Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Shattered	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 8001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter Fifteen – Ebon Knight Foster Conway
Two weeks into their trek to Stormwind, it became obvious that they would need more supplies than they were finding off the land. The nights were colder than one cloak could keep warm. Even sleeping in hollowed out tree-trunks didn’t keep the cold out. The only positive to their adventure, was Nathaniel was filling out once again. They kept him active scouting for food and foes. Though every request had to be asked, the elf followed them without question. And he had done well foraging for food, hunger was not a concern. Now that their travels had brought them past the forest of the Hinterlands into the plains of Arathi Highlands, shelter was harder to come by.
“I feel like a rabbit,” Sara said, she was busy making a small hollow into some brush. When it came time to sleep, they would curl up inside with Foster and his armor on the outside to shield them the best he could.
“Look like one too,” Foster said, gesturing to the pair of rabbit skin moccasins she had made, “just missing a tail.”
Nathaniel came into the clearing, and to Foster’s disappointment, empty-handed. “Dinner hard to come by, Little Brother?” he asked.
The elf shook his head and Foster frowned. He hated this game but by now knew how it was played. “Speak,” he said, allowing his voice to become forceful.
“Homestead over the far hill,” Nathaniel said softly, his hand working his tunic hem. “They have laborers toiling in the fields, afraid of being seen.”
Sara sighed. “No fire tonight then and it is getting so cold.”
“Well,” Foster said reaching into his pack. “At least we won’t go hungry, have some berries and nuts that we found earlier.” He gave Sara the small bags. “Eat,” he said, “I’ll return in a bit.”
His sister made a move to talk but wisely closed her mouth and motioned for Nathaniel to sit down. As she started to hand feed him their meager dinner Foster walked off to the side and chanted, a death gate appeared and through it stepped Knight.
“Brother?” Sara asked.
“I’ll be back,’ he repeated as he swung up on the saddle. “We need supplies and I need …” he frowned and shook his head. They both knew what he needed but he would not voice it aloud.
“Should we be ready to move when you return?” she asked.
“Nay,” he said, “I’ll do it far from here and circle around, and if they have the courage to chase it will be in the wrong direction. I won’t be back before dark, try to get some sleep.”
“What if you aren’t here in the morning?” Sara asked.
Foster frowned. “I will be …”
“But if you’re not …” Sara’s voice waivered, “I can’t do this on my own.”
Dismounting he stepped over and picked her up in his arms, hugging her tight. “You can if you had to, but you won’t … I’ll be here.”
Sara returned the embrace; his cool touch no longer startled her. “All right,” she said sitting back down beside Nathaniel, “see you in the morning, Big Brother.”
Foster rode away from camp, circling far to the east around the homestead Nathaniel had reported.   As he galloped he couldn’t help but think of the year he spent in these lands as a slave, forced to fight for survival … and father his one and only child, a son he’d never met. And of course thoughts of the son, led to the mother … the orc maiden, Nignath. The first woman he ever laid with. Cursing he chased the thoughts from his head, though appreciating for a brief moment they were his own and not the hatred filled whispers of the Lich King. The thought of his old master caused him to frown, the Highlord was not going to happy with is apparent desertion.   His fellow Ebon Knights had one purpose in this world; now that their minds were free, to bring justice to the Lich King. However, Foster had a more pressing matter, one that had been entrenched into since he was a child, protect his family. Once they were safe then he could focus on the need for revenge.
It had been a decade but he remembered the land well, and after a few hours came insight of the ruins of Stromgarde. The once proud city had been overrun by ogres and bandits. The perfect targets for his dark intentions, they would not be missed. Riding in the front gate, or what little of it that still hung, he rode purposely toward the Keep. The first welcomed challenge came quickly, as a small group separated themselves from the wall.
“Well, what do we have here?” the smaller male said, “I ain’t never seen a warlock horse quite like this one …”
“Are you an idiot or just stupid, Jake?” the female hissed, “When have you seen a warlock in armor before … he ain’t no warlock …” she looked up at him, her robes marked her as a caster of sorts but Foster had little concern of her abilities.
“Eh regardless who or what he is,” said the third and final mark, “if he be wanting into Stromgarde he’ll have to pay the toll. See this be our street and if ye want to be walking on it …” He let out a strangled grasp as Foster’s dark powers robbed him from the ability to speak.
“Watch out!” the woman warned as she cast a fireball toward him, Foster didn’t even try to block it, letting it hit against his armor, with a hiss of steam. They were already dead; they just didn’t know it yet. The ground they stood on withered and died. The man in his grip let out another strangled cry, Foster shuddered with yearning. The men would suffer slow deaths to feed his unholy hunger however the woman died quickly to his blade. Keeping Jake bound in frost chains, Foster focused on the larger man. Already his skin had started to turn black due to the frost fever spreading through him. The man cursed him, but was unable to break the dark magic that bound him. Through pestilence, the plague spread to Jake and the man screamed in panic.   Foster hoped his cry would bring more. The first man quickly became a dried up husk and Foster dropped the corpse turning his attention to the final human. His eyes glowed as his mark started blabbering and losing control of his bowels. Foster wrinkled his nose at the odor wishing for a moment undeath had robbed him of the ability to smell.
“Jake is it?” Foster said, approaching, taking his blade from his back.
“Please,” the man begged, “we didn’t mean nothing by it … we was just having some fun you didn’t have to go killing Molly and Hank.”
Foster grabbed the man by is neck lifting him up. “You want to know what I am?” he said, “I’m death …” He buried the sword in the man’s stomach and tightened his grip crushing bones. Dropping the corpse on the ground he took a step back and felt the internal damnation sedated once more. On the hillside a small group had gathered, he looked toward them.
“I need supplies, I can pay for them or I can gut your homes and bodies and take them, your choice.”
A short time later he left Stromgarde with two backpacks filled with clothing, bedding and a few other essentials. Though unconcerned with being followed he rode in the opposite direction of where he left Nathaniel and Sara, after an hour he dismounted and summoned another Death Gate, switching to the bone griffon he took to the dark skies and flew directly back to his family. There would be no tracks to follow.
He landed in the clearing and was surprised to find Nathaniel sitting outside the hovel. “You should be sleeping,” he chided. His brother played with the hem of his shirt; in the weeks of their travel he had worn the edge out with his worrying.   Frowning Foster changed his tactic, “What do you want?” he said as he summoned a final gate and sent the griffon through it.
“I pee …” the elf’s voice trailed off.
“Did you soil yourself again?” Foster sighed; it wouldn’t be the first time the elf had held it until he couldn’t anymore, because no one had told him to piss.
Nathaniel shook his head and Foster realized he was asking permission. “Well, that’s an improvement. Go ahead … how long have you been sitting here?” Foster touched the elf’s cheek it was chilled.
The elf shrugged as he stepped out of camp, still within sight he did his business and came back. Foster took out a heavy cloak and wrapped it around the elf’s shoulders and helped him crawl back inside, the small sleeping area. He was glad to see Sara still slept, and she let out a sigh as Nathaniel’s body snuggled against hers. Foster was tired, but the closeness of the homestead, it would be foolish to not leave a sentry.    He gave his sister another hour before gently awakening her.
“Sorry, Sis,” he whispered over the sleeping elf. “Can you take a watch? I’m dead tired …” he smirked at the irony.
“Of course,” Sara said, slipping over Nathaniel and out, she welcomed the warmer cloak Foster offered her and eyed the two backpacks he had. “Do I want to know how?” she asked, taking a sword still in its scabbard that had been tied to one of the packs. This she wrapped around her waist. “Feels good to have steel again …”
“I bet Mama hated you following in our footsteps,” Foster said as he slipped his own sword off his back and laid it outside the crawlspace. He set his helm beside it, as always the rest of his armor remained on.
“Nah,” Sara said taking a seat nearby. “She wasn’t too happy with Pa though, assumed he’d been teaching me. Boy was she surprised to find out I had done it on my own, after we lost you I just couldn’t stand idle … you know? I didn’t want to become a damsel in distress and ended up one anyway.” She shook her long curly tresses and smiled. “Get some rest, Big Brother,” she said, “I’ll awake you at sunrise.”
Foster voiced his thanks and gingerly crawled in next to Nathaniel, nudging the elf until he was against the far wall. After checking to make sure the new cloak covered his brother he rested his head on his arm as a pillow. Nathaniel turned and snuggled close and Foster frowned, he could still smell lavender in the hair of his brother. They had no chance to bathe since their escape, had barely found time to splash water on their faces.   First chance they get he would wash that scent from Nathaniel; he never wanted to smell lavender again. Fingers wrapped around his long ivory tresses, a habit of Nathaniel’s when they slept. Foster didn’t know if it was because he’d shorten the elf’s hair preventing him from using his own or if it was an attempt to keep Foster close. “It’s okay, Baby Brother,” he whispered closing his eyes. “It’s going to be okay … come back to us, please …”
They were on the move shortly after sunrise; Foster had secured cloaks for all of them but was still wary of walking on the roads, so they continued to hike through the wilderness. The long grass and uneven terrain slowed them down, though no one complained. Foster and Sara both carried a backpack now; across Nathaniel’s back was a small quiver and bow Foster had bought in Stromgarde. The elf had seemed reluctant to take it; Foster had hoped the familiar feel would aid in returning his brother’s mind from where ever it had gone to escape the atrocities he’d suffered. There were tiny burst of seemly normality, a comment made or a subtle action but the death knight couldn’t figure out if it was truly progress or just the puppet making the moves when the strings were pulled.
Suddenly Nathaniel, who had been leading, dropped to his knees; the other two quickly did the same. “What is it?” Foster hissed.
The elf didn’t answer aloud but held up two fingers and pointed off to the left. Foster had seen that same move a hundred times when they were together with the Order. For a brief moment there was hope until the blank eyes turned to him for their next order, the puppet had alerted its master just like it had been told. A quick sign told Nathaniel what to do and he led the small group carefully around whatever had alerted him. A short time later the elf’s pose relaxed and Foster assumed whatever had alerted him had passed.
The attack came from nowhere; the armor he wore was the only thing that saved him as broadsword slammed into his back. Sara shouted and drew her sword, quickly putting Nathaniel between them as a small group of masked men appeared. The assailants gave them no time to regroup, pressing their advantage of surprise. His sister skillfully parried an attack, as Foster let his cloak fall to the ground. His ghastly armor had the desired effect as a couple of the men faltered. Taking his large sword from the scabbard on his back, he went on the offensive. Skillfully wielding both blade and the dark powers he’d been cursed with.
“An elf, a damned and cursed knight,” one of the assailants said behind his mask. “And I thought today would be boring …”
“I have no fight with you,” Foster said, “leave us and live or stay and die.”
“Cocky bastard,” the man said again, in his hand was a heavy mace that he held with ease.
The ground around the trio started to wither, Foster was very careful to keep Sara and Nathaniel out of the scourged magic. As the air around them began to chill, the breaths of the foes became frosted. As the land frosted, so did Foster’s blood, chilling, hardening, bracing his body for the attacks.
“Brother,” Sara said, surprisingly calm, “I hear horses, would beat walking, and they won’t stand out as much as Knight.”
“All right,” Foster said, “then let us even the odds …” Dark bolts shot out from him and struck the ground, where ever they hit, a bony hand shot up from the dirt, followed a moment later by the rest of the ghoul. A dozen undead servants sprung at their nearest foe, ripping through armor with teeth and claws. The early morning air became a chorus of screams of pain and terror. “Quickly!” Foster shouted; bringing his sword around, he lopped a head off the nearest man. The training Sara had received showed as she swiftly joined in and helped dispatch the would-be robbers.   “Don’t let any escape,” Foster growled, “we don’t want to be tracked!”
As his scourge born plague choked the life out of a pair, Sara shouted. “One got away,” she gestured toward a man riding off on the back of a black horse. “Shoot him, Nathaniel …” their elven brother stood silent as he had the whole battle. Sara whipped around and slapped her elder brother hard across the face. Nathaniel startled and reached into his quiver to pull out an arrow, a moment later it arched through the air and struck the retreating man in the back of the neck. He fell off the horse, which continued to gallop away.
“Not even to save us,” Sara mumbled under her breath as she checked over their attackers.
“If people find this …” Foster gestured at the corpses, “we will be hunted.”
“They started it,” Sara said with a frown.
“We won’t be given the courtesy to defend ourselves,” Foster said. “Go check on the horses, and bring him with you.”
Foster sighed at the disgust in his sister’s gaze toward Nathaniel as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him off to where the horses were tethered. He’d deal with it later, for now he had bodies to hide. Collecting the corpse of the man that tried to escape he brought it over to the carnage of the rest of his group and started to chant. Flesh fell away from bones and slowly a new army of ghouls arose. Another command sent them sinking into the ground to await his spell to return them to fight for him. The bits of clothing were easily burnt and ashes scattered, there was little he could do for the plagued land, it would recover in time.
“Glad you’re on our side,” Sara said walking into the clearing with two horses trailing behind her, a Bay and a Chestnut. Nathaniel was with her, his hands as always playing with the hem of his shirt.
“And I am glad you are on my side as well Little Sis,” Foster said removing his gauntlet he walked over to Nathaniel and brushed the blood off his busted lip. “You have been trained well.”
“I’m sorry,” Sara said, as she watched him rub some ointment into the cut. “He was going to let that man get away, why didn’t he …”
“Because, he can’t,” Foster said, “whatever walls he put in place, he can no longer find his way out.”
“I … I don’t think it was his doing,” Sara said. “For the short time I was in that monster’s hands he cursed more than once about a woman taking his ‘slut’ from him.   I’m sorry I don’t know more.”
“Well if it is truly a spell cast, then that must mean it can be removed,” Foster helped her into the saddle of the Chestnut. He wrapped her backpack around the saddle horn and lifted Nathaniel behind her. “Hold on,” he commanded and the elf wrapped his arms around her waist.
Foster approached the Bay who whinnied and shuffled his hooves uneasy. “It’s okay, boy,” he said softly. “I know I smell funny, but you would be a great asset in our journey.” After a couple of more moments of encouragement the sturdy horse allowed him to mount, Foster knew he must be heavy in his armor but the horse felt solid. “All right,” Foster said, “let’s go.”
Not knowing who the men were and if the mounts they rode could be identified at a glance they continued to stay off the beaten path. The horses traveled across the plains with ease. They were able to travel almost the full length of the Highlands before night fell.   Sara eyed a large spider warily; it was as big as their horses but seemed more interested in the raptor it was feasting on than them.   “We need to set up camp,” she said, “before Nathaniel falls off the saddle.”
The elf in question was asleep leaning against Sara’s back. Foster urged the Bay closer and rubbed his brother’s back, sleepy eyes open. “Any thoughts?” he asked.
Sara gestured toward the hills to the east and Foster nodded, taking the lead he found a secluded grove and to their surprise a small creek ran close by. “Too cold tonight,” Foster said, “but tomorrow we’re going to bathe.”
“Are you saying I stink?” Sara said, as Nathaniel slid down off the saddle.
“I’m saying we all reek,” Foster replied. As Nathaniel headed out to scout their camp, Foster gathered firewood and Sara began working on a bed. No hovel, this evening it would be under the stars tonight. When the elf returned he was carrying the body of a small wild pig.
“Aw,” Sara said as she took the corpse, “did you have to kill a baby?”
“What would we do with the sow?” Foster said as fire sparked to life. “It would rot before we ate it all.” He glanced over at Nathaniel, “report.”
“No one within a mile, Master,” Nathaniel said.
“How many times have I told you to call me Brother or Foster?”
The elf touched his face where Sara had struck him. “Yes, Master Foster,” he said softly and the death knight sighed.
“We’ll rotate watches,” Foster said awhile later over smoked piglet they ate with their fingers. Between his own bites he would feed his brother. “I’ll go first, then Nathaniel and then you Sis.”
“Will … I mean … can he …”
“If I ordered him to,” Foster said, “he’s very good at following orders … aren’t you Baby Brother?”
“Yes, sir,” Nathaniel replied.
After his siblings had bedded down under their cloaks, Foster removed the armor given to him by the Lich King and using an old rag started to clean it.   His watch passed uneventful, he kept time with an old timepiece he’d gotten at Stromgarde. Leaving just his thin cotton underclothing on, he woke Nathaniel up. Handing him a dagger and his bow, he ordered the elf to watch over the camp. His brother nodded his understanding and that he was supposed to wake his sister up when the watch Foster gave him reached three.
Placing his back against Sara’s he fell asleep and as he slept he dreamt.   It was one of his favorite dreams, at least before he was turned. Nignath and he were lying together; he was teasing the nipples of her large emerald breasts with his tongue before she got tired of his game and rolled him over on his back. After a kiss, her lips moved lower down his body, licking and tasting until they found the object of her desire. His seeping hardness, he could feel the touch of her small tusks on sides of his heated flesh as she took him inside her mouth. Moaning under her touch, it had been too long. His hand reached down and grabbed the hair he found there holding her in place. The mouth eagerly sucked him, her tongue massaging and he knew it wouldn’t be too long. Reaching down with his other hand to warn her, his fingers brushed her ear … long slender ear. The wrongness tore him from his dreams, blinking he looked up at the tree leaves that were his canopy. That’s when he realized it hadn’t been a dream, the waistband of his pants had been lowered and there was a warm mouth working his hardness that still quivered on the verge of release. In the light of the dying fire the outline of the bent over figure became clear and Foster shouted knocking his brother hard away.
“No … no … NO!” he screamed as he grabbed the waistband of his pants.
Behind him Sara startled awake. “What’s wrong …” she started.
Foster didn’t answer already moving toward the cowering elf. “NEVER touch me like that again!” he screamed his rage and humiliation shaking him to his core.
“You were hard …” the cowering elf said, confused.
“Oh …” Sara gasped.
“Never!” Foster shouted again, “you’re my brother … you were my brother …” and for the first time in a very long time, the tears started and he was unable to stop them.
- 14
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shattered