For the Horde!

Rhok'zan panted heavily, her body still quivering with the aftershocks of their intense coupling.She could feel Garrosh's seed oozing out from her stretched cunt, a warm, thick fluid that seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart.

Her desire for more only intensified as she gazed up at him, her four emerald eyes gleaming with unbridled need. 

But before she could voice her longing, Garrosh pulled her close once more, his mouth claiming hers in a deep, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, coating it with the intoxicating flavor of his saliva. Rhok'zan moaned into the kiss, feeling herself getting drunk on his essence even as she tasted the lingering tang of their shared climax.

As they broke apart for air, Garrosh stepped back and pointed to his still-hard cock with a commanding gesture.

"Clean me," he growled low in his throat.

Rhok'zan eagerly complied, her eyes never leaving Garrosh's as she leaned down and took his cock into her mouth once more. Her tongue swirled around the tip, tasting the mix of their juices, savoring the musky, salty flavor that filled her senses. 

She licked him clean with long, slow strokes, ensuring not a drop was wasted. The act of submission thrilled her, making her own arousal spike once more. When he was clean, she looked up at him with a sultry gaze, her eyes half-lidded with desire.

"I want you again, my love," she murmured, her voice thick with lust.

Garrosh chuckled darkly, his hand reaching down to stroke her wet fur. 

"Greedy, aren't we?"

"Always for you," Rhok'zan purred, her tail flicking back and forth in excitement.

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, their bodies pressing together in a fiery embrace. He then place his arms under her legs and locking behind her neck as he once again thrust into her pussy placing Rhok'zan in a full nelson position.

Garrosh lifted Rhok'zan into the air with ease, holding her in a full nelson position, her legs draped over his broad shoulders. Her pussy was slick with need, and she moaned in pleasure as he buried his cock deep inside her once more.

He began to move, his powerful thrusts sending waves of pleasure through her body, her breasts bouncing with each impact. The water sloshed around them, carrying the sounds of their lovemaking across the still lake. Rhok'zan's eyes rolled back in her head, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream as Garrosh's cock hit her g-spot with every plunge. His grunts of effort and satisfaction melded with her cries. 

"More, Garrosh! Give me more of that thick orc cock!" Rhok'zan cried out, her voice raw with need as she gazed up at him with eyes blazing with lust.

Garrosh chuckled darkly, his massive hands kept her in place as he thrust back into her soaked cunt with brutal force. 

"You want it hard, don't you, little goat? You want me to pound this tight pussy until you scream for mercy?"

Rhok'zan moaned, her head leaned back as he hit a particularly deep spot inside her. 

"Yes, yes, please! Fuckme like the filthy little whore I am!" Garrosh snarled, his eyes flashing with primal hunger. 

"You love being my slut, don't you? Begging for my cock like a bitch in heat."

"I live for it, Garrosh!" 

Rhok'zan's body tightened around Garrosh's cock as she felt her orgasm approaching. With a high-pitched squeal, she squirts her juices all over him, the warmth of her release mixing with the coolness of the water. 

Her muscles clamped down on his shaft, sending spasms of pleasure through his entire being. Garrosh's eyes narrowed in determination, his strokes becoming more fervent as he chased his own climax.

"You're going to milk me dry, aren't you?" he grunted, his voice deep and gruff with passion.

"Yes, every last drop!" Rhok'zan responded, her voice a breathless whisper as she tightened her legs around his neck.

Her walls clamped down around him, her juices coating him, as he plunged into her again and again. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the pressure building within him like a volcano ready to erupt. With a final roar of triumph, he released his load deep within her, filling her wombs to the brim with his thick, potent seed.

Their combined release sent shockwaves through the water, creating a momentary whirlpool around them. As they both came down from their peak, Garrosh held her tightly, his cock still buried deep within her quivering pussy.

They stayed like that for a few moments, their ragged breaths mingling in the night air, their hearts pounding in time with each other's.

Finally, Garrosh pulled out, his cock glistening with their combined juices. He placed Rhok'zan down gently, and she leaned into him, her legs shaking slightly from the intensity of their lovemaking. They stood there, chests heaving, bodies slick with water and sweat, staring into each other's eyes. The bond between them had grown stronger with every passing second, their shared desire for power and dominance only fueling the fire of their passion.

"I can't get enough of you," Garrosh murmured, his hand stroking her wet fur in gentle circles.

"And I can never get enough of your power," Rhok'zan replied, a sly smile playing on her lips. 

============

It was a normal day for the Free Folk or Wildings who lived in the northern region of Westeros beyond the walls. Free Free folk are split into countless cultures, tribes, 

clans, villages, and raiding parties, some reasonably cultured, others savage and hostile. Children were running around, men were butchering their freshly hunted prey and women tended to cook. 

"Mother look." A boy noticed from a distance that there was a person marching towards them riding a wolf. This causes everyone to suddenly take action where men take their swords and spear ready to fight who or whatever the creature may be. 

"Everyone stepped back. We will handle this. Women and children hide in safe places." Their king stepped forward. He was a charismatic, calm, and determined man with strong leadership qualities. He was a slender man and of middling height, but broader in the chest and shoulders. 

He wore wool and leather, over which he draped a slashed cloak of black wool and red silk. He armors himself with black ringmail and shaggy fur breeches. He had a helm that was bronze and iron and had raven wings at each temple. This man was Mance Rayder.

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He remained calm yet instinctively felt fear as he saw the number of wolf riders heading their way. It didn't take long for him to gain a better look of their appearance. 

They were massive men adorned in thick iron armor who could only be afforded by the wealthiest men yet everyone wore it. They were fur woven into her armor and skulls as trophies. In their back seems to be an iron bag who's function was unknown to Mance.

'They shouldn't be the kneelers. Then what are they?' His eyes locked into the one leading them. They were close enough for him to see their faces. 

The leader was a woman, made it obvious due to the chest plate however what set her apart was that she was larger than the rest of the men that followed her. She exudes barbaric wildness that could only be found in the free folk. 

Eventually they were close enough for him to see the creatures were larger than normal wolves and amazingly able to carry the huge humanoid creature. 

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He was now face to face with their leader able to discern their face having braided side locks and bangs that swept to the side while tied in ponytail. She has a scar across her right eye and watched her brandish her axe. 

"Everyone they are going to attack! Get ready!" Mance knew this is going to be one sided and he will die but won't back down for a fight. On the other hand, the leaders suddenly gave a thundering shout.

"Kill all the men! Do not harm the woman and children! For the Horde!" This words cause every single one of her men to shout.

"For the Horde!" They followed their leader who was Lyrana Russ, the Primarch of Space Wolves Legion and having been genetically engineed by the aliens that Garrosh had made. Her growth were accelerated and stopped growing after reaching her prime alongside her siblings. 

Unlike her male counter part, every single primarch were a lot more "Human" and acted like a family. There won't ever be a Horus heresy ever happening. 

"The primitive weaponry of wooden spears, iron swords, and bows proved utterly ineffective against the advanced armor of the Space Wolves. The towering warriors moved with terrifying precision and brutality, their power axes humming with deadly energy as they cleaved through the Free Folk with ease. 

A Power Axe is a Power Weapon taking the form of a single or double-edged battle axe. Power Axes vary in length and design, and have been known to be crafted from one of any number of different materials, though usually Adamantium. 

As with all Power Weapons, when its power field is activated, usually by operating a control located on the hilt, the blade is sheathed in a lethal corona of disruptive energy. 

This energy field allows the blade to carve through flesh, bone and most forms of armour plate alike, making a Power Axe a highly effective close combat weapon. Their Power Armor were thick causing the free folk's weapon to break and shatters. 

The battlefield was chaos. Screams of men echoed through the air, drowned by the roar of the wolves and the bloodthirsty battle cries of the Space Wolves. 

Lyrana Russ led the charge, her massive axe splitting through armor and flesh alike as though they were paper. Each swing of her weapon left devastation in its wake, her strength and speed unmatched by anything the Free Folk had ever faced. 

Mance Rayder fought valiantly, standing his ground against the towering invaders. His blade met Lyrana's axe, but the clash was futile. The sheer force of her strike shattered his sword and sent him sprawling to the ground. 

"Your courage is commendable," Lyrana said, her voice deep and commanding, with a hint of respect. 

"But it will not save you." Mance looked up, defiance blazing in his eyes even as he bled. 

"We are free folk! We kneel to no one!" 

Lyrana snorted, unimpressed. She turned her attention to the rest of her warriors, who were systematically cutting through the Free Folk. Her wolves tore into their prey with savage efficiency, their jaws crushing bone and ripping apart flesh. 

Amidst the carnage, the Space Wolves showed restraint toward the women and children, corralling them into a secure area as ordered. Some of the women screamed and fought back, but the Space Wolves did not retaliate. They were brutal but disciplined, carrying out their leader's commands. 

The chaos and carnage continued as some of the Space Wolves dismounted from their enormous lupine steeds, each warrior standing like a living mountain of steel and fury. Their howls echoed across the icy plains, a chilling prelude to the massacre that followed. 

A group of Free Folk men, armed with crude weapons—axes, spears, and swords—charged toward the dismounted Space Wolves with desperate roars. The towering warriors met their charge with grim efficiency, their massive frames moving with speed that defied their size. 

One Free Folk warrior lunged at a Space Wolf, his axe aimed for the warrior's neck. The Space Wolf sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the man by the throat with one massive gauntlet. 

The Free Folk's eyes widened in terror as the Space Wolf snarled, revealing elongated, wolf-like canines. Without hesitation, the warrior sank his teeth into the man's neck, tearing through flesh and sinew as blood sprayed across the snow. The lifeless body dropped to the ground, and the Space Wolf licked the crimson from his lips before turning to the next unfortunate foe. 

Another Space Wolf swung his humming power axe in a wide arc, cleaving through three Free Folk men at once. The blade's energy field vaporized flesh and bone on contact, leaving only charred remains in its wake. Despite their advanced weaponry, the Space Wolves reveled in the primal savagery of close combat, their bloodlust ignited by the scent of fear and death in the air. 

One of the Free Folk, a burly man wielding a spear, managed to jab his weapon at a Space Wolf's chest. The wooden spear splintered harmlessly against the advanced armor, and the Space Wolf laughed—a guttural, menacing sound. He lunged forward, catching the man by the arm and wrenching him off his feet. With a feral growl, the warrior sank his jaws into the man's throat, ripping it open in a shower of blood. 

The wolves themselves were no less savage. One of the massive beasts tackled a Free Folk warrior to the ground, its powerful jaws crushing his skull with a sickening crunch. Another wolf prowled the battlefield, its glowing eyes locked on its prey. It pounced on a fleeing man, tearing him apart with merciless efficiency. 

A group of Free Folk men managed to surround a dismounted Space Wolf, thrusting spears at him from all sides. The warrior roared, catching one of the spears mid-thrust and snapping it in two. He spun his axe in a deadly arc, severing limbs and spilling entrails as he tore through his attackers. 

Blood soaked the snow, the screams of the dying blending with the triumphant howls of the Space Wolves. Those who dared to stand against the monstrous warriors were butchered or devoured, their flesh consumed by the wolf-blooded giants as they reveled in their dominance. 

At the center of the chaos, Lyrana Russ stood watching with a cold, calculating gaze. Her bloodied armor gleamed in the pale northern light as her warriors carried out her orders with brutal precision. She gripped her massive axe, her presence alone enough to crush any remaining resistance. 

The massacre continued until no Free Folk man remained standing. The snow was stained red, the air heavy with the stench of death. The women and children, spared by Garrosh's decree, huddled in silence, their eyes wide with terror and despair. The Space Wolves roared once more, their victory absolute, their savagery unmatched.

Within minutes, the battle was over. The ground was littered with the bodies of Free Folk warriors, their blood soaking into the snow. The women and children huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as they watched the monstrous warriors surround them. 

Lyrana approached Mance, who was barely conscious but still alive. She knelt down, gripping him by the front of his cloak and lifting him effortlessly. 

"Your courage is commendable," Lyrana said, her voice deep and commanding, with a hint of respect. 

"But it will not save you." 

Mance looked up, defiance blazing in his eyes even as he bled. 

"We are Free Folk! We kneel to no one!" 

Lyrana snorted, unimpressed. She leaned closer, her sharp, wolf-like eyes boring into his. 

"Your pride is admirable, but pride without strength is meaningless." 

Mance's hands trembled as he reached for a nearby broken spear, gripping it tightly as he tried to strike at her. Lyrana easily caught the crude weapon, snapping it in two with her bare hands. 

"You've made your choice, then," she said coldly. With a swift, brutal motion, she raised her axe and brought it down, cleaving Mance's body in half. 

The Free Folk gasped and screamed as their king fell, his blood pooling in the snow. Lyrana wiped the blade of her axe on his cloak, her expression unreadable. 

"Let this be a lesson to all who would oppose the Horde," she declared, her voice booming across the battlefield. 

Turning to her warriors, she gave the final order.

"Round up the women and children. The rest are of no use to us." 

"For the Horde!" The Space Wolves roared, their voices echoing through the frozen wilderness as they continued their grim work. 

Lyrana stood over Mance's lifeless body, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Your defiance will not be forgotten," she muttered under her breath, almost as if in a twisted form of respect, before mounting her wolf and riding off to oversee the aftermath.