If there’s any vendor trash item that I’ve ever been actually happy to receive, it’s any of the Steamy Romance Novels found throughout the World of Warcraft. Our guild actually keeps them in a lending library of sorts on the main tab of the guild bank. The hilariously skillful and oftentimes disturbing way in which they toe the line with double entendres and innuendos (inYOURendo!) has pretty much guaranteed them a place in my heart as my favorite writing example in the entire game.
While bored a few nights ago, I decided to add my own installment to the trilogy of General Marcus Jonathan’s exploits across Azeroth and beyond. I scribbled down a couple of ideas but only now actually sat down to try and turn it into a “coherent” piece.
I apologize to all two of my readers, Blizzard Entertainment, my mother, my stepfather, and if I believed in him, probably Jesus Christ himself. The following is a fan work and is not an official World of Warcraft composition. No copyright infringement is intended as I am not profiting from it in any way, unless you guys actually want to give me a job which I will happily accept and promise to scrap the idea for the Tyrande and Illidan pairing I had planned next. Also, let it be known that tagging this post was the most awkward thing I’ve ever done.
General Marcus Jonathan strained against his bindings. “Don’t your people know the phrase ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’” he asked, warily eyeing the shapely black mageweave-clad draenei woman before him. “I told you, some dwarf by the side of the road handed me the note and told me to bring it here. That’s all I know!”
“You will speak only when spoken to!” his beautiful captor hissed and reached out to grab his swollen, heavy sack.
Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned as the coins within clinked together in her tight grasp. “Oh come on! You already took my pants! I’ll tell you what, keep them, forget the reward, just give me one of those rings and we’ll call it even. I bet they’d do just fine at the auctioneer.”
“Yes. They are real,” she mused for a moment, then shot him a somewhat threatening look. “And they can cut glass.”
Marcus’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Lady, I’m telling you. You’re pretty and all, but I don’t play rough. Unless, of course” – here his eyes took on a hopeful spark – “you’d be willing to try some… role-reversal?”
The draenei blushed and stared down at her freshly-polished hooves for a moment. Even she was not immune to the General’s charms. Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined him touching her the way A’dal had…
“Fine. Bring ample supply of butter, and goblin jumper cables,” she whispered into his ear in a sultry, heavily-accented voice as she undid the tight cuffs around his wrists.
The freed paladin eagerly watched the enticing vision of her backside sashaying into the next room for a few moments before following her in. He had only taken a few steps over the threshold when he noticed the succubus standing next to a hooded gnome. “Ah… I thought it was just going to be… you know… I’ve never been with a gnome before.”
“Nothing can compare to gnomish engineering,” the draenei protested and gestured towards a table lined with an array of particularly strange-looking mechanical objects.
Marcus hesitated for a moment, then sighed and undid his belt. Dungeon crawling was not without its dangers, or its rewards.
<The rest of the pages are stuck together with what you hope is candle wax.>