Ktarin

Moria, Trade Hall

Vast is this room, vast and long, its width and breadth nearly staggering, ceiling far above blackened by smoke and ash. And all around, uruks bustle about their business, which is business truly; merchant-orcs stack furs and leather from Goblin-town, wood from foresting expeditions is piled by foresters, and portly porters carry mined ore into bins and chests. The rough stone floor and walls are stained with blood, dark and red. The ancient dwarven statues have been defiled and sculpted over by the new masters of the place. Two large archways are set on both sides of the room, one of them chisled with dark runes. In the center of the room is a large pit with an iron grate over it. Harsh cries of piteous hate rise from below it and uruks stop near to throw their garbage in it once in a while. Very few torches line the walls of this room, giving very little light.

Contents:
Gurstaka
Brax
K�tarin

K'tarin scuttles quickly over to the Chieftain and kneels at his feet, head bowed. He fights to keep his composure as he quakes with fear."K'tarin quakes. "K'tarin not know much, master." He pauses, "...but K'tarin work hard. He work very hard and he learn fast, master. He be good worker, he do. He not eat much, not cause trouble. Promises!"

Gurstaka nods in respect to his chieftain as he is noticed, his red eyes taking an appraising look at K'tarin, much the same way one would inspect a cow or sheep they were planning to buy. "There is much work in the forges due to the recent activities, my leader. Any help we can get down there makes Moria that much stronger. I'm sure that I could find something... suitable for him to do down there, if that is what you wish, of course.

Turning back to Brax, he shrugs his shoulders "It is your decision, my Master."

[Brax(#15454)] The Chieftain grunts and looks down at the snaga again. After a momments thought he says, "Even a worthless snaga can be taught to hammer out a blade or dig for ore. They can even be taught to tan leather and brew fine ales. But something none can be taught is true Loyalty! Is Brax right??!!" His gave travels to the smith and the guards around the room. After a momment he says to the snaga. "To be taken into da folds of da mighty Thrakburzum and serve da Flame and our Tribe a snaga must be loyal above all else. Are you such a snaga?" Brax's red eyes peer hard into those of K'tarin, seemingly to burn into the creatures black soul.

The snaga, his arms flailing in wild genuflections, cries "Master, I be more loyal than any snaga you meet. I always do what tell me to. You say jump, I hit head on rock ceiling. You say Warg, I howl in moonlight. You say throw yourself on big anvil and pound K'tarin to death with hammer, I look for hammer big enough." He looks up at the Chieftain hopefully.

The corner of Gurstaka's mouth begins to twitch slightly at the snaga's words, but he remains outwardly stern. "I like his enthusiasm, my master. He reminds me of me, all that time ago." Turning the face Brax, he allows a smile to crease his lips. "I would be willing to teach him his place among the Thrakburzum should you find his worthy.

Brax nods, a glimmer of hope in the Cheiftains eyes. This snaga may prove to be worthy yet. His red gaze falls on that of his faithfull smith and he says, "It seems this one is willing to work and may prove to be worthy of wearing da Skull. He will be your servant, should he survive." Brax looks back at the snaga and says, "Gurstaka here will be your Master snaga, he will teach you da arts of da forges and you will serve him with your life. You will serve da Tribe with your life and... You shall serve da Flame with your life." Brax turns back to the smith and says, "Test this one's loyalty smith. Make sure he is worthy of wearing da Mark." Brax grins and steps back to the wall, removing a burning torch from the wall. With his other hand he pulls his Battle axe off from his back and rests it over his shoulder, the flame from the torch licking the black stone skull at the base of the handle of the axe. Brax watches, as both are now tested, the Master and the slave.

K'tarin trebles with fear as his eyes take in the sight of the burning torch and the ever-so-nasty-looking axe. "M-Master?" he quibbles, "I be good. I serve da master with my life, I serve da Tribe with my life, I serve de Flame with my life. What I do master? What I do?" His eyes never stray from the flames.

Gurstaka approaches closer the snaga, until he is but a few paces away from the quivering mass of flesh that Brax was nice enough to appoint to him. Looking down he grins, not a friendly one like he offered to his Master before, but one that offers a time of pain and torment, but eventualy, exultation.

"You speak of loyalty very glibly, little one, but I think that your mind has not fully comprehended what Brax offers you. If you accept his offer you commit yourself to a life of service. The rewards are greater than you can possibly imagine, but never lose sight of the fact that your body will belong to the tribe. Whatever the tribe requires of you you shall provide, should it be your hands, your eyes, your life, or even more. Your loyalty must not only be to me, your master, or to the officers, or even to Brax, for though Brax is the master of Thrakburzum, Thrakburzum is bigger than he is. Your loyalty must be unthinking. Are you willing to make the sacrifice? Are you willing to offer up your very being? Only the brave need apply, little snaga... what do you say?

[Brax(#15454)] The Chieftain sets back, watching both uruks silently as he turns the handle of his Battle axe in the bright flame of the torch. The pitch black obsidian stone skull at the end begings to glow a dull red from the heat. It seems to mock the snaga as the burning fingers of flame wrap around it.

K'tarin scampers over to Gurstaka and falls at his feet. "Master," he says, "My life for you! My life for Thrakburzum! If it help Tribe for me to cool de iron in my own blood, I bite open my wrist with own teeth! If it help Tribe for me to fertilize tree in forest, I dig hole and say 'Cover me up!'"

Gurstaka nods softly "I doubt it not little snaga, for I see within you the fire that I saw once within myself... even if it is buried deep within you.." taking a look back at Brax, he sighs. "Very deep indeed. Now snaga, a test to prove your loyalty. You have offered your being to the Thrakburzum, now I will test your body. Turning to the chieftain, he holds out a hand.

"Master Brax, I find him worthy to be tested. For this, I request the use of your dagger. I sense that this one will go far, and it is only fitting that the intrument of his testing belong to the strongest among us. May I borrow your blade, my Master, so that this may come to pass.

Brax nods and slides the torch back into the wall. He reaches down to his belt and pulls forth a wickedly curved dagger. At the hit of it is a small black skull, like that of his axe, only smaller. Brax flips the dagger in his hand and offers it to the smith. When it is drawn from his steel covered claw, sparks dance from the blade.

Gurstaka takes the blade reverently from Brax, his claws wrapping around the hilt confidently as he holds it before him. Turning, he holds the blade out at K'tarin. "This blade is the instrument of your test, little one. Be honoured that it comes from Brax himself."

Holding out the blade further he offers it to the snaga, still holding the hilt. "Take hold of the blade, snaga, and then I shall give you further instructions. Be strong, for this test is but nothing compared to what lies ahead of you... if your lucky that is.

Brax steps forward to watch the tst take place. the skull at the end of his axe still glowing and grinning. Waves of heat can be felt washing off of it even at a distance of several feet.

K'tarin reaches tentatively out towards the blade. Hands shaking with fright, he nearly cuts himself on the edge, but finally manages to grasp the smooth metal of the blade. He is visibly fighting to maintain control over himself as he grips the sharp knife.

Gurstaka smiles softly, noting how tentative the snaga is being. Narrowing his eyes, he barks out an order "Take it in the other hand, little snaga. Nothing worthwhile will be gained if you aren't willing to make the sacrifice! Impatiently he waits for K'tarin to obey his

K'tarin mumbles "Sorry master, sorry master." under his breath as he quickly grips the blade with his other hand.

Gurstaka smiles triumphantly, his eyes blazing red and flickering in the light of torches. "Now Snaga, grip the blade. Grip it so that your very blood flows upon the halls of Moria, and swear! Swear by the very thing that grants you life. Swear to us that the life now belongs to the Thrakburzum. His eyes watch carefully upon K'tarin's face, seemingly studying more than just the snaga's willingness to obey.

[Brax(#15454)] The steel claws of Brax drum a beat on the handle of the War Axe. The weapons echos the taps like little beats of the drums of doom in the night. tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap, The weapon always seems to sing when blood is about to be spilt. The Cheiftains eyes burn red down at his servants as he silently watches.

K'tarin gulps. He shifts his grip so that the razor edge of the blade slices through his hand. He fights to keep from crying out as his warm, sticky blood flows over the blade of the knife. The hall is silent. No other sound can be heard save for the drip-drip-drip of K'tarin's blood spattering the ground. He looks up at Gurstaka and, in a strong voice, says "I swear to you, masters. I swear by the lifeblood of my body and the very breath in me. I will be faithful, and loyal to you, my masters, and to Thrakburzum. I swear to you by my heart that beats. May I be cast to the Eternal Feasting if I lie."

Gurstaka growls softly to himself under his breath, and like lightning moves is hand around the snagas. Without mercy he begins to squeeze, forcing the blade deeper and deeper into the fleshy part of K'tarin's palm. "Feel that pain, snaga?" he asks the uruk in agony before him "May that pain be visited upon you ten fold should a thought of treachery ever enter your head. Remember this day, and remember always the pain!"

Brax steps forward, content in the snagas loyalty and lowers the axe into his armes. He thrusts it out, handle first at the soft flesh of the snaga, just at the base of the neck. The hot skull causes the flesh to bubble and blister as it gets close, seconds before there is a loud hiss and the room is filled with the stench of burning flesh and sizzling fat. The Chieftain presses forward, driving the hot skull into the snagas flesh and letting it sit for a momment before pulling it free. Left, in the snagas flesh, a perfect form of a blackend skull. Brax stands and says, "Rise snaga and server your Masters well. You are a brother of da Thrakburzum and da Flame has blessed you."

K'tarin , whimpering in pain, gazes up at the Orcs looming over him. "Thank you, masters!" he says, "K'tarin serve you well. He do! He do!"

Gurstaka releases his grip from the snaga's hand, pulling the handle of the knife out of K'tarin's grip. "You have done well, little snaga. See the healers immediatly for your hand, crippled workers are no good to me. Report immediatly to the forges once you are patched up. You have much to learn, and a long way to go. Best we get started as soon as possible. Welcome to the Thrakburzum.

Allowing one of his rare smiles to crease his lips, he offers the dagger back to Brax, handle first. Nodding slightly to the chieftain, he awaits the snaga to leave.

[Brax(#15454)] The Chieftain turns to the Smith and says, "As for you Gurstaka. You have always served Brax well. Da tribe has used da blessings of your skill with da Flame and da hammer. You are one of Brax's trusted servants and such deserve reward." He reaches up and wraps his steel claw around the face of Gurstaka. Slowly drawing his hand back he drags his sharp claws across the smiths cheeks, cutting a line on each side that drips black blood. As he does this he says, "As Brax's Master did to him, So Brax mark you Gurstaka. Your Loyalty is honored and you are trusted Muzgak of da Thrakburzum." Brax drops his claw and pulls from his pouch a hand full of coins. Placing then in the claw of the Smith he continues, "Along with all the rishes such rank entitles."

K'tarin , still whimpering, darts toward the door, eager to do his master's bidding. He turns, bowing repeatedly to the two, "Thank you masters, thank you! I be good worker, you see. I work good." He turns, and darts out the door towards the healers, still murmuring "Thank you, masters! Thank you!"

Gurstaka stands motionless, as Brax's hand reaches over his face. He closes his eyes as the claws rake down his face slightly, letting thick dark blood run slowly down his to his chin. Opening them again, his grins with a fierceness that he rarely shows. "I am honoured to be at your side, as always Master Brax. Serving you is all the reward all true Thrakburzum require."

Letting his tongue wander briefly he licks at the blood running down his face, and tucks the precious coins within his armour. "Should you require anything, I will be first to be there serving you. As you were to Ghlurshrekh, so shall I be to you...