<div style="text-align: center">---​</div><br/>The draenei and her demonic associate read the gush of simple-minded, perverse excitement resonate through the massive worgen almost defiantly echoing her imposing posture. His shrill thrill at the prospect of some much-needed release darted straight down into his man-tool, battling bravely agaist the leather confines of his trousers.<br/><br/><i><span style="color: DarkRed"><b>“What yer' lookin' at 'ere, luv, is His Royal Bloody Highness baptized as none otha' than Drusul Bergvalk Beltz-...”</b></span></i>the rubble-churning voice of the worgen spoke forth tinged with a hint of amusement.<br/><br/>He entertained with a small, mock-bow, concluding thereafter:<br/><br/><i><span style="color: DarkRed"><b>“..-but, corr: Me likes the whole “MUTT” angle; no reason denyin' ones nature, aye?”</b></span></i><br/><br/><i><span style="color: DarkRed"><b>“Mutt, it is, then!”</b></span></i>he thundered on, detaching a strained and tested bag of gold coins from his belt. He lead the bag up to the table and let it thump surly at her side; it exposed what the worgen assumed to be a healthy promise of monetary compensation for – what he was atleast convinced was – her marathon duty to please him.<br/><br/><i><span style="color: DarkRed"><b>“Now count whate'er yer' price be for our wee “demonstration”, courtesan, an' give this 'ere flabbergasted Worgen a bloodeh' run for 'is salary..”</b></span></i><br/><br/>The monstrous wolf-man exemplified his brash nature once again, simply beginning to undo his britches while she busied herself robbing him of his riches.<br/>As his member sprung forth from its leathery confines, two things immediately became clear to Ruhzelil.<br/><br/>Firstly, for a man of his vocation, size and generally brash demeanour, Drusul had to be commended on his attention to basic hygiene. This was again indicative of his attention to detail and probably heralded one of the reasons why he was a leader and not a follower. Despite the warm confines from which it came from, the only scents caught was slight sweat intermixed with leather, finally tipped off with the feint, but ever so recognizable odour of male musk that Ruhzehlil probably was all too familiar with by now.<br/><br/>Secondly, his schlong was huge for a worgen: inch upon inch of his capacious man-tool jutted proudly into the air, seemingly unending. It was helplessly hard and already displayed a droplet of salty pre-juices congregating on its angry tip – a meal fit for a queen.<br/>This staunch staff was complemented with two holdable balls hanging gently but not profusely from its base, beckoning closer inspection if one was so inclined.<br/><br/><i><span style="color: DarkRed"><b>“An' start out sloooooow.. me wants yer' tongue to enjoy all parts; give me crown jewels some -special attention- as well.”</b></span></i>he instructed with that indolent smile of a man accustomed to direct.<br/><br/>All the while this outrageous incident occurred, the surrounding mercenaries were coming to grips with the sudden mass-hallucinations they briefly experienced. To their credit, most of them bravely attempted to shake off the sudden mental suggestion, for now prioritizing the safety of their boss higher. Others, however, spoke volumes about their distraction, caught with frisky smirks spreading on their faces.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>