Orcs vs Elves - Demilitarized - Club of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Patreon)

“Strip... Club? What?” To High Priestess of the Kaldorei, Tyrande Whisperwind, the place sounded like a tool for rending flesh. An unbelievably tasteless device that would probably be wielded by a Forsaken, or some other devious, cruel creature. The reality was not far better than that. Her attendant had gathered materials as a result of an independent investigation into the unique establishment she began laying out everything she and her Sentinels found.

“It is a place where women go to dance-”

“Well that does not sound so bad.”

“-for men.” She finished, presenting a depiction drawn in rough but precise detail like a courtroom sketch. What was shown were Kaldorei on a raised podium surrounded by Orcs. They were throwing coins and other materials up on stage while the girls simply basked in the attention and showed off their superior Kaldorei agility.

Tyrande took the image and squinted at it. “What is this? This makes no sense to me. Dancing for Orcs? Are these women slaves? If so, we will have to reassess the status of the demilitarized zones in Ashenvale.” Ever since the harmful war against her people, the Alliance and Horde saw fit to set up zones that would not be host to any fighting or military demonstrations from either side. Those areas were then flooded with some interested parties who were curious about encountering one-another without violence ensuing.

“We were able to speak to most of them, My Lady, and it seems as though they are willfully dancing in this place called a 'Strip Club' and that it is for enjoyment and coin. The common consensus seems to be that they were uncertain at first, but found the gold they made to be irresistible, and they management apparently takes good care of them.”

“The Management are-”

“Orcs.”

“I should investigate personally and make my presence known. This seems to be due to a lack of morality on both our parts. For the Orcs and our own, though I hate to say it. Are there any laws to deny this type of business?”

“None, My Lady. The laws in the zones are actually quite ill-defined thanks to neither side agreeing to a join charter. Unfortunately for us, the Orcs are happy to have the lands there be lawless, while the Alliance is unhappy to compromise.”

“Sounds far too likely.” Tyrande sighed.

“You are the moral leader of our civilization, so your presence may be a welcome wake-up to those girls who have given themselves over to this strange system of employment. However...” She hesitated, because it could have been perceived as an insult.

“However? Speak, child.” Tyrande asked firmly.

“Very well. Any Kaldorei that enters seems to become enamored.”

“This sounds unnatural. What of you? You entered, did you not?”

“For a while.” The attendant sighed wistfully.
“Truthfully, if I were not given such in important mission I may have been lured. It looked kind of fun.”

“Fun... So there may be some type of enchantment.”

“There may be. The only think agreed upon by both parties is to use magic offensively or subversively would be akin to bringing a weapon. If such a thing were to be found, it would justify swift response on our side.”

“If it truly is an enchantment that you were almost taken in by, it means that any protection I bring may become a liability. I will have to call for our strongest allies for such a trivial thing.”

“There is something else, My Lady.”

“Yes?”

“This is not an isolated incident. Culture within the zones are favoring Horde. Specifically Orcs.”

“What do you mean? What shape does this take?”

“The shape it takes is a k-kind of intoxicating new method. I am a bit hesitant to-”

“Please tell me.” Tyrande sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“My Lady, they treat us like weak idiots there! It is completely out of line. Because we are punished if we act appropriately to correct their behavior, we are essentially handicapped. We can only endure the demeaning behavior or be pushed out. If we have no presence in these zones then-”

“No, you are correct. If they solely occupy these places they may as well become Horde territory and we will be returning to square one. On the contrary, if we are able to do the same on our end...”

“My Lady this is ill advised.”

“Explain.” Tyrande crossed her arms under her moderate bust and stood with a hip cocked.

“It is quite intoxicating, in reality. It is easy to lose yourself in the bombardment.” She notices Tyrande's scrutinizing stare and added.
“B-but I escaped so you should be fine, My Lady.” The attendant guessed. It was truly just a guess. The type of charm the Orcs exercised did not feel like it had anything to do with power, or a lack thereof on either side.

“So it is settled. I will attend as a visitor with my most Elite, and I will also call others to assist. Shandris with her iron resolve will help keep everyone grounded while Maiev will use her expertise in tracking and hunting to detect any enchantments. Conveniently, once we have detected what trick they are using we will have our force ready to bare on a moments notice, as well.”

“A very good idea, My Lady.” The attendant could not shake the idea that it may not actually be a good idea to bring all of the most powerful and influential figures to that place. However, she could not suggest or even imply that Tyrande would be unprepared.

“Good.” She lifted her delicate chin proudly.
“Appraise me on the biggest dangers to be aware of.”

“The greatest threat to us within the zone are the average Orcs.”

“Did a mishear you, or is 'average' a code for something else?”

“Average means average. Due to the rules of the zone, average Orcs are empowered. They have free reign to do what they like so long as it does not cross the line of being Violent or Magical. So-”

Tyrande sighed, shaking her head. “I feel as though you may be overreacting. There is no threat that an average, unpowered and unarmed Orc can level against us.” She claimed. From her perspective it was the truth.

“Yes My Lady.” The attendant could say nothing in response, as she thought.

-

The Zone was a developed area within Ashenvale, much to Tyrande's chagrin. Things were seemingly done by vote and despite a significant Kaldorei population, votes tended to favor the Horde. It was against common logic so she naturally assumed fowl play. An Elite Huntress stood on either side of her as she entered. They had to get rid of their weapons and armor and were instead adorned in casual civilian clothing, as was everyone else. It was because presumably there would be no need for armor and weapons if everyone upheld the same standard. The same was not true for magic, which could be used and kept more discreetly.

“High Priestess, the other groups have entered the zone from the other points to begin their own assessments.”

“Very good. Keep me updated. Apparently we are headed into a dangerous environment, but I do not see anything of note.” It was just a growing village with many Orcs wandering the roads. There were a few larger structures, with one in the center that she was appraised would be the Strip Club.

“Threats could arise from any angle at this point.” The other Huntress warned.
“For that reason we must remain...” She paused. An expected threat in their mind was a trained warrior that could not be measured, or an assassin that appears only after it is too late. The sight they became witness to was neither of those things. Three slovenly Orcs, on for each of them, sauntered over with a drunken gait and wide, friendly smiles. Their arms open, their bodies undefended and weak. There slowness was a power in and of itself. They could see them, but the fact that they were so clearly not a threat made them a threat. It was because they could respond to an assassin and they could perceive threat from a warrior that could then allow them to fight. With the three men who so openly approached them with mild intent it was too perplexing and so non-threatening that it was impossible for the powerful women to react.

“Huh... Looks like these ladies don't know the 'culture' round here.”

“The Culture?” Tyrande scoffed.

“Be mindful who you speak to and how, Orc.” One of the Huntresses warned, baring her teeth at the man who spoke.
“You-” The Orc in front of her snapped his fingers in front of her face distractingly.
“Are... Uhm. What?” She blinked. The Orc smirked as, like a Goblin Explosive, she was effectively defused by the confusing confidence and abrasiveness he showed.

“Honey-” He began.

The Huntress made a face. “Honey?”

“Sweetheart, the Boss is talking. Be a good girl and wait your turn patiently, alright?” He spoke down to her. A simple Orc. The Huntress was dumbfounded, shaking where she stood in anger and confusion. Both were impotent in the situation however and only confusion was actionable.
“Hey!” He snapped his fingers again as she reluctantly stepped back. She was shocked because she had assumed he was done.
“Baby, we're not done.” She froze, staring at him.

“What?”

“Not what, baby girl. Daddy.”

“Daddy?” She blinked, repeating without thinking. She was perplexed. The Orc was speaking so fast. His words were like jabs that threw her off balance. The Huntress realized the war was still alive in this place, but instead of weapons it was fought with words and she was under equipped and under powered.  Each strange sentence he spoke wove into the sequence like a stun, or a blow would were they sparring. If it were a Game, Huntress Cordessa's hit points would be low, almost gone.

“Atta girl! See I know elves aren't that smart but at least you girls follow instructions well enough.” He complimented sweetly. Cordessa's jaw dropped. She began to sweat and turn red, covering her face in embarrassment.

“M-my Lady...” She groaned.

Tyrande stared in wide eyed amazement, her long ears twitching. She witnessed an Elite Huntress be taken down by mere words. Luckily, the consequence of a battle of words was not so dire as losing a true fight in the field. She narrowed her eyes at the head Orc. On her other side, Huntress Dalia had lost by proxy. It seemed the area of effect of the Orcs verbal assault was great. It did not effect Tyrande, however. She stared him down, lifting her chin.
“
“Those big, ridiculous ears work? Saw em twitching.”

A disarm. “Wait, what?” She stared at him, dumbfounded.
“You just- You just said to me-”

“Uh oh, fellahs. Usually the Knifey's got good hearing but this one's ears work as well as her brain.” He laughed, the other two joined in.

Cordessa whispered in Tyrande's ear. “M-maybe we should go, My Lady. Regroup?”

“No! You are the ones who are ridiculous.” The High priestess insisted upon blank Orc stares. She seethed internally, but kept a calm expression.
“Knifey? Ears working as well as my brain? You have insulted-”

“You're the High Priestess?” The Head Orc asked.

A stun. “Yes? You knew, and yet-”

He chuckled. “Hey. She thinks it's an insult what I said. I guess the High Priestess knows her peoples intelligence pretty well to be annoyed!” He grinned.

A full on blow. Tyrande Cringed. “N-no... No. That is not true. I was simply responding because you insulted her intelligence earlier and- and-” She was picking up steam, but she was flustered. It granted the Orc a parry.

“And- And- And-” He mocked.

She covered her mouth, blushing. Dalia gulped. “My Lady it feels as though we are being bullied. We really should just go.”

Tyrande gritted her teeth. “Yes, perhaps-”

“Ah, I guess Tyrande Whisperwind can't hand some random Orcs. We were peons a while ago, haha.” It was a taunt, a method of drawing attention from a dangerous enemy by a tank. In this instance, drawing the aggro also meant holding threat to keep the target from running off.

“We do not NEED to withdraw because we can not lose to simple peons.” She whispered to them loudly.
“You are Elite of the Elite. Guardians of the Temple of the Moon!”

Once they were drawn back in so easily the 'health' on each of them was low. Tyrande's words had actually dealt some level of friendly fire to herself and the others. Since they were so low, an execute was the best method to finish them off, however their health was still just a tad too high for it to be used.
“What do you consider losing?” The Head asked smugly. It was a perplexing question. A method of crowd control that occupied each of their minds with the answer playing upon their already weak states. They would have an idea. In each of their minds the answer was written so clearly on their faces. The mechanic of the encounter had been figured out and the small Orc party simply needed to successfully last the execution phase. A free 'kill' because each of them at once thought in answer to his question.

`Being pushed back or forced to back down at all by these insignificant creatures.`

The execute, spoken by the Head of the small party of three Orcs. “The fact that you're thinking it but not saying it means you already lost.”

“That-” Tyrande gulped, gritting her teeth. The Orcs stood triumphant. Peons over the elite. An equivalent to a level 1 standing over a skull level that could not be fathomed in terms of power, three of them. The encounter was over and all that was left for them was the loot. Tyrande felt an odd wetness between her legs, as did Dalia and Cordessa. A feeling of mild, confused arousal tinged with loss. Tyrande felt weak. She felt less than. She could see the opposite in his eyes. She felt in him pride and accomplishment and as for how he saw her, her face reflected in those dark eyes told her exactly what she had become. She had no items to drop for the encounter, nor experience to give. No, she had become loot, alongside her Elite.
“Do not spread this around.” Tyrande begged. If it got out what had happened, that she lost in a battle of words and wits... No, not a battle, a raid where she was by all accounts in the position of 'Boss.' She had been conquered in that sense.

The Huntresses were shocked. “M-my lady?”

“If you act nice and work hard to fit in here, We'll keep it on the down low.” The Head promised.

“Truly?” Tyrande was shocked.

“My Lady, this may be a good opportunity.” Dalia interjected. The High priestess nodded. They were her thoughts, just spoken out loud.

“How do we fit in?”

“Oh!” The Head brightened.
“We'll guide you gals to act proper.”

“Also...” Tyrande blushed deeply, furrowing her brow as she looked down.
“How did you do this?”

“It's the new way. Battles aren't fought with power anymore. Orcs got a new perspective. Wars fought with words. A new class that doesn't get levels or damage or anything. The 'Bimbofier.' You were our first successful 'raid.'

Tyrande stared in confusion. “Class? What are you talking about? Bimbofier?”

“It just proved that three Bimbofier's can clear any encounter from level one.”

“Do you understand what they are saying?” Tyrande whispered.

“No My Lady.” Dalia shook her head.  

“Can you speak in ways that make sense?” Tyrande asked.

“No, not really. You wouldn't get it, anyway. But, our Class is like a Hunter, but instead of taming a pet right away, we gotta do it over time through reaching esoteric milestones...” The Head sighed.
“First one, Call me Daddy.”

“That actually gonna work on the High Priestess? She's a faction leader.” One of the party members questioned. Tyrande stared at them, utterly lost.

The Head smiled. “Call me Daddy is basically the first step. It can only be used on a defeated character, though. Still, it's useful Let's try it out. High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, call me Daddy.”

She squinted at him strangely. “What are you talking ab-”

“Maybe it doesn't work?” One of the other Orcs muttered.

“Maybe-”

The talking faded and Tyrande for the first time in her life was shown a status window, blue in color with white text. It appeared in front of her.
[Bimbofication 13%]
[Call me Daddy initialized. -

Effect: Irrational affection.

Effect: Trigger Phrases (Baby Girl, Silly, Dopey, Bimbo) Trigger irrational behavior affection once per day.

Effect: Trigger Actions (Ass Slap, Finger Snap, Beast Slap or Grope,  Passionate Kiss) Trigger reduction in Intelligence, Spell Power, Aggressiveness, and Combat Based Strange and Agility once per day for each.)

Effect: High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind's Bimbofication will progress 1% every hour that Character is not in contact with 'Daddy' and progress each time a trigger is used. Bimbofication will progress 1% each time a trigger is used and decreases 5% for each instance of successful defiance.

- ]

“Oh shit it worked!” The Head said excitedly.

“Wonder what her Triggers are?” The others wondered out loud.

“I wont tell you. Obviously. I will also refuse anything you ask of me, and my percentage in this strange game will reduce to zero.”

He chuckled. “Don't say that, Baby Girl.”

Tyrande felt an unusual sense of shame. Her ears drooped. The Huntresses stared at her demeanor in shock.
“My Lady?”

She could not control herself. Tyrande frowned and opened her mouth against her better judgment. “I am R-really sorry, Daddy. I did not mean to be like that.” She realized that some type of magic was being used on her after that and gritted her teeth once her mind was somewhat free. She resisted and broke free.
“Swine! You will pay for-”

He snapped his fingers in front of her face with one hand. The spell fizzled and her strength faded. She blinked.
“Uh..?”