Degencraft 11 - Costume (Patreon)

“Don't you think something is strange about Aunt Jaina's costume?” Anduin asked. He was among a large group of individuals invited to a formal costume ball in Kul'Tiras. It was possibly one of the most unexpected events since the Legion invasion, since not only did the Lord Admiral not enjoy parties, or people, or holidays, but she especially did not like Horde and they were invited to show up as well. Anduin was not sure who had shown up in total, but the more he looked the longer the list grew.

“The fact that she's wearing it.” Tess stated. The Greymane girl was dressed in a red hood that covered her regular clothing and to complete the effect she carried a basket. The stern girl was rather annoyed that she was among the few individuals that showed up in an actual costume, even if hers was somewhat low effort.

“She's dressed as a demon, which is unexpected, but it's obviously an illusion. I don't sense an ounce of fel on her.” The princess was an accomplished huntress in her own right. Despite never becoming a worgen she was more than capable of sniffing out a real demon.

Anduin did not actually expect Jaina's costume to be real. It was more just that he was as surprised as Tess for her to be wearing it. The powerful mage was playing courteous hostess to the party of powerful individuals in... Nothing. She seemed so comfortable in nothing that Anduin wondered if it was really her at all. That being said, he had to acknowledge that there was no way the nothing she was wearing was her actual body. It could not be. She was a foot taller and her form was thicker to match. Her breasts were heavy on her bare chest and donned twin piercings of half anchors in silver that dangled from her nipples. Her feet had become cloven hooves that confidently traversed the solid tile floor with satisfying, heavy tapping sounds. She had a long, thick, swooping tail that many guests had to get out of the way of as she turned. She could be picked out most prominently by her formerly pale white skin that had become a shade of ice blue. To compliment it her silver hair had darkened to a deeper, gray shade. On her head, her ears had become long and pointed and sat beneath large, curved horns that were the shine and consistency of black ice. Her eyes and lips both carried a malicious glint, with fangs shining behind her ever-present coy smile. It was incredibly hard to not look at her.

“What's more disturbing is that you and all the other leaders seem to think you are too important to have dressed up.” Tess complained.

Anduin waved a hand at her. “No no. It's not necessary.”

Tess narrowed her eyes at the prince. “Even the two Aspects dressed up. Their costumes are riske, as well.” She pointed over to the corner of the room where the green and red Aspects were standing near an orc. They were chained to him loosely by heavy collars around their necks. Their bodies were done up more as though the were mounts, with harnesses around their naked elven forms. The two girls had red and green jewels hanging like beads from those harnesses. The impression Tess got was that they were not dressed, but decorated. The two women did not even seem fully aware of their surroundings. Their eyes were covered by solid blinds so that only the bottom halves of their faces were shown. Occasionally, when she glanced over she would see them perform an act of kneeling for a show in front of other orcs at their handler's behest.

“It does feel like something strange is going on here.” She finally decided.

“Oh, relax. It's Jaina. What is the worst that could happen?” As Anduin said that, Jaina's hooves made sounds that echoed through the hall above the din of the conversations. She made her way up to the stage and cleared her throat in an amplified manner. Everyone turned to stare, mostly because there was quite a lot to stare at.

“Thank you all for showing up to my little Hallows End Bash.” She said cordially. After that brief, bright greeting she frowned.
“But it's come to my attention that many of you have decided not to come dressed up... Now, this is a costume party and I do not wish to ask any of you fine people to leave so I have prepared costumes for those of you who have neglected or simply forgot!” As she said that her frown inverted wickedly. Her hands came together under her chin and her head titled to one side while her eyes narrowed into small, devious slits that centered on many members of the audience. Slowly, snowflakes began tumbling down from the ceiling. As guests looked up and away from their own state of dress, their clothes and in some cases their forms shifted rapidly.

“The goal and theme of tonight is to understand your opposites, your enemies or even just your hangups... With that in mind I've also prepared activities for tonight!” The snow intensified to a thick fog before anyone in the room could act.

* *

Tyrande had attended the gathering to be polite, but she was not about to dress up. She expected it to not be a problem and was ready to leave very quickly if it was. She had planned to leave already after seeing prominent members of the Horde arriving after her party, but was stopped by Jaina's announcement. She was dumbfounded to feel a shift as a snowflake landed on her forehead, followed by a jarring shift that had her feel a change on herself, as well as in her surroundings. She noticed that she was in a different area of the Palace. The High Priestess tried to look out one of the many windows into the night but was greeted with a disheartening sight on the other side. She was put on guard until she realized it was her own reflection, not some enemy waiting to ambush her.
“Truly?” She uttered in disdain.

The Priestess's eyes were glowing red as though she were dead. Her skin was not white but simply took on a paler shade of the dark purple she had before. For clothing, in place of the gown she wore there was an exaggerated version of the attire the Dark Lady would likely never be caught wearing past a certain point in her life. Tyrande was placed in a small, dark leather bikini that covered half of her breasts only, and posed the risk of letting her nipples slip completely. Covering her sex was simply a tiny thong of the same make as the chestpiece. On her shoulders she wore the stylized black-feathered shoulders of Sylvanas, with her flowing gray cape. Her arms were covered to the elbow with long, leather archers gloves and her legs were covered to the thigh and hip with black, heeled leather armor. She was even given a weapon. A trademark forsaken bow and quiver. Familiar to her in skill, if not style.

She leaned forward to brush strands of teal hair that had been robbed of it's health. Rather than being tied up as she would normally, it fell around her shoulders and into hood of the cape she wore.

“What is this... Costume?” She questioned, hearing a faint echo to her voice. It was just too perfect if she was meant to be a mimicry of the Dark Lady.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth, Priestess.” Came an unimpressed male voice from down the hall. Tyrande recognized it and drew her bow in pure reflex, notching an arrow, then loosed it early by accident. The thing had burnt her drawing fingers a few seconds after she touched it. The shot glided over the shoulder of an incredibly calm, if not annoyed Nathanos.
“Black Arrows. Their reaction to you tells me you are not truly forsaken, though the resemblance is uncanny... 'My Lady.'” He stood looking just as confused as her, a hand stuffed gingerly into his coat pocket, which had remained unchanged.

“Why are you not dressed up?” She questioned, almost spitting as she spoke due to the conversation partner she was given. She was still not certain if the situation was his doing or not.

“I suppose our hosts have different standards for men and for women.” He said simply.

Tyrande grunted and placed Sylvanas's bow back into it's holder beneath her cape. It was not much use to her if she could not pull back its arrows. But then she wondered why it was given to her at all, then.“Do you know what is happening, Nathanos? Are you responsible for this?”

He glanced to his left and his right, then centered his gaze on her. “If I were I would have prepared a far better ambush, no?” He offered reasonably, removing his gloved hand from his coat.
“No, alas I am as in the dark as you are.” As he spoke he admired the tall, athletic body of Tyrande in his Queen's clothes. He fantasized over just what could be gained if that body were to be 'inherited' by the true Sylvanas.

“Is there any hint on you as to what happened?” He asked. Tyrande shook her head. She doubted it, and there were barely any pockets to check, anyway. Nathanos sighed and looked at her knowingly. He had given her the opportunity to see it for herself before he pointed it out.

“What?” She questioned vitriolically. He motioned to the tight strap of her thong. When he did the elf only then noticed the folded paper that was held to her hip by the strap. She took it an opened it curiously. The top of the page was headed by the name:
“Tyrande Windrunner?” She cringed and looked up.
“Is this a masquerade of the banshee or some lunatic's odd fiction?”

“Perhaps the answer is on the page.” Nathanos suggested impatiently. He was as taken-aback by the moniker as she was.

She continued reading for her own sake, hoping there would be some useful info mixed in with the useless fluff. She panned her gaze down to the biography beneath the name.
“The Kaldorei were exiled from Kalimdor for refusing to adhere to the Highborn culture's mystical norms. They set up a new colony on the Northmost bank of the still young eastern continent and called their eventual settlement Silvermoon. The Kaldorei began worshiping the cycle of the moon AND the sun and transformed the northern lands into a garden protected by an array of runes... These people lived in harmony with the blah blah blah... Fake History... Until the Scourge invasion when Tyrande Windrunner Valiantly fell before Silvermoon to the Lich King alongside her famous Sentinels.”

Nathanos could not blush, but he was trying. “Goodness. Who comes up with these things? How embarrassing. So you are 'Tyrande Windrunner' of Silvermoon, then Undercity? High Priestess of the Forsaken?” He could not restrain a chuckle.

“There's more.” She groaned as she looked over the last section at the bottom that read.
“Personality Traits: Disdain for life, love for Nathanos, loyalty to followers, disdain for Elune.” She finally put down the page. Those were just the most egregious in a list of mild traits that had been written down.

“Well? Do you love me?” Nathanos asked sarcastically.

“I am just... Disappointed that there is no more for personality. How two dimensional.”

The two of them turned, hearing the tapping of heels on the tile leading towards them. Both Nathanos and Tyrande forgot they were enemies for a moment and readied themselves for who-knows-what was coming. Tyrande relaxed as two women she recognized rounded the corner. She grew somewhat suspicious however when she noticed how they were dressed. She was not alone in being dressed as a forsaken. The two guards she had taken with her were elite Huntresses. They arrived dressed in forsaken attire. Their faces pale, their hair ragged and unkempt and their eyes truly red.
“You two were fitted with costumes, as well?”

The two girls exchanged a confused look. “My Lady, you did not wish us to dress up so we are not in costumes, just as you asked.” The women had lost some of the... Life to their tone. They spoke robotically.  The other spoke in much the same way.
“We must secure you and Nathanos and escape this place. We believe the alliance has organized an ambush against us and our allies.”

Tyrande gulped. “Our... Allies?” It was her and Nathanos's turn to exchange a worried look.
“Who might those be?”

“The Horde, My Lady... Are you alright?” One asked.

Nathanos stepped forward and asked experimentally. “At attention, ladies.” The two girls nodded and submitted to his authority by straightening out their posture attentively before the man. He added.
“What are you?”

“Dark Sentinels. The Lady's finest soldiers.” They responded.

“Did you happen to read a piece of paper that was strapped to you somewhere?” Nathanos probed.
“Yes.” They responded quizzically.
“But it was merely stating facts, so we were not sure on the point.”

Nathanos looked back to Tyrande quickly. She was worried, quite worried. “How are you feeling?” He asked. The man was not worried, but he was quite intrigued with the situation. More than anything, his analytical mind jumped to the conclusion that the same scenario was playing out in some way with his Sylvanas elsewhere. That thought did worry him.

Tyrande felt her head. She was truly concerned because she understood the implications. She thought that she felt fine when he asked but deep down there pulling and pushing within her psyche. It was not just the 'facts' on the page, there were also details and events and things that she could 'remember' that were not even a part of it. They actively conflicted with things she thought she knew. Those things that she thought she knew were surgically being pulled apart while new details were slid in subtly. She figured that it had actually been happening since even before she read the note, because it had reached a point where there were some things that she was no longer certain about. In regards to those facts she had no clue whether or not the things she had a solid perception of were truly that, or simply thoughts that had already conveniently replaced old, lost memories.

For one, she hated Arthas with a passion. It was a hate that had previously been reserved solely for two individuals. Neither of them were fading from her thoughts like errant memories, it was merely her feelings for them that were transforming. One of them was standing in front of her.

“I feel... Strange, Nathanos.” That last word she moaned. Her lips quivered because it felt both wrong and right. Wrong when going by the thoughts that were in the process of being pushed from her mind, but very right emotionally. Her tone when she said his name was dripping with lust.

* *

Nathanos dragged her into another room. He had not noticed it but he was also being pulled, just in a much different way. His mind was well intact, but his feelings were being changed. The drive he had not felt since he was alive kicked back into gear and suddenly he had all the pent-up frustrations of a man that was without sex for decades. He was feeling every missed day in his throbbing cock and balls. It did not help that Tyrande slid submissively to her knees and began eagerly kissing at his crotch as Nathanos fumbled with his belt in a moment of lapse.

“We haven't done this in-” Tyrande stopped herself.
“Wait... what?” She was confused by contradicting thoughts. There was another man, rather, there were two individuals that occupied that place in her mind. One had been humiliated in defeat many thousands of years ago at the time of her people's exile, the other was still a man and played the role of her husband. Both felt real to her and she head to search her thoughts carefully to find that the druid was the one that was a part of her actual reality. Though, her remaining thoughts told her that he was not a perfect companion. Not like Nathanos.

“I don't know you.” Nathanos uttered sharply, wounding the new 'Windrunner' that was knelt before him. He did not like that wounded look, even though she was his enemy. Meanwhile she did not like the feeling of her lover saying such things to her, but the shock did drive those prying thoughts back briefly enough that she could come to her senses.

“W-what the fel am I doing? My mind feels like a mess.” But as quickly as that clarity came, it fled. She planted another kiss on his bulge through Nathanos's tight pants and stared up in stern frustration.
“Get this thing out, already, Nathanos.” She ordered in a ghostly tone.

He shuddered. Her lust was unfamiliar, as was her love, but that tone echoed in his mind and made him rock hard. It reminded him of Sylvanas and made him think that Tyrande truly was changing. He made the mistake of letting his cock pop free of his pants in another moment of weakness. They were becoming more common. The desperate elf leaned in and took it between her wet lips aggressively. She started sucking it, not to pleasure him but to lubricate every inch. Every second while she did so she made confident eye-contact with him. Sylvanas had never done such a thing to him while they were both forsaken, but Nathanos was suddenly wishing she had. A visage of his Lady was doing so much for him, and it was slowly turning him to a fan of the new 'Dark Lady.'

“Remember when we used to pretend you were my superior? Between harsh drills I'd let you fuck me and talk down to me like I wasn't your Sentinel General?” She uttered, stroking him off while she rubbed his wet tip around her lips. It was a kinky thought that slipped into her mind. Lust and arousal was a hole from which new thoughts easily supplanted old memories. This was despite the bulk of her psyche still fighting back.

“No...” Nathanos grunted. He simply did not. Whatever new reality was inserting itself into her brain, he was not a part of it.

Tyrande's face twisted in despair. “What?” She came to the quick realization that something was off.
“Wait... Who am I?” She gulped and panted.
“My head is spinning...” Even as she was having that crisis, Tyrande still stroked Nathanos idly. She looked up at him.
“We... Need to get to the bottom of what is happening, Nathanos. This place is doing something to my head.”

“Are you... Still there?” he questioned.

“Sort of... I am... Tyrande Whisperwind.” She asserted with quite a bit of pain in her tone. The man breathed a sigh of relief.
“But...” His sigh stopped short. He saw her staring up at him with a very needy expression.
“Even if... I can hold on.” She paused and took a deep breath. The woman even closed her eyes to concentrate.
“I can not ignore my need to be fucked by you, My love.” That part of her mind that did not want him was gone. Even if she could hold on to everything else rather tenuously, she could not hold back in regards to him. Tyrande fell back, spread her legs and peeled down her thong. With two hands she spread her dripping sex for him and waited. She offered him an inviting look to entice him further. It was a look he had never seen before. Not from the one he loved, anyway.

Nathanos took a deep breath, wiped his brow, then slid over top of her. He guided his cock to her cunt and began fucking the simulacrum. It was not that he could not resist and it was not even that he loved her. Deep down, he knew that regardless of the outcome, there was going to be a version of Tyrande that was going to be far more 'friendly' to his cause. That is what he tried to tell himself as his cock began to throb with pleasure for the first time in years. As he fucked her she stared up at him affectionately in a way that Sylvanas had never done. The man felt weaker than he ever had in that moment. All tact faded and he lost his nerve, hilted his member deep inside of her and came. He had no idea there was anything left in his balls and whatever it was that was pushing into Tyrande's womb, he did not really care. All he really cared about was the fact that he was possibly being affected far more than he would like to admit.