto his knees, and pounded her vigorously. He was truly a beast. A wolf once again. He snorted through his clenched teeth, and finally Pinter moaned loudly through his paw as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Her spine and hips bucked as her belly convulsed, as her canal gripped his cock in spastic twitches. Jarvus furrowed his wolf brow and growled, and just when she thought he would come inside her he pulled out. 

Pinter's juices flowed freely between her legs as his first blast of hot cum sprayed her belly. Jarvus slid her from his grip and crouched, and she put her mouth on his cock after taking a shot that splattered her face. Pinter sucked the rest of what Jarvus ejaculated, and she swallowed, coming back up on her knees as he lowered himself. She hugged him close and he nuzzled her. They caught their breath. "Thank you," Jarvus said, his voice the fearsome snarl that she had expected from a true Worgen. 

"Thank you," Pinter said with proper emphasis. 

They cleaned up, and a few minutes later Pinter tightened her gloves and settled her spaulders on her shoulders. She checked her crossbow, counted the ten arrows she had remaining, and nodded at Jarvus. "Be a bear for me," she said. 

Jarvus, crouching in front of her in the form of a red-haired grizzly bear, snarled in a menacing show of ferocity. Pinter grinned wickedly and nodded. 

They rushed out the other end of the tunnel, away from the amphitheater, and emerged in a stadium filled with screaming Orcs and howling Ogres in the stands. Pinter and Jarvus stopped, looking around in confusion. 

"What the devil is this?" Jarvus growled. 

"I don't know," Pinter said as a gate opened on the other side of the arena. Out ran two Ogre mages and a Saberon shaman. "Just start killing." 

Jarvus rose high on his hind legs and roared, stopping their adversaries in their tracks just long enough for Pinter to fire two well-aimed headshots at the mages. They fell heavy, and dead. The Saberon shaman shook off his fear in time to raise four totems that formed some sort of barrier, making Jarvus bounce harmlessly away as he dove. Jarvus renewed his attack, clawing and slashing, leaving deep marks on whatever wall the shaman had created as the Saberon cast quickly and viciously, sending fire down on Jarvus that may or may not have hurt him. Pinter couldn't tell. She lined up more shots at the totems in the ground, dodging fireballs that fell from the sky and blocking out the wild cheers of the crowd. She rolled clear of a fireball, found her knees, and shot at the totem closest to Jarvus. 

The wooden post exploded in splinters, and he was through. The Saberon tried to raise a new barrier, but Jarvus was on him. It was over fast. Pinter ended it with a headshot before the Saberon suffered too much. 

The crowd booed loudly as Pinter joined Jarvus, retrieving her spent arrows. "I told you you could do it," she said. Jarvus roared triumphantly. 

"What is this?" a familiar voice said. Pinter had heard it yesterday in the Mok'Gul camp. She turned and looked up at the crowd, and there he was. 

"You owe me a fight, Commander of the Vanguard," Kargath said, pointing down at Pinter with his bladefist. The gray-skinned Orc's long black hair flowed in a gust of wind that swept over the Walled City. "You owe me a death, and I will take an extra one as interest on your debt." 

Jarvus rose up beside Pinter. Pinter raised her crossbow. "Feel like making history?" Pinter asked. 

Jarvus roared. 

The crowd cheered as Kargath leapt from the stands into the arena, silhouetted against the late day sun, his bladefist high overhead.



Commander Pinter Ch. 06



"Give me some room," Mandala said as she crouched over the broken corpse of Anna, the dead Worgen druid. The Saberon stood at her side obediently, watching her, comforting her as she examined. 

"Can't cast a simple resurrection spell?" Balthus asked with a cloth pressed to his bloody nose. Balthus was the Draenei priest who didn't quite see eye to eye with Mandala. Mandala's red plate glove still had the bloody stain where she punched him a minute ago. 

"I can cast just fine," Mandala said. "I just can't stand hearing you breathe through your broken nose." 

"Now look," Balthus said, but Voren, the Night Elf mage, grabbed his arm. 

"Easy," Voren said with just the right amount of scorn to pass as diplomatic. "Let's save this one and be done with it." 

Mandala rolled Anna onto her back, wincing at the feel of shattered and crushed bones inside her Human form. Anna had taken a direct hit from the flat side of the Butcher's stone axe. She probably died instantly. Thankfully her body wasn't too terribly destroyed, meaning Mandala could resurrect her. Still, the Draenei paladin swallowed a few tears that welled inside her. Anna was a pretty girl, her silver hair turning her into a majestic Worgen when transformed, and she had proven herself a spectacular healer in the thick of battle. If Mandala could have chosen a casualty it would have been Balthus, but life wasn't always so generous. She held Anna's jaw and leaned close. 

"Can you save her?" Fitzzlenoob asked. The Gnome warlock had dismissed his demoness for the time being, focused only on the emergency at hand. 

Mandala opened Anna's lips, gingerly so as not to destroy her fractured jawline any further. She breathed onto Anna's teeth. 

"Is that it?" Fitzzlenoob asked. 

"Let her work," Voren said. 

"Should be done by now," Balthus grumbled. 

Mandala held her hand up to the sky. Her open palm glowed as she plucked a beam of light from the air, and she returned her hand to Anna's cheek. The light spread through Anna's face, down her neck, throughout her body. An organic noise crunched inside the girl. 

"What's that?" Fitzzlenoob asked. 

"Her bones are repairing," Voren said. 

"You've seen this before?" Fitzzlenoob asked. 

"I have," Voren said. He cast a sideways glance at Balthus. "It's not so easy as you think. I don't envy a paladin who has to cast this spell." 

"Wasting it on dead weight," Balthus said. "We should rez the warrior or the hunter." 

"Our hunter friend is in two pieces," Voren said, "and if you can find enough bits of the warrior in the dirt over there be my guest. Anna is intact and we'll need a healer if we ever want to get out of this damned city alive." 

The light encased Anna, spreading up Mandala's arm, around her body, as well. The Saberon stepped back in wonder as Mandala became a golden goddess for a moment, holding her hands up to the sky. "By the Naruu," Mandala said, "we will see you again." 

The light blinked away. Mandala sat over Anna. It was quiet for a moment, and the others thought that maybe it hadn't worked. 

Anna coughed. 

Voren and Fitzzlenoob laughed. 

"Careful," Mandala said, cradling Anna as she coughed for breath. "You're back, but not yet entirely. Go easy." 

Anna looked around wide-eyed. "I was gone," she said with another cough. 

"You are back," Mandala said. "You live." 

Anna looked up at Mandala, and she calmed. She smiled. "Thank you." 

"We should have left her," Balthus said. "We could be miles away by now if we contacted Khadgar." 

"We can't just leave her when there's a chance," Voren said. 

"And there isn't even a chance that she'll slow us down," Balthus said. "That's definite. She will slow us down and these Ogres will catch us." 

"If you had been doing your job we would be halfway to the Sorcerer King's throne room by now," Mandala said. 

"I was healing," Balthus said. "You were slow." 

"No," Voren said. "It was you." 

"I thought paladins were supposed to be able to heal themselves," Balthus said. 

"I can, but just enough to make your job easier," Mandala said. "I need help." 

"What did you see?" Balthus asked Fitzzlenoob. 

The Gnome held up his hands in innocence. "I didn't see anything," Fitzzlenoob said. "I was in the fight and then we started dying. That's all I saw." 

"I felt a lot of mana coming from Anna," Mandala said. "I felt hardly anything from you." 

"Arguing over this will get us nowhere," Voren said. 

"Thank you," Balthus said. 

"But I saw the whole thing and it was all your fault," Voren said. 

"You don't understand what healing like!" Balthus yelled and then grimaced in pain through the cloth in his hand. 

"Where is Jarvus?" Anna asked. 

Everyone went silent and looked at her. 

"My brother," Anna said. "Where is he? And Commander Pinter?" 

Mandala pointed at the white wall that split the amphitheater in two. "On the other side," she said. "We can't get through." 

"There has to be a way," Anna said. 

"There is no way," Voren said. "We've looked." 

"Some other way," Anna said. "You can't portal us..." 

Balthus huffed. 

"But there's always a way," Anna finished. "We're just not seeing it." 

Mandala looked around their side of the amphitheater. She was at a loss, but she had to humor the girl. "Maybe," she said, "if we..." 

The Saberon sat bolt upright and sniffed. His ears perked straight. And he stared at the far wall of the amphitheater where they had entered. 

"What's with him?" Balthus asked. 

"He smells something," Mandala said. She inched closer to the Saberon. "What is it? What do you smell?" 

"He's not like us," Balthus said. "He doesn't even understand..." 

"Pinter," the Saberon growled. He bounded away and leapt acrobatically to the top of the wall. He looked back and motioned for the others to join him. 

"I guess there's another way," Mandala said. They stood to follow the Saberon. Mandala helped Anna to her feet. She held the injured girl with an arm around her shoulders. "Can you make it?" 

Anna nodded. 

"Then let's go find your brother," Mandala said. 

* * * 

Pinter rolled, caking her face in a layer of dust. She wheeled to a crouch just as Kargath landed in the space she had just vacated with a heavy impact cloud of dirt. She wheeled to a crouch, raised her crossbow, and fired a fast shot at Kargath's head. The Shattered Hand Chieftan was just that much faster, raising his bladed arm, deflecting away Pinter's arrow like a spit wad. 

It wasn't meant to be a kill shot. Pinter used the time she bought to disengage away with a backwards leap. The crowd of Orcs and Ogres roared with approval as their champion, Kargath, bellowed at her with his arms spread open, his eyes demonic with fury and spittle flying from his fangs. 

Jarvus was still in bear form behind him. Pinter had a glimpse of the red-haired druid rise twelve feet tall on his hind legs, roaring in challenge at the Bladefist champion. 

Kargath spun and swung his blade. Jarvus juked away just enough, and he slashed. Kargath juked in return, and he rammed his hook into Jarvus's thick pelt. 

Pinter raised her crossbow as her heart jumped with worry, lining up a distracting shot, but then Kargath hurled Jarvus all the way across the arena floor to Pinter's feet. 

The crowd roared again. 

"Are you okay?" Pinter asked, forcing her way in to examine Jarvus. 

It was nothing. The hook had caught little more than fur, but a tiny bit of blood stood out darker on Jarvus's red coat. He shook his head back and forth and snarled at Kargath. 

The Orc sneered maniacally. "We will finish what we started in Tanaan, Commander," Kargath said with insulting emphasis on "Commander." "Apparently the Mok'Gul are too incompetent to handle someone as frail as you." 

"You will find me more than a match, Bladefist," Pinter said. 

"And I already find you more than meets the eye, dear Pinter," Kargath said. "I can smell it on you two. We gladiators have a saying, you know. No sex before a fight. It drains the will." 

"This won't be much of a fight," Pinter said. "This crowd will be disappointed." 

"I'll give the crowd something to chew on," Kargath said, and he charged. 

Pinter howled and pointed, and Jarvus charged in return. 

Just as the two met, Kargath lowered his blade like a shovel and scooped up Jarvus. Pinter watched stunned as the Orc wheeled around twice, winding up, and threw the bear into the nearby stands. The Orcs went into a frenzy, setting upon him with a cloud of claws and gnashing teeth. "Jarvus!" Pinter yelled. 

"Worry more for yourself," Kargath said, and he was there. 

Pinter leapt away just in time. As she landed on her feet, a line of pillars rose from the ground. They stood four feet tall, and with a brief puff of smoke they all spouted flames in a wide circle. 

Kargath ran with a roar. Pinter fired a shot, loaded, fired again, gauged how much she had slowed the charging Orc, and she slid deftly between two of the fiery rings, taking shelter between the arena wall and the flames. 

Kargath skidded on his feet, but he was too big to stop in time and too wide to fit in between the flames the way Pinter did. He ran straight into the flame and roared, mostly in anger. "Ah, you coward!" Kargath yelled as Pinter ran the length of the wall behind the flame. "You can't hide behind fire forever!" 

Pinter sprinted. The pillars emitted a low hiss as they spewed their flame, but the hiss was wavering. She figured they would descend soon, and she didn't have long. She looked quickly to the opposite side of the arena. A line of pillars was just starting to rise from the ground. She could make it if she was fast enough. If she was fast enough. 

Just as the pillars lowered back into the ground, Pinter fired a shot at Kargath's face, and she bolted for the flames on the other side. She was halfway there when optimism erupted in her belly. She could make it! She found her mark and lowered her shoulders to dive. 

Kargath's chain wrapped around Piner's ankle. Her right leg wrenched backwards, and she plopped hard on her stomach, losing her wind. Pinter clutched her stomach in pain, and then rough hands grabbed her shoulder and rolled her over. 

Pinter kicked once, but Kargath pinned her leg with his. Pinter tried to wriggle free, but he pinned her other leg. The Shattered Hand Orc loomed over Pinter. "You should have fought me," Kargath said. "Rather than running. It would have been over faster. Now, I will have some fun." 

Pinter spat at him, landing a nice gob right on Kargath's nose. The Orc didn't even flinch. He wiped it clean with his finger, and he wiped his finger on Pinter's crotch. "Easy, now," Kargath said. 

He opened his pants with his good hand. Out fell the largest cock Pinter had ever seen. Orc cocks were larger than Human, but this was a monstrosity, easily eighteen inches flaccid. Kargath grinned wickedly as he started rubbing it, bringing it to life. The huge cock quickly went erect, nearly blocking out Kargath's from Pinter's perspective. His testicles were like oranges, and for some reason Pinter wanted to grip them, not to cripple Kargath but to make him pop. She wanted that cock to burst all over her, a glorious shower of Orc cum to glaze her hot and sticky. 

Any thought of pleasure Pinter might have had was erased then as Kargath forced her legs apart with his knees. Her crotch screamed in pain as her muscles stretched as far as they could without ripping. Pinter cried. She was doomed. She wondered if her parents were thinking of her. 

"Yes," Kargath said. "And that's not the half of it. I'll get it all the way in, Commander. Don't worry. I'll make enough room. There won't be much left of you when I finish. If you're still alive, well, let me apologize now." 

Kargath found his hook. He put it in Pinter's crotch, ready to open her leggings, to uncover her pussy and enter her. 

A horrible roar pierced the stadium, which Pinter realized had gone strangely quiet. Kargath looked, and then a red shape plowed him over, knocking him away. Pinter curled up, free at last to move. 

Jarvus held down Kargath. It was all Pinter could make out. The druid's forward paws were a hailstorm of slashes. Kargath's hands fought vainly, and over Jarvus's angered roars Pinter could hear pained cries and terrified screams. Finally Jarvus stood, and he roared over Kargath's mangled body with a maw soaked dark red with Orc blood. 

Kargath was hardly himself, literally opened up on the ground. His organs were spread, his entrails a snaky web in the dirt around his body. That enormous cock of his was gone, Gods knew where, but Pinter caught a glimpse of what looked like one of his testicles a few feet behind him. One half of Kargath's face was a network of claw marks. The other half was pulpy red flesh. He stared at the heavens with one wide open eye that slowly lost all light of life. "And that...makes...one hundred." 

Pinter walked to Jarvus, who turned to her. She didn't see. She was focused on Kargath, who still clung to some modicum of existence. Kargath's good eye turned to her. He saw her. Pinter stood over him. "I'll remember you as a stain on my boot," she said. 

Splat! She rammed her boot heal in Kargath's eye. 

"Fucker." 

Pinter looked to the stands where Kargath had thrown Jarvus. Bits of Orc bodies were scattered everywhere. Blood splattered the seats. A few stray Orcs ran for the exits, where they bunched up comically in the doorways. "Nicely done," Pinter said as she picked up her crossbow. 

Jarvus growled quietly at Pinter's side. "My pleasure," he said. 

They collected her spent arrows in silence, and they left the vacant arena. 

Gathering dusk hanged like a shroud over Highmaul. Neither Pinter nor Jarvus were particularly interested in discussing what had happened back in the arena. Everything was quiet. The streets were empty. 

"Where are the Ogres?" Jarvus asked. "They couldn't have fled." 

"They're here," Pinter said. "But they know who wants to deal with us. They won't get in his way." 

With that, a white portal spun itself into existence twenty yards ahead. Pinter and Jarvus froze in their tracks. 

"Khadgar?" Jarvus asked. 

"No," Pinter said. She walked slowly to the portal, holding out her hand in careful curiosity. She could almost feel the other side. She could almost smell him. "This is our way. Let's go meet the Sorcerer King." 

* * * 

Mandala and the others could barely keep up with the Saberon. He ran far ahead through the empty streets of the Walled City, sniffing as he ran, following some scent that lingered just out of reach and foiled him. The Saberon snarled as he ran, in between sniffs, and every second he seemed to run faster in his desperate hunt. 

"Why is he so frenzied?" Anna asked in Mandala's arm. 

"Because he can't find a way through," Mandala said. And it was true. Mandala could feel it, the Saberon's growing frustration as he searched in vain for some way through the structures that blocked their progress. The white wall had ended just past the amphitheater, but there was too much stuff in the way now to get through. Surely if the Saberon could find an opening even a third his size he could squeeze through. But there was nothing, just the hint of a familiar scent that drove him mad and sent him searching. 

"We should all just go..." 

"Shut up!" everyone yelled at Balthus. 

They followed the Saberon until finally he reached the high wall of the city itself, end of the line. The Saberon roared in agitation. He darted back and forth, whining loudly, looking all over the stone structures for some way through. "There must be something," Mandala said. 

The Saberon looked behind her. His ears perked, and he ran. Mandala looked. 

He ran to a tower that rose just a little bit above the other buildings. It wasn't much, maybe a religious sanctum of some sort, some prayer caller's residence in more peaceful times. The Saberon dashed inside and disappeared as he climbed a spiral staircase. 

"Let's go!" Mandala said, and they followed him to the top of the tower. 

Highmaul stretched ahead of them, an ocean of Ogre buildings. The white wall of the amphitheater was off to their right. Just beyond it was an arena of some sort. As Mandala looked straight ahead, a hill rose above the rest of the city on the Nagrand shoreline. Atop the hill was a palace with domes and minarets. Inside the palace, if the Saberon's tense posture and determined gaze was any indication, they would find Pinter and Jarvus. They would also find the Sorcerer King. 

Mandala scratched the Saberon's head. He shook free, but he looped back and rubbed his cheek against Mandala's shoulder. "Good job," she laughed. "Now how do we get there?" 

"Make a portal," Balthus said, his bloody cloth still pressed to his nose. 

Fitzzlenoob put his fists on his hips and glared up at Balthus. "How many times do you need to hear?" the Gnome asked. "Voren needs to know exactly what's out there." 

"I can do it," Voren said. 

All eyes turned to the mage. 

"I can try," Voren said. "I know how far I need to go. I can at least get us on the doorstep." 

"That's no good," Mandala said. "If Pinter and Jarvus are there we'll have Ogres all over us once we appear. We need to land inside." 

"Then I'll need help," Voren said. "I need to talk to Khadgar." 

A chorus of low roars and growls sounded up the street. The tower floor shook with a cacophony of approaching vibrations. 

"If you're going to do it, do it now," Mandala said, setting down Anna against the wall and drawing her sword. She took her shield from her back. "We'll hold them as long as we can." 

Balthus sighed in resignation and dropped his cloth. Fitzzlenoob waved his hands in the air and opened them above his head. A huge demon in black and gold armor carrying two elaborate swords joined the party in the tower. Fitzzlenoob pointed at the staircase. The demon bowed his head and descended. The Gnome and Balthus followed him down. The Saberon turned on Mandala with an eager snarl, a mighty boast that filled her with courage. He bounded down the stairs. 

Anna tried to find her feet, but Mandala gingerly held her on the floor. "Stay here," Mandala said. "You are in no condition." 

"I want to help," Anna said. 

"You will," Mandala said with a smile. "Let's get to your brother first. Okay?" 

Anna nodded. "Okay." 

The roars were just below the tower now. Fitzzlenoob's demon howled something not of this world that sent a shiver up Mandala's spine, and there was a loud sound of crashing steel. 

"Mandala?" Balthus called out from downstairs. 

She pet Anna's head, and she looked at Voren. The mage strained both of his hands in the air. Green light sparked and fizzled out between his open palms. "How long do you need?" Mandala asked. 

An Ogre's roar shook the entire tower. 

"Mandala!" Balthus yelled. 

"Go," Voren said. "I'll call for you." 

Mandala went to the stairs, descended fast, and threw her shield into a wall of Ogres. 

* * * 

Pinter and Jarvus fell from the other end of the portal and landed in a wide, circular room. She figured they were in the Sorcerer King's palace now, and this had to be the atrium. Surrounding them in a semi-circle along the wall were thirteen hulking Ogres in battle armor. They stood silently, waiting, watching Pinter and Jarvus from unseen eyes inside their helmets. The portal behind the two adventurers disappeared with an audible pop, startling Pinter and eliciting a growl from Jarvus. There was another sound, too, like a deep steam engine from Gnomerragan churning up a desolate road, and Pinter realized it was the breath of their new adversaries amplified by their faceplates. Pinter stepped closer to Jarvus and put her hand on his head. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 06



"You know how this will end," Pinter said to the druid. 

"I can see it," Jarvus said. 

"Good." 

Pinter fired two quick shots at the Ogres on the far left. One of her arrows flew perfectly through the faceplate eye hole of an armored brute who then fell face first on the floor with a loud thud. The other arrow found the jugular vein of the other Ogre who fell to his knees and clutched his throat as blood sprayed between his fingers. 

Jarvus had already reached the Ogres in the middle of the line, racing ahead bellowing as the line closed on him in a pincer. Pinter fired two more shots, hitting two more Ogres in the ankle, tripping them up so she could leap on their backs and break their necks with a firm grip on their helmets and a hefty twist of their heads. She jumped from her fourth kill and readied a new shot, but she held her fire. 

Jarvus spun backwards with his front paw stuck soundly in the leather chest guard of an Ogre who flew through the air and crashed head first into the wall at the end of the atrium. Four more Ogres surrounded him, giving him room, mindful of the eight dismembered Ogres who filled the floor. Jarvus stood up with his hands high overhead, roaring like a true bear of the wild. The Ogres hesitated, and so Jarvus acted for them. He punched down on the first Ogre's head, slamming him into the floor. He ripped up the belly of the second Ogre, spraying the wall with bloody viscera. He ducked the swinging club of the third Ogre and ripped off his leg with a wide slash. And he threw the leg at the fourth Ogre, who was fleeing for the atrium exit, tripping him up so that Pinter could take an easier shot. Her arrow hit the unfortunate Ogre just below the back of his helmet, piercing up through his skull and his brain. Pinter collected her arrows as Jarvus caught his breath and licked his front legs clean. 

"We saw the same thing," Pinter said. "Let's go." 

They jogged through the doorway that the Ogres had been guarding and entered a new room with a long blue rug on the floor. The rug led to another door where two Ogre mages held up their hands with glowing blue orbs. 

"In the name of the Sorcerer King," one of the mages yelled, "I command you to..." 

He went silent with an arrow straight through his mouth. He fell dead. The other mage was pinned to the wall with an arrow through his cheek. Pinter collected both arrows, and she and Jarvus passed through the doorway. 

And they were there. The throne room. Pinter and Jarvus ran ahead as the fat Sorcerer King sat quietly in his chair, his chin in his hand, considering these tiny adventurers with mild amusement as they charged his seat with every intention of ending him. He even grinned, and as Pinter raised her crossbow and Jarvus ran a few paces ahead to attack, he laughed. 

Pinter stopped running so she could get a better aim and make sure her shot found the space between the Sorcerer King's eyes. "The Iron Horde loses Highmaul today," she said, her finger squeezing the trigger. 

"Oh, I don't think so," the Sorcerer King said. 

Invisible restraints suddenly grabbed Pinter. Her crossbow wrenched free and skidded across the floor. Her arms went out to the side, and she rose three feet in the air. 

Jarvus's front legs went frozen and his ass end seemed to crash into his front. He floated, as well, a big mass of fur and muscle. 

Pinter struggled to free herself from whatever force had captured her, but she couldn't move. "What's happening?" she asked. 

The Sorcerer King laughed. He stood. "I'm reacquainting you with a couple of friends," he said. "You remember Corneas and Jeezelrod." 

The Night Elf and the Goblin materialized right in front of the throne. They held out their hands in a binding spell keeping Pinter and Jarvus firmly in place. Corneas, the Night Elf, grinned wickedly at Pinter. "So good to see you again, Commander," Corneas said. 

"You son of a bitch!" Pinter yelled at him. "I fucking hate rogues!" 

"Understandable," Corneas said. "But I'm a businessman. So is my friend Jeezelrod here. Khadgar had a convincing offer, but the Iron Horde made a more reasonable one. Seeing as how you and your Draenei friend ruined that deal, I figured I'd make another one." 

Pinter fought even harder to free herself, but to no avail. "I swear by my blood if I get my hands on you..." 

Corneas twisted his hands. Pinter cried in pain as her invisible restraints gripped her even tighter and seemed to pull her limbs in four different directions. "You won't be getting your hands on me," Corneas said. "In a few minutes I'll be long gone. But don't worry. You'll still be alive. Your friend here won't be so lucky, though." 

"He'll make a fine rug in Grommash's living room," Jeezelrod said. 

Jarvus roared at the Goblin, who sneered boastfully at him. 

"What are you going to do with me?" Pinter asked. 

"Well," Corneas said, "I offered to kill you. I think you'd make a splendid trophy, or toy, depending on who took you. But the Sorcerer King other tastes that need to be fulfilled." 

The Sorcerer King stood high behind Corneas and Jeezelrod. He motioned broadly to the far end of the throne room. "Phemos!" the Sorcerer King declared mightily. "Pol!" 

The room thudded with the approaching footsteps of massive Ogres. Pinter didn't even want to know what awaited her, but then Corneas moved his hands. Pinter rotated in the air, lowered to the floor, and rested on her knees with her legs spread, her back arched. 

Across the room strode two enormous Ogres, both cyclopean, one gray, the other brown. They grinned at Pinter with mouths full of fangs, and they were completely naked. Spikes protruded from their shoulders like natural guards, and their elbows and forearms were covered in horns. Their cocks were long, dangling between their legs like clock pendulums. Pinter tried to look away, but her restraints kept her head in place. The two Ogres rubbed their cocks as they approached, bringing themselves erect, revealing their enormous scrotums beneath. 

The Sorcerer King laughed behind Pinter and descended from his throne. She saw him from the corner of her eye as he opened his robe, revealing his own cock that was already erect. 

"He likes to watch," Corneas said. "Get ready." 

* * * 

Mandala's enormous sword crashed into the helmet of another Ogre, smashing the iron plate, crushing the delicate skull cradled inside. Blood sprayed from the air holes on the faceplate and dark red gore leaked from the neck. She followed through her swing and the Ogre fell along her trajectory, dead before he tumbled limp to the floor. His helmet came loose, spilling what was inside. Mandala was already onto her next assailant. 

A dozen Ogres lay dead and dying in the base of the tower, and still they came roaring up the street. Balthus cast wave after wave of healing spells on the adventurers, staying safely on the staircase behind them. It might not be safe for much longer, though. Balthus only had so much mana at his disposal, and he would be running out if this attack kept up much longer. Mandala rammed her sword straight into the exposed Ogre belly before her, piercing through, and she pulled out, the barbed end of her blade ripping free with most of the Ogre's entrails attached. He fell to the floor with a pitiful death moan. 

Two more Ogres charged behind him. 

"Voren!" Mandala yelled up the stairs. 

"Almost," came his reply, and Mandala noted the strain in his voice. 

"I don't know how much longer I can do this!" Fitzzlenoob said as he sent a wave of purple flames into the wall of Ogres. His demon was still fighting alongside the Saberon, but both of them were slowing down. There were so many Ogres. 

"We fight until the end," Mandala said, ramming the butt of her sword on an Ogre's head. 

"When will that be?" Fitzzlenoob asked. 

Mandala didn't respond. There was an opening in the Ogre frontline, and she rushed ahead to exploit it. She stepped past the demon into the open air and hurled her shield at two Ogres, watching with cool satisfaction as it bounced between them. One of them lost an arm. The other only dropped his hammer. The advancing Ogres stopped at the sight of Mandala in the tower entrance. She didn't waste time on a taunt or some clever adage. She just charged and thinned their ranks before they could counterattack. 

The demon watched her, and he ran ahead to join her. Just then a small Orc appeared on a rooftop across the street. He swung a slingshot over his head, and Fitzzlenoob saw him just before the Orc threw his rock. "No!" 

The rock raced straight for Mandala's head, but she didn't see. Neither did the demon, who stepped between them at just the last second. Black ichor sprayed all over Mandala as the demon's head exploded from the impact. He fell dead at her side. 

Fitzzlenoob cried out in anguish at the sight of his fallen minion. The Saberon roared and charged to join Mandala, but the dirt burst at his feet as another rock intended for him missed low. He dashed back into the tower. Three Ogres took the opportunity and circled behind Mandala. She was cut off. 

"I have you!" Balthus yelled for Mandala. A new wave of green healing flowed from his hands, over the Saberon and Fitzzlenoob, surrounding Mandala in a shield. What little he had left sputtered out in his fingertips, and Balthus looked at them at a loss. "I'm out! No more mana!" 

"Go to Voren!" Mandala yelled. She ducked a hammer and cut away two legs that belonged to different Ogres. 

"We're not leaving you," Fitzzlenoob said with a fresh wave of purple flame. It was more gray than purple, though, indicating that his own mana was running thin. 

"Go back to him, now!" Mandala yelled, and a hammer crashed onto her shoulder guard. She paused for a moment, but parried away the oncoming remise, knocking the Ogre down with the edge of her shield. "He has to be ready." 

"What about you?" Balthus asked. 

"I'll manage," Mandala said, and she swung her sword as she rotated in two perfect circles. Two of the Ogres behind her fell in pieces. The others backed up a few paces, giving her space that wouldn't last for long. 

Mandala found her opening and retreated. Fitzzlenoob and Balthus were already running up the stairs. The Saberon waited at the foot. He looked at Mandala with his yellow eyes wide open and obedient. "Go with them," Mandala said. She turned just in time to disarm an Ogre and decapitate him. "I'll buy your time." 

The Saberon whined once, but he bounded up the staircase. Mandala stood on the first step, and she wheeled about with her sword and shield wide open in a fearsome challenge. 

The first three Ogres were easy enough. The next two used their fallen comrades as leverage to take the high ground, and Mandala had to retreat a few steps up the stairs. She was still able to cut clean through a shoulder guard, and the stricken Ogre fell back on his friend, delaying the next attack. 

But the attack came with a battering ram. Literally. Mandala froze as she saw four Ogres hauling the weapon up the street, an enormous stone ram's skull on the front end. She buckled down with her feet planted firm in the stairs. She pressed her shield into the wall of dead Ogres before her, and she was ready for the ram's head when it crashed into her. 

Mandala's ankles burned in protest. Her shoulders howled, and her spine flared in pain, but she held her ground. The Ogre bodies crunched loudly between her shield and the ram's head, and the pressure released as the Ogres holding the siege weapon backed up, readying for another thrust. 

Mandala didn't wait for it. She backed up the stairs in time as the ram's head came again, crashing through the pile of dead. The way was clear. 

"Mandala!" Voren called down. "We're through! Hurry!" 

"I'm coming!" Mandala pointed at the Ogre nearest her on the battering ram. A hammer of light fell on his head, and he fell unconscious. 

"I can't hold it!" Voren called. 

"I'm coming!" Mandala spat on the staircase, smiting it in a web of cinders. One last rush of light filled her, and she pointed at the next Ogre on the battering ram, sending him out cold to the floor. Mandala left the fight and ran up the staircase. 

And found the top of the tower empty. She was too late. Voren couldn't hold the portal any longer. They were gone. 

A hammer caught her square in the back. 

* * * 

The gray Ogre towered above Pinter in her prone position. She looked up into his single, wide open eye, and then her vision was filled with his massive erection. 

The other Ogre, the brown one, had circled behind her, and she waited for him to undress her as she knew he would. As she crouched there unable to move she wondered just how much of the gray Ogre's cock would fit in her throat. That's where it was headed. Something about the thought sent a tingle through her core, and just before the large hand gripped the back of her leggings and tore them loose Pinter felt a surge of moisture in her crotch. 

She wondered what Ogre cum tasted like, or if she would even be able to taste it with that head so deep down her throat. Her leggings were soaked. She wanted them gone. She wanted cool air on her naked ass, and she wanted to be mounted. Now. In that moment before her leggings vanished and she was granted her wish, Pinter wondered if the thought was even hers or if the Sorcerer King or Corneas had planted it in her brain. Whatever rationality remained vanished, though, and she licked her lips in anticipation as the gray Ogre knelt in front of her. And then she was naked. 

Next to her, Jeezelrod circled Jarvus with a long dagger ready and waiting. "Grommash will pay me plenty for you," the Goblin rogue said. "The only question is what form I should give him. As you are now, the bear? Or in your Worgen form? There aren't many red Worgens." 

Jarvus growled angrily at Jeezelrod who laughed and poked the red bear with the knife. 

Pinter was oblivious, or whatever part of her still cared was too far away to do anything about it. The brown Ogre grabbed her with one hand firmly around her creamy waist, and then her pussy burned with pressure as his tree limb erection pressed against her. Pinter grimaced in pain that soon burned red hot, so hot that tears leaked from her eyes. The Ogre forced his way inside, but her canal seemed to expand as he pressed deeper. The red hot pain washed cleanly into pleasure, and Pinter cried through her grimace, not a painful moan but a desperate plea for more. 

The Ogre knew what she wanted. He hesitated and gripped Pinter's waist more firmly with his hand. For a moment she thought he would pull out and start over, but then he plunged the rest of the way. Pinter exploded with an orgasm that raced up her core and through her heart. She screamed in the throne room, and then the Ogre thrust again, and again, again. He wasn't even started yet. 

The Sorcerer King sniggered and rubbed his cock as Pinter got fucked. She couldn't keep her eyes open through the pressure of that long, thick cock pounding into her over and over. There was no room for the juices that poured freely from her insides. She was plugged up, and the feel of that warm pussy fluid trapped inside her drove Pinter wild. 

She didn't have long to appreciate it, though, as the gray Ogre before her finally got what he was after. He clutched the back of Pinter's blonde head. She opened her eyes just a little, and she caught a glimpse of that enormous erection heading straight for her. Pinter opened her mouth just enough, and the head was there. 

Her lips parted, and then it was all inside her. The Ogre held himself in place, the back of Pinter's head in his hand, his cock reaching past her soft palate, nearly into her esophagus. The brown Ogre kept fucking her all the while, and tears flowed from Pinter's eyes again as her breath escaped her. For a second she thought this was how they were going to kill her, to suffocate her with Ogre cock, but then he pulled out. 

Pinter coughed and gagged. A thick trail of gooey saliva and throat juice reached between her tongue and the belly of the Ogre's cock. She raced to catch her breath, fighting to do so with the other Ogre still pounding her steadily from behind. Pinter's lungs returned somewhat to normal, but then the gray Ogre gripped her head tightly, and he pushed himself back into her mouth. 

"Pinter!" Jarvus growled. 

Jeezelrod tapped him on the nose with the tip of his dagger. "She can't hear you," the Goblin said. "No one will hear you again, my friend." 

Jarvus bared his fangs at Jeezelrod. The Goblin only sneered, and he rested the blade against Jarvus's ear. 

What happened was almost too fast for words to describe. 

Pinter was lost in her fuck. She didn't have time to suck the gray Ogre, who only fucked Pinter's throat with as much force and determination as his brown twin did her pussy. Pinter didn't come again, but she didn't want this to end. The Ogres were literally ravaging her body, but all she could think of was how much she wanted the gray Ogre to come in her throat. Her tongue mapped out the veiny network on his cock's wide belly, and she stared at him through blurry tears. His cock swelled then inside her mouth, expanding her cheeks, tightening up whatever space she had in her throat, and Pinter knew she was about to get her wish. And then it happened. 

The gray Ogre faltered. He thrust once more. Once more. And finally once more, and he ruptured. Hot cum flooded her, filling every crevice inside of the young hunter. It poured down her throat into her stomach. It oozed up into her sinuses. It leaked out her nose. Out her mouth, around that thick, massive cock. And it burned behind her eyes, drawing fresh tears. 

Pinter couldn't swallow. She just let it fill her. Finally the gray Ogre pulled out, and she gagged up a wad of cum that dribbled from her tongue onto the floor. 

The Sorcerer King laughed as he rubbed himself off. His erection lifted nearly to his chest. "Do you like it?" he asked. 

"Yes," Pinter said. The voice was vaguely hers. 

"Do you want me to come on you?" 

She wanted to say "no," but she couldn't. "Yes." 

"Would you like that, too? If I come on your face?" 

"Yes." 

The Sorcerer King stepped closer. "The Ogres of Highmaul and the Iron Horde will be allies for the rest of time," he said. "Yrel will be wiped from Nagrand, and I will keep her dead body as a toy, along with you." 

Pinter glanced, and she saw his the head of his cock just inches away. She closed her eyes, ready for the shot that was about to come. 

The two Ogres roared then, and the one behind her pulled out. Her insides popped, and all he juice that had plugged inside of Pinter finally spilled free. She erupted in an orgasm at the relieved pressure, the muscles in her canal working again and again to expel her fluid. Pinter moaned in time with each spasm, pushing it along, relishing the time it was taking. She didn't see the portal that had opened in the throne room. 

It opened in mid-air. Out dropped Voren and the Saberon, Fitzelnoob and Balthus. And Anna. They gathered up quickly, forming a defensive ring around the two healers, and they saw what was happening. 

"By the gods," Fitzzlenoob said. 

"Get them!" the Sorcerer King said, rushing to finish himself off. 

Voren saw what he was doing with his cock so close to Pinter's cheek. The Night Elf's face twisted with rage, and he pointed at the Sorcerer King with a hand covered in frost. 

The Sorcerer King's erection turned to solid ice. He stared at it in wide-eyed shock, and he screamed in surprise. His hand was frozen to it, and he tried to pull it free. 

All he managed to do was rip his frozen cock clean from his body. He howled in agony. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 06



Corneas and Jeezelrod bunched together, breaking their respective spells. 

Jarvus collapsed and returned to his human form. Pinter fell flat on her stomach, mostly out of her mind still, but her rational thought slowly returned with the spell finally broken. She forced herself to cough up whatever was left that the Ogre had shot inside her, and she gagged up the last little bit. She was never more pissed off in her life, but she didn't have the strength yet to stand. 

The two Ogres advanced on the adventurers, but Fitzzlenoob raised a wall of purple flame around them. Then he snapped his fingers, and his six-armed demoness whinnied a war cry as she spun through the fire, assailing the two Ogres who stopped in shock. 

It was enough for the Saberon to leap through the purple flame and attack while they were too distracted. He clung to the gray Ogre's chest, sank his fang's into his neck, and tore the Ogre's throat clean out. He jumped onto the brown Ogre's head as the demoness swung two of her swords into his belly. Soon the brown Ogre was a pile of flesh on the throne room floor. 

Corneas and Jeezelrod stood side by side, about to go invisible. But Voren had recovered from casting his spell on the Sorcerer King, and he inhaled deep and quick. The mage exhaled like a dragon. Orange fire swept around the two rogues, who screamed as their flesh charred and cracked. Voren snapped his fingers and blinked out of the ring of purple fire. He stood right in front of the two rogues, and he swept his right arm in an arc, casting a wall of frost over Corneas and Jeezelrod. They were frozen firmly in place. Voren snapped his fingers again, and he was back inside the ring of purple flame. 

Balthus saw Pinter lying Prone on the floor. He had no idea what she had just endured, but he sent a clean wave of healing over the exhausted hunter. 

Pinter's resilience returned like a charging talbuk. She found her feet, not worrying about her missing leggings or being naked from the waist down. She found the Sorcerer King curled on the floor, howling in agony with the frozen mass of his cock still stuck to his hand. She kicked him once hard in the belly. The Sorcerer King cried out. She kicked him again. And again. She kicked his chest. His ribs. His mangled crotch. She kicked him until blood spurted out of his mouth and his teeth were stained red. She kicked him until he hurt so much he couldn't cry anymore. 

"You like to watch?" Pinter asked him. The Sorcerer King's eyes moved up to hers. She met them, and she glared deep into his soul. In that moment, he knew she was the one who would kill him. "You like to watch so much? Watch this." 

Pinter rammed her foot down on his hand, shattering the frozen cock. Then she kicked the Sorcerer King square in the eye. He didn't move again. 

"Jarvus!" 

Anna ran from the purple flame and found her brother lying on the floor in his human form. She picked him up and held him, and he beamed with shock and disbelief. "Anna?" 

Anna nodded through her joyous tears. Jarvus laughed, hardly able to contain his own swelling emotions, and they embraced. 

Fitzzlenoob lowered his flames. He pointed at the doorway to the throne room. His demoness nodded, and she moved to guard the room's only entrance. 

The Saberon ran to Pinter's side, and he hugged her. At any other time she would have loved the feel of his warm, blanket-like fur again, but she was in no mood for male contact. She shoved the Saberon away, and she immediately felt her remorse ignite at the base of her neck. He hadn't done anything to her. She just needed her space. But still, the humanoid cat cowered a few feet from her with eyes so pleading and sorry. Pinter knelt in front of him with her hand extended. "I'm sorry, you," Pinter said. "It's been a rough day." 

The Saberon's tail flicked back and forth. He licked his nose, and he bounded away to join the demoness guarding the doorway. 

Balthus and Voren walked to her. "In the nick of time," Balthus said. "Excellent work, Commander. I mean it." 

Pinter collected her leggings and stood. "Thank you, but, go fuck yourself," she said. "Just...yeah. Go fuck yourself." 

Balthus only nodded as Pinter walked off on her own. She stopped, realizing something. "Where's Mandala?" 

Silence greeted her. Pinter's heart sank. 

* * * 

They walked all the way back through the Walled City. It was a ghost town, as if the Ogres of Highmaul knew that their Sorcerer King had been killed and had fled from the heroes who were making their way back. The adventurers walked in silence, Pinter leading the way, the Saberon bringing up the rear, Jarvus and Anna quiet in each other's arms, in Human form. 

Pinter wondered what was left for her on Draenor if her best friend was dead, if this was what the dangers that waited for her planned to do with her. Pinter was through. They would find their way back to Khadgar and she would quit. Someone else, maybe Voren, could take up the mantle of Commander and lead the Alliance forces to victory over Grommash and his Iron Horde. Pinter wanted nothing else to do with it. At least she had the satisfaction of ending the monsters who had violated her. She could take that home to Azeroth, along with the trophies she had collected here in Highmaul. She had removed the shoulders of the Twin Ogron and knew she could make a substantial bow from the horned shells. She would only use it to hunt Elwynn Forest wolves. She was through with adventuring. She would settle down, but then just the thought of doing so without searching Frostfire Ridge one more time, or of listening to that wonderful Draenei laugh at dinnertime ruptured a void in Pinter's chest. She was alone. But she was through. That's all that mattered now. 

As they neared the gates of the city the clamor of battle and the rattle of armor greeted them. They reached the top of a small rise in the street, and the rest of the way was filled with Sotrmshield soldiers cleaning up whatever scant resistance remained in the Ogres. A platoon of troops jogged steadily past the adventurers, saluting Pinter as they passed. She only nodded, and they continued to the gates in silence. 

Yrel was waiting for them, the Draenei paladin who had risen from nothing in Tanaan but who was fast-tracked now for the Exarch trials. She stepped forward to greet Pinter. "Commander," Yrel said. "Well done." 

Pinter brushed her off. She found a low wall, and she sat down hard. She buried her face in her hands. And she cried. 

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Pinter moved away, and someone sat next to her. She was lost in her sobbing. The entirety of the last few days welled forth, and she couldn't control it. It had to come out. For better or worse, she had to do this. 

Pinter heard nothing but her own sobs. She heard nothing of what the others said. She couldn't hear who was sitting next to her. She only felt the person move closer again, and put an arm around her. 

Pinter raised up, making to shove away whoever it was. 

Two deep blue eyes glowed at her from the purple face of a smiling Draenei. "Pinter," Mandala smiled. 

Pinter lunged. She threw her arms around her friend. And she kissed her. She kissed her shamelessly. She kissed her joyously. She kissed Mandala and drank every ounce of sweetness on those soft Draenei lips. Mandala held Pinter tight and kissed her in return, holding her friend close, not letting her get away. Finally they broke apart, and Pinter beamed into those wonderful blue eyes. 

"I love you," Pinter said. 

"I guess I love you, too," Mandala said, and they laughed, and they embraced once more. 

Pinter would fight on. She knew then and there. As long as this world was full of dangers like the ones she had faced in Highmaul, she would carry on and destroy them. She would see it through. What Mandala said the other night rang in Pinter's head. She was not alone. Her friends and allies would help her, and they would cleanse this world of Grommash's tyranny. With Mandala at her side - with her friend at her side - they would be unstoppable. She absorbed Mandala's wonderful body heat, and she kissed her one more time. 

"Commander, ma'am?" Jarvus and Anna stood nearby with the others. 

"Yes?" Pinter said, unable to wipe the smile from her face. 

"We want to join you," Anna said. "All of us do. In your garrison." 

"If you will have us," Balthus said, bowing low and subordinate. 

Pinter looked behind them. The Saberon was gone, but she knew he would follow her, wherever she went, in his own strange way. "Yes," Pinter said. "I will have you." 

The moon peeked through a cloud just then, casting dim light on the seven adventurers. On Pinter's new family.



Commander Pinter Ch. 07



There were hisses in the darkness. A mass of shadows writhed on the bed that creaked and groaned with rhythmic motions, the shadows seeming to implode on themselves over and over. There were breaths, heavy and panting, and the shadows moved, fell, twisted around each other. They paused for a moment, then the shadows reached for each other, closing in, starting up again. They breathed loudly, lustfully. Then moonlight shined through the window, revealing the scene. 

Pinter and Mandala were locked in a scissor on the bed in Pinter's room in the Talbuk. Pinter lay flat on her back, her left knee up in the air, her right leg stretched out around Mandala who fit her crotch against Pinter's like a puzzle piece as she sat upright. The purple-skinned Draenei gripped Pinter's knee with her right hand. Her other hand reached out, up Pinter's thigh on the bed, up her belly, and she grabbed Pinter's breasts. Her hooves were on either side of Pinter's head. The two women pushed against each other with an irregular rhythm, moving when needed and knowing when to do so. The bed sheets were a disaster under Pinter. They had been at it most of the night. This wasn't their first position. 

Pinter's skin was hot and damp with the sweat of their sex. She riled at the sight of Mandala's purple skin glistening in the moonlight. Mandala was close now. Her breaths went from thin hisses to high pitched moans, so high pitched that the Draenei woman sounded like a school girl. She pressed her vagina over and over against Pinter's, their juices a wonderful, sloshy mess in their crotches made even more tantalizing by the feel of their labia rubbing against each other, the itchy burn of Pinter's clit as she ground herself into a crazy blaze. Mandala was about to come. Pinter grit her teeth, fighting through the intensity of her own welling orgasm, and she pushed Mandala over the edge. 

She dug in with her ass. She rigidly thrust against Mandala, focusing on that hard little clit of hers, her vision blurring with tears as climaxing was an inevitability now for Pinter. She had her lover on the run and went in for the kill, welcoming her own finish. Pinter blinked away her impairment and watched her glorious victory. 

Mandala was helpless. She clutched Pinter's knee tightly. She moaned over and over in time as she rocked her hips, as Pinter ground against her, and her moans grew louder. Then Mandala swung her head back. Pinter loved this part. The Draenei closed her eyes tight and cried out to the ceiling, her body undulating and bucking as she rode out the overwhelming orgasm. Her perfect breasts jiggled with each wave. Fresh sweat soaked her skin, and Pinter finally surrendered. Fire shot through her core. Her belly fluttered, and she moaned long and loud as a flood escaped her insides, mixing with the deluge that flowed from Mandala as the Draenei moaned lightly and caught her breath. 

Finally Mandala came back from the peak that Pinter had sent her to, her wits returning in a gradual thaw. She loosened the arch of her back and leaned over Pinter with a sigh. The Human woman looked up and saw the beautiful blue light of Mandala's eyes right overhead. They caught their breath for another moment, and they smiled. Mandala leaned in, and they kissed. 

Pinter loved Mandala's hair. She loved running her hand through those playful bangs as she kissed her, gripping her sweeping horns, holding her head closely against hers. She loved drinking Mandala's lips, and she loved that musky scent of hers after a stretch of fantastic lovemaking. The Draenei were truly a race of the light. Lovemaking was almost a sacred thing, not to be taken for granted, and Pinter was grateful that the Gods had brought Mandala to her as a friend, ally, and lover. She broke the kiss and held Mandala to her breast as the Draenei shifted her legs in the creamy glaze on their thighs. They lay on the demolished bed, looping into a gentle embrace, and Pinter kissed the top of Mandala's head. "I love you." 

Mandala laughed. "No you don't." 

"Of course I do," Pinter said, but she knew it was false. 

"It's sweet of you to say it," Mandala said. "Maybe you do love me, but you love me as a friend. I love you as a friend. I make no mistake of it. But you love someone else. Love love. And that's a beautiful thing." 

Pinter closed her eyes and put her nose in Mandala's hair. She was right, but she wouldn't admit it aloud. 

"I guess we do love each other," Mandala said. "But I understand what we have. I like what we have, and I think we should enjoy it until you're ready to stop." 

"I don't want to stop," Pinter said. 

"Not yet," Mandala said. "And you could never hurt me. I will always be your friend, and when the time is right, when you know it is time, I will help you find who it is you love." 

Pinter breathed in deep, taking in the flowery scent of Mandala's hair. She swallowed, and she exhaled. "Thank you," Pinter said. 

"I'll still be here," Mandala said. "Just tell me when." And they settled in, their whispers becoming more sporadic until finally they went silent and gave in to the sweetness of their embrace. 

* * * 

Gorgrond was hot. That's how Pinter remembered it, and that's what greeted them when they landed in the Everbloom. It was like the entire territory was built on top of a giant furnace, from the rocky desert and sulfur lakes in the west to the sweltering jungle that wrapped around the eastern side of the region. Pinter took one breath when she stepped off her griffon mount, and she coughed up a lungful of humid air. 

"I don't know what anyone could possibly want in this torture chamber," Anna said, leaving her silver-haired Worgen form for the youthful demeanor of humanity. 

"It's best to go along when the Kirin Torr see something," Pinter said. 

"And share in the rewards when they find it," Mandala said. 

"Still," Anna said with a sour expression as she contemplated the gnarled vines that surrounded them in the hazy morning, "couldn't they have picked a more pleasant zone to detect magic?" 

"Give it a morning, eh, Anna," Jarvus said, still in his red-haired Worgen form. He hopped up behind his sister and playfully nudged her. "We'll be done with this in no time, back in the garrison for tea and rylak crepes by noon." 

Anna's sour expression waned, but she rubbed her arms as she looked around the jungle that seemed to grow moment by moment. 

Anna and Jarvus had fit right in with Pinter's garrison. So had all of the newcomers who had joined her after Highmaul. Balthus had learned his place and obeyed Pinter when she gave a command. He would have been here in the Everbloom, but Voren and Fitzzlenoob needed support on a mission to infiltrate Blingtron's secret vault. Anna was a quick volunteer, and Jarvus refused to be too far from his sister. Pinter couldn't blame him. She didn't know if she could handle the death of a loved one as calmly as Jarvus had. 

And this mission was more than a simple ride along with the Kirin Torr. Everbloom forces had taken part in the Nagrand ambush. Shortly afterward, Khadgar lost contact with Archmage Sol, the head of activity in the Everbloom, and so they were here now to find out what happened and hopefully kick-start the operation. 

The four adventurers walked along the ridge that extended away from the flight station. Up ahead the vines and bloated tree trunks grew thicker, denser, and twisted into a tunnel full of enigmatic darkness. It was the entrance to the Wilds. Pinter's heart beat steady and calm in her chest, but her stomach tightened in a knot. She realized she walked with her bow in hand, the same bow she had constructed from the Ogre parts she had looted in Highmaul. It was a powerful bow, and she had shattered a few Iron Horde shields with it in the time since. Pinter kept her bow ready, and she saw Mandala walking with her sword drawn. Something waited for them. They would find out soon enough. 

Mandala and Jarvus charged headlong into a field full of lashers, little flower creatures that sprung from the earth and walked around as if on hind legs. Mandala threw her shield. Jarvus just ripped apart everything he could find with his panther claws. Pinter stood next to Anna, who remained in Human form and cast a few basic healing spells to take care of any cuts and bruises. It was over fast, though, and they left the field of shredded foliage behind, walking deeper into the Wilds. 

"Were these things here before?" Anna asked as they walked. 

"I killed a few when I first came through Gorgrond," Pinter said. "But I don't remember this many." 

"Something is wrong," Mandala said. "I can smell it." 

"Is that...Commander Pinter?" 

The adventurers stopped and looked up to the jungle canopy. A woman with short red hair in a long, purple robe clung to the upper branches of a tree. The woman beamed with relief at the sight of Pinter and her companions, and Pinter recognized Archmage Sol immediately. "Oh, thank heavens," Sol said. "I was hoping Khadgar would send someone." 

"Archmage, Ma'am," Pinter said with a slight bow of her head. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing up there?" 

"They've been taken," Sol said, and she jumped from the tree, falling slowly to the grass at Pinter's feet. 

"Taken?" Mandala asked. "What do you mean?" 

Pinter's stomach worked into an even more unpleasant knot at the panic and worry that burrowed all over Sol's face. The Archmage was haggard. Pinter recalled the beautiful woman, a favorite of Jaina Proudmoore herself, who had led the Kirin Torr expedition three months ago. Sol had been up in that tree a long time. Her hair was stringy. Her eyes sagged with dehydration. Her robes, once pristine and crisp, were ripped in a few places as if she had endured a struggle. Something had indeed happened here. Something powerful enough to shake the Archmage and chase her to higher ground. 

"This land is alive," Sol said. "I came into this place with three dozen. Only nine are left!" Sol grabbed Pinter's shoulders, her eyes wild, boring straight through her. 

Pinter staggered back, but she held up the Archmage with gentle hands. "Calm down," she said, noting Anna's visible unease and the fact that Jarvus had reverted to Human form, as well. "Just tell us what happened." 

"They came at night," Sol said. "I tell you, they came straight from the trees, the vines, the bloody grass. They consumed us in our sleep. Put their roots in us, and I found them. All those roots. And we fled, but we couldn't run fast enough. I couldn't protect them. They took the survivors!" 

"Took them where?" Mandala asked without a shred of disdain. Pinter basked in the blue light of her eyes, and Sol calmed down when she finally looked at the Draenei paladin. 

"There's a cave," Sol said. "About a thousand yards that way." She pointed over Mandala's shoulder, up the path that snaked through the jungle. "I don't know what's happening to them, but you have to save them." 

"Then there's no time to lose," Pinter said, turning up the path. 

"Wait!" Sol said. "It's not that easy. Oh, dear." She put her hand on her forehead exasperated. 

"What is it?" Pinter asked, not sure if she wanted to know. 

"The power of the ancients will consume us all," Sol said. "And Azeroth is not safe. Stormwind will fall, and so will everything we hold dear back home." 

"What happened here?" Jarvus asked. "What were you doing?" 

"This land is magical," Sol said. "Make no mistake. It's a primal land, primordial, the most I've ever seen. If we could harness this land, we could see the essence of what makes us...us. We had to see it. We were so close. And we made a portal back to Stormwind to go straight to the Mage District." 

"You mean," Pinter began. 

Mandala stepped in to finish for her. "You let something through?" 

"Yalnu," Sol said. "An ancient of this wild land. And he's about to flatten Stormwind itself. I pray the mages who guarded the portal in Stormwind are still holding their own." 

Blood rushed to Pinter's head at the thought of her childhood home being razed to the ground by the primordial elements of an alien world. They had to act fast. "Mandala and Jarvus," she said. "Go find this cave. Save who you can. Anna and I will accompany the Archmage and clear a path to the portal." 

Jarvus fearfully took Anna's hand. Anna drew away, gingerly touching her brother's palm with a reassuring caress. "I'll be fine," Anna said, and she transformed into a silver Worgen woman. "I'll be with Pinter." 

"Come, Jarvus," Mandala said, plopping her plated hand on the druid's shoulder. "Let's save some lives." 

"When you find them, join up with us," Pinter said. "Our combined strength should be enough to destroy this Yalnu." 

"Yes," Sol said. She looked back and forth between the two groups, and Pinter saw how far the Archmage had fallen. Sol was a confident matron when they came to Draenor. Now she was desperate and rattled. She needed these four adventurers to maintain her sanity. It pained Pinter to witness what could happen to the strongest among them. "Yes," Sol said again with real optimism. "This should work. When we get there we'll all be able to smell the flowers." 

Pinter laughed, welcoming the upturn that Sol seemed to be taking. "Let's go, then," Pinter said. And they parted ways. 

* * * 

The humidity was so oppressive. Even in the darkest depths of the Wilds it felt like wading through a misty sheen, and it coated the insides of Pinter's lungs with every breath. They walked quietly, the three women, listening to the distant bird calls and chirps of insects going about their business someplace beneath the thick weeds that lined the walkways. Pinter did her best to hide her discomfort in the humidity, but then Anna coughed. 

"You could stay Human if you want," Pinter said. "All that hair must get frustrating." 

"It's not my coat," Anna said. "The air is so wretched to breathe here." 

"You'll be wise to remain in that form," Sol said. "There are more dangerous things than lashers waiting for us on the way." 

And with that the jungle sprang to life. A wave of little yellow lashers sprouted from the ground. Anna cursed the rotten luck, and Sol cried out in dismay, but Pinter stepped in front of them, raising her enormous bow. She rapidly loaded and fired, laying down a blanket of suppressive fire that stopped the lashers in their tracks. 

Behind them even more lashers sprouted from the ground. Behind those, three large humanoid bodies that looked more like walking vines than men dropped from the overhanging canopy. "Sol?" Pinter said. 

The Archmage broke from her dismay and joined Pinter, her hands cloudy now with swirling frost that flew ahead in a frozen wave. A thick wall of snow blocked the path. 

"Very well," Anna said, and with fluid ease the young woman transformed into a walking form of silver vines with a voluptuous feminine shape. She stepped close behind Pinter and Sol and spread her limbs. Little green mushrooms sprouted from the ground emitting a cloud of spores. As Pinter inhaled, the thick humidity in her lungs dried up, filling her with renewed energy. 

Vines poked through the frozen wall, crumbling it and ripping it apart. Pinter readied her bow as Sol called up a fireball that she held at the ready. "Here they come," Pinter said. "Be patient." 

The vines tore open a single path, and out poured the lashers. They were easily dispatched as Sol sent the fireball in a prolonged blast, burning everything that came through the breach. When the fire died there was nothing but charred plant remains in and around the hole. "That did it," Anna said. 

"Those druids," Sol said, and then the wall breach ripped open with what looked like groping green squid tentacles. The three green humanoids charged through the broken wall with their vine limbs reaching and grasping for Pinter and her friends. 

It was a struggle, but they managed. Pinter fired a series of distracting shots that disrupted the druids before they could cast any major spells. Sol blanketed the ground in frost, impeding their movement and keeping them at bay. Pinter had time to equip her explosive ammo, and she launched three arrows that burst in flames on the druids' legs. The druids howled in agony, but their vine limbs flailed wildly at the three women, trying to grab them in their last moments of life. Pinter ducked one of the vines only to feel another lash against her the back of her thigh. 

Pinter called out startled, but Anna cast a removal spell that sent the vine reeling back into the body of its owner like a retreating fishing line. Pinter stood, took stock of the burning druids, and fired one last explosive arrow that sent their adversaries flying in pieces. 

The frozen wall finally melted into the earth, and the women continued. More druids assailed them up the path, speaking with deep voices that resonated from someplace ancient, someplace that knew life long before Pinter or any of her mortal friends were even a possibility. The druids warned the three women not to proceed any further, that even the power of the Everbloom was not enough to control "him." 

When the last druid fell, Pinter turned to Sol. "Are they talking about Yalnu?" Pinter asked. 

"Unfortunately no," Sol said. 

They discovered who it was soon enough. 

A towering tree ancient much like the ones Pinter had hunted in Shadowmoon Valley stood next to a pond in a wide clearing. His limbs waved slowly, drawing out globules of water that moved to him and replenished him. The three women paused at what seemed like a safe distance, and Pinter whispered what sounded like a decent plan of attack. 

But the ancient turned around, his vacant eyes furrowing in a scowl at the sight of these little intruders. "Or we can just jump in and hope for the best," Pinter said, and she fired a series of shots. 

Sol set the ancient's limbs ablaze as Pinter walked backwards around the clearing, drawing him to her, firing at his eyes to slow him down and hopefully blind him. Anna sent a green cloud of spores over Pinter, and she knew no harm could come to her as long as the druid could maintain her spell. Pinter stopped backpedalling. She crouched, and she shot an incendiary arrow straight into the ancient's vacant left eye. 

The treetop exploded in burning chunks that rained down all around Pinter. She didn't flinch, keeping one more arrow aimed and ready. When the fire dissipated around the ancient, a heavy wave of frost overtook him. The ancient stopped in his tracks, his upper limb gone now, just a bald tree trunk on two massive legs. The insides of the ancient's body cracked and creaked as he froze, as Sol's spell worked completely through the wood and fiber. Pinter waited until Sol stopped casting. Then she fired. 

The ancient shattered. Only a mountain of frozen wood remained. 

"By the robes of Jaina," Sol said. "We killed it." 

"We've fought worse," Anna said as she reverted back to her Worgen form. 

"Where is the portal?" Pinter asked. 

"Up ahead," Sol said, walking to lead them. "But my campsite is on the way." 

"Good," Anna said. "We can rest a while and wait for the others." 

The women continued uncontested, the Wilds air itself somehow calmer and cleaner now that they had killed the ancient. They found the Kirin Torr campsite, pristine and intact. Pinter had expected it to be destroyed and razed the way Sol had described. "It's livable," Pinter said. 

"Don't go in the tents," Sol said. "You won't like what you see. Just stay out here with me and smell the flowers." 

Sol led Pinter and Anna to a line of red flowers on the edge of the campsite. The Archmage knelt close to the blossoms, big and brilliant like rhododendrons, and she breathed deep. She sighed. "This is indeed a magical place," Sol said. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 07



Pinter and Anna joined her. It really was a refreshing scent, something like roses and rainwater. All the tension and hardship of the day vanished as Pinter breathed the flowers, and she sat down next to Sol. Anna sat down, too, returning to her Worgen form. "They're lovely," Anna said. 

Pinter put her arm around Anna, not sure why she did so but wanting to all of a sudden. Anna inched closer to Pinter on the ground, right up next to the hunter, and nuzzled her. She was warm. Really warm. Pinter clutched Anna tighter, and she felt with her hand. She reached further around Anna, and there was the soft give of her breast. 

Anna didn't flinch. She moved so Pinter could have a better grip, and Pinter held her closer, holding Anna's breast, feeling for the peak. She found it as Anna gasped when Pinter rubbed her nipple through her top. Pinter locked on Anna's eyes, the young druid so wild now and warm in Pinter's arm. Pinter realized then just how similar Anna's eyes were to her hair, even as a Worgen, so hazel and almost as silver as her majestic coat and the radiant locks that fell down to her shoulders as a young woman. Anna grinned at Pinter as she kept rubbing her breast. She reached, touched Pinter's cheek. Pinter caressed Anna's muzzle, and she kissed her. Anna licked her lips. 

"Truly a magical place," Sol said. 

Pinter and Anna looked as Sol dropped her robes and stood before them naked. 

* * * 

Mandala and Jarvus stood over the entrance of the cave. The scent of sulfur wafted up to them, a stark contrast to the flora they had walked through all morning. This was more like the hot springs in western Gorgrond, not like the jungle of the Wilds. Nothing but silence greeted them as they stood at the entrance. Mandala didn't like it. 

"I guess we're going in anyway," Jarvus said. 

"Of course," Mandala said, and they descended. 

The sulfur smell was almost overpowering as they reached the bottom of the cave. In the dim light they saw the pool of water surrounded by rich calcium deposits. Mandala's eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and she made out more deposits on the wall. The closer she looked, she saw that these were a different color than the formations close to the water. She wondered what kind of mineral it was. Then one of them moved. 

"It's them!" she shouted to Jarvus. 

And then a noise like frying bacon tingled through the cave. Mandala looked up. 

Seven large spiders lowered from the ceiling on silken strands. "Get back!" she yelled. 

Jarvus quickly took his feral panther form and they jumped away just in time. The spiders landed on the cave floor, rearing back, brandishing their forward legs with loud hisses. 

Mandala was unphased. She already had her sword and shield ready, and she bellowed a war cry as her shield ricocheted back and forth between their attackers. 

Jarvus bounded ahead as Mandala hacked and chopped. One of the spiders sent a strand of silk around Mandala's arm, but Jarvus ripped it in half, pulling her free, and the Draenei plowed her sword into the spider's mandibles. The creature's head exploded in a cloud of black exoskeleton, bits of feelers, and green innards. It fell dead, and Mandala chopped down on the next spider's thorax. Jarvus raced around the cave, ripping away limbs, tearing down web strands that hit Mandala and slowed her down. Soon they stood in a ring of broken spiders. One more of the disgusting things lay on its back, five of its legs waving wildly in the air, the other three legs somewhere in the pile of severed bits. 

Mandala looked into Jarvus's yellow cat eyes. "Would you like the pleasure?" she asked. 

"I hate the taste of spider flesh," Jarvus said, and he pawed at his tongue comically. 

Manadala laughed. "Very well," she said, and she rammed the head of her axe shield into the stricken spider's exposed belly. Its legs tensed, and then slowly lowered to the ground. 

"Seems a bit easy," Jarvus said. 

A new, louder hiss drew their attention to the ceiling. 

Another spider, this one taking up nearly the entire top of the cave crawled above them. Mandala and Jarvus retreated as the massive creature dropped and landed on its legs with a loud crash. Huge fangs waved in the air, almost challenging them, taunting them to even try and fight it. 

Mandala looked the beast over. They could kill it, but it wouldn't be easy. As she stood there looking for a weakness, the spider turned around to the masses on the wall. It opened one of the silken pouches and uncovered a Human man wearing the robes of a Kirin Torr. Before they could react, the spider brought the screaming mage to its mouth and crunched into him, cutting off the horrible scream, sucking out the nourishing juices inside. 

"Good god!" Jarvus yelled. 

"We must save them," Mandala said, and she attacked. 

All they could do was duck waving legs for the first thirty seconds. The spider was so big that they ran through a forest of limbs that moved and stepped. Mandala finally swung at one of the legs, striking, but her sword bounced off the thick armor. The leg swung back, knocking her away, and the spider turned on her. 

Jarvus was there. He leapt for the spider's face, clawing wildly, savagely. He ripped something away in a cloud of black shards, and the spider hissed in pain, kicking its head, throwing Jarvus into the pool of water. 

Mandala was up. She dashed beneath the spider and ran the tip of her sword down the entire length of its belly, opening it up, showering in green blood that flowed forth. She jumped clean to safety behind the spider and turned around, smiling in triumph as the beast staggered on its legs. 

Jarvus jumped back in, splashing out of the water, grabbing the spider's face again with renewed frenzy. The red panther gripped with its forward paws and kicked with its back legs, growling loudly as the spider hissed and waved its arms desperately, trying to remove this thing that was killing it. Finally Jarvus twisted, and the head came loose. He fell to the floor with the giant spider head in his hold, and the body crashed dead and still. 

Mandala walked up as Jarvus threw the head away, reverting to Human form and running to the pool of water. He groaned in disgust as he scooped up handfuls of water, washing away all of the spider innards that covered him. "Damn...fucking...spiders!" Jarvus yelled. 

Mandala allowed a quiet laugh as the druid pulled off his spaulders and chest guard. He scooped up handfuls of water from the pool and splashed it all over himself, wetting his hair and his toned upper body. Mandala knew he fucked Pinter in Highmaul. Some things were so obvious she didn't need to be told. She wasn't angry at Pinter. Just two days ago she gave Jarvus a quick blowjob when he came to visit her on night patrol, although he was still a Human at the time. Hopefully she'd have a chance to get on all fours for him as a werewolf. Mandala enjoyed the sight while it was there, Jarvus on his knees and all wet. 

"Save yourselves," a tiny voice said on the wall. It was a Gnome. Mandala realized it came from one of the silk cases that lined the cave. 

She ran to the case, and she pulled with all her might on the fibrous sheet. She ripped it open, and there was the emaciated face of a captive Gnome. His eyes were saucers, and Mandala recoiled at the intensity. It wasn't just terror on that face. It was dread, deep and permeating. The Gnome knew nothing else as he stared through Mandala. "The flowers," the Gnome said. 

"It's okay," Mandala said, knowing it was a lie. "You're going to be all right." 

"Took us all," the Gnome said. "All of us. She smelled the flowers. Don't let her smell the flowers!" 

"What do you mean?" Jarvus asked. 

But the Gnome tensed, his eyes going even wider somehow, and his head fell forward. He was still. He was dead. 

Mandala stepped back. She couldn't stop staring at the dead Gnome. She looked over the other formations of silk that lined the wall. Each of them had been torn open. They were empty. This was the last one. "We were too late," Mandala said with growing horror. 

"What did he mean?" Jarvus asked. "She smelled the flowers. What did he mean by that?" 

"Didn't the Archmage say something about flowers?" Mandala asked. 

And then it hit them. 

"Go!" Mandala shouted, but Jarvus was already in daylight. 

* * * 

Sol moved slowly, gracefully in front of Pinter and Anna. She stood in front of them naked as they gazed at her like attentive pupils watching their mistress. Sol looked right at Pinter with sly encouragement. Pinter let go of Anna, crouched on her knees, moved closer to Sol who cocked her legs just a little. There was the apex of her labia, small and inviting, and Pinter reached out. 

Sol was slick with arousal. Pinter ran her index finger in the mound of skin. Her heart raced as Sol seemed to go slicker with every twist and turn of her finger. Sol moaned. Pinter worked her finger deeper in the folds that unraveled as she worked, and there was the little bump of Sol's clitoris. 

"Mm, yeah," Sol said softly. Pinter looked up at the Archmage, and she smiled down at the young hunter. Sol took the back of Pinter's head, gripping her lightly through her blond hair. She tugged just a little. 

But Pinter needed no persuasion. She rubbed Sol vigorously, her fingertip poked firmly on the nub that drove Sol wild, that made her breath go heavier. Pinter ducked down and looked up. She fit her mouth perfectly into Sol's crotch. She clutched the Archmage's ass with both of her hands. And she nestled her face against the wet pussy that waited for her. 

Pinter ate her like a maniac. Her tongue lapped furiously over Sol's lips, the sticky sweetness of arousal a wonderful mask that covered Pinter's mouth and cheeks. Pinter dove in. She planted herself. She whipped her head back and forth, only eating more eagerly when she sensed the Archmage stagger and grip the back of her head tight with both hands. 

Pinter vaguely felt hands on the waist of her leggings, hairy Worgen hands. She raised up and moved, and Anna undid the buttons on the front of her pants. Pinter wiggled her hips as Anna tugged the leggings down. She shifted her knees, and she raised her feet so Anna could pull the leggings over her boots. Hot, humid air clutched her exposed thighs and ass, and then Anna's hand slid between Pinter's legs, up to her crotch. 

She wasn't surprised to find that she was already soaking, the noise of Sol's moans and the feel of Anna undressing her driving her up to the edge. Anna's fingers poked around the tender innards of Pinter's vagina. Pinter's head swam, partly from the intensity of Anna's touch, partly from lack of air as she pursed her lips around Sol's clit, sucked it like a nipple, and flicked it with the tip of her tongue. Sol moaned even louder and pulled Pinter's hair. Her scalp burned, but she pressed her face in even deeper, knowing she was close. 

Pinter was close herself as Anna rubbed her like a pro. Pinter's breath came deeply. She dug her fingers into Sol's ass, and she groaned long and maddened, the spark of an orgasm stoked now between her own legs. Sol bent over Pinter. She jerked on her feet and cried out. Hot cum poured onto Pinter's face, and finally she came up for air just as she erupted. 

She nearly hauled Sol down to the ground as she held onto the Archmage's hips for dear life, as she bucked and vibrated with a rocking orgasm. Anna laughed as Pinter leaked on her hand. The Worgen girl kept rubbing Pinter as she came, and she stopped when Pinter let go of Sol and collapsed on her hands. Pinter caught her breath as the world returned to her. And she turned around. 

Anna was already naked. She was Worgen, but Pinter realized that Worgens maintained much of their humanity while transformed. Anna's silver hair shined in the jungle light, and her small breasts were perky with pink nipples. Anna grinned with her werewolf mouth and licked Pinter's juices from her fingers. Pinter went to her, and she took off her gloves as she closed in, tossing them aside in the Everbloom weeds. Pinter reached for Anna's long face, and she kissed her. Pinter's face was still slick with Sol's orgasm, and Anna ran her tongue over Pinter's mouth, tasting the Archmage. Pinter could taste her own cum on Anna's lips. She broke off the kiss, and she pushed Anna flat on her back. 

Anna yipped, but her legs were already up and around Pinter's head as she rubbed the Worgen's belly, stroking her silver coat. Pinter rubbed Anna's fleshy pussy with a long stroke up to her saturated slit. Anna hummed to herself in ecstasy and closed her eyes. Pinter spread her folds with two fingers, revealing Anna's fervent clit, and she licked her. Anna gasped. Pinter closed her mouth and sucked. Anna cried out. 

Anna's body heat flared as Pinter ate her, sending Pinter into a renewed frenzy. Anna was somehow brighter than Sol, like a refreshing drink of Draenic spring water. Pinter drank the druid girl in, lapping her up, poking her tongue inside her and grinning as Anna writhed in the dirt. Anna grit her teeth and revealed her Worgen fangs. Her brow furrowed, and she pressed Pinter's head in tight. 

Just then Pinter felt two hands run up and down her thighs. She spread her legs and raised up on her knees. The hands caressed the small of her back beneath her mail top that still clung to Pinter with a wonderful film of sweat that she didn't want to violate. One hand reached between Pinter's legs, and then two fingers poked inside her. Pinter moaned as they twisted around and wriggled. The other hand slid along her hips, straight down, and she gasped loud, sharp, and muffled in Anna's crotch as Sol poked a fingertip in her asshole. 

Pinter could barely think. Eating Anna didn't require much conscious thought as she steadily drove the Worgen closer and closer to orgasm, her fluids soaking the insides of her thighs and covering Pinter's face in a glorious blend with what remained of Sol. 

And Sol. The Archmage drove Pinter mad as she blasted Pinter's pussy with two fingers and dilated her asshole with her other hand. Then Sol took her hand away. Pinter almost broke off of Anna to beg for more, but then she screamed muffled into Anna's pussy as Sol put her face on Pinter's ass and licked her. 

Sol fucked her with her fingers and licked her asshole vigorously with her wet, wriggling tongue. Pinter's nerves were in a frenzy, and she burst with the overwhelming insanity of it all, howling into Anna with another orgasm. She pushed her hips against Sol's hand, against the Archmage's face, grinding out the tender flare that she couldn't get enough of, and she came up for air. Pinter rubbed Anna's clit with fast circular motions, not wanting to neglect the task at hand. 

Suddenly Anna reverted to Human form. In one quick transformation she was a young woman again, her silver hair splayed on the ground beneath her head, a thin tuft of silver pubic hair just above her dripping pussy. Her skin was the color of milk, and her nipples were dark red on her little tits. Anna's brow furrowed as Pinter rubbed her clit. Her face scrunched. Her thigh's retracted around Pinter's head. And then Anna popped. 

"Oh!" Pinter said in surprise, recoiling as Anna squirted. 

Just a little spray at first, but then a hefty shot nailed Pinter right in the cheek. Anna moaned loudly through her twisted, red face. She pressed her breasts tightly against each other as her cries echoed in the clearing. Pinter's hand was drenched with the ejaculation, and when the stream weakened and petered out she fell flat on her chest, watching Anna's inundated pussy, the leftovers of her cum still dribbling along the folds of her labia. Pinter licked her, the saltiness spreading across her tongue, and then Anna settled down, relaxing and loosening up in the afterglow of her orgasm. 

"Oh, fuck, that was so hot," Pinter said. "Did you see that, Sol?" 

Sol cried out in wild pleasure, moaning over and over in a mounting orgasm of her own. 

Pinter laughed, wondering how the Archmage could have gotten herself off with both hands occupied with her ass, and she looked back. 

"Holy shit!" Pinter yelled. 

Archmage Sol lifted in the air with vines wrapped around her arms and legs. They writhed around her waist, gripped at her breasts, and penetrated her crotch, fucking the Archmage like an eager lover. Two vines twisted around each other and went up Sol's vagina. Two more fucked her in the ass. The vines held Sol straight up and down. Sol's belly shook as she came, and a sappy green ooze leaked out of her orifices that Pinter realized was some sort of plant ejaculation. And then the lasher reared up behind Sol. 

It wasn't just a lasher. This was the biggest flower Pinter had ever seen, its blossom wide and yellow, opening like a mouth, towering over ten feet in the air. It didn't try to eat Sol. It just held her there and fucked her as the Archmage came loudly and wildly, grabbing the vines like the arms of a lover. Vines snaked across the ground, heading for Pinter and Anna. Pinter backed away quickly. Anna screamed in surprise as she finally saw. 

And the red flowers Sol showed them sprouted from the ground, an army of lashers that headed for them with waving vines and opening maws. "Don't run from them," Sol said breathlessly. "Smell the flowers. Be one with them." 

But Pinter wasn't having it. She scurried to her bow, found her quiver, and wheeled around. Anna took on her panther form, silver-furred and vicious, and she growled loudly at the little lashers that charged at them. "You can't fight them," Sol said. "Just..." 

Pinter shot down half of them. Anna ripped the rest of them to shreds. 

"No!" Sol screamed. 

Pinter lined up another shot that flew over Sol's head into the gaping yellow blossom behind her. Half of the flower ripped away. 

Anna flew through the air and latched onto what remained, mauling it viciously and deranged. Sol fell to the ground, and she looked back at the remains of her dead lover. 

"No," Sol cried. "What have you done? You...you..." She grabbed her head with both hands and doubled over, her face agonized and pained. "What did I do? The flowers. My friends. I...I did it." 

Pinter lowered her bow. She walked to Sol with her arm extended. "What happened here?" Pinter asked. "Tell me what happened and maybe we can..." 

Sol reared up with her hands extended to the heavens. "Fire!" Sol cried out. "Flames will destroy the vines. Cleansing flames to cure this land." 

Pinter jumped away as a fire ignited on Sol and spread suddenly, quickly in a ring. Anna's fur singed and she growled, but she leapt over the ring as it passed. Pinter timed it and jumped as another fire burst on Sol. Another ring spread, charring the ground in its wake. Pinter jumped this one and readied an arrow. "Kill her!" Pinter yelled. 

Anna looked at Pinter with a stunned expression even in her panther form. "Do what?" 

"Kill her now!" 

Sol ignited with another flame. Pinter fired the arrow. It burned up right before it struck the Archmage, but she was startled out of her spell casting. The flames died out. "Frost will kill the vines," Sol said as ice misted around her. "A freezing blight to cleanse the evil." 

Sol went blue with the cold. The ground churned frozen and cracked, and it roiled to Pinter like a living wave. "Kill her, Anna!" 

Anna finally snapped to. She leapt onto the Archmage, who screamed in pain. Sol waved her hand back at her attacker, and Anna rolled into the thick weeds across the clearing. 

Pinter fired. The arrow pierced Sol's shoulder. The Archmage cried in pain and loosed a frostbolt that Pinter dodged with a quick roll. 

Anna was already charging again. She knocked over Sol, pulled her to the ground. Sol exploded like a bomb, sending Anna flying again into an awkward crash. Anna scrambled to find her feet, twisting her head around, looking for Sol and any continued attack the Archmage might have had. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 07



Sol's hands glowed brightly with a conjuring blast of flame. Pinter was ready. She fired, and the flame vanished. Sol looked at her hands, and she screamed. Pinter's arrow pinned them together like a nail. And then Sol went silent. Pinter's next arrow pierced her temple. The Archmage fell dead to the ground. 

Anna left her panther form, returning to Human. "What happened to her?" 

"This place drove her mad," Pinter said. She stood over Sol, confirming that the Archmage was dead. Sol lay there with her eyes wide open, blood streaming from her nose. Pinter looked in her eyes for a long time, wondering how long the Archmage had waited for them and if it was her who had agreed to help the Highmaul Ogres ambush them in Nagrand. Or if it had been the land itself, and if Sol had become a slave to whatever it was that gave the Everbloom Wilds life. They would never know with Archmage Sol dead. Whatever the Kirin Torr had searched for was lost forever. 

"Pinter!" 

Mandala and Jarvus charged into the camp. Pinter shouldered her bow and held out her hands. "It's okay," Pinter said. "We're fine." 

Jarvus took Anna in a relieved embrace. Pinter and Mandala kissed quickly, and they dressed. "Where are the others?" Pinter asked. 

Mandala shook her head. Pinter bowed hers. "Let's find Yalnu then." 

They found the portal at the top of a hill and went through. Suddenly they were on a cliff overlooking Stormwind, back in Azeroth. A loud growl broke through the day, and down below a beast half man and half horse lumbered over a small field where twelve Stormwind mages held him at bay. 

The four adventurers joined the fight. The beast stunned half of the mages when it stomped its front hooves in the ground, but the adventurers fought on. Jarvus ran around the monster's feet and distracted him while Mandala leapt onto its back and climbed its neck. Anna cast healing spells over the field, bringing the mages back, refreshing Jarvus so he sped up and drew more of the monster's ire. Pinter killed a few lashers that sprang from the ground, and she equipped more explosive ammunition. She fired at the monster's face. 

The beast started at the explosions. Mandala had her chance. She reached the beast's chin, and she ran her sword across its throat. Mandala leapt off as it crashed sideways onto the ground. A shockwave spread through the clearing, down to the valley below, and it petered out on the walls of Stormwind. The beast was dead. 

"It's done," Pinter said. They went back through the portal, which the mages closed as soon as the adventurers were gone. 

* * * 

The bed creaked under Pinter as she sat down and undid the laces on her boots. Her feet sighed in relief as they breathed the air, and she curled her toes on the floor. Her room in the Talbuk never felt so safe and secure. She could stay here the rest of her life. Pinter never wanted to set foot in the Everbloom again. 

There were three quiet taps on the door. "Enter." 

Anna poked her head into the room. "May I?" she asked. 

"Please," Pinter said. 

Anna slipped through the door and latched it gingerly behind her. She stood sheepishly in place, rubbing her hands, barely making eye contact with Pinter. "How are you doing, Commander?" Anna asked. 

"Just call me Pinter." 

"Pinter," Anna said. "Are you...okay?" 

"I've seen some crazy things in Draenor, but today was pretty amazing," Pinter said. "Pretty amazing." 

"Amazing, yes," Anna said. "I've never...It was strange." 

"It was," Pinter said. 

"Strange, but wonderful," Anna said, and she laughed as she seemed to have admitted something to herself. "It was wonderful." 

"Indeed," Pinter said. 

Anna stepped forward as she finally found her strength. "I know you and Mandala are close," Anna said. "I know that you two, you know." 

"I'm pretty sure the entire garrison knows," Pinter said. 

"I was wondering," Anna said. "Do you think Mandala would mind if...you know...you and me..." 

"Do you want to sleep with me?" Pinter asked. 

Anna bit her lip. She nodded. "I would," Anna said. "If you think Mandala won't mind." 

A door across the room opened and Mandala walked out, naked, drying her hair with a long cloth. "If I don't mind what?" Mandala asked. 

Anna's jaw dropped open at the sight of the gorgeous, naked Draenei. She gaped at Mandala, who looked patiently at the star-crossed druid. 

"Anna wants to know if you'll be upset if she sleeps with me," Pinter said. 

"No," Mandala said. "Just as long as you don't leave me out." 

Anna was quiet a moment, and then she realized what Mandala said. She laughed. 

"Lock the door and come here," Pinter said. 

"And change into a Worgen," Mandala said as she tossed aside the cloth.



Commander Pinter Ch. 08



Soulbinder Nyamii descended the front steps of Auchindoun with a warm smile and even warmer open arms. "Commander Pinter," the Draenei priestess said as she took Pinter's hands and kissed her cheeks. "So wonderful to see you." 

"Of course I would come, Nyamii," Pinter said. "Anything the Exarchs need." 

Balthus, Voren, and Fitzlenoob stood behind Pinter on the steps. It was their first excursion as a true five-person group, and Pinter was eager to see how well they worked together since the debacle that was Highmaul. The newcomers had more than proven themselves completing a dozen hazardous mission throughout Draenor since joining Pinter's garrison. Today would be the real test. 

Mandala stood next to Pinter. She didn't like this. She hadn't liked it since the small, skittish messenger arrived at the Talbuk yesterday with news that Nyamii had uncovered the traitor within the ranks of the Exarchs. She took Pinter aside when the messenger retired to his room and told Pinter as much. "Remember Corneas," Mandala said. "Not all who claim to be allies are what they seem." 

Pinter had agreed. "But still," she said, "if it's a trap we'll be ready. And at least we'll find out who's the rat within the Exarchs." 

And that was that. Jarvus and Anna were investigating reports of a defeat in Spires of Arak, so the mission fell to the other newcomers. Now they greeted Soulbinder Nyamii on the steps of Auchindoun, ready to face whatever she had discovered and bring this evildoer to justice. 

Nyamii let go of Pinter's hands and smiled at Mandala. "The lovely Mandala," Nyamii said. "Truly you are the equal of Yrel." 

"Thank you," Mandala said. 

Nyamii recoiled a little at the terse reply, but she motioned for them to follow. Mandala never left Pinter's side as Nyamii led the way. They climbed the steps of the ancient temple of the Naruu, and they entered the cavernous, holy sanctums of Auchindoun. 

The atrium opened up as if lifting all who entered into the heavens themselves. The walls rose high overhead, arching into points high above, and white sheets of light glowed through the domes, penetrating as far down as the floor and illuminating the room as if a hundred fires burned. Pinter couldn't help but marvel at the amazing architecture, at the exotic yet perfect civilization the Draenei had built. They were beings of light, and all who entered this place knew what it meant to feel the light's embrace. Even Mandala couldn't take her eyes off the arch high above, gazing at it with a glorious sublimity that made Pinter laugh. Mandala grinned, and they continued after Nyamii. 

A group of three acolytes emerged from a doorway. Nyamii nodded at them, and they bowed before they walked on. Nyamii stopped and gathered the five adventurers to her. "There are too many ears out here," she said. "Best discuss this behind closed doors." 

Nyamii led them deeper in the temple, turning up a ringed corridor, not saying much as they walked. A few Draenei defenders lined the walls, and a few more acolytes passed them with expressionless greetings. Pinter wondered if emotions were forbidden in Auchindoun, but when she glanced at Mandala she noticed the paladin's hand gripping her sword hilt. A knot formed in Pinter's stomach. It was probably nothing, she knew, but even one word from the Draenei they passed would put her mind at ease. She remembered what she had said. If it was a trap, at least they'd know who the traitor was. Pinter drew her large bow and moved an inch closer to Mandala. 

"Straight through here," Nyamii said, pointing to the door at the end of the corridor. "The Western Transept. The acolytes are conducting a ritual, but when they finish we will have the room to ourselves." 

"Should we wait?" Pinter asked. "I don't want to disrespect anyone." 

"It will be fine," Nyamii said. "They won't even notice us." 

They walked through the open doorway where a large platform raised above the floor. Two groups of Draenei acolytes held up their hands and created glowing balls of light in the air, uttering some sort of prayer in Draenic that Pinter couldn't translate. Mandala could, and she knelt out of respect for the service the acolytes performed. 

"Alar il, Naruu," Mandala whispered as she bowed her head. "Kar il ruk belaros." 

Pinter put her hand on Mandala's heavy spaulder, seeming to understand what her friend had just uttered, letting her know that she was there and they would fight as one when the time came. 

"What is this?" Nyamii cried out in shock. 

The acolytes were glowing red. The light they created had gone the color of blood, and the room suddenly went dark as night. "With Ner'zhul's blessing," one of the acolytes said. "We call upon the Legion to destroy these pests!" 

"Fan out!" Pinter yelled, but the others were already taking positions. Mandala's sword and shield were in hand, and a six-armed demoness rushed ahead to join her as Fitzlenoob called out a summoning spell. 

"Light save us," Nyamii said. 

Pinter grabbed the Soulbinder and pushed her behind them. "We'll handle it," Pinter said. 

The balls of light took on humanoid shapes, and then two towering beasts with horned heads and stumpy limbs stood among the acolytes. The acolytes turned in unison to the five adventurers and pointed. The beasts attacked with a blood-curdling roar. 

Mandala was undaunted, as always. She roared back as a bubble of light appeared around her, and she knocked the first beast back with a single ram of her shield into its snout. The beast skidded across the platform, knocking down a group of acolytes like bowling pins. Purple fire rained on the prone beast as Fitzlenoob worked his magic. The monster's skin crackled and popped, and then Voren launched a huge fireball that struck and exploded. The beast flew apart, and the acolytes could only watch as Mandala joined the six-armed demoness fighting the other beast. 

Pinter moved in with a barrage of arrows to keep the acolytes at bay, striking down three of them before they could run for cover behind one of the pillars on the opposite side of the platform. Mandala ran in a circle around the second beast, keeping its attention, distracting it from the six-armed demoness who then laid into it with a flurry of sword blades. The beast howled in pain from a dozen cuts. Black ichor flowed from its hide, then another fireball flew forth, hitting it square in the forehead. All that was left of the creature was a pair of smoldering horns. 

"Come and fight us, cowards!" Pinter called out to the hiding acolytes. She stood in the open with her foot planted on the belly of one of their fallen comrades, and she pulled loose her arrow from the dead Draenei's neck. 

There was a moments' hesitation. Then the acolytes emerged with glowing red hands, combining their strength in a desperate act to summon another hell beast. 

Purple flame rained on them. Two of the acolytes rolled on the floor trying to smother themselves. Mandala threw her shield, and it ricocheted around them, knocking them to their knees in a dizzy haze. Voren spread a sheet of ice beneath their feet, and the six-armed demoness made short work of the stricken acolytes. 

"I didn't even have to heal anyone," Balthus said. 

The room brightened once again. Pinter looked with satisfaction at what the group had done in their first fight. They would be hard to beat when they found who was responsible for this. 

"Tell us what you know," Pinter said as she turned back to Nyamii. 

"More than you can imagine," Nyamii said. 

"Holy shit!" Fitzlenoob yelled, running away from the Soulbinder who had suddenly grown twenty feet tall. 

Nyamii was shrouded in shadow. Her eyes glowed bright yellow as she stared right at Pinter. Her hands swirled in front of her, conjuring some arcane spell that she was moments away from casting. "I knew you would make quick work of these peons," Nyamii said. "Now I can take what I want." 

"No!" Mandala shouted, but Nyamii unleashed her spell. 

A blast of light washed over Pinter. She went rigid and shook as her body went numb. The light released. Pinter collapsed in a motionless heap. And the world went black. 

* * * 

It was cold. And dark. Sheer stone bit her shins, and Pinter slowly came to. She was kneeling. And she was naked. Her entire body was exposed to the air, and she suppressed a shiver. Pinter tried to move, but her arms were raised above her head, her wrists shackled to either side. She was kneeling in the open, restrained, and naked. 

Pinter strained her ears to listen, to get some sense of her surroundings as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The chains on her arms rattled as she struggled to free herself, and her elbows ached from the prolonged suspension. She had been here for a while. She had no idea how long. The last thing Pinter remembered was Soulbinder Nyamii standing twenty feet tall with yellow eyes and knocking her senseless with some strange spell. She wondered if the others were all right. She had to find them. 

The cold air hit her with an unwanted caress, and her skin puckered in goose pimples, but there was a sensation she'd never felt before between her legs. Pinter cried out in surprise as something bulky contracted in her crotch, and a dull pain pierced her. Pinter looked down, trying to see in the darkness. She made out a shade, a shape, something between her legs. If only she could reach she could find out what it was and remove it. 

Sixteen torches on the walls suddenly ignited, and she had a look. Pinter was so stunned she couldn't even gasp in shock. 

A huge cock dangled between Pinter's legs. She leaned forward as far as she could to get a better look, and her eyes bugged in growing disbelief at what had somehow grown from her own body. It was easily twelve inches flaccid like a pendulum. The pain she had felt was the two enormous testicles that dangled in a scrotum like a sack of tangerines. Even as they contracted in the cold they were still there, large and slick. A network of veins ran along the fleshy organ, and she could feel the pulse of her heartbeat as blood coursed through as if proving to her beyond a doubt that it was indeed real. This cock was a part of her. She wanted to feel if everything else was still there, but the chains kept her arms in place above her head. Pinter struggled. It was no use. 

"No use trying for the impossible," a calm male voice said. 

Pinter froze. Hoofbeats approached her from behind. It wasn't Balthus. It was someone else. Someone not of this world, she realized, as a shiver ran down her spine. 

"You are here," the voice said. "And you're alive." 

"What have you done to me?" Pinter asked. "What's the meaning of this?" 

"An experiment from our Soulbinder," the voice said, now inches away. A shadow crouched behind her and she tensed. Two strong hands took her waist, not forceful but gentle. Gray humanoid fingers that ended in pointed nails ran up and down her sides, and as much as she wanted to fight, Pinter found herself unable to resist. The motion of those hands soothed her racing heart and sent a flutter through her belly. "I think it's already working." 

"What do you want?" Pinter asked, her voice barely a whisper now, but she knew exactly what this thing wanted. The hands caressed up and down her waist, over the notches of her ribcage. They reached just below her breasts, and Pinter gasped. 

A touch like that from Mandala would have moistened her in an instant, but something else happened. Pinter's belly fluttered again, and the sensation moved down her abdomen, over her womb, into her crotch. And she twitched. The dangling cock moved, and pressure built inside the organ. The creature squeezed Pinter's breasts, eliciting a moan from the bound hunter that was half in ecstasy as those gray fingers played with her nipples, half in amazement as the enormous cock now grew. It rose in the air, and it went erect. 

Pinter was massive. She had never taken a man this size, and it kept growing. Pinter breathed deeply as the cock expanded and rose to a forty-five degree angle with a powerful curve near its base. The head was so close to her she could put it in her mouth if she bent over. Pinter tried to bend over as the thought suddenly seemed all too perfect, but she was firmly restrained. Pinter whimpered. 

"Patience, mortal," the creature behind her said. "You will have your way. But first, I will have mine." 

"What are you..." Pinter began, and then she gasped again as something pressed against her ass. 

It was him. She expected something rough and painful thrust inside her, but to her amazement the creature was already lubricated. Something he generated on his own, she gathered, and then her thoughts vanished as the creature pushed his own erection into her anus. 

Pinter felt it slide in deep. She winced at the pressure, but her own cock flared. The creature planted every inch of himself in Pinter's ass. He held her just below her breasts, and she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. "Let's begin," he said. 

He pulled back. Pinter moaned loudly as her rectum closed on the void he created, and she lurched forward as he thrust into her again. He did it again. And again. It would have been painful with anyone else, but the natural lubricant on the creature's cock gave him slick entry. He didn't fuck her vigorously or violently. He just fucked her, and Pinter became aware of new points inside her body that the creature's erection found. Her anatomy had changed, she knew now, and this thing found the right pressure points, fucking her so it was just as much give as it was take. 

Pinter closed her eyes and breathed to the ceiling, going wild with the fuck. Then she opened them again and looked down. 

Her erection had grown. It was fatter, and it was dark red with so much blood filling it up. Pinter laughed as the creature rammed into her again and again, then her cock started to burn. It was wonderful, so hot, and she just wanted to grab it. She wanted to rub it, to masturbate herself and come all over herself. The creature sensed her renewed arousal and fucked her harder. 

Pinter's cock stretched, and her laughs turned into desperate cries. Her cock stretched to the point of almost breaking, like it was going to rip apart on the sides. The head grew fat and shiny. And it hurt. It hurt like nothing else. Pinter didn't want it to stop, but she knew she was close now. Just another few thrusts by that creature and she would come. Her cries were not from agony but from pleading, begging for this not to end but wanting it to so she could experience the alien peak of ejaculation. Her urethra dilated the size of a copper coin. Gooey, transparent pre-cum filled her now, leaking and dripping onto the floor. The creature was close, too. His breaths had turned to snorts as he fucked her ass, as he drove himself deeper, hitting Pinter's prostate and pushing her to the apex. Pinter wailed and felt tears leak from her eyes in a steady stream. This was so incredible. Just one more thrust. 

The creature wobbled and grunted. 

A rush of hot cum filled Pinter deep inside her ass. 

And she came. 

Pinter cried out long, her eyes trying to press tight, but she kept them open to witness the uncanny spew that came out. The muscles in Pinter's crotch worked. An audile splurt, and pure white semen shot in a long roping arc far across the room. Pinter groaned through the rush of her orgasm as more semen poured out of her cock, a steady, pulsating stream as her muscles worked to ejaculate. A puddle formed between her knees, what looked like a quart of semen that had come from somewhere inside her. Pinter's testicles ached from the effort, but just the thought that she had produced this sent her to a new peak of arousal. She wanted it again. She needed it again. She would have it again. 

The creature pulled out. Pinter's sphincter reacted involuntarily, and a pulse of cum oozed out of her anus, and she realized she was defecating. She didn't care. All she wanted was that amazing cock in her mouth. The creature caressed the back of Pinter's neck beneath her hair. And he leaned close. "I'll let you go now." 

Pinter's wrists were free. She planted her hands on the floor and crouched on all fours, stunned at her sudden freedom. "I'm free?" Pinter said as she caught her breath. 

"Of course," the creature said. "If you wish to leave. I don't think you will, though." 

She turned around. 

The creature was gone. 

Pinter looked ahead to a large double door at the far end of the room. She could find her gear. Find her bow. She could find the others and they could fight their way out of this place. She needed to find them. 

Her cock still ached. Pinter looked at it as she crouched, her head lowered, her hair curtaining her face. It waved there between her legs hard and strong. And it was so close to her. 

Pinter stroked the base of the erection, and she exhaled through gritted teeth as the sheer texture ran easily through her hand. Pinter sped up, feeling herself stretch once again in her hand, watching the head go shiny as her cock turned dark red. 

Pinter stroked herself quickly. She rose up on her knees to give her erection enough room to grow again, and she marveled at how big she was. A large drop of cum still stuck to the tip of her penis from her previous orgasm. Pinter sat down on her haunches, staring at her cock, wondering if she should do it. She wondered what she tasted like. Her cock was impossibly big, and all she had to do was lean over. Finally she did. She opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue. 

Pinter closed her lips around the head of her own cock, feeling the salty sweetness of her semen wash over her palate. She worked her tongue and swallowed the little bit, and she wanted more. Pinter lowered her head, taking more of herself into her mouth, and she raised with a long suck. Pinter stroked herself, and she rose up and down, up and down, sucking herself, moaning loudly as the pressure built once again. She understood now what the creature had meant. She was free to leave if she wanted to. But she didn't want to. Not when this cock of hers was so wonderful and inviting. 

Pinter's head swam as she sucked herself. She moaned as her testicles ached again, as her cock welled in her cheeks. She stroked herself more forcefully, remembering every blow job she had given, repeating the motions now but on herself. The familiar expansion happened as her cock grew fat on her tongue, and she furrowed her brow tight as she anticipated it, as she worked through her rising pleasure. Her breaths sped up. She panted loudly as she stroked and sucked herself. She slouched low as she surrendered, and she popped. 

Pinter opened her mouth as white hot cum flew all over her face. She kept stroking, and another shot hit her on the chin. She put her mouth back on the head and sucked, swallowing every drop that oozed out, lapping up the fluids that her body produced and trickled all over the rubbery, veiny shaft. She curled into a tight ball, and she fell on her side. And she kept sucking herself. 

She writhed on the ground, stroking and sucking, a prisoner to her own body. Pinter couldn't stop. This was something wholly new, and she had no control. She burst three more times, each time with an impossible new wave of cum that added to the glaze all over her face and neck, filling up her stomach as she swallowed the afterglow. Pinter had no idea how she could keep producing this much semen, but every time she ejaculated it was like she hadn't in weeks. She was a slave to herself, her body her restraint. She would never leave this room. She never wanted to. Not when she was like this. 

"Pinter," a voice whispered. 

She barely heard it, and it escaped her as she sucked herself to another orgasm. She swallowed the whole thing with the fat head of her glorious cock stuffed between her lips, the hot runny semen sliding down the back of her tongue and coursing down her throat. She swallowed it up greedily, and when she came up for air she licked away a tendril of semen between her bottom lip and the opening of her urethra. 




Commander Pinter Ch. 08



"Pinter," the voice whispered again. 

She paused. It was familiar somehow, but it couldn't be. She must be imagining things in this new prison. Pinter rolled onto her knees, resuming her original crouch, her face and neck dripping with her own cum, and she put her mouth on her cock one more time, sucking and stroking into a renewed frenzy. 

"Pinter, you have to stop." 

Pinter opened her eyes, and she did stop. She knew that voice. Pinter sat up straight, licking the fresh semen from her lips 

"Kerrak?" 

"Follow my voice, Pinter." 

"Where are you?" Pinter asked. She sat up, looking around the empty room. 

"Follow my voice," Kerrak said, "and come to me." 

"What are you doing here?" 

Silence was the only answer. Pinter wobbled to her feet and worked the feeling back into her jelly knees. She finally realized that she was caked in semen, and she grimaced a little as she wiped her neck with her hand. Nothing to do about it now. She would clean herself up later, and deal with this cock when she had a chance. Maybe Khadgar had a remedy. At least it was starting to go flaccid. 

"Stop wasting time, Pinter." 

"Where are you?" Pinter asked. 

"Get out of the room," Kerrak said. "They'll be coming for you." 

Pinter headed for the door. She was still naked, but this would have to do. She would hide as she needed. 

The heavy double doors creaked as she parted them. Pinter poked her head in the hall and found it empty. She closed the doors behind her with a cavernous thud that echoed up and down the hall. She squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth in frustration, but when she looked she found the hallway to be nothing but black haze. 

Everything had gone gaseous, misty, as if she had slipped between the fabric of corporeal and the nether. A gentle hiss followed Pinter wherever she walked, not quite in this world but not quite in the void behind what we see. The hallway still existed. Everything was where it should be, but Pinter wasn't. 

Three Draenei shapes rushed through her, not knocking her over but moving straight through her as if she were made of air. The Draenei continued up the hall without even turning back to notice her. 

Pinter stopped dead and stared at the Draenei as they ran away. 

"They can't see you," Kerrak said. "No one can." 

"Where am I?" 

"It's Auchindoun," Kerrak said. "Follow my voice, Pinter. We need you." 

Pinter ran. That was all she needed to hear. Pinter ran on feet that seemed to carry her like the wind of a storm, like the rushing gusts of Frostfire Ridge at the height of a biting blizzard. She flew past the three Draenei, and she entered a hallway that was filled with bodies. Pinter slowed, realizing she was looking at the Defenders who had guarded the halls of Auchindoun when she and the others had arrived. They were all dead now. Either they were victims of a grave betrayal at the hands of the Burning Legion, or they had all been in on whatever treachery Soubinder Nyamii was weaving and had paid the ultimate price. Either way, Pinter didn't see Mandala or the others among the dead. She didn't see Kerrak, either. If there was no body, nobody was dead. Pinter picked up her pace and flew like a gale burst. 

"Go to the sanctum," Kerrak said. 

Pinter seemed to know the way. She ran down a long, winding staircase, deep into the heart of Auchindoun. She ran past the hulking corpse of a demon the size of a Gnomish siege engine, and she found herself on the edge of a platform overlooking a deep pit. Discs floated in the air, just past the platform. 

"Jump, Pinter," Kerrak said. "You can make it." 

Pinter backed up a few steps, but she didn't need to. She flew with ease, like a bird, and she landed perfectly on the nearest disc that took off with her weight. Pinter stood still as the disc carried her deep into the pit, everything still hazy and misty as she plummeted further and further down past more platforms where what looked like dead Orcs lay with dead demon minions. So the Shadowmoon had indeed infiltrated Auchindoun. Khadgar's fears were correct. 

The disc slowed its descent and finally came to a rest against another platform, this one wide and oval shaped. Pinter jumped off, and she ducked a flying projectile that shot at her from the gaseous in-between. 

She looked up and realized it hadn't been meant for her, but rather for a shadow that darted back and forth in front of her. As she looked, Pinter made out a pair of ears that rose straight and tall from the humanoid's head. A calm voice with a thick Blood Elf accent spoke. 

"If she's going to show up she better do it now!" the Blood Elf said. 

"She's here," Kerrak said. 

Pinter saw her. Or she thought she did. She wasn't sure what she saw or what was happening. But the shape of a tall Orc woman stood twenty yards to Pinter's left, surrounded by an array of totems at her feet. The Orc held one hand up in the air and then pointed forward to what had to be a Tauren with long bull horns and a two-handed axe. The Tauren swung back and forth at another shape, a bulky Orc who had the long, curved horns of a ram on either side of his head. The Orc ducked the Tauren's attacks and then pushed him back with just a flick of his hand. 

The Tauren slid to the edge of the platform and caught himself on the railing with his axe handle, saving himself from falling over. 

A Pandaren male cowered on the opposite edge of the platform from Pinter. The body of a Goblin lay at her feet. 

"Do something!" the Blood Elf shouted, ducking and rolling as a hail of flames showered in his wake. 

"Pinter, now!" Kerrak called out. 

"What do I do?" Pinter asked. 

"Charge him!" Kerrak shouted. "He's defenseless to you!" 

"Who is he?" Pinter asked. 

"Just go!" 

A bolt of some arcane energy shot from the demonized Orc, racing towards what Pinter thought was Kerrak. The shaman ducked easily, but her totems vanished. She and her companions were vulnerable. 

Pinter charged. Her feet propelled her like a Frostsabre's legs, and she was on the demon Orc in moments. 

He truly wasn't ready. He had no idea anyone else was present, crying out surprised as Pinter punched him clean across the face, sending the Orc spinning with a spray of blood from his mouth made misty and black to Pinter's eyes. The Orc fell on his stomach and turned over on his hands. 

Pinter kicked him square in the face. One of his horns flew free. The other shattered from the impact. The Orc uttered a low and painful groan. Pinter's blood rose in fury, and she kicked him again and again. He wouldn't be getting back up. 

"Out of my way, whoever you are." 

Pinter stopped her attack and saw the Tauren warrior back from edge, his axe ready in both hands and raising high in the air. She stepped away, and the Tauren loomed over the helpless Orc. 

The Orc held up his hands in a final plea. "I can give you..." 

The Tauren chopped him in half with a single stroke. The Orc's hands went rigid, and then fell limp. "Shut up," the Tauren said. 

Pinter looked around the platform. All was black and hazy, but she saw enough. The Pandaren found his feet slowly, coming to grips with the fact that he had survived. The Orc woman who had to be Kerrak walked to the fallen Goblin and laid her hands on his forehead. There was a flash of light in the darkness, and the Goblin stirred. "Welcome back," Kerrak said. 

"I've truly never seen anything like this," the Blood Elf said, considering Pinter with his hands on his hips. He was nothing but a blur to Pinter, and she knew that she must look equally alien and distorted in return. The Blood Elf laughed, and he shook his head bewildered. "Thank you," he said. "Whoever you are." 

"You're welcome," Pinter said. 

"They can't hear you," Kerrak said, standing up from the Goblin. "And you don't have long. You'll be with your friends shortly." 

"No!" Pinter said. She ran across the platform to Kerrak, but she stopped dead as if snagged by a rope. 

"I'm sorry, Pinter," Kerrak said. "But thank you. Thank you for saving us." 

"No, Kerrak!" Pinter pleaded. "You can't go. I love you!" 

But the world vanished. All went black. 

* * * 

"Pinter?" 

Mandala's voice echoed in the darkness. 

"Pinter? Come back." 

Light crept through the periphery of Pinter's vision and her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Two blue spotlights shined in front of her, and Pinter focused on them, drawing herself to them, and as she fully opened her eyes she gazed upon the face of Mandala who smiled in relief. 

"Pinter!" Mandala exclaimed as she embraced her. 

"What happened?" Pinter asked, touching Mandala's arms but trying to break loose. "How long was I gone?" 

"You were unconscious for a few minutes," Voren said as he knelt beside her. "You missed most of the excitement." 

Mandala finally let Pinter go. "Unconscious?" Pinter asked. "You mean...I was here?" 

"Where else would you have been?" Balthus asked. The Draenei priest put his hand on Pinter's head, sending a soft glow throughout her body. 

The rejuvenation spread, and her mind opened up. She ran her hand down her belly, down to her crotch. Everything was back to normal. No cock. Just her vagina. Had she really been here the whole time? Was all of that a dream? 

"Nyamii locked us in this room after she knocked you out," Fitzlenoob said. "And she vanished. We thought you were dead because you had no vitals." 

"But Mandala wouldn't give up on you," Voren said. "She was by your side the whole time. The rest of us had a look, though." 

"A look?" Pinter asked. 

Balthus pointed to a window on the floor across the room. "There were Horde," he said. "Five of them, and they fought a fel-Orc down in the depths of Auchindoun." 

"It looked like they were done for, but then suddenly," Voren said, and he stopped to collect his thoughts. They still escaped him. "I can't explain it. He just fell down, and they killed him." 

"And when he died this entire place brightened," Fittzlenoob said. "It was like he was the source of all the darkness. And the doors flew open by themselves." 

They were indeed ajar. Pinter stood and walked to the window. Far down, just as they said, was the platform where she had joined Kerrak and the other shadows. There was the shattered body of the fel-Orc, two clean halves as the Tauren had made. There was no sign of the Horde adventurers. 

Mandala joined Pinter and touched the small of her back. "Are you okay?" Mandala asked. 

Pinter smiled weakly and put her arm around Mandala. "Yeah," Pinter said. "It's remarkable." 

Mandala nodded. Pinter knew she wouldn't prod. She picked up her bow and started walking for the door. 

"Where are you going?" Balthus asked. 

"Nyamii still lives?" Pinter said. "Then we kill her." 

The others paused for a moment, but they followed Pinter out of the room. 

They found Soulbinder Nyamii trying to rip a key chain from the belt of a dead Draenei acolyte. She cursed in loud frustration, and when she noticed the shadows surrounding her she looked up in surrender. 

"What do you say for yourself, traitor?" Mandala asked. Her sword rested beneath Nyamii's chin. 

Nyamii grinned. "I say," she said, "you are lucky I lost all my power." 

Mandala flicked her wrist. Nyamii bled out in seconds. 

* * * 

Pinter planted her head in front of the pillows. Her hands raced underneath and pulled mightily on the edge of the bed, and she cried out with spastic moans as the orgasm rocked her body. The cock kept pumping into her as her pussy clenched around it, as her knees buckled with the force of the fuck, and finally the thrusts broke down. He pumped one more time as deep inside as he could push, and he groaned loudly. He pulled out, and a pool of hot cum dribbled onto Pinter's back. 

Pinter caught her breath and lowered her ass. She breathed in the fresh scent of the bed sheets, and she looked out the window of her room in the Talbuk where the sky was full of nighttime stars. 

Voren lay down next to her, his arm draped over Pinter's shoulders, and he kissed the nape of her neck. 

Pinter slid from his embrace and put her feet on the floor, sitting up, spotting her pile of clothes. "You can sleep here tonight if you want," Pinter said. 

"Are you going?" Voren asked, rolling his naked Night Elf body on his side, revealing the toned muscles that Pinter had caressed and kissed just minutes ago. 

"Just a walk," Pinter said. "Don't follow me." 

"Okay," Voren said with some confusion, but he didn't stop Pinter as she cleaned up, dressed, and left. 

She was whole again. She was Pinter, and she was grounded in reality. As she passed Mandala's door she heard two sets of moans, one a Dwarf male, the other Mandala just as she started to come. Pinter went straight for Voren when they got home. Mandala didn't bat an eye. She valued the understanding they had. Mandala knew something inside Pinter was amiss, and she would let Pinter work it out on her own, however she needed to. And they would probably share a bed tomorrow night anyway. Tonight, though, Pinter needed to return to herself, and so Mandala let her have her space. She hadn't slept with a Dwarven defender in weeks, anyway, so she was overdue. Pinter needed a man tonight, and Voren was willing. She was back. She was home. But she was miles away. 

Pinter walked through her garrison as night rested calm and comforting over Shadowmoon Valley. Her mind raced. What had happened earlier, her transformation, the creature, her own weakness - it was all a dream. But Kerrak had been there. How had she found her? How did she know? Some weakness inside of Pinter, some desire that Nyamii had discovered and exploited. She was a prisoner to herself, to her love for Kerrak. To her desire. And yet Kerrak was the one who had saved her, and only out of sheer chance had she been there to break the enchantment. And Kerrak had needed saving, herself! 

Pinter stopped trying to understand everything and walked past her herb garden. She smiled at Fiona, and the Worgen gardener raised her ears and grinned back. Pinter walked past the opening of her mineshaft, and she went to the watch tower overlooking the coast. 

"Commander, ma'am," the Dwarf sentry said with a salute. 

Pinter returned the gesture. "Can you leave me a minute?" she asked. "I just want to smell the ocean." 

"Yes, ma'am," the sentry said, and Pinter leaned on the railing. 

The waves crashed gently on the rocks down below. Overhead, the enormous moon of Draenor hanged low, almost close enough to reach up and touch, to pluck from the sky, set in a ring, and give to some beloved. Kerrak had been so close! But now hundreds of miles separated them once again. Hundreds of miles and gods new how many Horde sentries who would have Pinter's head on a stick if she set foot in their territory. Pinter ran her hand over her head and listened to the waves crashing on the rocks. She thanked whatever deity saw fit to let chance work out the way it had. She prayed that the gravity that ran just below the surface of things was already working to bring herself and Kerrak together again, sometime when the time was right. She wished for the chance to touch her cheek, to hold her close, to listen to the Orc's heartbeat as they fell asleep. And she tossed a gold coin down to the surf as thanks to have her vagina back. 

She went to the stairwell and nodded at the Dwarf who returned to his post. As Pinter walked back to the Town Hall, two gryphons descended from the sky. She saw Jarvus and Anna, freshly returned from their scouting mission in Spires of Arak. 

"Pinter," Anna said as Jarvus helped the flight master leash the gryphons back to their post. "You're not going to believe who we found."



Commander Pinter Ch. 09



The garrison's wooden walls lined the hill like a crown. Watch posts on each corner held a commanding view of the forest, the approaching paths, and the ocean to the west. It was prime real estate in Spires of Arak, the perfect location to defend and hold against an onslaught of marauding Orcs or Ogres. It was the first Alliance foothold in Draenor, and you wouldn't know by looking at it that everyone inside was dead.

Pinter let her talbuk slow as if it sensed death from a quarter mile away. Mandala, Anna, and Jarvus slowed their talbuks, as well, and a chill overtook the valley as Admiral Taylor's garrison came full into view.

"We couldn't believe it, either," Anna said. "There it was, and there he was."

"Just as jovial as ever," Jarvus said. "Like in all the stories."

It was all they had talked about since returning from their scouting mission two nights ago. Admiral Taylor was dead. Every report had indicated so after an uprising sprouted within the walls of his garrison, as a small faction of his men mutinied, failed, but still managed to bring about the deaths of everyone inside the walls. Pinter's druid friends had been sent to search for clues of what happened. What they found instead was a garrison full of ghosts. Walking and talking ghosts, and Admiral Taylor was there leading them. Pinter and Mandala had to see for themselves.

"This will make the Southport memorial all the more interesting," Mandala said.

"He'll probably get a kick out of it," Pinter said.

And for some reason she felt no fear as the air chilled her to the bone. None of the other adventurers did, Pinter realized. Their talbuk mounts acted with animal sensitivity as they approached the dead garrison, a true animal reaction that rational beings would never fully understand. But the adventurers felt no fear. There was a presence, but it was a good presence. It was Admiral Taylor. He would never be tainted with evil, not even in death. Pinter smiled as she thought of him, and as they neared the gates of his garrison two transparent guards walked forward to greet them.

"Commander Pinter," one of the guards said with a bow of his ghost head. "Good to see you, ma'am."

"Is the Admiral waiting?" Pinter asked.

"Right this way."

The guards led the adventurers through the half-finished garrison. Soldiers teemed around the barracks. The barn was full of workers tending to equipment and bailing hay. A dozen Stormwind nags roamed the stable grounds, and the inn was a hotbed of activity with workers, civilians, and soldiers roaming in and out as they rested from their daily duties. The whole place was an efficient machine, and the only thing off about the picture was that everyone was dead. Every last person in Admiral Taylor's garrison was a ghost, but none of them seemed to care as they forever toiled at tasks that would remain unfinished. They worked as if their routines still mattered, as if the Alliance still called upon them and they would deliver. For some reason, it warmed Pinter's heart.

When she looked at Mandala on her talbuk, the same warmth was in the Draenei's smile.

Admiral Taylor's town hall was a shack compared to Pinter's back in Shadowmoon, and it broke her heart to wonder what greatness the whole of Draenor missed out on with the tragedy that had transpired here. Admiral Taylor was a born leader. He could unite, and he could guide the most rag-tag people through the darkest of days. His garrison was an unfinished stronghold, and the battle line against the Iron Horde was just a little weaker without the full might of Stormwind's most celebrated hero in the ranks.

They leashed their talbuks to a post at the door. The animals started and stomped in brief agitation, but a few soothing words from Mandala brought them under control. The guards showed them into the town hall, and Pinter's eyes adjusted to the light.

"Commander Pinter!" a familiar voice said.

She grinned, and there he was. Admiral Taylor. Just as proud, commanding, and boisterous as in life. Pinter laughed as the ghost of Admiral Taylor gripped her in a great bear hug. "It's marvelous to see you, sir," Pinter said.

"Me?" Admiral Taylor asked with a broad smile. "Look at you! You were just a pup when you crossed through the portal with us. Now look at you, Commander Pinter. Get a load of her, Mandala."

"She's come a long way," Mandala said.

"I had to see you for myself, Admiral, sir," Pinter said. "News of what happened here has spread, but to find out you're still...with us..."

"You think you're confused," Admiral Taylor said. "I'm the one who expected to be having drinks with great-grampa Alfonse while he shat all over my exploits and said the only good Orc is a dead one."

"Do you remember what happened?" Mandala asked. "Is the Alliance in danger?"

"There is no danger," Admiral Taylor said. "The uprising failed, but unfortunately everyone here was caught in the crossfire. I was the last to die, right over there." He pointed to the fireplace where a small blood stain was a monument to the fallen leader. "I never thought a Human blade would kill me, but how's that for irony?"

"So the uprising was contained?" Pinter asked.

"It's over with," Admiral Taylor said. "Ephial here saw to it."

Admiral Taylor pointed to a slick young man, an apparition who was handsome once but who was nothing more than a spirit now. He wore a black vest and black trousers, and a long dagger was sheathed on his waist. "Indeed," Ephial said. "Nobody escaped. Not while I still breathed."

"Singlehandedly blocked every avenue of escape and died bringing the last of those usurpers to justice," Admiral Taylor said with a hefty clap on the young man's back. "Just a shame we couldn't save the others."

"Where are the usurpers?" Pinter asked.

"Gone to answer for their sins, no doubt," Ephial said.

"There's been no sign of them," Admiral Taylor said. "Only those pure of heart have set foot inside these walls since the uprising. Just how I would have it. And you, Commander Pinter, are welcome here whenever you see fit to visit."

"I thank you," Pinter said.

"Perhaps you and your friends can help us with something while you are here, Commander," Ephial said. "Admiral Taylor is quite the diplomat, even in death."

"Anything you need," Pinter said.

"I was sent here to make headway with the Akkroans," Admiral Taylor said. "I did just that. We're expecting a delegation any minute, actually, if you would like to sit in and assist us."

"We're at your disposal," Pinter said, drawing eager grins from Anna and Jarvus.

"I will lend my blade to Admiral Taylor whenever called upon," Mandala said.

A horn sounded. Admiral Taylor and Ephial perked at the noise. "Right on time," Admiral Taylor said. "Let's meet our guests."

There were four riders. Three of them, by Pinter's understanding, were Akkroan, the little bird folk who once dominated this region but were felled by an uprising within their own ranks, much like what had happened to Admiral Taylor. They were short and squat on their tiny boar mounts, comical even as they bounced with the quick footsteps of their steeds. The Akkroan's bore bright red feathers and wore cloaks that covered their bodies, and they sat with a slouch that indicated a depth of wisdom far beyond the understanding of Human, Orc, or any other Azeroth race. They rode quick and steady on their boar mounts, but it was the rider atop the swift palomino that drew Pinter's attention.

It was a Draenei, a female, dressed in pale gray and blue robes that looked like the tribal gear of a shaman, but the enormous staff on her back gave away her standing as a mage. Her skin was a bright blue, nearly shimmering white in the daylight, and her horns had the same upward sweep as Mandala's, her hair the same shade of brown. Pinter turned to her paladin friend to ask in jest whether or not the two knew each other.

"Indrid!" Mandala cried out with a beaming smile, and she ran to meet the approaching delegation.

The Draenei mage reared up her palomino and descended in time to meet Mandala's charging embrace. They spun each other around with the love known only between sisters. "My little sister!" Indrid said. "You couldn't keep me away forever."

The Akkroans dismounted and moved past the jubilant Draenei women, heading for Admiral Taylor who extended his hand in greeting. "What are we without the sky?" the leading Akkroan asked in a raspy voice. He carried a rolled up scroll on his back like a warrior carrying a shield.

"It is good to see you again, Rukhmar," Admiral Taylor said, and he took the Akkroan's gnarly little hand in a friendly shake. "And I see you bring a guest that my Alliance friends are familiar with."

"Indrid comes with a task handed down by your King, Admiral Taylor," Rukhmar said.

"It's true," Indrid said, her voice a little higher than Mandala's but amplified equally wonderful by her accent. "I come with orders from Jaina Proudmoore, handed down by Varian Himself. I will bring you home, Admiral Taylor. You must come with me."

"But my business is here," Admiral Taylor said with a broad gesture around his dead garrison. "We are not yet finished with construction, and I just made headway with the Akkroans."

"You serve your people well in death," Rukhmar said. "But your time in this world is at an end. Your followers long for peace. You may grant them peace, and we will parlay with your successor."

"But who..." Admiral Taylor started, and then he looked at Pinter. He calmed, and he smiled warmly. "Of course. Commander Pinter, it would appear you are the new ambassador of the Alliance."

"This job gets more interesting every day," Pinter said.

"I have orders to bring you tonight," Indrid said. "But the Akkroans have something to say about that."

"Skyreach," Rukhmar said.

Anna looked around in confusion. "Skyreach?" she asked. "What's that? Some sort of crystal wonderland?"

"Not far off," Admiral Taylor said. "Skyreach is the throne of Akkroan culture, but since their downfall it has been overrun by the leadership of the __________. We had worked in close contact for weeks planning a raid to liberate Skyreach and return it to its rightful owners, but the insurrection here had other plans."

"Why not go with Indrid and we can take over from here?" Pinter asked.

"There is too much to know about Skyreach and those who defile it," Rukhmar said. "It would take even more weeks to prepare you."

"And time is something we don't have," Admiral Taylor said. "The _________ plan an offensive any day now to drive the Akkroans from Spires of Arak, and there are still the Shattered Hand Orcs to the north."

"But we killed Kargath in Highmaul," Jarvus said.

"They are out for blood," Admiral Taylor said. "They are weak, but the Shattered Hand always come to collect."

Mandala looked at her sister. "Are you willing to wait?" she asked. "It was never your strongest suit."

"Willing," Indrid said. "But not happy about it."

"And with you here, Commander, we just might be able to pull this off," Admiral Taylor said.

"We will gladly assist you," Pinter said. She turned to Rukhmar and knelt with her head bowed in gratitude. "My friends and I will provide whatever aid you need."

"Thank you," Rukhmar said as he reached into his robes with his gnarly hand. "You are as honorable and patient as the man who stands with us as a spirit. And as such, you are equally deserving of the same gift."

Rukhmar produced a small, shining rod, golden in the sun with a crease fully around its middle. The Akkroan offered it to Pinter. "What's this?" she asked.

"A seer's staff," Rukhmar said. "It is an honor to obtain one, and each holds a different function for those who possess it."

"It is an honor," Admiral Taylor said. "You truly are the Alliance's ambassador, Pinter."

Pinter turned the rod over in her hands. It was beautiful. "I don't know what to say," Pinter said.

"You will speak with your actions," Rukhmar said.

* * *

Pinter hanged her cloak in the wardrobe and sat on the edge of her bed. After dining in the town hall that evening they were granted rooms in Admiral Taylor's inn, the Ravager's Claw. Anna was quick to room with Jarvus, quick to give Pinter and Mandala their privacy, although neither of them would have minded rooming with the druid girl. She was a fun lay. Pinter still found it amusing how everyone respected the relationship she had with Mandala, as if part of being Commander was selecting a sidekick and lover. Pinter and Mandala were just friends, as they had established, but they enjoyed all the benefits of true coupling.

So it was Skyreach in the morning, and then Indrid would return to Azeroth to lay Admiral Taylor's spirit to some sort of rest only Jaina Proudmoore could provide. The speed of events from the last few weeks was finally catching up with Pinter. Highmaul toppled. The Everbloom sealed. Auchindoun cleansed. Tomorrow Skyreach would be liberated. Pinter wondered what danger would spring up next, if it was knocking Blackrock out of the war or finally spearheading back to Tanaan Jungle. This is how every Alliance hero had spent their time throughout history, and Pinter was realizing she was no different. Not even twenty years old and already Commander of Draenor, soon to be the Alliance's ambassador with Admiral Taylor's coming rest. She marveled at having come so far since that frozen day in Frostfire Ridge, since that incredible night with Kerrak. Again she thanked whatever force had brought her and the Orc shaman together, and she vowed to find her when all of this business was over.

The door opened and in walked Mandala drying her hair with a white towel.

"Is Indrid down for the night?" Pinter asked.

"She's still at the bar," Mandala said. "She's not happy, but at least we talked about Azuremyst Isle. Such a beautiful place. I'll take you there sometime."

"She seems a little uptight," Pinter said as Mandala set down her towel and removed her robe. Her naked, purple skin was a miracle as always. Pinter listened, but she could never take her eyes off of those perky breasts and that soft, strong ass.

"She is a stateswoman," Mandala said, tossing on a light shirt that she left unbuttoned. Her dark nipples slipped in and out of cover like playful children. "Indrid has to be in charge. Always has, always will."

Mandala sat down next to Pinter on the bed. There were two beds in the room, but Pinter was sure the other would see no use. "Have you figured out what that thing is for?" Mandala asked.

Pinter picked up the seer's rod from the nightstand. It was sleek and light in her hand. "Not yet," Pinter said as she turned it over. "I wonder if it's a time thing, like you have to wait a while to figure it out or something. Or maybe..."

Pinter touched something. She wasn't sure what, but suddenly the rod grew like it was spring activated. The two ends shot open twelve inches to either side, both ends curving upward at a slight angle, but it remained sleek and metallic. "What did you do?" Mandala asked, inching closer for a better look.

"I didn't do anything," Pinter said, and then the rod began to vibrate.

Mandala laughed. "What a silly thing," she said.

"I know," Pinter said. "What did Rukhmar say? Each one of these holds a different purpose for those who possess it?"

"I wonder what this one holds for you," Mandala said.

Pinter cradled the rod in her palm, holding it up for both of them to see. It vibrated with a quiet hum, but there were no clicks or rattles of inner workings. The rod vibrated by some unseen power. Whatever it was meant for, it worked specifically for Pinter.

As she held it, the vibration trailed into her wrist. Up her arm. To her elbow. There was something warm about it, something soothing even. Pinter smiled as the vibration ran up her bicep and into her armpit, and she shifted as it entered her chest. Her core lit up, and her nipples went erect.

"What was that?" Mandala asked.

"I don't know," Pinter said, and suddenly she went moist. She laughed.

"What's going on?" Mandala asked, inching even closer, her curiosity peaked at Pinter's animated reaction.

Pinter's breath had deepened and sped up. "I think I, um," she said, and she breathed to collect her thoughts that had gone frazzled. "I think I know what it's, um."

"Yes?" Mandala said.

Pinter put her hand flat on her belly and closed her eyes, breathing, feeling the vibration deep inside of her now. She absently worked the clasp of her pants, and she opened them. She slid them down past her hips, and she put the rod between her legs.

"Pinter!" Mandala said.

But she was gone. Pinter poked one of the upward curved ends against her clit, and she lit up with an aroused grin as the vibration intensified like a stoked fire. She writhed into a crouch on the bed, and she rotated the end against her clit. She moaned, and she laughed as the insides of her thighs went hot with vaginal juices, then cold as they chilled in the air. She worked the rod between her legs. She held it tightly, and she pressed it hard onto her sex.

The shock went straight up her belly. Pinter cried out loudly. She rotated the rod faster. Her brow furrowed. She bent over forward, put one hand flat on the bed, and masturbated herself as the intensity, the fire of her arousal peaked now. She rocked back and forth on her knees. The bed legs creaked. Her pants were piping hot around her feet, but she loved the security of it, the warm safety of this moment. Pinter was wild, and she held the vibrating tip of the rod firmly in place against her clit as one more wave of pleasure hit her. And she cried out again as she came.

Mandala touched Pinter's back, but she barely felt it. Her body rumbled with her orgasm, and she gripped the bed sheets tight, balling them up in a fist. Pinter fell on her forearm, and she caught her breath as her head cleared. So that's what it held for her.

"Pinter?" Mandala said as she gently stroked Pinter's back. "There are two ends."

She didn't think about it. Pinter took off her trousers and turned to face Mandala, who sat with her legs already spread open for her. The Draenei's cute little hairless pussy greeted her as always, and Pinter held the rod between them, angling herself, spreading her own legs as she sat back. Pinter placed her rod tip against her opening. It still vibrated, and the sensation sent a rush of blood to her head. Her ears rang as Mandala move closer, gently taking her end, placing it against her labia.

The Draenei tossed her head back and closed her eyes. "Oh, my," she said. "That's lovely."

"Mmhm," Pinter said. She waited for Mandala to position the rod, and then Pinter pressed.

Both women moaned as they penetrated themselves. Pinter held the rod as they pressed together, and when their crotches were nearly touching she let go. They were both on board. The vibration ran into Pinter's core again, up through her womb. She looked into Mandala's bright blue eyes, and they grinned at each other. Mandala giggled and bit her lip. She ran her hand up the back of Pinter's leg. Pinter put her hand on Mandala's hip. Both of them went serious, and they fucked each other.

They rocked slowly at first, moving their hips with careful precision as they worked the rod that was so deep inside them. They moved in synchronous rhythm as they knew each other. They had shared so many intimate moments together and understood each other's zones. They anticipated each other's needs.

Pinter kept her hand on Mandala's hip, reaching lower, grabbing the Draenei's beautiful ass. She felt behind her and rubbed the base of Mandala's tail. Mandala grit her teeth a little and sped up. They fucked each other, their own grinding and riding on the rod not only serving to peak themselves but to send the other higher and higher with a converse effect as the tips shifted and massaged their innards. Pinter sped up with faster pushes, watching her crotch as the rod shifted in and out of her just a little. Mandala's labia held the other end of the rod, the lips closed lovingly around the gold steel that penetrated deep inside her. Pinter glanced at her lover's eyes, and she was close. Mandala gritted her teeth even tighter, and Pinter pushed the rod into her as hard as she could. It only fueled Mandala's thrusts. Pinter felt the opposite effect, the deep grinding vibration inside her own pussy. Pinter sighed, sensing the home stretch. Mandala gripped her shoulder tightly, readying herself, and they fucked each other.




Commander Pinter Ch. 09



Pinter let go of Mandala's ass as she went wild, as she fucked the rod like it was a cock that would never pop and lose its strength before she had her fill. She put both hands behind her and leaned back, thrusting crazily, moaning loudly as Mandala let her go and leaned backward, as well. They bounced their hips. Pinter's mind went blank. She was right on her spot, and she burned with it. She called out again and again. Her mouth curled into an "O," and her stomach convulsed. Her pussy clenched around the rod, and she came.

She heard Mandala through her cries, coming with her, rocking her hips through their orgasms to work every last bit out of each other. Pinter fell on her elbows as a series of violent bucks shot up her body. She let go, fell on her back, and opened her eyes to the ceiling as she settled down.

The rod slid out of her as Mandala moved. The Draenei shifted, and she crawled above Pinter, holding the rod in one hand. It glistened with their juices, and Mandala sucked one of the ends, licking it clean, humming to herself as she did so. Pinter reached for her lover. Mandala set down the rod, and she kissed Pinter.

"I like this gift," Mandala whispered.

"Me, too," Pinter said, and their legs locked around each other, sticky with their cum. Their lovemaking was only just beginning.

* * *

Morning dawned gold in the east as the rising sun silhouetted the jagged mountains. From Pinter's window in the inn she could see a tall summit rising high above the others, far on the horizon. Mandala joined her at the window and gently put her arm around her. "Skyreach," she said.

Pinter nodded, and they dressed.

The day was still young when they embarked. Rukhan and his guards joined them, along with Admiral Taylor who rode his ghost steed. Pinter and Mandala rode in front of Anna and Jarvus, who were already in their Worgen forms. Indrid never let Admiral Taylor out of her sight, riding close to Ephial who had joined them as an extra sword.

There was something off-putting about Mandala's older sister. Pinter hadn't spoken to her since dinner the previous night, and she was already tightly wound. This morning, though, Indrid rode in silence even though Anna was a chatterbox of questions about their home world. What were things like in Stormwind? What were the new fashions coming out of the Trade District? Was Tapper McNabb still begging people for hamburgers? Indrid gave direct responses of little words, and Anna soon quieted, still chipper but turning her attention to her brother.

Even Mandala was quiet, although she rode close to her sister. Pinter sensed something between them, some sort of barrier that hadn't been there yesterday afternoon when the mage rode into Admiral Taylor's garrison. She couldn't put her finger on it, but when she glanced Indrid's direction she caught the Draenei scowling at her. Actually scowling! And Indrid quickly looked away.

Pinter's heart leapt and she looked at Mandala, who just rode with her gaze straight ahead, that stoic expression of the paladin calmly spread across her face. Pinter put it out of her mind, but that look just drove her mad. What had she done? Nothing! Pinter was half a mind to set things straight right then and there, but she respected Mandala's friendship too much to make anything dramatic.

They rode in silence for a few more miles. They passed through a canyon where wrecked mining equipment lined the walls and humanoid machines lay in the dust like broken siege engines. They followed a winding path up a hill, switching back again and again beneath the glaring Araki sun. And when they finally reached the pinnacle they stopped as a series of platforms extended through the air surrounded by pillars, topped with lenses, a true testimony to the majesty and might of the heavens.

"Skyreach," Rukhmar said.

They fought fast and viciously.

They were barely in the front gates when a mob of Akkroan zealots set upon them. Mandala went to work, drawing their aggression, tossing her hammer of light in the ground and bubbling herself to their attacks. Pinter watched as Indrid cast a combustion spell that spread among the enemy birds, and Jarvus and Admiral Taylor found openings to hack and slash with claw and sword respectively. Anna took the form of her beautiful silver vines, but her healing spells were hardly needed. Pinter fired a well aimed shot right down the open beak of one of their adversaries, and when he fell dead he exploded like an incendiary bomb. The blast stunned his comrades, giving Mandala the chance to cut them all down.

Pinter's band cleared the atrium all the way to a higher platform where a tall priest calling himself Ranjit waited for them. He called upon the winds, and the adventurers had to dodge arms of localized storms that rotated around the platform like clock hands. It was a hectic fight, but Mandala was able to wear him down, and finally Jarvus shattered the bird priest's beak with a heavy blow of his panther paw. Ranjit staggered about the platform with his wings over his face, and Pinter dropped him with a single shot through the head.

They fought a guard automaton that was identical to the ones they saw broken in the dust but easily three times the size. Mandala confused its targeting mechanisms as she ran through its legs over and over in a figure eight, and finally Indrid exploded its head with a powerful fireball. Half-melted metal gears showered down around the adventurers. Rukhan applauded. They were making incredible time.

A giant raven tried to burn them to ash with bird-shaped fire bombs, but they overwhelmed him, clipping his wing, sending him spiraling and broken down the edge of the mountain. They pushed their way through a swirling wind maze, and after dealing with another room full of crazed Akkroan priests they found themselves on the grand terrace of Skyreach where Rukhan pointed at a tall Akkroan on the far end.

"Vyrex," Rukhan called out in his raspy voice. "Your followers are dead. Leave this place to its rightful owners, and we may yet accept you as a friend."

Vyrex responded with a highly concentrated beam of light that Pinter only barely disengaged from. The fight was brutal, but eventually Admiral Taylor landed a heavy blow across the sage's wing, breaking her arm. Mandala was free to kill her however she saw fit. She handed Vyrex's head to Rukhman as a trophy.

"My thanks to you all," Rukhman said. "You have done my people a great service today. Skyreach will always be open to you."

"You generosity has been too much," Pinter said.

"And now, Admiral," Indrid said, shouldering her staff, "you will come with me."

"Oh, I don't think so," Admiral Taylor said.

Pinter meant to laugh, but a blinding white light overtook her. Vaguely she saw the shapes of her friends, of Indrid and Rukhmam in the light, staggering as they covered their faces and fought to see. Their forms faded, and everything was white, all around Pinter.

"Come, Pinter," Admiral Taylor said somewhere in the haze. "You are mine."

* * *

Mandala's ears filled with a deafening hiss as she crouched with her arm over her face. She winced in pain as the hiss bit her nerves, as it shot along her spine to the base of her neck. She nearly cried in pain, but then all was silent. She was on solid ground with grass beneath her feet. A cool breeze caressed her purple skin, and a flock of birds sang somewhere in the distance. Mandala uncovered her face and looked up.

It was Admiral Taylor's garrison where the ghosts went about their business. Mandala was surrounded by the other adventurers, Jarvus and Anna back in their Human forms, Indrid, Rukhman, and his followers nearby. Mandala looked around, and she stood quickly. "Pinter!"

The other adventurers broke their daze, and Indrid was on her feet fast. "Where is Admiral Taylor?" she asked.

"How did we get here?" Anna asked. "We're back in the Admiral's garrison."

"Some sort of magic," Rukhman said. "Something dark is at work here, something I did not see."

"We have to go back," Jarvus said.

"We don't even know what happened," Indrid said.

"Betrayal," Mandala said, her blood boiling with rage. "That dead man tricked us."

"Don't you dare speak of Admiral Taylor like that," Indrid said. "He was an honorable man."

"And he kidnapped Pinter," Mandala said. "She's in Skyreach. Don't tell me we spent all this time liberating it just to let some ghost take my friend and get away with it."

"Don't let your emotions take control," Indrid said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mandala asked.

"Even the lowest paladin knows," Indrid said. "You were always a little to rash to serve the Light. A little too passionate."

"I fear for my friend," Mandala said, squaring her shoulders and standing face to face with Indrid.

"Perhaps it is a little more than friendship," Indrid said with a cock of her head.

"You..."

A deep-throated horn sounded outside he garrison walls. Mandala and Indrid stood down and ran with the others to the nearest watch tower.

Fires burned in the forest. Gray shapes moved about in the tree line hauling flaming rocks, battering rams, siege equipment. They swarmed like dark insects gathering in preparation to overtake a stricken animal. There were so many of them, and Mandala made out long swords on their left hands. "The Shattered Hand," she said quietly.

"They mean to attack?" Anna asked.

A fiery rock launched from the forest and crashed into the open inside the garrison walls, spitting sparks and cinders as it crashed to a halt in front of the stables. The ghosts scattered in panic, the soldiers taking up their arms and readying for the coming assault.

"I think they mean to," Mandala said. Pinter would have to wait.

* * *

Pinter lay on the wide, circular bed in a sheer nightgown. She woke slowly, and she looked around the room. The last thing she remembered was Mandala handing Vyrex's head to Rukhman. Then Admiral Taylor blinded them. Now she was here. Outside the window the Araki summits stretched to the horizon. Golden ornamentation lined the ceiling in a shining trim, the same patterns and lines that she recalled from Skyreach. Instead of her adventuring gear she wore a sheer, see-through nightgown. Her undergarments we gone, her nipples red rumors beneath the fine fabric. She must still be in the Arakkoan sanctuary. She had to find the others.

The door to the chamber opened, and in walked Admiral Taylor. Pinter sat up defensively. He was still a ghost, but he had changed from his military garb to the proper dress clothes of nobility. Admiral Taylor crossed the room the bed where Pinter curled her legs underneath her.

"Where are the others?" Pinter asked.

"They are safe," Admiral Taylor said. "They are gone."

He sat down on the bed and reclined next to her. Pinter inched away, but Admiral Taylor put his arm around her, keeping her close. "Skyreach is ours," Admiral Taylor said. "I was only waiting to clear it. Now it is mine, and you are with me. The greatest palace in all of Draenor belongs to us. The sky belongs to us, and we will belong to each other."

"What are you talking about?" Pinter asked, but Admiral Taylor kissed her. He was solid, and his lips were warm, pleasant. His kiss was delicate, and if it weren't for the circumstances and the sudden turn of events Pinter would have gladly given in. As it was, the kiss fumbled along awkwardly until Admiral Taylor gave up and broke off.

"Your resist me now," Admiral Taylor said. "Soon you will see. We are together, and we have all of eternity to love each other. This is our home now. You will love me for all I have given you."

Admiral Taylor put his hand on Pinter's chest. She recoiled, but he held her shoulder. He put his hand down her belly, down her abdomen, and he slipped his fingers between her legs. He clutched her through the nightgown, and surprisingly Pinter found herself go wet. Admiral Taylor felt it, and he grinned.

Pinter's heart beat a little faster. An eternity to love each other, she thought, but in the meantime she could try to figure out a way to get out of here. First things first, though, she didn't have much of a choice over what was about to happen. Pinter took the back of Admiral Taylor's head and kissed him. He twisted his finger in her crotch. Pinter gasped and opened her legs. Might as well enjoy this before getting down to business.



Commander Pinter Ch. 10



"Roll the wagons in front of the gates!" Mandala called down to Jarvus. The red Worgen druid was already in bear form, galloping towards the supply wagons at the stables. "Anything that will barricade them, hold them off for a little while, anything! If we bottleneck them here we'll have a chance."

Mandala pointed at Anna, who had already transformed into the voluptuous, humanoid mass of silver vines. "Be ready with your heals," Mandala said. "This will be a lot to handle."

"I'll wait until they're inside before I cast Time Warp," Indrid said. Mandala's sister Draenei walked at her side as they descended into Admiral Taylor's garrison. She threw her hands over her head, and Mandala felt a rush of blood surge through her core. An arcane symbol like an intricate eye flashed and vanished in her vision.

"There won't be much need until they're inside anyway," Mandala said. "Thanks for the buff."

"My pleasure," Indrid said.

The subject of their earlier conversation was still fresh in Mandala's mind, but this was hardly the time to debate the pros and cons of her relationship with Pinter. The Shattered Hand Orcs were reeling without their leader Kargath, who Pinter and Jarvus had killed in Highmaul. They were headless, leaderless, but they had the ferocity of a mortally wounded tiger. These Orcs wouldn't go quietly. And Pinter was still in Skyreach. Mandala would survive this with her friends, with her sister, and they would find out what evil force had driven them all apart. And then she and Indrid could discuss whose business it was who Mandala chose to sleep with.

"You're going to let them inside the garrison?" Anna asked, the childish disbelief so aching to Mandala's experienced eyes.

"They'll be inside regardless of what we do," Mandala said. "It's a matter of how many are still alive, both us and them. Be ready with those heals when I tell you."

"Yes, Mandala," Anna said. A cloud of green spores flickered around her as she cast a few buffs to get herself ready.

Jarvus roared as he pushed two wagons back to back up to the garrison gate. They thudded into place just as something enormous and heavy crashed against the wooden framework. The wall shook all along its length, but it held. "I need another one now," Jarvus roared.

"On our way, sir!"

A company of Stormshield soldiers jogged out of the barracks, armed and ready to fight. They were a sight to behold, truly a group of pure servants of the Alliance. The only thing startling about them was that they were ghosts, one and all, like the rest of Admiral Taylor's garrison in Spires of Arak. To see these young men and women still bound to their duty even in death raised Mandala's courage made her stand a little straighter. Even Indrid laughed at the sight.

The soldiers took two more supply wagons from the stables and pushed with all their might. "Come on, you apes!" a burly, translucent sergeant yelled at them as they trudged and plodded their way through the thin mud. "These adventurers want to live forever!"

With a few "heave-ho's" the soldiers pushed the wagons firmly in place next to the ones Jarvus had positioned. Another crash rang out, and the walls shook again.

"That should do it," Indrid said.

"For now," Mandala said. She motioned for the sergeant. "Do you have fire? Anything we can pour onto those monsters?"

"Down the mines, ma'am," the sergeant said. "Opened up the beginning of a nice slagworks that could've lasted a hundred years with a little upkeep."

"It still burns?" Mandala asked.

"Aye, ma'am."

"Take your soldiers," Mandala said. "Start a line from here to the mine. We'll burn these Orcs with buckets of burning earth."

"Aye, ma'am!" the sergeant said, the excitement dancing all over his face. Anna giggled as he ran off barking orders at his ghost soldiers, organizing the assembly line like a regular veteran. Mandala wondered what greatness Admiral Taylor could have accomplished here had he not been the victim of mutiny.

The garrison gate crashed and rumbled again and again. But it held. The angered growls and snarls of Orcs careened through the afternoon. Mandala wondered how many were out there now. One hundred? One thousand? How many Shattered Hand remained, not yet ready to abandon their clan even though their fanatic leader was dead? Every remaining Shattered Hand was probably present, and there was only one way out of this.

Reshad paced back and forth, shaking his bird head side to side in disbelief at the strange turn of events since they lost Pinter in Skyreach not fifteen minutes ago. They had secured the glorious haven of his people. It was his to return! Now they fought for their lives back where they had started this morning, and gods knew what had driven them so far away. "Not what he foresaw," Reshad muttered in his raspy voice. "Not what we intended."

He was useless. It wasn't his fault, but he had no business being in the open with the fighters. Reshad was a statesman, a diplomat, not a warrior. Mandala went to the little bird man and put her arm around his shoulder. "Find shelter, Scrollkeeper," she said. "Find as many as you can and take them with you. Go to the basement of the town hall. Keep them safe and secure."

Reshad looked at her quickly. He cocked his head, and his eyes blinked quickly. He nodded. "Yes," Reshad said. "Better that they are safe."

The bird man waddled off at a brisk pace for his kind, his guards never leaving his sides. Mandala watched as he rounded up the straggler townsfolk and directed them to the open town hall. She wasn't sure if the ghosts in Admiral Taylor's garrison could even be harmed by the Shattered Hand Orcs. But they needed fighters, not people who would get in the way. Better for them all to be out of sight at a time like this.

The sergeant returned with his troops forming a long line stretching back to the mine. Iron buckets of molten rock were already being passed up the line. The soldiers climbed the parapet, and two brave souls stood at the top ready to cast their payload down on the Shattered Hand Orcs below.

"Ready to deliver, ma'am," the sergeant said.

"Let it rain," Mandala said.

A cacophonous chorus of agonized howls erupted outside the garrison gate. The soldiers on the parapet dumped bucket after bucket onto the Orcs, and the steady train never faltered as more molten earth made its way up the line. Empty buckets returned to the source, and the sergeant just barked at his company. Mandala marveled, just as she had been doing since arriving in Admiral Taylor's garrison. True servants of the Alliance. True defenders of Azeroth.

Through it all, though, the crashing at the gate never ceased. The Orcs were determined. Even with their thinning ranks they kept up the effort, and mixed in with the screams of dying and wounded were the unfettered battle cries of berserker Orcs. They would not stop until they were through. And they would be through soon. Mandala had no doubt.

Another crash rocked the gate. The barricade wagons moved in the dirt, just a little. Jarvus and a few free ghost soldiers rushed to add their weight, but another crash hit them. One of the wagons against the gate itself cracked along its middle. "Hold the line," Jarvus roared.

"Hold the line, laddies," the sergeant echoed.

"We'll be fine as long as we keep up that rain of fire," Indrid said.

"How much longer, though?" Mandala asked. "We don't even know if..."

A high-pitched scream ripped through the heart of all inside the garrison. Mandala looked to see one of the ghost soldiers on the parapet igniting in flames. He dropped his iron bucket, which spilled molten rock on the platform, igniting the wood quickly.

"How did they do that?" Anna asked as she planted a ring of green mushrooms around her feet.

"I don't want to know," Mandala said. "Get ready! They're coming through!"

Jarvus and the soldiers scattered away from the wagons. They formed a battle line with Mandala and the sergeant at the front. Jarvus took his red panther form, ready to deliver as much mayhem to the oncoming Orcs as he could manage. Indrid and Anna stood in the rear, Indrid's hands already conjuring some fiery hell for their assailants, Anna building up a green cloud of spores to send to whoever needed them.

Crash! The wagons pushed two feet into the garrison.

"We want your Commander!" an Orc yelled outside.

Crash! The wagons pushed two more feet.

"We want the hunter! The girl who killed our Chieftain!"

Crash! The broken wagon splintered and crumbled. The sharpened head of a battering ram stuck through the cracked garrison gate.

"Come and take us, you beasts!" Mandala challenged. "You can take our lives, but you will not have Commander Pinter!"

"I don't want them to take my life," Anna said.

"None of you will fall, lass," the sergeant said. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

One more crash, and the wagons parted.

An ocean of gray Orcs poured into Admiral Taylor's garrison.

Indrid pushed her hands forward with a swirl of fire at her feet. A massive, flaming rock fell from the sky, and when it impacted with a cindery blow it sent a dozen bodies flying through the air. Flame spread through the Orc ranks, and all who had entered the garrison were dead.

But there were more behind. They wouldn't stop until they were all dead, or until they found what they had come for. What they came for wasn't here, Mandala knew, which meant only one thing. She threw her shield, ricocheting it around the front ranks of Shattered Hand Orcs, and she joined the fight.

They held their own. They held on for a long time. The Orcs were so crazed in their determination that they fought blindly, leaderless, inefficiently. Mandala in her first onslaught cut down six before Jarvus joined her. Indrid ignited one of the Orcs with a scorching blow, and flame skipped from Orc to Orc in the melee. That slowed them down. Admiral Taylor's ghost soldiers joined the fray, adding to the ferocity that Mandala and Jarvus already wrought upon their enemies. Soon the ground was covered in gray bodies, but for every Orc they killed it seemed that five more poured through the gates.

Mandala threw a hammer of light into the ground, its sparks rippling through the gray Orcs, combining with the lingering effect of Indrid's spell. Jarvus ripped open an Orc from neck to belly, and in the fighter's moment of death he exploded in fire, burning the six Orcs around him, scattering them like uncovered cockroaches fleeing daylight. A squad of Admiral Taylor's soldiers rushed to plug the gap, denying the Shattered Hand their lost foothold.

Suddenly one of the garrison soldiers burst into flames, sending a piercing scream through the air. The soldiers around him backed away, retreating, and Mandala caught a glimpse of the poor soul in his moment of suffering. His incorporeal self seemed to flake away in ash until just the outline of a skeleton remained, and then that vanished in a cloud of material as the fire put itself out. All the while the soldier screamed. Mandala and the others watched it happen.

Some of the Shattered Hand Orcs carried torches that glowed with green flame. Mandala realized this was some sort of enchantment that let them incinerate the ghost soldiers, so that they weren't entirely immune. The sergeant barked more orders, closing up his ranks, but then three more of them burst into flames. They were dropping fast now. It wouldn't be long.

"Fall back to the town hall!" Mandala shouted.

"Are you sure?" Indrid asked.

"Just go!" Mandala said. "We'll figure it out from there."

Indrid rushed ahead, drawing what sounded like a thousand gallons of air into her lungs, and as Mandala and Jarvus rushed past her she exhaled. Fire engulfed the Orcs, driving them back, and when she was exhausted she followed her sister and the adventurers back to the town hall. She had bought just enough. Anna slammed closed the thick doors, and Jarvus dropped the wooden bar, holding them shut. They caught their breath, and Mandala took stock of who remained.

Indrid was there, and Anna and Jarvus. The sergeant was there, as well, but the full might of his company had been reduced to sixteen soldiers. Mandala hadn't realized so many had given their all.

"It's not much," Jarvus said as he changed back into Worgen form. The silver-haired Anna stood next to him. "It's not enough."

"Not if we want to get out of here alive," Indrid said.

Mandala snuck a peak out of one of the windows, covered with bars from the outside. The Shattered Hand Orcs were ignoring the other structures, focusing instead on the town hall. They knew where everyone was hiding.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the sergeant said. "We failed you."

"No," Mandala said. She turned to him with a warm smile. "You fought bravely. It's all I could have asked for."

"What do we do, Mandala?" Anna asked. Her ears perked and drooped over and over in agitation. Jarvus scratched the back of her neck with his hand, but his own ears betrayed his growing anxiety.

"Can you drop an area of effect outside the doors?" Mandala asked Indrid.

Her sister shook her head. "I have to see the ground," Indrid said.

"We could let them in," Jarvus said.

"And we would die in seconds," Indrid said. "My spells have cooldowns. We wouldn't last long enough for me to cast them more than once."

"Then what do we do?" Jarvus asked irritated. "Either we let them in now or wait until they break the doors down and kill us."

"We wait," Mandala said.

"Just prolong the inevitable?" Jarvus asked.

"To make a plan," Mandala said.

"What plan?" Indrid asked. "The druid is right. We have two options and neither one results in us surviving."

"There is always a way," Mandala said. "This group. I can't explain it. Something watches over us, and there is always a way. We will make it through. We always do."

"It better happen soon," Jarvus said.

"Give us time," Mandala said.

"It's running out," Indrid said.

"When will we see it?" Jarvus asked.

"I don't know," Mandala said.

"Who is coming for us?" Indrid asked.

"I don't know!"

"Look," Anna said, pointing behind them all. They turned.

The townsfolk were emerging from the basement, led by Reshad and his guards.

"What are you doing?" Mandala asked, rushing to stop them. "You don't belong up here."

"I could not stop them," Reshad said. "They want to be here."

Mandala wanted to urge them back, to push them back to safety, but she held herself. She had seen this before, a group of ordinary people banding together for the sake of their home, for the existence of something higher than themselves that they all believed in. The Iron Horde had invaded Pinter's garrison, and the townsfolk had all joined in driving them out. They didn't need to. They wanted to. It was just as much their fight as any defender's, as much as Mandala's, as much as Pinter's. This fight today, it belonged to the townsfolk. It was time to let them join in.

Mandala nodded. Indrid felt it, too, and she joined Mandala as the room filled with a hundred ghosts all ready to fight with whatever they had. "This might work," Indrid said.

"It will," Mandala said.

"Maybe," the sergeant said with regenerating enthusiasm. "Just maybe."

In a few seconds they were positioned. Two of the ghost soldiers were ready on the door stop, ready to pull it away. They waited for Mandala's command. She nodded quietly.

The Shattered Hand roared through the unbarred doors.

And then they ran for their lives.

Indrid launched a flaming rock that devastated their ranks. If they had opened the doors earlier it would have been far too little. They would have all died before any of her spells were ready for casting. Now, however, the townsfolk were with them, clawing and gnashing with just as much rage as Jarvus in his panther form. Anna sent wave after wave of green spores over the garrison fighters. Indrid sent three fireballs racing into three different Orcs who exploded as living bombs, scorching all the Orcs around them, and Mandala led the charge. She planted her sword in the spine of the last stricken Shattered Hand Orc, and she looked around the garrison.

Gray bodies littered the ground, but there was no sign of the people they had lost. Mandala didn't want to imagine what realm their souls had departed for, something farther beyond death, or some plane in between worlds that none could escape. It didn't matter now. None of the Shattered Hand had survived. It was over. They had won.

Jarvus and Anna returned to their Human forms. Anna wiped a bit of blood away from Jarvus's nose with sisterly love. Indrid wrapped Mandala's forearm with a bandage, covering a slash she had totally missed in the intensity of combat. They all looked back at the townsfolk who waited patiently for their next orders, for whatever these four brave adventurers commanded for the benefit of Admiral Taylor's garrison, this home that each and every one of them loved more than anything.

"Wait here," Mandala said to the townsfolk. "We have friends to save."

* * *

Pinter clenched her teeth and closed her eyes tight, balling the bedspread in two fists as she dug her elbows into the mattress. She moaned as her body shook with Admiral Taylor's steady thrusts behind her, but very little of it was from pleasure. All ten inches of his cock were planted firmly inside her, his erection working in and out just a little with his effort, all that his speed and Pinter's tightness would allow. Any other situation on all fours like this and Pinter would have been wild with an orgasm by now. She was far from it. Her ass burned from Admiral Taylor's dogged, unrelenting fuck.

They had started out pleasantly enough. Pinter let the ghost of Admiral Taylor undress her and suck her nipples for a while as he rubbed her clit, enticing her to an early come. She then returned the favor by trying out oral on a ghost. He was there. He was solid. Not fleshy but still slick in a strange way that peaked Pinter's interest, his welling arousal driving her on to see what his climax was like. She let him go right before he came, unsure how he would taste if anything even ejaculated from his erection. Something had shot her in the face, something that smelled salty sweet like cotton candy and trickled warmly down the side of her nose. She rubbed out a few more spurts and dove in, sucking what remained on the tip of his head. It was delicious. Pinter cleaned him up with her tongue.

They fucked missionary for a long time before Taylor fell on his side, lifting Pinter with him, and they fucked some more that way, Admiral Taylor holding Pinter and driving up and into her as they lay there with each other. The sensation was wholly different from anything physical, still physical in the sense that Pinter was actually having sex with a ghost, but someplace in between as Admiral Taylor wasn't really there. It was as if she were being fucked by his soul, a manifestation of his will that remained in this world and occupied some sort of cavity that he had vacated in death. Pinter hadn't arrived in Spires of Arak with intentions of taking Admiral Taylor to bed, but just as she had realized at the outset of this little escapade she didn't have much choice given her current predicament.

And she couldn't deny that she had masturbated to Admiral Taylor once or twice while in training. If he were real and this had just happened, two officers giving in to a momentary desire the way things went sometimes, Pinter would have been thrilled. As it was, Pinter endured this the only way she could. She threw herself into the fuck, resisting Admiral Taylor's slow, heavy thrusts with pressure from her hips, and they came simultaneously on their sides. The ghost of Taylor grit his teeth and threw his head back. He growled. Pinter's body shook once, mightily with her orgasm, like a euphoric shiver, and that strange, hot fluid of his filled her. She wondered why a ghost would have to catch its breath, and then the realization of what she was doing overtook her, and she laughed. Admiral Taylor laughed, too. "I see you're enjoying yourself," he said.




Commander Pinter Ch. 10



"That was good," Pinter said. She wasn't lying.

"I knew you would come around," Admiral Taylor said.

Pinter settled into the bed then, expecting the night to be over, to be left alone until she fell asleep, but then his heavy hands clutched her waist. She flipped onto her stomach. "What the..."

"We're not quite done," Admiral Taylor said. He lifted Pinter's hips, poised her on her knees with her rear presented, and the rigid tip of his cock pressed against her asshole.

Pinter gasped as she realized what was happening, but she couldn't resist. "Tell me if I hurt you," Admiral Taylor said.

Of course she wouldn't. He wasn't himself, and she wasn't about to stop her captor from having his way with her. So she endured it, as painful as his initial penetration had been.

It had to be ten minutes later and he was still at it. Pinter gave the ghost credit. He could fuck for a long time, but she just wanted it to be over. The tip of his cock pushed all the way to her sphincter, and Pinter feared the inevitable when he finally pulled out. She already felt the pressure building up in her abdomen, and her clenched teeth were partly from the pain of it all but partly from nervous expectation. She instinctively clenched the muscles of her anus around his cock in a preemptive attempt to keep everything inside where it belonged. That seemed to drive Admiral Taylor wilder, and he sped up his thrusts.

"That's good," Admiral Taylor said breathlessly. "You're doing great. Do you like it?"

"Mhmm," Pinter lied.

"Yeah, you like it," Admiral Taylor said.

"Come inside me," Pinter said.

"Really?"

"Do it," Pinter said. "Come inside me. Do it now." She had her reasons.

"I'm getting there," Admiral Taylor said. "The way you squeeze me like that...AH!"

Admiral Taylor wavered. He gave another wobbly thrust, and Pinter seized the moment. She called out in her best orgasm voice, planting her chest on the bed, twisting her arms in the bedspread that pulled out from beneath the mattress. Admiral Taylor gave two more wobbly thrusts, planted himself deep in Pinter's ass, and grunted as he came. There wasn't as much fluid this time after three pops, but Pinter felt it all over the tender inner walls of her anus. She lay there beneath him, catching her breath, thankful it was finally over.

"By the gods, you're a great fuck," Admiral Taylor said as he pulled out.

Pinter clenched her insides and squeezed her eyes tight. Any lubrication there might have been was wasted, and Admiral Taylor pulled out with a dry, burning rake. Pinter's muscles rumbled as he left. A little bit of gas escaped her. Her crotch went warm as some of his fluid trickled from her asshole. She tried to fight the rest, but she let go. She groaned, and three more spastic waves flowed out of her.

"I'll get that for you," Admiral Taylor said, and he brought up a towel, wiping Pinter clean like he was cleaning a soiled baby. She lay there, all that she could do, and she endured it. She wished she was anywhere but here.

Finally Admiral Taylor collapsed on the bed next to her. A satisfied grin covered his face, and he sighed as he settled in. "Quite the night," he said. "And this is just the beginning."

Pinter forced herself to smile. She kissed him. "I can't wait," she said.

But she did wait for Admiral Taylor to fall asleep, or whatever it was he was doing now. Pinter wasn't sure if ghosts actually fell asleep, but he seemed to. His breath slowed to even inhalations. Pinter kept herself under control, not wanting to give herself away, and when he finally seemed unconscious she looked around the room.

Pinter gathered her see-through nightgown. She searched Admiral Taylor's discarded garments and found what looked like a key chain. She found one that matched the lock on the chamber doorknob, and she latched the door behind her without a sound, locking Admiral Taylor inside. Pinter was free in Skyreach.

The place was a tomb. The only sound was the muffled clap of her bare feet on the cold marble floors. A cold draft blew through the halls, and she pulled the sheer nightgown closer around herself, fighting off a shiver. Her friends were gone. Where Admiral Taylor had sent them Pinter had no idea. She didn't even know if she was still in the reality from before or if she was someplace else, someplace like where Admiral Taylor found himself, between the "real" and the nether. This place was real enough. It was the same Skyreach she and the others had liberated earlier that day. Pinter retraced their progress, realizing her bed chamber was just down the hall from Vyrex's balcony. Probably the royal chamber. She descended a number of staircases and found nothing but empty atriums and vacant sanctums. Not even the minions they had killed remained. Whatever happened had cleansed Skyreach of everything physical but herself. Pinter wondered what else could be here.

The hallway curved to the right, and Pinter followed to a set of steps that ended with a closed doorway. Something hummed inside. Something low and powerful. Purple light leaked between the bottoms of the doors and the marble floor, flashing like lightning and flickering as a shadow moved about. Pinter crept close to the doors and put her ear against them. She held her breath as she heard a voice.

"Speak, Ner'zhul," the voice said. "I am here."

That was Ephial, Admiral Taylor's executive officer who had accompanied them to Skyreach. Pinter covered her mouth, smothering her shock, and she listened.

"Is Skyreach yours?" a deep grumbly voice said. It had to be Ner'zhul. Pinter had only come across the warlock Orc once before, when Yrel had driven him back to the Shadowmoon Burial Grounds just before cleansing the Temple of Karabor of Iron Horde invaders. They knew that victory would be short-lived. Pinter cursed herself for neglecting it. Her heart raced in her ears. It was a terrible idea, but she had to see. Pinter cracked open the door.

Ephial stood in the middle of the circular room, his back to Pinter, his arms raised. Before him opened a wide portal through which Pinter could see Ner'zhul. Purple fire rippled all over the room, the ridges of the portal glowing with arcane flame.

"It is ours, Ner'zhul," Ephial said. "Admiral Taylor remains under our control. And Commander Pinter is here, alone, and his."

"Very good," Ner'zhul said. "Hellscream grows impatient. He wishes to take her garrison and be done with this nuisance."

"Does he not understand the delicacy of our situation?" Ephial asked.

Ner'zhul harrumphed. "Hellscream has little patience for delicacy," he said. "He's more the type to lick his wounds after hastily destroying his enemy."

"I'd like to make it through this as unscathed as possible," Ephial said. "I'm already dead. That's enough for now."

"We will be ready soon," Ner'zhul said. "Be sure Soulscythe is ready when I ask for him."

"Soulscythe will be there," Ephial said.

"Soulscythe?" Pinter said, and she opened her eyes wide in shock. She said it aloud!

Ner'zhul looked up and over Ephial, right at Pinter in the doorway. Ephial turned around and saw her, as well. "Stop her!" Ner'zhul shouted, and the portal closed.

Pinter turned to run.

Admiral Taylor was there. "I wondered where you'd gone," he said, and he grabbed Pinter by the throat.

"Please let me go," Pinter said as she clutched his hands, but then she lifted off the floor. She kicked her feet loosely in the air as Admiral Taylor's face elongated, his grin widened, and his jaws went lined with pointy teeth.

"You are going nowhere," Admiral Taylor said. "Like I said, you're here forever."

He grew. He expanded, and he sprouted another pair of legs until his abdomen resembled the rear end of an insect. The hand around Pinter's throat turned into a long pincer inside a slick shell. A thick plate grew from his head, and his eyes went big and bulged. He was monstrous. And he had her.

"You belong to Soulscythe, Pinter," the monstrosity had been Admiral Taylor said. "You would do well not to struggle."

* * *

Seven talbuks raced through the night. They crossed the plains of Arak, traversing the jagged countryside under the shining white moon, silver with the world around them. They were jewels in the night, and the adventurers on their backs spoke no words. They knew where they were going. There was no time for delay. The talbuks flew like comets, heavenly orbs come down to the earth and burning now with the intensity of their riders. Soon the towering peak of Skyreach appeared out of the darkness, and they raced up the winding path, executing each switchback with breakneck speed. And they were back at the gates.

Mandala leapt down from her talbuk and drew her sword and shield. Indrid was next to her, readying a small fireball in her palm.

"I'll light our way," Indrid said, winding up to toss the fireball into Skyreach's gaping front hall.

Mandala held her sister's hand. "We don't know what's there," she said.

"But it could be anything," Indrid said.

"Exactly," Mandala said. "We can't give ourselves away. It could endanger Pinter and Taylor."

Indrid cancelled her spell and put her hand on her hip. "Your feelings for your Commander cloud your judgment," Indrid said.

"Now wait just a minute," Anna said, moving in between Mandala and Indrid. She changed into a Worgen quickly.

"Anna." Jarvus put his hand on Anna's arm.

Anna shook him loose. "She has no right to talk to Mandala like that," Anna said. "It's none of her business..."

"Leave it alone," Mandala said. She stepped around Anna and looked Indrid right in the eye. "We will settle this later. For now, let's rescue who we came for so you can return to Azeroth and complete your mission."

A tense moment passed, but then Indrid stepped back. "Very well, paladin," Indrid said. "Serve the light and lead us."

Anna snarled quietly at Indrid, but the mage ignored her. They all followed Mandala into the quiet halls of Skyreach, dark now with night and quiet as a tomb. Jarvus changed into a panther and walked obediently at Mandala's side. Reshad followed them with his guards.

The silence overwhelmed them. It filled them, and the heartbeat in Mandala's ears pained her with each tick. There was nothing here, nothing visible anyway. Everything was gone. Her gut tightened at the possibility that they were too late for whatever danger threatened Pinter, but she pushed the fear away and led the group up the winding stairs of Skyreach.

"There's nothing here," Indrid said. There was nothing boastful nor crass in it. Indrid was just as fearful as Mandala.

"There has to be," Mandala said.

"It's empty," Jarvus said.

"No it's not," Mandala said.

"Mandala, honey," Anna said.

"We're not giving up!" Mandala said. "Something is here. Maybe we can't see it, but there is so much in our world that remains hidden to us. We just defended a garrison full of ghosts from an invasion. Ghosts! We walked and talked with them, and last night they fed us. They gave us shelter. Ghosts, damn you! Pinter and Admiral Taylor are here. We're not leaving until we find them, and they are coming back with us alive."

The others looked at her with pity. No condescension. No scorn. They understood how Mandala felt for Pinter, Indrid most of all, even if she didn't approve of some aspects of their relationship. Mandala loved her friends and treated them like family. Pinter was her closest friend of all now. To lose her would be devastating. The initial rumblings encroached on Mandala's heart, and the possibility of it suddenly became very real for the first time. Maybe Pinter was gone. Maybe she would never see her friend again. Mandala turned away from them, and she threw her shield with a roar up the winding hall. It crashed unseen, echoing far away in the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Mandala," Indrid said.

Mandala closed her eyes, but just before she surrendered to despair she heard it. A voice. Distant, but distinct. "Please let me go."

Mandala looked up quickly.

"Maybe we look for a few more minutes," Jarvus said.

"Quiet!" Mandala yelled. Everyone recoiled.

Mandala strained to listen again. She cocked her head to angle her ear, and through the thick silence she heard an unearthly voice, half human, half something else. "You would do well not to struggle."

"They're here," Mandala said. And she ran.

The others followed. "I don't hear anything," Anna said.

Mandala snatched up her shield and carried it ready to fight. "You don't need to," she said. "Just follow me."

They ran through the winding halls. They climbed another staircase, and they found themselves inside a wide, circular room. Mandala stopped just inside. The others gathered around her.

"There's nothing here," Jarvus said.

But then they heard it. They all did. The horrible roar of some creature from beyond our realm of perception.

* * *

The thick pincer held Pinter ten feet high in the air as Soulscythe carried her into the room. She struggled and kicked, but her vision clouded with stars. She didn't have much longer before she passed out. "I'll do what you want," Pinter said in a croak. "Just let me go."

"We're not done with you," Ephial said. "You haven't learned your lesson yet."

"Please, Admiral Taylor."

"He is Soulscythe," Ephial said. "And he can't hear you."

Pinter moved her eyes just enough to see down into Taylor's. They were monstrous and insectoid. He was Soulscythe, but as Pinter looked she saw a glimmer. Or she thought she did. She had to. "Admiral, please," Pinter said.

"He can't hear you!" Ephial shouted.

It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Pinter pressed on. "This isn't you, Admiral Taylor," Pinter said. "You know me. I know you. Something in you is still good and pure. We can find it. Just let me go and we'll bring you back."

The glimmer shined. Soulscythe flinched, just a little.

"Admiral Taylor is in there," Pinter said as the pincer loosened around her neck. The stars in her vision disappeared, and she could breathe. "You're a good man. You haven't been yourself. Fight these monsters, and we'll destroy them together."

Soulscythe looked long and hard into Pinter. Tension burned white hot, and Pinter held her breath. And then he threw her.

She landed hard and slid across the floor, wincing at the pain in her belly but grateful for the air that rushed into her lungs. Pinter spun fast, crouching on her knees, ready to run if she needed to.

But Soulscythe ignored her. He was after Ephial.

"You fool!" Ephial yelled. "We were so close! Do you know what you've done?"

"Never again, Ephial," Soulscythe said in a voice that came from beyond. "My betrayer." He reared up, brandishing his pincers at Ephial.

Ephial just snapped his fingers. There was a burst of light, and Soulscythe flew away, crashing against the wall of the room. "This world was ours," Ephial said. "Yours and mine. We would have wiped Ner'zhul and the Shadow Council like a muddy stain. We would have destroyed Hellscream and dominated Draenor for the rest of time. And you would have had Pinter. You always wanted her. She was yours!"

Ephial stood over Soulscythe, who writhed in pain. He opened his palm over the stricken beast. Purple flame washed over him, and the beast screamed, ripping through Pinter's spine. She grimaced at the sound, and she watched as Soulscythe changed, as his monstrous form diminished into something small and humanoid. Soon he was Admiral Taylor again, the ghost, barely mobile on his hands and knees. Ephial closed his hand. The flame disappeared.

"I will end you soon enough, Admiral," Ephial said. He turned to Pinter, and with a snap of his fingers she was frozen in place. "But first, dear Pinter, I will make you suffer. I can think of any number of things to do with the more interesting parts of your anatomy. None of them will bring you pleasure. Myself, though."

Ephial drew nearer. Pinter could only watch. He grinned wickedly, and she could only imagine the maniacal things that he conjured in that demented head of his. He opened his hands, filled with purple flame, and Pinter closed her eyes.

She didn't see it, but she heard. A rip opened up in the fabric of the room as if the air itself split apart. A golden hammer flew end over end through the room, and it planted in the floor with a blinding light that filled Pinter's head through her closed eyes.

Ephial roared in anger and pain. Pinter looked.

Mandala charged through the opening, appearing as if from nothing. Jarvus was right behind her, and there was Indrid, and Anna.

Mandala threw her shield at Ephial, connecting with his neck. If he had been a corporeal Human the triple axe blades would have decapitated him, but in his ghost form it merely stunned him. Ephial fell to his knees, and then Indrid charged up with a nice spell ready in her hands. She opened them, and a fireball sent him skidding across the floor with a pained howl.

Anna took on her voluptuous vine form and sent a wave of healing spores over Pinter. Pinter found her strength and stood, rushing to join her friends who had somehow found her in this strange plane of existence. "It was Ephial," she said. "The whole time. Admiral Taylor knew nothing."

Mandala and Indrid set upon Ephial. The Draenei sisters cast spell after spell, Mandala smiting the cursed warlock with light that agonized him, Indrid burning the air around him so he couldn't move away. Finally Ephial rose in the air, not by any action of Mandala or Indrid, but in his death throes Pinter realized. His body caved back on itself, and light ripped along his front in a growing seam. He growled in pain. "The Shadow Council will have you all!" he yelled.

And he burst in blinding light. And he was gone.

Pinter ran to Admiral Taylor, who just now found his strength and sat up. She put her arm around him and helped him stand. "I have you," Pinter said. "Easy."

"Pinter," Admiral Taylor said. "I'm so sorry. Those things I did to you. My gods."

"Stop," Pinter said. "You weren't yourself."

"But I," Admiral Taylor faltered. "He was right. From the moment I saw you in the vanguard ranks, I felt something for you. I was waiting, but then the mutiny. And tonight. How I acted! I'm so ashamed."

"It's done," Pinter said. "You don't have to apologize. I know what you are, and these monsters could never defile you."

They looked at each other, and they laughed. It was all they could do now, but it was the best they could have done.

"Ready to go home?" Mandala asked as she approached.

"I am," Admiral Taylor said. "So are the others."

* * *

Dawn broke orange over Admiral Taylor's garrison. The ghosts of his followers stood in the open, glowing silver spirits in the day's infant light. Admiral Taylor stood on the steps of his town hall to address them, and they listened. They would have followed him to the Firelands if he asked them to.

"You people are my family," Admiral Taylor said. "You followed me in life, and you never left my side in death. I couldn't have been more honored to have known you. But your time is done. I free you from your obligation. Go now as you wish, and be with the eternal."

And they were gone. Some of them turned to walk away and vanished. Some of them waved goodbye to Admiral Taylor as they disappeared. In a few moments the garrison was empty. His followers were gone. They were at peace.

"They were good people," Mandala said, and she sniffed back a tear. "All of them."

"I will see them again," Admiral Taylor said.

Mandala turned to Indrid. Her sister touched her shoulder, and Mandala gripped her tight but gentle, loving. "I am harsh with you, sister," Indrid said. "I am misguided. You love with an intensity that puts me to shame. You love, and that's all that matters. Love your life, and love who you will."




Commander Pinter Ch. 10



"Thank you, sister," Mandala said, and she hugged her.

Indrid turned to Admiral Taylor. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"I haven't seen Proudmoore in ages," Admiral Taylor said. "I'd love to know what she has in store for me."

Indrid mounted her talbuk. Admiral Taylor took his seat behind her. She turned the beast to wave its front legs in a goodbye salute to Pinter and her friends, and she galloped off.

"Truly a great soul," Reshad said. He stepped next to Pinter. "And you are a worthy successor, Ambassador Pinter."

"I will do my best," Pinter said.

* * *

The gryphons soared into the garrison, landing one after another. Pinter dismounted, handing the reigns to the gryphon master who corralled all of the beasts into pen. The air of Shadowmoon Valley was clean in her lungs, such a refreshment from the turmoil of the last few days. Mandala went with her to the town hall to debrief Scout Valdez on what happened. Anna and Jarvus went to the Testy Talbuk for lunch, inviting Pinter and Mandala along when they got a chance. Voren and Fitzlenoob found them and went along. It was a welcome sight to see her garrison again, to see her friends together. Pinter smiled as she climbed the town hall steps with Mandala.

They debriefed with Scout Valdez, and then Pinter made her way to her chamber to freshen up before joining the others for lunch. Mandala went ahead to the Talbuk, and Pinter was alone for a few moments. She took off her gear and set it aside for cleaning, walking naked across the room to the water closet. Just a brief scrub was all she needed, and she would join the others. She threw open the door.

And she screamed in shock.

The Saberon - Pinter's Saberon friend - pounced out, took her in his powerful arms, and covered her mouth. Pinter breathed a few frightened moments, but then realized the Saberon meant no harm. He only meant to quiet her. Pinter's breath calmed down, and she nodded. The Saberon removed his hand.

"What are you..."

The Saberon put his finger to his lips.

"What are you doing?" Pinter hissed in a whisper.

"These people," the Saberon said quietly. "Some are not what they seem."

It dawned on her then. What Ner'zhul had said back in Skyreach. The Shadow Council. And her garrison.

"Shit."