Your mother, Ej’Ma

“Muda,” you greet her casually, looking over the form of the troll who birthed you, her muscular back bare and exposed for you to appreciate. Your eyes trail down to her slim waist and those hips that suddenly flare into that shapely rear of hers, barely covered by the simple woven skirt she wears. Her tits are only covered insofar as she sports a hundred beaded necklaces that hang over her chest like a curtain. All told, you know this woman was made for breeding. Well, all women of the Horde were.

Any female who is of age is free to be ‘bred’ by any male who is of age. Whether the act of breeding produced offspring or not was irrelevant. The act itself is sacred and cannot be refused. It is the Way of the Horde and always has been. Those Alliance races who call this way of life sick and depraved are just fools. Probably all have small cocks.

Your cock is not small. It isn’t even average by troll standards. You are a proud Darkspear and as you ogle the hunched over woman by the fire your dark spear begins to rise. You are now a male of age.

“Son,” she grunts simply. “Fo’ breakfast ya want da grill fish or da coconut?” she asks in her motherly way. “Training starts today. Need to keep ya spirits high, mon.”