Who a King Must Do Ch. 27

It had been a wonderful fest. Orcs, draenei, arakkoa, ogers, and the many other races of Draenor had all come together to drink and sing to the end of the Burning Legion on their world. The alcohol was flowing in rough amounts, the food was delicious and prepared in the manifold traditions of all clans and tribes, the songs put forward by the most talented bards any people had to offer.

It had, indeed, been a wonderful fest.

Right up until Yrel had begun her speech. It started harmless. She simply put forward the usual niceties, toasted to their victory. Even without raising her voice too loudly, she easily became the centre of attention. The High Exarch had that kind of draw, almost everything about her drew the eyes of others too her.

She was a draenei with white hair, naturally styled into bangs that parted on the right side, fell and curved down to her neckline, in which the sunlight seemed to linger, giving it's a blonde touch at times. The mark of the Naaru, a pink runic formation of light, hovered in front of her forehead, between the bases of her screwed, long horns. Adding to that her immense beauty, fair skin of a light blue tint, high-cheekbones, a fine nose and sultry purple lips, and it would be no understatement that, even now, many of the more savage elements around would have gladly dragged her into a dark corner and had their way with her.

However, fit to her curves, from the medium sized bosom down to the round ass, she wore a heavy plate armour of gold and silver, outfitted with many enchanted gems of a pink colour. If the ease in which she moved in this wasn't enough deterrent, the massive Warhammer of the same crystal would surely do the trick.

People that had been stuck fascinating about taming this wild, unclaimed women had soon been snapped from their fantasies when Yrel began talking about unifying all of Draenor under the Light. The fervour in her voice, the conviction with which she spoke of visions of the perfect planet. With every sentence her speech continued, the other draenei fervently shouted their agreement. Radiance grew in the shape of holy wings behind her.

Grommash Hellscream watched this entire thing, drinking grimly from his horn. "Have we just exchanged the unholy madmen for the holy ones?" he grumbled, already wondering how he would answer this. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit.

"I feel her words carry some truth to them, father," answered the bald orc next to him. Like his old man, the younger Hellscream had a massive body and an unbreakable will. His name was Garrosh, after the time traveller that had come to warn them of the Legion corruption over twenty years ago. Following that orcs demise, Gul'dan had told Grommash that it had been his very own son. Back then, the warchief had just thought it an attempt to confuse him. Nowadays, the parallel's in their looks were undeniable.

As unbreakable his will may have been, that didn't mean it couldn't be put into the wrong path. "Be careful what ideas you follow," Grommash warned his flesh and blood.

"Like you, who butchered thousands over the advice of the deceiver you named me after?" Garrosh returned with a dismissive glance. The comment stung, but Grommash had never been able to put across his side of the story in a way his son understood. Again, he was a fighter, not a diplomat. Neither was the young Garrosh aware that another history of himself had been that deceiver. It was a truth too difficult to put across and Grommash himself knew too little.

"Will you join us, warchief?" Yrel suddenly turned to the two orcs, extending her hand. The Light illuminated her with grace and justice. Things that could very quickly turn into divine wrath. Grommash reached out to Gorehowl, his trusty axe, ready for a fight. His son, however, grinned, the decorative metal pierced into his teeth silently clunking against one another. He had always desired Yrel and the Light sounded much stronger than those basic shamanistic rituals his clans called magic anyhow.

Garrosh Hellscream was ready to take the offer, become an Exarch and join the Naaru in their divine conquest of this world, when a sudden commotion broke out in the massive crowd.

A person approached, of a kind that hadn't been seen on Draenor in twenty years. Pale, with blonde hair, small and slim, at least by orc standards, a weak looking thing, presumably a man. To this assortment of savages, the only impressive thing about him was his armour, a thing that rivalled Yrel's in craftsmanship, but with more sinister undertones mixed into the otherwise holy design.

Anduin was alone, at least physically. 'Is this the one?' he asked K'ara. Due to a lack of functioning legs, and to compete with Xal'atath in some fashion (same master aside, there was still a natural rivalry between them) the Naaru had asked to take possession of Shalamayne. This way, she too could be carried within Anduin's void space.

'Indeed, master, this is High Exarch Yrel...' K'ara answered.

"A human," Yrel spoke, her accent emphasizing the Rs through a soft variation in tone as she continued. "It has been a long time since one of you graced this world. On this fateful day no less. Are you the champion K'ara wanted to summon?"

"In many ways, I am," Anduin answered, his gaze wandering over to Garrosh, who seemed somehow annoyed with the interruption. "I would say that my presence here is more by accident, then by divine grace, however. Yet, I must tell you, that this crusade you plan is unjust."

Garrosh grunted mockingly. "A whelp trying to tell HER what is just?!" he screamed and wrestled, from his father's hands, Gorehowl. Within moments, he had climbed over the festive table and charged the High King. Yrel watched this approvingly, taking it as a sign of Garrosh's purity. "PROVE YOURSELF INVADE- AAARRGGH!" The young Hellscream was slapped aside like a fly by a void tentacle.

'You are getting better at the summoning, Anduin,' Xal'atath complimented. 'We might be able to move onto some more advanced creatures next. A C'thraxxi is a bit much, but a basic N'raqi might be possible soon.'

The people around were less enthused over this usage of Shadow magic. Indeed, all draenei grabbed their weapons in all haste, circling Anduin. As they menacingly stepped closer to the relaxed king, K'ara manifested. Although her stay in the void had cleaned her of the signs of coitus, the fleshmade Naaru was still naked. She didn't mind the gazes of the people around, however. As her master's property, the only eyes that mattered were his.

"Show respect, young ones!" the lightforged demanded, unable to hold herself back any longer.

Yrel immediately recognized the voice that had counselled her through so many years. "K'ara? By the Light, what has happened to you? Why would you take a shape lesser than your divine crystal?"

"Because my new master has revealed to me the truth," the Naaru answered with more hot-headedness than her kind should have been able to. "Maybe this shape is faulty and has desires of impurity, but these things make me feel truly alive. To forsake them in the name of perfection would be to forsake progress and happiness. Yrel, I was wrong, cease this crusade now, our sins are already too heavy!"

"Already?" Grommash asked, hearing the implication that something had been done.

He was ignored, just like his son, who slowly fought himself to his feet again, Anduin had no time to spare on them, not before the situation was resolved. Yrel thought the same thing, only honouring the warchief with a side-glance of her blue glowing eyes. "K'ara... it pains me to hear this," she said in a defeated voice. "It is evident you have been corrupted. May you rest in the knowledge that your true will is going to be enacted by my hand!" the High Exarch's golden wings flared up with the just wrath of an angel.

Anduin still stood relaxed as the draenei forces around closed in on him. "Let me solve this," the High King said and put a hand on her shoulder. The golden haired dranei transformed into the shape of Shalamayne. The always impressive longsword now had a blade of golden crystal, shining with the purest Light. As Anduin raised it, it spread all around his form, engulfing him and his surroundings in an illuminating shine that consumed that of Yrel in its girth.

She may have been an angel, but Anduin was the sun.

Even though confused as to how this man, who had wielded such potent Shadow magic, could also wield such radiance, the draenei knew but one reaction to such clear purity of ambition and might. They fell to their knees as one. Yrel, in her highest fervour, quicker than everyone else.

"I am sorry," she immediately apologized upon the Light waning. "My doubts have been obviously misplaced."

Anduin once more realized the dangers of such loyalty to one of those ideological forces. If all it took for them to change sides was for someone to prove their dominance in the field, then the people following those creeds were little more than smart tools. Not sure how to change that, but knowing full well that it was best that he wielded those tools for the moment, Anduin stepped towards the kneeling High Exarch.

"Tell everyone what you have done, what you have ordered," Anduin demanded, having learned every last secret from K'ara.

Yrel was easily obedient. "Over the last week, we have begun our conversion of the Shadowmoon clan. As those who tainted K'ara originally, used her as the so called Dark Star, we figured they had to be eliminated first."

"WHAT?!" Grommash rose screaming from his seat, grabbing the weapon that was luckily no longer there. The warchief looked around, in the turmoltous fest of tens of thousands of people, he hadn't noticed that this one particular clan had been missing entirely.

"They refused," Anduin noted.

"Indeed, they did," Yrel nodded graciously, radiating no shame. "Those who refused were slaughtered."

"That is... RAAAAAH!" the warchief clenched his fists and with a valiant warcry charged at the kneeling High Exarch. The old orc's furious attack bounced back from a magical shield of light. "WHO ARE YOU, MEDDLING HUMAN?!" he demanded to know.

"High King Anduin Llane Wrynn of the Alliance," the same answered. "And I ask you to be patient. I will punish them."

"Punish?" Yrel asked, raising her head, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "As a peerless master of the Light, you should know that..."

"Do not lecture me, Yrel," Anduin snapped back and put a hand on her head, clawing into her skin. "You already saw that I am more than a master of the Light. Now witness TRUTH!" A swirling mixture of purple and golden light erupted from the fanatics eyes when she was suddenly pumped full of energy by Anduin. Not memories, knowledge, knowledge he derived from Xal'atath and K'ara equally. The end states of either states of beings. Justification arose in the draenei when she saw what the void was capable of, then horror when she realized the endgame of the Light was none the better.

When the despair of the High Exarch reached its peak, Anduin pulled his hand back. Heavily breathing, Yrel slumped to the ground, now knowing of all her sins. "How... how can we atone?!" she asked. "How can we find redemption, master of Light and Shadow?"

Anduin looked around. Grommash stared intensely through the barrier, bloodlust written plainly on his very being. While he would have suggested that they would aid these people normally, he was certain that they would simply be slaughtered wholesale. Orcs were savages, as proven time and time again, and could not be trusted to deliver justice. He couldn't stay here to ensure that it would happen either. His obligations were with his own world.

"I will take them back to my timeline, my Azeroth," Anduin answered therefore, with the best solution he had in mind. Of course, it was only just to take the guilty and compliant once. Given the draenei tendencies, he was pretty certain that covered every last of them on Draenor. "You will have your entire world to populate as you see fit."

"And their punishment?" Grommash grunted. "I can fuck this world to give birth to a thousand new clans without you, after I slaughtered all of them. Tell me what their punishment will be! They just begun their little crusade and already killed more than the Burning Legion did in the last twenty years!"

"Not more than you, Warchief of the Iron Horde," Anduin's answer came like a whiplash. "And your punishment has been the very same leadership that led to the death of many innocents." Grommash's brown skin darkened as he flushed with rage. Before he could throw yet another insignificant punch, the High King did give him an answer. "However, I will punish them. The draenei of this generation will serve as slaves. Those who can fight, will fight for me, those who can serve, will serve my people."

Garrosh laughed as limped closer, the tentacle slap from earlier having obviously hurt him. "What kind of servitude would that be?! Will they give you tasty treats and cook for you, whelp?"

"They will be slaves," Anduin answered simply. "To fulfil every desire we have. The subsequent generation will be given the choice to return to the leadership of Velen in my timeline."

"Every desire, like a grunt like you can go through with that," Garrosh continued to mock, searching for a way to break through this shield, save Yrel and use that as leverage to claim that draenei ass for himself.

Grommash was already further than his son. He realized that the High King was every bit the man he appeared to be. A whole generation of slavery was an adequate punishment, although he wasn't aware that slaves weren't treated like trash in the harem society of Stormwind. Had he known that the draenei would be not be tormented with endless, unthankful tasks, but instead live in a civilization richer than all orc clans combined, he would have been less enthused.

As it was, the warchief only saw an adequate punishment and an opportunity to humble his son. "Prove it," Grommash challenged. "Prove to us all that you will make them slaves to your every desire."

Anduin raised an eyebrow, but shrugged dismissively. "As you want," his armour and weapon disappeared, leaving him naked. The ease with which he did that surprised everyone around. "Strip," he commanded Yrel. The savages around whistled anticipatingly, while the draenei, listening to authority but not in the know about their leaders (Naaru and High Exarch) revelations, were shocked by this development.

"I... is this truly necessary, master of..." Yrel started but stopped talking when Anduin grabbed her by one of her horns. He dragged her from the high table down to some sort of primitive fighting pit where show-fights must have been held earlier today. The fine sand under his feet felt nice to Anduin, but for Yrel it was a nuisance that streamed into the cracks in her armour as she was pulled through and then tossed in the very middle of the arena.

Everyone had a clear view on them now. The muscular king circled around her as she recovered from the involuntary movement. Suddenly, she felt not like a High Exarch anymore, but like the helpless girl dragged into the mines in Tanaan so many years ago. She had felt nothing but wrath for her unclean capturers back then.

With this being of sun-like radiance, it was different. Something about feeling weak it... It excited her. It was suddenly very hot inside her armour, especially between her legs.

Anduin was well aware of that. He had read her sexual preferences, even those she herself didn't know about, from her mind when he had revealed the truth to her. She had a submissive streak, one she didn't know about because none had ever been stronger than her without being also a brutal murderer. If she hadn't, Anduin would have searched for a draenei in the crowd that had that characteristic instead.

Although he had to make it look like a punishment for the savage crowd, Anduin didn't want to cause anyone discomfort, much worse rape anybody. The loss of their agency for the rest of their life would be punishment enough, he didn't need to become as bad as them and have them suffer unnecessarily.

"Strip," he therefore commanded again. He knew himself well enough that any submissive streak was amplified immensely by his dominating presence. That he was leading by example, prowling proudly around her in his own birthday suit, would hopefully help her as well.

"Y-yes," her voice quivered, not out of shame but out of uncertainty about how to deal with the new lust stirring within her. "Master of..."

"Just, master!" he scolded her. "Stop talking and STRIP!"

"Yes, master!" she hastily answered, the proud High Exarch gathered herself, kneeling upright, and began undoing her armour with elegance. A sudden smack on her face threw her back into the sand. The pulsation on her cheek was less hot than that between her legs. She had never, ever felt this way before. For the first time in her life, desire for a man burned in her pussy. However, her upbringing still caused her to ask, "What did I do wrong?"

Anduin through a bolt of shadow magic at her. It caused her body to convulse in a fashion that seemed painful, but was really designed to only hurt in harmless, erotically enticing ways. "You only get to say 'I am sorry, master' when I tell you, you did something wrong!" Anduin shouted, to the applause of everyone around but Garrosh, who was watching another man do what he would have wanted to do, but was too weak for. "But just because this is your initiation, I will tell you. You are a slave now! When I ask you to strip, you don't get to do it in any noble fashion. You get naked as quickly as you can so I can do with your body what I please!"

"YEAH, LISTEN TO THE MAN!" an ogre screamed. "Strip, you arrogant light-slut!" an orc woman agreed. The savage crowd was now entirely on Anduin's side, even Grommash was grinning, only Garrosh was staring with disbelief. Anduin only had to keep it this way. He would save countless lives and eliminate a lot of future conflicts if he could take these draenei to a world more civilized and showed them how to not become extremist for the cause of the Light.

"STRIP! STRIP! STRIP!" the crowd was chanting as one now and Yrel finally followed the order. She felt oddly elated about this, her body was light as a feather, as if she was dreaming something wonderful. Despite the prickling pain still in her body, in the left side of her face in particular.

'No, not despite,' it slowly dawned on her, as she raised her hand to the clasp on the neck of her armour. 'I feel like the light itself is blessing me with pleasure... yet... this is so impure.'

An impurity that the man before her also possessed and he was the brightest beacon to ever be graced by her eyes. He had convinced a Naaru, what shame would there be in giving in to him herself?

As commanded, she now stripped in all haste. Plate was ripped off in almost panicked motions, tossed and left in the sand. Segment for segment, she revealed her leather undercloth, which she then peeled out of. Her breasts came into view first, to the encouraging roar of the people of Draenor. Perky, firm things, with dark blue nipples.

Nipples hard from excitement, as everyone would soon realize. Anduin couldn't have that. This was supposed to be public punishment. "You're taking too long!" he shouted, once more grabbing her horns, this time to drag her face first into the dust. "Stay down," he commanded as he got behind her, tits hidden for the moment. He had an inkling that he would have to quickly hide something else in a moment.

Indeed, when he ripped down her leather pants, he was presented with a sight nobody could name anything but 'willing'. Her short tail was raised, hiding none of her crotch. Her firm, round ass was flush with excitement, neatly trimmed white hair decorated a glistening wet pussy. Even her asshole seemed to twitch in wait.