The aspiring ranger was up before first light. Today she intended to scout that orc war camp, to see if she could see the worg pens for herself. It would be quite the hike, down past the contested Alther’s Mill and along the steep cliffs to Stonewatch. She had only planned to scout the location today and formulate a plan. In her youthful ignorance, she had no idea just how dangerous an excursion into these lands would be.
There were accomplished scouts that did often go into these contested zones alone, but they were highly experienced and most often elves. One must have the keenest of senses to traverse this dangerous ground. Many orc encampments sprawled forward of the great stone keep that the Blackrock orcs had appropriated and made Gath’llzogg’s stronghold. Orcish sentries were constantly on the lookout.
She made good time and reached Alther’s Mill well before the sun reached midday in the open blue sky. The great lumber mill stood quiet, but she shuddered as she could see the traces of recent violence here. The white of bones and rusted weapons littered the old battle site, buried in the shifting sand. This was a no man’s land.
She kept to the far side of the cliffs, just feet from the deep drop off into the head of Lake Everstill, one wrong step from this height could spell death, with a fall from the cliffs onto the murloc-infested rocks below. Sasha though was sure-footed and made her way by mid-afternoon to within sight of Stonewatch. She could see the well-traveled road running up into the keep. The tall stone tower and the columns of savage orc guards hard worked at drills, positioned beyond.
She hid in some dense bushes and assessed the area with her raven’s eyes missing nothing, her bow in hand knocked lest she be taken by surprise. To her disappointment, there were no worg pens here. They must still be further inland, she thought.
Though it was getting late she decided to press on. She did not intend to return until she had the intelligence she sought. Of course! she stated suddenly and triumphantly in her mind. How foolish of me, there are probably more camps close to Keeshan’s post. Father served there, and that’s most likely where he saw them!”
Galvanized by that thought she carefully backtracked north. The post was probably located some two miles distant, she had never been there, but her Father had told her it was a dismal little military forward camp, consisting of only a few tents and some defensive structures built into the hillside around it. There was also the reason for its name, a large wooden post that jutted skyward defiantly in the middle of the site, on a hillock overlooking the wide valley below. It was called Keeshan’s Post, named after a very celebrated soldier John.J.Keeshan. Head of the Bravo company.
She loved to hear all her Father’s war stories, and this charismatic and brave man had a mention. He had been taken prisoner by the feared Blackrock orcs. Somehow he survived that cruel captivity and escaped. She tried to remember the rest of the tale, but her mind was diverted by the presence of an armed orc patrol somewhere ahead of her.
She froze and hid behind a large rocky outcrop, bow clutched in her hands ready to fire. She could not see them well as they passed by obscured by trees. There were three of them, all armed with huge war axes. She must be close now, and she would have to focus on the task at hand and not be so easily distracted.
The afternoon was growing late, and the sun was sinking behind her, it lent a light to the red earth that took on the specter of a world bathed in blood. Inadvertently she shivered. It felt like an omen.
This initial scouting mission had taken far longer than she had planned. If only she had scouted this destination earlier in the day. She could see the array of small campfires through the treeline before her, and smell the aroma of cooking meat. So orcs actually do cook? I would have suspected with those tusks they just ate their meat raw. Her Father had always said they were complete savages, little more than animals.
Ever so slowly Sasha closed the gap, easing herself closer and closer to the encampment so she could see better. She so loved this ranger stuff, it was indeed exhilarating. It was then she saw it, a pen made of tightly woven tree branches, secured with knotted rope, the very thing she had been seeking.
Housed within seven young worg pups! Soft gray balls, rolling and cavorting in playful abandon giving no indication of the slavering killers they would become. They must have been weaning them from their mother Sasha mused. The young, aspiring hunter was somewhat taken aback, they were for such young creatures unusually large, already the size of hunting hounds.
Sasha had not anticipated their great size, and she fretted at just how she would even manage to carry one away. This was a rather large setback in her plan that she had not foreseen. So as it grew dark she waited, she was here now and there was no real reason she could find not to attempt this tonight. Deciding that once it got dark and the camp quieted she would make her move.
Being so close to her dream Sasha allowed her thoughts to return to her domestic dilemma. The one that had sent her running here in the first place. When she returned home triumphant with that pup at her side, surely she would be considered then for the hunter academy? The training would be long and far away from Stormwind, and after that she could expect a deployment. She hoped by that time poor Graham Trias would have lost interest, and settled down with another woman. She knew his Father Elling Trias would relentlessly push him toward marriage and an heir, and this whole confusing mess could be dispensed with.
She had waited hours, it was cool and she huddled in her oilskin jacket being mindful to be as silent and still as possible. The fires that dotted the encampment died down to coals, and one by one all but a few of the orcs went to their sleeping places.
Now Sasha knew that camp life could be rough and that soldiers often had to make do sleeping in their bedrolls on the bare earth, but these orcs confounded her, many only laying down on a shaggy hide with no coverings at all to guard against the chill. Some didn’t even do that, they just seemed content to lay on the bare earth, sleeping soundly. Yes, they were the savages as everyone described.
Finally, it was time...
She put her bow down with great caution and slowly crept forward. The moon had not risen yet and it gave her good cover as she stayed shrouded in the shadows. The orc warriors in their slumber snored and grunted. Slowly she edged toward the cage and the prize she had so long coveted. She eased her knife from her belt, and slowly began sawing at the ropes that held the puppy pen together. The blade though small was sharp, and the ropes frayed and came away easily.
She scanned about her as she worked but she could hear no one close. Reassured she went back to work as the curious pups began to nuzzle and fuss by her fingers. She could hardly wait to take possession of one.
A great hand fell on her then from out of the darkness, it was to her horror immense. Sasha jumped in fright, reflexively ramming her blade into the giant's arm. The orc roared in pain, at once jerking out her blade like it was no more than a bothersome splinter and sending it skittering away across the rocks with a metallic clatter, and its golden eyes that were on her shone even in the darkness.
She had not heard him, how could such a huge creature move so silently!
She was firmly imprisoned in the monster’s grasp, Sasha squirmed, twisting about to face her fearsome attacker. She was not at all fortified by the vision that greeted her. He was a huge tusked and toothed orc, and unlike many of his kind, he stood erect to his full seven foot height. Sasha who barely made five feet in shoes knew she would be no match for the wall of muscled mightiness that held her so inescapably in one hand.
His skin was of the deepest brown, and completely free of the tribal markings that many of the orcs had tattooed or scarified onto their bodies. His hair was of the darkest shade of blue-black, it was straight, long, and shone with health. His hairline did not recede as was the norm for most orc males, a long mane hung down either side of his face and partially obscured his fierce golden eyes that were studying her avariciously. The rest of his generous hair was bundled into a high ponytail wrapped with leather, even so, it still reached part way down his back. She could not stop looking at his huge gold nose ring, it had to be made of solid gold!
She struggled, but the gesture was futile. He simply picked her up, crushing her bow underfoot as though it were a mere twig, and put her over his broad shoulder to carry her back to camp.
Vistas of panic, of the rocks and grass underfoot as she was unceremoniously hauled over his hulking shoulder. She struggled profusely and tried to right herself to see where she was going. She hit him as hard as she could and wrenched at his hair. Anything to halt his progress, anything to make him drop her. Nothing moved this orc, he did not even flinch at her all-out attack. Terror, frozen moments captured. The last vision she had was the seven pups whimpering and pawing the cage for her attention. She had been so close...
The other orcs had heard the commotion, the camp was coming to life. Sasha Wrynn was truly terrified, she could understand nothing of their guttural grunts and noises that passed as a language. She waited in terror, thinking that at any moment maybe they would simply tear her to pieces and devour her. Her dear Father had alluded to that very thing.
Her captor passed through the camp, taking her into one of the largest tents, and set her down before a very important-looking orc. His skin was almost the color of dark charcoal but his hair was shot with white and pushed far back on his forehead. Perhaps this was the great Gath’llzogg’?
She tumbled unceremoniously onto the hide-covered floor. Looking up she assumed he was a chieftain or at least someone of high rank.
The two orcs spoke their strange rasping language, and although her heart was hammering with terror the naturalist in Sasha was fascinated at the exchange. However, she didn’t have long to contemplate her surroundings as she was again hoisted from the floor and marched from the tent by her captor.
She hung under his arm the way she had carried puppies or kittens about in her childhood, limp and protesting. He took her across the campsite, and as he did so he exchanged what looked to Sasha like jokes or humorous greetings with his fellow warriors. She got the sense that she was the brunt of it.
She was angry with herself, how could she have let this happen! Her Father would be furious, and she had disgraced her family. That was if she even lived to be rescued! Where are all the orcish women she thought? She hadn't seen a single one.
A larger building loomed, it was like the others of orcish construction, and there was a guard stationed outside. He had a fearsome axe hanging from his belt, and she suspected he would not be loath to use it.
The two orcs exchanged a few unintelligible grunts and Sasha was deposited inside to be chained by the ankle to a stout central pillar. The orc left and she sat listening to the sounds of the camp quite alone.
*****
Somehow overtaken by weariness Sasha had fallen to sleep, and she woke with a start to a pair of bluish two-toed feet before her. Sasha looked up and beheld a female troll standing with her hands on her hips assessing her closely. My She was taller than Sasha had ever imagined, just as tall as the male orcs! Until this moment Sasha had never seen a troll that wasn't an illustration in a book. She was very impressive to gaze on.
“Time to get up there’s work to be doin.”
She spoke in common! Sasha was in shock and stared up at her dumbly.
“You be dust fine, I Taz’jani will look after ya, now you be a commin, we have work ta do.” With that, she unlocked Sasha’s ankle chain and bid her to follow.
Sasha took one look at the tall female troll and another at her freed ankle. It was time to scarper.
As if reading her thoughts Taz’jani added. “Ju don be thinkin about runnin away. They will catch ju and punish ju hard. Then I can’t help ju sistah.”
Sasha listened to the tall blue troll’s warning. It sounded ominous, if she was going to escape she guessed she would have to lull her captors into a sense of false security first. Let them think she was compliant, and hopefully, in the coming days, she could depart even if it was empty-handed.
She walked out into the bright sunlight, the camp was a hive of activity just as it had been the day previous. Orc warriors were sharpening their axes, and wrestling in mock battles that to Sasha’s eyes looked terribly heated and fierce, it was hard to believe they were only sparring. Humans seemed quiet and weak by comparison.
It was then she saw the worg, a full-grown one with its rider. Sasha was spellbound, Taz’jani was telling her to follow, but she halted in the center of the bustling camp as the magnificent beast strode by with its equally imposing rider.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Ju so easily distracted.” Taz’jani plucked at her arm, Sasha could not help but stare at the strong hand that only held two digits and a thumb. “Com.” The blue troll urged.
Reluctantly Sasha followed to what was a food preparation area. There were cooking fires and many large black metal pots. Sasha guessed that Taz’jani either liked very odd bedfellows or she was a slave to the clan, kind of a camp follower.
The young woman was at least happy that someone here spoke common. She had feared that none here spoke any language that she could understand. This would make her captivity somewhat more bearable, and perhaps she could even gather some intelligence?
“Do many here speak common?” She asked.
“Nah, mostly just me, anyhow what is ju name?”
“It’s Sasha.”
“Nice to meet you Sha Sha.”
Sasha Wrynn found it hard to suppress her smile at her cute pronunciation of her given name. “Are there other slaves here?”
“Nat many, there be me of course, then Ruzuluku he be a troll like me, but Gurubashi. Utaki he ancient, he be troll too, Zandalari, and Gartosh the orc from the Frostwolves, da enemy clan. He not speak much wid us, but he friendly. Dat be all.”
“Oh, I see.” Sasha was trying to process all of this information. In her exuberance she just had to ask. “Is it true trolls can regenerate their body parts?
Taz’jani laughed that crazy laugh of hers and answered. “Tiz true.” She hovered over the tip of one of her two fingers with a sharp meat cleaver. “Me show you?”
“Oh, no, no, Taz’jani that won’t be necessary!” Sasha replied white-faced. “I believe you, truly!”
Throughout the afternoon she worked alongside Taz’jani laboring over the blackened cook pots, and learned much about her. The elegant blue troll with the wild shock of white hair didn’t look at all like the thickset Gurubashi, or even the savage Zandalari of this continent. That was because her parents had been captured Reventusk forest trolls. She spoke of her upbringing in Reventusk village, a small seaside fishing community in the faraway Hinterlands, that to Sasha’s mind sounded idyllic, for she had never sighted the sea.
Though a child of slaves Taz’jani had been freed after bravely rescuing the chieftain's son from a rogue tiger. Trolls honored such bravery, however in a raid on her tribe by rival trolls she was again enslaved, and sold in Booty Bay at the slave auctions frequently held on the pier.
Eventually, her change of hands over the years led her here to cook for this war band. That didn’t seem so bad to Sasha’s inquisitive mind, perhaps slavery would not be so terrible after all, and in a few days, she could just run away unnoticed back to Lakeshire.
She ignorantly thought this until Taz’jani also explained that the orc men on the warpath got lonely, and they only spared female captives mostly to pleasure them, and that would be expected from her also. Taz’jani said this so matter-of-factly it seemed to the Troll this was no big deal.
Sasha stopped stirring the pot and looked at Taz’jani with her mouth stupidly hanging open. “But the size difference…” was all she could get out.
Taz’jani just cackled, her high-pitched lilting laugh. “Ju get used to it.”
Unlikely! Sasha thought with a new dread.
*****
That evening she was taken to the slave quarters, and again chained by her ankle. Thankfully no lonely orc had wished to ask for her company, nor Taz’jani’s either.
“Dis be Utaki.” Taz’jani said.
Utaki was also a blue troll, with thinning white hair, and one broken tusk, and he was extremely old. Sasha knew trolls could live up to three hundred years, and Utaki might have been close to that. He didn’t speak common very well but Taz’jani interpreted. It seemed that Utaki had once been a powerful witch doctor or medicine man. He had been deposed by a rival who sought to take the power in the tribe for himself. The politics of troll life was to Sasha, and like a true anthropologist, she was spellbound often forgetting her predicament.
She then met Gartosh, he was very much a prisoner, his sturdy body weighted down with chains. He was apparently being held for ransom by his tribe. He was solid and strong and covered in many scars of battles fought, a sworn enemy of the Blackrock clan. He too could not speak common, and it was difficult to know his story, as even Taz’jani struggled with his language.
Lastly, she took her over to the caged Ruzuluku. “Call me Ruz,” he said in halting common, his voice dark and rich.
He was a solid green Gurabashi troll, just like Sasha had seen in books and stories, with bright flaming red hair that was plaited down his back. He was blind in one eye and his face was terribly scarred.
“Why is he in that cage?” Sasha inquired.
“Ruz be a druid of the old ways. He be shiftin.”
As she said this Ruz materialized into the form of a huge dire bear with tusks. He filled the cage, he could barely move such was his size. His fur of all things was an unnatural shade of green.
“Oh I see,” Sasha replied breathless at the sight of the fierce creature.
“He be harmless to us.” Taz’jani smiled, showing off her pointed tusks as she did so.
“So how come he just doesn't escape? Sasha questioned baffled, the things she was witnessing filled her head with yet further questions. She had seen the occasional druid, and she knew they were powerful.
“He be cursed by a powerful witch doctor.” Taz’jani went on to explain. “If he escape he would be cursed, he must wait till he is freed.”
“Oh.” Sasha said somewhat bewildered. These trolls sure had some strange ways.
*****
So Sasha became involved with camp life, she had decided if she could she would make her abduction bear fruit, if not the worg companion of her hopes, then she would at least gain some useful intelligence she could take back to Lakeshire on her escape.
She listened and learned much, even without her ability to process the guttural orcish language. Taz’jani was only too happy to interpret for her while they worked. It was true then the orc forces were almost at full strength and primed for an attack, the citizens of Lakeshire didn’t have many weeks to prepare. Sasha knew she would need to warn them soon. Many new Blackrock recruits marched down from the Burning Steppes with every passing day.
The young woman grew increasingly edgy as the days passed. She just could not understand why King Wrynn had not sent his forces. She was angered that the citizens of the immediate countryside were in peril, and they had received so little assistance militarily, it was the same situation in Westfall.
“What da matter?” Taz’jani questioned her one evening, over a pot of Gnolls head stew. It appeared these orcs would eat almost anything as long as it was meat, even other unfortunate humanoids.
“Nothing.” Sasha lied.
“I be understandin ju girl, ju don’t wanna be runnin off.” Taz’jani reminded.
Sasha just shrugged, she really had to leave and soon, the window of readiness was fast closing for the innocent people of Lakeshire. She was pondering all this when suddenly a pair of heavily muscled dark brown legs appeared before her. She stopped stirring the cook pot and looked up timorously. There before her was the golden-eyed orc.
“I tink he like you.” Taz’jani teased.
Sasha didn’t find the joke at all funny.
His immense arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his muscular legs were as thick as trees. Today he wore armbands of cured brown leather laced about his wrists, a wide leather weapons belt, and a simple loin cloth to cover his modesty. Did orcs even have modesty? Sasha mused. Probably not.
He was as he had been last time, bare-chested, multiple sets of golden rings graced his ears, and his nose, and he had about his neck a rather impressive necklace made of claws and pointed teeth, on looking closer she wondered if they were not the tusks of vanquished enemies? Perhaps he had worn it last she saw him, but she could not recall such was her fear.
Sasha was unsure but it looked as though he was grinning at her, as his lips parted she could see his fierce teeth, he had two very prominent tusks that jutted up and slightly forward from his lower jaw, and inside of those sat two smaller ones. Tusks that could easily puncture soft human flesh, she shivered.
These orcs sure had a lot of teeth. How do they kiss? It was an odd thought but one that intrigued her, perhaps they didn’t, couldn't?
Sasha looked away, the scalding pot next to her was bubbling over. She made to stir it and before she knew what was happening she had been hauled over the orcs shoulder and carted away.
She heard Taz’jani call after her. “See, he like ju.”
She was unceremoniously carried to a tent of tribal orcish design and deposited there on the floor. There were many shaggy skins of animals underfoot that muffled the sound of her partial fall. This was not a large tent, but this orc must have been somewhat important to have a dwelling of his own. Most of the common orc footmen just slept rough outdoors with no form of shelter at all.
Sasha righted herself, straightened her clothing, and her tangled mess of hair, lamenting she did not have a hairbrush, determined she would not let this orc get the better of her.
She looked about her as much as she dared and sighted his immense war axe leaning up against the central pylon. It shined wickedly in the half-light. It was of orcish design, but it had been forged by a master craftsman. It was etched in runic designs or possibly the orcish language, what it denoted was unintelligible to her. Many of the lesser orcs just had primitive stone axes or stone-tipped spears.
By that dread axe leaned an enormous long bow, the strength required to use it to the diminutive Sasha unfathomable. Its companion quiver also sat there in a dull brown, very serviceable quiver, it had seen much wear.
There was also a short sword, the weapon was diminutive, and it would have to this large orc felt almost like a dagger in his enormous hands. The young woman knew it at once for a militia issue weapon, just like the ones all the Stormwind guardsmen carried. She surmised it was a trophy from a kill. She shivered.
There was not much else to see, but a fur pallet placed directly on the floor, thick shaggy hides serving as a mattress, and a brown leather sack its top loosely tied with rawhide strips. Sasha always inquisitive, wondered what might be in it, she had not credited orcs as caring for possessions or sentimentality, but now she began to wonder if she was wrong?
She dared to look at him again, he was just watching her, gold eyes bright. He really did seem to be amused, she was sure he was smiling at her stupidly. Yes, all orcs sure are dumb, my Father was right! I can’t wait to escape this witless animal.
The huge orc then sat cross-legged on the floor just gazing at her intently, Sasha found his attention unnerving. “Pretty.” He said suddenly out of nowhere.
Sasha felt sudden alarm, no she didn’t really hear that, she must have mistaken something else he had said to sound like that word surely? However, his next utterance completely dispelled that myth.
“What is you name?” His common was not perfect but it was really very good, she had not expected an orc to be able to speak with her. They were savages incapable of learning! She had learned that even in school!
“I’m... I’m... Sasha.” She blurted out, now feeling very scared. He was going to interrogate her of that she was sure, or maybe something worse.
“Me, Gorthan.”
“Nice to meet you Gorthan.” Sasha didn’t know what else to say.
The huge orc shifted his weight as he sat, putting his huge fist under his black stubbled chin and regarded her for long moments. She could tell he was thinking deeply, a process that was not something she thought orcs would be blessed with.
“Humans have two names.” He said finally.
At first, Sasha was confused, because most humans actually had at least three names, and some even more than that if they were born to nobility. She just looked at him lost waiting for him to clarify.
“You other name…”
Then she realized that he was searching for her family name, she almost blurted it out but at the last second realized what it might falsely imply. The name Wrynn could never be uttered here. Orcs were dumb, but surely they all knew the name of the King they were fighting?
“Oh... it’s Smith.” Smith was such a common and innocuous name, that no one would care about a Smith.
He nodded his big shaggy head. His midnight mane shimmered as he did so. He seemed happy at this and he visibly relaxed. Orcs were so big and heavy that they didn’t always move like humans, and Sasha noted that when he made to rise, he balled his fists and pushed himself to stand much like a powerful gorilla would have.
He walked about her, as she sat, dark eyes downcast, he was making her very nervous, she longed to dart from the tent and flee, but she suspected that she would not get very far. He looked big and clumsy but he moved with a frightening speed. She must pick her moment wisely or she may never escape to raise the alarm.
“How do you know my language?” She finally dared ask.
“Learned from an old slave in my village long ago.”
Sasha had to admit she was surprised, she didn’t think orcs would bother to learn anything academic.
As she gazed at him through her now tangled curtain of dark, straight hair, looking at him without trying to be obvious about it, she realized he was quite different from many of the orcs here. He was young, probably in his early twenties. He bore very few scars that she could see so he must be a newcomer to war, or he was good at it. As far as she knew orcs lived similar life spans to humans, so he was very much near her own age. Though he was solid he probably hadn't even finished filling out yet, and his dark brown skin was a completely different shade to the other Blackrock clan orcs outside.
She wished he would stop his pacing, but he kept walking about her slowly appraising her from every angle. The act was making her very self-conscious.
“You are my slave.” He finally said to her, “mine by rights of salvage.”
She guessed he had meant that he had found her so she was now his. It was a typically, basic orc thought, one she could credit him with.
He closed the gap between them then, and she felt his impossibly heavy hand alight on her slight shoulder. He did not say a word but tugged at her shirt. Sasha’s hand shot up to pull against the force he was exerting on the garment as he tried to lower it from her shoulder.
This wasn't so funny anymore, and she was scared. Taz’jani had told her the truth after all! She could not do this she thought, she would rather die!
“Please don’t,” she said softly, dark eyes pleading. Still attempting to hold the front of her shirt to retain her modesty. However rather than him tear it from her she relented, and he slid the garment off of her shoulder to expose one of her pearly breasts.
Sasha sat still, she was terrified. She had never had a sexual encounter before, and if she thought the ardor of Graham Trias was bad, he was nothing compared to this!
The monster gently began to stroke the soft white skin of her narrow shoulder, even against other human women she was built like a bird. Everyone back home often joked about her diminutive size. She didn’t want to admit it but she was the smallest adult she knew.
His attention soon turned to her milky white breast that was exposed so invitingly. He cupped her warm globe in his huge hand and rolled her pink upstanding nipple between his forefinger and thumb. Sasha squirmed, not expecting the pleasurable sensation that ran all the way through her body to places she would never rightly mention.
Gorthan stopped what he was doing and gazed at her, catching her dark-eyed stare with his own feral, blazing, golden one. “Not much different to our women after all, but very, very fragile, too easily broken.”
He stopped then, and Sasha bashfully pulled up her shirt, carefully buttoning the buttons all the way up to her neck. The daylight had begun to fade, and the inside of the tent darkened. The large orc appraised her some more quietly for a while as she fidgeted under his glaring scrutiny, waiting for further unwelcome advances. However, they never came.
Why would an orc find her pretty? She puzzled. Surely he was attracted to his own kind? She hadn't sighted a single orc female in this camp as yet, but she had seen many artistic renditions of such fierce and to her eyes beautiful creatures.
Finally, the great orc patted at his furs and gestured that she come and position herself next to him. Sasha shuddered, sure of what was to come, but she could not see any way out of obeying his command.
She was by now very much rueing her decision to make this impossible journey in the first place. If she ever did get home how could she face her family, she would be shamed. People would pity her to her face, and call her terrible things behind her back. She had in her blind quest ruined her life forever!
The big orc lay down and pulled her into his large, warm embrace.