Demonic Embrace

Author Note: So, I decided to start writing these little notes at the beginning as a way to respond to any comments/reviews, as well as propose any questions to you, the readers (of which there are apparently hundreds). I guess I'll also give a heads up on whether or not the chapter has sex, since I'm sure some of you just want the smut...but who doesn't? ANYWAY, no sex this chapter. Deal with it. I gave you naked Night Elf last chapter, be grateful! Gawd...

EDIT: Many apologies; it seems as if I have to change how I denote Demonic as opposed to Common. The site decided to make it blank with my method...it's fixed now, though. Sorry, sorry.
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Dareum’s situation had improved, if only slightly. After coming to terms with the fact that no one was apparently looking for him, the warlock had solicited Aezlek’s help in preparing to travel west to Kalimdor. They’d assembled a rather crude raft, which Dareum accepted just so he didn’t have to swim very much as they looked for an island closer to the mainland. Once the collection of tree trunks was prepared, he and Aezlek gathered some food for the human and shoved off from the diminutive island.

A combination of natural ocean current and Dareum manipulating the craft’s path via magic had them land on a second, larger island to the west. By raft, unfortunately, had started falling apart by then, and its two occupants swam to shore, watching their hard work drift out to sea. It was depressing to say the least.

“But at least we’re a little closer to Auberdine.” Dareum smiled, channeling all his energy into staying optimistic.

“Yay.”

The incubus hardly shared his master’s good mood, however strained it was. Dareum’s face and spirit sank before the two started to set up a new, makeshift shelter on this second island. The shelter evolved into something reminiscent of a hut, supported by walls made of bundled branches. A primitive roof of thick leaves and thatch kept the inside of the hut somewhat shaded and protected. The entire structure was round, being just wide enough to allow Dareum to lie down as he slept, which he planned to do.

Before he got the chance, something wet hit the bridge of his nose. Dareum rubbed at the spot, looking at his finger tip and seeing tiny droplets of water. A second wet bullet landed on the top of his head, and then a third on his shoulder. The warlock looked up at a grayed, dull sky, heavy clouds converging overhead. The rain had started to come down faster, pelting everything in sight. Aezlek finished laying the last piece of cover on the hut as Dareum rushed inside. He sat at the far wall, drawing his knees around him to give his demonic companion enough space to do the same. Aezlek sauntered in calmly, unaffected by the rain, but sitting in the hut regardless.

“We really have the best of luck.” Aezlek mused, laughing coldly when he was finished.

“It’s just a little rain. You’re not going to melt, right?” Dareum snickered, smiling dryly.

“Why would I melt? You’re the witch.”

“Warlock.”

“Is that any different from a witch, besides having a penis?” Dareum sat in silence for a moment at this, racking his brain for a decent answer. He hated being outsmarted by Aezlek, but he’d grown accustomed to conceding to the incubus every once in awhile.

“Not really, I guess. Witches are usually more cauldron-oriented, you know? Herbs and poisons and eating children, things like that.” Before Aezlek could offer his assuredly snide reply, Dareum spoke up again. “And no, I’ve never eaten children. Bastard.” Aezlek laughed at the insult, showing his fanged smile for the first time that day.

“Did I ever accuse you of being a baby-eater?”

“No, but you were thinking it fairly loudly.” Dareum grinned and Aezlek laughed again. The warlock almost didn’t notice how cold the island was getting from the rain or the few drops that were managing to sneak their way through the roof. At least, he could ignore them as long as he kept focusing on something else, with the only other object of interest being Aezlek. It was good that they could stand each other, or the night might have been stretched unbearably long. The two sat happily, prepared to wait out the storm.

Dareum wasn’t sure how long he’d been sleeping. His eyes opened slowly into darkness, seeing virtually nothing but what the filtered moonlight shown on. Rain was still falling, but it was slower now, creating a gentle, showering noise through the trees behind the hut. Dareum pulled his body back to a normal sitting position, having leaned against the wall of the roof during slumber. Near the opening into the hut, he could see Aezlek, head propped against the side of the roof and body stretched out on the ground. It was certainly odd, as Dareum recalled Aezlek explaining that incubi didn’t need sleep, but the warlock guessed that that didn’t mean they weren’t capable of it. He shifted and saw Aezlek stir.

“Mmm…what’s going on?” Aezlek’s eyes opened, blue glow offering little in the way of usable light. His head turned slowly, eyes focusing on Dareum in the darkness. He could see perfectly even if his master could not.

“Nothing. I just woke up, that’s all.” The human yawned, wanting to fall asleep again. He remembered that he’d been dreaming, but he couldn’t recall what it had been about. Maybe if he went back to sleep, he could catch the rest of the image. Aezlek looked around the hunt, noticing that he was taking up the majority of what was supposed to be sleeping room.

“Oh, sorry Dareum. Let me move, I don’t really need sleep anyway.” Aezlek pushed himself to standing, letting Dareum scoot away from the wall and lay down. The warlock rolled onto his side, facing away from the door, and rested his head on his hands. Aezlek watched him until he saw Dareum’s breathing begin to slow and deepen, signifying sleep. He walked out and away from the hut, arriving on the beach. His glowing eyes watched the waves, and then made there way to the shore. The sands had been rearranged countless times by the ever-moving waves, but something caught Aezlek’s eye.

He walked towards it, crouching down to examine the mark in the sand. It looked like a footprint. Aezlek glanced down at his own hoof-like feet and thought of Dareum’s normal human ones; neither matched the larger print. Two toes, roughly equal size, in an odd gait. Aezlek thought briefly, and then cursed under his breath.

This island had trolls.

Aezlek went back to the hut quickly, deeply relieved to find Dareum still sound asleep. Perhaps his mind was merely playing tricks on him, making him believe that there was some hidden danger on the placid island. Surely, if trolls lived here they’d have made themselves known by now. Aezlek continued to reason with his fears, trying to remain calm. He prayed to the gods that those prints had just been tricks. Something heavy hit the back of his head, and things got dark.


The demon woke up in a wooden cage and was instantly assaulted by the smell of trolls. All trolls smelled, especially to his supernatural senses, but these were barely civilized trolls, it seemed. A few were standing around the cage, looking at Aezlek with painted faces and fiery eyes. They spoke around their tusks, first at him and then at each other. Of the Azerothian languages, Aezlek only knew Common, and thus hadn’t the foggiest idea what they were saying.

He stood up in the cage, realizing that his hands had been tied behind his back at the base of his spine. It made standing difficult, but not impossible, and Aezlek was soon near equal height with the trolls. His captors didn’t interest, as he was more concerned with making sure Dareum was unharmed. He looked passed the trolls and around the camp, seeing just how rudimentary things were.

The trolls possessed huts not much better than what he and Dareum had built, although they did appear to have the various items trolls crafted for use in their rituals. There were cauldrons and skulls and bones scattered about, some animal and some obviously higher species, but they were primarily Horde skulls. These trolls apparently didn’t have any allies. But trolls rarely did.

Finally, he saw Dareum, trapped in a similar cage. The warlock was still sitting, backed into the farthest corner from trolls who were taunting him. His robe had been removed, leaving him in black shirt and pants. The trolls were poking at him with their stone spears, laughing in harsh voices. Dareum looked less scared than he did angry, wanting to blast the trolls’ heads off. He was clearly struggling against the binds keeping his wrists behind his back.

A troll started speaking in a commanding tone. The ones tormenting Dareum ceased and turned, looking towards the large caldron near both cages. Standing next to the bubbling broth was bluish troll, decked in a ceremonial robe and sporting a mask made of bone. A gnarled wooden staff was clutched in one hand. He continued to speak, gesturing at the prisoners with the staff. His left hand reached into the robe and withdrew a cruel-looking, jagged knife, stained red. Aezlek and Dareum stared in unison; they were going to be sacrificed.

The trolls started to shout, suddenly coming from everywhere to converge on the cages. Aezlek’s was torn open, blue and green hands grasping at him. They pulled him into a sea of trolls, forcing him roughly towards the ceremony’s leader. The trolls were frenzied; Aezlek felt their claws scratch into him, drawing blood and forcing him to grimace. One of them tore a hole in his left wing, at which point he let a yell of pain escape. When the pain cleared, he found himself looking into burning, boiling green liquid, an acrid odor stinging his eyes. Trolls here holding him against the caldron.

To himself, he thanked the dark gods that dying in this plane meant nothing. He’d simply be whisked back to his home in the demonic realm until Dareum summoned him again. And then he noticed the knife, which the shaman had lifted Aezlek’s head to see. Runes, obscured partially by blood, were etched into the knife. Aezlek managed to read them, raising his eyes to glare up at the shaman’s mask. The knife was blessed, cursed, enchanted, whatever term the trolls favored to kill demons. Being killed by that knife would be the end of Aezlek. Period.

Dareum was shouting, trying to free himself from trolls that held him back. He’d already decided that they’d only try to kill a demon if they could actually kill him; he didn’t need to see the knife to think of that. It was useless, though. He was bound and the trolls were strong. All he could do was watch in horror as the shaman cupped a clawed hand around Aezlek’s chin, slowly lowered the crooked knife to the incubi’s tender neck.

A troll suddenly fell, gurgling madly and clutching at something lodged in its neck. An arrow had found its way into his jugular, spilling blood over the ground and filling the troll’s throat with the red liquid. Instantly, the trolls looked as one towards the edge of the camp. There stood a new troll, dressed in far nicer (by Horde standards) clothing and holding a well-crafted bow. Beside him were two Orcs and a lumber Tauren. Dareum and Aezlek gaped at the newcomers. Had their fate gotten better or worse?

One of the Orcs, a male clad in clunky mail and brandishing a heavy axe, charged forward with a roar. His troll targets rushed to meet him, some holding spears but the majority unarmed. The Orc crashed into the crowd, swing the axe with deadly power. He removed heads from bodies, arms from shoulders, and torsos from waists. All around him was bloody destruction.

Meanwhile, his troll comrade had started to fire more arrows into the throng of enemy trolls, caring little that they were of the same race. The Tauren, wielding a mace, took up the melee battle beside the warrior Orc, taking a break every few seconds to set a hapless troll on fire. The second Orc, and the only of his party to be in a robe, launched a glob of black nothingness towards a target; the attack was accompanied by a small fireball thrown from the hands of a little minion Dareum recognized as an imp.

A warlock! Even if the rest of the Horde would barely understand Common, he and that Orc would be able to converse through Demonic. All warlocks, regardless of allegiance, learned the language from a young age to better connect with their servants. It had the secondary function of tearing down a few of the boundaries between Horde and Alliance, and Dareum had never been happier that warlocks were forced to study the tongue. Having been released when an axe chopped through the last troll holding him, Dareum made his way to Aezlek, who had likewise been released. He skirted the battle, being sure to stay away from swinging weapons.

“Dareum! Are you alright?” Aezlek shouted over the din of battle, moving to meet his master. The human nodded, drawing close to the demon that pulled a wing around to cover Dareum. Dareum glanced around for anything they could use to sever their binds, eyes resting on the knife still clutched in a surprised shaman’s hands. Aezlek saw his gaze and understood. Before the troll could respond, Aezlek rammed into him, knocking him to the ground while goring into him with purple horns. The knife dropped from his grasp.

Dareum bent to it, carefully grabbing it with blind hands. Aezlek climbed onto the troll, pinning him down with unholy strength. The warlock moved his fingers deftly, working the edge of the blade against rope binds. He felt them begin to give and started cutting faster. The last fiber popped and he was free, binds falling to the ground behind him. Dareum set to work cutting away Aezlek’s, taking far less time now that he could move his hands normally. When Aezlek’s were cut, the demon set his hands around the shaman’s throw, beginning to squeeze the life from the troll. The troll started to struggle, gasping for breath. Dareum looked back towards the battle and saw that it was over, and more importantly, that the Horde members had started to inch closer to him.

“Aezlek, minor problem. I think the Horde might want that troll.”

“What?” Aezlek looked up, keeping his hands firmly clenched around his prey’s trachea. He blinked at the advancing party, not moving. Dareum nudged him nervously and Aezlek released the troll. The troll sputtered, trying to draw in breath desperately. Aezlek stood, stepped away from the troll, and pulled Dareum towards him. “Alright, they can have him.”

The Orc with the axe stopped next to the troll shaman. He glanced at Dareum and Aezlek, then back to the troll. After raising the axe above his head, he brought it back down, cutting neatly through the troll’s neck. Blood splattered across the ground, making Dareum slightly nauseous. Normally, he’d be fine, but the warlock still in panic mode about possible Horde capture. The Orc grunted something at him that Dareum failed to comprehend. Hastily, Dareum lapsed into Demonic.

'Please, we are friends! Can any of you understand me?' Dareum looked specifically at the Orc warlock, who looked at him quizzically. The Horde warlock spoke to the rest of the party before addressing Dareum in Demonic.

'Why are you here?' His accent was thick but understandable, much to Dareum’s relief. The human started to relax.

'We were on a boat for Auberdine when we were attacked. This is just the latest island we’ve been to as we’ve tried to get back to the mainland. Where is this, anyway?'

'These are the Echo Islands.'

'The…what islands?'

'Echo. Off the coast of Durotar?'

'We’re near Durotar?!' Dareum looked at Aezlek, who shared his shocked look. The warlock had severely miscalculated their position, unless the trolls had transported them while they were unconscious. 'Is…is there anyway we could get safe passage to Ratchet?'

'Ratchet is a long walk from here, human. It will be difficult to convince my own companions not to kill you; I cannot imagine pacifying all the Horde in Durotar just for you.'

'Well, uh, you all aren’t going to kill us, right? If you just help us get to the shore, we can take care of ourselves and pretend like this never happened.' Dareum subconsciously tried to back away, stopped by Aezlek’s hand on his shoulder. Such a retreat would do little to gain an Orc’s respect. 'I would be happy to pay you for the safe passage, of course.'

The Orc started speaking again, back into the language neither Dareum or Aezlek could make sense of. The other Horde spoke now, too, apparently considering what the fate of the human should be. From how the troll kept looking at Dareum and then brushing his fingers against the hilt of the sword, Dareum could tell that at least one of them was voting for his death. He hoped that the two Orcs would be the progressive kind who could tolerate peace with a human, and he cautiously assumed that the Tauren was as generally gentle as the species was said to be. The conversation ended and the warlock spoke again.

'We will help you get to shore, but no further.'

'Oh! Thank you!' Dareum bowed to the group, professing his gratitude first in Demonic and then again in Common. Aezlek didn’t bow, keeping wary eyes on the Horde. The Horde eyed him back, the only one appearing to be moved by Dareum’s display being the Tauren, who laughed heartily. Dareum stopped bowing and straightened. 'Please, lead the way.'

The group traveled across the densely forested island at a comfortable walk. The troll was at the front, followed by Dareum and Aezlek, who were accompanied by the Orc translator. The second Orc and the Tauren brough up the rear should the human and his demon decide to run or fight. They didn’t, even if Aezlek certainly wanted to rather than trust the Horde. Leaving the shade of the forest, they walked onto the beach. In the distance was the rusty shore of Durotar.

'Start swimming.' Dareum heard the Orc’s voice and obeyed, starting towards the water.