#Fire Worgen

[dylan-grimmkell]

Druid of the Flame worgen are real! Thank you Dragonflight 10.2

[galderthefuzzy]

Burning Fury

The first order of business for Alanna Vex after her return was to establish a safe base of operations she could use to recover her strength and assess the situation. She begun by deciding to revive her long lost advisors, the inner ring of her powerbase. The first to come back was her trusty Worgen bodyguard, Tiammath. The fierce blood knight returned in the form of extremely massive and muscled Worgen female, just as furious and fierce as before.

The price paid was significant, but Alanna knew it was well worth paying. Tiammath has resumed her duty as Alanna's muscle and protector. While it might seem to be entirely unnecessary, not even the Crimson Countess can be alert at all times. I have finished this piece recently, while being heavily inspired by House Vex and their crimson restoration. I hope you like how it turned out! And yes, my Worgen have tails. TAILS FOR WORGEN!

[begemotthedog]

blue night and warm, calm fire

commission for BreakerMonray on twitter!

[thetantiger]

Fire Mage

thought of something to make ashley's backstory darker when drawing this muahahaha

anyway, arson

[amberram]

Crazed Fire Worgen

oldie but a goodie this is my worgen oc Tharle. he's a fire mage and tends to catch himself aflame. think werewolf junkrat if you like what you see, my commissions are open! please consider commissioning me here on my website. https://amberramcomminfo.carrd.co

Posted using PostyBirb

[yserina-starweaver]

February 20, 2024 Daily Writing Challenge Bargain/Myth

CW: Implied domestic violence, implied murder

A knock rapped at the gnarled front door to the tree that Yserina had shaped into her home. That, in itself, was unusual enough to pique her interest — she’d purposefully chosen a spot more than an hour’s hike on foot from Bel’ameth to settle. It was important that anyone who wanted to visit make the commitment to do so. 

She shot a suspicious glance at Fiore; the Sin’dorei girl had taken a jaunt back to civilization for a day before returning. The way she’d curled up to sleep on a pad of furs and moss in the corner highlighted her thin, threadbare frame. Surely no one was looking for her.

The knock came again, and Yserina sighed before pushing herself to stand, her old bones creaking the same way the great young tree’s branches did in a gust of west wind off the sea. The door opened for her, moving aside before she even had to touch it, and she took a moment to regard the interloper on the porch. 

A Gilnean; the blonde woman had to be, those touched by Goldrinn’s rage had a particular pallor cast on them in the moons’ glow. She didn’t even bother to try Darnassian and started immediately with harsh Common, “Are you the Starweaver?” 

Yserina smiled, her sharp Kaldorei fangs bright in the dim evening light, “I am. Are you here to bargain?” 

It was hard to ignore how much the Starweaver towered over the more diminutive humanoid as she ushered the wolven woman into the arboreal abode before she could decline. Her accented stammer to answer was silenced as soon as she spotted the Sin’dorei sleeping in the crook of the tree, “I shouldn’t—” 

“Be here? No, you shouldn’t be. But you are; Please! Sit, I will make some tea. Worry not about anything more, you’re safe here,” that was far from the truth, but fear stank and ruined a good deal. 

“My name is—” 

Yserina sliced a hand through the air to cut her off as she stooped to gather up the elegant clay teapot from it’s hook over the fire and crooned a soothing, “Hush.” The flash of a glowing, emerald green eye from among the moss endeared a smirk before she turned and poured a cup of peacebloom tea that was almost immediately pressed into the hands of her visitor, “No names. What troubled you to come all this way?” 

“A friend of mine recommended you, she said you could help me,” the blonde woman turned the cup in her hands, her eyes a bit wide and wild as she glanced around the cozy interior. 

There was a fading bruise under her left eye, and another around her wrist. Yserina’s slender, mothsilk white eyebrow lifted as her Common words landed with some ease, “My myth must persist then. What kind of help are you hoping for, my dear?” 

The blonde hesitated, and swallowed thickly — an action quickly chased by the tea in her hands. As the silence began to grow deafening she answered, “My husband. He’s… His rage, I need something to settle it.” 

Yserina hummed with a theatricality that seemed to give the sway of her layers of silken robes extra buoyancy as she spun to gather up mis-matched jars from the higher shelves that had grown out of the shaped wooden interior that they all sat in, “And what do you have to trade for this cure?” 

The sound of the teacup connecting with the table top and a leather satchel opening, “I wasn’t sure what to bring.. There’s um… I have an heirloom necklace of woven pearls, some bobbins of ice spider silk, or five yards or so of woven gossamer?” 

There certainly were some prizes in there, and she smiled warmly as she returned to the blonde woman with her mortar and pestle, “All of it will do.” She took some pleasure in the flinch as her customer piled the items on the table across from her as she ground up a mix of dried herbs and flowers into a fine powder; the ice spider silk alone was worth a small fortune. 

The worgen woman’s nose wrinkled up as the widowbloom in the mix started to stink, “What am I to do with this, then?” 

Yserina counted out a few bubble poppy pods and crushed them into the powder, not bothering to look up as she worked, “Wait two days for the smell to disperse, then mix the powder into his coffee grounds or tea leaves. Once a day until he quiets. You’ll know when it has worked.” She retrieved a small measuring spoon from the inside of her sleeve and scooped enough into a small sachet to last a fortnight before offering it over. 

The blonde hesitated again before taking the sachet and tucking it into her pocket, “Thank you. Should I—” 

“Go,” Yserina waved a hand and the door slammed open. 

That was enough to frighten her guest back out into the night. 

Fiore pushed up slightly, propped up on one of her slender arms, “That was widowbloom, wasn’t it? That’ll kill him.” 

The Starweaver gathered up her prizes from the table, admiring the pearls and spider silk, “I said that, didn’t I? You know herbs, then, and their uses. How clever.” 

Perhaps, in time, her little flower would become a Starweaver, too.

@daily-writing-challenge @fio-renze

[wyrmguardsecrets]

The sword has been pulled at the toa. And the winner is a sexfiend furry degenerate who destroyed my friend group and now hangs out all the time with that worgen that ran the howling star guild. Why do shit bags always win and get the good things in life? Seriously. Like my bestie helped organize a charity event for a decade irl. With love and passion for it. And they fired him because he wasn't going to cover for something shady. But they get to be in the charity still and fuck my friend...

.

[iruthomlogs]

LGBT Pride: Magic lessions

A World of Warcraft fanfiction featuring my character Amelia Rashwrencher and her girlfriend Celene, whose appear in my story Empty Shell, in a entry for @thepromptfoundry Pride and Promptudice prompt magic.

Celene Treefeather awaken with a scream as she remember the fire that covered Darnassus and close in on her, the nightmare place her soul was taken, and her eyes look around to find herself in a strange location with two Forsaken looking at her as one of them comment, "Wow, I'm surprised that these new Darkfallen are huge screamers. Someone get Amelia. She will get this, while I go check on the other ones." Celene is scared about what they are talking about before she noticed her skin is grey and she can't feel her heartbeat, giving her the realization that Celene is raised as a undead, one of them.

The female Forsaken is wearing some mage adventurer gears and have long hair as she said to Celene, "Greetings, my name is Amelia Rashwrenceher, and I'm your teacher on how to use magic when you has been raised as a undead like me." Celene don't know if she should trust this woman given that the Horde, along with her undead kind, kill her and many Kalodrei.

Over time, Celene start to get better in her studies in maigc under Amelia's watch and the two start to get close. Amelia think she finally find the perfect girlfriend, but Amelia feel Celene wouldn't accept her due to the fact that Amelia was one of the many soldiers under the Dark Lady command to burn down Darnassus, Celene's home, and Celene may not like women the same way as Amelia do.

A few months after the start of their training in magic, Celene noticed a sad look on Amelia's face and the undead Kalodrei ask Amelia, "Is something wrong, Amelia?" and the female Forsaken said to Celene, "Sorry... It's just... I don't know if you had a boyfriend or a husband... I thinking some silly things..." and Celene ask, "Why do you think I'm into men?" A surprised Amelia said, "What.... I thought.... the fact that I hear you Kalodrei get paired..." and Celene reply, "Yeah, it is true that most Kaldorei are paired in a male-female relationship, but we accept same-sex romantic relationship, with a male Kalodrei offer to be the father of a child of two Kaldorei women. We are connected to the freedom of nature and there is no rules about who you can love in nature. When we joined the Allaince, then-leader Fandral Staghelm order us to hide our same-sex romance, even outlaw it, to get in the humans' good side in case they don't accept it. When Malurion return and recalmed his role from Fandral, we can finally choose who we can love, and I hear that some Kaldorei take Worgens, Gilneans, and different species as lovers, no matter if they are the same gender or not. Well, I was free to have a romantic relationship with before I got killed." Amelia said to Celene, "Sorry about that." and then ask her, "D-Do you... want to be my lover?" The undead Kaldorei reply, "Sure. You look sad and need a lifebond compansion." and the two women lock lips with each other, kissing with passion.

[churchobones]

DWC Day 4: Vengeance

<<PREV | NEXT>>

“And then... I remember...”

Bruce looked down at his arm. His skin was pale as the waning moonlight, black veins writhing with every weakened pulse of his heart. His head swam, vision dim and distant.

Bruce looked up. “The Red Witch. What do you know of her?”

The little lord pursed his lips.

“The legend of E’Andusore… The whore told you, did she?” The shards of whispering shadow framing his head began to spin, building momentum.  “It’s a tale lost to most of my people.

“She was a vicious crone who haunted a powerful magic circle; she and her nightmare hound, Narral’thix.  The sacred site held the key to Life after Death; the natural cycle made manifest in mana.  A power she used to butcher innocents and turn farmland fallow.

“As the story goes,” the lord smiled grimly.  “She ate the dog’s heart to tap into the circle’s power, raising a mighty tree surrounded by a bramble thicket miles wide that only she could pass through unscathed.

“Until the Lady came with fire.  A mother desperate to save her son.”

“Three times I've asked about that story now. The first time I heard it, She shared Her memory with me-- that old Oak Tree.”

Bruce's jaw set as the plaintive mew of a kitten long passed echoed in his mind. In that mansion, where Zelion’s family portraits lined the walls and an Oak Tree split the marble floors, he'd heard her cries.

Her coat was mottled brown with camouflage not yet shed. Milk teeth flashed in the darkness. Paws too big for her scrambled, begging purchase.

Emerald magicks flared outwards from his touch, along the grooves of the Oak’s bark, scrawling up and down the trunk.  A whistling shimmer grew twice as loud from below, a tremor taking the ballroom floor felt up through the soles of his feet to his knees; enough to require bracing but not enough to steal his legs out from beneath him. The floor splintered beneath the kit’s paws, a desperate cry falling away into the darkness below until there was nothing left to be heard but the burgeoning hum of the awakened tree.

She regarded him with a tingle that remained in his fingertips and pricked at his thumbs.  The Oak spoke only by willing a single word to the forefront of his mind: Vengeance.

Her bark served him as second eyes, racing down Her formidable length past the vine covered, stone walls of the cellars, deeper still past crypts, dirt, stone, bone until they reached where Her strongest roots anchored.  She was framed by a circle of fallen trees, Her roots wrapped protectively over an ancient altar of jasper.  The dead lynx cub’s broken back never made it to the stone.

And then the Oak stood silent.

  “I was wondering if I’m no better off than that kitten when Kallarel--”

The smell of sulfur filled the worgen's lungs. Hellfire: the scent which lingered as the bramble brands crawled into skin; the scent which pierced the air with every lit cigarette. He focused on the sickening sweetness alone.

One by one, the arch over his heart gave way as Kallarel tore into the hallway, a manifested monster hot on her high heels with a blazing green gem alight in a chest once empty.

By the third spout of blighted blood, the witch was upon them; beauty, beast and burden all.

By the fourth, her hands were alight with a green fire to match the flame licking the demon’s panting tongue.

By the fifth, the lord’s prone figure was cloaked in cold shadow, absconded without a trace apart from the faintest flicker of rot against the nostrils before the witch could claim him.

And as the last of Zelion’s void crystals burst in Bruce’s chest, the haphazardly placed shard split in two with a deafening crack.

“I can’t... I can’t have died that night. I didn’t. But I dreamed. I dreamed... I was in a house-- the house in Gilneas. With my wife-- with my dead wife, Sophia.”

It was shamefully small, that old cabin in Gilneas. Sophia had given up everything for him-- lands, titles and inheritance. In exchange, Bruce had built a shack with leaky walls and slept with her on the far side of the kitchen for fourteen years.

Now they sat across from one another at the dinner table.

“I thought it might come to this.”

Bruce felt sick. There was a teacup in front of him, which rattled quietly.

“I miss you,” he said. Her face was just as he remembered it; prominent cheeks smattered with freckles and a button nose.

She rolled her eyes-- big, stormy and blue. The same ones he saw every time he looked at his daughter. “You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be. I mean it. I'm proud of how Lizzie turned out. But if you want, you can join me now. You can rest.”

The knot in his stomach twisted.

“You don’t have to,” she went on. “Not everyone gets a choice, but you will.”

The tips of his fingers felt cold as ice. The table trembled below.

She smiled. It was warm and remarkably genuine-- like a candle in the night. “I know this is what you want, Bruce.”

The support beams above his head cracked. Dust fell in a plume, rippling his tea.

“Just know--” she hesitated, expression soft-- “you’re messing with powers you don’t understand. The Gods may never forgive you for this.” 

His chest squeezed. He couldn’t breathe.

“But I'll help guide you home,” she said.

@daily-writing-challenge

[consequencesofargentdawn]

I was part of Stormwind's criminal RP scene for a long time. It is true that we had a mixed reputation and there was drama between different guilds at time. The PCU frequently called us bad RPers and accused us of being ERPers too. Due to their beliefs about us we were under the impression they'd leave us alone.

We had been planning a big community event with a lot of criminal guilds, which was a large party event that was ICly supposed to be a fundraiser. Anyone was welcome at the event with some merchants, nobles and normal citizens attending. Of course, there were players and guilds who attended having their own agendas. We wanted everyone to have fun and didn't think much of the array of attendees at first.

Things became strange when a bunch of characters with nothing in their TRP/MRP but 'Stormwind City Guard' (there was around 15-20 of them) started showing up and taking conveniently strategic positions around the event location they were also mogged as Stormwind Guards as well. As one of the event organizers I just thought it some dynamic RP or part of another guild's storyline so didn't think it was too out of place. However, our guild never made use of NPCs and we only knew of one group who really utilised them, although we thought they wanted nothing to do with us. My character and some of the guild leaders were ICly concerned about many guards showing up out of the blue.

Our guild's head enforcer a worgen called Toby went to patrol around the party event area and he came across two of the 'Stormwind City Guards' at an elevated position where they were loading rifles in /e with one of them aiming down the sights at the head table where a lot of the criminal officers/guild leaders who were running the event were sat/standing around. Toby reacted quickly and attacked them, where the 'Stormwind Guards' tried shooting him. This sent a false signal to the other 'Stormwind Guards' at the party, and they all started opening fire at the table from their various positions, with kill attempt/serious wound emotes at those gathered at the table (all of whom were senior officers/gms of the main criminal guilds). 5 emotes were sent at the same guy a gnome called Gazino Luckymist so we thought they were trying to ICly kill him.

A Pandaren in our guild called Xiu who was a smuggler jumped in the way of Gazino and was sadly killed IC. It was fun at first but then it became chaotic, with various criminal players thinking other guilds had turned on them and there was a lot of crossfire. My guild and those we were allied with tried to escape the violence while returning fire at these 'Stormwind Guards' - quite a few innocent/civilian characters were harmed, and they had the impression the whole thing was a set-up by the criminal guilds running the event. The 'Stormwind Guards' were also using buzzboxes to communicate, a practice which the PCU had frequently called fail rp in the past.

A lot of the 'Stormwind Guard' characters died because they were just throwaway NPCs attempting to cause actual damage. Then the actual guards showed up and it was an absolute shit fest. Rumours had been spread around after the event that it was the criminal guilds who organized for the 'Stormwind Guard' shootout but we never did that. That's when things seemed strange with all the rumours circulating about the organizers. My friend Sylas, the leader of one of the organizing guilds had taken note and screenshots of the 'Stormwind Guard' character names and we sat on a call and decided to alt check them. All of them had other characters in the Rotgarde, Grim Gest and Sunnyglade Ratters which we knew were PCU guilds and that is when we thought something about the whole thing stunk.

Sylas thought it was their attempt to destabilise the criminal RP scene in some weird attempt to eliminate guild leaders/officers, or to create the impression our guilds were trying to kill civilians on a massive scale. Things became more suspicious when it was revealed the only small criminal cartel guild that didn't attend was led by someone's second account main who was discovered to be this guy named Fearless on his primary account. They had moved onto the scene and had tried to influence/take things over in recent months.

A group of us officers/gms tried to talk to the PCU leadership to confront them about what the purpose of this was. We were dismissed by the PCU leadership as bad RPers who they wouldn't engage with because we RP'ed 'Peaky Blinders' in WoW. They also said it was none of their business what their members did in 'non-event times'.

So we never found out the truth, I wish we knew what their intentions were. When we spoke to other communities though apparently this had happened before. There was a memorial event in Lion's Rest for the fallen during Legion and a bunch of random thugs/northern supremacist NPCs showed up and starting attacking random attendees and turned it into a riot. Once again, said NPCs all originated from the same guilds and were throwaway characters.

It appears that your guild was subjected to a planned attempt to set up and force you out of your niche for RP. The PCU for the longest time have coveted Alliance RP but have never been able to establish themselves with any permanency there due to simply incompatible ways they operate. The only Alliance PCU guilds still standing today ( Order of Oronaar and Dirge of Teldrassil ) are highly isolated and bubbled off from other parts of the Alliance community. They have previously tried to 'take control' of the Stormwind RP scene with Stormwind City Sentry and Sunnyglade Ratters, both ran afoul with the DiCU (Royal Court et al) and ultimately the PCU were unable to wrest control.

Your involvement with them here appears to us to have been part of this takeover attempt. The PCU have sucked the life out of Horde RP and are the diehards are desperately trying to find a way to sustain themselves on the Alliance. Beware of House Bemoux and Sword of Triumph, and expect them to surface up more frequently in future as the official PCU decays into irrelevancy.

[terast]

i operate on two important philosophies about the gilnean worgens:

the fall of gilneas was nothing short of an apocalypse---the end of the world for those living within greymane's wall. you either died in a horrible and violent manner, or survived only by becoming a savage monster.

the curse (and fall) will have changed you irreparably. it doesn't matter if the consciousness of the human and worgen were eventually reunited; your senses weren't. the senses of your human form will never, and can never, be the same as your worgen form. the human may want to lie next to a roaring fire with a glass of wine and a good book. the worgen wants to hunt. the sanity of the gilnean worgen relies on the balance between these senses.

art of my worgen, Galliez, by @mr-rockadopolis

[dylan-grimmkell]

Storm, Earth, and Fire! For Worgen is badass!

HOLY SHIT the Storm Worgen Monk Spirit actually uses the Shado-Pan helm! 6 worgen Monk NPCs, but this is cool. My headcanon for Monk Dylan is having his Shado-Pan helm for his Storm Spirit is actual in-game canon!

[asharinhun]

DWC Day 6 - Hurt

TW: injuries (mainly burns)

Zhiadormi was panting as she dispatched another primalist. She came to the Azure Span in a hurry to help once she got the news that Fyrakk's minions swarmed the area. She was far from the only one, with mortals, dracthyr and even a few other dragons joined in to beat them back.

That was a few hours ago, and despite giving their all, it felt futile. No matter how many Zhia finished with her claws or shortswords, another two popped up to take the place of the fallen. No matter how many she used her time magic on to make them relieve their worst fears, the incidents that caused them the worst pain in their lives, there were still too many.

"Damn it...!"

She was too distracted to notice another primalist swinging at her, sending the bronze dragon to the ground after a hasty parry.

Before her assailant could try another attack, the swing of a familiar claymore entered her field of vision and took care of him.

"Sam!" Zhia exclaimed happily, accepting the helping hand the worgen offered to pull her up.

"Come on, did you really think I'd miss all the fun?

The sudden increase in temperature cut their reunion short.

"Weak playthings of the Titans! Burn!"

"Shit, that's Fyrakk! We must leave, now!" Samantha cursed as the massive proto-drake was getting too close for comfort.

"Leave me here. I'm too exhausted to even transform." Zhia panted after a really short run.

"No way, I'll carry you if I have to!" The worgen shifted, but jumped at the bronze dragon instead of picking her up.

A massive blast of fire shook the ground where the pair was standing previously.

They landed in a heap. Sam groaned, blinking her eye as she tried to sit up... only to find Zhia out cold and a wall of shadowflame blocking their path of escape.

She had to act fast, while the incarnate was distracted by something else.

'Shit! Maybe I could make the jump unscatched by myself, but...'

Any tree she could try to climb was already aflame. A glance at the unconscious bronze was enough to steel Sam's resolve.

She quickly wrapped Zhia in her cloak and lifted her up in her arms.

One deep breath. Two. Them jump.

Samantha screamed.

_ _ _

„Ughhh…” A groan escaped Zhiadormi as she came round. Her head was throbbing and it took effort to will her eyes open. Her left one slowly blinked, but her right wouldn’t budge.

She tried to raise a hand to check it, but found her limbs constricted. The bronze was wrapped up in a piece fo cloth, probably a cloak, like a bundle.

'Wait, this looks like Sam's... Fyrakk! Sam!'

The rush of memories would have made Zhia fall were she standing at that moment.

A whimper from her blind right made the head of the bronze snap in that direction.

Samantha was sprawled on the ground not too far from her, back in human form and breathing heavily, eye closed.

Zhia quickly freed herself and slowly staggered to the worgen's side. She had to stifle a gasp at the state of Sam's legs. The bandages were applied haphazardly and the bronze could spot burned skin peeking out here and there.

"Oh Sam..." The dragon knelt, gently wiping the sweat from the warrior's forehead.

"Ungh... Zhia...? Sorry for... the rough landing. Migh've... dropped you by... accident. Your... normal wink... suits you better." The worgen's eye flickered open, a glowed finger brushing against the bump on the bronze's eyebrow, making her wince.

"Sam, why did you do this?" Zhia ignored the jibe, asking a question instead in a pained voice, concern obvious on her face.

"Fyrakk would... have roasted us... alive. I had to try." The worgen groaned before adding "So I tried... to jump over. Almost... succeded, too."

"You're a fool, you should have left me there!"

"Nah... owe you... too many favors. Wanted to... even the scale... a bit."

Zhia just shook her head, ignoring the fresh wave of pain the action brought and cupped the worgen's cheek.

"You owed me nothing from the moment you almost died at the Temporal Conflux." She leaned in to place a kiss on Sam's forehead.

"Even so..."

"Hush now. Just rest, and I'll get you out of here after I catch my breath." Zhia kissed her cheek this time, her heart beating faster, getting a small huff and a smile in return before the worgen closed her eye again.

The bronze wanted nothing more than to use her magic to revert the time of Sam's wounds. Temporary as the solution was, it would have spared her much pain until they could find a healer. A pity she was too spent for that.

Taking her original dragon form was far less taxing, so she would shift the moment she would be able do so. Anything to get Sam proper help as soon as possible.

The wall of shadowflame still stood on the other side of the rocky outcropping Sam hid themselves behind.

Zhia sighed and returned to the worgen's side. She had a few first aid supplies as well. She took to change the old bandages and wrap the new ones properly on Samantha's legs and feet, giving the worgen a lap pillow as a reward.

"Just a few more minutes, and we will out of here." The bronze whispered while running her fingers through the warrior's hair.

"I believe you..."

@daily-writing-challenge

[clarenecessities]

idk who wow toons is but you blinked so nicely asking for asks so: 🧠 what do you like most about this thang

anon i want you to know i laughed out loud at this like a goober <3 thank you vm

i have absolutely no idea why, but 'toons' are what you call different characters on world of warcraft.

in the interest of not Drowning mobile users i'm putting most of them under a readmore but these are my three favs! sétanta, his mom seidrin, and seidrin's brother ulfhedrinn.

the thing i like most about wow toons is you can literally do whatever the fuck you want :) seidrin and ulfedrinn are children of the canonical Wild God (who came back recently! yippee!) Goldrinn, who's an enormous wolf spirit that loves being badass. so those two are technically also wolf spirits who have troll & orc visages respectively

sétanta was my first toon, he's my little baby boy. his dad is a priest of elune (who Goldrinn thinks is a pushover liberal and has no respect for) so he doesn't have a wolf spirit form/visage situation, he's just kind of recreated the worgen curse wholesale. it's awesome. and i can do what i want :) he's not like the other werewolves. he's specifically cursed.

ulfhedrinn is newer but i kind of love him. his visage is technically a Mok'Nathal orc (they're part ogre) (like Rexxar, who's literally Darkwolf from Fire and Ice) but for some reason the game won't let you do "hybrids" with "unplayable races" so whatever u know. whatever. he reproduced asexually by mixing his dna with some demon blood, which is highly inadvisable, but he was like "um no son of mine is going to be so fucking weak that Sargeras could corrupt his mind" and he was right. his son Galdrulf is basically a demon hunter (the class, not like, professionally) and sooooo fucking stupid. but he's good at fighting and loves being a badass, so he's a credit to the pack <3

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #6: Ashley

Full Name: Ashley Cindra Scorchmane Gender: Female (she/her) Race: Worgen Class: Mage Specialization: Fire Orientation: Straight (ally!) Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 39 Height: 6'11 (5'7 Human form) Voice reference: Loona - Helluva Boss Theme: Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

[BACKSTORY] (TWs for implied queerphobia and racism happening in this character's backstory)

Ashley grew up in Tirisfal Glades surrounded by the Scarlet Crusade. As a toddler, her parents were slain by rogue undead, and thus the organization took her in. Their goal with her was to raise her to be an Inquisitor of the Crusade, and so they assigned her to one Samuel Price in order to teach her their arts of interrogation. However, their methods were.. less than humane, with Inquisitor Price teaching Ashley to set alight the flesh of any the Crusade had deemed heretics until they either gave in to their ideals or died of the torture. If she protested or questioned him, she was often abused herself, and as a result, Ashley's outlook on any that disagreed with the teachings of the Crusade turned sinister quickly. She was indoctrinated to believe that those that opposed the Crusade or any of its teachings were not to be trusted, and sometimes that spread to some people's mere existences as their race or sexuality or gender orientation. After all, she was taught that they were heretics, and any accused of such that the Crusade would bring to her, once she had taken up the role of Inquisitor and grown into her own, would burn before her magic.

Except.. something went wrong. In her own perfect world of delusion existed the outside world of Tirisfal, full of monsters and harsh realities she would soon face. A wild, feral Worgen found her in the woods and sank its teeth into her. Before she could even begin to wonder how to stop the bleeding her mind and body were taken over by the Worgen curse. Her mentor, Inquisitor Price, took enough mercy on her to administer the cure to her so she could be of sound mind again. However, he also outcast her from the Crusade, and swore she would be killed on sight if she were to ever return simply for her state as a Worgen.

Ashley did the only thing she could do. She fled, running into the hills of Tirisfal, her mind still plagued by the Scarlet Crusade's indoctrination. She lived alone in the woods, surviving on her magics and only delving further into insanity.. until she met the Shadows of the Faithful.

The most notable member of the group to her was one Derek Montend, a Gilnean priest that had also previously been a sort of.. harsh person. An overabundance of Light magic crazed him and caused him to attack the Shadows of the Faithful, later returning as an ally to fix the wounds he had left behind. He saw himself in Ashley quite blatantly, and chose to help her leave her old mindset behind instead of fighting fire with fire.. literally. So, he took her in. She had to be caged at first in order to restrain her insatiable need for violence against the members of the Faithful--many of them she found disgusting and worthy of incinerating--yet slowly but surely, she began to warm up (see what I did there) to both Derek and the rest of the Faithful. She conversed with them, and found that they were simply people just like herself, and, over time, she noticed herself growing fond of quite a few of them. So, one day, when discussing the fact she still wore a Scarlet Crusade tabard, she silently made a decision.

The Scarlet Crusade had been long wiped out for a while now. Their remaining settlements were few and dwindling. Lady Whitemane was a Horseman of the Ebon Blade. Renault Mograine had been slain long ago. The Dreadlord in their midst had ruined them, and their ideologies were simply outdated in modern society. But the ruins of their hatred remained in the northern lands of the Eastern Kingdoms. Ashley journeyed into the Eastern Plaguelands, towards their old settlement on the coast near Light's Hope Chapel and Acherus's former residence. She did not enact her horrors here, but it fit well enough. She had dawned a new tabard, one still reminiscent of her firey magics and even kept a blazing symbol as a small reminder to her origins, but was orange and yellow instead, bearing new colors to represent a new era of Ashley Scorchmane. She raised her old tabard--the red and white one bearing the mark of the Crusade as well as faded bloodstains--to the podium where a preacher may have once stood, and set the tabard alight. She ripped demonizing texts from their pages and set those alight, too, keeping them locked in a permanent state of incinerations with a little arcane touch, and wrapped them around herself. The very teachings that had taught her so ruthlessly to burn those unlike her would, themselves, burn. Satisfied, she stepped back outside, and for the first time in her life-- felt the true, warm and pure embrace of the Light.

She would serve the Shadows of the Faithful as retribution for her past actions and philosophies--just as Derek Montend had done.

[THOUGHTS]

WHEW, personally I fucking love this girl's development! She only had her redemption moment recently and I would argue there's still a long way for her to go to truly balance out everything she's done, but I absolutely adore this spoicy little ball of hatred that evolved into a warmer, happier and friendlier gal. She even knitted a little pride mug warmer for Rachel qwq

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed! I sure enjoy writing these, so :D

[fictosensuality]

Genn Greymane x F! OC

Worgen are really hot.

King Genn Greymane had come dangerously close to losing his life this day. Had Anduin not been there to save him just in the nick of time...

He had not shifted back into the form of a man the entire journey back to Stormwind, finding comfort in the form of a beast. As he and Anduin approached Stormwind keep he lumbered forward on the legs of a wolf, wounded but stubbornly refusing healing from all but one. Crescent Greymane, his young wife. As they entered the keep she bounded towards him, having been eagerly awaiting his return all day. Ignoring the people who tried to approach the two kings to discuss political affairs and matters of war, she ran at him, barefoot, her long skirts billowing behind her and golden curls bouncing. Genn could look at no one but her and he thought in this moment that she looked like an angel, like the holy Light itself personified. She embraced him as much as she could, being considerably smaller than him. The top of her head reached the center of his chest as she pressed herself against him, grabbing fistfuls of his fur in her small hands. Genn lifted her up, cradling her close to his face no matter how much the weight of her strained a wound on his shoulder. He lapped at her face and neck like a dog reunited with its owner, tail wagging eagerly as she giggled and scratched at his chin and behind his ears. Those who wished to speak to him gave up and resigned to try again later, it was obvious all of his attention would be on the maiden he clutched to his chest, at least until tomorrow.

"I missed you so dearly Cres..." Genn said in his deep, rough voice, sniffing at her body and savoring the familiar scent of her

"I thought of you every day and dreamed of you every night. I knew I would not fall, not until I'd held you in my arms again." he squeezed her body tightly, but she did not mind the pressure and rather relished in it. 

"I missed you too Genn. And I knew you'd come back to me." Cres said, stroking her hand through the fur of his cheek and he leaned into her touch.

"Now, let's go up to our room, I know you need patching up." she said good-naturedly. Genn gruffed his reply and put Cres over his shoulder, holding her there with one large clawed hand across her ass and making his way to their room. 

Cress stitched up his wounds, cleaned them, scrubbed clumps of dried blood from his fur and soothed him with her healing abilities. It was difficult to get him to sit still long enough to be healed however, as he took every opportunity to lick or sniff her or run his large paws all over her body.

"You're too impatient." she chided as she bent down to kiss a wound she had just finished bandaging. 

"Cres." his voice was stern and he grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look into his wild yellow eyes. He was panting and almost drooling as he looked down at her. He looked less like her lover, her King and more like a wild animal. A beast from the deepest forests of Azeroth come to claim her.

"I need you." he growled. 

Cres frowned and brought her hands up to his face, trying to soothe the fire in him to no avail. 

"I've needed you since the day you left, but you're hurt and we should wait. I'm afraid your injuries-"

"Injuries be dammed!" he barked, not letting her finish and shoving his paws under her dress, pushing it upwards enough to expose her pussy and ass. His claws tore at the delicate fabric of the dress and scratched at her soft skin as he kissed her forcefully, his maw clumsy and awkward against her soft lips, all fangs and slobber which ran down her chin as well as his. She opened her mouth to him and he wasted no time shoving his tongue into it, overwhelming her. She delighted in being suffocated by him. He picked her up and threw her down on their bed like a doll, ripping away the shredded remains of her dress. He buried his face between her legs and inhaled deeply, becoming almost drunk on the scent of his lover's arousal. He lapped at her cunt furiously, her clit, her entrance, no part of her was left untouched by his large, wet tongue. As he devoured her he reached down between his own legs to grasp his large, red cock, unsheathed and dripping with need already. He drank in the taste of her, the smell, the sound of her whimpering and mewling until he could stand it no longer. He sat up and grabbed her hips, deftly flipping her over onto her stomach. Cres knew what to do, having been bred by him many times before. She got on her knees and grabbed at the headboard in front of her, gripping it and bracing herself. Genn grabbed her hips, claws digging into her as he shoved his entire length into her in one harsh thrust. He threw back his head and practically howled and Cres cried out in pleasure and pain, legs quivering already. 

"G-Gods Genn.." Cres struggled, her voice strained. Genn gave her no time to adjust to his length as he leaned forward, his large body surrounding her like a warm blanket as he thrusted in and out of her as fast as he could. He pulled her into him with every thrust, lifting her off of the bed, using her body as if she were a toy. Cres's moans and cries were lost beneath the animalistic groans and growls Genn let out as he fucked her ruthlessly. He bit into her shoulder, digging his fangs into her hard enough to draw blood, drool spilling out and dripping all over her, growling low in his throat as he tasted her blood. His breath came in hot huffs against her neck and Cres lost her grip on the bed, pleasure making her feel like her body had turned to jelly. Genn released his grip on her with one of his paws and wrapped it around her chest, squeezing her breasts and pulling her to him. Tears ran down Cres' face, saliva from her lips, the noises she made were guttural, visceral. Genn suddenly stopped thrusting and Cres could feel him knotting her, the feeling making her toes curl and making her shiver with euphoria.

"I love you Cres, I love you so much..." Genn cooed, licking her face, lapping up her tears and spit and rubbing her body gently as he laid down on his side, hooking one of her legs over his hip as they remained connected. Cres was panting heavily as she reached behind her to scratch at his chin.

"I love you too Genn..." she said when she caught her breath enough to speak

When Genn had finished, filling her to the point of overflowing he shifted back into a man finally. He laid on his back and ran his fingers through his hair, thoroughly spent. Cres touched the mark on her shoulder and smiled. The scratches, bruises and bite marks that came with loving a worgen were part of the fun.