Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 9
Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.
Author's note: o.O I'm on a roll, lol. Continuation and stuff. Enjoy!
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Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 9
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Frozen.
The two hooved beings had been stuck in position ever since the knock at the door to the bathroom. The smaller of the two whispered in the other's ear that it was a friend. At that the large bull relaxed a bit. They were both still crushed up against one another, naked in the warm water of the large round bath, however their arousal had quickly disappeared at the interruption.
"When you two are finished in there, I need to have a word with you," the voice from behind the door called out.
"We'll be out in a minute," the draenei called back, his eyes on the tauren in front of him.
The sound of footsteps as they moved away was invitation enough for the two to share a few short kisses, however they did not want to get themselves worked up again just yet. Anarchei separated himself reluctantly from his new lover and climbed out of the water, his naked form dripping water on the stone floor. He turned back to Stronghoof, who looked up at him as if pleading for them to continue.
"Sorry," the draenei apologised. "But with Jorus around it would be too weird. You know that we share that link with our minds, and the closer he is the more he can feel. Even if we blocked each other out, he would still feel the strong emotions I felt, and I really want this to be private between us."
The bull nodded in understanding and sighed. "I want that also."
Anarchei extended his hand and grasped Stronghoof's own and helped him out of the bath. The tauren had become much heavier than usual thanks to his now water-soaked fur. Letting go, the draenei turned and walked over to the door. On a small table sat a pile of clean towels. He picked up two large white ones and threw one over to Stronghoof, who deftly caught it. They both dried themselves off. Both started at their heads and slowly worked their way down. The draenei finished first. His job was made a rather quick and easy one due to his relatively smaller body and the fact that the only hair he sported was on his head and just above his hooves. The tauren on the other hand was having a tougher time of it. Anarchei saw this and moved to give him a hand. Using his half-wet towel, he helped rub through Stronghoof's fur, slowly but surely getting his companion as dry as possible.
"Thanks," the bull offered in response to the help we received. "It's too bad there isn't some magical way to get dry."
"Hmm," the draenei hummed as he finished drying the fur around the tauren's right hoof. "Maybe that's something I can bring up some time when I have the chance to talk with the mages here."
Anarchei stood up and threw his soaked towel to the floor. Stronghoof followed suit, a loud splash echoed in the room as the wet fabric collided with stone. As the draenei turned and picked up fresh clothing that had somehow replaced the stack of dry towels on the table, the bull couldn't help but stare at the thick tail that extended from the draenei's lower back and down to the floor, the jagged edges along the top a strange but fitting addition. Anarchei turned back and handed Stronghoof a set of clothes, which to his amazement were just his size.
"Jorus made them," the draenei explained. "He's a very good tailor. All the fabric in this place he made himself."
With a nod, the tauren carefully slipped into the clothing. He pulled the white underwear on first, which contrasted well against his dark brown fur. Then came the leggings, black as night, and finally the shirt, a light pink affair that the tauren wasn't so sure about.
"Anarchei?" Stronghoof grumbled.
"Don't like the colour, huh?" the draenei asked in return. "Don't worry, I think it looks good. Besides, look at what he made me."
The tauren finally noticed the fully clothed draenei. He was wearing the same sort of pants as him, but the shirt was a light purple instead of pink.
"Yeah, but that suits you," Stronghoof almost whined, picking at his new shirt with his left hand.
"No one will see you but us," Anarchei explained in an attempt to calm the tauren's doubts. "Besides, I think it shows off your arms really well."
The bull saw that what his companion said was indeed true. The short sleeves made his muscled arms look much bigger than they really were. Not only that, his chest was clearly outlined in the tight-fitting shirt. He couldn't help but admire himself, and his doubts over the colour vanished.
"So what do you think?" the draenei asked as he struck a pose, a flex of his right arm created a bulge in his bicep that stretched the fabric to its limit.
All Stronghoof could do was stare.
"You guys coming out here or what?" an irritated voice yelled from the lounge.
"We better get out there before he starts ranting," Anarchei said quietly as he stepped over to the door and opened it.
Stronghoof nodded and followed his new love out of the bathroom and down the corridor into the main area of the apartment. Sitting on one of the lounge chairs was an elf, but in reality it was Jorus in disguise.
"Took you long enough," the sindorei grumbled, his arms crossed in irritation.
"My fur takes a while to dry," the tauren explained as he sat down beside Anarchei on the couch across from Jorus.
"Well, I hope you two had a good time," Jorus responded, uncrossing his arms with a smirk.
The draenei and tauren both glanced at each other briefly before they turned back to face the elf.
"Anyway," Jorus continued as he leaned forward, hands together in front of him. "I have spoken to my family. They all said to say hello, and they have arranged to have a guard placed outside the tower just in case the unthinkable should happen."
"Thank you," Anarchei expressed with gratitude.
"No problem," the elf waved him off. "I was also wondering if you two had any plans tonight, because my family has invited you to dinner."
The both shook their heads in reply.
"Excellent!" Jorus said with a smile. "So what are we going to do until then? We have a bit of time to spare at the moment. Any ideas?"
"I'm not sure..." Anarchei trailed off.
"Maybe our new friend here can tell us a bit about himself," the elf offered. "I'm kind of intrigued."
"I don't know..." Stronghoof tried to say.
"Come on," Jorus prodded gently with a smile. "I'm not going to bite."
"If you insist," the tauren sighed.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," the draenei offered, his hand wrapped around the bull's in reassurance.
"No, it's all right. I want to," Stronghoof smiled at Anarchei as he squeezed his hand in return.
After a moment to clear his head, he began his tale. "Originally, I was a warrior. I was trained as one, simply because my people are very much connected to nature and if you can't make it as a druid or a shaman, you need to find a different path to take. I chose the way of the warrior because I had a friend who took the training. It was this friend of mine that eventually became my future mate. We fell for each other rather quickly. After that it was discovered that I had a talent for shamanism. So, I was pulled out of my life of a warrior and began my training as a shaman. I learnt all there was to know. The spirits, the totems, the spells. Everything.
After keeping our mateship a secret for over a year, it was eventually found out that we were together. Thunderbluff threw us out. We found our way to Ratchet, where the goblins didn't care about what we were. To them, business was important, and rejecting people because of certain traits meant smaller profits. So they gave us jobs. My mate became a guard in the town, while I worked as a healer part time. I made more gold crafting gems and jewellery, and I am one of the few tauren to have mastered that tricky profession. We spent a year in Ratchet, making a fair living. One day we heard of the problems in Outland, and so we decided to go check it out. After fighting various hostiles, we returned to Ratchet. Not long after that, we heard of the Lich King and his attack on Azeroth. We took up our weapons and totems, and set off for Northrend. My mate heard of the offensive on the Wrath Gate and decided to help out. I went along, but stayed near the back of the Horde formation. The Lich King came. The Forsaken attacked them all. My mate was hit by their poison while I ran away in fear."
For a moment Stronghoof was unable to continue his story, a wetness coming to his eyes. Anarchei carefully placed his arm around his companion's back, the tauren nodded his thanks at the comfort and offered a smile, a smile that the draenei returned. His strength returned, and his eyes a little clearer, he continued.
"After that the dragons came. Despite their calming presence, when I returned to find the body of my mate among the dead, I was unable to bear the strain of his loss. I fled. I eventually came to the conclusion that life wasn't worth living. So I found a rabble of undead and lured them into battle. I had not worn any protective armour because I wanted it to be quick. I set up my totems and started firing spells at them, hoping to make myself a big enough target that they would come after me like a swarm. Well, it worked, they came. At that point, Anarchei showed up and started drawing them away, but not before they overcame me and infected me with the plague. Everything after that, you know."
Jorus laid back against the soft cushion of the lounge chair, his arms behind his head. "Wow. That's quite a story. So, I'm guessing the reason Thunderbluff exiled you is because your mate was male?"
Stronghoof nodded.
"Well, you don't need to worry about something like that happening here," the elf explained. "Once you gain our trust, we are pretty tolerant."
"That's good to know," the tauren replied with a smile.
"So, I'm guessing you two are together now, huh?" Jorus chuckled.
Stronghoof and Anarchei looked into each other's eyes and both silently came to the same conclusion. They nodded.
"I thought so," the elf smirked. "I thought I felt something interesting going in the bathroom earlier."
"Jorus!" Anarchei blurted indignantly.
"Yeah, I know," Jorus responded, his hands out in front of him to placate the draenei. "From now on, when you two are alone I'll wait until you give me the word so I know it's safe to come back."
The light in the room had steadily begun to grow dimmer as the light from the sun disappeared. As night fell, around the room the candles in brackets on the walls magically lit themselves.
"Well, it looks like I need to get going," the elf said as he stood up. "I'll need to get ready for dinner. I'll meet you there later."
With that, the elf, clad in his elaborate clothing, stepped up to a pedestal near the wall upon which sat what appeared to be an orb made of golden glass. He placed his hands on the sphere, and in a rush of blue energy, disappeared in a flash.
"What was that?" Stronghoof asked in awe at the sight.
"Oh, that," Anarchei tried to explain as he looked at what the tauren starred at. "That's a magical object that let's us get up and down the tower without flying. There aren't any stairs here you see."
"Ah, I get it."
The draenei turned back to his mate and gave the tauren a quick kiss on the lips. "Come on, we will need a jacket at least if we are going to dinner with Jorus' family. They are kind of uptight about appearances."
"You mean, more so then Jorus?"
Anarchei nodded. Both of them shared a short laugh at the expense of their friend. The mirth died down eventually, and when it did, the draenei stood and lead his mate to his bedroom. Down the corridor again, this time the door next to the bathroom. Anarchei opened it to reveal a room about the same size as the large bathroom. The outer wall curved, as this was a tower after all. In the centre of the room was what could only be described as the biggest bed Stronghoof had ever seen. It was twice as wide as an average tauren, and long enough for him to lay down in with room to spare. Anarchei led the tauren to his wardrobe, which was a room in itself, and laid out on a shelf was a new suit for Stronghoof, and a matching one beside it for Anarchei.
"Let me guess," the tauren started, as he picked up the jacket. "Jorus?"
"Yeah," the draenei answered as he admired the fine fabric. "He finds time for so much. Sometimes I think he has done more for me than I have done for him."
The light outside had faded fast, so they donned their new attire and made their way to leave the apartment. They touched the orb in the lounge and were teleported to the ground, where a sindorei warrior equipped in heavy armour awaited them. Anarchei began to walk down the street, Stronghoof alongside, their bodyguard fell in behind them. They headed down the street to a large domed building that had two tall towers made of pale blue stone on either side. As they entered, a distressed looking female elf, dressed in a long flowing golden dress, showed them a note covered in fresh blood. Anarchei took the note from who he knew to be Jorus' mother.
"I went looking for him," she spoke in a voice laden with sobs. "He said he would back. I went to his room. It was a mess, and the note...the note was on the floor...in a puddle of blood."
The woman began to cry in earnest, as the draenei unfolded the parchment with shaking hands.
"If you ever want to see Jorus alive again, Anarchei and Stronghoof must come to this place before the sun rises. If any others follow, he dies."
Below the scribble was a hastily drawn map that outlined Draenor, a large "X" marked a cave not far from the small city.