Drusul had vastly underestimated the power-position he thought he had, he mentally admitted as the footing he depended so dearly on was viciously robbed away from him.<br/><br/>Drusul – wide eyed, surprised and puzzled Drusul – attempted to halt his downward descent through the magical gateway to his untimely encounter with Lady Pain; forgetting everything about the juicy boobs of his has-been-victim, his elbows collided with the parts of the floor not affected by Ruhzelils state-changing incantation. But where he many times came out ontop with his sheer bulky brawn, the very weight that gave him such edge directly fought against him.<br/><br/>His arms folded upwards like a swan folding its wings, and for a split second this seven-feeted, twenty-two inched giant was swallowed languidly by the mischiefs of Ruhzelil. Another split second later, Drusul had returned to the land of the living, giving a nearby table a pleasant greetings by shearing it clean in two in a shower of cracked boards, flying wood-splinters, a few odd mugs of half-full ale and two VERY surprised patrons who both quite certainly hadn’t ordered a haste-deliver of “Worgen: Extra Raw”.<br/>As both patrons in utter shock fell on their respective backs, falling from the chairs, a dusty plume spread in the wake of sudden destruction.<br/>The entire inn was cursed with a fifteen second silence only broken by Ruhzelils cocky commentary and the painful coughs of Drusul as he was busy rekindling his relationship with his punched-out perspiration.<br/><br/>And then, almost simultaneously, the black-clad goons that our worgen gent brought abandoned their idle terrorizing of the local customers, unlatched their respective flint-locks to aim Ruhzelil up: Two mercenaries upturned a table, sending wooden cutlery flying and frothing ale spilling in a racket. They planted their heavy crossbows onto the edge to use as a make-shift tripod.<br/>Before the draenei knew it, atleast eight projectile weapons pointed her way.<br/><br/>But before even one person could initiate their “I’ll carve ya’ up!” revenge dialogue or even contemplate actually firing,, Drusul punched a hand into the air:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>STEADY, MEN! *cough*</b></span>”<br/><br/>One couldn’t accuse Drusul of not having the loyalty of his thugs – almost as fast as they had leveled their weapons onto Ruhzelil, did they lift them slightly. For another few seconds, they glanced at their frontrunner with a modicum of confusion.<br/><br/>“Just drink yer’ ale.. *cough*” Drusul followed up, doing a languid wave as he propped himself up on one knee, snorting; his doggish tongue lashed across his snout to clean it from dust.<br/><br/>It was now that Ruhzelil and her demonic escort noticed just how easy it was to gain insight in his thoughts – obviously, this man, like many other people on Azeroth, hadn’t been instructed in how to shield ones thoughts in the presence of a mind reader. After the singularly dedicated goal of “grab that arse!” became replaced with more complex considerations did Drusul unwittingly put himself in a compromised situation unlike any he had experienced before.<br/><br/>They learned that he immediately began dissecting this new potential threat: He was surprised! If his stupidly shocked expression on his transportion hadn’t clued her in on that by now, it was simply verified by the inner dialogue.<br/>She almost heard how he concluded that she not only had the ability to cast silently, already ranking her peerless in comparison to many sorcerers but simultaneously did she show almost a contemptuous disregard of the potential threat he OUGHT to have instilled.<br/><br/>He summarized that she was either exceptionally stupid and hadn’t seen the nasty sides of good old fashioned fights to the death, or she was arrogantly confident that she only needed an ounce of whatever power-pool she controlled. He swiftly concluded for the latter, taking into comparison that she was a draenei and therefore, infinitely older than him.<br/><br/>Completely unaware of how his thoughts were almost literally spoken out aloud for Ruhzelil, Drusul concluded that he had to consider the drawbacks and benefits of this situation.<br/><br/>On one hand, his first impressions hadn’t been entirely spot-on, at least with the goal of sunder-fucking our good lady. He HAD expected an attempt to go for his weak spots physically, and to that end he’d hoped he could draw on his experience in melee. What he instead got was potentially a short trip to the untimely end of his life.<br/><br/>On the other hand, however, she was dangerous! Looking aside from the fact that it was both a drawback and a benefit, Drusul couldn’t help but find this amusing in a sort of sadistic sort of fashion. My, you have claws, his mind thought.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>My, the ladybugs’ got CLAWS!</b></span>” he chortled out aloud for the rest to hear through a cough.<br/><br/>His mind droned on: His momentarily hurt ego aside, she almost yelled “great-fun-in-the-sheets” at him – a few bumps and bruises rarely deterred a man like Drusul; he liked to improvise to get what he wanted, but most days his sheer snarling disposition coupled with a gargantuan physique gave him precious little time to actually exercise this hobby of his.<br/><br/>Languidly, Drusul got onto both his powerful wolven legs, brushing his arms clear of the dust. For a man who more or less pulverized a wooden table, he recuperated like a world-class athlete. Sliding two thumbs into his belt, he gave her a more appraising glance, the spikes of perversion now dancing in hand with an earnest curiosity about her.<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna"><b>And Ah’d take it, the clawed, comely lookin’ tigress now would rob a wolfman of his skin fer her services? Mind yer, if ye’re as feisty as this’ outside, ye’ll have ter pardon me..</b></span>” – the “pardon” escaping through a growing, much less creepy, much more rugged and ironic toothy grin<span style="color: Sienna"><b>“..fer thinkin’ ye’re all sorts of amuzement like I like ‘eht in the sheets.</b></span>”<br/><br/>The worgen again approached the bar, swiping one of the terrified customer’s mugs – the patron dared not object to this little gesture, simply sulking pathetically afterwards. With a careless slurp, he approached in a fashion that left her aware of his presence physically.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>