Finding Comfort

Stormheim. That's where Harry ultimately tracks Sylvanas and the Horde Fleet to. Of course, teleporting directly onto her Flagship, The Windrunner, might have been a mistake given the direct hostility he was subjected to.

"HUMAN MAGE!"

The shouted warning causes a flurry of motion as undead soldiers all turn towards him, reaching for weapons and looking equal parts hunted and ravenous as they get ready to slaughter him right then and there, no questions asked. Truly? Were things between the Alliance and the Horde so absurdly terrible already after just one horrifying joint loss? After all the work he'd done in bringing the two factions together over on Draenor, to have all of his efforts seemingly dashed while he was in the clutches of the Dragon Queen…

Harry frowns and readies himself for a fight, prepared to defend himself most vehemently if need be. He was still rather upset over his last encounter with a certain Archmage and could certainly use this as a way to blow off some steam until Sylvanas showed up from wherever she was hiding to call off her dogs. He'd try not to do too much damage in the meantime…

"Hold! He is the Banshee Queen's paramour, the one called Harry Potter! Back to your stations!"

Alas, it would appear that the fight he was spoiling for was not to happen. A Dark Ranger strides forward from below deck, and her words have… not quite a calming effect on the Forsaken soldiers around them, but at least an authoritative one. The Undead all gaze upon him in a new light, their expressions fairly unreadable… save for the Dark Ranger's, which is undeniably warm and inviting and friendly. Or as much those things as a literal undead elf can possibly be.

Stopping a few feet away from him, the Dark Ranger crosses her arms over her chest in the signature Forsaken Salute.

"Greetings, Archmage Potter. I am Anya, a Dark Ranger in service to the Banshee Queen… if it pleases you, I will escort you to the Warchief now."

The reminder that Sylvanas was now Warchief of the Horde does not go unnoticed. Nor does his sudden promotion in rank. To be fair, Harry meets all the prerequisites for being an Archmage, but technically he had never been granted the rank by the Kirin Tor. He SHOULD correct this Dark Ranger; he SHOULD tell her right here and now… but part of him rebels at the thought. He would not introduce himself as Jaina Proudmoore's Apprentice, and likely would never do so again out of spite. And did he not deserve the title? Why should the Kirin Tor be the only ones to be able to hand out the rank, as if they were the only body of magic-wielders in the entirety of Azeroth.

Instead of correcting her, Harry just smiles and inclines his head in greeting.

"Well met, Dark Ranger Anya. Please, lead the way."

Something akin to… excitement flickers through the Dark Ranger's eyes, even as said eyes flit down to his crotch for a moment. Harry lifts a brow, but Anya is already turning away and leading him back below deck. The journey starts out perfectly natural, with them striding down corridors, passing by some more Forsaken Soldiers.

There's not a single representation of any other race on Sylvanas' flagship. No orcs, no tauren, and no trolls. Nor are there elves, save for her Dark Rangers, and not a single goblin either. The last is the oddest bit, Harry was pretty sure that this airship technology was largely designed and kept working by the goblins, at least on the Horde's side of things.

To be fair, Sylvanas' promotion to Warchief was rather recent. It was entirely possible that the Banshee Queen simply hadn't had the chance to diversify her flagship's crew just yet. And it make plenty of sense that the crew of The Windrunner wouldn't have been diverse before her promotion… it was meant to be a Forsaken Warship, after all.

Still, it's something Harry can't help noting, before they finally reach the doors to Sylvanas' personal cabin. As Anya leads him inside, the darkness of the space is telling. Harry raises his eyebrow again as the doors close behind him, engulfing him and Anya in total darkness. He tempers his initial reaction to cast a spell that will grant him sight or cast light on the space when he hears voices beyond Anya's murmuring in excitement, and feels certain presences close in on him.

"A pleasure to meet you, Archmage. I am the Dark Ranger Cyndia."

"And I am the Dark Ranger Clea."

The two new presences, along with Anya's own, fill Harry with amusement, mostly because he can HEAR the overwhelming lust and desire in their breathy, sultry tones. Sylvanas' Dark Rangers are some of the most fearsome troops she has at her disposal… but it seems she's set them to quite the different task, this time around.

Indeed, Harry finds himself pawed at, groped, and slowly and sensually stripped even as he's walked forward. The squad of three Dark Rangers run their hands up and down his body, and while Harry is once more tempted to cast a spell that will let him see them, he decides to play along for now, resulting in a fair amount of blind groping on his part.

Their undead bodies, while cold to the touch, warm where his hands fall upon them. The magic he'd taken from Alexstrasza and made his own is tinged oddly, a strange perversion of Life and Death Magic. But there's no denying it was quite the… boon, heh. The Dark Rangers he manages to fondle positively gasp in delight, shuddering in the darkness and quivering from what he feels under his grasping hands.

They push themselves against him as more of his skin is revealed, reveling in the facsimile of life that even the barest touch from him can now give. Their moans become even more lustful, more breathy, as they, each of them, experience more in the way of pleasure and sensation and feeling then they likely have in decades.

For a moment, the squad of Dark Rangers are distracted by this discovery and Harry can tell they're warring within themselves, an inner battle between their own selfish desires and their loyalty to their Queen taking place. In the end though, loyalty wins out, much to Harry's mild amusement. They touch him and rub up against him, stroking his cock to full mast… but they also don't stop for long, moving him along after that initial moment of distraction.

Anya's voice sounds in his ear again after a moment, the Dark Ranger sounding even more excited and turned on then previously.

"Our Queen has quite the surprise for you, Archmage. She hopes you like it."

His cock jumps at the thought in whoever's hands are currently on his shaft, and the giggles from around him make it clear its more than one Dark Ranger who notices. Finally, they reach their ultimate destination it seems, because candles light up, purely of their own accord, and the first thing Harry sees in the dim light is Sylvanas Windrunner.

The Banshee Queen is laid out on her side, completely naked and bearing her wet, glistening pussy for him to see. Her beautiful breasts are also exposed… well, every bit of her is exposed for Harry to drink in, and he does so, admiring the view of the Horde's new Warchief while her servants continue to rub their own naked bodies against his, nibbling at his ears and licking at his neck and stroking his twitching cock.

Indeed, the Horde has never had a more beautiful, more gorgeous Warchief in Harry's humble opinion. But as soon as Harry is done admiring Sylvanas, his eyes move to her companion. There's a woman that she's making out with, their tongues dancing between them as Sylvanas very clearly controls the tempo of the exchange with the utmost ease, dominating the other's mouth with her own.

At first glance, Harry is shocked. At first glance, it looks, for all intents and purposes, like Sylvanas is greedily and domineeringly making out with a naked Jaina Proudmoore. But only at first glance, and he's able to bite back his near-exclamation of the Archmage's name as he realizes a second later that no… this is not Jaina Proudmoore.

Its an excellent copy, and one he would have been decidedly fooled by… if he hadn't met Taretha Foxton before. Of course, unlike the last time, this Taretha Foxton is decidedly not alive. The girl he'd met on that trip to the past in Hillsbrad Foothills all that time ago… she died after his and his party's interference. Harry remembered being more than a little irritated to find out about her end, even if she died for a cause she believed in. It wasn't fair, nor was it right.

But admittedly, he'd not considered this option. He probably should have. Maybe he even should have stopped Sylvanas. Because the Taretha before him now… her pale features made her look exactly like an undead Jaina Proudmoore, though an incredibly well-preserved one, on the same level as Sylvanas and all of her Dark Rangers.

The only sign of her cause of death, in fact, was a very nearly faded scar around her neck where she'd been beheaded by her executioner. And even that was partially hidden by the iron collar she wore around her neck, a chain leash coming off it that was wrapped tightly around the Banshee Queen's hand.

As he and the squad of Dark Rangers approach, Sylvanas breaks the lip lock with Taretha, causing the undead woman's icy blue eyes to look at him in confusion as the Banshee Queen gives him a wicked smirk.

"Pet… this is the man I told you about. This is your Master. Though you do not remember either of us, we knew you, once upon a time… and we knew you were worthy of this second chance at life."

A shiver runs through Taretha's pale flesh, as she looks between her Mistress and him for a moment.

"I'm so cold…"

Sylvanas' smile freezes ever so slightly, but she manages to swallow her anger, giving Taretha a sickeningly sweet smirk as she nods to Harry.

"There is the source of your warmth, pet. He is the only warmth you will ever have ever again… but also, as you will quickly find, the only warmth you truly need."

Taretha blinks at that, and honestly so does Harry. When Sylvanas pointedly lets some of the slack on Taretha's chain leash go, the naked undead Jaina lookalike slowly, carefully rises from the bed that she and her Mistress had been laying on. She steps over to him and reaches out to touch him, gasping in surprise when just his skin alone is enough to warm her.

Sylvanas' red eyes widen with slight surprise as well at that, the Banshee Queen unaware of his most recent power up or the ramifications of it for her and hers. Harry grins as the lounging undead elf hurriedly reaches out and takes his cock from her Dark Ranger's groping hands, tugging him forward almost insistently.

Harry lets her to do, resulting in him pressed up against the edge of the bed as Sylvanas places her lips around his cockhead, licking and beginning to suckle it like a long-lost lover. He watches her red eyes widen even further as she tongues his slit, feeling the warmth of fresh life exuded by just his skin. He was Master of Death before, but after the months he spent surviving Alexstrasza, who knew what the fuck he was at this point. Master of Life and Death had a nice ring to it, to be sure… but he wasn't sure he wanted to go THAT far.

Regardless, after a moment, Sylvanas pulls back off of his cock, licking her plush lips which currently have a hint of color to them from touching his skin for so long.

"Incredible… you grow in power once more, Harry. But… it's still not good as the real thing. A belly full of seed is the only way to truly feel alive once more."

She all but mutters all of that to herself, before seemingly coming to a decision, because the next instant, she's attacking his cock almost ravenously, clearly seeking out the exact thing she needs to feel truly alive once more… a thick load of his cum, deposited right into her belly. Harry watches on in amusement for a moment, enjoying the pleasure brought on by Sylvanas' ravenous nature, and the moaning, insistent, needy feel as Taretha and the Dark Rangers all do their best to press as much of their undead bodies against his warmth-suffusing skin as possible.

Still, he's never been the type to stand idly by and LET things like this happen to him. That would be entirely uncharacteristic of him, really. And so, despite having multiple women clinging to him as Sylvanas does her level best to deep-throat the entirety of his cock with every bob up and down his length… Harry surges forward.

Glowing red eyes widen as he pushes Sylvanas onto her back, ending up kneeling on either side of her shoulders and all but sitting on her plush, fat tits. His hand goes to her head, his fingers lace through her hair, and he shoves his cock down the Banshee Queen's throat, fucking her face hard and fast. The more he face fucks her, the more of his precum she swallows… and the more life returns to her, warmth suffusing her being.

The thing is, as that life returns to her, so does certain things… like a gag reflex. It's not long before Sylvanas' undead state is so questionable that she's beginning to choke on his cock, producing saliva as her mouth warms up, her throat beginning to convulse with the returned need to breathe for the first time in much too long.

"Gaaaaagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!"

Harry just smirks down at her as the Horde's new Warchief takes her oral punishment with aplomb. Choking on his cock, drool and saliva dripping down off her lower lip onto her chin for his hefty ball sack to slap into, Sylvanas doesn't fight back, nor does she try to resist. Instead, she reaches up behind him, grabbing him by his ass cheeks and driving him even further into her throat with all her heart, clearly seeking her just reward.

Meanwhile, Taretha and the Dark Rangers are not idle either. Though Harry tore free of their grasp for a moment in a display of enhanced strength that stupefied them very briefly, they don't hesitate to follow him and their Mistress up onto the bed. Crawling around the two of them, still moaning and nuzzling against him, they're all so very eager to worship his body with their mouths, tongues, hands, and breasts.

Rubbing into him are three undead elves and one undead human woman, all four of them rather well put together by the necromantic magic that gives them unlife. Harry's own death magic is usurping that magic to give them a temporary true resurrection, and the more warmth and feeling that returns to them, the more desperate the complement of Dark Rangers and Taretha Foxton are for more.

Harry wonders how Thrall would react, if he knew what Sylvanas had done with his former friend. He wondered how Jaina would react, knowing that the lookalike of her they'd played with back in the past timeline of Hillsbrad Foothills, had been turned into Sylvanas' pet. Likely she wouldn't have reacted very well, and frankly, Harry would have been inclined to back her up… before finding out about her betrayal.

Now… now he can't help but want to enjoy himself, no matter the costs, no matter how selfish he's being. The fight he was spoiling for up on the deck of The Windrunner had failed to properly materialize, so now he was taking out his frustration in another way, while giving these beautiful, gorgeous women precisely what they so desperately wanted.

Sylvanas was right about that much. Harry was the only man alive who could truly give them life again, who could make them feel again, who could make them warm again. Why not revel in that, just a bit? Why not give them everything they needed?

"Glughk! Glughk! Glughk!"

Down below, Harry has let his attention lapse very briefly, not quite face fucking Sylvanas as hard of his own accord any longer. But that doesn't mean the Banshee Queen has stopped face fucking HERSELF upon his cock, gobbling up his dick, her glowing red eyes absolutely BEGGING for him to cum and give her what she needed as he gazes down on them.

Smiling, Harry gives the Horde's new Warchief a nod and a moment later her just reward. His seed explodes out of his dick tip and fills her mouth, and Sylvanas eagerly swallows as much as he can as he positively FLOODS her gaping maw with the delicious, but more importantly, life-giving treat. Of course, another consequence of his time with Alexstrasza rears its ugly head here.

The Life-Binder was a glutton for his cum and had not stopped… enhancing him throughout their time together. So much so, that the enhancement was now undeniably permanent, either by simple happenstance or by sheer virtue of how much of her magic he was able to permanently assimilate into himself.

As a result, Harry cums… and then keeps on cumming, well beyond the volume of seed that even the Banshee Queen is at all used to. By the time she's swallowed half again what he would normally have cum, Harry is STILL ejaculating, and Sylvanas' glowing red eyes are beginning to fill with panic. As absurd as it is, his seed is giving her a temporary return to life… which means she does need to breathe again. That was why her gag reflex had disappeared in the first place during the extended deep-throat blowjob.

Now though, in this instant, she's in very real danger of asphyxiating on his cum as Harry just keeps on cumming. But of course, Harry isn't about to let that happen. With a slight smirk, the green-eyed wizard pulls back and delivers the rest of his insanely large payload all over Sylvanas' face and tits instead, scooting back enough that he's able to coat her entire upper half in his white, hot, magically-charged jizz. And that's even after giving Sylvanas the belly full of cum that she asked for, and then some.

The result is a somewhat dazed Windrunner, but then it's not just him and her, is it? The moment he pulls back and releases the rest of his precious, rare seed all over their Mistress' face and tits, the complement of Dark Rangers do the only thing they can do. Like a bunch of ravenous dogs, they leap from nuzzling his body and pressing their own bodies against his skin wherever they could, to outright attacking their Mistress' upper half.

They don't wait for permission, they don't so much as acknowledge Sylvanas' authority over them in this moment… there's nothing the Banshee Queen can do but lay there and take it as her Dark Rangers, who were so loyal mere minutes before, have that loyalty shattered in an instant by the very possibility of getting some of his seed in their own bellies.

It takes Taretha a moment longer to realize what's happening, still hugging him and nuzzling his neck as she is. When the undead human woman finally realizes she's no longer jockeying for even a few scant inches of his flesh with three undead elves much more experienced in the art of seduction than she is, she can't help but reluctantly pull back, looking confused.

As the Dark Rangers fall into a veritable FRENZY lapping up his precious jizz off of their still-recovering Banshee Queen, Taretha looks between his warmth-giving flesh and the seed staining Sylvanas' body, seemingly baffled. After all, why would the Dark Rangers abandon Harry in favor of consuming his cum… unless it was truly better?

Very confused, but also more than willing to follow her seniors' lead in this matter, Taretha hesitantly begins to bend down to lick… only to stop as Harry reaches out with a hand and grabs her by her hair. Gathering up the undead Jaina lookalike's bleached white locks in his hand, he smiles as he guides her back around to him… more specifically, to his cock.

"Clean this instead, pet."

Icy blue eyes flickering between his messy dick and his face for all of a moment, Taretha lets her tongue drift out, sliding it along his cum-soaked prick. As soon as she gets a taste, those eyes of hers, already aglow, light up even further and she begins to attack his cock with a similar fervor to the complement of Dark Rangers attacking Sylvanas' face and tits as TRUE heat floods Taretha's undead body.

She now understands what Sylvanas and her Dark Rangers already knew… the simple fact that while Harry's skin could now convey a facsimile of life to undead, it was his bodily fluids that would directly make them feel TRULY alive again. As some color returns to Taretha Foxton's cheeks, the pale undead moaning throatily as she takes more and more of his cock into her flexing throat, Harry smiles… but the more he stares at her, the more his smile becomes ever so slightly… rigid.

Its easy to divorce her from Jaina when she's pale-skinned and clearly undead. Not quite so easy as the life is breathed back into her body from the mere taste of his seed. Looking down at her… Harry finds it harder and harder to hold back, and since Taretha doesn't seem to have developed a gag reflex quite yet…

Winding her hair around his hand before curling it into a fist, Harry places his other hand on the back of Taretha's head and begins to thrust. He's not gentle about it, using her still-warming mouth as a cocksleeve to loose some of his remaining pent up anger towards a certain Archmage upon her lookalike.

Slamming into the back of her throat again and again, she nevertheless sucks and slurps at his cock aggressively, realizing that if she can just endure his rough treatment, she should receive another load like the one her Mistress received. And now that she knows the truth of Sylvanas' words, now that she understands how important Harry is to her new existence, Taretha will do ANYTHING to make him cum.

Harry, meanwhile, is almost snarling as the life continues to return to Jaina's lookalike, making her… well, look more and more like the Archmage. After how Jaina lied to him, how she deceived him and made him a fool… Harry can't help but be upset. Even more so because part of him gets it, really, he does. He doesn't want to understand, but he can't help but empathize, just a little bit, with Jaina.

She didn't want to lose him. Hadn't he acted selfishly before? Hadn't he done terribly self-centered things more than once in his past? It was the height of hypocrisy and irrationality to be angry at Jaina for trying to cling to him all the harder because of how much she loved him. And yet… Harry had never claimed to be all that rational of a person. He was only human, after all, and came with all of the usual emotions that humans came with.

It was impossible for him to just give Jaina a pass. She'd effectively controlled his life and taken his options away from him, and for someone like Harry who was used to being in total control of both himself, his surroundings, and even most of the people in his direct orbit… that might just be unforgivable.

Even if part of him still missed Jaina horribly, even now. But to be fair, he didn't even know where she'd gone. For the time being, he supposed, he had Taretha Foxton. Of course, the more he skull fucks her violently in response to Jaina's actions against him, the more Taretha begins to come… back to life. And with that comes a need for air and a return of her gag reflex as she chokes and gags on his cock, tears streaking down her cheeks for the first time since she'd been resurrected, no doubt.

"GAGKH! GAGKH! GAGKH!"

Still Harry has no intention of stopping or slowing down… that is, until he's distracted. As much as he's enjoying taking out his anger on Jaina's lookalike, Sylvanas Windrunner has other plans. A meaty slap draws his attention away from the choking, asphyxiating blue-eyed girl throating his cock to where Sylvanas and her complement of Dark Rangers have finally come to… terms.

Not a single Dark Ranger meets their Mistress' eyes or his eyes as Harry looks over, all of them more than a little embarrassed by their lapse in judgment, by their… display of disloyalty. Still, if Sylvanas is upset with them at all, the Banshee Queen is not showing it, not at the moment. Instead, spit-polished by the mouths of her Dark Rangers, glistening with their saliva and all cleaned up by their eager, enthusiastic, and altogether violent tongues, the Horde's new Warchief has her legs spread and raised up in the air, her pussy and asshole both exposed. Not just exposed though, but outright spread open by both her hands and the hands of her Dark Rangers.

Well, with such an open invitation, how is Harry to do anything save give her what she so desperately desires. After all, if anyone deserves his next load, its still the Banshee Queen, regardless of her already receiving the first. She was the one who'd set this all up, who'd gone to who knew how much trouble in order to find and bring back Taretha right under Thrall's nose. Whether or not the orc shaman would ever sniff out what Sylvanas had done was still up in the air, but the risk was not negligible.

And she'd done that for him, for Harry. She'd done it to make him happy. She'd done it to show him how much she cared about him.

… Sylvanas and he might not have ever exchanged words of love like him and Jaina, but as Harry yanks Taretha off of his cock and throws her atop the Banshee Queen by his grip on her hair, he reflects that the undead elf has also never so grossly betrayed him either. So long as they've been allies, Sylvanas has been rather upfront with him, as far as Harry knows. They both know what she wants from him, and their relationship is a fair bit more transactional than most of his relationships with the living women of Azeroth, but all the same… Harry can't help but appreciate her.

And so, with Taretha laid out atop her Mistress and Sylvanas re-looping the Jaina lookalike's chain leash around her fist enough times to be able to pull it taut and keep Taretha in place, Harry moves into position behind them both… and without hesitation, plunges into Sylvanas' pussy, drawing a truly wanton moan from the Banshee Queen, her belly full of his cum making it so she's currently feeling more alive than she has in a while.

Her cunt gushes along his shaft and clenches down hard around his girth. But no matter how hard she grips him, Harry pulls out all the same… and plunges into Taretha's cunt next, right above hers. The recently resurrected human girl cries out in an ugly fashion, her head thrown back as she experiences the pleasure of having his massive bitch breaker of a cock buried inside of her dripping twat for the very first time.

Its not the first time for him, of course, nor even the first time for Sylvanas. But Taretha didn't remember their previous experiences together. That was how the Bronze Dragons had explained it would work. Their work, to stymy the Infinite Dragonflight, would merely put the timeline back on the right path. Taretha would only remember setting fire to the internment bunkhouses and helping Thrall escape, only to stay behind to be caught and tortured by the human Lord in charge of the area.

A terrible fate for one so young and beautiful, made all the worse by her inability to remember their time together. But that was alright, because she was here now, with him and Sylvanas once more, and Harry would help her do away with such terrible memories and replace them with new ones filled with pleasure, ecstasy, and bliss.

Of course, he doesn't stay long in Taretha's clenching cunny either. Pulling out just as swiftly as he thrusts in, Harry's next thrust… goes right into Sylvanas Windrunner's ass, prompting a truly uncharacteristic squeal from the Banshee Queen. Heh, if only the Horde could see their new Warchief now. As he looks past Taretha down to see Sylvanas' red eyes crossing from the filling of her back door, her current liveliness causing her to experience a LOT more sensation than usual, Harry can't help but be amused.

Of course, after thrusting into Sylvanas' ass… Harry in turn has to do the same to dear, darling Taretha as well. The undead human isn't expecting it, nor is she expecting it to feel so much MORE given her state of undeath. But Harry's cum from her cleaning off his cock has given her enough sensation to squeal out as well, the Jaina lookalike shaking and shuddering atop her Mistress' figure as Sylvanas grips tightly at her collar and chain.

And so, Harry goes all out, because he needs this… he needs to just let his primal, bestial brain free and turn off the part of him that's so busy thinking about every fucking little thing. Like for instance, how the fuck Sylvanas got made Warchief over all of the other leaders of the Horde. What was Vol'jin smoking there, really?

But no, Harry doesn't want to get bogged down by that sort of thing… and so he doesn't allow himself to. Indeed, it takes a lot more of his concentration and focus to fuck all four of their lower holes rather than just one or two at a time. He has to be paying very close attention, in order to plunge in and out of their cunts and asses in violent, rapid speed fucking, plowing them in every single one of their lower orifices, rather than just fucking one for a while, and then another, and then another.

No, Harry knows what he wants here… he wants it all. And so, in a move that most other males would probably be unable or even unwilling to try and perform, Harry does it. He fucks Sylvanas' cunt one moment, and then Taretha's ass the next, and then Sylvanas' ass followed by Taretha's cunt and then he does it all over again. Constantly swapping it up, constantly plowing them in an entirely random order that not even he has any real idea of.

He's fucking them both silly, making them squeal and shake and scream as his precum and the cum already in their bellies brings them back to life. Only a temporary relief from the undeath that plagues them, but even temporary, its enough to make them truly feel again. And with that ability to feel, comes the ability to orgasm.

As both elf and human climax again and again from his rapid-fire pistoning prick as it plows in and out of all four of their holes at the exact same time, Harry watches in amusement as Sylvanas eggs him on with her eyes, looking up at him hungrily, flicking her long sensual tongue around her fangs. By comparison, the less experienced and more easily overwhelmed Taretha is screaming, her noises muffled as she buries her face in the crook of her Mistress' neck and clings to Sylvanas for dear life.

Still, Harry isn't holding back… and finally, the time comes that HE cums, his seed exploding from his balls once more… directly into Sylvanas Windrunner's womb. Watching her glowing red eyes widen and then fully roll back in her head is something that Harry doesn't believe he will EVER stop relishing. Truly, the expression of absolute ecstasy that spreads across the Banshee Queen's face as he fills her to the brim with his seed and then some… its most gratifying.

She cums as well of course, squirting around his cock, her pussy walls flexing and clenching along his dick as she tries to milk him of every last drop of his load. But just like the first time he came, Harry knows Sylvanas can't handle the amount of cum he can now deliver alone. Indeed, her womb might just fucking burst from the sheer amount of white, hot sticky substance he was now capable of producing at one time.

… He should probably look into fixing that at some point, but for now, Harry utilizes the easiest solution… the one right in front of him. Pulling out of the shaking, spasming, still climaxing form of Sylvanas Windrunner, he thrusts one final time into Taretha Foxton's gloriously tight cunny as well and gives her the first load of her undead life. The explosion of pleasure from his life-bearing seed filling her womb is enough to make the Jaina lookalike squirt all around his cock as well, her screams turning into high-pitched squeals as she's brought even further into the warm facsimile of life that his particular brand of magic-infused bodily fluids can provide.

Their holes agape, even their back doors still agape despite not each receiving their own creampies, Sylvanas and Taretha ride out their respective mind-breaking climaxes, even as Harry finally pulls back, not quite spent… but certainly a little out of breath. Still, he can't help admire the view of their twitching bodies, spasming from what HE had done to the two of them…

-x-X-x-

"So then… how did you do it?"

In the aftermath of their climactic reunion, things are… actually still happening. Harry might be laid back on the bed with Sylvanas and Taretha laid up against his sides, cuddling with him and basking in a shared afterglow of renewed life and revitalization. But that doesn't mean the sexual activity has completely died down. In fact, one might say its more active than ever, because all three of the Dark Rangers are now directly involved in things.

As Cyndia and Clea greedily eat out the creampied pussies of Sylvanas and Taretha respectively, Anya bounces up and down on his dick, keeping her mewling moaning cries to a minimum as much as she possibly can, even as she gasps and groans, impaling herself upon his massive bitch breaking member over and over again.

But just because she's busy having her turn with him, doesn't mean Harry is going to continue to let himself be distracted from more important matters. He'd allowed himself to get lost in the sex earlier because he'd needed to work out his frustration somehow. Now though… now it was time to talk. Pillow talk, to be sure, but talk all the same.

His question, directed at Sylvanas, draws a furrowed brow from the momentarily satiated Banshee Queen.

"Do… what?"

Raising an eyebrow at his undead lover, Harry smirks.

"No need to prevaricate here, Sylvanas. You're among friends. How did you manage to secure the nomination of Warchief? Especially when, all things considered, you were probably the last one anyone would have thought Vol'jin would peg for the job."

For a moment, Sylvanas bristles at that, and honestly, that goes a long way to helping Harry believe the next words out of the Banshee Queen's mouth. Her ears suddenly droop, and she becomes a lot more subdued as she looks away from him for a moment and quietly admits the truth.

"… I have no idea."

Both of Harry's eyebrows raise at that, and yet… he believes her. Even though his ability to judge peoples' characters might feel a little shaken after the truth of Jaina's betrayal came out, he actually believes Sylvanas doesn't know right now how this happened. Still, he stays quiet for a moment and lets her explain.

"… In his last moments before death, Vol'jin claimed the Loa spoke to him. That he was told I was the only candidate who would lead the Horde through the troubling times ahead. He claimed me as his successor based on that… and somehow, everyone else just went along with it. Not just the trolls, who have every reason to believe in the animal spirits they worship as gods, and not just the undead and elves, both of whom I have deep connections to. But somehow, the orcs, tauren, and goblins all got on board with very little fuss as well."

Letting out an explosive sigh, Sylvanas finally looks him in the eye.

"I still don't fully understand it. I know not why I was chosen as Warchief. I know not what these Loa of Vol'jin saw that made me, the Banshee Queen, the best candidate. But I knew the moment my name left his lips that I could not afford to refuse. The power that the title of Warchief gives me, the ability to empower my Forsaken further… it was not something I could possibly pass up, no matter how ill-suited I might be to lead a faction compromised mostly of living, breathing creatures."

Letting out a breathy sigh as her tits shake from her own current need to breathe, Sylvanas peers at him, looking Harry over with a frown.

"… Do you judge me for it, Harry? Do you blame me for seizing this opportunity?"

He gives those words the consideration they deserve, contemplating them for a long moment, even as Anya continues to ride his cock with exulting cries. Clea and Cyndia, meanwhile, are both eyeing their fellow Dark Ranger with undisguised envy and a greedy lust that makes it clear they wish they were in her place. Not that that's stopping them from hungrily devouring every drop of his sperm from Sylvanas and Taretha's quims as he and their Mistress talk.

"… No, I don't blame you. Maybe if you actually did have something to do with it, with being Vol'jin's choice, I might have judged you. I certainly would be more wary of your goals and your purpose. But as it is… well, at the very least you acknowledge that the possibility of one of the troll Loa actually wanting you on the throne for anything good is very, VERY low, yes?"

Sylvanas' face scrunches up into a grimace, before she tilts her head in acknowledgment.

"Yes. It's quite obviously a trap of some sort. For whom or what, I know not."

Reaching down, Harry intertwines his fingers in Sylvanas' hand, the one not still holding onto Taretha's leash. He gives the Banshee Queen a smile.

"Well then, keep me up to date, alright? I'll be there to help any way I can, every step of the way."

A soft, almost tender smile flits across the new Warchief's pristine features at that, and Harry once again finds himself amused by the thought of how the majority of the Horde would react if they saw their leader in her current state. Naked, used thoroughly by her 'paramour', and utterly disarmed by his big fat cock and the simple truth that he cared.

Of course, with one question answered, Harry had another one already in the barrel as well.

"… And what exactly, has you all out here in Stormheim then? You've brought not only the Horde fleet out here, but yourself as well. Leading from the front is all well and good, but what is it you seek? Will it help against the Legion?"

If not for Jaina's recent betrayal, Harry might not have even noticed the slightest flicker of Sylvanas' eyes up and to the left as she answers. The hint of deceit catches on his brand new paranoia, however.

"We, that is the Horde, are here in Stormheim pursuing the Aegis of Aggramar. Tis one of the Pillars of Creation, all of which will presumably be needed if we are not only to stop the Legion, but firmly push them back from our world entirely."

Harry nods, accepting this answer… or seeming to for a moment. Then, he reaches out and runs his fingers through Sylvanas' hair. He doesn't grab onto her or treat her roughly in any way… but he does play with her hair, even as he stares his undead lover right in the eye.

"That's why the Horde are out here. Why are YOU out here?"

… If she'd tried to keep up the deception for even a moment longer than that, Harry thinks he might have exploded in rage. He was actually already barely keeping it under wraps as it was, and in that instant, he realized just how close to the surface his simmering anger was. Jaina's betrayal… he'd thought he was getting over it, but no. Something like that was going to take a lot longer to heal.

Still, Sylvanas dodges the nuke by slumping a bit and sighing.

"There is something else… something I cannot explain just yet. Know this… if I succeed, it might provide a future for my people. But if I do not… then you were better off not being attached in the first place."

Harry raises both eyebrows again at that, and for half a moment he's really tempted to push the issue. His first instinct is to demand that Sylvanas lets him help. But then he thinks of everything that's happened of late. He thinks of how he and Jaina are now estranged, and just WHY that is. He thinks on how he still hasn't told Sylvanas that he's planning on finding a way back to his old world as soon as this newest world-ending threat is taken care of.

Perhaps its for the best that he doesn't involve himself in Sylvanas' affairs any further than he's already done. Perhaps its for the best that their relationship remain the affectionate, but also altogether transactional one it's been so far.

With a sigh, Harry lets his hand drop from Sylvanas' locks, giving the Banshee Queen a smile to show he's not upset.

"Very well, I'll wish you the best of luck and leave it at that then. At least you have the wherewithal to tell me you're planning something foolish. That's not something I can say for Jaina."

Sylvanas' brow furrows at that and of course, Harry has to explain things then and there. It's then that he tells the Banshee Queen what happened between him and Jaina, how his decision to eventually find a way home had led to Jaina finally revealing that she'd been doing her level best to keep anyone from his original home from finding HIM for quite some time now.

That that had let to their new estrangement gives Sylvanas no end of pleasure, as Harry knew it would. She tries desperately to hide a victorious smile by looking away from him, but the way she drags her sharp nails sensually up and down his chest, almost like a cat kneading, makes it clear how pleased she is. Meanwhile, the sensation is enough to finally tip Harry over the edge, causing him to unload inside of Anya, much to the jealousy of her sisters.

This time around, Harry pulls back on his output and finds that he can indeed control how much he's cumming, so that he doesn't fully overwhelm the Dark Ranger with his seed. She still ends up bloated and with her eyes rolled back in her head, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, but its manageable, at least.

Meanwhile, Clea and Cyndia both pull back from their respective tasks and pout mightily, looking on with jealousy at the fucked silly expression on their fellow Dark Ranger's face.

However, before the two can begin to fight over who gets to go next, before the orgy can continue, a massive explosion rocks the ship. The sudden crash sends them all a-scatter for a moment as the entirety of The Windrunner seems to list to the side, before they're finally able to scramble to their feet as the airship stabilizes a moment later. A heartbeat after that, the cabin doors are flung open, another Dark Ranger positively flying into the room, her eyes wide with frantic energy.

"My Queen! We're under attack! It's the Alliance!"

-x-X-x-

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