Moria, Forges The heat of this place is truly hellish. A wall of elemental fury that batters at all who would walk through the great arch in the wall. Dozens of fires along the walls creates this heat, as does the central kiln and the dozens of anvils manned by large and muscular uruks with long hammers. And the noise almost blots out any talk over roar: the ringing of hammers and the rush of the bellows. The clatter of the ore carts and the screams of orcs who have been burned. It seems that the only way to speak in this place is through a huge bell hanging in the corner, guarded by two giant orcs. The walls of this place rise up hundreds of feet until they vanish from sight in the darkness that shrouds the ceiling. Truly this hall is huge, stretching even to dwarf the greatest halls in the mountain. Yet woe betide to any who would stay in this burning abyss for long. You would know madness. Contents: Raugha Gurstaka Obvious exits: North leads to Armory East leads to Smith Commons South leads to Smithy West leads to Smith Storage for Ore and Wood The hustle and bustle of dozens of busy uruks all working for the good of the flame envelopes the forges in a kinda of mad energy. Sweating snaga by the score cart ore or carry loads of the weapons that hammerers forge out of good Morian steel. Gurstaka himself is on one of his inspections, flanked on either side by two of his subordinates. Weapons are stacked up along the walls, jagged scimitars in particular seem numerous. The uruks in the centre of the room pound furiously on their tasks, cruelly pointed daggers, arrowheads, maces, and various bits of armour churned out for the armies of the Flame. Gurstaka is talking animatedly to the uruk on his left, probably jabbering on about his displease on one subject or another A great shadow looms in the archway, cast in the backlight of the forges: huge, menacing, and bestial. And its source is no less formidable. Black claws rake the hot floor as the massive, ash-black figure of Raugha the Warg moves into the smithies, silhouetted ebon against the magma-red of the molten metal and the forge-flames. The Fell-Wolf's red eyes reflect the blazing intensity of the forge with stark ferocity. After several moments, Raugha comes to a halt. His nostrils flare as he inhales the scents of the forges: orc-sweat, ash, flame. The entrance of the shaggy one does not go unnoticed by the uruks of the forges. Snaga carefully work their way around him, careful not to invoke his wrath, as his temper is well known. Word quickly passes to the Master Hammerer, his red eyes questioning as he seeks out the Warg. Spotting the beast just inside the entrance, he mutters one last command to the uruk, waving his hand in the air to cut off the uruk as he tries to respond. Alone now he approaches Raugha, his hands held out openly in a gesture of greeting. "Master Warg, it has been awhile since I have had the opportunity to speak to you. I believe the last time was when I fought that weakling Khartzog for the honour of being the Master Hammerer. A good day indeed it was. So, what brings you down to my forges?" The Warg turns his head toward Gurstaka, nostrils flaring once more. He takes a thoughtful step toward the Master Hammerer, a dreadful black beast limned in the hellish light. "The Magog is dead." Raugha rumbles. "Have you not heard?" Gurstaka nods curtly at the warg's words, not flinching as the beast steps a little closer. "Indeed the news has reached me down here. Where indeed in Moria has it not reached? The implications are far-reaching. Moria will be in turmoil for awhile, I imagine." Gurstaka thoughtfully brings one hand up to his face, scratching idly."Magog was strong, one of the strongest Uruks I have ever met. One of the few uruks I greatly respected as well. But surely you do not waste your precious time bringing messages to the forges, Master Warg?" "Do not presume to know my business." Raugha replies coolly, breath hissing between his fangs. "But you guess well." The Warg's lips curve back, twisting into a teeth-baring parody of a smile. "Too well, perhaps." The Warg fixes the orc with his ember-red eyes. "So ... why have I come?" Gurstaka stares the Warg back in the face of his smile, his red eyes meeting the Wargs, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit. "I would not presume to know your business Master Warg. Your designs are far beyond a simple smith like myself. If I was to hazard a guess however, It would be this. Magog's death leaves a power vacuum under the mountain. Those who are quick, or strong, or both, have a lot to gain, and you are both, Master Warg. My guess would be that you seek allies. Tell me if I am way off track..." Gurstaka shrugs his shoulders, awaiting the Warg's answer. "You are absolutely wrong, of course," the Warg replies blandly. "I do all that I do for the greater glory of the Burning Master -- you would do well to follow my example." The creature's eyes narrow, fell smile deepening. "However. Evaluate the importance of these forges to Moria -- to the Fire Lord's cause." Gurstaka eyes widen slightly at the question, he's not used to people asking him such questions. "The Flame is my first boss, Master Warg. All other orders and duties are secondary to his service. Fear not that my loyalty could ever be swayed, I have been tested more than once..." Gurstaka ponders the second question for a moment "As to your other question, I am biased, but I say that the forges are probably one of the most important organisations under the Flame. Without the Hammerers, the Guards have no armour, the scouts have no arrows, the army has no weapons. I am proud indeed of the way that Forges have prospered under my care. I served under Narkhash all the way to Khartzog, curse his name forever, and I can honestly say the forges have never been in better condition. For the glory of the flame!" Gurstaka thinks deeply, his forehead creasing deeply at the Wargs words. "Nothing can be assured, Master Warg, but the Forges are not a large place like the rest of Moria, and in such confined quarters I doubt such things could be kept from me. I have many ears in place myself, I'm sure that if any such traitors were inside MY ranks they would have been located. I consider those ranking uruks under my command to be steadfast in their loyalty to the Flame and to myself. If any such thing was occuring, it would likely be among the ex Miner snaga, Morghash scum mostly. They are almost fully under my boot however. Gurstaka focuses on the beast he is talking to again. "Have you any information of traitors amonst my ranks, Master Warg? You have my full co-operation if you believe that it is in the Flames interest to take any steps amongst the Hammerers. "Morghash scum, hrrr?" Raugha's lips twist back once more, baring his fangs. "I care not a bit for your petty tribalism, orc. Are not the Morghash servitors of the fire also? It is clear to me that there are ... problems." The Warg's eyes widen. "You must atone for the words that you have spoken against the Morghash this day ... solidarity in the Flame's service is the only way that we may resist the traitors." Gurstaka scowls now, his good humour starting to evaporate under the Wargs continued finding of fault. "The Morghash tortured me unmercifully when I first joined the hammerers and Morghash controlled the forges. Now look at the situation, a Thrakburzum leads the Smiths and Miners far better than any Morghash did. If you believe their are traitors among my ranks - and I agree it is possible, however unlikely - Then seek them out by all means, and punish them as you see fit. My loyalty is assured, if you wish to test it again I have no problem. The forges prosper under my leadership. If you see problems with my command, let it be brought up now. The Warg's tongue lolls out; he fixes Gurstaka with a skeptical glance. "The faith of your orcs must be fortified," he intones. "You will have a sacrifice performed by immolation, in order to strengthen your hammerers' resolve." Gurstaka nods his head agreeably to the Warg, his scowl disappearing once again as the Uruk's mood swings more. "Sacrifice by Immolation in the honour of the flame eh? A reasonable request, Master Warg. I would be glad if you would choose the time and place for this display. Gurstaka rubs his chin "Did you have anyone in particular in mind for this show of the Flames power, Master Warg?" The Warg utters four death sentences carelessly. "Two of your most worthy, as their eternal reward, and two of your least worthy, as their eternal punishment. I expect neither tribe will be ... shown undue kindness, either in acknowledgement of service, or in purging of weaklings from its ranks." "So be it" Gurstaka matches the Wargs intonation. "The loss of two of my best will be painful, but no sacrifice is too great for the glory of the Flame. Gurstaka motions over his shoulder for one of his Muzgak, the warrior stepping foward fearfully. "Go to the mines. Bring back one low ranking uruk from each Tribe. Make it troublemakers. Also bring back one loyal supervisor from the Morghash. Take guards with you. Don't take no for an answer. Gurstaka now turns, his eyes resting on the Uruk who he was arguing with before. "Gratnash, my loyal friend, I lay upon you the great honour of the Flames blessing. Sensing his meaning two smiths grab by the Muzgak by the arms, even Gratnash's great strength is not enough to break free. 4 Uruks, Master Warg. Two Morghash, Two Thrakburzum. I hope that is sufficiant for you. In the mean time can I offer you refreshment? Meat perhaps..?" Horvak enters the forge. The troll pants. Clearly he is tired from a long exertion. "Gasp! Gasp! Where is the Master Hammerer? Where...is that little rat? The horde awaits...we march to find the traitors and half my army needs their weapons repaired!! Where is he?" *THUMP!* The troll flops to the ground to rest. "It would be wrong to take refreshment at such a time," the Warg replies harshly. Then ... THUD. The Warg spins, teeth bared. "Who comes into the forges?" he rasps. "Is it loyal, or foe? Or -- troll?" Horvak breathes deeply. "Ah good warg. I was wondering where you were. I am in need of a scout for my horde. In fact, I declare you Master Scout. My first act as King. As for you, Master Hammerer, the horde needs you and all you hammerers to repair equipment. You will do so now. Or I will dismember you limb by limb and you can teach you apprentices from a cart. Are we clear? Gurstaka secretly rolls his eyes to himself. Its not enough that he has Raugha sticking his pointy snout into his business, but now he has a large and apparantly irate troll panting and wheezing on his floor. Not his day apparantly. "Somebody bring ale for our guest" he calls out over his shoulder, tapping one foot idly on the ground as he awaits the return of his sacrificial lambs. "Great One, it is rare that we have the pleasure of one of your kind in the forges. I am the Master Hammerer, Gurstaka.... Gurstaka is then interupted by the ramblings of the troll over his own voice. Blanching slightly at the Troll's words, he looks as if he is going to object, but then apparantly thinks better of it. "I believe such arrangments can be made, Great One. How long do we have to prepare what we will need to serve your wishes..? "Ah, yes. Magog's dying request." The Warg untenses slightly, recognizing the voice. Horvak eyes bulge and he roars, "I am your King. You will address me as your majesty! Now, you will move now and join the horde south of Dale." The troll looks about for something nearby. A chair. He grabs the chair and tosses it at the Master Hammerer. Horvak attacks you with his Bare Hands!... ...and he hits! Ouch! ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Horvak's attack... ...you have 72 left. Please RP this injury accordingly. <OOC> Horvak says, "Assume that was the chair" The chair flies through the air the improvised missile weapon's trajectory sending it straight at the Master Hammerer. Cursing under his breath Gurstaka swats aside the chair out of the air with one arm, the chair shattering as it impacts with the stone floor of Moria. The impact of the weapon jarring the warriors arm cruelly. No sign of pain does he show however. Just then, a cringing snaga approaches the Olog-hai, offering up a Keg of the Hamerers finest brew. Regaining his composure, Gurstaka straighens himself up again. "As you wish, Your Majesty" is all he says, before looking apologetically at the Warg. "I'm afraid the sacrifice must be postponed until after we are on the march. There is much to do. Raising his voice so that it echoes throughout the forges, Gurstaka calls out to those under his command. "By the Kings order, we march to war alongside the Horde! Gather what is needed! None are to be left behind! We leave within the hour!" Gurstaka lowers his voice again, so that only those nearby can hear it. "Tell the guards to watch the chosen four carefully. As soon it is convienient, they are to be given the punishment, or reward as per the Warg's request Raugha straightens, falling silent, watching Horvak thoughtfully. He does not speak. Horvak roar again, "Move!! Move!! Move!!" With your permission, your Majesty, I will hurry them up myself. He turns to address the Uruks preparing for their journey. "Any who I see slacking off will either be joining these four in the glory of being sacrficed to the Flame, or I will give you to the King as a present. Get your lazy no good rear ends into gear, NOW! The Forges become a hive of activity as uruks of all ranks, from lowly snaga to well trained Muzgak grab weapons, armour, load anvils, smithing hammers, all the tools of the smithing trade. The miners are already beginning to group outside, ready to carry the heavy loads to only the Flame knows where. Once again Gurstaka surveys it all, quick to lash out at those who are too slow. The Warg turns. "My place is not here." he whispers, and starts off toward the exit from the forges, moving swiftly and silently. Horvak looks slightly confused by the Wargs words, but shrugs. "We move now. Join the horde with all possible speed. Now we go." The troll turns away, then stops, "And if you are late Gurstaka, I will eat one of your appendages. I will let you own smiths vote as to which one I eat. Any of the five you have of course..." The troll leaves, "Come Raugha we hunt..." "Six," the Warg rasps. "Six appendages." His tongue lolls out slightly, conveying a certain wry humor, as he moves into the entryway arch to leave. |