Honorless

When the group first came to the Gladium Cantina it was obvious they were looking for someone specific. Their eyes roaming the honorless as if they were on a mission, or a hunt. He felt the moment their eyes locked on him and paused his work polishing his armour for only a second, but it was more than enough for them to know he was aware of them. They brashly made their way over, Blood Legion to the core, before attempting to corral him to a more remote location. An attempt that got them a deep snarl for their efforts before they gave him a hint of what they were on about.

“What, you want to be Gladium until your last patrol?”

The hint of what they were offering, a warband to call his own again, had him lower his hackles slightly and follow them.

“Here’s the deal. You help us, we help you. This warclaw’s been acting out and there’s only one thing that’s gonna calm him down. You do that and we’ve got a spot in the warband for ya. What do you say?”

The Charr grunted, looking at the others with blatant skepticism.

“I may be considered honorless, but I have my dignity.”

He growls out, but they can see it in his eyes that he’s considering it. They knew they had him and laid the final trap for him.

“It’s your choice, Gladium, but I doubt the Tribune would be very impressed that some honorless old chum refused the chance to join his warband.”

His eyes snapping up and narrowing as he looked at the group. All five Charr dressed in well-made Blood Legion armor; no one he recognized, but he couldn’t rightfully be expected to keep track of the comings and goings of every warband.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

He hadn’t really thought it through, as he lay there nude with the heft of a Warclaw on his back and its hot shaft poking at his rear. A heavy paw on his shoulder pressing him into the dirt.

“You’ll let me in the ‘band for this, right?!” The question was far too panicked as it came out of his mouth. It left a bad taste on his tongue as he watched the other Charr smirking and adjusting themselves.

“Oh yeah, we’ll let you in. Just get that brute to settle and we’ll make sure it’s all sorted out within a fortnight.” The biggest one rumbled out, probably the leader of the five of them. Even as one of the others started to look antsy and nervous. Coming up to the other and grunting lowly, “If anyone finds out we’re using the Tribune’s name for this…” The Tribune didn’t know, then? That could only mean they were acting on their own. The only ones stupid enough to use a Tribune’s name unsolicited would be… Grunts!

“Burn me! Get this lummox off me, you lying—!" He didn’t get the chance to finish his threat as the Warclaw finally thrust true, deep into his tender hole.

Special thanks to and story by Carson