Brothers | By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- 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 Twenty-Seven – Foster Conway, Age 22
Foster swung the scythe slicing through the stalks of wheat with ease. A task he'd done a hundred times before. The iron around his ankles was new though for harvest time, it kept him bound to Kobug and Skang who were following behind bundling up the wheat. The chains were heavy, though unlike the orcs Foster was permitted to wear his boots so the cold iron didn't touch his flesh. His chest was bare like the others, so the brand on his back could be seen. Pausing a moment he wiped a hand across his forehead and glanced over to where Percy was resting under the shade of a tree. Fighting the urge to ask for a drink for his parched lips, Foster went back to swinging the scythe. "Ready yourself," Kobug whispered. Foster turned and raised the scythe blocking a blow from Kobug. He heard Percy yell as Skang charged as well. They were shouting nonsense at him in their native tongue but Percy had no idea. It was all for show, they wanted their keepers to think there was hatred between him and the orcs. It had been Kobug's suggestion, enemy of my enemy. They took turns on who instigated the fights to spread out the discipline, except Foster refused to let Nignath fall under the whip because of it. Their keepers found other reasons to turn the leather on her back, though. Speaking of whips, Percy's came down flogging both him and the orcs indiscriminately until they parted. "What is this all about?" Percy growled. "They started it," Foster said with a shrug. "He stupid," Kobug grunted. Foster bent down hiding a grin as he picked up the scythe. The orcs always spoke to their captors in broken Common. When they were alone they could speak it as fluent as him. "Says the orc who plays with his own dung," Foster replied. "Sorry, Sir," he said to Percy. "I just did enough to protect myself; I wouldn't harm Mr. Burton's property if I can help it." "Five minute break for you, Foster," Percy said as he bent down and unchained him. "Go get a drink, the orcs can finish this row for you." As he turned to leave, Foster mouthed his thanks and got a nod from Kobug. "Stupid humans," the orc snarled as he picked up the scythe Foster had dropped and started slicing through the wheat stalks. "Not the most literate brutes are they?" Foster asked as he took a drink of water from a canteen. When that got him a confused look he said, "Smart … they aren't very smart." "Nah," Percy agreed. "I'm surprised they have honored Mr. Burton's rule that four go into the cellar and four come out or else. Keep expecting to find your head on a spike when I open the latch in the morning." "You and me both, Sir," Foster said. He finished his drink and watched the orcs out in the field. "Will I be taken out tonight, Sir?" "Don't know," Percy said. "I didn't get any orders to be soft on you today so you're rested but that doesn't always stop Mr. Burton. You're getting quite the reputation in the ring, and the boss never could turn down a bet. Break time is over, let's go." "Yes, Sir." That evening he, Kobug and Skang huddled under a small lean-to made of some planks and a tarp, the weather had turned and rain was pouring down. The three men were bound back to back, in a small circle with their hands chained behind them, to one another and a large iron stake buried in the ground. Their keepers were in the warm house, giving them ability to speak freely. At the moment they were teaching him more orc words so they could speak to one another freely under the guise of augmenting. The wind blew sharply and Foster shivered, there was a shuffling behind him as the orcs shifted to take the brunt of the weather. "You don't need to do that," he said in broken Orcish. "I think he just called you a brown cup of trees, Uncle," Skang chuckled. The backdoor opened and Nignath hurried out into the storm. The men parted so she could kneel down in behind them. "Just gruel tonight, sorry," she said. She dipped a cup into the bowl she held and then carefully poured the warm liquid into their mouths. She worked her way around the circle, Foster made sure she took some for herself. Soon the bowl was scraped clean and she left them to dash back into the rain and the house. The next time the door opened Percy followed her out bundled in his slicker. Foster frowned at the rifle he carried. "Go on, whore," Percy said pushing Nignath toward the men. "Free them up, time to get you tucked in for the night." As Foster stood Percy motioned for him to sit back down. "Not you, Foster, you're needed tonight. Chain him back up, whore." Sighing Foster sat and let Nignath bind him to the stake. "This weather isn't fit for man or beast," he said, "who would be out in this?" "You'd be surprised," Percy said, motioning the orcs to go in front of him with the barrel of his rifle. Not able to help himself Foster asked about the gun. "What has you spooked, Sir, you don't need anything more than that bullwhip to persuade me." "These orcs get all savage with this kind of weather," Percy said. "Get it in their heads they can get away and I don't feel like chasing any of them today." Foster nodded. The ground beneath him had grown muddy along with his jeans. Percy returned, freed him from his chains and motioned him out of the tarp. In his hands were Foster's traveling manacles, he held out his arms and let them be snapped in place. He followed Percy into the barn where there were three horses saddled. This was different; his usual mode of transport was the wagon. "Can you ride?" Percy asked. "Yes, Sir," Foster said. "Get me up on a horse and you'll never see me again," he thought silently. The cold barrel of the shotgun pressed into his bare back. "Don't get any ideas," Percy growled as he helped Foster up onto the saddle, leaving his hands bound in front of him. Arthur Burton came into the barn, his slicker soaked from the rain. Foster eyed the open door judging the distance. There was no more time for delay, he dug his heels into the horse and it leapt away. He heard Percy curse but was already out of the barn and urging his mount into a gallop. They let him reach the edge of the corral before there was a sharp whistle and his mount pulled up. Cursing Foster urged the horse to go on, there was a second whistle and he found himself bucked off, he crashed to the ground hard. "Guess orcs aren't the only stupid ones," Percy said as he walked over, gun held casually in his hands. "To his credit this is the first time he's tried since we bought him," Arthur said as Percy dragged him to his feet. "It was a test, one you failed miserably. We will have to deal with that little oversight when we get back, for now, you have a date at Gilbert's. Seems he has acquired an orc he is quite proud of." He was urged to get back onto the horse and followed obediently behind Arthur as they left the homestead. The weather beat down on him as they traveled, he was completely drenched and shivering from the cold by the time they approached a farmhouse surrounded by a dozen wagons. "You can't expect me to fight like this, Sir," he said through chattering teeth. "Not only fight but win," Arthur said. He gave Foster a once over. "Clean him up, Percy, they like it when he's pretty." "Yes, Sir," Percy said. Once they were inside the crowded barn, Percy led him over to a corner and ordered him to sit down on a stool. Afterwards he pulled out a wicked looking razor. "Hold still," he growled. "Hate to slit that pretty throat of yours." A painful dry shaving followed as his unkempt beard was removed. Arthur walked over and nodded his approval. "First course is almost done," he said gesturing to the makeshift cage where two orcs faced off. "You've become their favorite, Foster, which is making it hard to earn money off you. However, tonight there are even odds, I've seen your challenger he's huge. If you win I'll go light on your punishment when we get back from your earlier lapse of judgment." "You ready, Art?" A man asked. "Yep," Arthur said with a smile. "This boy was born ready." Foster was led over to the pen, inside was the largest orc he'd ever seen. It must have had two feet on him and a hundred pounds. "You're sending me to my death," Foster whispered as his keeper unshackled him. "Then die well," Arthur said shutting the cage's door and signaling the start of the fight. Foster was already moving as the giant brute of an orc crashed where he had been a moment ago. "We don't have to fight," he shouted in Orcish. "Surk smash!" the orc replied in Common as he charged again. As he once again dove out of the way, Foster noticed a lack of intelligence in the giant's face. All he saw was a primal savage rage. It seemed prudent to stay out of Surk's reach so Foster kept moving away as he thought. No matter their size, the weak spots were still the same … the eyes, the throat, the groin, kidney … the shouting outside the ring got louder. "We didn't pay to see him dance!" someone shouted. "Get your ass in there," Arthur ordered. "You first, Sir," Foster replied as he again dodged an attack. This time instead retreating after the orc ran past he turned and placing his hands on the ground as leverage he kicked both legs into his foe behind the knee causing the leg to buckle. He barely missed the hand grabbing for him as he slipped away. Surk stood up and let out a howl of anger as he charged again. "Well that didn't do much," Foster thought to himself as jumped and rolled out of the way. An orc's endurance was stronger than his, as past brawls had proved he had to end this before Surk outlasted him. As the orc turned around Foster charged instead of retreating, Surk seemed confused to see his prey running at him instead of away. As the large hand smashed down, Foster crossed his arms above his head blocking it. It still shook him to the core. He brought his boot up burying it in the orc's crotch. It was dirty but these fights were a matter of survival. To his dismay the attack didn't faze Surk who wrapped his thick fingers around Foster's neck and lifted him up so his feet hung off the floor. Choking Foster wrapped his hands around the wrist. "Surk smash!" the crowd shouted. The dense orc pulled Foster closer to him; as his lips curled up in a cruel smile around his chipped tusks. Letting go of the wrist Foster gored the furious eyes with his hands; this got him a howl as he was thrown aside hard. As he crashed into the cage wall the crowd outside let out hoots. His fingers were bloody. "I'm sorry," he whispered as the orc clawed at his face. "Surk smash!" the crowd chanted. The orc turned toward him, his left eye closed, blood smeared down his face. It was time to end this Foster thought as he held his ground, the half-blind giant charged. At the last moment he again moved out of the way. The orc crashed into the wall … the same spot Foster had been tossed into and much to everyone's shock in the barn the barrier collapsed. Foster could only watch in terror as the enraged orc turned his fury on those outside. Two men died instantly when the great hands crushed their heads. "Surk smash!" the orc said contently as he reached for another. There was a loud blast and the giant stumbled, there was a volley of gunfire and Foster watched as those outside fought for their lives until the orc finally fell to the ground. It wasn't before he killed half dozen men. Foster barely felt Percy put the shackles around his wrists. "Stupid Gilbert," he growled pulling Foster behind him. "Get himself an orc like that, what was he thinking?" Foster stumbled. "I think he busted some ribs," he said. "We'll look back at the farm," Percy said putting him up on a horse. "It's about to get really ugly here." Arthur hurried over and got onto his own horse. The ride home was grim and quiet; each jolt sent excruciating pain through him. The rain washed away the orc's blood. After they reached homestead he was pulled off the back of the horse and Percy led him over the barn door. Foster knew what was coming but that didn't make it any easier. His chains were attached to a hook and lifted above his head. As he was stretched out he screamed in pain from the broken ribs. "That's the first time I've heard you scream," Percy said, "I like it." Arthur appeared with a whip curled in his hand. "I told you if you won …" "Just do it," Foster said. The man nodded and disappeared behind him. The first blow always startled after that there was a rhythm. The welcomed darkness was pulling at him when his left shoulder exploded in pain; he let out a yell as the brand left his flesh. His arms were free and he dropped to his knees. "Yes," Percy hissed in his ear. "I like that a lot." After being pulled to his feet Arthur stepped in front of him. "I'm disappointed in you, Foster, thought you had figured things out. Guess everyone needs a reminder here and there. You're mine, body and soul. Don't you forget it! Now go let that orc whore patch you up, if this rain stops I'll expect you in the fields tomorrow." Foster was led back to the cellar and shoved inside. Strong arms caught him and he groaned at the water he felt under foot, he was tired of being wet. More to the point he was just tired and with a sigh he let the darkness win.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. 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