Arrest of Malaerc

 

Moria, Underground Lake

 

Here is a lake deep enough to drown at least two trolls standing above each other. The water is still within this enormous cavern, possessed of an inky black colour. Except for the low sound of dripping water from the ceiling and from the many stalactites, the silence is oppressing. The fluorescent glow produced by the moss covering the walls of the cavern gives the lake an unnatural green glow. In shallower parts of this lake, ancient stalagmites break the surface of the water. Special waterproof carts are run between the main areas of the mines and this lake on a regular basis, disturbing the serenity of it when they show up.

 

Contents:

 

Mutalisk

 

Nargrukh

 

Malaerc

 

Obvious exits:

 

 West leads to Endless Mines

 

 

 

Nargrukh looks downwards at the little strange speaking orc, and nods to him.Then taking his right hand off of his scimitar handle, he goes a step back, regaining his temper, composure, and watchfulness. He nods again, at Mutalisk, "Well, snaga, you should get a tribe. The Morghash or the Thrakburzum." Crossing his arms, he watches the little snaga, and waits for a reply.

 

 

[Malaerc(#23460)] Remebering the days of idle hands himself, a bright idea pops dangerously into the little jailer's elusive thought process, "Hrmmm, ho... Mutalisks it bes? Bah!... yous whimpers now if ever there were whimpers..." Twisting his tongue in nots, Malaerc pauses as he tries to untangle his now thoroughly boggled noodle, "... so... whimpers you bes now... right..." The runt-orc's visage scrunches up in consternation as he recalls the odd oration once more...

 

 "Ahh, wells... lookins like you havins do nothing handses there, whimpers... 'ol jailers can fill thems, if you be interested in somes apprentice workins?" Settling back on his heels, Malaerc pushes the metal helm to the top of his head, thin braids spilling haphazardly from the skull pot's recesses.

 

Clop! Clomp! Stomp! A patrol of Guards moves down the mines of Moria, their weapons heled before them and their armour clinking loudly. Of the four Guard patrol one is an apprentice, following and watching. The move swiftly down the mines, ignoring orcs at work or on the way, but taking time to rouse those who seem to be slacking. Apart from them a figure follows some distance back. The Ring armour of the figure trots slowly behind them, studying them, but turning off near the lake.

 

      The Master Guard Huzghash seperates himself from the group of guards, letting them continue on their patrol as he moves downward toward the lake. His crimson eyes scan the perimeter of the lake, eyeing the few orcs there but coming to rest on a particular group. A grin, though not a kind one, seems to cross the uruk's face as he turns slightly to head closer to the group, as he recognizes two of them. Calling out ahead his words shoot from his mouth like small darts from a bloow gun, short, precise, deadly. "Ahh. Jailor Malaerc, I have been looking for you!"

 

 

[Mutalisk(#28270)] "Me grateful, me will get tribe." Mutalisk says as he begings to tend to his injured foot. He walks over to the lake, bending lower than usual to escape the gaze of the other orcs. while dipping his foot into the black water his head whips to Malaerc at his offer. "Well me never thought of it before, me would like that. It would give me sumthin ta do." he says looking as if his head would explode from to much thinking.

 

Nargrukh's head turns suddenly at the entrance of the patrol of orcs, and the Master Guard Huzghash. Turning, for the moment ignoring Mutalisk, he draws himself to his full height and salutes Huzghash briskly, and inclines his twisted face. "Congratulation on the promotion, Master Guard," he says, somewhat admiringly, "It has been far too long since we have had a proper Master Guard. I hope you will prove yourself to be fitting, sir." This is the manner of Nargrukh's speaking: blunt and upfront, at least most of the time.

 

[Malaerc(#23460)] Malaerc's remarkably strange recruitment ceases abruptly at the recognizeable voice of the Sen... Master Guard? Slapping an accentuated salute to the metal helmet perched atop his serpentine braids, the tiny Morghash relieves himself of 'whimpers' and 'thinkers', a brief shout over his shoulder following in his wake as he scuttles for the booming Huzghash, "Jailers apprentice you beins, now whimpers... no leavins before afind me laters for yer firstin dutie as glories peacein keeper!"

 

 Breathily jolting to a stop at the monstrous Guard's feet, Malaerc stammers on, his head now respectfully bowed to a scrunchy chin, "Masters Guards, now ma Seniors? ... good, good to ma ears after lacks of leaders, most definatelys... what can yours loyal servant, Malaerc be doins fah the new Master?" Not quite sure what to do, the runt-orc sinks to a knee, the ebony blade usually at his waist now resting submissively at Huzghash's iron feet, "I dos wishin to offer ma renewed duties to tha news Master... at yer services always!"

 

Malaerc removes Flesh-Biter.

 

Malaerc drives the grisly blade of his scimitar into the ground.

 

The Senior Guard stops and returns the salute to Nargrukh and then watches as Malaerc kneels before him. A smirk widening across his face Huzghash looks down at the kneeling Jailor and then says, "Malaerc, let me see your weapon a moment, I think I may have something for you." The Guard extends a hand, his face calm with a smirk etched across it. The Master Guard looks expectantly at the little Jailor, his eyes scanning it's form. "I also have orders for you, Jailor. You too Guard." The Guard adds the last sentence and flicks his eyes to the Guard for only a moment before they fall back to Malaerc.

 

Nargrukh watches with surprise as Malaerc steps and front of him and kneels before the Master Guard. Not knowing what else to do, he follows suit, springing up next to the little jailor and dropping to his knees, he drives the tip of his scimitar into the cold stone, bowing his head before Huzghash. "I, also, am in your service, Master Guard." he says.

 

 

[Mutalisk(#28270)] While the jailers are preoccupied by the appearance of the Master Guard, Mutalisk bows Malaerc. "Me thanks for the work. Me will be there when you needs me. But me foot hurts more than me thought." he says in a whisper low enough so just Malaerc can hear, though he took no notice of it. Mutalisk creeps back into the shadows and disappears from sight without a sound.

 

Mutalisk has left.

 

 

[Malaerc(#23460)] Scooping up the prostrate blade, Malaerc presents it almost reverently to the Master Guard, palms open bearing the flat of the weapon to the disposal of the huge uruk before him, "Ayes, Masters... Orders I shall be gladdend to takes, and anythins fah glories Guards will be quiten the pleasurables." Head still bowed, the tiny uruk raises his offering hands slightly, the ebony blade reflecting the cool sheen of the listless lake nearby.

 

 

The Master Guard looks down at the little Jailor as his blade is presented to the Master Guard. Huzghash eyes the blade a moment and then grips it tightly in his left hand, twirling the blade slightly as he does so. Glancing over at the other kneeling Guard, Huzghash smirks again and then he begins to speak, his words slow and cautious as he takes one step back from the Two Guards. "Malaerc, you have served the Guards, and Jailors, well. However, I have heard that you killed the Guard C'zoth?" The Guard's eyebrow arches, but he waits for no answer.

 

      "The Talashakh Z'macht was not pleased by this. You, Malaerc, are to be punished by his hand. Though I do not know of the punishment. I suggest you accept this peacefully." The Guard's eyes harden, though a hitn of pity glints deep within the crimson wells. "Guard Nargrukh, apprehend the Jailor." The Master Guard's face does not contain its former smirk. Rather, his face is somber, somewhat disappointing and noticably strained."

 

You pick up a grisly scimitar with the word 'Flesh-Biter' carved on the grip.

 

 

[Malaerc(#23460)] At the unexpected words of the newly appointed Master Guard, Malaerc's beady eyes widen terrifically in absolute shock. "Wha...? Mmmasterrs... The arm-choppers were encroachins upon ma an ma Bozis after chief-a-morgs left! I was attendin to ma Bozis when he comes at mas again, callins ma fool, and demandin his sticker back!" The runt-orc becomes desperate, his arms still streached out before him, but still cooperative, "Mmmm... masters? I were just protectin ma arms an ma Bozis... Gurgils attacked as wells in defense of his jailerses... We meants no harm, just protections ourselfs..." Bowing his head again submissively, the little Morghash sniffles slightly as he presents his wrists for captivation, salty tears trickling down his grimy face, "Just no wantins hurtins fah ma Bozis... poor Bozis was conked... couldn't evens helpins his owns..."

 

Nargrukh nods at his Master Guard's words, then stands suddenly, and turning to Malaerc, draws his scimitar slowly and grimly. Nodding to the little jailor, he gestures with his sword, towards the westward path. "I don't want any trouble, hear?" he says, then he gestures with his free hand, in mock politeness, as if he were addressing someone of high importance, "After you."

 

[Combat(#13388)] Nargrukh draws an improvised scimitar, forged roughly from discarded metal, but sharp despite its rough appearance.

 

Huzghash sighs, a loud sigh, though not have boredom, rather one of pity. His red eyes look sternly down at the little jailor crying on his knees. "I did not know of this. " The MAster Guard pauses, his eyes studying the crying Jailor. Again, his wearied form sighs. "YEt, I have my orders, Jailor. I am in no position to question the Talashakh." The Master Guard gives a resigned shrug and shifts nervously on his feet. "Maybe he will listen to your plea. " The scimitar twists in the slick hands of the Master Guard.

 

      "Still, you are to be taken to the Morghash commons. There you shall be chained and placed under constant guard until such time as the Talashakh shall punish you. Those are my orders." The Guard stops, letting the words stab out at the little Jailor.

 

 

[Malaerc(#23460)] Malaerc stiffens as he slowly stands to a pair of shaking knees, a brief look over his shoulder directed heatedly at the condescending guard, but reverting to genuine submission as he beholds the Master Guard once more, "Masters, trustins ma as a jailer, as a Guardses, and as a fellows Morghashins... I have the keys to the chains you speaks of, and will place mas therins at yers wishins.... just wantins to protects ma Bozis... minds tellins chief-a-morgs so?" Barring the answer of Huzghash, the arrested jailer sighs once more before making to go to his predestined fate in the Morghash Commons.

 

 

Huzghash nods to the little Jailor, "You have served well as I Guard. Lock yourself in the chains, and then give your keys to this Guard." A finger points out at the Guard Nargrukh. The crimson eyes shift from the Jailor to the Guard, and lock with his eyes. "Make sure he is locked in securely and not harmed. Only the Talashakh shall punish him. Return the keys to me once you have them, and also set two Guards to guard him with rotating shifts." The Guards eyes are deadly serious, two twin daggers of ice stabbing out from beneath the helm.

 

       The Master Guard turns from the two, beginning to walk away, further down the Mines. "Malaerc," the Master Guard calls over his shoulder as he moves away, "Face your punishment with the pride of the Guards and Morghash. I will speak to Z'macht of your story before the punishment." The Guard casts one last glance over his shoulder as his feet begin to pick up pace.

 

Nargrukh nods slightly, then salutes to the Master Guard. He then turns out and heads westwards, towards the mines, right behind the little Jailor. He slings his scimitar onto his shoulder, for the prisoner appears to be no immediate threat, and his mood was submission, not anger. But still, he would be ready if the little jailor tried anything, but Nargrukh expected it not. Sighing deep, he gives a last look over his shoulder at the rapidly receding Huzghash, then escorts the prisoner through the arch.