Sasha Wrynn could hardly believe that nothing had ‘happened’ that previous evening, she was either very undesirable or very fortunate. She was not sure which. Her confidence though was bolstered, it appeared she had a fierce protector who did not molest her, even if he was not the worg of her dreams.
In the next few days, Sasha began to plan her escape. The camp was now brimming with marauders, and she sensed the attack was imminent. With Taz’jani later confirming that fact. She spent her time watching the troop movements, tallying numbers of soldiers, ballistas, and strategic weapons, and making a mental note of anything the militia of Lakeshire would find useful. She watched the guards that patrolled the camp, and like a good hunter she knew what their habits were. Who was vigilant, and who slept at their post. With all this information Sasha had decided that tomorrow would be the day she made her escape.
*****
Early the next morning Sasha peered out of the tent to see what the disturbance was that had so rudely awoken her. She was met with a terrible vision. The head of a Stormwind guard still wearing his helmet, being raised on a pike in the center of the encampment. The orcs were crowding about the unfortunate man who was now little more than a bloody trophy, growling with unbridled battle lust. Slapping their weapons on their broad thighs, and screaming their bloodcurdling howls to the heavens.
She wondered at his fate, was he an emissary? Or had he simply been caught out? She prayed he had died quickly. She had to escape today, but the sight of the unfortunate man brought her new fear. This was no game. She had so far been fortunate, but how long could she remain so? A rush of nausea accompanied by fear gripped her.
She was about to go back into the tent when she caught sight of Gorthan coming towards her. His stride and expression looked purposeful, gold-eyed stare locked onto her. His long black mane caught by the wind.
She had to look right up as he stood tall above her, he was a good two feet higher than she was, and she had discovered in recent days that orcs did have distinct expressions. They were hardly the empty and dim-witted creatures that many in Stormwind claimed them to be, including her Uncle and Father. His look though did not fill her with a sense of comfort.
“Come…” Was all he said rather sternly pulling her into the privacy of the tent.
She wondered what troubled him, and somehow felt she might be the center of it. She once again felt fear. She really wished she knew where she stood with these savage, changeable beings.
Once inside he turned to her and revealed to her a piece of crumpled paper he had balled in his gigantic fist.
Sasha tugged the crumpled sheet of paper to flatness, and to her horror, her own sketched likeness stared back at her in stark black and white.
‘MISSING SASHA WRYNN’
‘Reward for her safe return.’
“You?” He said pointing a great finger at her chest.
“Where did you get this!” Sasha replied way too fast. So fast in fact she was not even sure if he had understood what she had said, but none of that mattered.
“The King is Wrynn, you Wrynn.” He accused.
Sasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes willing herself to be calm. She could not let this get out of hand, she had to make him understand!
“Okay, yes I am a Wrynn, but I’m not Royal. King Wrynn is not my kin, my blood, he is NOT my Father. We just share...”
“Girls not important to King. King not speak of you, that is all.”
“No, no, no, it’s not like that. I am not blood to him! Please understand me!
The orc frowned, yes she could see his various expressions now, it was strange but she had never credited his kind with emotions before. He looked at her disappointed as he repossessed the notice.
“I am just a warrior, I must tell the chief.” With that announcement he grabbed Sasha and bound her hand and foot, laying her gently on his furs.
“No Gorthan don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I really, really, have no ties with the King. You must believe me!”
Gorthan looked at her with resignation, or was that orcish sadness?
*****
She had been bundled over an unknown orc's shoulder and carted in that position all the way to Stonewatch. Even though it was far, she guessed she was so light that she was little impediment to the huge, charcoal-skinned male that carried her aloft. She had gone from the precipice of an escape to being in terrible trouble, all because of one small piece of paper, and she had not caught sight of Gorthan anywhere.
There were ten orcs in this escort, all unknown to her. Sasha assumed they were bringing her to their warlord along with any intelligence they had gleaned from the unfortunate soldier. She guessed if she hadn't already she was about to meet Gath’llzogg.
The stone fortress crowned the tops of the red cliffs. It had been a militia base once, but it had been overrun. The Blackrock subsequently made it their own, and it seemed impossible for the humans who lived in the valley below to dislodge them. It was a very good defensive position.
The escort climbed the steep stone steps until they reached a great stone chamber on the upper floor. It was windowless, designed to be a secure position, and the ironbound torches that thrust out from the walls were the only light in the dim, austere chamber. There was a large, crude wood table spread with maps, and a tight knot of orcs was around it pointing at positions.
Sasha was deposited on the floor, and all but two of the escorts departed, leaving her to wait. She noticed Gorthan then, and on seeing him she felt a little less afraid. Perhaps he would explain this to them after all, and she would be allowed to leave?
He was among his fellows she assumed talking strategy. He looked across at her but briefly and resumed his guttural orcish conversation with the group of very fearsome savages who crowded close. They were adorned in hardened leather and steel armor, skulls, spikes, and teeth.
Finally, one of the orcs looked at her. Sasha’s eyes darted immediately to the floor. He too was a big orc, broad and strong, his flesh the shade of fire pit ash, he had a heavy-shouldered stoop like many of his kind, and he looked burdened by his huge iron pauldrons and plate cuirass. The armor was rent and dented, being both plain and serviceable, it was obvious he had seen many battles. This she assumed had to be Gath’llzogg.
He was a mature orc. He had receding long hair the shade of midnight, eyes of mahogany, bloodshot with red. His beard was long and plaited and it hung to his navel. He clutched a notched sword of the Stormwind military in his chain mail gloved fist. A poignant reminder to Sasha of the gravity of her situation.
The armored orc spoke to Gorthan, he was waving the tip of his sword animatedly, all too closely to Sasha’s face. The young woman sensed that her luck was not about to change. They spoke for a long time. Gorthan would intermittently look across and catch Sasha's eye, but the looks he gave her did little to reassure her.
Just as suddenly as they had been interested in her they walked away, back to the table and the maps and plans. So they do read? She would never have believed it to be true!
Sasha Wrynn sat on the cold flagstones for a long time forgotten. She had gone inward dreaming of other things, brighter days and better times. She was pulled from her reverie by Gorthan’s huge hands pulling her up from her place gently. He may have looked fierce but he handled her like she was precious china, this gave her heart.
“Come.”
She followed as he walked her downstairs, his hand never leaving her upper arm. It was very apparent he didn’t trust her not to run.
“You are hostage, we send message to Stormwind, we have Princess. The King will come.”
But I'm not a Princess!” Sasha dared to interject angrily, frustrated. “Are you dense!”
Gorthan just gazed at her, a quizzical look on his face, he could be a fearsome sight, the stuff of nightmares. But Sasha was beginning to understand the subtle differences. At this moment he was amused not angry, of that she was sure.
“You mine, but you valuable hostage. Gath’llzogg wanted to lock you up, dungeon down there.”
He pointed off to a very dark, disused passageway that was full of hanging spiderwebs, it really didn’t look like a place that she wanted to be at all. She began to shake her head.
“No,” he said “you be good and you stay with Gorthan. Be bad, be locked up!”
Was everything this simplistic to them? It seemed so. Sasha knowing what was good for her nodded her head. It would by far be more agreeable to stay with Gorthan, and she still may have a chance to escape.
*****
She spent the cool Redridge nights warm by him in his furs, at times his great hands would wander over her in a gentle caress, but he did no more than that. His golden eyes appraised her longingly, it was something she could feel. His warmth, his desire. Much like Graham Trias had been, but in a more honest, primal way.
Sasha didn’t quite know how she felt about this. She knew from her Father’s tales that captives quite often fell for their jailers, her own feelings were mixed as well. She must not let these newfound feelings cloud her true purpose. Yet she found kindness in this orc, and a primal, wild sense of pride, but he was the enemy. Her feelings were hard to reconcile.
She had talked about Gorthan at length to Taz’jani over the cook pots, the blue troll had no real advice for her. Taz was used to being passed about by the orcs, sure, she had her favorites, but she was for the most part happy to be anyone's.
“A female troll when enraged and in heat can mate eighty times in a single night,” she said lustfully.
Sasha’s mouth hung open, my that was some serious promiscuity! Too much information as well!
“Maybe he understan ju be delicate, maybe that why he hesitate.” She offered, laughing her characteristic cackle that Sasha had come to adore. She liked Taz’jani, nothing ever seemed to darken her bright demeanor.
“Do you ever think of escape Taz?” Sasha said quietly, for Gorthan was always hovering somewhere nearby. He had been tasked with guarding the very important ‘political’ prisoner. She just wished she could make him understand that she was not the Wrynn they all thought she was. They were really going to be disappointed when the army never came for her, or the ransom they hoped they might broker. She didn’t exactly know what they had even asked for her return.
“Some time,” Taz’jani said dreamily in reply,”but... where would I go. My family all gone, and my tribe.”
Sasha nodded, that indeed did sound lonely.
“But ju wanna escape,” Taz’jani all but whispered over the hiss of the pots. “When the time come we trolls will help ya.”
Sasha just smiled, Taz had a kind heart.
Later that day Sasha sat alone in the tent trying to untangle her hair, it had been days since she had bathed, and she wished she had a hairbrush. She was running her fingers through her chocolate, waist-length locks and they were snagging on her fingers.
The tent flap opened and Gorthan appeared, he rested his war axe by his other weapons and set his bulk down beside her on the hides that covered the red, sandy soil.
“I have something for you,” he said. Producing a coarse-toothed, bone comb from the hide bag that Sasha had often pondered. He pressed the item into her hands.
The comb was large and heavy, worn smooth by many hands and years of use. It had a tribal motif carved into the bridge of the comb, and as she peered closer she could see it was a beautiful pattern, intertwined running worgs.
“Oh, so lovely. Thank you.”
She at once began to slowly trace the snarls out of her hair, but it was horribly tangled. Her hair was so fine she always had to keep it braided on her sojourns into the wilds, or she would pay dearly later. She sighed, rather defeated at the knotted mess it had become.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The heavy-set warrior had positioned himself behind her. She felt his fingers touch hers and he took the comb and began to comb her lengthy tresses and tame the snarls with much patience and tenderness. Sasha just sat and let him work, his attentions were very relaxing.
“This comb was my Mothers.”
His statement sounded sad, but as she was not facing him she really could not tell. Orcs lived violent lives, with so much inter-tribal warfare, and wars with other races, many of them didn’t live long or well, and even though orcs aged at the same rate as their human counterparts, most didn’t live to old age.
“What was she like?” Sasha decided to ask.
“Strong, she was a hunter, beast master.”
“She was?” Sasha replied in envy and awe. “What kind of companion did she have?”
“It was a wind serpent, his name was Vulug, a great scaled beast that flew, and spat poison and breathed lightning.”
At first, the young woman thought he was toying with her, she had never even heard of, or seen such a creature. However, the tone of his voice said otherwise.
She let him comb and braid her hair, she didn’t have a mirror but just feeling his work with her hand told her it was expertly done. He did after all have a significant head of hair of his own, she supposed he had much practice.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
*****
The days passed and escape, or the chance for it did not come. Gorthan shadowed Sasha's every move, he took his job seriously, and she figured that to lose such an ‘important’ captive the young warrior would suffer much disgrace or even a terrible punishment.
She hated that she must leave Gorthan to such a fate. He had been kind to her. Not at all the savage animal that her Father and his buddies had described to her so often. They had said the same of the trolls too, but Sasha was beginning to love Taz’jani in the way she may have loved a mother. She had of late really begun to question all she had learned growing up.
Her guard had the previous day caught her holding his immense bow as he strode into the tent. Sasha completely caught off guard and embarrassed dropped the huge weapon with a loud clatter.
“Oh I’m sorry,” she said, fumbling to place the great bow back where she had taken it from, red-faced.
The big orc squatted down before her, she noted he had taken to doing this of late, another concession he had made that she may see him better.
“You like the bow?” He asked.
“It is lovely but way too big for me.”
“Can you use one?”
“Yes, I can.” Sasha had guessed he had failed to notice her puny weapon the day he had ambushed her?
“Humm.” He said thoughtfully.
“Are you a hunter?” Sasha wondered out loud, not realizing she had actually spoken the thought.
Gorthan shook his head, his gold earrings jingled. “I can use a bow, but no I am a warrior, but you girl, what are you? You are young, a human, and alone, why did you come here, are you a rogue sent to spy, why they send a Princess?”
Sasha sighed in frustration, wanting to tell him for the one-hundredth time she was not a princess, but he would like the others not listen.
“I don’t have a profession,” she said at last.
“Then why you come to war all alone?” His golden eyes bored into her with great intensity.
“Well,” she said, “as you know I was trying to get a worg pup.”
He cocked his head sideways. “You risk your life for worg pup, why?”
Sasha pulled herself up proudly, “I want to be a hunter.”
She had expected him to laugh or belittle her, but instead, he didn’t answer. He was thinking, his great brow knotted in consternation. “Come.” He said suddenly rising in that gorilla-like way of his to his feet.
He led her out to the periphery of the encampment, she at once recognized the area, it had been the place where she had been apprehended. A sliver of hope coursed through her then that maybe she could run from him when she saw her chance.
He took her past the pen with the newly weaned pups, they seemed less needy now, more intent on playing with their siblings than seeking attention from a random passerby. Her longing was acute as she gazed at them, and she wondered which one she may have taken with her if her mission had been a success.
“Here,” he said as he directed her to a pen that stood separate from the others. In it was a huge shaggy grayish brown worg. The animal recognized Gorthan immediately. Sasha craved to run, but she felt something so profound she could not bring herself to make that bid for freedom.
“This is Gashnaka, my battle worg.”
“Oh... so beautiful.” She could barely speak. Sasha was so overcome. All her life she dreamt of this. The impossibly sized creature looked at her, it had intelligent eyes the color of a clear summer sky.
“You don’t have to be hunter to have a worg.” Gorthan told her.
Sasha was speechless as she edged her way toward the enclosure caught in Gashnaka’s thrall. The great hound was rubbing up against the palisade fence begging to be petted. Gorthan ruffled the beast’s fur affectionately. He cooed something in his indecipherable language to the worg, the imposing animal dropped its massive head and let him scratch behind its ears. Its huge furry tail beat the wood of its enclosure like a metronome.
“Can I?” Sasha asked.
Gorthan nodded and Sasha stroked the beast, its fur was thick and soft, not at all how she imagined it to be.
“You ride this worg into battle?”
The dark-skinned orc warrior nodded in affirmation. “Many battles we have fought side by side.”
Will you ride her in this one?” Sasha was referring to the conflict she knew would come very soon between her people and his.
“No, I cannot, she will have puppies any day. Most warriors prefer a male worg, but Gashnaka my Mother chose for me, she could sense her great spirit.”
Sasha could now recognize the female worg’s belly was round and full, she looked as though she had gorged a great meal. It did not look as though the arrival of the puppies would be very far off.
They spent some time at the worg compound, Sasha questioned, and Gorthan patiently answered her every curiosity. The young woman completely forgot about her plan to run away. By the time it re-entered her mind, Gorthan had her hand in his and they were walking back to the camp.
She looked down at her tiny white digits buried in his, she could hardly believe she was strolling through an orc camp, hand in hand with an orc warrior like they were lovers. Her face reddened at this thought but thankfully no one saw.
The evening meal was being prepared, Taz’jani spent most of her hours engaged in this endless work.
“I had better go help her,” Sasha excused herself, letting go of her protector's hand.
It appeared many cattle had been taken from the freshly invaded farmsteads, and they would be the main course for tonight. It was frightening just how much food was required to support this large of an army. She was sure the orcish forces in very little time could devour every living beast in the countryside. That thought did not bode well for her own people this winter.
Mostly orcs appeared to exist on just a diet of meat. They ate it raw or cooked depending on personal preference. It was fortunate that in Sasha’s quest and desire to become that hunter, she had honed her habits to the idea of subsisting on what was in the immediate environment. Training her body to consume mostly meat, she had found after a time that other foods left her feeling empty, and sugary fare she could no longer abide.
Her aunt had found this odd and tried to change her ways, scowling at her as she would always leave the turnips and greens on her plate. She had called her difficult, but Sasha knew her Father understood, he was of a similar mind.
So tonight she was gnawing heartily on a beef bone. Gorthan fortunately didn’t have the taste for bloodied flesh and still warm organs as did many an orc. He ate quietly watching his human charge.
Sasha would look up at intervals from her eating, at times it felt very awkward with this big orc watching her every move. So to break the tension she felt, she asked. “Do worgs live very long?”
Gorthan stopped chewing for a moment, took a drink from the huge clay vessel by his side, and answered. “Gashnaka is young, she is only just old enough to bear a rider in battle. Most worg companions live about half an orcs life. So a warrior could expect to have two in his lifetime, but often that bond with his first is the most precious.”
Sasha found all this worg lore most interesting, she had not recalled in all her study ever reading this recorded anywhere. She was enthralled.
“Why are the no orc women here?” She simply had to ask.
Gorthan grinned. “Most of our women are very good fighters, all of us train in combat from young, it is expected. It is rare an orc, unless he is magically inclined does not learn the way of the axe. There are some women among us, but not in this camp, mostly they stay in defense of Blackrock, to look after and teach our young.”
Sasha nodded this seemed a very sensible way of doing things. The orcish women sounded both fierce and strong.
“Are you are sure you are not a spy, you ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m very sure,” Sasha said, “and I'm not a Princess either.”
Gorthan again looked at her and scowled.
They often talked long into the night. The aspiring huntress learned all she could of orcish customs and peculiarities. Every night it was the same, she would curl into his warm chest and they would drift off to sleep. To begin with, she could not sleep as she was used to sleeping alone, but now she found security in the giant who guarded her back.
This particular night though sleep would not come, and even in the pitch black she sensed Gorthan was not sleeping also.
“You know,” she said wriggling back into his arms, “I really am not as fragile and delicate as you think.” The orc did not reply, but she knew he was listening, she could almost feel his ears twitch. “One day you will understand that…”
*****
There was great discord in the encampment the next morning. Sasha had been with Taz’jani and old Utaki, under the cooking tents awning when the lone rider approached. As the orcs spotted him they stopped whatever they were doing and made their way to press about him in a tight huddle. She could see Gorthan was looking at him as well, but he had made no move to vacate his place.
“Who is that?” Sasha said breathlessly.
The worg he was riding was tall, possibly more than seven feet at its shoulder, and its fur was shining midnight in hue. Human skulls and scalps hung from its saddle, and the warrior on its back was impressively built. His hair was a shade of deep burgundy, voluminous, and plaited in many thick braids that hung down his lower back. He had tusks and bones in his ears and nose, and his muscular chest was covered in tribal scarification. On his back, he bore a large longbow, and a quiver well stocked with raven-quilled arrows.
“In your language his name is Grimskull,” Gorthan explained, “he is an apex hunter of the Blackrock clan. He mainly works alone, and he brings us the intelligence he gathers. I assume he has much to tell. His worg is named Fellstrike, he is the sire of Gashnaka’s pups, it promises to be a fine litter.”
Sasha could tell that Gorthan wished to go and listen to Grimskull’s news, but he stayed his desire, as he didn’t wish to be too far from Sasha and his duty to guard her at Gath’llzogg’s request.
It was later that afternoon that Sasha learned that King Wrynn had finally assembled a huge army in Lakeshire. The Orcs were surprised by this large show of force, it was apparent from Grimskull’s report that the combined Stormwind and Lakeshire militias forces now greatly outnumbered the Blackrock, and there was talk that perhaps the surrounding camps would all be pulled back to the stronghold at Stonewatch. So far no order though had been given.
The pass from the Burning Steppes had been sealed as well. It was the only way in and out unless one could fly by gryphon or wyvern. There would be no more reinforcements or supplies from Blackrock Mountain. Sasha wondered idly if her own Father was part of that force.
“Looks like your papa is angry.” Gorthan teased.
Sasha screwed up her face and poked out her tongue. “The King is not my papa,” she scolded.
“It will be a bloody war.” Gorthan said now with seriousness, as he gazed across at the great war axe that leaned on the tent upright.
Sasha wondered what he was thinking, he almost looked sorrowful. She didn’t know what possessed her at that moment but she rose and sat next to him. She put her arm as far about his massive waist as she could reach, and squeezed him hard.
“Is it wrong among your people to care romantically for others who are not of your species?” Sasha blurted out.
Gorthan swiveled his bull neck to gaze at her, his ears twitched, and his upper lip pulled back a little baring his great fangs. His stark black mane hung in his bright golden eyes.
“No,” he said his voice deep and husky, “If I wished a troll mate I could take one.”
“I’m not talking about a troll Gorthan, I’m talking about a human?” Sasha corrected.
“Human too small, too fragile.” He shook his head, the teeth strung about his great neck rattled.
Sasha sighed, well aware she had feelings, ones she could no longer deny. Why hadn't she run away? It was because in her heart she didn’t want to. Gorthan had seen her for who she was and what she wanted to be, in a way none of her human counterparts ever had. Her own Father had understood, but even he had pushed her from her dreams. She didn’t want to go back to the mundane life that her family had planned out for her.
“No Gorthan we humans are not,” she said softly as she tenderly kissed him on the cheek.
The direct conflict was not far off, the future was uncertain. She ran her dainty white hands down either side of his immense jaw delighting in his thick stubble. Tracing his huge trapezoid muscles, lingering there beneath his warm mane of midnight hair.
He just looked at her quizzically, his head cocked to one side.
“You are a little minx,’ he said. Pulling her to him as if she were made of china. For a huge creature, he could be amazingly tender. Another fact that she had never been taught orcs could be.
He was not that stinky, horrible, dimwitted monster of her Father’s tales. She sat in his lap facing him, her legs positioned on either side of his iron torso. She could feel his warmth, his life, his male vitality. She closed her eyes and kissed him on the lips.
It was the strangest sensation, he was all teeth and tongue, yet the kiss was not unpleasant. Graham’s wet attempts at kisses had nothing on this masterful and confident orc. He leaned over her, possessing, covering her in the curtain of his thick, dark hair. Their tongues dueled for some moments, Gorthan overcoming her and invading her mouth with his impossibly large one, she shuddered beneath his conquest breathless.
Her nipples had gone hard and stiff beneath the coarse fabric of her shirt, and his fingers already sought them. He tweaked them with just enough force to make her tremble with want. She felt the wetness beginning down below, and she squirmed in his lap. Their lips parted and he was now nibbling her neck beneath her hair, he was biting and sucking on her skin enough to cause the blood to rise to the surface, marring the light smooth flesh with a reddish-purple bloom. Her center was already wet and burning in need.
Just as she could take no more of his teasing he rolled her onto the furs. She lay there disheveled and panting, eyes glistening with desire, cheeks flushed. He placed her beneath him, he was above on all fours. Very slowly he peeled her shirt from her. It was not like the last time he had tried. Sasha writhed beneath him, helping him divest her of her clothing which was fast becoming an annoying impediment to her desire. She wriggled out of her pants and lay there on top of the furs her arms about his back. He was so large that she could not get her fingers to even meet across the span of it.
He kissed her again, and she melted into him. She could feel his enormous hardness swelling beneath his loincloth. OH my, he was huge! With that realization, she froze. What she wanted was impossible!
“Do not fear little Sasha,” he said tenderly, as though reading her mind, his low voice no more than a deep growl. “I will not hurt you. You so small, me do something else.”
Before she could wonder what that would be, he got on his knees above her and removed his belt and covering. Sasha's eyes looked on his immense uncut member with incredulousness. She figured orcs were big, but he exceeded even her wildest expectations.
“Put your hands here.” He instructed.
He made Sasha place her hands on either side of her small breasts, cupping them, and giving him a valley for him to place his throbbing member. Once she had done this he began to rub against the valley that she had created between her pretty mounds. It did not take long to yield a result.
Sasha lying quietly below could feel the tension in her Orc lover. His huge body began to shake and she could hear the change in his rapid breathing. He growled as his hands tightened on the furs tearing the fuzz from the hides. He slumped over her as she felt his warm wetness explode between her breasts and below her chin.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said breathlessly. Burrowing his face at once between her legs.
Sasha gasped as she felt his huge tongue rake her most sensitive of places. She writhed and moaned under his welcome assault, she had no idea that this could feel so good. She was afraid to have his toothy hardware so close to her most delicate of places, but that fear was soon forgotten as he worked her expertly to orgasmic bliss.
Sasha cried out and arched her back, gripping him to her tightly, fingers entwined in his hair. She could almost feel and see a rainbow of color as her body crested in waves of pleasure at his urging.
Consumed they lay together in the dark, bodies entwined. It wasn't really the first time of Sasha's imaginings, it was better.
“Do you think we will ever be able to…” She was too embarrassed to further elaborate.
“Yes,” he said. “Now let us get some sleep.”