[Last week, as you may recall, our feisty heroine ventured into the depths of the Echo Ridge Mine near Northshire, in search of the legendary Kobold King. Captured and knocked unconscious, she awakens to find herself unclothed and bound securely to a bed, surrounded by naked kobolds each engaging in an act of simultaneous self-abuse.]

"Love Slaves of the Kobold King" Part II: Jynnxe Takes Candle

Jynnxe Jones, Staff Writer

Well! You can imagine my surprise. There I was, naked, tied spread-eagled to a (surprisingly comfortable) bed in the depths of the Echo Ridge Mine, surrounded by naked kobolds, all staring at me while simultaneously pulling their puds. Not just simultaneously, but in perfect unison. Up-down-up-down … it was weirdly hypnotic. Okay, weird, anyway.

When you're in shit, keep your mouth shut. That's what my Grampa used to say, and he knew all about being in shit. So I kept my mouth shut and watched the show. But after an hour, it was becoming increasingly difficult. For one thing, my kobold admirers were still going at it. I'm serious. A full hour of single-minded lanyard-yanking had yet to result in any cannons going off. And they showed no sign of stopping. That's talent; these guys could make a bundle in some of the clubs around Booty Bay. Not only did I want to applaud their devotion to duty, I also needed to pee. Really, really needed to pee. And despite all the kobolds with their candles, it was cold in that draughty old cave, and my girls were reaching for the ceiling. A little bit of that was me enjoying my new friends. But mostly it was the cold.

Finally, something happened. I heard the sound of bare feet scuffing on the stone and suddenly there I was, eye to eye, as it were, with the biggest kobold I'd ever seen. It had to be the fabled Kobold King.

Let me clarify this. He was no taller nor more burly (nor better smelling, nor, as it turned out, any more articulate) than any other kobold. But after an hour watching the Kobold Burlesque Show and All-Boy Revue, I had become something of an expert on certain aspects of kobold anatomy, and I assure you, he was head and shoulders over the rest of them. A couple heads-and-shoulders, in fact, and I was close enough to tell. Plus, it was surprisingly clean, which, lucky me, as it turned out.

"Hi," I said, in my most engaging tones. "I'm Jynnxe Jones, Lifestyles Reporter for the Stormwind Daily Mail." I like to get that out there quickly. Being a reporter opens lots of doors, and sometimes you discover you're talking to a fan, which is nice. But he wasn't impressed.

"You take candle," he answered, pointing at his – ahem – candle.

This really took the cake. I've had guys before come on to me like they owned the room and I was just another piece of furniture. But they at least had the grace to say "Hello" first. Or "Nice rack." Or some kind of introductory phrase. This was completely beyond the pale and so I told him exactly what he could do with his candle.

He looked at me, then at the Kobold Tabernacle Choir, still wanking solemnly away, and he said: "You no take candle? You take candles."

I looked to where he was looking, counted heads, and gulped.

And, you guessed it, I took candle.

What would you have done? Trying to pull a twenty-car train under those circumstances was going to be the opposite of fun. At least this way all I had to do was open wide and say "Ahh." While I was waiting for him to finish, I put together a shopping list of everything my editor was going to owe after this was done. It was a long list. Which was good, because Mr. The-Kobold-King took his sweet time.

Mid-way through, I was distracted by the feeling of someone climbing onto the bed. Circumstances being what they were, I couldn't very well turn my head to see who it was, and so imagine my surprise when I felt hands on my knees and then began to feel some very pleasant sensations. I actually had to stop working on my shopping list for a considerable period of time, and just about when Mr. "You-Take-Candle" started squirting out kobold juice, I was lighting off some fireworks of my own.

You can imagine my surprise when I discovered who my new friend was. I had assumed it was a very talented kobold. It turned out to be a human woman. It was hard to tell at first, under all the dirt and the caked on wax from the candle stuck to her head. Plus the hair. If I had to guess, I'd say someone hadn't shaved her legs since before Cataclysm. But she was human, as far as I could tell under the dirt.

I never did discover her name. "You pretty candle," she said to me after the King left. She was pointing at my private parts which do not in any way resemble a candle in the traditional sense. I let her know this, too. "That ain't no candle, lady," I told her. But all she did was look at me sadly and repeat the same line.

She soon left, and a couple hours later someone came along and took me to the throne room. It had a throne, anyway, plus a huge pile of kobolds sitting around in bleachers against the wall, and my friends from before, still stroking busily away, all of them staring at the throne where the king was getting his knob relentlessly polished by my new friend. The mystery of its unaccountable cleanliness was now explained. There was no way any speck of dirt, grime, grease, wax or bodily secretion was going to withstand that kind of lip-work. I was in awe, let me tell you. I'm no amateur myself, but that girl could teach classes in it.

After a few minutes of this, the King said something like "Pretty candle" and strong hands grasped my lithe, young body and, despite my struggles and cries of despair, plopped me down on a wide, padded bench. The Boys in the Band all gathered round and the next thing I know, there's me, and the King, and the king's (not so little) little king all having our own private party while every Kobold down in Koboldville stood around and watched.

Good ol' Jynnxie, flat on her back again.

And again. And AGAIN. It turns out the King not only had the candle for the job, he knew how to use it. Me, I just kept climbing that mountain and singing "Hallelujah" over and over again. Probably a dozen times before he finally threw his head back and let out a mighty roar and the next thing I know, him and the entire Kobold Fire Brigade are cleaning out their hoses. And three guesses where the fire was?

Afterwards, they took me away and plopped me back into bed, to get some sleep and await my next audience. I gathered this was going to be the routine from here on in.

But it was not to be.

I never did find out who my new friend was, only that she'd been there a while and that my arrival meant her position as Candle-Cleaner-in-Chief to His Nibs was in jeopardy, a fact about which she was not happy. She made it clear to me that I and my "pretty candle" both needed to leave. Now.

I was fine with that. The Kobold King had carved himself a pretty memorable notch on my bedpost, but there was no way I wanted to make a career out of it. Since I was once more tied to the bed and with armed guards at the door, I didn't really see how escape was possible. But she managed it somehow, and a few hours later I found myself standing outside the entrance to the mine, and waving farewell.

I was stark naked, mind you, since none of my things made it out with me. But at least I was free. The nice man who answered the door at the Northshire Abbey was a bit surprised to see me, but he was able to find some clothes that didn't fit me too badly (even if they were hideously out of fashion; I would have almost rather walked into Stormwind naked except for how much trouble it caused the last time) and soon I was home. Without my interview, or the pretty shoes that Mr. Shaw gave me, but home, safe in my own bed, and with an interesting story to tell.

I had tried to get my new friend to come with me. But she wouldn't. Was she afraid of the Kobold King? Or was it his talented candle that drew her back down into the depths? "I have friends," I told her, "Big, tough ones. Guys who could walk in there and mop up that entire crew without breaking a sweat. You don't have to be here." But she just shook her head and pushed me out, then turned to make her lonely back down into the mine.

(With circulation in Stormwind City, Elwynn Forest, Duskshire, Northshire Abbey, Lakeshire, Ironforge, and wherever in Azeroth the good folk of Stormwind can be found, the Daily Mail is Stormwind's source for news you can trust. The Stormwind Daily Mail is a proud member of the Azeroth Media Group.)