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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1832 -:- 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.

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Chapter Forty-Five – Foster Conway, Age 23
As punishment for his defiance, Foster was denied the right to bathe before the night's matches. He was also forced to remain nude, leaving behind what little protection the now shabby blanket gave him. Wishing he could tell himself he no longer cared, but somehow through everything he'd been through there was still a tiny spark of self-worth left. Zalashji forced him to walk in front of him with the naga holding on the chain attached to his collar from behind, much like a master leading his dog. As they approached the barn they heard a large roar coming from behind. The ground shook. Their armed guards prodded the naga to continue. There was a large noisy throng tonight. The pen was larger than usual, taking up most of the free space. The crowd was forced to stand either to the front or the back … the bars rested against the sides of the barn. To his relief there was no spike in the middle of the cage and he was chained to the far corner as was his normal place. Zalashji sprayed him with the fine mist and Foster took that as a warning to lie quiet and still, his master was going to be in cavernous bloodlust tonight. He moved as far as the chain would allow away from the rowdy crowd. He wasn't in the mood to be pissed on tonight, which had happened before. With the wall on the other side he was mostly safe.
"Welcome," Gilbert shouted to be heard above the crowd. "Quiet down now … quiet down … let me speak!" After the gathering fell to a low roar he continued. "We have a treat tonight! At the request of my naga he has been asked to participate in a gauntlet of opponents! To whet your appetite and to sedate his … a trio of fierce orc combatants in full battle gear!"
Foster studied the three orcs forced into the cage, relieved to find no familiar faces. They were indeed dressed in armor; one brandished twin wicked looking broadswords, the second had a large shield strapped to one arm and a mace in the other, the third hung back slightly, Foster guessed him to be a distance fighter or a healer. Knowing the outcome before the orcs shouted "Lok'tar Ogar!" and charged, Foster turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. The sound of death screams and the clatter of armor filled the air. Something warm splattered him and he didn't have to look to know it was blood or other life fluids. Too soon there barn was quiet except for the disgusting sounds of Zalashji enjoying his first meal in weeks. In the back of the crowd Foster could hear some of the spectators vomiting outside the barn.
Zalashji let out a grunt and there was the sound of ripping metal. "I do hate when my food has to be shelled first before I eat it," the naga said with a barking laugh. After several minutes he finished his meal and used his tail to brush the remains off to the side of the cage. "More," he hissed. Risking a glance at his master Foster saw the cobalt scales smeared with crimson, the naga's snout was also completely covered in blood. The serpent tongue busy cleaning it off.
"All right," Gilbert said, "up next we have the Wheaton's combatant, straight from Stranglethorn, Jamzil the troll berserker!"
Foster studied the hulking form of a troll that was prodded into the cage by his armed sentinels. Troll berserkers were a bloodthirsty sect of trolls dedicated to the total annihilation of their enemies. They had many strange abilities bestowed upon them which make them all but unstoppable in the heat of battle. Berserkers were hardier and stronger than most trolls, effectively transforming them into a veritable whirling cyclone of death and destruction. Many scars marked his light-blue skin of this battle-hardened troll. A chain shirt of dark gray covered his muscular torso. The warrior carried several spears, which stuck out from a specially designed quiver strapped upon his back.
Zalashji let out a barking laugh. He said something in a language Foster didn't know but the troll did and his gaze filled with rage. "Slaaf, you know when berserkers are their deadliest? When they are at a distance from their enemy!" the naga shouted. Foster had seen the ripple of muscles so was not surprised as the troll was when the naga's tail lashed out and coiled around Jamzil's ankle and jerked him off balance. However, the troll quickly recovered and reached to grab one of his spears. Too slow, Zalashji was on him, his teeth clamped down on the broad neck of his opponent. More blood was splattered over Foster as he raised his hands to shield himself, he did not want to smell like troll.
Jamzil let out a death cry as the naga's talons ripped into his chest and Zalashji got the beating heart he desired. The crowd around the cage was divided between cheering at the grisly sight and booing at the brief fight. Gilbert let Zalashji feast for several minutes as winning bets were collected. Afterwards he rapped on the bars. "Ready for the main event?" he asked.
Zalashji looked up from where he was devouring the troll and let out a loud belch. "Already?" he hissed, "You promised me a banquet these have barely been appetizers!"
Gilbert let out a dark laugh and there was a motion of his hand. Armed guards appeared in front of the crowd.
Zalashji moved in front of Foster. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Just so you don't get any ideas," Gilbert said. "Stay back in that corner like a good lizard. All right boys raise it up!" The cage wall closest to Gilbert started to rise, pulled up by a pulley system Foster hadn't seen before. The doorway of the barn was blocked out by a giant bulking form; the ground shook from its footfalls. As came into the light Foster gasped. "Straight from Un'Goro Crater, something I picked up from a goblin," Gilbert said, "a Devilsaur!"
Foster had only read about such creatures in grade school. It was three times as large as Zalashji. He wondered what kept the beast from turning on the crowd and noticed a dark skinned dwarf walking along side. The stout man made a motion with his hand; the Devilsaur ducked down its massive head under the raised wall and stepped into the cage. With a loud crash the barrier shut behind it. The men outside quickly secured the joints.
"Finally," Zalashji said, "finally a real challenge … you bought this beast to defeat me?"
"You're getting too expensive to upkeep and bossy," Gilbert said with a shrug. "If you defeat it, you'll pay for your keep and if it eats you and your slut then I'm free to exploit the beast … it won't backtalk me."
"So our partnership is coming to an end," Zalashji said, "so be it. Free the beast's mind hunter let me have the full primal fury!"
The dinosaur let out a fearsome roar which was echoed by the naga who charged. Foster did not hide his eyes from this battle; he knew whatever the outcome it would be epic. Zalashji dodged under the massive teeth that could have taken his head off in one bite. The giant reptile whipped around his tail catching the naga in the chest and knocking him back against the bars. The whole cage shook. His master quickly recovered and charged again, moving with speed Foster had only witnessed a couple times when they jousted.
The manacle around his neck grew taut as someone tugged on the chain. Foster ignored it but happened again. Glancing behind him he wondered who had a death wish and had the ability to breath taken from him when he found the eyes of Carlin Redpath, underneath a large hood. Foster stared at the man from his life before like he was seeing a ghost. Carlin shouted alongside the other rowdy crowd as his foot again tugged at Foster's chain. What was he doing here? Foster frowned, his heart starting to race. It wasn't safe for his old friend. When Zalashji turned his back on him, Foster crept closer to Carlin. It took a couple of moments but soon he was kneeling next to the man. From underneath the large cloak Carlin wore a couple of hands appeared and in the fingers was a small piece of wire which expertly worked on the lock of the shackle until it clicked free. The hand squeezed his shoulder and disappeared back under the cloak as the whole cage rocked again. Zalashji had knocked the dinosaur off its hind legs and it was clawing into the ground as it struggled to right itself. Foster looked away from the fight and back to the Carlin only to find him gone. He would have accounted the whole thing as his imagination but the collar was loose upon his neck. What purpose had this served, he crept slowly back to his old place leaving the collar on. It seemed prudent to wait and see at this point.
He ducked as Zalashji flew over him crashing into the cage wall. The dinosaur had gotten lucky and one of his large feet had kicked the naga away. However, by the amounts of blood pooling in the cage, Foster had to imagine the naga had already mortally wounded the beast. As the naga recovered and charged again, Foster noticed a trio of bloody stripes down Zalashji's chest. The Devilsaur let out another fearsome scream that was silenced when the naga stabbed his talons into its chest and ripped out its heart. As the naga fed there were angry shouts outside the cage, seemed a majority of people had bet on the dinosaur.
Something wet was thrown on his lap; he looked down at the bloody piece of muscle. Zalashji barked at him as he tore off a chunk from the still twitching beast. "A morsel for my slaaf, eat up!"
Foster looked at it with disgust, he couldn't really mean it. The naga slithered over to him and picked up the piece of heart. "Eat it," he was ordered again, offering him the offensive flesh.
"Naga," a voice said from behind, "get away from my boy!"
"Gentlemen, appears we have a last minute entry!" Gilbert shouted above the angry crowd. Foster noted fear in his voice … seems the mob was not happy about losing tonight. "He says he'll take the place of the dinosaur in your wagers."
"He's just man!" Someone shouted.
"He's more than just a man," Gilbert said, "He's the sire of our previous champion!"
Foster looked at his pa, a range of emotions threatening to overwhelm him … hope, humiliation, love, fear … Zalashji ran hand down Foster's hair as the door closed behind his father. "Interesting," he hissed. "Your sire … he does have your eyes … well what yours eyes looked like before you submitted."
"I said get away from my son!" His pa shouted as he charged. The naga went to coil his tail around Foster but he wasn't there. Freed from his collar he raced for his father. A hand brushed his cheek before continuing his charge. From above a gleaming halberd was dropped by unseen hands. It landed with a thud in the dirt in front of his father, who picked it up as he attacked the naga. The weapon surprised Zalashji and his father managed to bring the weapon down across the naga's chest before springing back out of the way.
Growing up Foster had heard tales of the time his father spent in the military, though he only served a short time his name was well remembered in the forces of Stratholme. For the first time Foster was seeing why. His father danced around the naga the halberd an extension himself, attacking but keeping away from the deadly talons. Zalashji though had centuries on his opponent and his tail whipped around catching his father in the side knocking him away. As the naga charged to press his advantage Foster stepped in front of him, blocking the attack.
"Slaaf, what are you doing?" Zalashji hissed.
"Using what you taught me," Foster said, "to defeat you."
"Insolent hatchling!" the naga growled as it brought his massive arm down. Foster blocked the attack like he'd done a hundred times before and easily evaded the following strike from the tail. A flash of silver appeared from under his arm as his father brought the halberd up burying it in the naga's chest. Zalashji let out a roar and wrapped his arm around the weapon jerking it out of his father's grasp. Pulling the weapon from himself he used the blunt end to knock Foster aside. "Mine!" he shrieked.
His scream was echoed by those outside the cage. "The roof is on fire!" someone shouted. The following moments were chaos; there were the sounds of gunfire. Familiar scales wrapped around him and Foster was pulled into the coils of the naga as smoke filled the barn. It was burning quickly. Zalashji charged the wall that had been attached to the pulleys; one blow from the naga it flew off its hinges and crashed to the ground. The naga still carried the bloody halberd and used it to knock aside the armed guards that approached. Slithering outside the naga looked around and saw Gilbert running toward his house, shifting his hold on the halberd he threw it. Foster watched it arch through the sky and come down, spearing Gilbert through the back. "Our partnership is over, human," the naga hissed as it started spiriting away Foster still trapped in its coils.
Foster watched as his father raced out of the burning barn, their gazes met and he chased after them. If they had been in the water Foster would have been lost, however they were crossing a field of grass. Suddenly there was a loud cry and the sound of flapping wings. In front of the naga landed a group of large griffons, their riders, dwarves, plus Carlin who slid off from the back of a griffon and took his shield down.
"Naga, drop my son and I'll let you go," his father said.
The naga hissed and looked around at the group, his hand pressed against the wound in his chest.
His father looked over at Carlin, "the fire was a nice touch, though a bit of warning would have been nice."
"That wasn't us," Carlin said, "We freed Foster, dropped the halberd and got out like you order."
"Then who?" his father said.
In the moonlight a large mass of bodies separated itself from the grass and the griffons let out nervous cries. "Lok'tar, brother!" Skang said as he approached a crude spear in his hand.
"By my beard," Harggan said, "we're surrounded by orcs …."
"Don't hurt them!" Foster shouted and then repeated the same command in orcish.
The ground underneath the naga began to rumble as giant roots wrapped around his tale and crept up his body. Zalashji let out an angry cry. "Release the human," a new voice said.
Foster looked over at orc that stepped forward, he had dark black hair and brilliant blue eyes.
"He's mine or no ones," Zalashji screamed as he turned bringing his teeth down. There was bright flash of light; Foster could feel the heat from the attack which sent the naga flying one direction and him the other. Griffons took to the sky as the naga was knocked through them. A group of orcs chased after the naga; Foster found himself being pulled into his father's embrace. Carlin draped a cloak over his naked body as the orc that had saved him walked forward.
Foster's father moved protectively in front of his son. "I mean you no harm, human," the orc said in perfect common. "We came to this place to free the orcs before we left these lands. I too was once kept as sport to be watched." He looked over at Foster. "Don't let this time define who you are, use what you have learned to become what you were meant to be."
"Foster!" Nignath appeared and he wrapped his arms around her. They rested their foreheads together for a moment.
"You are free," he said.
"As are you," she replied. "They attacked while the match was going on, many humans have been killed. You should leave this place."
"Of course with you at my side," he said.
She smiled sadly at him. "Warchief Thrall received a dream; we orcs are to set sail to new lands. Our destiny lies beyond the great water." She gestured over to the orc stranger who was watching them with sadness and understanding in his eyes.
"I will go with …"
She held a finger up to his lips. "You would not be welcomed," she said. "I and my brother and uncle would protect you with our lives but hatred for the humans is deep …"
"I hope someday that may not be true," Warchief Thrall said, "however, she is right, if you remained with us it would be a death sentence."
"What about the baby?" Foster asked. Thrall raised an eyebrow at the question but remained silent.
"He will be well loved," Nignath said. "He will be told great stories of the battles his father fought and of the love he gave."
Foster wiped a tear from her cheek. "Please …"
She grabbed the hand in hers. "What of your brother?" she asked. "Your destiny is a different path than mine."
"Nathaniel didn't make it home?" Foster asked, hoping perhaps that that weight had been removed from his heart. His father shook his head.
Foster nodded, an old resolve setting in. His stood and embraced Nignath. Her strong arms wrapped around him. "May the Light watch over you all … goodbye, beloved."
Nignath muffled a cry as she hurried back over to the orcs. Skang and Kobug wrapped an arm around her, as they called back their goodbyes to their brother. Thrall studied Foster a moment longer. "The orcs that chased the naga returned, said he escaped into the ocean to the south."
Foster nodded that he understood but seem incapable of much more. The strong arm of his father wrapped around him and together they watched until the orcs disappeared over the horizon.
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Brothers