Opposed Factions Pt. 02

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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

This story series was written as a collaboration with my wonderful friend Sleth.

Thank you for all the fun we had! Couldn’t have done this without you.

——–

It was a warm summer day in Stormwind. The white stone from which the towers and walls were built shone in the sunlight and the running water of the canals hummed calmly. The heat was almost unbearable, and his fur did him no favors. But he didn’t mind, he was sitting under an apple tree, chewing on the fresh fruit and observing all the young girls passing by in light dresses that embraced their curvy figures. It was a calm moment that he wanted to savor.

They looked so good. The sitting worgen shifted because of how tight his pants became just from looking at them. They wouldn’t look at him and, when they did, it was with either disdain or, at best, curiosity. Every human girl was well-aware of the dangers of getting too close to a cursed worgen after all, so they didn’t, but they still looked so good…

Reilly wished he could have just shifted back to his human form. That’s what all of the worgen living in Stormwind did, stay in their human forms, but Reilly… had always had trouble with that. Maybe it was because he had been a worgen from a very young age or maybe there was just something wrong with him, but whenever he stayed in human form for too long it just… didn’t work. He felt uncomfortable, weak, and ended up shifting back without even meaning to soon enough.

Maybe if he could stay as a human they’d spare him a few extra glances. Reilly still doubted it’d even change anything, though. If he did change back though, then he wouldn’t be able to properly appreciate it anyway. The humans didn’t know what they were missing. When Reilly sniffed in their direction, with the wind against his face bringing him their scent, he could smell so much. Their feminine scents, the hints of

delicacy that was unique to those girls. It sparked up his imagination, made his pants even tighter. He couldn’t be with them, but he could smell them, imagine it. Before he took the next bite of his apple, he gave it a lick. It tasted sweet, as sweet as he imagined that…

A jolt of pain shot through his body and his eyes shot wide open. Being stirred awake, the first thing he felt was a dull pain spreading in his stomach. As the shock and panic subsided, they were replaced by a sickening feeling of moist ground and damp air.

“Get up, wretch, you slept long enough.”

The rough voice rang in his sensitive ears, a cruel reminder of his sad situation. Reilly looked up, the world was dark blue, the sun still hidden.

As he tried to get up from his fetal sleeping position, his body tensed up, painfully in need of stretching. Something he couldn’t enjoy. His hands were still tied behind his back and his jaws were kept shut by the leather muzzle. The only positive thing was that he no longer registered the smell of the orc’s cum that had long since dried into a crust in his fur.

It has been a few days, Reilly wasn’t even sure how many since he was captured in Redridge. They were traveling day and night ever since. Last night they reached the southern end of Duskwood and camped in a dry riverbed under a wooden bridge. Today he would be led through Stranglethorn jungle, ever closer to his doom.

After the physical shock from the harsh awakening disappeared, he slowly and clumsily got into a sitting position and since his hands were

tied, he rubbed his eyes against his knees to get rid of the morning crust. After his vision was better Reilly looked around the small encampment that the orc set up yesterday. They slept under the bridge, separated by the campfire from one another. Unlike his captor, who had the luxury of sleeping in a fur bedroll, Reilly had to sleep on the dirt, with moist and rotting leaves as his bed, snuggled close to the fire for at least a bit of comfort.

The orc was fully dressed, sitting on a log and chewing on a piece of smoked meat.

“I want to reach Grom’gol today. So, I won’t be making any stops. You better be prepared for the long march because I don’t care if your legs will be torn and bloody by the time we get there.”

After that solemn statement, or perhaps threat would be a better word, something Reilly was well used to by now, he tried to concentrate on the situation at hand. He lied to save his life when he told the orc about his made-up noble pedigree, but in the end, he only bought himself a few more miserable days. And now they were past the Alliance territory, and any hope of rescue was but a pipe dream. Maybe if he was lucky, some poisonous bug would kill him in the jungle, long before they reached the Horde settlement that the orc was talking about.

Like during the few previous days, he was fed and given plenty to drink. Thankfully, despite Reilly’s botched attempt at escaping, the orc never followed up with çanakkale escort his threat of dumping the worgen’s head into boiling soup. Maybe because he had already punished him enough. Or maybe because Reilly tried to be on his best behavior ever since. He was too scared to act otherwise.

While the orc was breaking the camp, the first rays of sun shone through the foliage, casting glimmers like a golden rain all

around them. Soon enough Reilly felt the tug on his leash, humiliatingly urging him to resume their journey. Clumsily he got up and used the opportunity to stretch his legs as best as he could. Thankfully there was no need to get dressed since the orc gave up on forcing Reilly to bathe ever since that unfortunate night in Duskwood. Ever since then, the worgen was left to sleep in the same clothes he wore for several days now. While it was better than if he was left naked, it certainly wasn’t comfortable either. Not that there was anything comfortable about his current situation.

The orc led them up the steep slope of the riverbed, back onto the dirt road, and just a short walk from there, it led them to a crossroad, the path straight ahead of them led up to the hills, and the path to their left led to a gap between two cliffs. Beyond them, Reilly could see lush greenery, and despite never having been there in his life, he knew that what he was looking at was the jungle of Stranglethorn.

The “gate” was surrounded by sandstone ruins covered in moss, and from the foliage nearby poked a large macabre head, staring down at them. The stone face was so weathered and overgrown that it could easily be mistaken for a simple rock. A tug on his leash forced him to move, so with a gulp he reluctantly followed the orc into the jungle.

While Duskwood was a horrible place, filled with terrors creeping in the shadows and unknown horrors that one could barely imagine, the Stranglethorn jungle was terrifying in a much more visceral way. One didn’t need a great deal of imagination to know what giant lizards and ferocious cats would do to you. Not to mention the troll tribes that were known to live in these ancient forests.

After passing between the mountains they emerged on a winding stone road. Or what was left of it anyway. Seeing that they would not be cutting their way through the jungle like some adventurers in a storybook made him feel a bit more relaxed. Though when he first saw the sandstone ruins that

surrounded the road, which he felt was safe to assume were troll ruins, he thought that maybe cutting through the jungle might have been a better option.

Half-broken obelisks poking from the ground, walls that stood as the last remains of buildings long since gone, sometimes Reilly even noticed pottery scattered among the bushes and trees. All of it was covered in elaborate decorations. Some were simple decorative motifs, while others depicted scenes and creatures.

He knew that there were trolls inhabiting the Stranglethorn jungle, but the only trolls he had ever heard any details about were the Darkspear trolls of the Horde. He had no idea what he could expect from these tribes if they were to encounter them, but the ruins didn’t paint a pleasant picture.

Scenes of ritual sacrifice, depictions of beastly gods, faces, naked bodies, animals and more.

For quite a while they just followed the road in silence. Not that Reilly could talk with the muzzle, but even the orc was less than chatty ever since their first day, only talking when it was absolutely necessary, and always just to command the worgen.

The sounds of the jungle were suddenly joined by gentle humming. Reilly perked his ears to hear better, it sounded like running water! And indeed, soon enough they stood at the foot of a long rope bridge that swung over a wide river. At the stone base of the bridge stood a terrifying statue of a feline, made from one chunk of a strange green stone. The orc paid the statue no mind but instead tugged at the leather leash to bring the worgen closer to him.

“You will go first. I don’t trust this thing.” Breaking the silence, the orc motioned him onto the first plank of the bridge, and it was no wonder that he didn’t feel safe crossing it. Both the planks and the rope that held them together were reeking with mold, and the sound they made under Reilly’s paws made him nauseous. Yet not as nauseous as when he looked around and below. The river flowed between two steep cliffs, and while the height didn’t appear THAT lethal, who knew what kind of things swam in that river. He certainly didn’t want another ‘bath’ and safe to say the orc didn’t want a good leeching either.

So, he gathered up his courage, looked up at the sky, and step by step he walked across the swinging bridge. At the other end, he was welcomed by a large arch adorned by another grotesque relief. This time it was a face with a toothy grin, smiling down at him. Not even that sight could ruin the sweet feeling of having firm ground çeşme escort beneath his feet.

A shove to his back reminded him of his “companion”. He quickly moved aside to allow the orc to take the charge once more. However, the happiness he felt standing once again on solid earth was short-lived. Just a short walk from the last bridge, a new one stood before them, much the same as the previous one, except this one didn’t have a river beneath its ropes and planks. Nothing but rocks and leafy bushes underneath.

Reilly heard the orc grunt with annoyance before he was once again shoved onto the ramshackle structure. With a sign, he once again crossed the bridge, step by step. This time with more confidence than the last time, and soon enough he was on the other side.

To his right side, the jungle opened and below the cliff he stood on there was a clearing. His eyes opened wide as he looked upon a camp that sat among the fallen trees by the river. For a moment his hopes rose up. Maybe he could find

help there! Maybe it was an Alliance expedition and some of the scouts would rescue him! But the more he observed the camp, the more that looked unlikely. The camp was guarded by a barricade made of crudely sharpened stakes, and even from the distance, he could see a pile of butchered meat and a blood-soaked ground. The encampment lacked the disciplined and orderly look of an Alliance base and seeing that Rogak was unconcerned by the camp’s presence, they were clearly no enemies of his. As the collar around his neck tugged and urged him to walk, Reilly had no other choice but to swallow his hopes once again.

For a long while, the two walked in silence. They must have been walking for hours as the pain slowly began setting into the worgen’s legs. Reilly no longer paid attention to the surrounding ruins, preferring to brood over his lot in life.

The physical strain on his body reminded him of his days training in the Stormwind Army. Exercises, combat training, formations, all of it had felt overwhelming for the worgen. At first, his worgen form allowed him to excel over his fellow young humans, but as always, as soon as Reilly thought his curse might actually be a blessing, it became a curse again.

His companions hated him. As if they didn’t keep enough distance from him out of fear of contracting his curse, they hated how much better he was, what he could do. His commanders were no different. Since Reilly could do more, he was just pushed more, way more, until he could barely stand. The feeling of his legs trembling that he felt while walking was not unfamiliar to him at all even if it had been a while since the last time he had felt like that.

There, he had felt out of place, and as Reilly glanced at the orc walking near him… nothing had changed. He was still in the company of someone that didn’t want to be with him. The only real difference was that Rogak was larger. And green.

The troll ruins had long since stopped intimidating him, and even the occasional wildlife he noticed from their vantage point no longer scared him. Melancholically his eyes drilled into the ground, staring at a cobblestone after cobblestone, then suddenly his eyes laid on the heels of a pair of large leather boots.

Rogak paused in his walk, and Reilly raised his head to see why.

Almost comically they stood in front of yet another rope bridge. Reilly looked at the orc, who gave him a nod with his head, the worgen knew what he had to do.

With annoyance, he stepped on the bridge and started to walk across. He paid no attention to the creaking sound that so scared him on the first two bridges, and just hoped that this was the last one. Too fast for him to react, a splintered plank gave way, and not even the claws on his paw stopped his leg from falling through the gap. Panicking, he instantly tried to balance himself and had his hands not been tied he would have tried to grab the rope railing, but instead, a burning tight grip took a hold of his shoulders and soon Reilly was being pulled back in one swift move. As his heartbeat slowed down, the green arms that held him in tight embrace made him realize that his back was pressed to the orc’s chest.

Nervously he turned his head to look at the orc. The red eyes drilled into his soul and across the green face was spread an unreadable frown. At first, he thought that the orc was angry with him, but then he got the feeling that there was something quite different in the orc’s expression.

He would have even thanked the orc had his maw not been held shut by a muzzle. Instead of words

he let out a guttural mutter. Rogak seemed to have understood anyway.

With a dismissive grunt, the orc eased his grip on the worgen, and pushed him to continue their journey.

For a few more hours they walked in silence as the path led them downhill. It was then that Reilly spotted something by the roadside that looked quite out of place. On the right side, a log of wood stood diyarbakır escort as tall as he was, it’s top crowned by a massive metal ring that was decorated by dull thorns. To the log were fastened three wooden spikes, all of them white and sharpened to a point that at first glance Reilly took them for large fangs.

Rogak walked straight towards the log, and as Reilly got closer, he could see that the ‘fangs’ had letters carved into them. It was a signpost he realized, since all of the tusks pointed to the road’s direction and one of them pointed towards a dirt path that led into the jungle.

This path was the one that interested the orc the most, as he tapped onto the sign and called to Reilly.

“We are right on track, in a few hours we will reach Grom’gol.” With a spiteful grin, he turned to the worgen. “I hope you are as precious as you say, pup.”

With a dry gulp, Reilly followed the orc into the jungle.

The severity of the situation pressed on him with every step he took. His

escape failed. He had no way of overpowering the orc. During the nights he was tied up and leashed so killing the orc in his sleep was also not an option.

If the orc had brought him to an Alliance camp, he could have hoped to be ransomed, even though he was just a nobody. But if the green monster was to sell him to the Horde, he was doomed.

“Don’t give up Reilly! You have to come up with something!” He repeated to himself in his mind over and over like a prayer.

The only way to buy more time was to lie even more. He needed to make himself appear more valuable than he really was. That meant that he had to bite into the nobility charade even harder.

In his mind, he tried to remember as many noble Gilnean families as he could. Nobody would believe that he was a Greymane, that would be stupid. The Crowley family were known in the Alliance military, associating himself with them would only cause him more harm. Godfreys? No. Waldens? Maybe? Silverlaines were all dead as far as he knew.

Tulvan, Candred, Marley, Ashbury, Morrison…

Reilly tried to remember any spoiled lordling he ever heard of, evaluating how believable it would be for him to claim that family name. Eventually, he picked a name and started making up answers to potential questions. He couldn’t tell what the outcome would be, maybe the Alliance would refuse to pay for an imposter, or they would punish him for this stunt, but if he could buy himself just a few more days, maybe he could figure out what to do next!

It’s not like the proverbial “executioner’s axe” was going anywhere…

As he was deep in thought, the journey through the jungle seemed but a moment, but even as absent-minded as he was at the moment, he did notice a large tree ahead of them. One of its roots, thick enough as a tree on its own, was bent over the road like a gate. And as they reached the large tree and passed under its large root, Reilly’s heart sunk.

Down below the hill stood a settlement. Tall crude structures with red roof tiles, encircled by wooden walls. And beyond it spread the ocean, as far as the eye could see. On the top of a tower, a red banner danced in the wind, bearing the black symbol of the Horde.

Reilly was feeling nauseous

already, but seeing the red encampment mere stone’s throw away made him feel as if someone had stabbed him in the guts with a dagger and twisted it. Given no other choice, he swallowed hard and followed the orc down the hill towards the open gate.

From afar he could see two orcs standing guard by the entrance. One of them seemed just as tall and large as Rogak, the other one was much slimmer and a bit shorter. Both of them were clad in boiled leather armor that left parts of their skin bare, painted with bright green color. The sentries seemed to become alert when they saw him following Rogak, but quick enough they guessed the exact relation of the two.

As the worgen and the orc reached the gate, the bigger one of the guards waved at Rogak who returned the gesture, the orcs then proceeded to converse in their crude language and Reilly was left to guess by their faces the mood of the discussion. Unsurprisingly the worgen seemed to be the subject of their talks, as both of them made nonchalant gestures in his direction. While the two of them were busy, Reilly repeated to himself his prepared lie again, over and over until he felt a cold stare drilling into his back.

He turned his head and saw that the second guardsman was closely studying him. He didn’t pay the other guard any attention at first, as he was more interested in who Rogak was dealing with, but it took only a moment to realize that the second guard was in fact, a she. From afar he thought her to be just a scrawnier male, but her healthy feminine curves and ample breasts were a dead giveaway of her sex. Her muscled arms, legs and chiseled abdomen made clear her physical strength and her face was quite pleasant to him, in quite an unfamiliar way.

While she studied him, her arm reached into the sack that hung from her shoulder and pulled from it an orange fruit, and as her eyes peered into his own, she flashed an amused smirk and bit into it, letting the orange juice run down her chin and drip onto her chest.

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