The Feud Ch. 04: Finale

Anadia rose to the tips of her toes splayed her ass proudly. She tried her best to work whatever muscles would squeeze upon Victor's tool—even rocking her body back into him. She took him as deep as he would go, more than she had in any other fashion. Thoughts of Staci excited her. Out of friends, out of favors, she'd be forced to fall to her knees and open her mouth. The blood elf returned to massaging her clit, pondering the thought of her own reputation being destroyed as well.

With every thrust of his member, her victories and past successes were erased in the eyes of the crowd, and soon very parts of Anadia began to disappear. She was transformed from combat prodigy to common whore - and she loved it. They could take it all, all of it away from her. It was never hers to begin with, all of it illicitly gained. She savored the slim chance that Staci would be mistaken for her on the streets, that she would be stripped bare, that men would crowd around to fuck 'the easiest elf in Dalaran'. It would be a small compensation. Anadia did not belong in this arena. The obscured and painful memories of her friends lingered beyond her arousal, but the trickle of precum from the warlock's tip was enough to numb her. The huntress was no more.

The sensation of girth exiting her anal cavity ripped her from her realizations and self-observation. She was torn from the crates and forced down onto the ground with in a shoving motion. Sound returned to her ears as she looked up at Victor, who looked and sounded as if he were hauling the massive load she was promised. His face was flushed. His muscled arms strained as he gripped his throbbing, veined cock. His hand moved like a blur up and down the shaft. At long last, Anadia would have her fel energy, and would be reborn again. She opened her mouth expectantly and shut her eyes, her ears filling with the sound of all those who had come to watch her fight, booing her, booing like a loud, long, mournful howl for the combatant that died today. What she had done. What she had become.

Anadia tried hard not to think of all the elves she had displaced and only of the blessed gift she was about to receive. Her tongue rolled out onto her lip and she tilted her head back, unwilling to let even the smallest amount of Victor's precious seed be wasted. His sighs and grunts grew louder, his stroking slowed. The blood elf reached up to cup his balls, rolling them gently against her fingers for a moment before they to began to tense and draw closer to his body. Anadia was so desperately eager to taste his undiluted cum—she had waited too long, fallen too far now to not be rewarded with her ultimate vice.

A strained silence came from Victor, and a hot, sappy splattering against her cheeks, over her eyelids, her nose, onto her forehead, in her hair. It was hot, it was thick, and none of it was on-target. Her discomfort was apparent on her face, she whimpered with disdain. The gooey essence seeped off of her jaw and onto her shoulder, her chest, and the floor. "No—no!" Anadia cried. She trembled in terror and rage. Words could not form causing her lips to quiver and her teeth to grind. All that she had sacrificed, all that she gone through, all that she had endured was for naught.

A final spurt had laid itself over one of her elongated ears, what she thought was a final insult, but Victor, in all of his gall and nerve, took her long tussled hair and used it to wiped his dick clean before discarding it like a used tissue. His sweat-glistened body flexed in magnificent success, and he raised his fists in triumph.

"FOR THE ALLIANCE!"

Anadia looked on with despair and a mask of semen. She wiped her eyes and turned them toward the ceiling. She did not speak Common, but she knew the sounds well and understood their meaning. Above them, a great echoing of his words could be heard in celebration, a tremendous crash like the rattling of earth around them. All those of the Horde who had clashed steel on the battleground with that filth knew their battlecry, every orcish warrior or elven ranger who had the fortune of eluding death knew the chorus of their defeat—but Anadia would neither die nor merely survive this day.

"You soulless bastard!" she growled with a voice beyond that of her own. On her knees, Anadia might no longer be a gladiator, and without her tools, she might no longer be a huntress, but even without Errog or Firemane at her side, Anadia had sworn an oath to the Horde, and she would always have her word. Before Victor had wizened to her frenzied state, she reached up and ripped his spellblade out of its sheath. It was imbalanced and cumbersome, but heavy enough to do the job - she swung wide, and the human could not retreat in time.

It was quiet, it was quick, and for all the blood that covered her, Anadia had thought she had severed an artery. She had not aimed to kill, only dismember, and by that definition she was successful. The vile fluid that painted her body was richer in fel than anything she had ever been given willingly.

Baptized with blood.

Reborn in red.

Anadia was a member of the Horde once again - Victorious.

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In one of the many windblown spires of the Violet Citadel, Vereesa sat within a cushioned seat, idly tracing a finger around her second glass of elven wine. She had little interest in nursing it for yet another half hour, even in the company of the charming dwarven bartender; a brunette whose jovial compliments and casual gossip she would reward with a gracious tip. She valued the distraction, but it did not cause the grandfather clock against the stone wall to accelerate at all. Aethas Sunreaver would be coming before the eleventh hour, but he was not a welcome guest to this sanctum.

The sound of a shaken cocktail provided an ambient tune for the highly decorated hall. Violet drapes bearing the eyes of the Kirin Tor appeared to keep the Icecrown chill from creeping through the walls, but she knew magic kept it out, just as it was responsible for the purity of the wine she drank, the quality of the clothes she wore, and for the innumerable other perks of calling Dalaran home. "Magic..." she pondered aloud, fueled by mana just as much as she and her people were.

She grasped the glass and twisted it between her pale fingers, ruminating. Was it mana that made that Sin'dorei girl behave that way? She never had the opportunity to ask. Vereesa's encounters with blood elves had been all too frequent since they had taken residence in the city, but she had never seen one act like that. Was that sluttiness a common part of their identity, or a lapse in personal judgment? What if her actions had a purpose? What motive would be worthy enough for a gladiator to throw away her reputation, her future, and potentially her life?

The answers eluded her, but Vereesa had learned long ago that the things that the things that escaped her ultimately didn't matter. Some matters were not her business to understand.

An armored figure of red, gold, and gray appeared within the entryway at the far end of the room. She finished her glass quickly, letting the sweet, dry liquid fill her stomach with even more fire. Aethas Sunreaver was beset by two near-clones of himself. He could never hope to take her on his own. Perhaps it was a force of ranger habit, but Vereesa had deliberately distanced herself from the door to inconvenience him. Watching him and his Sunreaver guards dance their way around the tables gave her a wry smile, and he faltered beneath it like a boy asking a pretty girl to the ball. He nearly knocked a chair over by the time he arrived.

Vereesa was practically beaming with restrained laughter. Aethas summoned composure, and with a breath, carefully paced through his words. It was all for the better. If his voice cracked, she might burst.

"Ranger General Vereesa," he began, growing less steady with each word thereafter, "I have come to take you into custody, as p-per to—"

"A glass of wine to calm your nerves, Archmage?"

"—To take you into custody, as per to the conditions set forth and agreed upon—"

"Yes," Vereesa said, standing taller than even him without her boots. She discarded the smile. She hoped the not too embarrass him too badly in front of his subjects. "The winner of the arena match as determined by the side that kills the other in combat, I am keenly aware."

Aethas's eyes were hidden beneath his metallic-looking headgear, but his chin lifted with confidence. "Then I accept your surrender, Ranger General."

"And why would I do that?" Vereesa asked, folding her arms, "The conditions have not been met."

"You speak of—"

"The warlock who yet lives in the infirmary. In our infirmary," she reiterated, "and while he may not make a complete recovery, he will not be succumbing to his most unfortunate wound. I have placed him under heavy guard to ensure it, so spare yourself the trouble of paying him a visit."

"You insult me as much as you mock yourself—he fell in combat!" Aethas hissed, "In effect, he lost—you lost the match!"

Vereesa was unwilling to hear another word of his nonsense. "If he stipulations call for a battle to the death, Aethas—"

"He fell in combat!" Aethas snarled over her.

"You call that combat?! I think combat ended when—"

"He could not fight on!"

"—your combatant spread her legs and—"

"The only elf still breathing in that arena was a Sin'dorei, even you can't deny that!"

"And what a beautiful example you selected to represent your race! A fel mana addict, who saw it better strategy to wrap her hands around a cock than a weapon! To get on her knees than to die with dignity."

Aethas paused. "Victor was hardly a helpless victim in the matter! We are well aware of Anadia Springfire's display and own up to it, but—"

"Your Champion's display, Aethas! Be proud of your people! They have so much to revere!"

Vereesa's caustic tone was normally beneath her, but tonight she happened to find it at the bottom of the wineglass.

"We have taken her sister, who was her sponsor and confidant, into custody for the damages done to our cause, and seek Anadia for questioning."

Vereesa's eyebrows raised. "You 'seek Anadia for questioning.'" She could hear his tiny heart pitter-patter beneath his armor. "Because you cannot find her."

The air was pregnant with tension. Unsurprisingly, Aethas was the first to break under the silence, but rather than make excuses, his voice darkened, "What do you know, Ranger General?"

"I know she did the Quel'dorei a great service today. Really, who would agree to join your ranks now? And for that, we express our gratuity by not evicting your people from Dalaran."

"This is outrageous. This is an affront. Mark this moment, for the full might of the HORDE will rain down upon you!"

Vereesa laughed haughtily, "Surely you jest, Sunreaver. Why would they risk all-out war, let alone their lives just to acquire a few more blood elves? To take an outdated tourist city in a cold, scourge-blighted land that no longer has any strategic value or relevance? I doubt it."

Aethas clenched his fist.

"And if you try to make a move for your weapon, just remember whose company you keep."

The locking of a crossbow rang out from over the bar, the ponytailed barkeep holding it in a ready-to-fire position. Across from her, a pair of human mages emerged into visibility, each battle-ready and faced toward the blood elves.

"You and your people are guests here. Let it remain that way, for their sake."

Aethas' choice was easily made, and his words carefully chosen. The Feud came to an end.

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Waves shattered against the hull of the Bravery, causing the wood to croak and creak as it pushed back against the might of the Great Sea.

Anadia could not hear it.

The scent of saltwater on oak mingled with that of burnt kerosene from hanging lamps, filling the sleeping quarters of captain, sailor, and stowaway alike.

Anadia could not smell it.

Rapping gently against the walls was a broad portrait of mountainous landscape, a tasteful accoutrement to the bounty of books that encircled the presently-occupied captain's quarters.

Beyond the ruffled black fur of the worgen above her, Anadia could not see it.

For a moment there was weightlessness, and the Bravery smacked down onto the icy waters again, sending the small library tumbling onto the floor, but all that Anadia felt were her hosts. The roaring ocean and groaning of the ship was the perfect mask for their hedonistic symphony. Flesh slapped against flesh as the pair of taut-bodied wolf-men sandwiched her between them. They could scarcely contain their grunts of pleasure, and some explaining—or bragging—would likely be warranted to the crew upon docking. There were few words to describe the seemingly unending thrusting and retreating that she experienced at their claws: Full, perhaps. Whole.

As they synced, Anadia's moan turned into a throaty howl of her own. Her heels clung to the back of the worgen's haunches as she ascended to another orgasm, their knotted members hitting on all the right places in succession like a key to a lock. She lost her grip on his leathery flesh and laid down onto the strong, fur-laden chest of the one beneath her. It was he who took her breasts with his talonesque hands and nurturingly upheld them for his brother to sate himself. The long tongue rolled out from the top worgen's mouth and curled itself around her nipples, though the sensation was a meager cherry atop the cake. Her body rocked and shuddered. For all the rippling waves of ecstasy, it felt as though the very boat had crashed into the rocky coast of Durotar and continued its journey on land.

Numbness spread through her toes and fingers as her blood seemed to recede from every limb like receding waves. All of the sudden it rolled back again, leaving her incredibly warm all over, soaking wet from sweat, saliva, and primal secretion. Anadia was too empty-minded that she, at first, scarcely noticed the fact that the two beast-men were working themselves to their own climaxes.

"Gilneans are such gentleman," she remarked in elvish whisper, "The lady always comes first." Attempting to grab hold of the lover above her, she made the mistake of peeking at his face—their bright yellow eyes never ceased to make her skin crawl, and she made an earnest effort to avoid sharing another gaze. The animal beneath her had no reservation against treating her like meat, nipping on her ear as his hairy arms descended onto her hips, steadying her ass for better penetration. Still, it was the one atop her who was the first to let loose his seed, pouring cum unto her womb and plugging the exit with the swollen head of his animal-prick.

It was Anadia's second serving from them and she had almost completely forgotten that one of these unseasoned refugees was a warlock—let alone whichever one it was. In spite of this post-orgasmic haze, the dose of fel-tinged semen was as invigorating as a potent cup of coffee, and her nerve endings all tingled to life in that instant. It was convenient that her body would reawaken this way, as it was merely seconds that she would feel the second worgen unloading within her ass, decorating its interior with hot spurts of the sticky-sweet essence. There was something very empowering about squeezing the last of it out of him. Even if he had brought her satisfaction, it was Anadia's body that had brought him around for a second time, and then slayed him yet again.

Removing the worgen was hardly a simple matter. Their cockheads were hefty, thick, and bulbous, and Anadia was sore. She winced through the pressure and pushed them out one after the other, spilling their fluids onto the bedspread below. Panting like dogs, the men collapsed onto the coarse linen sheets. If they had to be disposed of after this, it would be doing the Captain a favor. Anadia already missed the silks sheets of Silvermoon.

They would never grace her skin again.

Rising to the balls of her feet, the elf stretched with all the vigor of a morning's rise. The sun, too, would rise soon - she could see the violet, red, and honey yellow upon the horizon. When it did, it would do away with the storm that rocked the vessel. She would sail on peaceful waters and arrive to greet a new day in Kalimdor. In the eyes of her people she was no longer a blood elf, but in her own vague reflection on the window, she saw something more.

Anadia had grown, and as a seed grows into the sprout, so too did she shed the expectations set upon on her. As a sprout breaks free from the topsoil, so too did she break free from shadow of her sister and shed her family name. As a stem blossoms leaves, so too did Anadia grab the daggers from her pile of clothes; their weight and maneuverability felt so natural that it inspired her in a way no bow ever had. So, as a rose pricks careless children, she, too, shed the blood of the unwary worgen.

Anadia was in full bloom, no longer bound by the reputation that forced her destiny, no longer burdened by the guilt of 'addiction', but instead reborn anew. Naked and stained with blood, she would never again be a champion of the Sunreavers or the Sin'dorei, but as the rich sunrise colored the room a burning gold and cast her shadow ahead, a new path became clear.

From that moment on, Anadia would be her own champion.

THE END

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Author's notes: I know I've lost a significant portion of my readers through the time it's taken me to write this, but I would sincerely express my gratitude to all of you who have read and enjoyed this story to its conclusion, and more-so to those of you who taken the time to vote and provide feedback on my writing. I am thrilled to say that I will now be undertaking a new adventure and applying the many things I've learned from writing the Feud to a world of my own design. From the bottom of my heart to the keyboard in front of me, thank you ALL for allowing me to guide you through this journey and the growth of Victor and Anadia.

Now go find something else to get off to! :D

P.S. Poor Victor. I desperately wanted him to have closure with Thelise, and tried to make some pre-match shower meetup happen to redeem and balance his story time out with Anadia's, but it didn't work. At all. The characters just wouldn't click, and I regrettably didn't give him the supporting cast Anadia had. Thelise despised him too much and 'forcing anything' to happen would have just made the match go even worse for them both. Characters really take on a life of their own! I will miss them all so, so much. For those of you who nabbed their names (I see you redhaired Anadia Hunters!), thank you for allowing them to live on as your toons! :)