To top off our Orctober offerings, Thrall is ready to move entire mountains, literally, if it means protecting the Horde- and maybe bringing WoW back from the brink, if he has the time.

You can always see growth sequences like this early on our Patreon for as low as $2- check out this month's sequence, Runar from FFXIV, early! https://www.patreon.com/bigstories

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The Horde had relied on many champions over the years, and Thrall had to wonder- is this how they felt? The same adventurers that had been with the Horde through the early years, going against the Scourge, the Burning Legion, the Sha, Garrosh's Iron Horde, and the Old Gods, is this exhilaration, the thrill of growing more powerful, feeling stronger all the time, was that the same sensation Thrall felt in his veins now?

He had done it- the Orcs had a leader to show them the way, again- and what an orc he had forged himself into. No tauren, ogre, dire troll, drogbar, or even the dragons were a match for the sheer, brute strength Thrall had attained. The spirits of the earth had made him into a walking mountain; every part of his body was massive. The earth shook from the power thundering in his massive, trunk-like legs, bulging, tear-shaped quads bristling with each swaggering step and heavy footfall. His core was as hard as metal, abdominals all but crafted into rows of thick, bloated bricks. His torso billowed out, wider than he was tall, engorged flanks shoving his arms further out, and framing a vast, green canyon of a chest, bloated pectoral muscles jutting out past his chin by a few feet. But what vast strength corded in his shoulders and arms- the sprawling range of his shoulder and neck muscles held up arms that were like cannons- heavy and forged with raw power. Biceps billowed, rising up like rolling hills as he shouldered a massive battle axe bigger than most Horde adventurers, and anvil-like triceps surged whenever his arms bent. Watching him lumber across Orgrimmar in no armor- what was the point, when his body was so masterfully built- many got a glance at the tapestry of swollen muscle of his back, a sprawling green valley that whittled down to thick, sculpted glutes, wrapped in the only furs and leather that could still fit the orc.

He may not be Warchief anymore, but with his vast strength, he knew that he had a certain responsibility, and not just as Overlord of the Orcs. Thrall would broker no threat to the Horde, not with his power now- he enjoyed the looks of awe and shock he garnered in the capital, serving as inspiration to the type of potential, and vast, untapped strength the Horde still possessed. He was a living example that nothing in Azeroth, not the Alliance, the Dragonflights, or whatever powers sought to cross the Horde in the future, could ever hope to overpower them again. And even if one day a new threat appeared, Thrall knew he wasn't done growing- there was being strong enough, but there was always stronger still.