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Stranglethorn Fever	By : Machina Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 7819 -:- 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
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�� A low groan
alerted the Rogue to Joachim�s entrance back to clarity, slowly turning to
hunch his lanky body over his bound companion.
�� I see you
be joinin� da living
again.�
�� Joachim�s eyes fluttered open,
catching sight of a turquoise raptor that was settled near him.� He was too tired to be afraid of its fierce
gaze, sharp teeth and massive claws.� Osoran�s steed worked its jaw slowly, rubbing a slightly
deformed paw against its muzzle before wagging a thick tail.� In the low light it looked almost ethereal,
with the mustard-colored stripes seeming to dance across the rough hide.
�� A long
finger gently traced down the soft angles of the Elf�s face, curiously
exploring the skin still soft and pliable with youth.� Emerald eyes glimmering with fascination, the
Troll slowly pressed down on Joachim�s lower lip, watching the flesh go pallid
before plumping back into life.� Those
bright eyes blinked again, a distracted grin curling around a tusk - he just couldn�t resist.� A thick nail tapped tentatively against slack
jaws, clicked against white teeth, gently parting them before slipping the
finger in to the first bend�
�� Osoran leapt back a good several feet and hissed more in
surprise than pain, shaking his bleeding finger.� He quickly looked up and down from his hand
to the still prostrate Elf, ears flattened as he hunched protectively over his
hand.
�� A low,
slurred chuckle purred deep within Joachim�s throat, his eyes still
heavily-lidded with the sleeping voodoo.�
This isn�t happening-
�� The
Troll blinked once before letting out a subdued snuffle of amusement.� There was a mild sort of annoyance in his
tone, a slight curl to his upper lip that belied the calm in that low, gravelly
voice.� For a few silent moments Osoran merely rubbed his wounded hand, eyes never straying
from the puckish Elf as the flesh began to knit together like so many fine
threads.
�� Joachim stared in dull horror,
having heard of the legendary regenerative abilities of the Trolls.
�� Well. Aren�cha a real killah.�

+

��
�� What didja say Elfie? You bettah speak up or Osoran can�t
help ya.�
�� Osoran shifted his weight as he pondered over several new
recipes bought from a traveling merchant.�
He�d already gathered most of the ingredients � several packets of hot
spices, some stolen eggs of huge size
as well as a freshly killed boar laying nearby, still steaming from an abrupt death.
�� I� I need to make water.�
�� Long ears
swiveled slowly as Osoran gave a cursory glance at
the still bound Joachim behind him.� The
pair obviously had little trust for each other, although the Troll was much
more compensating in the strained relationship.�
A thick brow was raised with mild amusement, bright eyes lazily watching
the Night Elf through lowered lids.
�� Why din�cha say so soonah,
Elfie?�
�� Joachim frowned
and turned his head away, his cheeks
stinging with irritation.� His
bindings were much more lenient, although his ankles were still tied together and his wrists secured
behind his back.� A mild grunt of
surprise escaped as Osoran gripped him under the
waist, propping him up and getting the limp Druid into a standing position.
�� Wait!� What
are you doing!?�
�� Osoran sniffed dismissively, hands reaching around for
Joachim�s belt.
�� Don�t be
such a bebbie.�
�� One large
hand flattened itself firmly against his lower belly while slyly lifting up the
soft leather armor, as the other easily loosened the cloth belt and the leather
string holding the front of his pants together.�
Joachim�s hips jerked backwards and then forward again as he pressed
into Osoran, shuffling in an awkward dance in an attempt to escape the
situation.� He regretted it almost
immediately as the pressure against his
bladder only increased.
�� Wait!!�
�� The Night Elf
grit his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as his chin sharply tilted upwards with a
dark flush appearing across the high cheekbones.� So concerned with childish pre-occupations of
glory and adventure he had barely explored his budding masculinity, and the touch
of another � an enemy of the Alliance no less � was
unbearable and frightening.
�� Just let
it all out mon, Osoran seen worse. � Hmm� so dis be what an Elfie looks like.�
�� A thin
sheen of sweat formed on Joachim�s forehead.� Osoran,
ever patient, simply waited.
�� However,
even the ancients grow tired of waiting.�
The Troll rolled his eyes and pressed
his lips together, the broad palm slowly and firmly pressing down.
�� Dat wasn�t so bad now, was it mon?�
�� Osoran�s tusks lightly
grazed against the Kaldorei�s vulnerable throat as he
pulled back, a deliberate movement.�
Shaking everything back into place before retying the leather
cord of the Druid�s pants, the Rogue
slowly stepped back with a wry grin before waddling off with a disinterested
yawn.
�� Letting out
an exaggerated sigh, the Troll
hunched over a fresh pile of wood and began to strike his flint.� Perhaps,
Osoran mused with a sting of regret, he shouldn�t
have taken the boy away (although he
would not admit it was a blatant kidnapping) but leaving the Druid back
on the field would have meant certain death.�
Brave with youth and drunk with the promise of honor, countless warriors
barely past the bud of childhood had fallen in battle without prejudice,
although the Rogue himself deliberately
avoided conflict with those who were obviously inexperienced.
In truth Osoran
rarely took a life, preferring instead to render his opponents harmless.� Business-wise it was a fine deal as it kept potential customers alive.
�� The Rogue furrowed his brow, tilting his
head as he watched Joachim with
dark eyes.� He knew how impulsive it was to take the
Night Elf away � who knew who was frantically searching for signs of his
existence or perhaps, with heavy sorrow in their hearts, his remains?� Would they sigh and curse the Horde for his
untimely death, or attribute his youthful demise to the harsh world, perhaps
his stupidity and carelessness?� After
all, a swift and sudden death was not uncommon in Azeroth.
�� Wallowing in self-pity the Night Elf
failed to notice the slack in his bindings until he brought up a hand to
discreetly swipe at a small tear.
�� Get ya goin�.�
�� A small gasp escaped the Druid as he
stared up at the Troll, who had slowly stood and towered over him.� The bright fire from behind forced heavy
shadows across the Rogue�s front, and only the curve of his tusks and the
bright gleam of those small, sharp eyes stood above the illuminated outline.
�� Go back home.� Git on home to yo mammie!�
�� Joachim�s expression slowly changed
from fear to that of dismay, and then to anger as his fists clenched in his
lap.
�� Sly eyes narrowed in amusement as
the Troll turned his head.
�� Best you grow up fast, coz the
earth swallows up de weak.�
�� Anger blurring his vision, the brash
young Kaldorei flung a small branch at Osoran who easily flicked it away with an almost careless
movement of his wrist without even looking in his direction.� However he wasn�t prepared for the Elf
flinging himself, and he let out a harsh cry as he crashed onto his side.� The Troll�s raptor, loyal as always, merely
emitted a somewhat worried whistle as it watched, making peculiar slashing
movements in the air with its small front claws.� Osoran glared up at
his oblivious companion as it wagged its tail, happy to have been noticed by
its master.
�� Attacking with all the grace of a kodo, Joachim gagged when a huge foot pressed into his gut
and lifted him upwards, before tossing him to the side.� He had nearly managed to stand when the same
foot was painfully shoved into his chest, forcing him back down with a heavy
thud.� This only seemed to excite the
raptor even more, and a nervous glance towards the beast only made the Druid
even more uncomfortable as he averted his eyes from the slavering jaws.
�� If�n you tink dis is what it is to be
brave, then you an even bigger fool then I thought.�
Joachim merely stared, the tension in the air palpable.� Then he blinked, and glanced up perplexed.
�How do you know Common?�
Osoran stared back down before he stepped away, rubbing his eyes in a movement
that suddenly made the Druid miss his brother.
�Oy.� All dis time and NOW you be askin� me
dat.�
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Stranglethorn Fever