Chapter 1 - Grunt Work

Four years. Four years Grosha had walked the Orgrimmar beat, and watched her city grow toxic before her eyes. She had been proud, once, to have been drafted into the city guard, but no longer. Garrosh’s Orgrimmar was one of petty cruelty, and the guard no less corrupt. Too many of her fellows were on the Kor’kron payroll. Arbitrary arrests, extortions, beatings of non-orcs… all commonplace and given tacit approval.

Worst was the Valley of Spirits. On Commander Malkorok’s orders, policing the quarter was kept to a minimum—until the call went out for a “special inspection”, little more than intimidatory raids. No wonder then that the trolls took policing into their own hands.

Four years, and not a day longer. This was the final day of her conscription. She was counting the minutes. She had to get out of this poison city. Any fool could tell you what happens when you beat a dog one time too many—she wanted to be nowhere near when the dog bit back.

She rounded the corner at Nogg’s machine shop, her feet thumping down the familiar cobble, her athletic form lending confidence to her stride. The street was lined with ramshackle huts and towers, dense as Ashenvale. A great tarp ran along the top of the canyon walls, covering the slum in perpetual shade. Packs of feral children scurried in alleyways, scrounging scraps. On every street corner, a peddler; in every doorway, a prostitute. The Drag wasn’t even the seediest part of town, but it had gone to shit, same as the rest. She was glad to leave as she passed the inner gates, through to the Valley of Honor. But its canyon walls too seemed impossibly enclosing—suffocating and claustrophobic. Her barracks, the Hall of the Brave, loomed ahead, all intimidating angles and menacing spikes. Her home and her prison. She spat before ducking through its portcullis.

Sergeant Braduk greeted her with a wave and a grin before giving his training dummy a finishing blow, lopping its head clean off. The straw-stuffed head rolled to Grosha’s feet. She kicked it back to the orc.

“Grosha! I hear it’s your last day. How does freedom taste?” he said, leaning his axe against the wall.

“I wouldn’t know. Still got two hours left on the shift, sarge.”

“A grunt ‘til the last, huh? Well, hope you steer clear of the Spirits ‘til then. Mood’s grimmer than death. Trolls are looking for blood. Wouldn’t want another body floating downriver, and such a beautiful corpse you’d make...”

“You really know how to charm a girl, Braduk.”

He laughed, coarse and guttural. “Well, anyway, me an’ the boys figured we give you a proper sendoff. Come down to the Wyvern’s Tail later and we’ll buy you a drink or five, talk about better days, huh?”

She grinned. “Ain’t no drink like a free drink. I’ll be there.”

* * *

The last shots of frog venom brew had been a few shots too many. The candlelight seemed unusually bright as she staggered around the dingy room a bit, cup clenched in fist. Her drinking companions, some ten other orcs in guard wraps, were handling themselves about as well as her.

“Well, grunts,” she slurred, “I’d say it was an honour, but uh, I’d be lying. ‘Least half of you I know are bastards, so fuck yourselves.” She drained her cup as they erupted with raucous laughter. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “An’ fuck the guard. An’ fuck the city. An’ most of all, fuck Garrosh!” The smiles evaporated, though someone cheered. Griselda shot a glance at the door, as if the Kor’kron would be bursting in. Braduk, still lucid, grabbed Grosha by the shoulder and guided her to her barstool.

“Dangerous talk, that,” he whispered, and saddled up next to her.

“Don’t care. Won’t be staying in Orgrimmar anyway. Be gone by morning.” She waved at the barkeep, a sour-looking Blackrock orc, who poured her another drink.

“Hah. Taking up the adventuring life, are we?” Braduk said.

She snorted. “Ain’t much one for dragonslaying, me. No, I just never liked being cooped up in one place. Think I’ll travel ‘round, see the world an’ all that.”

“A rover, then! Well, I’ll be sad to see you go.”

“Yeah, I know it.” Playfully, she prodded his chest. “I know you’ve had your eyes on me. Especially in the showers, huh?”

“How could I help myself?” he said, feigning offence. “Not an orc alive could avert his gaze.”

“Mhm.” She sipped her cup, savouring the fire in her throat. “Wish we’d gotten to know each other better, but, well, the guard. The guard’s our life. Was. Whatever.”

“There’s still time. Dawn hasn’t broken yet.”

“Don’t you have morning shift?” She glanced around the room. “All of you?”

“Yeah, but as you put it—”

“Fuck the guard.” She drained her drink and slammed the cup down.

“You’re still real wound up, huh? Thought a night out would’ve taken care of that.”

She glanced at him askew. “You wouldn’t believe how long it’s been since I last got laid.”

“Yeah? Well no wonder. Maybe we oughta do something about that,” he said, grinning. “Let’s get out of here, find someplace—”

Something primal ignited in the back of her mind. A repressed impulse surfaced as she damned the consequences.

She grabbed the back of his neck. “Fuck that,” she hissed. “Here and now.” She locked lips with him even as he struggled out of surprise. She grabbed at his rapidly bulging crotch, not giving one shit what anyone thought, and he fumbled at her tits, slipping a hand down her tunic. She broke off the kiss, a strand of spittle suspended between them, glittering obscenely in the torchlight. She felt eyes at the back of her neck as others took notice of them. She didn’t care—if anything, it excited her. Braduk was clearly having second thoughts, so she gripped his cock through his pants, massaging his shaft and fondling his tip with her thumb.

“Damn you, woman,” he grunted. Letting go of him, she turned around and pressed her ass against him, gyrating against his crotch, guiding him up off his stool. He grabbed her hips and pressed closer still. Through the layers of leather between them, she felt his bulging presence, throbbing against her. She bent herself over on the bar, presenting herself to him. Hungrily, he undid her belt and tugged off her pants. He grabbed a handful of her rounded ass, then turned his attention to her moist slit. He ran a finger along it, then inserted it roughly. All around them now, the grunts were all gapes and grins, not believing the display in front of their eyes. The barkeep ignored them entirely, his face chiseled from stone. Polishing mugs seemed infinitely more interesting.

Two fingers were at work now, then three—slick with moisture, in and out with a soft shlick shlick. She moaned and glanced back at him.

“Enough. I want you.”

He grunted in agreement and undid his pants. His cock stood proud and he thanked the furies that the drink hadn’t sapped him. Deliberately, he prodded at her, his tip poking her lips without entering. Impatiently, Grosha simply shoved herself onto him. His girth filled her with pleasure, and he got the message. The last of his inhibitions discarded, he began bucking against her, each thrust slapping against her ass and rocking her forward on the bartop. She felt his nails claw into her bottom, clenching harder with each ramming. Gods, it’d been far too long since she’d been fucked this hard. He kept up the exhausting pace for a solid minute, a grunt soldiering on. She rested on her elbows, content to simply be used, each pounding reverberating along her entire body, sending her inching toward release.

Without warning Braduk withdrew with a wet squelch.

“Hey, why’d you—”

He slammed into her asshole, filling her entirely. She yelped with pain and surprise as he piston-pumped the depths of her anal cavity. The lack of warning had made her contract her muscles, vicing his cock impossibly tightly and egging him on further yet. Agony and ecstasy dulled her senses as she hissed through gritted teeth. She’d been so close, though, and couldn’t reach her cunt to service herself. Braduk seemed to sense her annoyance, as he slipped his hand down to finger her needing snatch. Trying to relax was a futile effort in the face of the dual stimulations, his cock wrecking her ass and his clumsy fingers probing her cunt.

Braduk couldn’t fight the familiar welling in his stem any longer. He pressed the attack and came, hard. She felt him shoot his burning seed into her ass with each thrust, enveloping her entirely and sending her over the edge. Muscles tensed, back arched, fiery bliss overtook her. She spasmed with orgasm even as he slowed down, both of them spent, panting.

They lay still for a moment. Awkwardly, he pulled out, come drooling out of her ass and onto the floor planks. He looked around, now suddenly very of where he was and what he had been doing. The grunts, who had crowded around in near-silence, burst into a raucous cheering. Face reddening, he fumbled for his pants, though Grosha remained where she was, still bent over. Braduk glanced over at the barkeep, still polishing the same mug as before, doing his damnedest to stare down the wall. Braduk leaned over snatched the polishing rag from out of his hands. The barkeep didn’t even meet his gaze. Braduk offered the cloth to Grosha with a mumble. Vacantly, she glanced over and accepted it, finally removing herself from the bartop. Still pantsless as she cleaned herself up, she smiled at him.

“You’re all right, Braduk. And now I’d like to get some shut-eye.”

* * *

Sparks showered her as she stepped into the cramped machine shop. Goblins were busy welding and tinkering an array of mechanical devices. Grosha tapped the chief engineer on the shoulder to get his attention. He turned around and tapped his safety helmet back at her.

“Morning, Grosha,” he said. She handed him a handful of coins. He counted them out and shrugged. “All right, that’ll just about cover the job. But listen kid, she needs a need carburetor, new pistons, new gearbox—”

“You know I can’t afford that stuff, Nogg.”

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded at the worn-looking mechano-hog resting against the wall. “Shame, too. Real beauty of a bike.”

“But she’ll run?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’ll run. No telling for how long though. Best I can do for her. Sorry, kid.”

“She’ll take me as far as I need to go.”

Nogg chuckled. “How’d you get your hands on a bike like that, anyway? Bit above your pay grade, even in this condition.”

“I gambled. And won.”

He whistled. “Musta been some card game, huh? Well, anyway. If you find your fortune out there, you bring that bike back and I’ll see her right.”

“Will do. Thanks, Nogg.”

She hefted the bike and wheeled it out of the shop. Outside, Braduk was leaning against the doorway, dressed in full grunt regalia. He scratched his head and coughed. Grosha tilted her head.

“Hey you,” she cooed.

“Hey. Last night, that was… well, that was a hell of a thing.” He had none of his usual bravado. “Uh,” he continued, “you’re still dead-set on leaving, then?”

“Yeah. Can’t stand staying in Orgrimmar a minute longer. What’d you think last night was, anyway? Burned my bridges real good.”

He snorted. “That so? Still leaves me. Don’t think I’ll ever live that one down.”

“I’m sure you can deal with it, big boy.” She poked him in the chest. “No one’s gonna call you a whore.”

“That’s sergeant big boy to you.” He chortled, finally cracking a smile. “You shittin’ me? This morning the barracks were all a chorus of, ‘there goes man-whore Braduk, fucked a private in public.’ I’ve whipped grunts for less, but I’d have to line up the whole damn guard against the wall!” They shared a laugh together. As if on cue, a grunt passing across the street recognized them and whistled a cat call. Grosha off-handedly gave him the finger. Braduk shook his head and clapped her on the back. “Well, shit. Safe travels Grosha.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “You stay safe too.” She hopped on her bike and gave him a backward glance. “I’ll know where to find you.”

* * *

She tore out of the Drag, scattering pedestrians. Engine barks shook the street. The city passed in a blur, abstract images in the corner of her eyes. She cleared the city gates. Ahead of her lay the vast expanse of Durotar, its red rocks and canyons. Razor-wind blew through her hair, hot as hell and twice as dry. She inhaled the desert air, staring up at the red sky, her knuckles white against the handlebars. The open road stretched into the heat-hazed horizon.

Freedom.

All she left behind was a trail of dust.