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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 List
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Chapter Thirty-Three – Foster Conway, Age 22
The week after Kobug and Skang were taken away was a difficult one for Foster, as the only hand he was worked hard. He could thresh the wheat by himself but to winnow he had to ask Percy to hold the other end of the sheet. The man grew impatient at times and the cloth would fly too high, losing both kernels and chaff. He made the mistake of cursing under his breath after one such incident and was rewarded with a harsh whipping. One that Arthur walked in on. When he demanded to know the reason Foster was quick to speak up.
"I need his help winnowing," he said, "and Mr. Percy tosses the sheet like a child would. You're losing wheat faster than we're collecting it. I need real help if I am to finish this in a timely fashion."
"You're asking me to find another slave …"
"You could just pay someone to do the work," Foster said, exasperated. He was rewarded by a backhand, and it took every bit of his resolve to accept it passively.
"Seems someone got some piss in his oats this morning," Arthur said. "Chain him up, Percy."
"Gladly," Percy said as he dragged Foster off and fastened him to the hook in the barn. Foster could only watch as Nignath was brought in, her hands in manacles. Usually it was just her ankles so she could work in the kitchen. Her chains were placed on an identical hook and lifted up so she hung directly in front of him.
"She didn't do anything," Foster said alarmed.
"See," Arthur said, "I figured something out. The two of you have been awful close these past few says since losing the others." He walked behind Nignath and there was a ripping sound, her dress fell down, pooling at her feet. "She does have nice tits," he said as he reached around and cupped a breast in each hand. His fingers tightened and he squeezed. Nignath let out a howl and Foster shouted.
"Be calm, Brother," Nignath cried in orc. "They have done this before, many times, do not let them use me to hurt you."
"Seems I was right," Arthur said as he walked around swatting Nignath hard on the ass. "I could beat you until you didn't have the strength to crawl and it would do nothing to your spirit. No to get to you we have to hurt those you care about. That's how you ended up in this situation isn't it? The bandits said something about a brother. Imagine what I could make you do if it was your brother here instead of this green whore. But I have a feeling she'll do just fine." He nodded over to where Percy stood by with a whip in his hand. "She's all yours," he said.
"I'll be fine, Brother!" Nignath said in orcish. "Don't let them break you, bend … just like I will."
Foster closed his eyes as the whip fell. "Open those eyes," Arthur ordered. "Every time you shut them I'll add another ten strikes"
He focused on Nignath, she met his gaze. Foster counted forty lashes before Percy stopped. "If I go much longer she won't be fit to make dinner," he said, "then we'll be stuck with Jasper's cooking."
"What about it, Foster?" Arthur said from where he watched. "Lesson learned?"
"Yes, sir," Foster said.
They took Nignath off the chains first and she crumbled to the ground. He was prevented from going to help her and was led back out where the wheat waited. Foster watched as Nignath tried to put on her tattered dress. Arthur tugged it away and threw it down. "You can do your chores naked," he said with an evil grin. "Just keep those tits out of the soup." As she shuffled off toward the kitchen, Foster could only look in dismay at the bloody slashes across her back and buttocks.
"Mm," Percy said, "I'm going to get me a piece of that tonight, but don't worry there will be plenty left for you."
Foster knew if the chance presented itself he'd have no qualms killing that man. But for now there was nothing he could do but pick up the wheat and start threshing it. When it came to winnowing he figured out a way to hold the two corners of the far side of the sheet down with stones so he could do it solo. It was still painstakingly slow work and even with him skipping his midday meal, he had only a half dozen bags of wheat at the end of the day to show for it.
That evening dinner was a bowl of cold dog food and an alchemy laced drink. Foster knew he was going out again. As Nignath collected his dish, she caressed his cheek. "Come back to me, Brother, don't leave me here alone" she said.
"Dabu," Foster replied. He watched her walk back into the kitchen, she had not been permitted to dress yet but he could see she had started to mend herself. The lashes from earlier had scabbed over and some were already fading. The sun had long since set before the men of the house emerged. There was some argument about who was staying with Nignath; Foster's blood ran cold when it was Percy staying behind. Jasper walked over to him and unchained him from his stake. "Come on," he said, "we're headed to Gilbert's he wants a rematch."
"His orc was killed," Foster said as he was led over to the wagon.
"Guess he found something better," Jasper said with a wicked grin. "Nothing to worry about though, you eat orcs for breakfast … at least that is what Percy says." The man laughed at his perverted joke and hopped in the front seat with his father.
Foster closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Whatever was thrown at him tonight be it orc or ogre, he had to survive and return to Nignath. He paused, these past few months his thoughts had always been to return home … now his front most concern was the orc maiden left behind in chains. He pondered on that for the rest of the trip until they pulled up in front of the Gilbert's farm. There was a loud and boisterous crowd already shouting from within.
The man named Gilbert saw them approach and walked over. "Ah good," he said, "You showed." He eyed Foster, "best make your peace, boy, tonight you're going to meet your maker." There was a gleam in his eyes that made Foster uneasy.
"Just tell us when you're ready," Arthur said.
"Oh, we're ready now," Gilbert said, "we've just been feeding it some lesser orcs to keep it happy."
"Feeding?" Jasper said, confused. "These fights are suppose to be man to man … we're not putting our prized fighter in with some sort of beast."
"Oh no worries," Gilbert said with a smirk. "I think you'll like this one … it's mostly a man. And to make it worth your time, I'll double our standard bet."
"Sounds good," Arthur said. "Let's go, Foster."
They entered the barn and the first thing to reach Foster was the smell of blood … death. The frenzied crowd parted and within a blood splattered cage he saw the head of an orc bounce off the wall.
"What the hell is that?" Jasper gasped.
In the pen was a creature, the likes which Foster had never seen before. The lower half of the body looked like a snake; it slithered across the cage floor as it tore the carcass it held in its talon like hands to pieces. The upper half of the body was thick and muscular and the face … it looked more like a dragon than a man. The entire body was covered with brilliant blue glistening scales. Along his head and arms were growths that looked like fins. Foster stopped and shook his head. "That ain't human," he said. "You put me in there and you'll be harvesting your crops yourself."
Arthur seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I assume that you've reinforced your cage since last time. That thing getting loose …"
"Yeah," Gilbert said. "That beast isn't going anywhere. Though you'll have to be quick tossing your boy in there, he moves fast for his size."
"It's an oversized fish out of water," Jasper said with a smirk. "How hard can it be?"
Foster counted at least three bodies lying in the pen with the beast. His chain became taut as Arthur pulled him closer. "Sir!" he shouted.
"Foster," Arthur said, "I can beat you first and put you in this cage or you can walk in there under your own power. Both ways end with you in the same place; it’s up to you how beaten you are before the match even starts."
"At least give me a weapon," Foster said.
"These are unarmed battles," Gilbert pointed out.
"That creature has talons as sharp as knives and scales thicker than most armor," Foster counter, "give me a fair shot of getting out alive."
"Those orcs barely lasted ten seconds," one of the onlookers said, "I say give him his choice of weapons … at least make it worth my time coming here tonight." His sentiment was echoed by those around him.
"Fine," Gilbert said with a shrug. "If you brought a weapon with you, you may give it to him but no fair getting aid from anyone."
Arthur and Jasper spoke quietly to each other and then the younger one unstrapped a large knife he had sheathed to his side. "You go into the cage first and then I'll toss the blade in," he said. "It's the best we have, do try to live. I'm sure your orc whore is screaming your name right now as Percy takes her."
Foster's rage built but he kept himself focused. As he was walked toward the cage he looked over at Gilbert. "Do you at least know what it is?"
"It was caught off the coast," he replied. "Damn near killed an entire platoon of soldiers before being subdued it is called Naga." So it was a water creature of sorts, perhaps it was weaker on land.
The beast called Naga slithered to the back of the cage and folded its arms. It seemed to be waiting for him. So perhaps it's not as ignorant as those around them believed. Arthur went to remove Foster's manacles before opening the door, it was usually done afterwards but Gilbert seemed to think the beast would strike quickly. "Don't try anything," the older man hissed. "There are fifty armed men around you, who would be more than willing to put a bullet in you than miss out on the chance of making some extra gold." Arthur nodded at Jasper who unlatched the door and Foster was shoved inside. The knife was tossed in and the door quickly latched.
The entire time the naga stood off to the side, his massive tail twitching. "Arm yourself, human," it finally hissed. The clear speech made the people outside gasp.
Foster grabbed the blade. It felt solid in his grip, he wondered if it was sharp enough to cut through the scale armor of the other.
The naga bent down and picked up one of the severed orc heads by its ponytail. "Why are you in this cage, human?" it asked. "What did you do to turn your own kind against you?" Before he could answer the creature went on. "Think I will kill you slowly," that got encouraging yells from outside. "Until you are begging me to kill you and then I'll cut out your tongue so you cannot plead and continue." All Foster saw was a blue blur but he still managed to move out of the way and avoid most of the attack. The razor sharp talons left three bloody streaks down his back. The tail whipped around tripping him and he stumbled. Then the beast was on him, crushing him against the ground. His dragon like maw opened to show hundreds of razor sharp teeth as his serpent tongue slipped out and across Foster's cheek.
"He's tasting him," someone shouted.
Foster brought the blade down on the naga's arm; if it did any damage he didn't see it. The blue beast swatted it away as he would an annoying fly and the blade flew across the cage. The naga wrapped his massive tail around Foster's legs and held him in place. As Foster fought to free himself, the beast slithered over to the cage door, dragging him hopelessly behind.
"I changed my mind," it hissed. "I want to keep this one."
The crowd booed. "Kill him or at least incapacitate him," Gilbert said between the bars.
The naga glanced over his shoulder at where Foster was struggling. The coils around him tightened, threatening to crush his legs. "No!" he screamed. The tail twitched lifting him up and toward the creature's chest. He swung, trying for the eyes; its talons gripped his arms and pulled them down to his side. They were like vices. In desperation Foster slammed its snout with his head, this got him a grunt. His head was then pushed painfully to the side baring his neck.
"Time to sleep, human," the naga whispered in his ear as his front fangs buried into his neck and shoulder.
The poison worked quickly numbing him, making movement impossible. As he went limp the grip on him went lessened. There were cheers and shouts of denial from those outside the pen. Foster's last thought was of Nignath, "sorry …" he whispered as darkness claimed him.
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Brothers