Chapter 1 - Shadowlands Cancelled

Nobody knew what that elven wretch tried to accomplish by agreeing to a fair one-versus-one duel against Varok Saurfang. Was it overconfidence? Pride? Sheer stupidity? Nobody knew the answer to that question. And honestly, nobody cared about it anymore. The Bitch Queen lies on a rocky ground of Durotar, knocked out cold by the High Overlord's mighty blow. The 'duel' is over. The 'rebellion' was a success. An ordinary Tuesday for the Horde.
Or, well, it might have been an ordinary one if not for the horrible consequences of Sylvanas' short-termed rule.
As an acting-temporary-warchief-until-we-find-someone-stupid-enough-to-take-the-job, Thrall now had to deal with all of the repercussions that befall the Horde with the end of this joke of a 'Fourth war'. Amidst those the most troublesome issue was the dire lack of mundane gold in the Horde, since the Banshee Cunt clearly didn't care much about financial matters and proper funding management. And now that Orgrimmar owes literally every single other faction on Azeroth a metric crapton of money as repatriation, the empty treasury of the Horde may cause an utter collapse of the Horde itself.
Thus, Acting Warchief Thrall was not a happy orc. The present appointment with Gazlowe (who succeeded Gallywix as a Trade Prince of the Bilgewater Cartel) made him even more gloomy, for the faction Horde owed the most gold to was the goblin nation. And Thrall had to find a way to convince them that they must wait for Horde to establish a source of income in order to pay out all the debts. Which was not an easy task, given the typical goblin trait of excessive greed.
 
To Warchief's surprise, the new Trade Prince did not outright begin with making demands.
"Greetings, Warchief," said Gazlowe, making a bow before him. "I come to discuss the most recent events."
"Greetings, Trade Prince," replied Thrall. "I understand, and I already know that Sylvanas took several major loans from the Cartel within the last year."
"That she did, Warchief. That she did. And now that the Bitch no longer rules the entire faction, the debt befalls upon the remaining leaders of the Horde."
Thrall let loose an exasperated sigh.
"The Horde admits all the loans and will pay them in full, but you must understand that we're currently aground. I hope that Cartel would agree to postpone these payments," he said, "if only for several months or so."
To his surprise, the typical goblin smirk on the Gazlowe's face did not outright turn into a scowl. Instead he smiled even wider.
"Yes, yes, the goblin nation is well aware of the current situation with the financial balance of the Horde. That's exactly the reason why Cartel would like to present you a suggestion of sorts," said the Trade Prince.
"A... suggestion?"
Gazlowe's smile widened even further, turning into a full-scale shit-eating grin.
"Aye, consider it an offer you won't be able to refuse, my Warchief."
The puzzled look on Thrall's face turned into a frown.
"Care to elaborate, Trade Prince?"
"Well, I did travel all the way to my beloved Orgrimmar for a reason, didn't I?" replied the new goblin leader. "Let's get to the topic."
Gazlowe brought out a parchment scroll from his backpack and placed it on the table before the Warchief.
"This is the most recent list of loans that are due to be paid by the Horde. As you may see over here," he pointed at the bottom of the sheet, "the total amount is about sixty-three million gold coins. The Bitch Queen clearly didn't bother about returning these loans anytime soon."
"Clearly," replied Thrall, eyeing the list of debts to Bilgewater Cartel. The situation was even worse than he feared. "I wonder what was her deal with Gallywix?"
"Oh, but it doesn't matter in slightest. You see, the Cartel always gets its due," Gazlowe let out a menacing giggle.
The Warchief gave him a determined look.
"We WILL pay off. Later, when we will have the necessary amount..."
"No, no, no, that's not the point!" exclaimed Gazlowe. "What I'm trying to say is that the Bilgewater Cartel offers the Horde to settle this entire debt with a fair trade!"
Thrall stared at the Trade Prince in surprise.
"A trade?"
"Yes! You see, the Cartel has repurposed most of ol' Gally's assets. We are no longer in dire need of funding and therefore we may agree to null and void all these listed loans. I'd say that we might even invest some additional gold in the Horde treasury, should we strike a bargain here and now!"
"That... sounds suspiciously good," said Thrall. "What's on your mind then?"
"Oh, but it is actually quite simple, my Warchief," sniggered the Trade Prince. "We would like to trade these loans for the Bitch Queen."
Thrall gave the goblin leader a long startled look.
"What?!"
"I told you that you won't be able to refuse this offer, didn't I?"
"What do you mean by 'trading the loans for the Queen'?!"
"Exactly what I said, my Warchief," smirked Gazlowe. "We get the Bitch. You get the nullified debts. And a small extra tip of, let's say, two million gold coins. Does that sound reasonable to you?"
"Are you trying to bribe me, goblin?" Thrall frowned at such a thought.
Gazlowe gave him a defiantly innocent look.
"Bribe?! Never! The Cartel would never do such an atrocity!"
Thrall raised an eyebrow.
"Then what the hell do you call all this mockery?"
"Exactly what I said: a fair trade offer between our factions," replied Gazlowe. "Sixty-five million gold. One criminal, a cardinal offender to the goblin nation. The Cartel considers this an excellent offer."
"The Horde does not trade in slaves, goblin!" growled the Warchief.
"The Horde doesn't need to, my Warchief," grinned the Trade Prince, unperturbed by the growl of Thrall. "All that we ask for is that the Horde entrusts the imprisonment of the Bitch Queen to the Cartel. After all, it was the Cartel who provided you with the enchanted azerite chains and shackles to prevent that banshee's escape by turning into that smokey shape of hers. Surely you can see that we make up for perfect jailors for that wretch?"
Thrall narrowed his eyes, glaring at the goblin leader.
"Sylvanas is yet to face the just trial for her crimes."
"Please, Warchief, we both know that the only outcome of such a trial would be death sentence. And its not like you can find an easy way to kill her permanently," said Gazlowe. "Not to mention that a simple execution of a war criminal wouldn't fix your financial problems. The Horde is on a verge of collapse. We both understand that. So why don't we help each other... for the Greater Good?"
 
The only thing Thrall was absolutely sure about is that he would never forget the menacing grin that appeared on the Trade Prince's face when the Warchief signed the agreement between the Horde and the Bilgewater Cartel.
Sixty-five million gold for one tightly packed Banshee Queen.
The Cartel definitely wanted to place their hands on Sylvanas.
And Thrall knew that he would never dare to investigate the fate that has befallen the former Queen of the Horde.
 
 

 
 
"Seventy million gold."
"Seventy-five million gold."
"Seventy-seven million gold."
"Eighty million gold."
"Eighty-three million gold."
"Ninety million gold."
The underground auction was filled with quiet whispering and murmur.
"Ninety million gold once! Ninety million gold twice!"
"One hundred million gold."
"One hundred million gold once! One hundred million gold twice!"
"One hundred and five million gold!"
"One hundred and twenty million gold."
The whispering died out permanently.
"One hundred and twenty million gold once! One hundred and twenty million gold twice!"
The auctioneer's gavel struck the lectern, announcing the end of the trades.
"One hundred and twenty million gold - sold! The final lot of this auction goes to the troll gentleman in the back row!"

 

 
 
"It is done then?"
"Aye, my Queen. The package be delivered to the vault of yer choice inside the treasury."
"And the trail?"
The hooded Zandalari male smiled mischievously, but said nothing.
"Good. Fetch both of the 'specialists' and bring them to the vault."
"At once, my Queen."
 


 
 
When Sylvanas finally came back to her senses, she sort of expected to find herself imprisoned. After all, her defeat in front of the gates of Orgrimmar could only lead to either swift execution or a 'just' trial and an execution afterwards. And in case of the former, she wouldn't have any senses to come back to, would she? So incarceration was something she could predict with certainty. What she wasn't certain of was the location of her imprisonment, for it was clearly NOT one of the cells inside the dungeons of Orgrimmar. The room where she woke up in was too fancy and too well decorated to be an Orgrimmar prison cell. Or any prison cell, for that matter. It looked more like... a vault?
Suddenly she realized where exactly she was.
"Zuldazar treasury? Why..."
"Ah. You're awake. Good" 
Sylvanas tried to turn towards the familiar female voice but found herself unable to move her head. In fact, she was unable to move at all. What was worse was the fact that she was completely naked. She tried to move her legs or hands but immediately realized that they were firmly fixed. She couldn't see the actual shackles, but she felt a pair of them on her ankles, her lower hips, her wrists and her shoulders. A metal collar was put on her neck in addition to a leather strap that blocked any movement of her head.
"You're twitching a bit too early. There will be plenty of that later on. Don't be so hasty, my dear," came the same calm voice.
And now she recognized it.
"Talanji! What is the meaning..."
"Silence!" shouted another female nearby. And before Sylvanas could reply, an arc of lightning energy struck her body.
"AAAARGH!" shouted the former Warchief. The pain was enormous, and despite her tolerance, it completely surprised her.
"The Queen has not allowed you to speak, scum!" shouted the same voice.
"That would not be necessary," Talanji's voice intervened. "I think our guest will quickly find out her place."
"Why am I in ..." - Sylvanas' voice broke again in a flood of lightning.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
This time, a stream of lightning pierced her body longer than before.
"Or maybe not," Talanji continued calmly, as if nothing special had happened. "I was under the impression that our guest was smart enough to understand such a simple concept. Perhaps I was wrong."
"You will regreAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!"
Apparently, every subsequent lightning strike was longer than the previous one. This time Sylvanas twitched hard enough to rip the strap on her forehead, which allowed to move her head around. The collar still blocked any further movements though.
"Hm. I think we should excuse our guest Akurra, or she will inevitably fry herself to unconsciousness. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"
The voice of Talanji was as calm as before. Sylvanas managed to turn her head to the side and finally saw her offender. Or rather, offenders.
This room was definitely one of the vaults inside the Zuldazar. It was decorated the same way as the rest of treasury was, except for one little difference: there were no riches to be seen around, no gold or gems or other objects of value. The room was entirely empty except for the large stone table which Sylvanas was so tightly fixed to. The Queen of Zandalari trolls stood two steps away from said table. On either side of her stood two unknown Zandalari trolls in shaman regalia, a male and a female, and judging by the looks of their faces these two took great joy of witnessing the former Dark Lady's demise.
"I am quite certain that you have questions, my dear. Many, many questions," said Talanji, emotionlessly eyeing the naked body of Sylvanas strapped on a sacrificial altar. "But I am afraid those questions no longer hold any value. Neither to you, nor to me."
The Zandalari Queen made a step forward.
"I must inform you that you no longer qualify as a Queen. Or as a Banshee. Or a Ranger. Or a sentient being, for that matter. You're a property. MY property," she stopped right next to Sylvanas' head and gave her a serene smile. "You cost me a lot of gold to acquire. One hundred and twenty million gold plus the crafting of necessary equipment. But, you see, I was more than willing to pay such an amount in order to acquire you. I wanted a chance to repay you in full for all the trouble you've caused my father, my people and me. Thus, I decided to make a trophy from you."
"What?!"
The thin smile on Talanji's lips widened a little.
"Yes, my dear. You are now nothing more than a trophy. An item. An object for my amusement."
Sylvanas' eyes narrowed at this statement.
"You're a fool, queen of troll savages," hissed the Banshee while attempting to turn into her ethereal shape. "When I return, you will pay dearly..."
"Ah yes, that," mockingly nodded Talanji. "It would be unfortunate if you could just fly away after I've spent such a fortune, wouldn't it? I guess it was a wise decision to procure these fascinating shackles from the goblin Cartel then. By all means, do try them out."
Much to Sylvanas' shock and surprise she found out that she is unable to convert her form. The familiar trick she's been using quite often lately didn't work. She even tried to abandon her body to escape as an intangible banshee hoping that she will be able to find a new filling body to possess, but the shackles completely blocked any attempt of escaping. The smile of Zandalari Queen turned to a satisfied smirk.
"Ah, the pleasant feeling of having competent allies. Akurra, send the Trade Prince a note of my approval. His blacksmiths and enchanters are to be commended for this work of art."
The female shaman bowed and quickly left the vault, leaving Talanji and the male troll with the former Warchief.
"What the hell do you want from me?!" shouted Sylvanas in fear, struggling to break out of the runed chains.
"Exactly what I said, my dear. I want a trophy," replied Talanji. "My vaults hold many of those amidst the remaining untold riches. Some of them are weapons and armor of old. Some of them are artifacts long forgotten by all. And some of them are the former enemies of Zandalari... carefully taken care of. For example, several dozens of enemies of my ancestors were once condemned to becoming such trophies. Their souls had been tied to mummified corpses and totems without release for over six centuries by now."
She gently and slowly ran a finger across Sylvanas' cheek. Then, when her hand moved down Banshee's chin, she suddenly gripped her neck in an asphyxiating grasp.
"I intend to outperform all of my line when I'm done with you, Bitch Queen of the Horde!" Talanji hissed in her face. "I will make an art, a magnum opus of our collection! You will serve as an amusement for my kin for millenia!"
At this point Sylvanas was afraid of Zandalari Queen more than she ever feared the Lich King. She tried to say something, perhaps to talk her out of this insanity, but Talanji was apparently done talking with her, or rather hearing anything coming from her mouth. She sealed Banshee's voice with a Silence hex.
"Property doesn't talk," smirked Talanji, facing her remaining servant who gave his ruler a silent mischievous smirk in return. "Have you prepared a fitting rack for my newest trophy?"
"Yes, my Queen," bowed the male troll. "The skewer be ready together with the rest of the gear," he gestured towards the box filled with various objects inside that stood right next to the altar.
"Good. You may proceed. I expect you to finish in an hour."
"With pleasure, my Queen," grinned the troll.
Talanji gave Sylvanas a final indifferent look and walked out of the vault. The former Ranger-General's frightened gaze followed the Zandalari Queen, then moved to the remaining troll shaman.
"It be a pleasure workin' on such a gorgeous body," the troll chuckled while stepping closer to the altar.
Sylvanas began twitching and thrashing even more frantically, not expecting anything pleasant to happen to her in the foreseeable future. The shaman stared at her movements with noticeable mix of desire and lust.
"A pity the Queen wants you fixtured right away, elfie," he let out a guttural chuckle. "I suggested that you be acquainted with the male population of Royal Guard first, but the Queen denied ye this privilege."
Sylvanas tried to say something in return, plead for help or offer something in return for being released, but the Silence seal on her neck was unrelenting. The troll gloated at her petty attempts.
"Ya'll be needin' that Silence hex in a moment, m'lady," whispered the shaman while shamelessly groping her naked body. "But before we be gettin' to the main course, I think I may indulge myself a bit. Hope ya don't mind!" he cackled maniacally, stretching both hands over her breasts.
The next moment a new torrent of lightning struck down at the Banshee Queen's body. This time it was focused between her nipples that were deliberately targeted by the shaman. And the troll clearly didn't want to stop anytime soon, continuing to fry her tits for almost a minute straight, which felt like an eternity for Sylvanas. When he finally stopped channeling the lightning, the elven warrior couldn't do much except for twitching spasmodically on the stone altar. Her eyes were bulging out, with dense streams of tears flowing across her face.
"Truly a shame. But alas, elfie, duty calls," the shaman sighed mockingly and walked out of Sylvanas' cone of vision in the direction of her chained legs. She could only stare aimlessly into the wall, crying her eyes out from the pain, suffering, shame and defeat.
Shortly afterwards she heard a weird sound of metal grinding against the stone coming from the side where the male troll went to. This sound made her shiver despite the fact that she had already been lying stark-naked on a stone table in a chilly underground vault. Then, a heavy metal rod suddenly dropped on top of her body. It slided forward past her belly and between her breasts towards her field of vision. With absolute horror Sylvanas saw a pointy metal pole two fingers thick with a sharp conical edge. The pole was slightly jagged over its entire length.
"Don't be starin' at this majestic shaft for too long, sweet cheeks. You'll have plenty of time for that later on. Ha-ha-ha!" guffawed the troll, dragging the pole back out of Sylvanas' vision. "Mighty generous of ya to be visitin' us as an already undead being, it saved us helluva work we'd have to do otherwise!"
Sylvanas kept trying to force her limbs out of these accursed chains. She also continued her attempts to leave the physical body and escape this hellish place even when the other troll shaman from before entered the vault once again. But unfortunately for her this goblin invention was truly made to last for millennia. 
"I used to wonder if ye elven bitches shave that often or it's a natural trait in yer kind. Guess now I get to find out," the shaman giggled menacingly, slapping her smooth public skin. "Took yer time I see," he said to his colleague. "Here, help me fixate this gorgeous one for the spitting."
"You be enjoyin' this, I see," smirked the female shaman.
"Who wouldn't?! Just look at it, we be workin' on a trophy that may well remain unsurpassed until the end of days!" responded the first troll.
"True that," agreed the second. "Alright, let me paralyze her."
The female shaman invoked a spell of shadow magic and threw it towards an altar. Sylvanas immediately felt the effect of this hex: her limbs went numb and she couldn't move a muscle despite putting all her effort into it.
"Done. Ya need a hand with that skewer?" asked the second troll.
"Nah, don't deprive a man of little joy here," grinned the first one. He lifted the metal shaft and brought the tip against the elven Ranger's anus. After properly positioning the skewer, he chuckled: "Savor the moment, elfie. You won't be feelin' it again in a lifetime. Or a hundred of lifetimes, ha-ha-ha!"
Then he thrusted the pole forward.
Sylvanas immediately felt the cold metal invading her ass. Her eyes widened even further and more tears began flowing down her face, covering it with additional mascara traces. Her immobile body couldn't withstand this abuse no matter how hard she tried. Slowly and painfully the metal stake has penetrated her ass and began moving upwards.
"Mind highlightin' her innards Akurra?" said the male troll while he slowly kept pushing through Sylvanas' body.
"Why do you care? She won't be needin' any. She's undead, and a fine one at that," the female gave her colleague a puzzled look.
"That true, but the Queen would want a perfect picture. Can't ruin it by breakin' through anywhere but mouth, you know," explained the torturer.
"Oh. Good thinkin', very good thinkin' there," nodded the second shaman. She raised her hands and cast a few spells on Sylvanas' body: "There, that good?"
"Perfect!" exclaimed the male troll and sped up the process of penetrating the victim's body with a metal pole.
Sylvanas felt every bit of this horrendous abuse. What's worse, she couldn't die of it because she was already an undead creature. She couldn't even pass away from the pain. All she could do was silently lay in defeat on top of the stone altar, waiting for her executioners to have their way with her immortal body.
Apparently, the male troll's expertise was beyond admirable. He managed to penetrate Sylvanas' flesh from her anus right to her gullet. The female immediately grabbed the former Warchief's head and snapped it back so that the skewer could safely come past her lips. Sylvanas once again saw the pointy tip of the metal spit, but this time it came right out of her mouth. As a result the entire pole went all the way through her body without visually damaging any part of it.
"Loa be witness, this is my finest work!" said the male shaman in astonishment.
"Easy to do that when the body isn't mummified to da state when its crumblin' to bits in the process, ya know?" grinned the female, cancelling the paralysis hex.
"True, but that makes it even more excitin', don't ya think?"
"There be a certain appeal to it, yes."
"C'mon, lets put this skewer where it belongs to."
Two trolls carefully unconnected the chains that kept Sylvanas fixed to the altar. She immediately tried to leave her body and escape, but the shackles and the collar that she still wore continued to block her every attempt. The trolls then hooked both of her hands behind her back in an armbinder made of leather which was taken out of the nearby box. Her feet soon followed when trolls bent them and bound both soles to the spit pole between them.
After this two shamans picked up the pole and brought it off the altar, moving it closer to the front wall of the vault. They then lifted the stake with their victim on it and inserted the farthest end of a metal pillar into a hole in the left wall that was roughly three feet high from the ground. With that being done they rotated this metal rod half a circle so that the naked elven body would move along with it. The male troll grabbed the end of a thin metal chain dangling from the wall next to a lever. Pulling that chain from what seemed to be a sort of reeling mechanism above the now horizontal shaft he went back to Sylvanas' suspended body. Once the chain was extended long enough, he locked its last link with the collar under Sylvanas' nape.
"Beautiful..." mumbled the first shaman, once again groping Sylvanas' breasts that were now slightly hanging down towards the floor. "The Queen will absolutely adore ya, elfie."
"The Queen already does," came the voice of Talanji who managed to enter the vault undetected while two of her underlings admired their work. "Absolute perfection," she mused, passing by both shamans who once again bowed before their Queen.
The ruler of Zandalari stopped right next to the silently weeping body of a former Warchief and carefully fondled the victim's back.
"You will be the most magnificent of our trophies," Talanji quietly whispered into a pointy elven ear: "Forever. Until the time itself ends. Magnificent."
Sylvanas couldn't even peek at her new owner who stood just outside her corner of view. Her head was now immobile because of the long metal spike coming right through her mouth. All she could do now was to weep silently while wriggling and squirming on the spit pole.
"Akurra, push her to the starting position," commanded Talanji to her underling.
The second shaman immediately rushed forward. She put her hands on to Sylvanas' shoulders and looked into her tearful eyes.
"I wouldn't recommend clenchin' your teeth right now honey," menacingly grinned the female troll while staring at the horrified expression of her victim. Then she started pushing Sylvanas down the serrated pole almost all the way towards the left wall. The chain rang loudly while being reeled back into the wall mechanism.
The elven woman felt every single notch on that pole with her violated innards. The damage done to her soles wasn't even noticeable compared to it. She tried to scream in excruciating agony, but all she could squeeze out was a quiet wheezing in the face of her tormentor. Unsurprisingly, this only seemed to excite the cruel shaman, as well as her mistress, even more.
"Now, my dear Sylvanas, I would like to play a game with you," smiled Talanji, ogling her helpless trophy skewered on a very long metal shaft. "You see these notches on the spit? Surely you do. You can feel them too, can't you? So here are the rules for our little game of attrition."
She straightened herself and walked towards the pointy end of the metal shaft. Then she turned back to face Sylvanas who stared back at her, silently sobbing in utter defeat.
"You can try to put yourself off this spit. All you need to do is to slowly move yourself forward by moving your feet against the pole. You may use your teeth to clench the pole between these moves. It may take you some time, yes, but I don't think that you have anything else to be busy with in the foreseeable future. And once you're off the pole... well, let's say that I may find your imprisonment complete."
Sylvanas tried to voice an objection. Or maybe an agreement to these terms. Or perhaps something else. But unfortunately for her all she could mumble was incoherent whispering.
"I guess my terms aren't quite agreeable for you. It's a shame, really," said Talanji in a mocking defeat. "Akurra, put a cap on the other side of the pole."
The female troll ran to the nearby box and took out a large ornate metal wheel. She brought it to the pointy end of the skewer and began fastening it. Sylvanas' eyes went round and she started squirming erratically on the pole. New tears immediately found their way towards the stone floor of the vault.
"Now wait just a moment, Akurra. It would seem that our guest would like to accept the terms of this game," smiled the Zandalari Queen, halting her servant's actions. The victim desperately tried to nod her head in spite of being unable to do so, and this amused Talanji even more.
"Ah, I knew that you'd like my little game. I am quite adept at inventing those," she laughed loudly, throwing her head back. Her servants echoed their mistress.
"Alright then. I think this might take your attention for quite a long time, my dear trophy. I will try not to forget about your presence here. Enjoy the game," said Talanji, gently patting Sylvanas' hair before walking out of the vault. The female shaman followed her Queen while the male one lingered behind for a moment.
"I think ya should make haste with this game, elfie," he whispered malevolently into Sylvanas' ear, while painfully pinching her nipple. "The Queen be in the good mood today. Ya might not like her in her bad mood. Ha-ha-ha!"
He gave the victim's protruding ass a strong slap and walked out of the hidden vault, laughing maniacally. The vault door closed behind him with a loud thud.
 
 


 
Sylvanas had no idea how long did this infernal torture last. She could barely move in these tight bindings and whenever she tried to move further across the pole by moving her feet around the pole, she inevitably moved backwards the same distance. Soon she realized that she will definitely need to use her teeth to clench on one of the notches that were so 'conveniently' carved into the metal rod. This allowed her to crawl through several dozens of those notches, although she had no way of tracking the time it took her to do so. When she made it to approximately middle of the skewer, she heard the sound of vault door opening.
"Good morning, my dearest trophy," greeted her victim Talanji. This time she arrived alone. But did that 'morning' mean that Sylvanas spent the whole day to move through a little less than half of her horrible path? She could only guess.
"Ah, I see that you are making some progress, my dear. That's good. But I am afraid that it is not good enough," said Talanji grinning right in Sylvanas' agonized face. "I'm having an impression that you are... not motivated enough. We have to fix that, right?"
The female elf could only move her lips against the spit pole, trying to say something, to plead for mercy or to ask for a release from this humiliation and suffering. She was even willing to plead for a swift death, only to finish this endless torment. But apparently the Queen of Zandalari still didn't think it was nearly enough.
"Truly, you hurt me with your insolence, my dear. I came up with an exciting game to entertain my guest, but you outright refuse to put any real effort in it. You offend me with such actions, Sylvanas."
Talanji straightened herself and walked towards the lever on the wall next to where the chain was hidden. She turned around towards her victim and pulled the lever down.
The reeling device started rattling loudly, winding the metal chain and pulling Sylvanas' tortured body all the way back to the start. She tried to get a hold on the spit, unwilling to lose what little progress she was made to achieve, but the ruthless mechanism was unrelenting.
"As you may have already guessed, this will be your additional motivation from now on," whispered Talanji to the shuddering Sylvanas. "You need to pull ALL your effort into this game of mine. Otherwise your progress will be reset every morning. Take your time, my sweet trophy."
She left the vault, leaving absolutely devastated sobbing victim behind.
 


 
 
At least now Sylvanas had a way to keep track of the days. It did not bring her any relief though.
The first nine attempts were an utter failure. She could barely make it past the center of the pole. Talanji was not pleased. On the ninth day she graced Sylvanas with a parting gift of a Shadow word: Pain hex that lasted for several hours. The former Banshee Queen couldn't even move an inch under the effect of this cruel spell and she was very afraid that the next time Talanji might curse her again to her own amusement.
However on the tenth day Talanji did not even bother coming all the way down her hidden vault. Instead she sent her servant, the male shaman from back then, to perform the daily duty of resetting Sylvanas' progress on the spit shaft. At first the elven woman was somewhat relieved that there will be no additional surge of excruciating pain for today. That relief swiftly turned into a new degree of horror and desperation when the shaman bent down to face the tortured victim.
"See, elfie, I did give ye an advice to make haste, didn't I?" he said softly to Sylvanas' pleading eyes while painfully jerking her hair with a strong arm. "It would seem ye actually managed to get on my Queen's bad mood in the end. That won't be very good for ye, trust me. It will, however, be quite good for me! Ha-ha-ha!"
He let out a rolling laugh across the hidden vault, then leaned towards the woman's face once more.
"Don't know if the Queen will ever bother herself with ye again, elfie. Which means that I be in charge of your game room from now on until the Queen changes her mind. And you clearly managed to infuriate her. For that, I am grateful, ha-ha-ha!"
What happened next, Sylvanas clearly did not expect. And she bitterly regretted that she could not make it off the skewer in time.
After resetting the victim's position on the pole, the male troll rotated her body another half a circle, turning the woman on the pole so that her breasts once again point out at the ceiling. After doing this, he walked past Sylvanas' face towards her back while defiantly removing the bottom part of his armor. She almost immediately understood where this is going and tried to voice an objection, with the usual degree of success. These petty attempts as well as her renewed squirming only made the troll more excited, so he threw his left leg over the spit pole and immediately moved forward to the cherished elven cunt.
"Haven't had an opportunity to have my way with one of ye since that Alliance raid first failed to take on our Conclave in Dazar'alor," the shaman told her. "And that void-something didn't last long much to my dismay. At least your body is resilient enough to withstand some of dem troll poundings. Also, its not like you're going anywhere anytime soon, ha-ha-ha!"
Unable to change anything, Sylvanas could only grit her teeth trying to suppress the agonizing exhalations every time this troll's oversized cock penetrated her cunt and scraped her womb against the serrated metal shaft inside her flesh. Part of her tormented mind tried to figure out where her body got this much fluid for all these tears that dripped on the stone floor of the vault. She tried to count the seconds while the male troll kept raping her by violently slamming his own thick skewer inside her cunt, but she lost count somewhere between five and six thousand. The shaman was tireless, and whenever his stamina seemed to be somewhat dwindling, he stimulated himself by casting lightning surges to the most sensitive parts of Sylvanas' body. The worst part of this rape, torture and abuse was the fact that the longer this troll kept violating her, the less time she'll have remaining to get herself off this infernal pole. When the troll male was finally satisfied with his unwilling victim, Sylvanas was even more of a ruined mess than ever before. She didn't even have the strength to sob and whine, and could only blink while blindly staring into the opposite wall of the vault.
The shaman dismounted himself off her thighs, turned her body upside down once more and gave Sylvanas a wide satisfied smirk.
"A pity ye weren't quite responsive today, my love. Maybe next time ye'll be feelin' better. Maybe tomorrow? Ha!"
He robed himself, and moved to the exit of the vault. Before he left, he turned around and threw a huge blob of chilly water at Sylvanas in order to wipe out the mess of liquids from her body.
"Don't get bored too much, elfie. And think about what I be tellin' ye earlier. Make haste, lest our Queen forgets about your existence completely, ha-ha-ha!"
The stone door of the vault closed with the already familiar sound.
And it took Sylvanas over an hour extra to muster enough strength to move forward one notch.
 


 
 
The daily horror went from bad to worse every time. After twenty 'resets' Sylvanas lost the track of days. The male troll that continued to come down to the vault to brutalize and torture her undying body kept inventing more and more ways to abuse the elven flesh. The lightning shocks were soon replaced with the branding by hot lava combined with the regular physical abuse. Three times that sadistic shaman relieved her from rape – but replaced it with several hours of whipping and flogging using the devices from that accursed 'toy box', and every time the tortured victim wished that he'd 'simply' violently raped her instead. After the third time he had her whipped into unconsciousness, Sylvanas regained her senses from an excruciating pain coming from her overstretched nipples: the troll pierced them both with golden rings, then attached two huge golden ingots to hang down from those. The former Warchief couldn't think straight with these hellish weights attached to her body and part of her mind longed for that her nipples would finally succumb to this pull and get torn down from her breasts. That day she couldn't even make it to one quarter of the desired distance.
The torture continued unabated. A few days later the shaman arrived just to give her a pat on the head and put some totem-like object inside her tortured cunt. Then he immediately left. Sylvanas thought that this would be her lucky day and began squirming on the skewer with quadrupled efforts. However after four hours of her frantic progression she lost her mind to the absolutely brutal thrashing in her pussy caused by the totem that activated all of a sudden, jerking around like an agitated horse. The notch on a pole she got stuck on that day was probably ground even deeper than all the others after Sylvanas kept mindlessly digging her teeth in it for over six hours straight. When the troll came to visit her the next morning, he smiled viciously at the large pool of liquids on the stone floor under her body.
This brutal torment continued for months and the woman couldn't even tell an approximate quantity of times her torturer has visited her in this vault. Hell, she couldn't even tell which season it could be outside after she lost her duel before the gates of Orgrimmar in the late summer. Perhaps it was winter? Or maybe even the next summer? She couldn't tell. Her world narrowed town to pain, torture, rape, disgrace, humiliation, despair and agony. And a metal spit pole which was still sticking out of her mouth.
One of these typical days she heard the usual stone rumbling that announced her daily dose of violation and hurt. Once again she couldn't even make it to the middle of the skewer. Tears of defeat have once again started flowing from her eyes. However much to her surprise the oh so hated male troll did not give her a regular greeting ass slap. In fact, she didn't even hear his loathsome voice.
"Rise an' shine, sweetie," came the voice of the female shaman she've heard all those days? weeks? months ago? "I see that he roughed ya up quite nicely, didn't he?"
The undead elf already expected a surge of abuse to hit her exhausted flesh somewhere right after the chain would finish dragging her back, but the pain was yet to come. The female troll kneeled next to Sylvanas' eyes instead.
"I wonder if you're motivated enough now, elf," she said to the Banshee's face, smiling.
Sylvanas, the last bit of her will shattered months ago, could only move her eyes up and down, admitting her complete submission and obedience. The female shaman grinned.
"Great news for ya than, sweetie. He won't be around for two days. Ya have all the time in the world!" she giggled before turning around to leave. "This might be yer best chance of winning in our Queen's game, you know."
The moment Sylvanas' brain managed to comprehend the 'great news', she began wiggling and squirming around with all the strength her body could possibly have and then some. The world around, the pain in her intensities and her legs, it all disappeared from her sight. The only thing that existed in her mind was the hated metal rod inside her body. And she was dead set on overcoming this obstacle this time. Because to fail this exceptionally rare opportunity would equal to condemn herself to a second eternity of rape and torture.
The shaman left the vault with a wide smile on her face while the brutalized elven woman kept struggling to get herself off the skewer.
 
 


 
"Hey there, sweetie!"
The female troll's voice pulled her out of unconsciousness.
"Wow, ya almost made it this time," said the shaman, kneeling once again next to the elven woman's face. Sylvanas focused her eyes on the spit pole and noticed that she indeed almost made it to the end. This did not bring her any happiness though, because she knew what will inevitably happen next. She turned her desperate pleading gaze on the female troll.
"Sorry, sweetie. Queen's orders," shrugged the shaman, smiling somewhat awkwardly. She stood up and walked towards the lever on the wall. "But hey, ya still have one more attempt before that fella gets back in town."
Despite the fact that she knew it by now, Sylvanas still couldn't resist but try to bite into the skewer to save her daily progress. But the reeling device could not be persuaded anyhow, and dragged her violently all the way back to the start. However, the troll shaman did not leave the vault right away like she did yesterday. She kneeled by Sylvanas' face for the second time today.
"Hey, ya know what?" she said in a low whisper. "I think I can give ya a hand... in a way. I could loosen the bindings on yer feet just a little extra so that ya may move forward slightly faster. Do ya want me to do that?"
Sylvanas' entire body twitched in agonizing spasm while she tried to perform a nod to the shaman. The female troll smiled widely.
"Alright, alright, don't overdo yerself," she chuckled, gently patting Sylvanas' head. "Ye'll need all that strength later. Just promise me that ye won't tell about this to anyone, especially my Queen!"
The woman once again tried to express her full cooperation. The troll giggled and disappeared from her sight. In a few seconds Sylvanas felt the shaman's fingers tampering with the bindings that held her legs in a tight lock, which could allow her to move forward not one notch a time, but two or maybe even three. For the first time in an eternity of desperation and disgrace a faint spark of hope has lit in her mind. The moment that troll shaman has finished readjusting her bindings, Sylvanas made a first push.
The female troll left the vault without looking back.
 


 
 
She was getting close. She was getting very close to the end of this horrid skewer. Closer than she'd ever been ever since she woke up in this vault.
The freedom was so close. The end to Talanji's cruel game was at hand. This was the only thought that remained inside Sylvanas' mind. She could not dream of revenge or anything like that. All she hoped for was the freedom. And that freedom was just about two dozens of notches further from her teeth.
Move her feet.
Bite.
Move her feet.
Bite.
The cycle that would bring her the well-deserved freedom eventually.
Sylvanas did not think about how exactly will she leave the vault, much less the Dazar'alor city itself. She could think about that later.
Move her feet.
Bite.
Move her feet.
Bite.
Less than a dozen of notches remained. And the spit pole began to narrow down, forming the sharp edge that penetrated her tortured body all the way through millenia ago.
Move her feet.
Bite.
Move her feet.
And suddenly something far behind her back gave out a loud click.
The click came from the reeling device inside the wall of this damned vault. Sylvanas couldn't see it, but she heard that click too many times to mistake it with anything else.
The freedom was a lie. The mechanism had an automatic trigger that would reset the length of her leash if she actually made it to the end of the pole.
The last fragments of the elven woman's sanity were shattered to dust with the ringing of the reeling chain.
"My Queen, dis be de most glorious thing I've seen since de founding of Zandalari empire," said an unknown male troll voice. That voice was full of otherworldly background in it. When Sylvanas' body was being dragged for the umpteenth time, her eyes that were full of tears of desperation have spotted a transparent silhouette of Bwonsamdi that stood right next to Talanji, with both shamans flanking their Queen at a respectful distance. It would seem that they've been observing her hopeless rush from behind, in utter silence. The male shaman was smiling, but the female one had an outright vengeful grin that horrified the elven woman to the core.
A lie. Everything was a lie.
"I hope you've had plenty of amusement, Bwonsamdi," said Talanji, staring at the devastated body of the former Warchief.
"Delightful! Absolutely delightful! I be relishin' dis moment in my perfect memory for ages! For Millenia!" exclaimed for Loa of Death.
"Glad that you're pleased for once. So tell me now, Bwonsamdi, do you consider her a fair trade to undo the pact you've made with Rastakhan?" asked the Queen, turning to face the Loa directly.
"Aye. I was thinkin' about tradin' for her from the start, my Queen," grinned the Loa. "However, I be havin' a better idea right now. Ya interested, Talanji?"
The Zandalari Queen narrowed her eyes.
"You're backing on your own offer, Loa?!"
"No, no, nothing of de sorts, my Queen!" Bwonsamdi waved his hands in rejection. "In fact, I'll be unsealin' the pact we've made with Rastakhan right away so that ye won't be havin' any thoughts about me betrayin' ya!"
He snapped his fingers and the tainted mark on Talanji's hand slowly dispersed into nothing.
"Then what did you mean about 'having a better idea'?" asked Talanji, inspecting her own hand.
"Oh yes. Ya see, my glorious Queen, I am not sure dat I could do better than yer masterful performance 'ere," grinned the Loa of Death. "So my new offer be as follows: keep dis one in yer custody for entertainment and pleasure. Namely, my occasional pleasure, my Queen. Think ye can do that from time to time? Think ye can let the good ol' Bwonsamdi feast his eyes upon yer masterpiece?"
At this moment Sylvanas felt the mix of dread and fear she never thought she'd be capable of feeling. Every muscle in her body twitched in agony as she tried to get herself away from these horrible creatures. Away from the horror. Away from Talanji.
The Queen smiled slowly.
"It is a deal then, Loa of Death. For as long as my line lives, this trophy will suffer. For my amusement. For the amusement of my kin. And for yours."
"Den long live de Queen Talanji! Ha-ha-ha-ha!" let out a bellowing laughter Bwonsamdi.
Turning around the ruler of Zandalari has left the hidden vault followed by her new favorite Loa. This has concluded the lengthy story of the pact made by king Rastakhan.
Unfortunately for Sylvanas, her own macabre story had only begun.
 


 
 
At some point she stopped trying to crawl out of her misery, simply accepting her punishment in defeat.
Then at some point she resumed her hopeless attempts, because the suffering was impossible to bear.
And then she's given up again. Then again. And again. These cycles continued as Sylvanas explored her limits of both despair and agony further and further. She went utterly insane several times, but was forced out of the salvation of pure madness almost immediately by the combined efforts of two torturers who were now permanently appointed to her ever-hurting body. Many times the troll Loa of Death arrived to bear witness of the most excruciating torments. His pleasure knew no limits, as did the Banshee's eternal pain. At some point her two constant visitors ran out of creative ways of inflicting untold amounts of suffering, so they would just need to start over. But unfortunately for Sylvanas, the female shaman eventually came up with the 'great idea' of combining multiple ways of torture at once, and the process went further and further with every passing day. Until the permanently partially insane mind of an elven woman came up with an idea of her own.
Yes, it was impossible to get her body off this skewer. It was the most cruel of Talanji's games. But maybe, just maybe, she could somehow undo the armbinder that held her arms in a permanent lock for two eternities by now. Maybe she could grind the leather it was made of by hundreds, thousands, millions tiny movements?
It was better than nothing after all.
 
 


 
The executioner duo was very unhappy with the recent decrease in Sylvanas' reaction to their rape and torture, and tried to get under her skin (sometimes literally) as if it would be one of her usual phases of submission. Oddly enough, their efforts were in vain, which angered them to no bounds. Further intensification of abuse did not yield an estimated response.
The woman didn't know if she'll even be able to tear down her shackles. She didn't think about it. In fact, she didn't think about anything at all. She simply kept trying to grind her arms and her legs one against another in hope for a miracle. One day it would definitely happen.
One day it did.
The world outside eventually began to forget about the so-called 'fourth war'. After all, it took place more than twenty years ago. Sentient beings had some other things to do.
The victim of Zandalari cruelty however didn't. She kept grinding. And her efforts bore fruit when cords of the bindings finally gave in to the applied force. With a very quiet pop the lacing on the leather armbinder was torn. Sylvanas froze still at this sound. The next moment she was frantically shaking her aching hands after letting them loose from that devious device. After several short stretches she put her right hand on her chin and found the latch that attached the reeling chain to her enchanted collar. Her fingers were shaking when she finally managed to undo the latch. The chain dropped on the ground with a loud jingle before reeling all the way back to the wall.
Next stop were the straps on her feet. Sylvanas spent almost a hundred of attempts trying to undo those, and ultimately she succeeded in damaging one of the wires. With several more twitches she tore out her left leg from the binding which caused them to drop down on the ground releasing her right leg as well. Now all she needed to do was to defeat her final enemy, the arch nemesis.
The spit pole.
Sylvanas grabbed the oh so vehemently hated metal rod protruding from her mouth with both hands and pulled herself forward a whole foot. Then another one. And another one. Her limbs were shaking from the excitement. The elven woman steadily dragged her beaten flesh to the tip of the pole, until the pointy end finally hid itself back in her mouth. Without being able to move herself by arms any longer, she began pushing her body forward using her legs. It was much harder than before, but she made a slow progress until the tip went all the way back to her stomach. This allowed her to bend forward and start using her hands once again to pull the skewer outside. Or rather, pull herself off the skewer. The final two feet of its length were the hardest. Her innards were on fire, because now the full weight of her body added to their pressure against the metal pole.
And in the end, the sharp metal tip came out of her violated anus.
Sylvanas powerlessly dropped on the cold stony floor, trying to catch some breath. Her entire body was aching, despite being that of an undead, protesting against such horrendous abuse. She tried to roll over and get on all fours, then stand up straight. She fell back down almost immediately, realizing that she almost forgot how to walk after all the time spent in this dungeon. It took her a couple minutes to finally stand up on a shaky legs and make a few weakly steps towards the exit.
Oh. Right. The exit.
The vault was closed.
Her tears of joy dried out almost instantly. Yes, she made it off that accursed spit pole. But she won't be able to break through the vault door made of enchanted stone. It was simply not possible.
She had to find a way through. Her mind was trying to find a solution.
Her runed collar and the shackles on her limbs were still preventing her from turning into a spectre. Perhaps she could somehow unlock them with some of the horrendous gear the duo of tormentors had used on her body?
Sylvanas limped towards the 'toy box' and dropped on her knees to rummage inside. Her own hands tried to disobey her, for they outright refused to touch these torturers' tools that delivered untold anguish and pain on her body. But she kept trying to overpower herself and eventually her fingers stumbled upon a box of various needles which were one of the favorite toys of the female troll visitor. She pulled the box outside and dropped its contents on the stone altar, searching for a needle that would suit her demands. She chose one and tried to undo the first shackle, the one that held captive her left wrist.
Sylvanas spent over two hours straight trying to pick that lock. What's left of her hope, was replaced by a deepest fright she ever felt. She couldn't even fathom the consequences that would befall her should she fail to escape this dungeon before her torturers come back to have their ways with her flesh. Her fingers were shaking from these horrid thoughts, and the statistically improbable chances of picking any of these locks, much less all nine of them, went down straight to exactly zero.
At some point she realized the futility of her efforts. Breaking out of these shackles was impossible. Therefore she only had one last chance.
She had to surprise her jailors and kill them, then escape Talanji's treasury.
Sylvanas ran back to the box of horrors looking for something that could do as a makeshift weapon. And finally she found a dagger.
It was a ritual dagger that was given by Bwonsamdi to the female shaman after she managed to deeply impress the Loa of Death with her expertise the first time. Bwonsamdi asked Akurra to use that specific dagger on Sylvanas' body in order to multiply her pain sensitivity and turn her muffled screaming into a true symphony of agony. The shaman happily obliged to the desires of Loa and kept using that dagger whenever she wanted to cut an immortal elf's body.
Now the dagger will become her instrument of revenge. And then she'll find her way out.
Sylvanas moved her bruised body to the wall right next to the entrance and dropped on her knees. She couldn't rest. She had to wait until her enemies arrive.
 
 


 
Some time has certainly passed. She had no way of tracking it, but it should've been at least two hours by now. Or maybe twelve, she couldn't tell. She hasn't seen the daylight for over twenty years by now. And she didn't even know that.
Suddenly she heard a faint sound of footsteps. Her grip on the dagger tightened and she prepared to use all of her remaining strength to murder her offenders.
The stone door to the hidden vault gave out a rumble and started moving to the side, unlocking the path for two familiar trolls.
The victim dashed forward and struck against her torturers. She made a cut across the throat of the male shaman, then a stab to the heart of the female one. Two unsuspecting corpses dropped on the ground of the vault. Sylvanas slowly exhaled and dropped down between her targets. The dagger she was still holding in her right hand kept clattering against the stone floor because her hand was shaking like mad.
She took some time to recover. She couldn't even remember the last time Talanji visited her 'beloved' trophy in this dungeon, so Sylvanas was fairly certain that the Zandalari queen will be nowhere nearby. Still, the elven warrior had to escape this hellhole, and soon.
Sylvanas stood up and stepped outside of the vault. It would seem that this section of treasury had been abandoned years ago, and her torturers were in fact the only visitors in this section of the underground of Dazar'alor. This definitely was in favor of her chances of leaving this place, so she decided to make a run for it. She gave two shaman corpses a hateful glare and hurried out of the vaults.
After several failed attempts to find an exit in this makeshift labyrinth, Sylvanas stumbled upon a passageway to the section of treasury that was clearly under active use. This was her chance!
Suddenly, her vision blacked out and her body fell on the cold ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Before losing her consciousness she heard a faint chuckle with otherworldly sounds in it.
 
 


 
When she regained her senses, Sylvanas found herself blind as a mole. Someone has put a blindfold on her face. And much to her horror she felt that her body had been penetrated by a stake once again. Only this time it did not quite reach her mouth and was positioned vertical, so that her body would also be standing straight.
"She be awake, my Queen," came the Bwonsamdi's voice.
Sylvanas heard a quiet rustle of clothes coming closer, until it stopped. Then a second later a loud crack of the whip was heard. The same instant her body was hit by a brutal heavy thong across her chest. The hit was so sudden and hurt so much that Sylvanas couldn't help but let out a tormented shriek.
"AAAAAAAAAAGk~"
"Silence!" shouted the voice of Talanji and Sylvanas immediately felt the effect of a Silence hex cutting out her voice. "You insolent, disgraceful bitch!"
Crack!
The second blow fell across her left breast and flank. Her nipple felt like it was burned by the familiar lava brand.
"You dared to escape from your prison!"
Crack!
The third blow hit both Sylvanas' tits. She tried to scream once again, to no avail.
"You dared to SUCCEED!"
Crack!
Another blow fell on her lower chest. But apparently Talanji wasn't quite done with her.
"And you dared to attack my entertainers! You KILLED them!"
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Sylvanas' body dangled under the force of these blows from side to side, causing her additional pain from the stake her flesh was put on. Oddly enough, her arms and legs remained undamaged.
"You! Miserable! Scum!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"You should've known your place!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"You are a trophy, wretch! Trophy doesn't run! Trophy doesn’t fight back!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"Thanks to you I've lost two of my best torturers! Who gave you the right to kill them?!"
Crack! Crack!
"And the worst of it!"
Crack!!!
It would seem that Talanji brought all of her strength on that one.
"You made me!"
Crack!!!
And that one.
"RUIN MY MASTERPIECE!"
CRACK!!!
The reinforced thong broke apart during the last blow.
Sylvanas' entire body hurt like it was swimming simultaneously in a lava pool and an ice cold lake full of sharp nails. The blindfold on her face was already soaking wet from the tears running from her bulging eyes. Never before had she wanted to find peace in the final death so much. Either Talanji graced her with a Pain hex every time she struck her flesh with her whip, or the whip itself had a pain amplification enchantment.
"Unacceptable. Intolerable. Insufferable."
Talanji's voice was dripping with sheer fury and anger.
"Your stupidity and arrogance cost you and me both dearly, trophy."
What?
"Still, you'll suffer from it much more than I'll do. In a way, I can consider that a partial redemption of your sins."
What could that possibly mean?
Sylvanas had to escape this hell. And soon.
"She's all yours, Loa. And I don't want to hear her or anything about her until the sun dies out. Do you understand?"
"Crystal clear, my glorious Queen. I be makin' sure of dat. Ye may seal de entrance to dis vault forever now."
"Good."
With that being said Talanji must've departed the place where Sylvanas recently woke up in.
She needed to escape! Now!
"Ah, my dear playthin'. With utmost regret I must inform you dat you won't be escapin' anywhere. Ever."
Bwonsamdi's voice circled her around, whispering into her ears.
"But before we start on the topic, I be havin' a question for ye. I am quite curious to hear an answer to it, honey. Ye may speak, now. So tell me, who gave ye such a stupid idea to kill two of me priests with a ceremonial dagger imbued by me own power?"
"What?!" wheezed Sylvanas between coughs that kept shaking her mutilated body.
"Oh. I see, I see. It wasn't even an idea. Fascinatin'. Truly, dere be nothing more of an infinite dan de stupidity of a mortal being. Especially so if she is no longer mortal. Heh."
"Please... let me... go..."
"Shhh. Dere be no more goin' anywhere for ya, honey."
"Please..."
"Oh, right, ya still haven't noticed. Here, take a look-see."
The wet blindfold was removed from her face. Sylvanas looked around and her heart went still.
She was inside of a very dark hall, nearly six times larger than the vault she was kept inside until recently. The entire hall was filled with various torture tools, devices and equipment Sylvanas never even heard about. This whole place was a temple, a sacred ground to a single purpose: inflicting unimaginable torment upon the helpless victims. Or in this case one specific victim.
Before her stood Bwonsamdi, the Loa of Death. He had the most pleased grin Sylvanas ever saw on his face. Behind him she could see two coffins covered with gray sheets of cloth.
Then she finally took a look at herself, and couldn't suppress a horrified scream. It would seem that the Zandalari Queen was so mad because she was forced to ruin Sylvanas' body. Her limbs were completely removed together with the runed shackles. Instead of them her chest now had four metallic stumps made of the same metal her shackles were forged of. Sylvanas once again tried to leave her flesh, but it was as expected: the stumps clearly held her in this prison of her own ruined body. A body that had been reduced to a fuck nugget, impaled on a spike as an actual trophy Talanji was so fond of.
Tears that were flowing from the eyes of what once used to be an elf woman started dripping on her exposed breasts that were beaten to pulp by Talanji's reinforced thong. But before Sylvanas could cry out loud in all her desperation, the Loa put his hand on her mouth, effectively silencing the victim.
"Shhh. We're just gettin' started, honey. As much as it pained Talanji to lose dese two artists..."
Bwonsamdi stepped back and raised both hands. Then he made a loud double snap with his fingers.
"…it was my unmitigated pleasure to finally acquire them fer myself."
Two cloth sheets on the coffins dropped to the ground, releasing two undead trolls from beneath them. A male and a female. Ready and eager to deliver countless sufferings upon their prey. For all eternity.
And then Sylvanas screamed.
