Opposed Factions Pt. 01

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

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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.

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As he laid there in ambush, the worgen tried to control his breathing.

Crouching in a bush behind the trees wasn’t something new for Reilly. In his training and, hell, even in his childhood, he had done plenty of that. What the young worgen hadn’t done, however, was killing Horde soldiers. And that was what he was about to do. The worgen’s grip on the pommel of his dagger tightened.

“Be quiet, dog. Don’t screw this up this time,” the human crouching by his side whispered to him. A slap on the back of his head that Reilly wasn’t expecting followed and, because of that, the small growl and show of teeth that he gave the human was purely reflexive for the worgen, but it still made the human recoil from him.

“Savage, cursed mutt…” he heard the human muttering in a low voice under his breath with his canine ears. The worgen simply huffed and looked away, keeping his own distance from the human. He didn’t even remember the man’s name and, given the fact that he wore a helmet, Reilly could barely see his face. Of the five scouts waiting in the ambush, he was the only one that didn’t wear a helmet because the damn settlement of Lakeshire didn’t have any worgen-shaped ones.

Being downwind, the worgen’s nose twitched as he detected something different. Reilly actually noticed the enemy was coming right before the signal was given. A single rumble in the bush on the other side of the wide road was the indication they needed that he was close. The human by his side started notching a bolt into his crossbow while the worgen kept his head low, stood still and pretty much held his breath to avoid making any noise.

Soon enough, his ears twitched to the sound of heavy steps. The road south-east of Lakeshire was full of curves and from one of these did he emerge. A single orc, as reported, mounted on one of those nasty, oversized saddled wolves of theirs. When he came within sight, Reilly leaned forward just a little bit to better study the first real orc he had ever seen in his life.

He wore a large hooded cloak draped over his shoulders concealing most of his form, but in the morning light, Reilly could still see that his skin was of a bright green color like most drawings of orcs he had seen in books and lectures. Used to being around humans, the orc’s bulky size impressed the worgen. He had broad shoulders and, as the books said, did look more like a beast than like a man. New hints of his strange scent hit the worgen’s nose and, reflexively, he sniffed again. It was different from any humans he had ever smelled, but also not quite as bad as he had always imagined it’d be.

In accordance with their plan, the leader of the scout team jumped down from a tree by the roadside to fall right in the middle of the road and

block the orc’s path. He raised one hand to signal the orc to stop while the other rested on the pommel of his sword.

“Halt, orc!” the captain said. Gregory was his name. The last word was spoken with a tone of repulsion added to it that the worgen was all too familiar with. “You have entered undisputed Alliance territory! Surrender yourself to us right now or die!”

The orc’s hand on his mount’s reins gave it one single tug and halted it to a stop. The large wolf growled at the human who did not seem all that happy about it, but the orc didn’t move. He didn’t climb down from the mount or even said anything. Maybe he didn’t speak any Common? The moment of tense silence stretched on, and then further still, making Reilly’s anxiety grow. By his side, his companion hustled the leaves of their bush ever so slightly as he pointed the crossbow straight at the orc, ready to shoot.

Captain Gregory, always the impatient sort, drew his sword in a menacing way. The orc stared at him but still said nothing. Through the silence and with his sensitive worgen ears, Reilly could’ve sworn he heard the orc sigh.

And then, everything happened at once. With uncanny speed and precision, the orc drew a hand-axe from under his cloak and threw it. Reilly gasped seeing the weapon spinning his way, then let out an outright whimper when the human with the crossbow

next to him grunted in pain as the axe hit him straight in the chest. The worgen fell back sitting and crawled away from the fallen human.

“Attack!” came the order. From the other side of the road, the other two humans jumped out of hiding. The crossbow on the other side fired and hit the orc’s mount with precision, toppling the big beast in one hit and forcing the orc to jump down from it in a hurry. He already had another axe in his hand.

Reilly took a deep breath and steeled himself. He gripped his dagger, stood up and moved as well. The captain and the other human çanakkale escort charged at the orc and traded blows with him in direct confrontation, but the worgen’s job was different. His paw pads touched the ground with silent purpose as he quickly approached the orc from behind with his dagger in hand.

“Strike below the ribs. Below the ribs. Just like in practice. Below the ribs…” Reilly thought to himself. He sped up his step eyeing the busy orc’s waist. One good hit was all he needed. The worgen got close enough for a leap from the shadows, dagger plunging forward towards its target, eyes deadly set on the right spot…

Yet at the last possible second, the orc spun. Reilly didn’t have time to react to the large green fist that came towards his muzzle as he only lifted his eyes to see it right before it hit him. The strength of the blow was such

that the worgen flew back. His world spun, his vision darkened and pain shot up from his muzzle. Then, with a whimper, the worgen felt his back hit the ground.

Reilly tethered at the edge of consciousness. The sounds of the battle that had seemed so loud before felt distant. The throbbing pain in his muzzle made the worgen grunt and slowly bring a paw up to feel it. Nothing broken. Reilly realized he had let go of his dagger at some point. That triggered some distant memory of a human whose name he didn’t remember telling their class that the moment you let go of your weapon, you lose. Had he lost? It happened so fast! It wasn’t fair. The hazy part of Reilly’s mind then felt afraid of the reprimand and punishment the humans would give him for failing. They’d blame it all on the ‘cursed dog of Lakeshire’ again. Fuck, that would suck…

At some point in his haze, Reilly noticed that the sound had stopped. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but the blue sky at first. His muzzle still hurt, though. His paw rubbed it and he groaned from the pain. He registered the sound of steps by his side and then, all of a sudden, a hand grabbed at the leather vest on his chest to yank him up to a sitting position. The worgen suddenly found himself face to face with the orc. Adrenaline shot through him to help him recover his senses which in turn had Reilly’s hands coming up to protect himself, but they froze in place when the orc’s other hand had the edge of his axe pressed right against the worgen’s neck.

Reilly could now see the orc from up-close. His skin was green indeed with dark hair over his orcish head that already had a few graying locks. The orc, however, looked anything but old. Absent his cloak, the warrior’s muscular biceps were exposed and his

chest, while hidden, was well defined under the layer of crude chainmail armor he wore. Around his waist was tied a sash of bright purple cloth. His eyes were red as he stared into the worgen’s own and the large orcish tusks protruding from his mouth looked as intimidating as any worgen’s canines for Reilly there and then. The worgen’s ears flew back with fear. The sight of his former companions fallen in the background didn’t escape his sight either.

“W-wait! Don’t kill me!” the worgen pleaded.

The orc pretty much growled at him and pressed his axe harder against the worgen’s neck.

“The way I see it, worgen, I have two options,” the orc said in an accented but otherwise surprisingly fluent Common, “either I let you live, you run back to your outpost and I find myself ambushed by three times the amount of alliance soldiers… or I kill you and continue on my way in peace.” The orc pressed the edge of the axe dangerously close to the worgen’s neck. Reilly let out another whine with his eyes widening.

“I won’t tell anyone!” Reilly blurted out desperately. That made the orc sneer down at him.

“Sure you won’t.” The orc pulled his axe back. For a moment, the worgen thought maybe he’d have a chance, but he soon saw that the orc was actually lifting it for a blow. “Sorry pup. I already lost my mount in this damn ambush. Bred and prepared that damn wolf myself for years. Was ready to be sold. Do you know how much gold your little raid cost me? If you’d just let a lone orc be on his way, none of this would’ve happened.”

The edge of the orc’s axe glistened against the sun. The worgen looked up at it with fear in his eyes. His mind raced. Every survival instinct he had kicked in. Reilly tried to pull away from the orc, scramble back, but the orc had a knee over his legs to keep him still. He tried to use his paws to pull pry the orc’s hand away in a hurry, but the axe would come down if he tried anything. Reilly did the only thing he could possibly think of to survive.

“Wait! WAIT! You can get gold! You can get gold!!”

His words did make the orc stop. He lifted an eyebrow. Those red eyes studied him closely. When the axe didn’t come down at him, the worgen quickly continued.

“I’m from a noble family! A very noble Gilnean family! I-If

you take me back to Lakeshire they’ll pay ransom for me! çeşme escort You can get gold and I live! Please!”

The orc didn’t react right away. Still with axe in hand, he continued to study the worgen while Reilly’s heart beat loud in his chest. …Would he see through his lie? Reilly didn’t have a drop of ‘noble’ blood coursing through his veins. Finally, much to his relief, the orc lowered his axe with a grunt.

“Is that why you’re such a bad fighter? You humans with your senseless belief in noble blood always make for the worst ones.” The orc scoffed at him but did put his axe away. The worgen found that he could easily ignore the insult to his lack of fighting prowess if it meant he’d survive.

“Fine. Might as well make up for some of my loss.” Before Reilly could even say anything else, the orc’s fist was coming up towards his face again. The second blow must have been very calculated because the worgen barely had time to register any pain before the world grew black and his consciousness faded.

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The cawing of crows stirred him awake. His eyes were still closed, and his head was tortured by a splitting headache. Pressed to his face, he felt the moist texture of grass and his nostrils were invaded by the smell of dirt and dried blood. Did he get drunk again last night? Did he get into a fight with one of the townsfolk again? No matter, it’s not like the Captain or the rest of the scout team would think of him any less for it. He didn’t imagine they could since they hardly considered him anything more than a cursed monster. Wait, the Captain! The scout team!

It all came back to him in a flash. The ambush. The orc! Reilly opened his eyes in a fit of panic, only to be blinded by the rays of the afternoon sun. When he frantically tried to rise up, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back, and soon enough he noticed that his legs were bound as well. Without thinking he tried to yell for help, only to find that his muzzle was constricted as well. His eyes darted to his nose and he saw that a leather muzzle covered the whole of his snout save his nostrils, keeping his maw shut.

“Finally awake, pup?” The rough low voice sent shivers down the worgen’s spine. Reilly slowly turned his head towards the direction from which the orc’s voice came from until his eyes laid upon his captor. There stood the green mountain. His back was turned to the worgen, and between his spread legs, Reilly saw a yellow stream flowing down, clashing against an old oak that stood in front of the orc. He no longer wore his cloak, thus giving the worgen a better look at his features.

His black hair was tied into a thick braid that ran across the orc’s scalp and down his back, long enough that the tip almost reached the orc’s waist. The braid was adorned by metal rings and bands. From both of the orc’s ears hung on a leather string a large tusk. Or horn, or maybe those were teeth or claws, but they were larger than his canines, about the size of the orc’s own tusks. What monstrous animal they came from he couldn’t tell. Both of the orc’s arms were exposed. They were bulging with muscles and covered in a disorderly collage of tattoos.

The orc was done pissing. He shoved his dick back into his pants (something Reilly was glad he didn’t have to see), turned around and started walking in the worgen’s direction. A wave of fear once again washed over the worgen, as those horrible red eyes drilled into Reilly’s own green ones once again. The orc cut the distance in a few steps and squatted in front of his terrified captive. He didn’t say a word, he just sat there studying the young soldier. Now that Reilly had a proper look at his face, the orc didn’t seem as scary as he thought he would be. From the front, he noticed that the orc’s braid began as a semi-mohawk. A few locks of hair standing wild at the orc’s widow’s peak, quickly transforming into a black and gray serpent that slithered down the orc’s spine. Surprisingly, the orc’s tusks were just as clean as Reilly’s own teeth. His nose was adorned by metal bull-ring piercing. The orc’s lips were curved into a thoughtful frown and on his upper lip laid an old scar from presumably a cut. On his chin, the orc cultivated a short goatee.

He grabbed the worgen with both hands and put him into a sitting position. Reilly tried to say something, only to be reminded of the leather muzzle keeping him shut as soon as he attempted to open his mouth.

“Sorry about that, but I really can do without you yelling the moment you woke up.” The orc sounded awfully calm and collected for a savage beast sneaking through hostile territory. He wasn’t what Reilly imagined and orc would look and act like. He always heard of smelly, ugly, stupid and cruel beasts. This orc, however, didn’t stink, he smelled different from anything Reilly knew but he certainly didn’t stink. He wasn’t some fair elf, but his face wasn’t horribly disfigured, covered diyarbakır escort in warts or hard to look at in any other way. And from the look in those red eyes, Reilly guessed that this orc was far from stupid. If he was cruel, however, was yet to be seen.

“Are you thirsty?” asked the orc, yet the firm voice made it sound like a statement rather than a question. Now that the orc said it, Reilly felt how dry his mouth and throat were. Carefully and slowly he nodded. In response, the orc suddenly raised his hand and a green palm flew towards Reilly’s head. The worgen shut his eyes and cowered in fear. That was the wrong answer! The orc just tried to trick him! But instead of a punch, he heard a chuckle. After slowly opening his eyes he found that the leather muzzle that imprisoned his jaws was covered by a large green hand.

“You really are a coward, aren’t you?” said the orc, and his voice dripped with amusement. “Did your owner beat you when you were a little puppy?” This time the orc pitched his voice for comical effect, talking to him as he would with a toddler. Reilly was, however, too frightened to even mind the mockery.

“Here’s how it’s going to work, pup,” continued the orc, in his normal voice. “I will remove this muzzle and if you won’t start yelling, I will give you a bottle of water to drink from, and food to eat. If you start making noises, I will put that muzzle back on, and for the rest of our journey, I will just dump your head into the river when I feel that you look thirsty. Same with food, but I doubt that you will enjoy having that cold snout of yours diving into a pot of boiling soup.” Reilly stared at the orc blinking. He was clearly waiting for the warning to fully sink in, before continuing. “After you are done drinking and eating, we will talk. You will answer me quietly and to the point. Or I will put the muzzle back on, and the same punishment applies. Do we understand each other?” And again, his question was a statement.

The green fingers undid the muzzle and cold forest breeze caressed the worgen’s now exposed snout. Reilly, however, was almost too afraid to breathe. The orc untied a waterskin bottle from his belt, removed the cork and placed the mouth of the bottle to Reilly’s lips. The worgen would have preferred if he didn’t have his hands tied behind his back and could hold the bottle himself, but with the thirst, this was just a minor inconvenience. Reilly drank from the bottle to the last drop, and for a moment was afraid the orc would punish him for it, but his captor apparently didn’t mind. After that, the orc pulled from his bag a slice of bread and a sausage. He let Reilly have one bite of the sausage, it tasted similar to pork, and slowly fed him the slice of bread, piece by piece. The young worgen’s hunger wasn’t quite sated. But considering his situation, he was grateful for what he got.

“You see?” said the orc “If you play by the rules with me you will be rewarded, misbehave and you will be punished.” The orc was silent for a moment to make a point before he sat himself down from his squatting position and continued. “So,

your name.”

The worgen gulped and waited, fearful of whether or not he could speak. “Rei-” He started, but his throat was sore, so he coughed a little before continuing “R-Reilly Cotton.” The twitching in the corners of the orc’s mouth was a good enough sign that the orc found the name amusing. But surprisingly, or maybe not, unlike for many humans, making fun of Reilly’s name was too low even for the orc.

“How much gold are you worth?”

The lie that he told the orc to save his life dawned on him. He had no noble relatives. In fact, he had no living relatives to begin with. He was a street urchin ever since his family was killed by feral worgen back in Gilneas. Ever since he was bitten…

He hardly had a few silver coins to his name and his property were the clothes he wore and the food he ate. His only hope was that the people in Lakeshire were honorable enough that they would ransom a soldier of the Alliance even if in their eyes he is just a cursed mutt.

He looked around to see how far they were from Lakeshire, and suddenly he noticed something terrible. He was so preoccupied with the orc that he didn’t even notice they were no longer in Redridge. His eyes

twitched from place to place until they landed on those red mountains laying in the distance. He even saw the guard tower at Three Corners and even closer he saw the stone bridge that separated the Redridge Mountains from-

Oh no, they were in Duskwood.

Reilly felt like he was going to vomit the little bit of food he just ate. What was happening? Why was he not taken to Lakeshire? Did the orc see through his lie? If he did, why was he still alive? Why didn’t the orc kill him? And why was he asking-

“Are you deaf, filthy mutt? I asked, how much gold will I get for you,” the orc growled. His patience with the young worgen was clearly not infinite.

“A LOT!” Reilly practically yelled out “A lot! You will get a lot of money, my family is rich!” That seemed to placate the orc’s irritation. “B-But, where are you taking me? Are you not going to ransom me?” Reilly almost begged his captor for explanation, but got only laughter in response.