As last month was Orctober, on Big Stories, we tackled Thrall, whose attractive qualities still shine through despite Blizzard's best efforts. If you want to see what we've done with him right away, or check out our latest victim, you can see growth sequences like this every month, and lots of other stories and art, on Big Stories, located here: https://www.patreon.com/bigstories

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The Horde had changed, as had its first true Warchief, Thrall. Failure, it was said, was an excellent teacher, and if that was the case, Thrall felt he had his fill of education. The setbacks and failures of the Horde felt like his failures- it was his decision to give the mantle of Warchief to Garrosh Hellscream, and it was his decision not to interfere when Sylvanas nearly destroyed everything he had worked for, until others had to drag him back from his hiding place. Now, where he had once rested easy that others could lead, suddenly, he was the only left that the orcs were looking to. Even with his family in Orgrimmar, he was starting to feel very lonely. Still, the time to dwell was over- there was only one way left for the orcs, and that was forward. Thrall was a father now, and he would make sure whatever nation the orcs had would be better for his son, than the one he had founded years ago.

And if the orcs needed a strong leader to rebuild, Thrall could grit his teeth and be that leader. In his Shaman raiments once more, he humbled himself before the elements, desperate to regain their favor, and then, out in the wilds, he felt a spark burning inside him. Thrall stood to his full height- powerfully built, even for an orc, he tensed his thickly roped arms. His biceps rippled, and his chest swelled as he breathed in deeply. With his feet firmly planted in the ground once more, he could feel the power of the earth churning beneath him. Once, the orcs had been empowered with fel energy and demonic blood- but now, they would draw their strength once more from the ways of their ancestors. Thrall cracked his knuckles, and sparks of lightning danced between his fingertips. He grinned tightly to himself; he was ready to begin his new, great work.