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

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55

Frogblood seemed unusually tense as he monitored Alaesia; she could feel his eyes on her, even if it was difficult to see in the low light of the warg den. They would have bore tunnels right through her if they could. The soft mutterings that escaped his lips on shallow breaths were difficult to make out, but more than once she caught the green orc sneering and spitting crass insults at her. But he seemed to be keeping his distance.

Alaesia wished more than anything that she could slip between the cracks in the den walls and slip away, but the once-slaver-captain seemed to be twitchy. Though he was sitting on an exposed tree root at the entrance of the den, he was positioned in such a way that he could easily spring forward to his feet should she so much as shift in the wrong direction. The short sword that he had once confiscated from Barbaurak now rested in his casual grip once again, granted to him by Ar-Tashk. Alaesia didn't quite dare to test his temper, after having seen him split Barbaurak's skull open once. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt he could inflict much worse damage on her, and the likelihood of surviving such an attack was next to zero. So Alaesia pressed her back against the far wall of the den, staring warily at Frogblood's silhouette perched at the tunnel entrance.

Frogblood could hear the human's heartbeat rattling like a bird in a cage. Slaves were all the same, pathetic, sniveling cowards, he mused humorlessly. It would be a delicious sound to savor if he didn't have precious little time to start working his plan into motion.

"Ya ain't got anywhere to run to, and no orcs is gonna interrupt us now..." his cruel tones made Alaesia shiver as he finally seemed to address her directly, "So let's 'ave a lil chat shall we?"

When there was no audible response aside from her breaths becoming shallower, and more nervous, Frogblood nodded approvingly. Good, least breeder's at least trained well ta bite her tongue. He didn't need her for information now, but she would still have her uses. And once she played her role, if she survived, he was certain he could find some other use for her.

"Methinks we got off on the wrong foot," Frogblood peeled his lips back in a grotesque facsimile of a smile. If Alaesia had been able to see it, it would have seemed to her, to be the smile of unhinged derangement. But his voice was deceptively welcoming, "Maybe let's try again, shall we? I'm Captain Frogblood... And you are...?"

When no response was offered, Frogblood slammed his short sword into the root he was sitting on and snarled, cracking through his sickly sweet tones, "ANSWER ME!"

The human curled up, wrapping her arms around her head as she squeaked out, "A-Alae-s-sia! My name's A-Alae-s-sia!" What is this orc playing at?! Her limbs turned as cold as ice at the instantaneous flip of Frogblood's personality, but now he was calm once more. The whiplash between moods made it clear he wasn't playing games.

"That ain't so hard, now is it, little pet?" He pulled the blade; the tug of breaking it free from where it has sunk into the root made his own shackles rattle. Even though he had chains and manacles like hers, she doubted it would do much to prevent him from harming her if he really wanted to. He seemed to notice her observing his chains, and he waved one with a raised hand, "See, I'm just as much a prisoner as ya are. We can all be friends here! I want ta escape, just the same as anyone else."

Her hand absently lifted to her cheekbone, to one Zathra had healed after this same green orc had smashed her face on the floor. It was obvious he was plotting something, the question was... What was his scheme? And why was he acting like they could be allies?

Alaesia swallowed hard, "W-what do y-you want from m-me...?" Zathra had once broken a promise for her freedom after an escape attempt; this green-skinned orc's demeanor wasn't nearly as silver-tongued enough for her to believe for one second that he would ever intend for her to be free if they worked together to escape. She was far too jaded to believe orcish promises were worth anything either.

Frogblood keenly noticed the gesture of the human carefully touching her old injuries, as his lips twitched, "Yer prolly still sore after our last... encounter, eh? But not as sore as tha' olog's gonna make ya if ya don't give 'im the slip soon. No one deserves a fate like tha' not even a breeder." He tutted his tongue pitiably.

Alaesia's stomach dropped at Frogblood's insinuation, "W-when...?"

Frogblood waved a hand nonchalantly, "Oh... Soon as 'e returns I wager. Yer in a den of carcasses, ain'tcha? Yer just one more 'e's gonna add to the pile when 'e's done with ya! Don't worry 'bout it too much. Maybe ye'll get lucky and 'e'll snap yer neck first."

"N-no..." Alaesia murmured, trying to fight past the rising bile in her stomach. Barbaurak's own foul musings rose to the back of her mind. Her hands trembled, even as her mouth tried to deny it. "Last n-night... H-he didn't... He s-stopped."

"BECAUSE HE'S SAVORING YER PISSING FEAR, YA STUPID SL-" Frogblood leapt to his feet, stomping a few steps towards her before stopping and trying to regain his composure. Her feeble and brief defiance made him want to rip her from belly to throat with his claws, but now wasn't the time. He had a plan. He couldn't afford to throw it out now. Alaesia's face was drained of color and eyes overcome with a thousand-yard stare that looked through Frogblood like he was a ghost. He scowled, slipping back to a placid tone, "Olog's ain't very bright. Hardly more than an animal. An' I've seen animals act one way, all nice 'n' tame one minute, then turn around an bite off their master's arm. I've seen water fowl rape their own kind in the river til their toy drowns. You don't actually think a beast like that olog master of yers ain't gonna stick yer through at some point? Especially when 'e been huntin' ya like a horny caragor? Yer on borrowed time, little pet! An' time is running out."

The human fell silent once more, probably the only thing that kept Frogblood from slitting her throat on the spot. That, and the Reaper would probably slaughter him on the spot if he were to harm his precious little slave. She had proven to have immense influence over the olog, barely needing more than a word to temper his bloodlust. That was exactly what Frogblood needed; Az-Korra's absolute obliviousness to the slave woman's leverage over him. Frogblood grunted, dismissing his extraneous thoughts; he needed to focus on one step at a time, "I'm proposing, enemy of my enemy, we work out a way to escape, together. I'll keep the troll's attention off ya, if ye'll do me just a lil favor. Whatta ya say?"

Clouds as thick as night stormed into Alaesia's mind. Turmoil spread like a lightning strike to her extremities in response to Frogblood's vividly macabre prediction. What if he is right...? her mind whispered. The bruises on her thighs throbbed as if protesting the near-assault of the night before. What... What if he hadn't stopped...? Was it really Ar-Tashk's plan? Had he just been dragging her along to enjoy her constant state of fear and anxiety, for his own sick pleasure, before he finally decided to kill her? Images flashed before her eyes of the numerous times the olog had ordered her to beg for her life, and how each time he had told her she would only die when he decided. How could she possibly think otherwise... Ar-Tashk had declared such things himself before.

Alaesia had to choke down her urge to vomit as her eyes passed over the carnage of the warg carcasses littered around the den floor. Am I soon to join them? The thought was thrilling, in a maddening, terrifying way. So many times in the dark, dank kitchen at the fortress back in Nurn, she had wished for death. She had craved it, hoping that each time that Vezhir had ravaged her, his violent ways and excessive length would make her bleed out. More than once Alaesia had felt the flesh tear when he had penetrated her, but the goblin witch had always dragged her back from the brink of death before the wounds could allow her to slip away.

If Ar-Tashk is going to... If he wants... Her mind didn't know whether to laugh or cry; it wouldn't even allow her to finish the thought for fear of losing herself in madness. There was no doubt in her mind, not even Zathra's magic would be enough to keep her alive; not if Barbaurak's morbid speculations of olog anatomy were accurate. Escape truly seemed to be the only chance she had, but how could she trust this green orc anymore than every other orc that had manipulated her...

Just as she was about to answer, Alaesia realized Frogblood was no longer sitting perched next to the den entrance. His shadowy form now loomed over her, and his hand shot out, grabbing her cheeks between his claws. Alaesia squealed as his nails scraped along the very same scars inflicted by the now-dead overlord, cutting a thin hair-like cut and tracing it along a scar that went from the hairline by her ear to her chin. She writhed and bucked, trying to shove the orc away, but he held her fast. Her hands flew to his wrist, desperately wishing she had the strength to deny him. She wanted to scream, wanted to flee, but just as always, she couldn't rival the built musculature of an orc. Her legs kicked out uselessly, scattering old shards of bone from some long-dead prey of the wargs across the cave floor.

"QUIT SQUIRMING!" He barked, raising his other hand as if reaching for the sword on his hip, "Yer gonna lissen ta me an' lissen good!"

Alaesia cringed, waiting for the strike, the feeling of the blade cleaving into her, but it never landed. Rather, his thumb, that same had inflicted the thin cut under her scar traced over the area again catching the tiny bead of blood before it ran down her cheek.

Frogblood's voice was cruel, cold, and commanding, "Yer gonna help me if ya wanna live. I'm yer ONLY hope of survival, ya got that? Either help me escape or let the olog cock ya til there's nothing left of ya 'cept scraps of yer flimsy hide... " He paused, as if regaining a hint of composure, "And as a gesture of goodwill, I'll even prove I can play nice with a fragile lil pinkskin."

Alaesia watched through cracked eyes as Frogblood's free hand reached into a pouch on the side of his belt, drawing forth a small bundle of fabric. It unraveled with a swift twist of his hand, showing a small cluster of plants that exuded a distinctly pungent smell unlike anything Alaesia had ever smelled before... and yet it seemed familiar somehow; she couldn't quite work out where it was in her memories. Why does that make me think of his ship…? Perhaps he had always carried the plant in his possession and she had caught a whiff of it when she, Zathra, and Barbaurak had been taken to his quarters? Somehow, that speculation didn't seem quite accurate...

While her thoughts raced, Alaesia jerked against Frogblood's grasp, not quite sure of what he was doing, until he dabbed the slightly wilted, damp greenery, with surprising softness, onto the cut he had just made. He clucked his tongue and hissed low, warning her to quit resisting as the viscous sap of the plant clung to her cheek, almost like honey. The immediate sensation of ice filled the injury, but was quickly absorbed into a numbing sensation that erased the stinging pain. Frogblood's eyes blazed with smug appraisal as Alaesia's own expression turned to that of surprise. "See, I can play nice... Feels better, don't it?"

Alaesia leered at the plant in his hand, as if deep in thought, her confused and conflicted expression not lost on Frogblood, "Looks like ye need some time to... consider my offer. Don't take too long though. But the troll ain't too happy with ya right now. Yer gonna have ta be a good lil slave and soften 'is temper, ya savvy?"

Frogblood seemed to be able to read Alaesia as clear as day, gauging the effect of each word he uttered with strategic cunning, "Then maybe, just maybe, ye'll survive the 'is attentions, that is if yer luck don't run out. Mayhaps I'll convince him ta at least spare yer life a lil longer. If yer still alive by nightfall, I'll be expectin' yer answer."

Frogblood shoved away from the woman and threw the rest of the bundle of herbs at Alaesia's feet. "Keep the rest... A gift from me. Yer gonna need more than just a bit of salve if you refuse."

His final words seemed to be laced with a subtle chuckle, no doubt amused at what brutal horrors she might endure upon the olog's return.

***** Translations *****

Pinkskin - Human