Horrors of Warcraft

This chapter contains: NC, F/M+/F+, torture, snuff, scat, humiliation, bestiality. Pretty much, if you're offended by ANYTHING, don't read. Or go ahead and read, but don't complain.

Horrors of Warcraft: The Spy

Alec faced into the warm breeze of Kalimdor and wished he could breathe it in. He could hear the sputtering purr of the zeppelin’s engines somewhere behind him as it slowly sailed through the sky. His bony hands gripped the railing and he watched the water drift by underneath. It was almost relaxing, but the unnatural stillness of his breath and body would always unsettle him- and beyond that, his mission was anything but relaxing.

*******************************

“The Forsaken cannot allow anyone who has attacked one of our citizens in this manner to escape,” said the captain, his voice as crisp as his footsteps and crisper than his uniform which, like his body, had seen better days. “We are in a delicate position, and we cannot afford to show any weakness to either the human alliance or to our allies in the Horde. The humans must perceive us as the strongest of the Horde or they will swarm all over us here in Tirisfal, where we have no allies to protect us.” Captain Liur calmly ranted as he paced, “we already barely hold Tarren Mill as things stand. And our allies… They must believe us a formidable force on our own or they will have no vested interest in our well-being. They will leave us to die here.”

“This incident- aside from the disturbing nature of the act itself- is a grave danger to the long term security of the Forsaken. It is vital, vital that you hunt down the gnoll that did this, and that you do so before his acts are widely known. That he could have gotten away with this almost directly in front of the Undercity itself is completely inexcusable. Not only that, but in his escape he evaded two members of the Deathguard and critically wounded one.”

The pacing stopped and Alec looked up at the captain, apprehensive. He had a pretty good idea where all of this was going.

“You’ve got a pretty good idea where all this is leading don’t you, Alec?”

“Yes sir.”

“Care to explain it to me?”

Alec would have sighed if he could. If he still had eyelids he might have now closed them in resignation. “You want me to follow the gnoll to Kalimdor and make an example out of him sir,” Alec said.

Of course it made perfect sense, in this way they could simultaneously punish Alec for his negligence in letting the gnoll escape and send a pursuer after it. While Alec was certain that Captain Liur was overstating the threat that this gnoll posed, it was still unthinkable to let it get away with its heinous acts.

The captain feigned surprise. “Why, thank you for volunteering soldier. Your self-sacrifice is a credit to the Deathguard. Well, I suppose you’d better get going. You are dismissed.”

“Yes sir.”

*******************************

Alec mouthed the words, “yes sir.” He could remember the conversation in perfect detail; in fact, everything that had happened to him since he had been reborn he could recall in perfect detail. But everything from his previous life was foggy, and hidden. Every time he uncovered a memory he treasured it like a gem.

They were nearing the shore now. Already passengers seeking a thrill or hoping to expedite their journey were leaping off of the zeppelin and into the ocean or even, in some cases, onto dry land. Having recently had a bad experience of his own falling from a zeppelin Alec naturally opted for the more practical choice of riding the zeppelin until it docked and stepping off onto the platform.

The zeppelin gracefully glided in and docked on the crude-looking tower. Alec ginger stepped off the aircraft and onto the dock and was relieved to find that it felt as solid as any structure he had ever encountered under his feet. He savoured the warm, dry air one more time (if he could, he would have taken a deep soothing breath of it now) and made his way to Orgrimmar.

*******************************

“Of course we of the Horde acknowledge the Deathguard as enforcement officers,” the orcish law enforcer captain droned. At this point, Alec could be pretty sure they didn’t like him. “However, we can not give you free reign of our territories in Kalimdor.” He wasn’t certain whether it was because he was one of the Forsaken or merely because he represented a bureaucratic obstacle to the local law enforcement. “Your job is to hold the Horde territories in the Eastern Kingdoms and to aid us in case of an invasion,” the orc said, savagely droning on. He wasn’t aware, until this very moment, that a voice could sound at the same time both savage and droning. The orc accomplished it quite well though. “The Deathguard are not needed in Kalimdor. So what do you want from us, and why have you come?”

It took him a moment to realize that the last abstractly hostile sentence had been an inquiry, and to realize its meaning. “Ah, sir, a gnoll has escaped.”

The orc raised an eyebrow; “Escaped? Do you now keep gnolls in captivity? I think you must know the Horde’s stance on slavery.”

“Uh, no sir, that’s not what I meant, um, sir. This gnoll, he, um, stole something.”

The orc’s eyebrow was raised again, or perhaps it hadn’t gone down (Alec hadn’t been paying attention), “You followed him all the way here to Kalimdor because he stole something?” The voice matched the eyebrow. He didn’t seem to be buying it.

“Sir, I know that might seem odd, but the persons who lost the- ahem- item in question have friends in high places. Not only that, but the nature of this, ehrm, item is quite... Well, this must, shall we say, be handled quietly but decisively.”

“Oh I see,” the enforcer said. Apparently this was a situation the orc was more familiar with, because all traces of hostile quizzicality had disappeared. Apparently corruption was the status quo as far as he was concerned. “Well then, just give me a description of the gnoll and we’ll let you know if he turns up.”

*******************************

The inn at Orgrimmar had been full. There had been so many people there that Alec’s perception had slowed down just to try to absorb the massive and savage majesty of the place. It was too much anyway, he was certain that he wouldn’t have been able to sleep in the inn surrounded by the nocturnal throngs of trolls and orcs. But fortunately he was saved the inconvenience of realizing that in the middle of the night by his discovery that the inn was full anyway. The innkeeper had directed him towards the nearby town of Razor Hill, which was where he was on his way to now.

Though he still enjoyed the warm breezes of Durotar, he was coming to thoroughly detest the dust. He was still dressed relatively lightly from his time in Tirisfal, wearing a light cloak over a breastplate, short sleeved leather shirt, and leather pants frayed away at the knees (as was the flesh underneath, leaving only creamy yellow bone visible). The dust found all of the cracks and holes in his flesh and somehow wormed its way in, and he could feel sand and grit in his joints. It was one of the most thoroughly unpleasant sensations Alec could remember encountering.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the wide, dry, red vistas that Durotar offered. There was no denying that, although the land was dry and barren, it had its own lonely splendour. The wind-carved rocks towered over him as he followed the canyon, and the outpost of Razor Hill slowly came into view.

It didn’t look like much. The town used the now-familiar orcish style of architecture; sharpened tree trunks coming out of the earth like giant fangs, beast skins slung across them to form crude shelters. But where in Orgrimmar this had appeared grand and savage, here it simply felt crude. The single dry mud street was completely empty. The town was still, empty, and apparently completely abandoned. The sun was just then touching the horizon in the distance, and night threatened to descend at any time.

Hesitantly he poked his head through the doorway into the building he had been told was the inn. Like the town, it didn’t look like much; a large domelike building which had no inside partitions, it was a wasteland of empty jugs and other debris. Hammocks were slung up in the corners, so apparently this was indeed an inn of sorts. Alec stepped inside the inn and almost jumped out of what was left of his skin when he heard a grunt almost directly in front of him.

An orc had been sitting there, right in front of him, almost completely still. Alec wasn’t certain how he had overlooked him, but the orc’s sudden movement and noise, among the almost unnatural stillness of Razor Hill, had startled Alec tremendously The large green man eyed him balefully, with a grimace that seemed to be permanent. “In or out? Which is it Deathguard?”

Alec caught himself trying to catch his breath, having momentarily been startled into forgetting he didn’t do that any more. “Um. Yes, is this the inn?” he inquired, although he was quite certain that it was.

“Yes. This is the inn. What gave me away? The beds? Or was the sign what tipped you off?”

“There was a sign? I mean- I’m Alec, nice to meet you.”

The orc regarded him with no shift in expression for an indeterminate but awkwardly long period of time. Finally, moving as though his parts had rusted together slightly during his long period of immobility, the orc shifted forward, and for one perilous moment Alec was terrified the innkeeper was about to offer to shake hands- fortunately, this threat didn’t materialize.

“Grosk. One night is one silver. How long you here for?”

“Ahh… I’m not sure. I’m waiting for the Orgrimmar enforcers to get back to me with some information.”

The orc chortled. “Then perhaps you’ll be here for a very long time indeed. Well, pay for this week now- if you end up leaving early then I will give you back the rest”

Alec reached in his pocket and pulled out seven silver. It was trivial next to the money provided by the Undercity for the mission he was undertaken, which they were quite generous with. As he was about to hand Grosk the money, he hesitated briefly. “Where is everyone anyway?” he asked, dropping the silver into Grosk’s palm. “This place is like a ghost town.”

“Eheh. They heard rumors of a human spy nearby. Everyone went out and they’re hunting for it now”

“I see. Thank you.”

Exhausted after a long day of dusty breeze and belligerent orcs, Alec collapsed into one of the hammocks. He still wasn’t certain how the undead were capable of sleep when so many other biological functions eluded them, but as the last of the day’s light disappeared from the doorway he was swallowed up in his personal darkness of slumber.

*******************************

Her skin was green. Her blood was red. They were screaming at her and she was screaming at the world, or anything that could hear her. The sun was in the sky and it was a beautiful day as they took her apart, hurt her, humiliated and mutilated her.

They’d found her nearby, wandering through the forest. When they had found her she’d tried to sell them medallions- simple things, made out of clay and copper. But they soon made it painfully clear she wasn’t welcome there.

She was dressed for summer in a thin white dress with some sort of pale floral pattern. Even from the back of the crowd, the young man could tell from the way she moved under the dress that she had nothing on under it. She’d had her hands tied behind her wrists roughly with leather cord, and a thin thread of blood ran down the side of her hand from where it had cut her.

A tall and cruel looking man, dressed all in blue and green skins roughly sewn together into garments, walked out to meet the unfortunate orc woman. He reached out and groped at her chest, and in one jerky motion ripped the flimsy cloth away.

And then, she screamed.

And then…

*******************************

The screams followed Alec from sleep. He could still hear them there, lying in the hammock, gazing at the flickering torchlight in the entrance of the inn. He recovered from sleep slowly, but the screaming kept going and going; a woman’s screams and the sounds of an angry mob.

He was awake. He was certain he was awake, but he could still hear the sounds of rage and fear and pain coming from outside of the inn. He tried to jump quickly out of the hammock and ended up merely launching himself face first into the floor. Scrambling on the treacherous surface of bottles and debris, he regained his feet and ran to the doorway.

It was unsettling. The main street of Razor Hill was lit only by flickering torchlight, making it difficult to discern any real details of what was going on. Although nothing could hide the obvious physiological differences between the trolls and the orcs in the crowd, by torchlight they all had the same mottled red skin tone. And in the center of this hostile circle was a woman.

At first Alec, still slow in recovering from his dream, mistook her for an orc. She was broadly and buxomly built, as were all of the orc women he’d seen, and her hair was coarse and black. She was wearing a dress which he guessed was light blue, but in the torchlight it could have been any color. Also because of the flickering torchlight, he didn’t notice until she looked up and he saw she had no tusks that she had the pinkish skin-tone of a human. He was dismayed to see that her right ear appeared to have recently been severed, and there was only a bleeding gash left on the side of her head where it used to be.

“WHAT is going on here?” Alec yelled, “What are you people doing?”

He had to scream as loudly as he could for them to hear him, and their bloodthirsty calls threatened to drown him out completely. Eventually, however, he managed to shove his way to the front of the violent crowd. The noise died down to a few angry mutters.

“Someone explain to me why you have seen fit to kidnap this woman and cut her ear off. One of you try to tell me what this woman could have done to deserve this treatment from you,” he yelled, glaring at the crowd. His glowing forsaken eyes seemed to cow them, even though most of them dwarfed him in terms of physical stature. “I am part of the Deathguard. I am the LAW. You cannot abduct strange women- even human women! Do I make myself clear?”

“A-HEM,” Alec heard someone loudly clear his throat behind him. Still enraged, Alec turned around and quickly stumbled back a step, startled by the sheer mass of the battle-scarred orc before him. “This woman is suspected of espionage. She will be interrogated to discover what information she has passed on to the humans, and then she will be put to death.”

“Interrogated?” Alec screamed, querulously, “Can any of you even speak her language? Or are you just going to torture her for fun? And who the hell are YOU anyway?”

“I am Nerigokt,” the orc confidently sneered, “and, quite to the contrary, I speak the human language fluently. So I, alone in Razor Hill, am qualified to undertake this interrogation.”

“So what,” Alec countered, “she just told you she’s a spy? Or are you simply going to assume that she’s your enemy and ‘interrogate’ her?”

“Hmph. We found this letter on her,” the orc said, grabbing a piece of parchment from the hands of a troll standing next to him. “It says, in the human tongue, that she is ordered to infiltrate Orgrimmar and to attempt to assassinate our great warchief Thrall; that is, if she gets the opportunity. If not, she is simply supposed to send information on the disposition of our defenses on a regular basis.”

Alec shrunk back, defeated, then jumped back forward. “Let me see that!”

The orc hesitated a moment, then passed the letter into Alec’s bony fingers. Alec peered at the letter, but it was indeed in the human tongue- he could not remember the language he had spoken when he was living. He stuffed the letter in his pocket, glowering.

“Fine. Do whatever you must. But as soon as she gives you whatever information you need you must do it quickly, and as painlessly as possible.”

Alec started to walk away when the woman, sensing the import of this, screamed piteously and grabbed at his arm. Alec looked at her sadly, with his eerily glowing eyes, and she kept babbling something at him. “Sorry,” he said softly, “but I can’t understand you.”

They looked at each other for only a moment longer before the huge scarred orc grabbed her by her hair and pulled her back towards him. He had a cruel grin on his face, and Alec had a sinking feeling that Nerigokt was going to enjoy this.

The crowd had started yelling again. Every face he saw was transformed by bloodlust. It was as though the Burning Legion had taken charge again and changed every orc and troll here into a monster. This spectacle would have been enough to sour Alec on his allies in the Horde forever if he hadn’t known that this behavior was nearly universal. Every animal is a monster when faced with a weaker enemy, and even a beast that can walk and talk is still a beast at its heart.

Alec watched sadly as Nerigokt roughly grabbed at the back of the woman’s dress and tore it away. The thin garment ripped all the way down to the hem, exposing her back from top to bottom. In the same motion, he smirkingly used his giant boot to shove her in the buttocks, pushing her over face first into the dusty, cracked street of Razor Hill. The woman barely managed to get her arms up in time to prevent herself from hitting the ground face-first, and for a moment she just lay there face down, quietly sobbing, with her back and ass exposed to all of the surrounding crowd.

Alec saw the effect this had on them. Many of them were looking wild-eyed and savage now, as cruel as Nerigokt had ever seemed. This wasn’t only men either, but of the crowd a few of the orc and troll women who were there seemed to have the same glow in their torchlit eyes. The rest of the crowd, a minority, seemed saddened and somewhat afraid by what they saw. Throughout the night, Alec observed them slipping away one by one, until he was the only one left who wasn’t a monster, and who could bear witness to this woman’s last moments on this world.

Once more, Nerigokt grabbed the smaller woman by her hair and pulled her to her feet, sobbing. He wrapped her dark strands around his fist and pulled her head back so she was arched over backwards, her chest thrust out, her legs slightly spread for balance. She had to stand on the balls of her feet so as not to submit her weight entirely to the grip Nerigokt had on her hair. Alec could see her nipples silhouetted against the torch behind her, clearly visible, whether because of cold, or terror, or even arousal he couldn’t say.

Her exposure elicited a low chuckle of aroused amusement from the onlookers. One of them, a troll woman clad in chain armor and with spiky dark purple hair, walked up to the woman as Nerigokt held her in that uncomfortable position. The troll approached and moved her face directly up against the terrified woman’s, their noses touching; she stared into the woman’s eyes point-blank. The troll was almost 2 feet taller than the buxom human woman so to accomplish this she had to bend over, and to help support her weight she planted her hands on the woman’s shoulders. For a long and breathless moment they stood there like that, the short human woman arched over backwards, whimpering, and the much taller troll woman bent over her, staring into her eyes. Then, the troll slid one large three fingered hand behind the woman’s head and pulled her into a kiss. The troll woman’s long and flexible tongue slid from between her tusks and probed the human’s mouth, tasting her terror as the human writhed under her, trying in vain to escape the violating kiss of the much larger woman.

The troll broke off the kiss and looked at her for one brief moment longer, smirking; then she spit in the human’s face. As the thick spittle slowly dribbled down beside her nose the troll turned away, then suddenly turned back and drove a mailed fist as hard as she could into the human woman’s belly. The woman slumped down with a gasp, then grabbed at her scalp as she felt her entire weight fall onto her hair. The troll gave an amused snort, grabbed the bodice of her dress and ripped away the remains of it, leaving the woman totally naked and exposed to the cheers of a crowd of angry orcs and trolls.

A slow and almost inaudible keening groan seemed to fill that small center section of Razor Hill. The crowd was feeding off of the woman’s suffering, and this was just the appetizer. Many of the men in the mob had obvious erections, and were making no efforts to hide this fact. The feast had begun. Alec almost wished he could still cry, so that at least this woman would have someone to cry for her sorrow.

Nerigokt finally released the woman’s hair; she fell down to the cracked mud street, her fleshy body jiggling with the sudden movement. Before she had a chance to recover from her fall Nerigokt sat on her belly, eliciting a squeak from the poor woman, and turned towards her feet. Nerigokt pulled an evil looking knife from his belt, its steel turned to flickering red and black by the torchlight. Turning around slightly, he waved it in front of her eyes and said something Alec couldn’t identify, something in the human language. The woman shook her head and muttered something back to him in the same language. Nerigokt answered her with a wild-looking smile, and turned his back to her. Roughly, he grabbed her left foot, still dusty from walking the path to Razor Hill, and lifted it to his face. Slowly, ponderously, her licked the dust from the side of her foot. His saliva left a muddy trail down the arch of her foot, and the woman was panting for breath as well as she could with Nerigokt’s bulk on top of her.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but the crowd could. All she felt was the rasp of his wet tongue, and then blinding agony; but the crowd saw. They saw him raise the dagger up, point down. They saw him line it up above her foot; and they saw its swift descent, the point digging under the nail of her largest toe, loosening it. They saw Nerigokt rip the nail out with his teeth. And they heard her scream. And they approved.

One by one they went. One by one he ripped out the nails in her left foot, each time turning back and asking her something. When she responded (or when she didn’t) he would grin that terrible grin of his again, and drop the removed nail onto her chest, between her undulating breasts, which jiggled with every wracking spasm of pain he inflicted upon her.

When there were finally a stack of ten perfect and blood soaked toe-nails on her chest, looking almost like unfortunate sea-shells, he turned around. Until now he hadn’t really seen the effect his torture had been having, but now he saw it all; she was sobbing, gasping for breath. Blood ran down her lips and out of her mouth from where she’d bitten herself. Her eyes were dazed, as though she’d retreated from a world that was too cruel for her. Again, Nerigokt asked her something in the human tongue; her muttered response was barely audible. Even before she responded, though, Nerigokt stood up, dropping his knife on the ground and undoing the loincloth which until now had covered his large, dark green member.

The crowd went silent. Everything was silence, except for the tortured woman’s sobs. Alec could hardly bear to watch. He knew that the woman had most likely already confessed under the torture she had just suffered, that Nerigokt was probably just doing this to satisfy his own lust and bloodlust. He couldn’t do anything though. He knew that if he tried to put a stop to this now, the crowd would turn on him, and possibly even tear him apart.

Nerigokt kneeled back down on her belly, in the same place as before. However, this time his cock was resting on her chest, between her breasts, on top of her bloody severed toe-nails. Slowly, almost majestically, he groped at her substantial breasts and pressed them to the side of his prick; and, under the approving silence of the crowd, he hammered into her breasts, faster and faster. The silence was disturbed by Nerigokt’s panting groans, and the quiet slaps as he roughly slammed into her cleavage over and over again. This went on for nearly five minutes, the crowd watching enraptured, before his great moan split the night and he came, still, tense, jerking, onto her crying face.

Where he released her breasts the marks of his fingers showed bright red against her pale skin They would never have a chance to bruise. His semen on her face was like a signal to the crowd; the white flag signifying her total surrender. One by one they came forward to take their turn with her, and sometimes one would take a little piece of her as a souvenir.

At first they just raped her, raped her in every possible way. Some fucked her pussy, others turned her over and raped her ass; sometimes they would do both at once. Several raped her mouth, but at one point one of the trolls claimed that she tried to bite him and methodically removed all of her teeth with a knife. These he stuck in a pouch at his waist. Then he fucked her toothless bloody maw, and by now a line had formed behind him.

The troll woman who had abused her earlier was at the back of the line, an unnatural luster in her eyes. She was naked now, the chain armor abandoned somewhere in this orgy of bloodlust. The tall woman sat heavily on her face, nearly breaking the human’s jaw with her impact. Holding the woman’s jaw open with her weight, the troll lined her asshole up with the defeated woman’s mouth. She voided her bowels into her mouth while she pissed all over the woman’s chin and chest, washing away the traces of blood from the removal of her nails (someone had since taken the liberty of also removing all of her fingernails, and had kept them as souvenirs). Although she was barely conscious of the world around her, traumatized by her agonizing torture, the woman still instinctively swallowed the troll’s feces rather than drown in them. The troll laughed harshly and started to hump the woman’s face, her juices mingling with the remnants of her shit smeared all over the human’s nose and mouth. Her body moved rapidly, lustfully, using the woman’s face as her own personal fucktoy. As her pace quickened, the troll picked up Nerigokt’s dagger which he had abandoned earlier. As her harsh voice called out her orgasm, the troll deftly slid the knife down between the woman’s legs and, careful not to nick the cock of the orc that was raping her then, gave her an impromptu circumcision.

Despite her apparently being beyond sensation for several hours now, the woman evidently felt this. Her toothless screams were muffled to almost nothing by the troll’s ass, but her spasms threatened to throw the larger woman off. The troll laughed and stood up, exposing her agonizing screams once more to the quiet town of Razor Hill. Sneering, the troll woman held her souvenir up high in the air for all to see and walked away.

However, the screams had gotten the attention of the crowd once more. The crowd of lustful men and women approached and began to rape her a second time, this time more violently than the first. Some of the men cut slits into her breasts and fucked those, some violently shoved their arms into her violated orifices as far as elbow deep. One carefully pulled out one of her eyes, keeping it intact, and proceeded to fuck the socket. And the women were, if anything, crueller. One woman put a dagger to the flames until it was glowing a dull red and burned any wound which seemed to be bleeding excessively shut; then, she turned the knife on the soles of the woman’s feet and the sides of her breasts. One brought a small container of salt and spread it wherever her wounds were most painful, most notably around the ravaged hole that her anus had become and the bleeding wound where her clitoris had once been (it had, surprisingly, escaped the cauterization process). One cut her tongue out with a thin bladed knife, and masturbated herself to orgasm with it. It was, however, soon necessary to burn the stump where her tongue had been to prevent her from drowning in her own blood. And what made it worst was that, by the end, she was still alive; tongueless, clitless, toothless, blinded, bleeding from every hole, covered in semen and blood, yet still she lived.

They fell asleep like that, in a circle surrounding her violated but still living body. They had exhausted themselves destroying her life. Alec stood, and looked at the remains of the blood orgy. He almost wanted to go down and slit each of their throats now, while they slept. But even after seeing what he saw last night, Alec was no cold-blooded killer; except in the literal sense. Quietly, careful not to wake any of them up, he walked over to the human woman. For a few seconds he stood there and watched her chest rise and fall, knowing that she must be in incredible pain, and that if it were up to her she wouldn’t be here any more.

Secure in that knowledge, Alec slipped Nerigokt’s knife between her ribs and into her heart; this, at least, was painless. He had been witness to it all, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. This helplessness was almost as terrible as what she must have felt, as she lay there and felt the pain; and screamed, and screamed, and screamed…

*******************************

The tall man in the oddly colored skins sneered at the orc woman as she screamed, her breasts suddenly exposed to the crowd of hostile humans. No one present could understand the words she was babbling, but it was obvious from her demeanor that she was begging them not to hurt her. The youth thought that her voice seemed low for a woman, but she was obviously female. ‘Maybe all orc women are like that,’ he thought.

“Speak human, bitch!” snapped the man in the skins, the hunter; Aenslar was his name. “Speak human or be treated like the animal you are.” The crowd surrounded the woman, pressing in all around her. They could smell her fear, and the sight of her sobbing there, her hands bound behind her, her breasts exposed to the warm afternoon air, had them all turned on.

She kept babbling in whatever language she was speaking, not knowing what Aenslar had just said. The youth could tell, from where he was standing, that Aenslar was pleased and trying not to show it. “I said speak human! Or are you a beast?” he cried, spinning her around and pushing her head down, down until it almost touched the ground. Her ass was thrust up into the air; it looked uncomfortable. Aenslar smirked and smacked her ass resoundingly. The orc tried to stand up suddenly, startled by the pain, but Aenslar put his boot to the back of her head to keep her from moving.

“If she’s a beast then perhaps we should breed her! Barnar, bring my horse Atnas. It’s been a long time since I found a beast intelligent enough to suit him. This one should please him greatly- for as long as she lasts.”

Aenslar’s horse was brought out. It was only middling in size (Aenslar had no need for a warhorse), but its already erect penis was just over a foot long and about 4 inches in diameter. “Evidently my mount approves of his mount!” he laughed, and the crowd laughed with him to see the humiliated orc woman before them.

Aenslar picked up the orc bodily and carried her, screaming, over to the town stocks. He slipped the knife out of his belt and cut her free from her bonds. For a second she struggled, trying to get away from him, but she was no match for his strength or weight as he forced her into the stocks, her heavy breasts dangling down. Aenslar bent over and grabbed at the hem of her dress, lifting it up and over, until her luscious thighs and ass were exposed.

“Bring Atnas over here Barnar. Show him where his mare is. He’ll do the rest,” he said to the man leading his horse. Indeed, as soon as the horse saw the orc’s exposed backside he trotted up to her and began to mount her. This may not have been the first orc he’d fucked.

The crowd watched, almost holding their breath, as thrust after thrust the horse tried to force its way into her, each time forcing a grunt out of her in her oddly low voice. Sometimes its aim was away off, either gliding down between her thighs or up between her ass crack, thrusting off into the sky above her. Sometimes it hammered futilely but painfully at her asshole, each time eliciting a little shriek from her. Eventually, though, Atnas started to make headway. Each pounding thrust, with the horse’s considerable weight behind it, burrowed a little way into her far-too-small pussy. After the horse had managed to get a few inches into her, every time it pulled out it would spatter a small amount of blood onto the grass under her. Yet the giant cock burrowed deeper and deeper. She was screaming, crying, tears were running down her savage face. And the horse cock just kept going, mercilessly, until with one final cruel stroke Atnas buried his meat into her, jerked twice, then dismounted and trotted away.

Blood and semen flowed freely out of her ravaged pussy. The entire crowd positioned behind her could see her gaping wide open, the yawning tunnel telling the entire story of her horse rape. And, as one, the mob rushed forward.

They had patiently waited while the horse had his way with her, but no more. The first man to get there wasted no time, but roughly pawed her jiggling green ass cheeks apart and forced his cock against her asshole. The orc grunted at this new anal intrusion, back and neck straining against the stocks, as the man roughly pounded his way into her rectum and opened her up for a second time. As that man raped her ass, men lined up all around her face and took turns masturbating, blasting their semen into her eyes, face, and hair. After the man behind her came into her ass, he pulled out his cock, stained with shit, blood, and semen, and walked in front of her and shoved it in her silently groaning mouth. Until then she’d been semi-conscious, and only partially aware of her surroundings; however, the taste of her own dirt seemed to trigger something and she emptied the contents of her stomach all over his dick and onto the ground. Grinning, the man wiped her vomit off in her hair, which was becoming increasingly messy as the day went on.

They took turns like that, for almost two hours. She was a mess, blood and jism leaking out of both of her violated orifices. Some children in the crowd had force fed her a pile of feces that some village dog had left nearby, giggling as the broken woman docilely ate the meal they provided. The traces of that, her last meal, and the juices of uncounted men and not a few women painted her face thickly. The remains of her dress were still on her, but had been used repeatedly as rags by the villagers; they were soaked in sex and shit. Her eyes were open, but unfocussed. She seemed to be dead to the world around her that had mistreated her so.

Only two men in the crowd had not so much has touched the woman. One was a youth, terrified by the monstrosity of people he had known all his life- the other was a monster of a different sort. Aenslar watched the orc’s desecration and grinned, burning with pleasure at her suffering.

The crowd was undoing the stocks and laying the orc woman out on the ground, apparently in preparation for furthering her desecration. A giggling young blonde girl, who didn’t look a day older than 14, bounced up naked and kneeled next to the brutalized woman. Pinching the orc’s nipple, the girl pulled her breast far away from her chest, pointing up into the air. A glint of light and the dark green flesh was severed from the woman’s body, the giggling girl dancing around holding it in the air.

What happened next was a blur. One second the girl was dancing around like that, waving the woman’s severed nipple, dripping blood, in the brisk afternoon breeze, and the next she was on the ground, a tall green man over her, punching her in the face over and over and over again. The crowd was silent, almost terrified, as they watched Aenslar beat the girl for no apparent reason.

Eventually he stopped. It had only been ten or fifteen seconds, but it had seemed much longer. The young girl lay on the ground, perfectly still. Aenslar’s hand was bloody, stained in her blood and in his where her teeth had cut into his knuckles. Slowly, face still flushed with fury, he stood up and walked over to the prone body of the orc woman. Again he picked her up bodily, and no one stopped him as he walked away.

They buried the girl the next day. She had been Alec’s sister, back when he was still human, back when he was a youth.

*******************************

Alec started to walk away when the woman, sensing the import of this, screamed piteously and grabbed at his arm. “Help me!” she begged, “This orc is lying! He’s lying to you! Whatever he’s telling you is wrong, he just wants to hurt me! That letter is proof!”

Alec looked at her sadly, with his eerily glowing eyes, “Sorry,” he said softly, “but I can’t understand you.”

*******************************

Alec snapped awake. The streets of Razor Hill were once more abandoned. The sun was in the sky, but it was still chill out. It seemed like midmorning, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep. He was lying against the wall, outside the inn. Nearby there was a fire that had burnt down to nothing, tendrils of smoke wafting from the inside and up to the sky.

He stood up, uncomfortably. Even when he was alive, he knew, spending a night in the position he’d just been in would have made him ache. Slowly he stumbled over to the fire, rubbing his back where it was sore. Gazing into the stack of blackened logs, he saw a glint of white bone. Alec took off his cloak and laid it on the ground next to him. Slowly, painstakingly, he sifted through the ashes, picking up the human’s soot-stained bones wherever he could find them and placing them on his cloak.

The sun was directly above him in the sky when he knew he was finished. Wrapping his cloak up into a bundle full of bones, he took a shovel from the inn’s stables and walked out into the wastelands of Durotar.

When he was certain that he no longer could be seen from Razor Hill, he began digging. He knew it didn’t need to be deep; no predator would care for these bones with all their meat burnt away. He dug quickly, and before an hour had passed he had a three foot deep hole. Carefully, he opened his bundled cloak and shook the bones until the hole he’d dug.

Alec was far from religious, but he felt like he should say something. So, with that in mind, he placed his hand over his still heart and gazed up into the red sky of Durotar. However, he was surprised to feel something unfamiliar in his shirt pocket. Reaching in, he pulled out the parchment, untouched from the blood festival of the night before. He opened the letter.

It read:

Widow Caedwes

I was sorry to hear of your loss. The Horde bears no ill will towards your husband for, although he struck many great blows against us, we all recognized him as a great and noble warrior. Because of that, I offer you his sword and armor, which our agents recovered from the battleground. Please honor his memory, as we will mourne the loss of a great foe.
I will guarantee your safety while you are in Orgrimmar. I will provide an escort to bring you here unharmed. Please speak to Nerigokt in Razor Hill, he is the head of the enforcers there and the only one who speaks your language. Although the guards may distrust you at first, they will certainly bring you to him with no harm as long as you come unarmed. From there, Nerigokt will escort you to Orgrimmar.

Respectfully,
Warchief Thrall

*******************************

The sun was setting when Alec returned. Eyes down, he approached the impromptu gravesite he had created.

“Widow Caedwes,” he said, “I present this knife to you to help you find your way in the afterlife. This knife, which I used twice to relieve your suffering, is rightfully more yours than anyone’s. I hope you find the peace there that was denied you here.”

And with that, Alec dropped Nerigokt’s knife, soaked in fresh blood, into the hole. Nearby, at Razor Hill, Alec could hear the cries of the alarm being raised. The sun had gone down completely now, and torchlight once more flickered as he swiftly filled the hole, throwing the red soil of Durotar all over the bones and bloody knife.

Alec sighed. "What a waste of six silver," he thought as he ran off into the night, the torch lights behind him like a regiment of fireflies drawn up for battle.