***** Author's Note *****

Be advised: This chapter contains content that may be distressing for some. Read at your own discretion with the tags/rating of this story in mind. If you do not want to read such content, a summary of important plot details is available at the end of the chapter.

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62

A solid wall of heat blasted outwards as light filled the whole clearing, accompanied by the agonizing roar of Frogblood's victim. The rain of sparks and glowing coals ignited the sap spread across Ar-Tashk's injuries, making his whole vision turn white with pain. The burning bits clung to his skin, almost as if burrowing deeper into the raw flesh and eating into his stony hide. The smell of burning hair accosted the olog's nostrils as portions of his mane were consumed into nothing but ashes. Nerve endings flared in spiteful curses like nothing Ar-Tashk had ever experienced before. He kicked and lashed out blindly, clawing at molten heat trying to engulf his shoulders, only to pull them back with the fire clinging to his fingertips as well. Then the blade struck.

The inevitable eruption of flames that sprang to life across the Reaper's back was more than Frogblood could have hoped for; that stupid she-slave had played right into his hands, falling right into the same stupid patterns of behavior all slaves and slave-lovers usually did. It had been a simple matter to exploit her feminine pity for her own captor against the olog, literally handing her the means of crippling him while putting it into her head that it was a peace offering. It wouldn't have mattered if she chose to side with Frogblood, or rejected his offer as she had, so long as the olog trusted her to treat his wounds, it was to be his undoing.

"THIS IS FOR KU-GOHN, YOU FECKIN' TROLL! I'LL EAT YOUR BLOODY ENTRAILS IN HIS NAME!" Frogblood howled with self-righteous fury as he slammed the Reaper's own short sword into the olog's flank, narrowly, but precisely avoiding the flaming goo that was splattered all up and down his back. The sword glanced off the calloused hide but eventually found purchase between the portions of natural armor in the softer flesh. Gashes and lacerations formed with each strike allowing more and more blackened blood to spill forth from the Reaper's skin, as if forming a dark cloak of his own viscera trailing to the ground around him.

The rage-fueled hatred in Frogblood's eyes had been replaced by a giddy madness as he drank in the sight of the olog writhing on the ground before him. No muscle or bone would be left whole by the time he was finished. He would hack the brute to pieces, tear him limb from limb to make him pay for his blood brother's death! The glow of the fire eating its way through the olog's flesh sizzled and popped deliciously as the Mokob-hai sap did its foul work. Blisters formed and charred before Frogblood's eyes, bringing him a cruel satisfaction. The orc's entire world was absorbed in this single moment, the haunting Voice of his brother screaming triumphantly within Frogblood's skull with each strike of the blade. The dull thundering cries of the olog were but echoes compared to the thrill and power the orc held over him. However, so deep was Frogblood's hatred, so enraptured he was with revenge, all his senses so consumed with destroying the Reaper, he failed to see the olog's fire-mitted hand dart out, to catch the blade mid-swing.

"Naaaar... Isss...la..." Ar-Tashk's low rumbling voice was faint, nearly lost among the snarls from the orc who tried to yank the blade from his grasp, only for Frogblood to be pulled backwards by a pair of pathetic hands seemingly trying to draw him away from his target.

"S-stop!" Alaesia's feeble cry, made in a moment of panic and duress, barely made Frogblood twitch an ear, but she pulled as hard as she could, with her arms wrapped under his, almost not even knowing what had compelled her to intervene in the first place. The moment the fire ignited, Barbaurak's grip on her chain had faltered almost as if in shock, and before Alaesia knew it, she was in the midst of attempting to wrestle an orc away from his kill.

Frogblood snarled, trying to shrug Alaesia off his shoulders, but he stumbled backwards as his feet became entangled within the shackles and chains that both he, himself, and she were bound in. Orc and human slammed into the ground together in a cloud of dust and smoke. In that unlucky moment, the short sword had been robbed from Frogblood, still held in the olog's iron grasp as he continued to writhe while aflame. Sparks scattered into the air behind as Frogblood threw his elbow back, slamming into Alaesia's gut, finally causing her grip to release from around his chest with a choking gasp. The orc scrambled to get up, fighting still against the coils of chains that were interlocked from the scuffle, and pounced upon his own assailant.

"YOU DARE TOUCH ME?! YOU DARE ATTACK AN ORC?!" Frogblood screeched and latched his claws into Alaesia's throat. He threw his whole weight into the grip, bearing down, while spittle flew from his lips. The breathy squeal that escaped her lips as his legs clamped around her waist evoked a foul feeling of power within the orc; of course she would react in such a lascivious way, used and trained to crave orc flesh. He scowled in disgust. It was clear from the way she bucked, trying to use her hips to throw him off, that it was a position she knew all too well. And more importantly she had been made too bold by whatever orcs had used her not punishing her well enough. She actually had the gall to lay her hands upon him! "FILTHY PINKSKIN BREEDER! YOU SHOULD BE CULLED!"

In an instant, the green orc before Alaesia's eyes was replaced by the familiar, all-consuming memory of the late overlord of Nurn. Vezhir had learned quickly during his assaults just how much he enjoyed squeezing as much life out of Alaesia as he could without killing her outright. So many times more than Alaesia could count, he left her in a state of oxygen-starved delirium, then forced himself upon her in the most agonizing ways possible; the thought of which sent a bitter cold shock into Alaesia's stomach.

Visions of Vezhir's great yellow eyes, glowing with lust and hate, flared wide before her. She could almost hear his sibilant crooning and malicious moans whispering in her ears. The prick of the uruk's claws dug deep into the flesh of her throat and the muscular weight of his body pressed to pin hers to the ground. All wind had been cast from her lungs, making her mouth gape in silent protests, both of the horrible memories and that of the real threat Frogblood held over her.

The fetid creature's sweat and spit fell upon Alaesia, filling her nose with the stink of orc. The roughness of his callouses, the roughness of leather and metal, the tension in Frogblood's muscles all worked in sync to force her to submit. He held her life in his awful hands now, and the wretched fury behind his manic façade was demanding she accept her fate.

Every fiber of her being was in discordant disagreement; part of her was pleading that she would just let the slaver captain choke her into blackness, as if it might mean he'd spare her at least her life as the overlord had, but a part of her knew Frogblood had no intentions of such mercy. His grip upon her scarred throat was a death grip.

For a hazardous moment, Alaesia's mind tangled with the idea of just letting it happen. Why did she even care that much? Over and over her heart had flipped back and forth between letting death have her and doing everything in her power to survive. Why was it so hard to just close her eyes one last time?! She wasn't some brave Gondorian solider like her father, or even a stoic and level-headed survivor like her mother. Was she just a coward too afraid to end it all? Why couldn't she simply bring herself to let this orc, the uruk overlord, or even Ar-Tashk himself just snuff her life out? It would be so much simpler. None of her suffering would have occurred if she just had the nerve to let fate befall her! That devilishly quite voice at the back of her mind whispered quietly, urging her to let go.

No! She couldn't let such thoughts consume her! Not now! Not again! It was either die at the green orc's hand or find the will to fight back, now. Perhaps it was just the slow loss of air finally making her deranged, or maybe having seen him daunted by Ar-Tashk's presence, but something in her mind finally snapped. It was the silliest of thoughts, thinking she could have a say in who would finally kill her, but falling victim to the slaver's hand sent an unreasonable jolt of defiance into her gut. She had survived far worse beasts that this swamp-breathed orc couldn't dare to match! She had come so far, why should this hateful beast be the one to get the pleasure of taking her life?!

Even as her vision was starting to fade, Alaesia's hands were searching and scratching wildly around her, trying to find something, anything to resist Frogblood; a rock, a sharp bone, anything would do, even just a handful of dirt just to throw in his arrogant, vomitous mug. However, before her fingers could grasp anything, a sharp stinging sensation suddenly engulfed her palm as a few sparks from the fire made contact with her fingertips. It felt as if her had was being stabbed through by a million blades all at once! The sudden searing pain was so all-encompassing, she almost felt as if her body couldn't possibly be her own; a pain so great it seemed to sever her mind from her own limbs in the ensuing shock.

If only she could pass that agony to Frogblood...

The green orc panted heavily, gripping tighter and tighter as the human woman wriggled and tried to weakly resist his grip. Her interference was merely a hiccup he hadn't even thought to account for in his plans; defenseless as she was, he hadn't even considered she might actually try to stop him, especially not after his sly efforts of instilling a proper sense of fear of her master into her! She should have been grateful he was going to kill the olog! Disgusting whore, he thought, twisting his claws around her throat and deepening the gouges he cut. Was she so addicted to the Reaper's prick, she would throw her own life away to protect him?!

As furious as he was at the human woman's interruption, she was nothing but an insect to be dealt with, before he would be able to get back to his real target. Her resistance, that vulgar twist of her hips under him, as if she was trying to entice and trick him into lowering his guard, as if he could be whipped just like her stupid master, was becoming weaker by the second anyways, Frogblood noted. His attention turned back towards the Reaper who had collapsed to the ground like a ragged pile of fuel pyre fuel. It would be his turn soon!

However, in the bright light flooding Frogblood's gaze, the orc failed to notice a second ball of fire swing up towards him until it was too late. Alaesia's hand, still covered in the residue of sap after treating Ar-Tashk's wounds whipped up from the ground as she swung with all the strength she could muster, and grabbed Frogblood's face.

Fiery sap latched onto the green orc's features like a parasite, immediately eating into the softer tissues around his eyelids, mouth, and nose. The slaver captain let out an unholy howl, throwing himself back in complete shock. There was nothing he could do, once it had attached itself, Mokob-hai sap was inescapable until it was burned up. His skin started to bubble and ooze, melting as the flames consumed the flesh where Alaesia's hand had made contact.

"YOU VILE BITCH! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" he screamed, grabbing at his face which only served to spread the flames more. A terrible char of red and black began to form in the meat of the orc's face, in the delicate, perfectly echoed shape of a human hand, smacked right across the center with two fingers striking directly into the unfortunate orc's eyes. It only took an instant for the orc to be robbed of his sight as his eyeballs boiled from the indescribable that dug through his eyelids.

But Alaesia herself was not faring much better. Though there was not much of the sap residue on her skin, it was enough to cripple Frogblood as well as herself, she couldn't escape the horrific sensation of her own flesh starting to cook under the heat that clung to her as well. She thrust her hand away, trying to bury and smother the flames in the dirt, but not even that could stifle it. Whether or not her last-ditch effort had succeeded in stopping Frogblood, she could barely bring herself to check. Everything around her seemed to be swimming in the warp of heat waves between the flames and haze of smoke. If the creaking wail she could hear was coming from her own mouth or the orc, she couldn't tell. All Alaesia wanted was for the pain in her hand to stop.

Just a few yards away, Ar-Tashk's eye cracked open, trying to focus on his surroundings. His pupil was contracted to a vicious, feral point, searching desperately for Frogblood. Every strike the orc had landed had left the olog stinging with more pain, but it couldn't compare to the nerve-biting burns of the sap. It was almost too much for even him to bear, and in his already exhausted state, he couldn't bring his head up to fully take in the situation. The orc had fallen out of view when Ar-Tashk had grabbed his sword, but... his Isla... He had seen her... running towards him and the orc... But where was she now...?

Spiteful of the blinding light and pain, Ar-Tashk tried to heave himself upright, only for the bite wound in his arm, now permitting the burning sensation to work its way deeper into his flesh, sent him back to the ground in a desperate scramble. A foreign feeling of dread and horror filled Ar-Tashk, never had he been at such a loss of his own strength and control; even when he had nearly starved to death in the Southern Wastes, he had still been able to muster enough willpower to hunt down his tormentors. They had only been able to pin him down through means of stealth and trickery, not by overcoming his brute force. The shuttering failure of his own muscles was a nightmare that Ar-Tashk couldn't wrap his mind around. Never had he ever felt utterly and totally helpless before.

Two voices crying out in simultaneous union grabbed Ar-Tashk's attention over the sound of his own flesh crackling, and he turned as much as his body would permit trying to find the source of the sound. Within the olog's broad fist, the blade of his own short sword dug deeper into his flesh as he gripped it tighter. Where was his isla...? His mind was racing in a disturbed sort of panic. He couldn't seem to focus his senses. Everything was scrambled and distorted. Had she tried to make another escape attempt? Was this whole attack some sort of diversion?

A feverish wave gripped Ar-Tashk's sense of balance, making the big brute brace himself in an attempt to regain his head. As he paused to shake the feeling of vertigo, flames still dancing around his shoulders, his eyes locked onto a single point through the smoke. If he could get his bearings, perhaps, he figured, it would allow him to steady himself at the least. But the thin dark shape he focused on made for a poor anchor. It wobbled before his very eyes, like a dancing silhouette in the flickering of the firelight. It shifted and swayed, causing the olog to sway as well, then formed the outline of what looked like an orc. He growled; if that stupid Snagaorsk had returned thinking he could take out the Reaper, he would find himself sorely mistaken!

Ar-Tashk hit the dirt like a boulder, blackness taking him swiftly before he could do anything more.

*****Summary To Skip Violent/Gory Sequence*****

Frogblood sets his plan into motion, having tricked Alaesia into believing Mokob-hai was a medicinal herb, while in reality, its sap is extremely flammable and sticky (more details on the plant are to come later). As Alaesia had used the sap to "treat" Ar-Tashk's wounds, Frogblood is easily able to light the olog on fire to render him incapable of defending himself. Frogblood begins hacking at Ar-Tashk with the short sword trying to finish him off as quickly as possible, and Ar-Tashk is completely at his mercy.

Without even thinking about it, in her shock and panic, Alaesia tries to intervene to protect Ar-Tashk, grabbing Frogblood and trying to wrestle him away. Even through his pain and delirium, Ar-Tashk does what he can to protect Alaesia, by grabbing the sword so Frogblood can't use it on her. Frogblood gets the upper hand and tries to choke out Alaesia with his bare hands. This brings back flashes of memories when Vezhir would choke her, nearly making her succumb to the attack. But she rallies after the residue of Mokob-hai on her own hand catches fire in the chaos and the pain jolts her out of the PTSD episode. She smacks Frogblood in the face with her hand, landing a direct shot into his eyes, spreading the flaming sap to him and blinding him in the process.

Ar-Tashk tries to regain his senses, looking for Alaesia, but the pain and loss of blood starts to overwhelm him. He sees what seems to be a hallucination of an orc, which he assumes is Frogblood, and tries to prepare to attack the silhouette, only to collapse, unconscious.

***** Translations *****

Pinkskin - Human

Naaaar... Isss...la… - Noooo… Isla… (Ar-Tashk's name for Alaesia, meaning lifemaker)

Snagorsk - Slave Thief (Ar-Tashk's name for Frogblood)