A large domed cavern. The walls and floor of this place are stone, black as pitch. In the center of the floor lies a pit, close to one hundred feet in diameter. A railing stands around the pit: a ring of black iron poles about five feet tall, and linked together with four levels of chain.
The floor of the pit lies ten feet below, made of loose blood stained sand. The dismembered carcases of Orcs, and large predatory beasts lay in the sand. Jammed atop the iron poles are countless severed heads in various states of decay two, sometimes three layers thick, most are easily recognizable as Uruks, but many bear fine Elven features, or long Dwarven beards.
When there are fights here Uruks line the pit screaming in thier vile voices and shakeing fists, eager to see blood. There is no gate into the pit, combatants must climb the chains and drop fifteen feet to the sands below.
The only exits from this room are an arched walkway leading up a long flight of stairs, and a sloping tunnel winding down, farther into the mountain.
Contents:
Grul
Bardalg
Grul enters the fight pit, flanked behind him by two of his highly trained bodyguards. His face looks like a thundercloud as he clumps into to fight pit, his red orb scanning the room to see one who he might be able to relieve his tensions on. He has just come from the Teguk's chambers, and he is furious that he has not been permitted to see him immediatly. He visits Dol Guldor very infrequently as it is, and to be denied access to his commander is intolerable. His eyes pick out likely targets, and he leans back to whisper to one of his guards. Nodding slightly, the Dog walks foward, grabbing a cringing snaga by the scruff of the neck, and tossing him into the fight pit ten feet below. Grul walks to the edge, surveying the few uruks that fight in there. "Clear the fight pit!" He calls down there, drawing his scimitar as a warning to those who would gainsay him. Within minutes, the pit has cleared, and Grul himself stalks the sandy floor, peering at the snaga. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he throws it to the unarmed slave to defend himself with. His own scimitar in his hand, it is the work of mere minutes before his blade strikes, cleanly severing the uruk's head from his shoulders. Annoyed at this briefness of this encounter, he glances back up, signalling that another slave be sent down. Guffawing slightly, one of his warriors approach the snaga known as Bardalg, one hand outstretched.
Grul brings his black-hilted scimitar out of its sheath, and grips it firmly, ready for battle.
Bardalg look's very scared and weak, he sees his own apparent doom before him. He decide's that it would be suicide to try and run from the Orc's, as they are many and he is one. He slumps downinto the fight pit, hoping that he too will be granted a weapon like the one who fought before him
Grul narrow's his eyes as he scans the next specimen before him. This snaga, he decides, is more worthy of his blade than the weedy runt that came before him. Gesturing, Grul points to the dagger still clutched in the death grip of butchered slave. "Pick up that dagger, unnamed worm, and strike at me if you will. If you fight well, you will be rewarded. If you do not, your head will roll on these sands as did your predecessor. Laughing, Grul sets himself back again, his red orbs peering out from behind his heavy shield at the slave.
Bardalg picks up a Dagger.
Bardalg smiles wickedly and pulls out his evil blade from the sheath on his belt - you shudder as you see that the barbs and hooks on the dagger make it more an instrument of pain than death.
Bardalg picks up the dagger and then in a sudden change of mood runs toward Grul, in hopes for a quick attack. As he is running across the field he makes a tremendous noise, louder than any normal slave should even in a rash move like this. When he reaches Grul he slashs out with a quick attack, but you can see that he is still holding back alot of his power, and this is just a small attack. Apperently he is not so stupid as to leave himself open to a decisive counter attack...
Bardalg attacks you with his dagger!
...and he misses!
Grul deftly moves out of the way of the rushing snaga, his face betraying the disgust at this snaga's foolhardy attack. Easily he steps out of the side, his scimitar curling around easily as he spins, and, reversing his blade, he swipes down low, curling the flat edge of the blade around the foward-moving snaga, seeking to trip him flat on his face. For Grul does not only seek blood here, he seeks the total humiliation of his opponent.
You attack Bardalg with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Bardalg badly wounds him!
You can see the pain Bardalg is in. His face is writhing in pain and horrer. He throws his dagger desperatly towards Grul, hoping against hope that that desperewate move will save him from the horrible fate that is sure to meet him if he does not hurt this orc.
Bardalg throws a dagger...
Bardalg's dagger flies wide, doing no harm.
Grul's eyes widen in disbelief as he see's the snaga's super-foolhardy attack. The throw dager flies true..... until it smashes into the front of Grul's metal shield, deflecting harmlessly away to the side. "Foolish snaga, the first lesson that you need to learn is never throw away your only source of protection. For what now will stop my blade from finding your flesh?" Grul looks down to where the snaga sprawled onto the ground, and tiring of this battle, bringings his scimitar up high, and back down again, seeking to part the snaga's head from his shoulders.
You attack Bardalg with your Scimitar...
Your attack against Bardalg severely wounds him!
Bardalg the now extremely botched up and confused snaga, who has apperently been attacked by irane halluinations of possible victory or escape falls to the ground and curls up into a defensive ball, hopping against all hope for mercy. With this he loses concious.
Grul smiles slightly as his scimitar bites cruelly into the side of the snaga. Pulling the scimitar free with relish, he watches the blood flow and the weak snaga lose consciousness. For now he is satisfied, and he gestures that his bodyguards should take the snaga back to his garrison for healing. Carefully wiping his blade clean on the shirt of his first victim, he retrieves his unbloodied dagger and places is back into the sheath at his waist. Once out of the pit he heads back toward Tagakmog's chambers, determined to see him now and not later.