Warcraft Little H Story

The story begins four years prior.

The Second War ended in utter defeat for the orcs, a bloody battle fought by the Alliance army composed of humans, dwarves, elves, and other races. With the Dark Portal destroyed, the defeated orcs couldn't even be sent back to their homeland, Draenor. To manage tens of thousands of orc prisoners, humans established numerous internment camps, the largest being Durnholde Keep. Here, orcs were imprisoned, enslaved, and some fared relatively better, being trained as gladiators to earn rewards from their masters through bloody combat.

Durnholde Keep, the arena.

"Great skill! I bet the orc wins, 50 silver coins!" On the sun-drenched open ground outside the walls of Durnholde Castle, a tightly packed crowd shouted. Below the walls was a square arena surrounded by walls, and the reason for the shouts was the two creatures fighting within—a raging adult Bloodfang Boar and an orc clad in leather armor wielding a sharp axe. The already enraged Bloodfang Boar had become even more furious after its previous attack failed, while the orc on the other side presented a stark contrast. He remained calmly in a defensive stance, half-bent over, holding his axe in one hand, blade down, his eyes fixed intently on his opponent a dozen paces away. As expected, the Bloodfang Boar roared again and charged towards the orc. The rumbling ground proved to the surrounding audience that this beast's attack was a desperate gamble. The orc, however, remained seemingly sluggish and motionless. Everyone thought that if this continued, the green-skinned creature would eventually be pierced through by the boar's sharp tusks. But at this critical moment, the orc, like a ghost, swooped down and crawled forward, forcing his way under the boar's front hooves. At the same time, he forcefully raised his axe. With the boar's momentum, the sharp axe blade sliced through the Bloodfang Boar from neck to waist, as if cutting through butter. The boar, now a corpse, continued to roll on the ground for several more feet before stopping, leaving a scarlet trail of flesh and entrails behind it. After a few seconds of stunned silence, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers. The bettor who had placed the bet earlier was now smugly pleased with his win. Such a scene was rare indeed. Having brought immense suffering to the various races of the Alliance, orcs were universally despised and hated in Azeroth. People avoided them, even seeking to exterminate them, let alone cheer for an orc like this. Logically, the victor should have been enjoying his unique reward, but his expression remained indifferent, oblivious to the noisy crowd around him. He silently walked towards his hut, his movements, demeanor, and even breathing appearing remarkably natural. If it weren't for the mangled boar carcass behind him reminding him of a life-or-death duel, everyone would have thought the orc was simply returning from a walk. However, the orc didn't notice a pair of large, curious, and excited brown eyes fixed on him in the noisy crowd. If he knew how much influence those eyes would later have on him, he would have paid much more attention.

"This is its 50th consecutive victory, and in its current state, that record will likely continue," Blackmore—the master of Durnholde Castle—said smugly, puffing on a cigar.

"That depends on who its opponents are, or rather, what kind of…things," said the naval officer opposite him, his dark green uniform and cap identifying him. "If you send it to cut down those mindless, charging beasts, I admit it's quite adept, but if you send it against the Alliance's elite soldiers…" The officer made no attempt to hide his contempt.

“Come on, man, you know I wouldn’t do that,” Blackmore interrupted the officer. “The battle between the Alliance and the Horde has just ended, and I don’t want to reignite people’s hatred. Besides, you know, this greenskin is special; it might be of some use to me.” Blackmore’s tone suggested the conversation was over, but neither of them expected that soon after, the officer’s plan would become a reality, and the outcome would far exceed their expectations.

“Why do you call him ‘it’?” asked the blonde girl who had been listening intently to their conversation.

“Oh, my dear,” the naval officer said, “you know, orcs are no different from beasts; they’re all simple-minded, muscle-bound animals, nothing more.”

“But I don’t think so, at least not about the orc you were talking about. I can sense in his eyes that he has thoughts, and you could even call him…intelligent!” the girl insisted.

These two men of considerable status certainly wouldn’t pay much attention to a girl’s opinion, but the girl’s innate sensitivity and judgment led her to the correct conclusion. This girl was none other than Jaina Proudmoore, the future renowned Alliance mage, and the naval officer was her father, the famous Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. Jaina was arguably the first human to attempt to understand the orcs and treat them as equals—both spiritually and physically.

Midnight in Southshore.

It was an early summer evening. After the inn's bar closed, the townspeople, still somewhat sluggish, staggered back to their lodgings in the slightly sweltering breeze. After the clinking of dishes and cups as the waiters cleared the room, the inn returned to its quietude, until the first rays of sunlight broke through the silence.

But this time, the tranquility didn't last long. The inn's back door opened quietly, and a figure swiftly slipped out, then the door closed silently again. A cloaked figure left the inn silently and swiftly, crossing the lush meadows of Hillsbrad Foothills and arriving at Durnholde Castle to the north. Because her face was obscured by a cloak, the newcomer's features were indistinguishable, but her figure and gait suggested a slender, tall woman. Under the cover of darkness, she swiftly approached the city wall and nimbly climbed a tree nearby, in a well-hidden location. Her fluid and efficient movements indicated this was no ordinary feat. The dense foliage instantly blended her into the canopy, making her virtually undetectable as long as she remained motionless.

If someone were to knock on the door of the single room on the second floor of the Southshore Inn, closest to the end of the corridor, they would find it empty. The guest was a young woman registered under the name Jennifer June—a false name for someone seeking to conceal their identity. The innkeeper and other guests would be utterly baffled as to why this young woman was none other than Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of a renowned admiral, who, at this hour—when she should have been peacefully asleep—was lying prone in a tree several miles from the inn.

Jaina was intently observing the orcs imprisoned within the castle. Her willingness to brave the loneliness, cold, and lurking dangers of the night for days to observe them was entirely driven by her curiosity and thirst for exploration. These green-skinned creatures, disgusting and terrifying to most, seemed to possess an extraordinary allure for Jaina. Admittedly, they appeared ugly and crude, yet they exuded a primal, wild charm that ignited an unprecedented excitement in the young woman. Although the orcs' dwellings smelled foul, comparable to a cattle pen or horse stable, to Jaina, this odor held an inexplicable allure, a desire to immerse herself in it. If others knew of these thoughts, they would surely see her as an outsider, even a traitor, so she could only keep these feelings deeply hidden within her heart.

However, through her observations over this period, Jaina noticed that the orcs here seemed lethargic, moving slowly with vacant eyes. Their listless spirits contrasted sharply with their rugged and wild appearances, making it impossible to associate them with bloodlust and killing. Except for one orc named "Thrall." Although his behavior seemed no different from the other orcs, his eyes—bright and piercing, revealing courage and determination, and occasionally showing a look of confusion that seemed to stem from contemplation—made Jaina have no doubt that he possessed hidden wisdom. This was also the view she had expressed to her father and Blackmore earlier in the arena. As Jaina recalled Thrall's unusual appearance, the door of a shed opened, and the orc named Thrall emerged. He was shirtless, with a dirty linen scarf draped over his shoulders and leather shorts on his lower body. He went straight to the well in the center of the clearing surrounded by sheds, drew a bucket of water from it, washed his hair with the water in his hands, and then used the scarf to dry his upper body. The water flowed over his muscular frame, revealing immense power within him. His body gleamed in the moonlight, and Jaina stared intently at the orc's powerful physique, feeling its wild strength and beauty. A strange excitement quietly gathered within her, a excitement that made her feel numb all over, her limbs convulsing uncontrollably. With a "crack," the branch beneath her snapped, and she fell to the ground unprepared. Jaina mustered all her courage to stifle the scream that was already on the tip of her tongue, but the soft soil beneath the tree protected her from injury.

This unexpected incident made Jaina decide to end her spying for the night. Just as she got up, brushed the dirt off herself, and prepared to leave, a voice came from behind her: "Who's there? What are you doing?" Jaina turned around and saw a soldier in armor standing under the tree, looking at her. At his feet were a helmet and a short sword, and the medals on his chest indicated that he was a sergeant major. “Uh, I’m so sorry, sir, I’m sorry to bother you. I just… uh, I was just wandering around here. I’ll be right back. I apologize again.”

After confirming that the other person was alone and a young woman, the sergeant major’s tense nerves relaxed, and he even began to feel a sense of joy. His name was Iglov, and he was responsible for guarding Durnholde Castle. Tonight, it was his turn for night patrol. However, given the current state of his guard, Iglov felt that a tight guard was unnecessary. After assigning his men the same routine patrol duties, he found a place to take a nap. He chose this tree for the same reason Jaina had, and so the two met under it.

The long hours of guard duty left the sergeant major with few opportunities to be with women, and his boundless energy often left him feeling stifled. At this very moment, in the desolate wilderness at night, a beautiful young girl inexplicably fell from a tree. He felt it was a gift from heaven. Even more wonderful was that the girl only apologized profusely, completely unaware of the dangers she, as a young woman, might face alone in the wilderness at night encountering an adult man.

Faced with the girl's flustered apologies, the sergeant realized the situation was completely under his control. He said, "Oh, my dear, you don't need to apologize at all. I feel incredibly lucky to have you here, and in a few moments, I'll be the one apologizing. But I can assure you one thing: if you cooperate enough, we'll both feel very comfortable!" Seeing the girl's confused look after hearing this, the sergeant was certain she was a virgin, and very likely a maiden! "It seems I have no choice but to explain this to you with actions!" With that, the sergeant, his face beaming with excitement, pounced on the girl before him. Jaina, completely unprepared for the sudden attack, was tackled to the ground before she could react. Her cloak instantly transformed into a mat, and the thin dress beneath it made the subsequent process remarkably easy. With a "rip," the dress instantly turned into two tattered pieces scattered on the grass on either side of the girl, her naked body appearing exceptionally radiant in the moonlight. To prevent his "prey" from escaping, the sergeant straddled the girl's legs and did the same to himself, quickly and deftly removing his own clothes. The fact that he could skillfully remove his own trousers while straddling the girl showed his considerable skill; it seemed this wasn't his first time doing this.

No time to admire the beautiful body beneath him, the sergeant leaned down and kissed the girl's lips. One hand kneaded her breasts, which, though not fully developed, were already beginning to take shape, while the other hand moved down her chest and abdomen, passing through the sparse pubic hair to her legs, where his rough fingers rubbed the small fleshy clitoris above her labia. The inexperienced Jaina was completely bewildered by this series of events. Her lips were tightly sucked, making it hard to breathe; the strong smell of tobacco and bad breath made her feel nauseous, and the intense stimulation from her chest and lower body caused her unbearable pain. But within this pain, a pleasure gradually emerged, a pleasure very similar to the one she had felt when she spied on orcs bathing. Jaina didn't realize this was lust, but lust had already quietly taken control of her.

After teasing the girl's lips, breasts, and clitoris simultaneously for a period of time, the sergeant knew that the girl beneath him had lost the strength to resist, and even given up the will to resist; the sticky fluid on the hand that had been teasing her clitoris fully proved this. He stood up and stepped back, spreading the girl's legs apart with his hands, hooking her knees, and placing her pair of plump, beautiful legs on his shoulders. His hands rubbed her thighs and calves repeatedly, feeling the smoothness and tenderness of her skin. If the sergeant had paid more attention to the only covering on the girl's body at this moment—the pair of exquisite cloth shoes on her feet—he would have noticed that they were embroidered with the anchor-shaped insignia of the Kul Tiras Navy and the emblem of the Proudmoore family, indicating the owner's extraordinary status. However, the dark night and his rising lust made the sergeant completely ignore these details. Then, the shoes were ruthlessly removed and thrown one by one into the bushes beside the girl.

Finally, after caressing and kneading the girl's legs, the sergeant's rough hands reached the already very moist valley between her legs. The pink labia and tightly closed vaginal opening indicated that this place had never been visited. Knowing that his penis would be the first "guest" to enter this alluring cave, our sergeant was incredibly excited. He held his rock-hard penis, pressing the engorged glans between the two tender labia.

Although Jaina was inexperienced, she had a vague understanding of "that thing" between men and women from the snippets of conversation among others. Combined with the hot and hard touch from below, she finally understood what the man on top of her was going to do and what fate awaited her. She began to struggle, but the sergeant, his gun already loaded and the gun in the barrel, wouldn't allow any trouble. His hands, like the pincers of a killer crab, firmly gripped the girl's round buttocks from either side of her slender waist. His voice trembled with extreme excitement: "Come on, my darling, look at my face, feel my flesh, I'm the one who took your virginity, my name is Ego..."

Just as the sergeant was about to introduce himself, his swollen penis about to thrust into the girl's tender orifice, a muffled thud came from behind him. The sergeant's body stiffened, his words and movements abruptly ceasing. Then, his body collapsed forward like a tattered sack of rice, landing on top of Jaina. The stones that fell onto the nearby grass at the same time as the sergeant fell explained the reason for his unconsciousness. Jaina could feel the man on top of her still had a heartbeat and a faint breath, indicating he had only been knocked unconscious. His penis, though still in contact with her sensitive areas, had completely lost its previous power, becoming limp and offering no indication of its potential penetration.

Faced with this sudden "cessation," Jaina's astonishment and surprise were no less than those of the "beginning" just minutes earlier. She forcefully pushed the naked man off her and found herself standing about ten yards in front of her, behind the sergeant major. By the moonlight, she recognized him as her observation subject—the orc named Thrall. Jaina rubbed her eyes in disbelief, feeling utterly incredulous. He had been bathing in the internment camp just fifteen minutes ago, and now he stood before her, as if the towering walls and layers of guards of Durnholde Castle had vanished.

For an ordinary woman, she wouldn't feel any better than before. After all, facing an orc alone at night is far more dangerous than facing a human, even if that human has almost crossed the line of morality. But Jaina was different. Her strong interest in orcs had already made her feel a certain degree of goodwill towards them, especially this orc in front of her, who was even more extraordinary. And now it was this orc who had saved her, so Jaina was certain that he wouldn't harm her.

"You saved me? How did you get out? If you could get out, why didn't you run away?" Faced with Jaina's barrage of questions, the orc was clearly a little surprised. He answered in a Universal Language that sounded slightly awkward to humans but was incredibly fluent from an orc's perspective: "Uh, ma'am, before I answer your questions, could you please put on some clothes, or at least cover yourself up a bit?" At this moment, Jaina realized that she was still naked. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly bent down to look for clothes, only to find two tattered pieces of cloth that had once been her dress. Fortunately, the cloak spread on the ground was still intact. Jaina picked it up and wrapped it around herself, the rough fabric and the dirt and bits of grass clinging to it making her itchy all over. To her surprise, while she was doing this, the orc in front of her deliberately turned his head away, only turning back when she was finished. This almost gentlemanly behavior increased Jaina's liking for him even more, and also made her more convinced that the idea that orcs were all barbaric and bloodthirsty was completely wrong. The orc before her was a hundred times better than the naked boar man lying on the ground.

“If you consider my actions to be a rescue rather than an disturbance, then yes, I saved you,” the orc said. “This man is called Iglov, a guard here. I spared his life because he hasn’t done anything too bad and even taught me a few sword moves. Besides, if a guard were to mysteriously disappear, it would definitely not be good news for us. He will wake up soon and return to the camp before dawn, before the night patrols finish their shift. Given his condition when he woke up and the dishonorable thing he did earlier, he will definitely keep quiet about what happened tonight.” Listening to the orc’s calm, clear, and logical words, Jaina was utterly astonished. She was now certain that this orc before her was mentally no different from a human, and even possessed intelligence and strategy. “As for how I escaped,” the orc continued, “did you humans think this ‘castle’ you speak of could hold me?” He glanced disdainfully at Durnholde. “The walls here are like sheepfolds to me. I can go wherever I want, humans, as long as you show up here for headcount every morning.” Jaina had no doubt about the orc’s words; his fierce performance in the arena and his precise long-range stone throw just now strongly corroborated his claims.

“Then why didn’t you just run away? Why did you come back?” Jaina asked. “Before answering that question, lady, I want to ask you a question,” Thrall said. “Why do you climb the trees near the castle to spy on us at almost the same time every night? If I’m not mistaken, this is the fifth day, including today.” “You…you know everything?” Jaina said in surprise. She thought her actions were very discreet, but this orc knew everything. Jaina felt ashamed, like a child who had made a mistake. “When you observe others, others are also observing you; that’s what our ancestors told us. So, human, you haven’t answered my question yet,” Thrall continued. “Actually, there’s no particular reason. I’m just very curious about you orcs, and I want to observe you as closely as possible, to understand you. I don’t think you’re just savage, bloodthirsty beasts as others say, and today’s conversation with you has only strengthened my belief,” Jaina said. She was utterly impressed by the orc’s perception, judgment, and insight, feeling that any attempt to conceal anything from him would be futile.

Hearing Jaina’s words, it was Thrall’s turn to be surprised. This woman had risked all sorts of dangers at night for several days, coming alone to this extremely unpleasant place, simply because of her curiosity? At first, Thrall thought she was an assassin or a spy, but seeing her demeanor and skills, and the “incident” that had just occurred, completely dispelled that idea. If her actions were merely driven by curiosity, then what an intense curiosity it was! In Thrall's experience, humans generally viewed orcs with disgust and contempt, with some even suggesting the extermination of all orcs. This human girl's intense curiosity about orcs could be interpreted as attraction. This piqued Thrall's interest in her; clearly, her attitude towards orcs differed significantly from, if not drastically, from that of other humans.

"So, what have you observed over the past few days?" Thrall asked. "I find you all, well, somewhat unexpectedly quiet, even a little... listless, except for you, of course," Jaina carefully chose her words, avoiding any hint of disdain. “As you can see,” Thrall replied, “that’s why I keep leaving and returning. After the battle, my people underwent inexplicable changes; they became sluggish and dull-witted, as if aging rapidly at a visible pace. I tried to find out the cause of all this and free them from this state as soon as possible. This loss of mind is far more terrible than imprisonment; it makes us lose hope! I will not leave until I find the cause and a way to save my people.”

Thrall’s words deeply moved Jaina. This young orc—even the youngest among them—beared such responsibility and mission. Clearly, he was not doing this at the request of others, but out of his bond and concern for his people. He was willing to risk his life for them and give up his own readily available freedom. Humans, who can so readily betray faith and morality for their own selfish gain, even turning against their own kind, arrogantly call themselves a civilized race. For the first time, Jaina felt the ignorance and hypocrisy of humanity… Trying to bring her thoughts back to the present, Jaina could tell from Thrall's furrowed brow that his investigation wasn't going well. It was easy to imagine that if people saw an orc in broad daylight, their first reaction would be to lock him up in an internment camp. Expecting Thrall to ask questions like a seeker of knowledge was impossible. His only chance was to lurk in crowded places like taverns and overhear a few words undetected—and then he would be even more disappointed. Jaina bet Thrall's only gain was a few drinking games and bawdy jokes.

“I’m willing to help you,” Jaina answered without hesitation. Facing Thrall’s wide-eyed expression, she continued, “You are my savior… uh… my savior, and I sincerely admire your noble purpose and heroic act of saving your people. However, what you’re doing is too dangerous, and it’s clearly not going to work. I have a library card for the Stormwind Royal Library and am a regular there; the books there are all-encompassing. I think I’ll find something useful.” Hearing Jaina’s suggestion, Thrall fell into thought. Was this truly an opportunity, or—a trap? Had he already revealed his secrets to this human woman he had just met, and was now entrusting the fate of his people to her? Was he being too reckless? Thrall had no time to think and quickly responded, “Then, lady, if you can indeed find some useful information, you will be a benefactor to me and my people. I will be eternally grateful and loyal to you. Of course, your intention to help me is already a great favor to me.” Thrall ultimately chose to believe her; an instinctive intuition told him he should do so, and many things seemed predestined. “Take this,” Thrall handed Jaina a simple-looking but well-made bamboo whistle. “When you blow it, it will produce a sound like a nightingale, and only I can distinguish the subtle differences between it and the call of a real nightingale. When you find something, come back here and use it to contact me. I must go now. Good luck, and good luck to me and my people! Oh, and before you go, don’t forget to clean up the ground and don’t leave any clues.” At the same time, Thrall glanced at the tattered cloth that had once been his dress on the ground and two shoes in the distance. Jaina's cheeks flushed again. As she bent down to pick up the rags and put her shoes back on, Thrall had already nimbly and silently scaled the city wall. It was hard to imagine such a massive body moving with such agility. Thrall intentionally didn't ask her name; given the current tense situation, knowing her name would only be detrimental if things were exposed. Thrall wasn't afraid of the torture in the prison, but he couldn't control what he might say in his sleep. After Jaina finished packing and quickly left for Southshore, everything returned to calm, leaving only Sergeant Igrove lying naked, quietly enjoying the cool summer night breeze alone.

[The End]

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