(scene was joined while in progress -- logged by Dhygrukh)

Moria, Endless Mines(#21128RntUf) Here are the fabled Mines of Khazad-Dum, the lifeblood of Moria and the cause of countless conflicts. Passages, most so low that necks must be bent in order to traverse them, snake off in all conceivable directions from one enormous, central chamber. Here, at least, there is ample enough room for many orcs to maneuver about comfortably. Nonetheless, the air is thick: thick with small, black particles of dirt thrown up by the labours of the miners, and thick with the dint of gangs of miners diligently splitting rocks with their picks. There are always numerous comings and goings here, as team after team comes out or goes into one of the countless passages deeper into the mines. A few torches blurt out light and add to the heaviness of the air, their illumination reflected in the highly polished walls of this main chamber. A few ruts have been dug into the ground for carts designed to haul ore from
here to the Forges. There is always more ore, more iron for weapons, but never mithril. The Moria-silver so prized by the Dwarves to this day eludes the orkish miners, but that does not stop them from digging deeper and deeper, ever pursuing the will-o-wisp that is mithril.
Contents:
Ckrag
Skaidatz
C'zakh
Gulhak
Durbmog
Mashug
Moria Mine
Obvious exits: North leads to Moria, More Endless Mines West leads to Moria, Mine Equipment and Ore Storage
East leads to Moria, Underground Lake
Up leads to Moria, Trade Hall
Down leads to Moria, Smith Commons
Southeast leads to Lair of the Thrugu

[Combat(#13388)] Gulhak losen the Spangenhelm from his head and dangles it behind his back, grating against his shield.

C'zakh bows his head fractionally to the Gothshaka, murmuring, "Their tongues do indeed need to be curbed, Gothshaka." Turning to Ckrag, his eyes flash menacingly as he says to his Councilor, "We will speak of this later..." Then his mind is elsewhere, racing along a different track, as he turns towards Gulhak, his face now set in an expressionless mask. "Are you loyal to King, Flame, and Talashakh, Gulhak?" he booms, eyes focused piercingly upon the pitiful uruk. "Speak quickly! If I deem it a lie your life is forfeit. "

Amid the clamour of mining, another few footsteps are of no importance. However, the beast who makes them is anything but inconspicuous. Although they have begun to grow accustomed to the hefty foreigner Dhygrukh, a few still glance up from their work to sneak a glimpse at the beast. Some mutter
amongst themselves:
"'E's still 'ere!"
"The King'll kill em!"
"That olog's after 'im!" But done dare to mutter too loud as the Southron approaches the king. a blankly cruel look on his face. He says nothing yet as he drawrs near, each step of his upright gait measured and confident even in these mines.

[Gulhak(#6377)] "My scars speak for me. My wounds bears witness.." replied Gul. "I've fought the King's wars on evey command without fail.." replied Gul.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "And do you remain faithful?" rasps the King. He folds his arms, watching Gulhak through half-lidded eyes.

[Gulhak(#6377)] "My life has been given to the Flame. As he stands he is faithful.." replied Gul coldly.

Dhygrukh stops, heavy feet coming to rest several paces from the king and his circle of supplicants. His eye falls only momentarily upon Durbmog, but a slight sneer covers his face as he glances upon his company. A growl near a chuckle percolates low in the Southron's throat as he stands still in place; it's hard to tell if he is merely observerving or waiting to speak.

[C'zakh(#30504)] "I have no use for the weak and pitiful, Gulhak..." C'zakh states flatly, looking upon the orc with something between disgust and dissapointment. "Nor does the flame...though I am more merciful than that great entity. I give you a last chance." He paused, letting the effect sink in, then speaks again. "Gulhak, Shakh of Thrakburzum, you are demoted to common uruk of the tribe. If you prove yourself you will ascend again in rank, though never again will you hold Shakh, where you have so failed me, you pathetic worm." This proclamation given, C'zakh stands unmoving, gazing down at the former Shakh with baleful, unforgiving eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest, one of his hands still clutching at his black mask.

[Gulhak(#6377)] "Here is a token of courage.. perhaps misplaced but a small measure.." Gul reaches for a sack of burlap and pours out its content... "They are from the deep... and they feast on the carcasses of Thrugu... they are a fierce parasite." states Gul. Six worm-like creatures slithers lethargicly on the floor, their body marks by red rings from head to tail. They are about 3 feet long. "Keep ur ranks Talashakh.. your eyes do not even see a simple trap!.." spits Gul.

[<#23381>] Slipping from Ckrag's side, the robed figure of Skaidatz now sidles close to the Talashakh himself. With a sniff directed at Gulhak, the uruk then looks over Dhygrukh cooly, but shifts his gaze quickly, lest the Southron notice his glance. Leaning forward to C'zakh's ear, he breathes, "... ... ..., ... the .... ... I ... ... ... being ... ... ... ... ..., ... ... ... your anger ... ... .... ... ... only ... ... ..., ... ... ... pardon ... ... ... you."

[Ckrag(#23460)] A vicious snarl erupts from the Master Guard's throat as he strides forward toward Gulhak. Beefy arms reach over the Taskmaster's shoulders as his personal guard to no avail attempts to bear him to the earth. He shrugs them off with a mighty bellow, spear already thrust from his hands toward the worm-wielding uruk.

Gulhak collapses to the ground, defeated by Ckrag!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "It's good to see that betrayal cannot be countenanced," rasps Durbmog with a sneer.

[Gulhak(#6377)] "Haahaahaaa!!!..." crackle as light before him deminishes.....

[C'zakh(#30504)] "Nor do your eyes see your own death approaching, you fool!" C'zakh growls, eyes glittering with malice, though they flick down to the parasites, narrowing ever so slightly. Then Skaidatz speaks into his ear. The Talashakh nods to the counsel, his mouth opening to speak--the command now rendered useless by the sudden attack of Ckrag. "You are now demoted to clan commons corpse..." C'zakh comments dryly, turning away from the bloody spectacle and back to the two Hais. He lets the Gothshaka's comment slip past. "I cannot let these aggressions go unanswered. The Morghash then grow bolder and eventually declare open war on the Thrakburzum. What do you wish done to allay the growing aggression on both sides of the tribes?" he asks levelly, arms crosses as he waits for the Gothshaka's decree.

Dhygrukh snarls with disdain as the creatures slither before the Morian Gothshaka. Fluidly but quickly, Dhygrukh's large hand takes hold of the blade at his side as he moves discreetly behind Gulhak, eyes meeting the king's with a questioning glance -- but then Ckrag settles the question as he sets upon Gulhak. Cold, disinterested eyes watch the attack, but his hand does not leave his blade as he regards the others present. Nor does the foreign scout speak as his hand fingers the pommel of his weapon.

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King's eyes gleam. He watches the body fall. "The Coliseum," he hisses, "is where grievances shall be settled in grim combat. Challenge your foes to fight there; and the same goes for the Morghash. If there is open tribal war then I shall kill Chieftains and Shakhs and officers responsible alike and set up new leaders in their place. For the Demon has ... designs which must be met." The King's nostrils flare, eyes widen suddenly. "And to serve the Demon I need armies!" he roars.

Dhygrukh speaks unnannounced from the fringes, a behavior quite unlike his habit. Thus, rubmle of his throaty voice attracts some attention even in this din. "Many will shy away from the honor of such a match, and shy away from such a meeting," He mutters matter-of-factly. "Many of your kingdom work behind their words and threats and fear open battle..." A hint of a smile creases the Southron's ugly face. "...and it is they your kingdom needs to purge." An ambiguous look of mischief remains on the foreigner's face as his eyes track the others present.

[Skaidatz(#23381)] Watching the way the tide is turning, Skaidatz steps forward, looking to the Talashakh for permission to speak aloud to the group.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "A melee we can permit," hisses Durbmog, shoving his war hammer back into his belt; his hand snakes upward, stroking the angry burn-scar that rings his neck. His eyes go distant as he yields momentarily to reverie. "Yesssss. We can permit ... melee. Officers of Thrakburzum and Morghash ... arrayed for battle in the Coliseum ... to the death. Death."

Gulhak goes Out Of Character. Dhygrukh has spoken his piece. He remains detached from the group, standing tall with straight spine as hsi fingers still idly trace paths along the hilt of his blade. He does not respond to the king, but raises and tilts his head just a small bit to show his attention as he awaits further words from the Morian king.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Uncerimoniously does Ckrag rend the ex-Shakh's head from it's shoulders with a great twist and yank of his thick arms. Black blood splurts to the carven floor as the Master Guard far from carefully crams the leaking melon into a large sack at his waist. Still studiously packing the head, he mutters between his clenched teeth. "The Southron speaks true.. what of the knives in the dark? We will surely take measures to protect ourselves from the unseen attack, but that doesn't stem the works of the Morghash.. We will consent to Battle in the Coliseum, but I think it will not end there.. My Gothshakha: At least allow us to take the head of the traitorous Prakh? The penalty for muder is death, is it not, my King?" The old uruk finishes the stowing of his item while turning sparkling, bloodlusty eyes toward Durbmog.

[C'zakh(#30504)] "And the Talashakh ob Thrakburzum and his tribe will serve you as such, Gothshaka!" C'zakh booms in answer, raising his helmet in assent to the King's call. Red light runs the length of it's sharp edges. Then Durbmog speaks again, and the helmet lowers. A broad, wolfish, and predatory grin spreads wide over his face at the Gothshaka's words. "A battle between the officer's of the two tribes, King Durbmog? A battle to settle these disputes once and for all? Is that what you wish?" He rehangs his helmet on his broad belt, looking between Dhygrukh and Durbmog for a moment, running a metal-clad claw along the length of the long livid scars on his cheekbones, given to him by Durbmog himself. "My officers are ready to fight, Gothshaka..." he says, glancing at Ckrag and shaking his head slowly. He then steps towards the Master Guard and hisses a few words into his ear.

[<#30504>] C'zakh +whispers to Ckrag, "... not press our ..., .... ... ... ... enough. ..., ... ...."

[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Call her out in the Coliseum." The King glances at Ckrag. "Call Prakh out to single combat. Murder is a very serious accusation -- let trial by combat determine guilt in these things. You, my Master Guard, surely don't fear a she-orc."

[Skaidatz(#23381)] Skaidatz bows his vile head to C'zakh's words, and turns to face Durbmog, bowing low upon the floor before him. "Oh great Gothshakh," says he, with his reedy, hissing voice, "you are wise and know the will of the Demon. I come before you lowly yet filled with love for the Flame. We know of your needs, and desire only glory for the Flame. But these craven scum are a threat to that purity. If you will not have us lynch their worthless hides, might you not crush them yourself, mighty and fell as you are my King? Of if this base task is beneath your greatness, then why not your champion?" At this the stooped figure gestures reverently to Dhygrukh. "The whole of Moria bears witness to his prowess. Can we not ask that he rain down vengeance on the Morghash Talashakh and his treacherous rabble? What better message could one send to the Mines, Great Gothshakh, than that the Flame's King brooks no disobedience, and returns betrayal with righteous death!" Falling once more to his knees before the King and the Southron, Skaidatz crawls away a few yards before rising to his feet.

[Ckrag(#23460)] "Then it is as you wish. I shall do battle with the she-orc, for ye know I've no fear, my Gothshakha." Ckrag's words slink between his tusks in damaged pride as he clinches his fists upon the crooked staff before him. Nodding to the Talashakh, the old uruk cranes his neck and bellows at the top of his lungs:

Dhygrukh's eyes remain on Durbmog the King as the pair of Thrakburzum speak, a smirk growing more and more visible in the center of his fearsome visage. Whatever amuses him, though, is for now kept silent as another chuckle resonates from within the Uruk-Hai. The chuckle is cut short and the smile fades as Dhygrukh looks suspiciously at the beseeching Skaidatz, but he characteristically witholds still any urge to speak.

[<#23460>] Ckrag +shouts, "Prakh! PRAKH! Face your doom at the wish of the King. Bring yourself before Ckrag!"

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King turns to Dhygrukh. "An interesting notion, wouldn't you say?"

From East, [<#17562>] Prakh obviously heard Ckrag's shout as she replies with a shout of her own "I shall..in a moment!"

[Grumbkul(#16159)] "C'mon, c'mon! Move it!" A throaty voice echoes from the grimy passage that slopes up towards the Trade Hall. "Back to work, the whole lot of you!" The sound of a heavy boot hitting flesh follows, and a whimpering snaga rolls into the dusty, crowded chamber. He pushes himself up from the ground and starts to wipe himself off, but then he sees the congregation of orcs, including the Gothshaka himself, gathered about. He stands wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. Within moments the source of the throaty voice arrives--Grumbkul. No sooner is the Senior Hammerer in sight (trailed by four more snagas) than he is rearing back to give the already-kicked snaga another boot. But he too notices the the group and can't help but catch the dominant figure of the King, and he stops, taking on a wide-eyed look similar to the snaga on the ground in front of him.

[Ezmakh(#19968)] Again some trembling noises feel the corridors of the mines of moria. This time back from the great lake. A group of many a snaga return from the local source of water carrying, lifting and dragging large round wooden crates circled by round metaalic hooks and filled with a colorless fluid - Water filled barrels. As the many of them pass, after them appear a few ones who don't carry this tankards, for they are higher ranked. Among them is Ezmakh, Senior Hammerer, who halts by thepassageway and looks around with the crimson orbs he bears as eyes at the ones present in the room aside his underlings at work.

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King folds his arms. "This will be an eventful day," he rasps drily.

Dhygrukh strides through the rough polygon made by the small group already gathered, paying only passing notice to those entering -- for now. Consciously removing his hand from his weapon, the Southron stands fairly close to the king. "I wish to sell this...armor I have won." He pauses, the wry smirk appearing again. "And I have other news I might share as well."

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King leans towards Dhygrkh, nodding. He murmurs something to the Southron.

[<#29406>] Durbmog +whispers to you, "Shall I give you the mail and helm, for you to sell as you will, or shall I give you gold equivalent to its value? -- but speak your news first."

[Prakh(#17562)] A little way behind Ezmakh and his underlings comes the She-Maluuk Prakh. She walks silently, tension oozing from every step she makes, her red eyes constantly skim the darkness around her, lingering where the darkness is deepest. The Master Guard's summons probably responsible for the nature of her attitude--the attitude in turn responsible for the fact that Prakh's scimitar is grasped loosely in her right hand. "Well well, seems like quite a party.." Prakh mutters those who entered with her, this comment made out of false bravado in all certainty before she silences, stepping into full view.

[Hausnak(#31414)] Behind Ezmakh and Prakh slithers another creature, Apprentice Hammerer Hausnak, his eyes peering up and back and forth between the two Morghash Maluuk. He stays a couple steps behind them, but as Ezmakh stops to look around, so does Hausnak, and he turns his head to look at who is in the room. As he does, he slowly brings down his hand upon the mace hanging from his belt, noticing Prakh's tension.

[Skaidatz(#23381)] Skaidatz turns away from the gathered Thrakburzum, and gazes cooly over towards the procession that enters the Mines. A brief wrinkle of his snoutish nose, and he takes a few steps backwards, slipping deferentially in by the side of Ckrag and the Talashakh, facing the Morghash.

Dhygrukh again only offers a glance in response to the announcement of Prakh, then leans back toward the Gothshaka. Unlike nearly every Morian, the Southron can speak easily in the tall king's ear: "For travel, I might need money." A smile again cracks the usually ambivalent features of Dhygrukh. "But I may instead take the gear with your kindness, since I am not leaving...and perhaps I will have troops needing gear." The Southron steps back from the king, stifling a full-on grin as he awaits a reaction.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag bows low before the Gothshakha, staff on the floor before him. "Then as you command, I exact my revenge, the revenge of my tribe, and your law; the penalty of which is death," the Master Guard rasps before turning toward the newly arrived and armed Prakh. "Prepare yourself for the Eternal Feasting." With a mighty growl, the aged Morian quits the headless body of the ex-Shakh and feet pounding, sprints toward the Scout with spear before him in a deadly thrust.

Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and badly wounds her!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "Fight your single combat as you will," growls the King at Ckrag. "Even so, one wonders at your hurry. This doesn't look like the Coliseum, after all."

C'zakh's head turns towards the arriving Morghash, as does his body, and he watches them through blazing red eyes, his face's lines set into hard grooves, and his jaw muscles bunching at the corners of his triangular face. The snakelike nostrils on his broad nose flair as he watches Prakh enter. "So, the traitor shows her cowardly face. What a surprise..." C'zakh rasps dryly, a cruel smile curving the corners of his gash-like mouth upwards. Ckrag races forwards, and the Talashakh's grin grows yet wider as the spear strikes true. C'zakh comes in the wake of his Taskmaster, more slowly, to get a better vantage point to the fight, and also, doubtless, to see if the old uruk is ganged up on.

[<#29406>] Durbmog watches Ckrag strike the she-orc with a sneer, then turns to Dhygrukh. "Perhaps." he rasps. "Perhaps your experience and prowess would do me and my kingdom a great service. Should you elect to follow this course, I shall permit it gladly."

Dhygrukh mutters only a few words more. "I have agreed to aid the Morghash to strengthen your servants to might...if only for a time. "And this tribe that now strikes has too often been the aggressor. They will hide when numbers do not support them." Dhygrukh's hand goes to his blade, but he does not take a posture that threatens the king. "If my host would not mind, I might begin to cleanse your horde." His eyes track the combat intently.

[Mol(#17618)] A hulking figure emerges from deeper within the mines. It almost seems as though the mines itself are moving as the huge beast emerges. A stone behemoth, a troll to the lay orc, exits the mines after a long day of work. It is Mol, the olog. THe look on his face is one of deep dipleasure at the sight of so many orcs in -his- mine. The over-tired and cranky olog belows at the top of his lungs as he sees some sort of comotion, "Why you in mine?" The tone of the ologs voice is strained and bordering on angry.

[Prakh(#17562)] The She-Maluuk doesn't quite bargain on such immediate action, even though Ckrag had been the one uruk that she had probably been trying to avoid since killing Ghashdatz. She blinks too, certainly surprised that the aged, and oft sloth seeming, Ckrag could produce such speed, as the spear point rips a gash in her left side, the blood running hot onto the metal. "So many to deal with one she-uruk" Prakh snarls, the pain colouring her words with an added hissing sound "Yet I'll not cry like Ghashdatz did.." All this she hisses hurridly, twisting her scimitar in her grasp and springing forwards, trying to get a little closer to Ckrag, where his spear might not be so dangerous possibly. The aim of the She's slash is the fingers of Ckrag which grasp his weapon..

Prakh attacks Ckrag with her Scimitar, but she misses by a mile.

[<#29406>] "Morghash. Very well." The King considers Dhygrukh for a moment. "Very well. As for cleansing ... challenge whom you will, if you will, but know that you must answer to me for each warrior you destroy."

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak's eyes grow wide as he spots Ckrag sprint towards Prakh. He spits out in disgust at the Master Guard and shrieks as he sees Prakh get badly hurt. He quickly brings his mace into his hands, and growls as he hears C'zakh speak, taking a step towards the fight, his head hanging down, his eyes peering down upon Ckrag. He rushes without thinking, and swings his mace at Ckrag's waist. Hausnak attacks Ckrag with his Mace, but Ckrag parries the attack with his Spear!

[Ckrag(#23460)] The Gothshakha's comments are drowned in the superheated liquid pumping in Ckrag's elongated ears. Grim satisfaction erupts on the Master Guard's features as he deals the Scout a tremendous blow and dips swiftly beneath the she's skimming blade. "So many? Yes, I give you space at the King's command to defend yourself properly. It is ye and I, wench, and no one shall betray as ye did my Captain. On your knees!" Just in the nick of time, the old uruk ducks further below the unseen mace of another uruk, yet brings his full weight around on creaking thighs to aim a hearty blast at Prakh's exposed middle with the butt of his spear.

Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and lightly wounds her!

[C'zakh(#30504)] "Hey, you!" booms C'zakh, his eyes darting from Ckrag to focus on Hausnak. "This is a duel between two orcs! Stay out, before I show how to truly wield a mace!" He takes a single step forward towards the combatants, boots clicking, and watches to see what the Morghash do next. His gaze flicks to Mol and he frowns, his attention only momentarily distracted before it returns to Hausnak.

Dhygrukh nods, muttering again in the King's ear. "An open conflict shall come whether you desire it or not. I can guide it to end decisively without the excessive losses of a haphazard feud. Consider the wisdom of giving your guest some rein." The Uruk-Hai now turns again to the fight, hand half pulling at his blade -- but his features are calm. To the Olog, he barks indifferently: 'A battle between the friends of Rukghash and his enemies.'

Mol looks around angrily as nobody notices his question. With a snarl the olog picks up a large hunk of the mine floor. The olog sets his sights on the fighting orc and lets the rock fly. this time his voice booms out after the rock lands. "Mol said whay you in de mine!" The ologs hand reflexivly tightens around his axe, making sure the next time he asks, somebody will notice him.

Mol's boulder flies wide, doing no harm.
Mol removes Boulder.
[Combat(#13388)] Mol hefts the enormous troll-sized Battle Axe in both hands, securely, ready for a fight.

[<#29406>] The King's eyes remain half-lidded. "An open conflict," he drawls. "Decisively? Very well. The she-orc is as good as dead -- but should the Thrakburzum attempt aught beyond her death, or interfere in the single combat ... then you are free to act against them." The thud of crashing stone snaps the King's attention away from Dhygrukh. Silvery mail gleaming, Durbmog springs forward. Three steps and a bounding leap bring him on top of the Trollboulder.

[Rukghash(#11368)] Down from the Trade Hall moves a figure dressed in blackened chain, his armour rattling against his body with his quick steps. Swiftly the uruk moves, and with nimble ease, through the mines of Moria towards the sounds of quite a ruckus - pointed on by many workers and other spectators of what it is that is happening. Still it is that Rukghash trudges on through the dusty air, the four scars across his face hilited this day with a red paint like substance - standing out easily from his ashen skin. The Talashakh's crimson eyes scan out ahead, immediately catching sight of an immense troll and quite a crowd circled round some others.

[Prakh(#17562)] The voice of Mol the Troll is enough to distract the wounded Scout further, enough so that the butt end of a viciously wielded spear catches her in the gut--that in itself might not be a problem but with the gash to her side she staggers backwards, stumbling a little but not going to her knees. She bites her lip and spits at Ckrag "Would it make any difference if I knelt?!" The blade, still stained with Thrak blood from earlier, flashes at the geriatric uruk's right side, shoulder height and aimed to cut towards his neck. Prakh attacks Ckrag with her Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

[Ezmakh(#19968)] With the entrance of his companions, seeing the weapons drawn, Ezmakh looks over his head and remain apathic, and is the only among the three to keep his weapon unwielded... yet. After catching with his crimson eyes all that present, the Senior Hamerer starts to approach the king, eyes focussing upon the carcass already laid in the room. "The sender of thieves is gone, yes." he murmurs on his approach. Soon after Ckrag's and Prakh's duel begin. With that the senior hammerer reaches his hand to draw his scimitar, but holds himself as Durbmog describes the sort of duel given. A lot of action in many angles is now for the mail Maluuk ob Morghash present, as the Olog enters as well. Thus the mineworking officer approaches the Olog and says wryly "A duel by the Gothshaka", an ununderstanble hiss from far, "yes, so the Gothshaka has decreed."

Dhygrukh nods again as the exchange between himself and the King continues. More hushed words in the ear of Durbmog: "Your guest will bring you a reorganized Moria twice as efficient as you now have, and you will grow mightier by it...if you allow your ranks to be cleansed. Mark my words." Just then, Dhygrukh spies the Morghash chieftain entering and fixes him with a glare. Eyes boring into Rukghash, he growls to himself as he nods an unspoken message to the Talashakh.

[Skaidatz(#23381)] His sly eyes swivelling back and forth over the Mines, Skaidatz still stands in silence, watchin the events unfold. A quick glimmer of a glance he sends to Rukghash, before looking back to the Gothshaka in interest. As the King leaps upon the boulder, the robed uruk deems it time to move, and stalks with quiet steps closer to him and the Southron. He sidles there, and waits, though his eyes still seem to rove over the orcs assembled.

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak growls as Ckrag somehow dodges his blow, and he brings his mace back up into his hands, his arms heaving the mace over his head. He is quickly averted as C'zakh speaks to him, his head snapping towards the uruk. But Hausnak hisses back at C'zakh, full of disgust. "You know all about duels, don't you?" he hisses out towards the Thrakburzum Talashakh. But for now, he pays him no mind, swinging the mace down towards Ckrag again.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Pain tells the old one to dodge, but strategy to stay the incoming scimitar with the back of his upper arm. Accepting the harsh sting of the steel now slicing across his arm, Ckrag bellows while ripping upwards with the spear butt, aiming to catch the she underneath her angular chin. For a mere second, the Master Guard's eyes widen as the rush of a hurled stone brushes the air behind his legs, sending an uncontrollable shiver down his crooked spine. Shaking his head, he focuses on Prakh.

Hausnak attacks Ckrag with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length. Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and moderately wounds her!

[Ckrag(#23460)] The Taskmaster is fortunate to avoid the mace flailing just past his salty locks.

Mol looks down at the angry orc king. "Officer? Mol not care!" The olog takes a few steps forward, closer to the battle and the insolent orc that disturbed him. "Mol try to work here!" The olog looks down on the little orcs with contempt very obvious on his face. "Mol gets lots of ores, more dan little orcies get. Mol working so you orcies needs to work." The olog makes a few notes of the orcs that are not work. "You lazy orcies, and bad fighters!"

[Grumbkul(#16159)] Eyeing the troll cautiously, and following the boulder as it falls to the ground some distance away, Grumbkul growls to himself. "-His- mine?" His eyes hover for a moment on the troll, before they catch the Gothshaka scolding the massive, angry beast. The Senior Hammerer grins, and looks about to move in the olog's direction, when behind him he hears the approach of another. Turning, he finds Rukghash's painted visage observing the scene. "Hail!" he shouts for all present to hear. "Talshakh of Morghash!"

[Rukghash(#11368)] The Morghash Talashakh is midstride when he spots the Southron and Gothshaka among those present, and it is this way that his direction moves. Soon, Rukghash is near enough the Southron and within earshot of the King. As he does, though, he passes Grumbkul and offers him a quick nod, continuing to the Southron. "What is going on here, Southron? If you would explain."

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog is atop the rock scant seconds after Dhygrukh has spoken. His attention is on Mol still; a hand is wrapped around the handle of his weapon. "D

[Skaidatz(#23381)] His ears pricking up at the Morghash Talashakh's curt address to Dhygrukh, Skaidatz leans a pace nearer, sniffing idly as the red slits of his eyes look on still to Ckrag and the she-orc.

[C'zakh(#30504)] "I'm warning you...." C'zakh snarls, his eyes glinting with renewed anger as Hausnak swings despite his direct orders not to. He lays a hand upon his mace, and he draws the cruel weapon slowly out from it's sheath, but does not bring it up just yet into fighting position. Yet the hail of Grumbkul distracts him, and his crimson eyes dart sideways to espy the approaching Rukghash. C'zakh says nothing, merely watches through narrowed eyes, his attention switching between Morghash Talashakh and the two on one duel. Still, he does nothing.

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog is atop the rock scant seconds after Dhygrukh has spoken. His attention is on Mol still; a hand is wrapped around the handle of his weapon. "D'you want me to chain you up, Mol? Throw boulders around like that and you could hit officers, Chieftains -- you might even hit me, and that would be /bad/." The King scowls. "You might even cause a cave-in. I'm sure you don't want to see all your work in the mines set back by cave-in, Hammerer Mol."

Dhygrukh maintains an aloof look, and his words are coldly flat. Eyes moving downward to meet Rukghash's, he responds: "The Thrakburzum has challenged your Maluuk." A think and gnarly index finger indicates Ckrag and Prakh. "And the Thrakburzum call for Morghash blood." He comments as if relating an idle Feasting Hall tale, voice indifferent. "With your Shakh in jail, you are at a disadvantage." Even this pointed fact is related to the Talashakh without verve as Dhygrukh watches the escalating tension in the hall.

[<#19968>] Ezmakh blinks wordlessly at the angered Olog, and get's the message it is not the wisest thing to speak with a raged 'living mountain' if one wishes to remain in one piece. Fianlly also aware of the resence of the former Master Hammerer, he starts to approach, cautiosly, though making sure he is visible. "... ...," the Senior Hammerer rolls his tounge with a smooth whispering tone, "... ... ... ... ... Gothshaka we ... ..., ... ..., unless your ..., yes, ... ... ...." Now with the words of the Southron given, the Malluk adds "... ... ... ... ... dead also, ..., ... ..., ...."

Prakh's been standing with most of her weight on her right foot which is a little way forward from her left--not the best position for one who may need to move quickly and who is already wounded. Ckrag's blow catches her precisely where he aims, her angular chin. Prakh's bottom jaw is pushed upwards hard, the fangs in the top jaw sinking deeply into her bottom lip sending a line of black blood running over each corner of her mouth. She gasps and falls to one knee, the pain apparent on her features but there is fight still in her. The scimitar had hit the hard floor point first, bending it slightly, but she spins it and slashes in an arc across towards Ckrag's knees.

Prakh attacks Ckrag with her Scimitar, but Ckrag parries the attack with his Spear!

[Rukghash(#11368)] "Yes, but I will deal with that, Southron. I have a plan to anyhow." The Morghash Talashakh's voice rumbles, his eyes studying the passing fight. Distracted by Ezmakh's comment, Rukghash glances up to the King before looking to the fight again. "Lord Durbmog!" Rukghash calls with a salute and bow, "IS this duel to be to the death?"

[Hausnak(#31414)] Another hiss comes from Hausnak as he misses Ckrag again, the mace banging against the floor with a heavy thud. He growls as C'zakh speaks, ignoring the Talashakh for the time being. Looking around, he finally notices a large troll, understanding how the boulder came into view. But he does not pay attention to the large creature. He stops his motion for but a moment, but as Ckrag attacks Prakh again, Hausnak is enraged further, and spits at the Master Guard. He swings his mace once again. Hausnak attacks Ckrag with his Mace and lightly wounds him!

[Grumbkul(#16159)] As Rukghash sweeps by him, Grumbkul follows in his trail at an unobtrusive distance, hand wrapped around the handle of the weapon on his belt, even as there are still bandages wrapped around his torso; the old wounds do not lessen the Morghash's caution in this treacherous situation. He catches the Southron's words as he approaches, and he speaks a strong-throated response. "The Morghash shall never be 'weakened,' foreigner," he spits.

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog turns his head sideways. "It seems likely," he booms to Rukghash.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag screams loudly as the she falls to one knee, intent upon her ultimate demise. Swiftly, he leaps over the Scout's scimitar as it flicks minute, multi-colored sparks about his airborne feet as he deflects the blade at spear tip. Quick as a flash, the Master Guard grunts loudly as he brings the weapon around in two handed swing meant to finish Prakh at the neck. Ckrag bellows as a flattened bludgeon buries itself in his back with a loud clang of resonating armor. Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and badly wounds her!

[Skaidatz(#23381)] His ugly face suddenly showing emotion, the robed uruk known as Skaidatz fixes Grumbkul with a cold stare, malice gleaming in his gaze. "Indeed," says he with a rasping curse, "it would be hard to lessen the ranks of the Morghash. They are already so base and worthless that their treacherous hides are as weak as they can be." He spits upon the floor in the Senior Hammerer's direction, before returning to his stoic silence.

C'zakh's frown deepens as he sees Hausnak continue to ignore his demands for the second time, but still he does nothing. His Taskmaster could take care of himself and he had other business, with his rival. Pivoting upon an iron-shod foot with military precision, C'zakh turns to glare for a scant moment at Rukghash before he breaks the silence, advancing slowly upon the Morghash Chieftain with mace in hand as he demands, "I heard you oversaw the execution of one of my tribe-members, a senior guard and Tetrak, Rukghash. Is this true?" He stops ten paces away from the other Talashakh, eyes cold and glittering as they sum Rukghash up.

[<#19968>] Ezmakh's crimson eyes now lock upon the fight, watching every movement of attack in deep thought, and sometimes nodding, he still stands by the side of Rukghash, and after a while his tonge slitheres once again, into Rukghash's ear saying "... ..., ..., ... seem the ... ... pathetic ... ... ... ... third ..., yes. This ... ... ... ... ... proove the real ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., ...." Biting his upper lip and looking at the Gothshaka for a moment, the senior hammerer doesn't add anything for now.

Dhygrukh goes on, if unsolicited. "Your Shakh is in jail, and now you are ordered to watch your Maluuk die." Dhygrukh's mouth moves awkwardly around the Morian term "Maaluk," but for the most part his words appear to be merely ambivalent reportage of a dire situation. "And you can do nothing. It appears you are to be pushed to extermination at the hands of the other tribe."

[Mashug(#9437)] Standing in the shadows for quite some time, Mashug watches closely as the Ckrag gives the she-uruk no rest. His love for the Master Guard is not great, but his hate for Prakh is enormous. He grins as the Ckrag buries his spear in Prakh's skin, and he glances in the direction of the king. He met that southron once and does not love him at all, so he watches him, wondering what his intentions are.

Prakh looks up, from beneath sharply chiseled brows, red eyes seeming to burn all the brighter with an inflamable mix of pain, mallice and wrath. At the last second she throws her self to her right so that the sharp steel misses her kneck and takes her in her left shoulder instead--she groans and tries to rise to at leat one knee again, the effort, for it is such, is acompanied by another flash of her scimitar towards the Master Guard's legs again.

Prakh attacks Ckrag with her Scimitar, but she misses by a handspan.

Grumbkul catches Skaidatz's words and turns at the sound of spit hidding stone near his feet. He eyes the twisted creature up and down, and grins, calmly removing the iron mattock from his belt and holding it as if ready to strike. "I would spend a blow on you like you've never felt, Thrak, if you were worth more than the rock this pick once struck." After he speaks, he allows his eyes to slide back to Dhygrukh, scathingly, and then return to Skaidatz.
[Combat(#13388)] Grumbkul grabs hold of the weapon at his side--a mattock of iron hanging from his belt--and holds it ready.
[Ckrag(#23460)] The scimitar easily misses Ckrag as the Scout's unfortunate position offers her naught in the way of leverage. "Back!" he yells at Huasnak, "I'll deal with ye later for defying the Gothshakha!" Scuttling after the prone Prakh, he raises his spear high and with two hands brings it careening for her exposed middle. Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and badly wounds her!

Hausnak's eyes bulge in excitement as his mace clangs off the back of Ckrag's armor, his arms quivering slightly at the shock. But a second later, Ckrag again badly injures Prakh in the shoulder. He grimaces and shouts at Ckrag something unintelligible, but he brings his mace back up once again, with disgust in his eyes, and swings his mace towards Ckrag's shoulder, ignoring Ckrag's words.

Mol leers down at the king, "You not Mol's boss. Horvak is troll boss, you says so." The olog looks down at the thrown rock and shakes his head. "Mol not kill orcies with rock. Even elfies can take rock hit. You orcies weaker dan elfies?" The olog shakes with mirth as he discredits all of the orc king's statements. "Dat rock from floor, cave-in comes from top."

Hausnak attacks Ckrag with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.

Dhygrukh's eyes closely survey the boiling tension and the one-to-one combat in progress, and the Southron's face tightens as his hand allows blade to slide out a bit, and words are muttered low in his mouth toward the Morghash Talashakh. "Slaughter them all now and no one..." He glances behind him at the king on the rock.... "...no one will dare to rise against the new order." The words are pointed; Dhygrukh glances only briefly at Rukghash before returning his gaze to the debacle before him.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "Mol," rumbles Durbmog, "be more careful or you'll wish you were three feet tall. Now, back to work. This --" And here he waves at the Thrakburzum and Morghash, "is orc business. If you want to involve yourself in orc business you must do as I say." Without another word the King hops off of the rock, strides back towards Rukghash and Dhygrukh.

[Skaidatz(#23381)] Skaidatz weathers Grumbkul's words with naught but an impassive tweak of the eyebrow, before folding his arms inside his cloak. "Brave words, miner," he answers. "Perhaps you would feel better if I stood still whilst you swing your tool. I doubt you are accustommed to striking a moving target." A sudden decision seems written upon his brow, and he sneers as he adds, "But let us find out another time. I have something that requires my attention. Fret not at the delay, for I think you will be most please with it when I return." And with that, he spins away from the scene with not a word to anyone, and strides calmly from the Mines, his clawed feet scratching the hasrh ground as he leaves. Mashug tightens his grip on his axe as he watches Hausnak trying to hit the Master Guard. For a moment his eye meets with Ckrag's, and in a second he knows that it will only take another look from the Master Guard to make him raise his axe and punish Hausnak

[Prakh(#17562)] The She's attempt to return to her knees fail miserably as the cruelly sharp point of Ckrag's spear slips through clothing, skin and muscle to twist within her gut, blood oozing up around to already stained-with-her-blood spear. Her own blade slides from her grip in what could be considered an almost graceful fashion as she squirms and yowls. The blade gone form her grip her stickied fingers wrap around the spear that impales her...

[Combat(#13388)] Prakh returns her scimitar to her belt.

Mol chuckles as the orc king leaves his perch and heads back towards the fight. It is obvious to the troll that he has won this verbal debade and that the King must resort to idle threats to try to win. The olog shrugs and doesn't see any need to prove the superiority of trolls any further. Instead he decides to go have a drink. Slowly the stone beast pushes his way through the orcs, not interfering but still disrupting events. "Move orcies! Mol not want to hurt yous!"

[Ckrag(#23460)] Still holding the spear solidly in his grasp, Ckrag howls in triumph. "Now! NOW you pay for the life ye took!" With sickening abandon, the Master Guard kicks firmly out to plant his foot on the she's already damaged chin while both gangly hands wrench and rend the pole in their grasp, attempting to rid the Scout of her bowels. Ckrag attacks Prakh with his Spear and severely wounds her!

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak snarls as his last attempt at attack fails, his mace clanking off the ground as it swishes by. He quickly brings it back up, but he sees Prakh now, impaled, and his arm falls. His anger is gone, his arm falls, the mace clanking upon the ground, though he still grips it, as he takes a step towards Prakh, shrieking out at Ckrag in anger.

Prakh groans, eyes rolling back in her head as the spear is twisted and wrenched withing her, slicing through vital organs with a grim delight it seems, still she scrabbles at the wood of the spear, claws digging into it and leaving deep gouges, from somewhere she finds strength to keep the hands locked on her oponenant's spear and pull towards her weakly.

Prakh attacks Ckrag with her Bare Hands, but Ckrag parries the attack with his shield!

Grumbkul's eyes follow Skaidatz as he weaves his way out of conflict with words and through the crowd with his feet. A low growl rumbles after the other orc, but no more words leave the Senior Hammerer's mouth. He turns to watch the on-going duel, and his eyes catch a spurt of black blood from the Morghash she-uruk. A stern look is the Hammerer's only reaction, and a dart of the eyes to the Southron. He snorts and wheels about, slipping away into one of the many dark tunnels that creep through the bowels of the earth from here. As he disappears a cackle resounds out of the tunnel, and a shout: "Where one Morghash may fall, two more will stand!"

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag cackles madly, frothing at the mouth as he returns an equally loud bellow in the face of Hausnak. Fiercely, without looking, the Master Guard swats Prakh's blade away with his shielded arm while ripping the spear free of its' post. Thick, black blood erupts about the dislodged weapon as it's gleaming tip pulls free various clumps of ruined innards. Eyes closed rapturously, Ckrag raises the spear high once more, only to bring it swiftly down toward the Scout's neck cleanly exposed by his propping foot.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag cackles madly, frothing at the mouth as he returns an equally loud bellow in the face of Hausnak. Fiercely, without looking, the Master Guard swats Prakh's blade away with his shielded arm while ripping the spear free of its' post. Thick, black blood erupts about the dislodged weapon as it's gleaming tip pulls free various clumps of ruined innards. Eyes closed rapturously, Ckrag raises the spear high once more, only to bring it swiftly down toward the Scout's neck cleanly exposed by his propping foot. (repose)

Prakh collapses to the ground, defeated by Ckrag!

[<#11368>] "Slaughter them all." Rukghash grunts, his eyes flickering to the King and then back to Dhygrukh. A moment passes, his eyes flickering to the heavily wounded Maluuk and then over the crowd. "You are right, Southron. None would stand against us if we moved now, and now is the time." The Talashakh grunts again, moving a step to the side. 'I will not stand idly by while my tribe, the true tribe of Moria, is left to die and submit before the weaker warriors of this hall.' The Talashakh pauses, his eyes flaring as he unstraps the shield from his back and axe from his hip. 'All Morghash who would stand by your Talashakh and your tribe do so now!' Rukghash's eyes flicker to the Southron briefly, before passing over the King and to the fight at hand.

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak stand motionless now, his eyes bearing down upon Ckrag, the mace dragging upon the floor. He does not flinch as the Master Guard bellows at him, but he takes a step back as he finally brings the spear down upon Prakh's neck.

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak's eyes are turned quickly towards Rukghash and for a moment, a smile crosses his face. He somewhat weakly says, "I will stand by you, Talashakh." But he quickly looks back at Ckrag and Prakh.

[Ezmakh(#19968)] Some sort of passionate spark fills the crimson eyes of the Morghash Maluuk still alive, as he also fully opens his mouth, revealing his rotten yellow teeth and black tounge with a wicked hoarse laughter. "The strength is now to be revelaed yes!" He calls, reaching his right behind his back to take out his weapon. As he is among the first to take side by Rukghash. "My faithfulness is full, Talashakh" he hisses, spinning the weapon once in his hand ready for combat. [Combat(#13388)] Ezmakh reaches his right hand behind his back, and attaching his leather glove to a small bulging wood, he pulls it and draws out Fryth, his scimitar.

[Prakh(#17562)] Parts of orcs that are deffinately meant to be on the /inside/ are now /deffinately/ on the outside--along with a generous quantity of black blood. What strength the She-Orc had left would have been devoted to a scream, albeit a choked one, but as the gunged up spear cuts through first the skin and then the throat beneath the scream becomes a frothing, bubling, blood-filled gurgle which seems to last a good while before it finally subsides and its maker seems dead.

[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Halt." Durbmog pitches his voice deep and booming, so that it carries and echoes through the passages. "Why should force be displayed here, Dhygrukh, in the Mines from which ore is ripped? Do we not have a Coliseum for shows of force? Let Rukghash and C'zakh now select an equal number of champions from among their orcs and do battle in the Coliseum. Let battle in the chamber of sand and stone decide this intertribal conflict." The King thumps a fist against his dazzling true-silver mail. "I am Gothshaka. I have spoken."

Mol pauses mid-stride. It seems the orcs are really about to get into something. Mol stands between to opposing sides, hoping it comes to blows and someone makes the mistake of hitting him, thus making it a troll matter. It seems the king doesn't want a fight here but the arena would be just as well. the olog grins and thinks of his newly made bow. "Yeah Arenas! fight!"

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag licks clean the rot and blood dripping from a third of the stained weapon in his hand. Stooping, the old creature yanks free a second head from the two bodies already rotting the overcrowded mines. A sickening squelch and pop heralds the path of the dislodged cranium and slow plops of leftover goo follow it to a second bulging sack at his waist. The old uruk hobbles swiftly to C'zakh's side, staff before him as he cups a rend in his upper chest. Hurredly, he stuffs a dripping goop from a pouch at his belt into the wound, grimacing as he holds it therin until the mess congeals. "I'm with ye till the end, Talashakh." He glares evily at Hausnak. [Combat Function Library(#15)] Ckrag tends to the injuries on his own person.

Mashug's face changes as he listens to the words of Rukghash, turning now to a face of anger. With Prakh almost dead, his hate turns now to the Morghash, and his eyes turn dark-red for a moment. Stepping forth from the shadows, the large orc walks to C'zakh's side, his black axe dancing menacingly in his yellow-clawed hands, looking to the Morghash present. "Arena or no arena" He says to his Talashakh. "My axe is yours!"

[Rukghash(#11368)] Rukghash pauses, his eyes flashing to the Gothshaka. "My tribe was made to stand idle while one of its officers was killed." Rukghash motions with his axe towards the body of Prakh. "We have been forced to submit to the will of the weaker. This does not strengthen your horde, Gothshaka." The Talashakh's voice is a growing rumble, his eyes still alight and active. "If we are to fight in the arena then it will be done now, today, as I will not let this slight pass. The Thraks have been a cancerous sore upon the glory of Moria, and they should be removed." Again Rukghash pauses, eyes passing over the crowds here assembled. "If we are to fight in the arena, it will determine the fate of the Thraks. And if we are to fight in the arena I will bring with me the Southron who is one of my troops, Ezmakh, senior Hammerer, and Mol, Hammerer Troll."

Dhygrukh continues to beckon the Thrakburzum heads. "It might seem..." he growls, though his tone is not antagonistic, "that Rukghash has not your favor. In my visit, I have seen that you allow the Thrakburzum to seize and jail his officers, but he is not allowed revenge even as another of them is killed today? These will duck a fight -- the king gives them another chance to avoid death with skulking." A genuinely inquisitive look flashes to the king. "Why do you hate your strongest servant Rukghash so?" Though unused so far, the broadsword of Dhygrukh still menaces the Thrakburzum present.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "Not only shall it happen today," booms Durbmog, "but it shall happen /now/. Rukghash, you shall lead the warriors whom you have named. Should the Thrakburzum skulk -- should they prove cowardly and be defeated -- why, then, I shall judge against them and they shall pay Rukghash tribute and weregild that satisfies him. And it shall be high indeed. If instead the Morghash should be defeated, likewise shall the Morghash suffer. Need we fear Thrakburzum ducking their fight, to the ruin of their good name and oftheir wealth?" He turns to peer at C'zakh and Ckrag. "Well?"

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak sneers back at Ckrag, disgust in his eyes, though he does not move as of yet as he listens to his Talashakh. He looks up at him, licking his lips until Rukghash finishes. Then he does not move, his eyes fall to the ground, being crushed as his name was not mentioned to fight. He takes another step back.

Mol watches both sides banter back and forth. All of the jostling and political plays confuses the overly excited olog and leaves his feeling stupid. His feeling of confusion are short-lived when the Morghash Chieftain speaks his name. Slowly the olog ambles over towards Rukghash. "Yeah. Mol forgot, yous Mols boss."

[Ezmakh(#19968)] "The Mighty ones will prevail," Ezmakh's hoarse voice is sounded once again, as a hand, and a glove, and scimitar held within, raise into the air sharply, "and the Thraks will fall." Again a twisted laughter come's out of the Malluk ob Morghash, after the announce of the Gothshaka. "At last.." a final hiss emerges, as he lowers the weapon back to his side.

[C'zakh(#30504)] As the Morghash begin to gather around their Talashakh, so do the Thrakburzum, and about a dozen of the Thrakburzum that are left from the earlier battalion gather around their Chieftain, brandishing weapons and gnashing teeth at their adversaries. Conflict seems imminent, yet through it all the command of the Gothshaka cuts, clear and cold and commanding. The Thrakburzum lower their weapons at C'zakh's, albeit reluctantly, and then the booming baritone voice of the Thrakburzum Talashakh rings out in answer to the Gothshaka's command. "I have but two champions to offer, mighty Gothshaka!" he bellows, voice ringing off of the stone walls, "Myself, and my Advisor Ckrag. There are no others...the third was slain by treachery." He turns towards Rukghash and bares his teeth in a snarl, "Two against Four, eh? You have the cards stacked neatly, dog. A troll and a foreigner, too. Even though the flame decreed that no orcs are to be involved in troll issues and no troll in orc issues. Yet you ignore this, you heretic!" He throws back his and laughs, loud and long and echoing. "If such are the rules of this, cannot I name the King himself as my other champion?!" he roars in challenge, smile wide and impetuous.

[Jhrog(#27547)] From out of the shadows of a nearby tunnel a troll of great size strides. The commotion these orcs have made has drawn it, and by the look on it's features it is neither pleased, nor happy to be here. With a look of utter hatred etched upon it's features, the troll stands motionless for but a moment at the lip of the tunnel, his gigantic club resting haphazardly upon one shoulder as he glares at the nearby orcs. Suddenly the voice of one orc booms out above the rest, and the troll's attention is brought swiftly to the speaker. This orc obviously is of more importance then the rest of filth around him, but the troll barely registers this. No, what he does register is that he is not only upset over being awakened from his slumber, he is quite hungry. Hardly registering the feud that is stewing between the two factions, this gigantic beast spots another like himself. Not normally sociable as it is, he glares at the other troll, again barely paying attention to the orcs.

[Rukghash(#11368)] "Gothshaka?" Rukghash question after the Thrakburzum Talashakh is finished. "Will you join in this fight as C'zakh requests?" The Hammerer's axe is held tightly at his side, his eyes glittering in the dark, torch-lit mines. The Thrakburzum Talashakh's words are ignored by Rukghash, his eyes concentrating upon the Gothshaka.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag bares his tusk bordered teeth malifically at the Morghash gathered against them. "Weak! WEAK! I knew your tribe was worthless! Ye Talashakh will not even fight yet BUYS trolls and hires mercenaries to fight for his people! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Master Guard crumples in laughter, leaning on his staff as he reins himself in swiftly to glare hotly at the opposite masses. "I'll take the Flame-cursed troll myself! Briiiiiiiing it!"

[Durbmog(#29406)]
The King's jaw bunches. His lip twists. "I'll fight if any of you fine lads wants to challenge me," rasps the King, in tones of great sarcasm as he taps his mail with a claw. "But it sounds to me as though the Master Guard doesn't object to fighting the troll. Well enough. C'zakh, select two warriors willing to fight for your cause."

Dhygrukh turns and nods at Durbmog, a look of quasi-admiration on his face. "So the king of this cavern is indeed just." Just then, the arrival of another Olog catches his eye, and it appears to be enough to bring concern to his features. However, he redirects his attention to the more immediate concern, and points his blade directly at C'zakh. "Or just you two might fight me alone, if you prefer." Now the smile of Dhygrukh cannot be missed as he winks at C'zakh. "Those numbers may be more to your liking, you crying whelp." The edge of anger on the Southron's voice, rarely heard, seems almost a voice alien to his usual tone.

[Mol(#17618)] 'Flame-cursed?' Mol cocks his head to the side, wondering if he heard correctly. The olog's hand tightens on his axe as his eyes bore down on the orc that spoke such slanderous words. In an explosion of action the olog is loose. A gutteral snarl pours from his lips as the avelanche of olog descends upon the Master Guard. "You take dat back!" It is obvious that the troll is not pleased at being called 'flame-cursed'.

[Ckrag(#23460)] "GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" A far from equal roar pours from the Master Guard's throat as he hurls himself at the onrush of the Olog. Booted feet pound the unyielding earth with fury unchecked as the old uruk crosses the no man's land between the two sides and meets the giant Mol in midair, spear before his shrieking body.

"Thrakburzum! Thrakburzum or Death!" Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "What is this?" snaps the King. "Who dares defy my commands? Skai! As the Master Guard seems so sure he can tackle the Troll, let him."

Mol does not relent as the foolish orc's spear jabs into the tender belly flesh of the beast. The orc draws blood but it is not enough to turn the raging olog. The hulking beast swings his axe around as the spear bites in. The axe isn't aimed at any part of the orc but it is swung very hard. "Mol not flame-cursed!"

Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe, but Ckrag parries the attack with his Spear!

[Rukghash(#11368)] The Morghash Talashakh grunts, his eyes turning away from the Gothshaka and to the enraged and rushing Master Guard. "It seems, Gothshaka. That the Thraks will no follow your plans. Ah well. It will be no loss once they're all dead." A smirk slips onto the face of Rukghash as Ckrag's spear dips into the stony hide of the great Olog. "You heard the Gothshaka, Mol. Kill him." Rukghash waves with his axe towards Ckrag, his fangs showing from beneath his cracked and cut lips. "As for you, C'zakh." Rukghash bellows, "You have no one willing to fight with you! Your tribe is too weak and you have failed. Your tribe and you will fall this day to the true strength of the Morian horde."

[C'zakh(#30504)] "The Flame has decreed that no troll would be involved in the matter of orcish tribes," C'zakh states, ignoring the insult of Dhygrukh, his eyes flicking past him to Jhrog, "Ho, troll!" He roars to the approaching Olog, "Will you fight for brethren for the sake of sport and for the sake of honoring the decree of the almighty Balrog?" However, no oppurtunity is the Talashakh given to name his other champions, as the huge mass of Olog plummets down towards the orc just scant inches from him, and crimson eyes widening to the size of dinner platters as he dives aside, armor clattering as stone olog crashes into the ground where he was seconds before. He rolls quickly to his feet, unholsters his mace, dons his helm and swings his shield forward. Yet no move does he make to involve himself yet.

[Jhrog(#27547)] So intent is Jhrog upon staring at this interloper, this troll that looks vaguely familiar, that he takes little notice of the arrogant words of one orc. Yet, his attention, his glare at Mol, is diverted when the mouthy rodent attacks the other troll. This gut-strike on the other troll is quite amusing to Jhrog. Stopping at the edge of the crowd, he lets forth a chuckle, his harsh, gutteral voice mocking the other troll.

C'zakh's gaze swivels to Rukghash, and it glints at anger at this insult and mockery. "Fight me then if you are so brave, mighty Talashakh ob Morghash!" he roars, twirling his and striding for the other Chieftain. "Fight me and show me what this 'true' strength of the Morian Horde is! Or are you afraid?" He scoffs, advancing slowly yet surely towards his adversary.

Dhygrukh is less concerned by Mol's proximity; he knows he is not in danger. The Southron is not usually easy to anger, but to have the Thrakburzum chiftain absolutely and completely ignore him is apparently too much for the Southron to bear. "Ignore a challenge and it will go away, eh?" He snorts, more animalistic in his annoyance. "Will this get your attention?" Dhyrgukh's broadsword is swung in an overhead chopping motion at C'zakh.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword... Your attack against C'zakh moderately wounds him!

[Ckrag(#23460)] A second roar pummels the thick hide of the olog as Ckrag falls to the ground, spear in hand. Quickly back to his feet, he deflects the massive creature's flailing axe and dips in again: This time aiming for it's tender genitals with a sweeping arc destined to rend them from their posts. Black, globular blood drips upon Ckrag from above in thick chunks.

Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

[Ezmakh(#19968)] "Let me have him, Talashakh" Ezmakh's tounge roll's by Rukghash's ear but louder. "As the winner of all fighting events, one of your servants can humiliate more those Thraks, yes." All that is said, though, before the interseption of Dhygrukh. Holding his scimitar ready and shiled in front, he adds "what says you, Talashakh?"

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog alights once more on Mol's discarded boulder, observing the developing free-for-all with distaste.

[C'zakh(#30504)] His focus entirely upon Rukghash, C'zakh forgets one of the primary rules that he learned of the ways of battle--always, always keep your head on a swivel. TWHACK! The short broadsword swings in, from the sky for all C'zakh is concerned, and the Talashakh stumbles under the fierce blow. "AKGH!" he roars, fierce frustration and rage boosting his strength, adrenaline and endurance. "Southron dog!" he thunders, identifying his attacker suddenly, "Stay out of what does not concern your foreign hide!" This is roars even as his tri-pronged mace is hefted up and down, aiming to take the Isengarder's knees even as the shield is thrust forward in an attempt to counter further sword-blows.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 18 hp's by C'zakh's attack...
...you have 92 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

Mol blinks as his axe doesn't connect with the orc. His pondering of what this all means is cut short by the spear of the Master guard. The blade comes close, too close to the olog's most sensitive areas. Mol lets out a yowl of displeasure and raises his axe above his head. With a roar the brings it down at the top of the orc's head. Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe, but Ckrag parries the attack with his Spear!

[Rukghash(#11368)] Rukghash's eyes flicker between fights, his axe twitching in his hand. Turning to Ezmakh, Rukghash grins. "Kill them all, Ezmakh." The Hammerer raises his axe into the air, turning to face the Talashakh ob Thrakbuzum beset by the Southron. "It seems you have angered the wrong orc, C'zakh." The Talashakh ob Morghash, however, does not move immediately, his eyes passing up towards the Gothshaka. "The weaker tribe will be purged here it seems, Lord Durbmog." A smirk again shows itself on the face of Rukghash. "The Morghash will be victorious."

[Ckrag(#23460)] Again the descending axe is deflected by the Master Guard's quick hands. The resounding thunk of metal connecting with wood echos loudly about the caverns. Grim determination fills Ckrag's eyes as he faces the fight of his life: Battle with a Titan of creatures. The Taskmaster snarls wildly as his attack strikes true, yet misses the mark. Again he slices toward the troll's genitals with feverish focus etched eerily upon his features. Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Dhygrukh strides after C'zakh, so casually that he is caught off-gaurd by the mace which crahes painfully into the left leg of the Southron, deterred mercifully by the lower range of his mail tunic. "It appears this -- does -- concern me." A smile in his face aas the sword is raised like a cleaver. "I cannot idly watch fools lead any force to disorganized ruin." The blade falls toward the smaller C'zakh, the Southron working it more like a butcher than a swordsman.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] Your attack against C'zakh lightly wounds him!

Durbmog snorts. "This doesn't /look/ like the Coliseum. Call off your Hammerer, Rukghash, and let us observe these duels. C'zakh and Mol, as the Thrakburzum so aptly point out, are not Morghash. This is a purely personal duel. Sit down by me and watch."

Mol cries out in anger as the orc keeps avoiding his attacks. "Stop moving!" Again the orc's spear strikes close to the olog's genitals. This time the olog simply swats at the orc, quicker, trying to get him away from that area of the olog. "Stop hitting Mol dere!" Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe, but Ckrag parries the attack with his shield!

[C'zakh(#30504)] "UNG!" C'zakh grunts, as the swort broadsword so skillfully wielded pierces his armor and cuts deep, followed by a sudden upwelling of black ichor as it is withdrawn. The Talashakh does not stumble, nor reply to the Southron--he plants his stout legs in a wide base and swings again, concentrating still on attempting to deflect the powerful sword blows with his shield, lest they strike a third time.

[Rukghash(#11368)] "Hold, Ezmakh. Do as the King orders and stay your hand." The Morghash Talashakh reaches out as if to stop Ezmakh before moving onwards towards the King. "The Thrakburzum will fall here." Rukghash says idly approaching to boulder. "And the Southron is one of mine, he came to me and submitted himself to my ranks." the Talashakh waves his hand off towards Dhygrukh, while his eyes settle upon the Troll. "But yes, Mol is not a Morghash, but a worker of mine."

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

[Ckrag(#23460)] Quickness it seems is the only thing protecting the Master Guard from his ultimate fate. Oblivious of the shockwave that insues, Ckrag bats at the axe curving towards him with his left arm carefully sleeved in tempered leather. Usually slivered eyes widen and bulge as they frantically attempt to keep the old one alive and far from the wide weapon above. A third time does he swat at the hanging genitals now criss-crossed by lines of dripping goop.

Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Dhygrukh sidesteps the mace and lets his blade fall again, this time at an angle as he brings the odd weapon down and across his body with a backhand stroke. Like his antogonist, Dhygrukh does not speak, nor does he recognize (or perhaps hear) the pleas of Durbmog for calm. His eyes are transfixed in a lust for destruction at the moment; the entire world to Dhygrukh seems to lie in the dismemberment of his foe.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh]
C'zakh dodges your attack.

Mol is expecting the orc's spear to go to the same place this time. He turns and doesn't try to block the attack, letting it drive into his thigh. As it does the olog turns back towards the orc. His axe lashes out quickly, driven by anger and pain. The axe slickes the air and carves a path aimed at the little orc's neck. Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

Grohmlin is drawn to the sounds of battle like maggots to dead meat. Indeed, that may be his purpose here, for the creepy crawley orc immediatly heads towards the two dead bodies that lie on the cold stone floor. He hovers over the body of the she-orc Prakh, shaking his head and clucking his tounge. "Tsk tsk. Dead dead."

[C'zakh(#30504)] C'zakh sidesteps, and the sword whistles through air, missing the Talashakh's neck by mere inches. The Thrakburzum chieftain heaves a soft sigh of relief but moves swiftly again, his training and instinct taking over, telling him to take advantage of his opponent's miss to attack. He strides forward with the left leg and swings, a tight horizontal loop for Dhygrukh's hip.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 22 hp's by C'zakh's attack...
...you have 70 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Ckrag(#23460)] One attack in the same place too many. 'Damn my overzealousy' he curses himself as the mighty Olog's axehead rends a decent gash at the hand attempting to sway it. "A lucky strike," the orc's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "It will be your last." Feinting toward the dangling genitals, the Master Guard brings the spear around, attempting to bury the blade deep into the Troll's knee from the rear. Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "Is he?" Durbmog simply chuckles. "Well, we'll leave it single combat for now. If C'zakh wins ..." He snorts. "Skai! Watch the Southron move. He's vicious and very fast, but I'm not sure how solid his defenses are -- ah, that looks painful."

Mol again tries to dodge the genital shot but the orc is tricky and manages to jab the back of the olog's knee. The attack isn't hard but it catches the olog's attention. It is time to stop toying with the orc. Mol slaps out with a wicked backhand at the body of the orc, hoping to knock him back so he must charge the troll again. Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

Dhygrukh misses with his haphazard chopping, and now more carefully measures his attacks. Raising his blade again, he is smacked again by the weapon of his shorter foe. "Ah, runt..." he mutters through breath as he shakes his head. Now taking more the stance of a swordsman, he lashes out with a more formulated, technically sound swipe of his sword at the junction of C'zakh's shoulder and neck.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] C'zakh parries your attack with his Mace!

[Ckrag(#23460)] And nocked back he is.. Ckrag is reduced to a huddled mass of old bones as the massive creature's lacing backhand sends him sailing to the fortunately nearby wall. Gathering himself in a fit of adrenaline-induced bloodrage, the Master Guard hurls himself viciously at the huge Olog's underbelly, once more very airborne. Bits of blood, armor, and hacked leather splurt from Ckrag's hurtling figure.

Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Grohmlin reaches into a crude bag that is slung over his shoulder, little more than a rough sheet of heavy cloth, tied into a container. From it he draws another heavy sheet. With deft motions, he bundles the dead body around the middle. Not a bandage, more like just something to hold the guts in. With strength betraying his spindly body, he hefts the corpse onto his shoulder and makes to leave. "Hmm. No head? No problem. Can still deal with." He nods his head in some sort of senseless logic that only he would understand.

[C'zakh(#30504)]
*CLANG!* Weapons of the two completely different orcs meet--one a scout and an Uruk-Hai, the other a cave-dweller and a common uruk. White hot sparks fly from the huge force that is suddenly sent to a screeching halt between their weapons, and C'zakh's muscles bulge as they strain to hold back the bestial strength of his foe. He then steps in, attempting to take advantage of his parry to strike a blow of his own, thrusting his shield for Dhygrukh's gut and his mace on downward arc for the Southron's kneecap.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

[Hausnak(#31414)] Hausnak stands, his mace being placed back into his belt not far from the rest of the Morghash. A broad smile is planted across his face as he watches Ckrag fight the troll.

[Rukghash(#11368)] Rukghash grunts, wincing as the mace strike the Southron and Spear digs into the troll. "Gothshaka, surely you do not wish the Thrakburzum weakness to persist in the mines? Why not wipe them out here, for good, and strengthen your horde in doing so?" The Talashakh's brow furrows slightly, though he stands away from the boulder a bit, looking up towards the towering Lord of Moria.

[Mol(#17618)] A grin erupts on Mol's face as the orc charges. Mol raises his axe over his head and waits a split second. Just as teh orc's spear drives into Mol's belly the olog swings. It is a viscious attack, hoping to use Mol's terrible strength and the orc's own momentum to kill him. The axe is aimed straight for the orc's skull.

Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe, but he misses by a handspan.

Dhygrukh looks pleased to have at least a worthy battle on his hands as he steps back from another attack, watching the mace arc before his knee. Grunting, he touches at the shield on his back, but elects instead to strike again with his blade instead. Crossing the arc of his earlier attack, Dhygrukh flashes his blade out again at the opposite shoulder of the Thrakburzum chieftain.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword... Your attack against C'zakh moderately wounds him!

[Ezmakh(#19968)] "All are to fight, but myself, eh?" Ezmakh grunts, still looking around at both duels. Suddenly some spark emerges in his eyes, an idea has come to his mind. Slowly he reaches his left hand, as the fingers are object free to his belt, where there is a small bulging handle ready, he almost grasps it, but waits, for now.

[Ckrag(#23460)] *WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH* A thick layer of Ckrag's lanky hair flurry like rotted rain upon the gathering below as the Troll's broad axe rids the Master Guard of his problem with lice. The old uruk considers soiling his pants, but other ideas such as survival and the keeping of one's limbs intercede. Dropping to the ground once more, he instead feints to the damaged knee and drives again solidly at the dangling genitalia; intent upon ridding the Olog of his means of reproduction.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "An entire tribe?" Durbmog shakes his head. "There are good lads in the Thrakburzum, and they are numerous. The Flame wants warriors, not corpses." His gaze turns introspective. "Mayhap they'll learn a lesson this day ... and in coming days. I am not convinced that their officers will survive the day."

Ckrag attacks Mol with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

[C'zakh(#30504)] The southron's blow strikes true for yet a third time, an excellent shot that slips underneath the stout orc's shoulder plates to pierce deep into the muscular shoulders of the former smith. A grunt is all that is given even as blood pours forth, though the true pain has not yet come to the Talashakh's senses. He spins away, ripping the sword from his skin most unceremoniously, but he uses the momentum of the spin to aim a blow at the Southron's throat, aiming to tear the jugular vein in one fell stroke. He takes a step back after swinging, holding shield in front and mace to the
side.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 15 hp's by C'zakh's attack...
...you have 55 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.

[Mol(#17618)] The momentum of the missed attack takes Mol off balance and leaves him open to the orc's spear. Lucky for Mol, trolls have tough hides. The spear does not break skin but it does bruse the olog. Finally Mol decides to fight like the orc. He swings his axe low, very low. The great blade aimed spot the orc's legs join.

Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe and terribly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "/You/ shall not rule the Thrakburzum, Rukghash," Durbmog murmurs in low but deliberately audible tones. "Be content to be Lord of Morghash."

Dhygrukh grunts as another attack rings off the shoulder of the Uruk-Hai, visibly enough to sting him. he grunts, pained by the blow. Even so, he shows a bit of a grin with the delight of the battle, and moves again to strike at the chieftain with an overhead chop -- though the blow is tempered by the sting of the mace strike still resonating within Dhygrukh.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] Your attack against C'zakh moderately wounds him!

Grohmlin heads for the deepest parts of Moria, carrying the corpse of the dead Prakh over one shoulder. As he passes by an idle work cart, he grabs a pickaxe with his unencombered hand, clearly planning on doing some digging. Thugh while most diggers wish to take stuff -out- of the mine, Grohmlin aims to put stuff in. He chuckles senselessly to himself and looks over his shoulder at the gathered throng.

[Mashug(#9437)] "A troll and a foreigner!" Says Mashug, now at the king's side. "Aye! That is the strength of the Morghash! And strong they call themselves! And wise! Smart, perhaps, treacherous for sure! And to all this our great king watches passivly. And already you call Rukghash Lord! Are you that certain that without the Thrakburzum around, he won't try to take yer crown?"

[Ckrag(#23460)] *THUNK*
"Ghaglhughglhgh.." Ckrag lies uselessly at the mercilous base of the nearby wall once again. Blood gurgles freely from a neat ghash extending from his lower left armpit to the upper portion of his bubbling gullet. Ink-soaked arms wade through the perverbial molasses of massacred thought processes, trying desperately to hold the spear before him; outthrust as if a barb for the Troll to impale himself upon. Ckrag sits and waits to die.

[Ezmakh(#19968)] "Skai! I will just stand here and miss all the fun." Ezmakh grunts greatly angered after moments of standing and looking pass. "History is at being today, I will not run away from it." And then, with the words of Mahug, he smirks evvily again and shouts back "And who are you maggot to speak? Come an face me, yes, or perhaps you are in fear"Thus ignoring the hand of Rukghash from now, the senior hammerer approaches the Thrakburzum Guard, getting ready to strike.

[C'zakh(#30504)] Again the sword bites, not deep but still enough to slash his armor open against, and the keen blade turns aside the metal squares sewn into the leather armor like a child's playthings. C'zakh is torn and bloodied, and his death seems inevitable, but adrenaline and instinct keeps him battling, as he swings again, stepping forwards to counter Dhygrukh and thrusting his shield at the Southron's face while swinging at the -Hai's weapon wrist.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Short Broadsword!

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King steps forward, drawing his hammer. "Strike that Thrakburzum and die, Hammerer. You'll not break my orders and live." He turns to Mashug. "Speak your piece. If you speak wisely I shall allay your concerns. Otherwise I will punish you."

[Rukghash(#11368)] Rukghash holds his hands out to his sides, submissively. "As you wish, Gothshaka, but I do not relish watching my fighters and officers die through duels." The Talashakh shrugs, watching with a smirk as Mol sends Ckrag flying across the room. "Good, Hammerer Mol!" Rukghash booms, his eyes now turning back to the Southron's fight, though he pauses upon Mashug.

Horvak meanders his way into the mines.

Mol walks over to the Master Guard, slowly, giving him time to think about what is to come. "You fight good. You charge at charging troll. Dat brave, but stupid." The olog raises his axe over his head. "Mol not flame-cursed and yous is dead." The axe falls, aimed at the orc's neck. It seems Mol wants to take the head of the orc that has quite a few heads of his own.

Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe and severely wounds him!

Garthang arrives from the Trade Hall.
Garthang has arrived. Garthang arrives with his sick orc waddle and looks about.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "An eye for an eye, Talashakh Morghash," snaps the King. "Unless you see fit to suggest that I should prevent casualties by permitting tribal war?"

Dhygrukh inverts his blade with a movement of forearm and wrist, driving away the heavy weapon of the Thrakburzum chieftain with a clang. In an equally rapid motion, he brings his arm up and to the right to move his sword in an arc aimed across C'zakh's chest." Between breaths, a grunted offer. "Relinquish your rank and live. You can bear my baggage back home when it comes time for me to leave." You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] C'zakh parries your attack with his Mace!

[Ezmakh(#19968)] It seems like the flame wishes to take all joy from the senior hammerer this day. The Hammerer hakts his wapproach to Mashug, holding the scimitar already in the air to strike forward with much displease. "Accusing our Talashakh in plotting against the gothshaka cannot be taken lightly." Ezmakh mutters to himself enraged, the red orbs upon his face getting a burning pattern. "no matter tribal duels or not."

Horvak blinks at the large population of orcs and trolls in the room. "Uhm, what's going on? I don't think its my birthday yet?" The large troll blinks stupidly.

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag gurgles loudly as the axe descends, yet sags himself to the side in a last-ditch death defying effort to save his skin. *Flop* The Master Guard's arm is relieved at the elbow by the hissing axe. Unable to speak, yell, or cry out in pain, the old uruk stares defiantly at the towering Olog almost pitifully as he begins to crall with one hand toward the remainder of the Thrakburzum horde and newly arrived Horvak. A thick trail of smeared black follows him as inches forward, looking now toward the Lord of Trolls almost pleadingly.

[Garthang(#27032)] From above comes the orc Garthang. Hearing the commotion, he has come hoping that when the fight is over, he might take a weapon from a dead orc. His yellow eyes dart about as the fight rolls around

[C'zakh(#30504)] "No." Is the simple answer from the Thrakburzum Talashakh, perhaps it is not pride that causes him to say this, nor honor, perhaps it is just the bred stubbornness of this orc. He brings up his weapon to deflect the weapon of the former Isengarder for a second time, and like before he struggles to maintain his guard up. "AKKGH!" he suddenly roars, tucking in his shield close to his body, moving his mace to the left and then swinging in a backhand stroke for Dhygrukh's hip. He leaves his right side unprotected, but the orc attempts to counter that by shuffling backwards and to the left of his opponent. [#23460] Ckrag says, "Great numbers."

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "I am King," snarls Durbmog harshly, stepping menacingly towards Ezmakh. "Either the accusation is ridiculous and baseless or you seek to suppress information that /I/ must be privy to. Therefore, keep out of this." He turns roughly to Mashug, growling, "Well? Speak!"

[Mashug(#9437)] The bold guard sets one knee on the ground, his face to the ground in reverence to the king. "There is Law in Moria, that you have written, lord, and that law is to be followed, so that the whole horde will grow stronger and will not make war on itself. And what have the Morghash done in the later days, aside from plotting and ambushing? Yes, there's also a deal of plotting in the Thrakburzum tribe, but never to that level. Do you now trust a southron more than your boys? Will you not see that his words are venom, and that the Morghash are already poisoned? Will you not reconsider, lord, and put up a fair challenge to Ckrag and C'zakh?"

[Rukghash(#11368)] "Tribal war would not benefit the horde, Gothshaka. I know that all too well. It is just that I do not enjoy /watching/ a fight over /my/ tribe." Rukghash voice is gruff, his eyes shifting back to Ezmakh and Mashug.

Horvak scratches his head as he watched orc pound orc and troll pound orc. "Hrmmm...there's a war going on? Who started war?" The massive creature looks horribly confused at the sight of the ensueing melee. "Hmm...there's kingie? Maybe me ask him?" With a shrug the black beast takes a hold of his axe and moves toward the King.
[Combat(#13388)] Horvak wields Big Stone Axe.

Dhygrukh sidesteps the vicious attack of C'zakh, despite soreness already setting in from heavy mace blows. "Then let it not be said the pride of the Raven clan was not generous in making the offer." A wind-up, and the broadsword cuts another horizontal path toward the upper left arm of the Thrakbruzum Talashakh. Cruel glee shows in the eyes of Dhygrukh. You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh]
C'zakh dodges your attack.

Mol blinks with suprise as the orc does die but manages to save his life, for now. Mol kicks at the severed arm and then looks towards the olog Lord. A grin crosses Mol's face before he turns back to the crawling orc. "Ok. Dis time Mol mena it. Die!" Again the olog raises his axe and brings it down at the orc's neck. The olog should have killed the orc long ago but he is tired and only toying with him. Yes, that is it.

Mol attacks Ckrag with his Battle Axe and terribly wounds him!

Durbmog's Dush fan silently out about the King; two glare at Ezmakh, two watch Mashug quietly. "Ckrag himself said he'd take on Mol," sneers the King. "I permitted this fight, and he was proven overconfident. As for C'zakh, he seems content enough with his duel." As Horvak approaches lumberingly, the King leaps back onto the fallen boulder. "Horvak. You look well-rested and hearty. It's nice to see you in such excellent health."

C'zakh does not reply to Dhygrukh, not that his statement required an answer anyways, but instead concentrates all his energies on avoiding that swinging blade of his foe. And in a show of surprising agility for his bulk, C'zakh does, ducking down and letting the blade whistle over his head. Now in his crouched position, C'zakh swings hard, straight for the Southron's groin. If he cannot win this fairly, then he will win it cheaply. Typical orcish reasoning.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Short Broadsword!

[Ckrag(#23460)] Ckrag belches forth bile, rot, and black, oozing blood as his eyelids slide skyward with the Troll's axe in his mid-back. Life, it seems, exits the old orc with it in a rush of liquid-choked breath. Thrakburzum Advisor and Master Guard is no more; Troll fodder and fit for trampling in the hog pens.

Mashug nods and raises. "If that is so, i will not speak more. Let this fight end and /hope/ that the Morghash will prove to be trustful." He looks at Grohmlin, a look of dispise in his face, and turns away. "I will be in the Feasting Halls if anyone needs me, i will not stay and watches this carnificine take place. With your leave, king!" With that he turns and walks away.

[<#19968>] Ezmakh grunts once more to himself, and thinks of a reply to the Gothshaka as well as his intentions were probably misdisplayed to be understtod correctly. But as it seems, at least to him, that the king doesn't mind him as long as he /doesn't/ interefere with Mashug, the senior Hammerer starts walking away, quickening a bit the paces seeing the coming of Horvak. His way is back to his Talashakh, though his eyes lock upon the exit upwards. "... ... ... ... ... ... ...," He hisses into Rukghash's ear, stop his walk, "... fear ... ... ... ... favour ... the ..., yes, yes. ... shall ... ... ... .... ... are ... ... ... ... ... ...!"

Horvak arm twitches as he heft his axe. "Hmmm, Kingie you jump back like a skunk encountering hot coals....Errrmmm, what all this fighting about. Dere not civil war again is there? And why one of my trolls fighting?" Horvak blinks, then shouts to Mol, "Hey, why you kill dat orc?"

Mol looks up from his kill as the Olog-hai and the king. "Dis orcie said Mol was Flame-cursed and said he could beat me." Mol looks down at the corpse and then swings his axe again, taking the head of the orc. "He was wrong." The olog takes the head and starts to walk over towards Horvak.

Dhygrukh Leans forward with his shoulders and he pulls his midsection backwards, the mace of C'zakh brushing against the lower part of his mail tunic even as he swats away the weapon crudely with his own short broadsword. Dhygrukh allows himself but a moment to glance at his surrounding -- and one or more of the new entities present -- as he brings his blade back across his body in a backhand stroke aimed at the flesh of C'zakh's neck.

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog sneers, slipping an arm through the straps of his shield. "The Southron and the Thrakburzum Chieftain had a disagreement. I am permitting their duel. The same goes for Mol and the Master Guard. There was some question about a point of religious beliefs, and I permitted them to battle. Have a seat. This should be interesting to watch. Don't sit on any of my orcs."
[Combat(#13388)] Durbmog puts on Wooden Shield.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh]
C'zakh dodges your attack.

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang is lost in the comotion, but seeing Grohmlin with the dead Scout Maluuks body, he hurries over to him. "Here Tetrak, let me take the body, you need not burden youself." he says with a very servant like attitude.

Horvak nods to his fellow troll. "Why take head, when you got the best part sitting there. You never had Misty Mountain fruit before. They small, but awfully tasty." The troll shrugs and then turns toward the King. "OK...me watch...me not sit on any orcs on purpose like." The troll begins to needlessly shoo orcs away from a large boulder. The orcs are fleeing of their own accord.

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang looks about for something to Pillage. Still without a weapon, he hopes to find a free body from which to gain something useful. An axe is foremost in his mind.

Mol pauses, "Mol never had dem." Mol puts his axe away and goes back to the orc's body. He tenderly picks up the broken corpse and heads back toward Horvak. He finds a boulder and sets himself down. "You sure you can taste dem?" Mol looks under the orc's trousers. "Dey really small."

[Ezmakh(#19968)] "Indeed, Talashakh, I will," Ezmakh spits in reply and anger, "for I carry much. But now I shall go, one ofthe shamans demanded my presence when possible." With that he nods firmly and turns towards the exit. His walk is quick and enraged, as he spits on the way purposely upon the body of the Master Guard.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "If you can stomach that carcass, Mol," snickers the King, "I'll let you eat it."

[Hausnak(#31414)] Watching the battles with glee, Hausnak makes his way slowly over towards the Talashakh. He hisses and spits as he walks, a large grin on his face as he watches the Master Guard get killed by the troll.

Horvak sits on one of the boulders. Gingerly moving his rear back and forth on the rocky surface, testing and listening for a scream. The troll nods to Mol, "Yep. They really small, but awfully tasty. Trust me. You'll like them. It even taste better when they alive. Horgruk used to harvest tons of them. Never knew where he got them, but they awfully good. Kind a like that old jelly, Auntie M used to make." Horvak smiles reminiscently.

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang, still feeling his lack of weapons, makes a seemingly stupid move. Walking towards the troll Mol, he looks up and call. "Garthang need weapon. Troll give Garthang weapon maybe?" his desperation driving him to what appears to be suicide.

[C'zakh(#30504)] Like his opponent, C'zakh pulls back, allowing his throat to dodge the short broadsword. However, he does not take any step with his feet, instead holding his ground, staying close to the Southerner in order to combat the other's longer reach. He hefts up shield and springs forwards, kicking at Dhygrukh's knee, thrusting his shield down towards towards the southerner's gut and swinging his mace levelly--chest level for the shorter orc.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Short Broadsword!

Dhygrukh again pulls in his abdomen in an odd lurch to dodge the heavy weapon, now losing himself in the joy of a decent competition. Even as he steps back to avoid the blow, the steps forward with his right foot to allow a hacking chop at the Thrakburzum chieftain. "Resilient," he mutters. You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] Your attack against C'zakh badly wounds him!

Mol reaches down with a big hand and grasps tightly. With a sharp tug the succulent morsels come free. Mol holds the two culinary delights up infront of his face. With a shrug the olog pops one into his mouth. He chews slowly, savoring the flavor. "Horvak right, des are good." Mol then glances down at the orc requesting weapons. "Mol not have weapon. It over dat way. Look for blood."

Horvak watches the orcs fighting each other. He nods and remarks to the King, "Pity our cook ran away. Funny thing is the old Warlord ran after him...well chased really...er, that's another story. Anyway, I have boon to ask. It seems there that this troll," Horvak gestures at Mol, "has not been educated in the ways of troll delicacies. Uhm, would you be willing to turn over the loser of the battle between the Southron and the Chieftain for quick harvesting of their fruit. What you say?" The troll look inquisitively at the King.

[C'zakh(#30504)] The Thrakburzum Chieftain's last move was aggressive and reckless, and he paid for it. Dhygrukh's blade moves in and out of him before he has time to say 'Southron dog', and he staggers as blood wells up from his many wounds. He is badly wounded and he knows it--his vital systems are one by one failing the Chieftain, and it seems that only adrenaline keeps him going. "RRRRGH!" he roars, a mindless howl of rage, fury, and pain combined, and he hefts up his mace again, swinging it in an overhand blow towards the southerner's head, aiming to break his helm and crush his skull.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

[Rukghash(#11368)] "That was a hit!" Rukghash chuckles, reeling back slightly as the Southron's sword cuts C'zakh badly. As C'zakh retaliates, and misses, Rukghash allows a smirk to creep onto his face. "I do not think C'zakh will last much longer at this rate, Lord Durbmog. He seems to be faltering."

Dhygrukh barely bothers to shrug his head back at C'zakh's desperation mace attack comes up short. "A shame he does not know to give up," he grunts low in his throat as he shakes his head. "Though at least the whining seems at an end." The Uruk-Hai steps back and swings a level stroke with his blade, as if chopping at a tree.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] C'zakh parries your attack with his shield!

[Durbmog(#29406)] "If one of them dies, you may request the loser's carcass from the winner. Those who fail and die lie in the hands of those who overcome and live." Durbmog folds his hands. "But I promise nothing. Perhaps you'd do better to purchase pigs for such purposes, Troll Lord. Prices are down, I'm told."

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang hurries off to find the weapon. Splashing through the blood and cursing. "Dam beast! Why not bleed good. where weapon?" his yellow eyes search for his prize. He stomps and blood splashes. But still no weapon.

Horvak looks irritably at the King but shrugs. "Fair enough, Kingie." He shouts to the combatants. "Heya. You two southron and chieftain. Me have proposition for winner. You let me purchase loser off of you. I want to harvest some delicacies for me trolls here. What do you say, eh?"

Bashnak climbs down the steps, having heard the shouts and ruckus that only a large group or orcs can make. He meanders over to Rukghash and Durbmog, watching the two fighting until his reaches his destination, when he drops to one knee and spreads his arms wide in a gesture of respect. "Strength to you, Gothshaka. And to you as well, Talashakh." In a lower voice he inquires, "Not to interrupt you, but what is going on?"

[C'zakh(#30504)]
*CLACK!* The southron's fell stroke sweeps in, but training triumphs over the screams of C'zakh's failing body to simply drop over and die. He angles the shield, shunting aside the attack as Durbmog himself had taught him long ago. Then pivoting around his shield, he grunts as he swings his mace again, the action becoming harder and harder every time he does it. Yet he continues, stubborn and fighting to the last.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!

Dhygrukh wears a look of disbelief at the resilience of his chieftain even as he moves to finish him. As another feeble swipe of C'zakh's mace passes before him, he shakes his head. "At least you finally fought well when forced to." Dhygrukh grunts and hacks again with his broadsword, again now using more of a butcher's stroke than a swordsman's.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] Your attack against C'zakh severely wounds him!

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang listens to Horvak's words and a glint comes into his eyes. Shuffling along to Horvak, he looks up at the troll. "Garthang want know, if you get corpse, maybe you give weapon to Garthang?" he asks hopefully, "Troll not need tiny little orc weapon."

Horvak peers down at the little orc..."You see a battle going on here? Pick up a weapon!"

[Garthang(#27032)] The 'little orc' shudders at the trolls glance. With a tiny squeak, he rushes off, not wanting to be made that which the loser might become. He runs looking for a corpse which loot.

Mol pops the second tender nugget of flavor into his waiting maw. He chews ever so slowly and delicately, for a troll anyway. As Mol eats he starts to pull off the clothing and equipment of the Master Guard. "Dis is a waste. Makes orc meat hard to get too." the olog tosses aside his shield and helm before he start to work on his mail.

[C'zakh(#30504)] CRUNCH! Dhygrukh's weapon strikes again, this time with a sickening crunch as tendons are severed and bones shattered in the Chieftain's right leg. He looks down at it with amazement, almost as if he was viewing someone else's leg crumple like a bloody piece of rubber. He attempts to pull himself straighter, but the leg buckles beneath him, and his powerful last shot is innaccurate and wild...perhaps hitting the southron, perhaps not. But all the same C'zakh falls to his knees, a mere foot from Dhygrukh, and looks blearily up at him. "Finish me," he rasps, voice a creaking hiss beneath his mask, "You have bested me. Finish me as a warrior." He then slowly hauls himself to his feet, his mace a crutch for his shattered femur, and stands as straight as possible before the foreigner, tipping his chin up slightly to look Dhygrukh in the eyes for the last time. His pain-twisted face is not visible through the black steel of his mask.

C'zakh attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Short Broadsword!

[Garthang(#27032)] Garthang sees Mol toss the stuff and leaps. Like a mad creature he hurries for the items. As he moves he looks up at the troll with a grin, "Garthang like things. They good!" he grins madly. But as he looks at the troll, the helmet strikes his face, causing him to fall back with a yelp of surprise.

Dhygrukh, though ealier too engrossed to respond, casts a glance at Horvak, aware of the dangers of ignoring queries of Ologs. Not speaking in his frenzy, the Uruk-Hai merely nods, black blood from C'zakh's wounds dripping down his face. As he does so, he almost allows C'zakh to strike him. Now, in response to C'zakh's request, he grits his teeth. Turning back rapidly toward the chieftain, the southron brings his broadsword around in a roundhouse motion aimed across the neck of C'zakh, powerful but slow and wild.

You attack C'zakh with your Short Broadsword...
[Combat(#13388)->Dhygrukh] Your attack against C'zakh terribly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King watches with frown, and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command. His claws click silently together.

Mol finally pulls the chain mail off the orc and is about to toss it aside when he pauses. "Umm Mol keep dis." the olog looks down at the orc near his feet. "You keep dat stuff. MOl let you cause Mol is nice." The olog nods vigorously.

[Horvak(#27357)] The troll's large tongue wets his lower lip at the sight of the Chieftain's blood and gore. "Mmmm....dem good eats. I love it when orcs battle orcs. No need to bury em...free meat for everyone." The troll chortles.

[Rukghash(#11368)] Rukghash's eyes flash to Bashnak briefly, "A battle, Bashnak, or sorts anyways. The Thrak leadership has been decimated this day." The Talashakh ob Morghash turns back in time to see another swing from the Southron's blade come crashing into the body of the Thrakburzum Talashakh.

Bashnak grins, folding his arms as he takes up a position near Rukghash to ensure no stray blades approach his person. "Cut off the snake's head and the body shall die. Wise reasoning, Talashakh." He falls silent to watch the final blow fall on the defeated Talashakh.

[Dathluk(#29112)] Seemingly out of nowhere, a form appears. It comes from shadow, and in shadow is wreathed. The creature is Dathluk the Wounded, and he comes to be directly behind the King. He may not approach closer for the guards already eye him most disapporvingly. He whispers softly with a low and heavy tongue, over the heads of guards, "Glorious battle is today. What is the reason, Hand of the Flame?"

[C'zakh(#30504)]
*THWACK!* Slow and wild Dhygrukh's swing may be, but the power is sufficient to kill C'zakh, though not decapitate him. The swords broad blade buries itself into the soft flesh of the Thrak Chieftain's throat, but as it begins to cut through the spine it comes to a sudden halt, the bone halfway severed by blade. Nonetheless that is no wound that one merely steps away from. C'zakh hardly goes gracefully, and despite knowing the blow was coming, he struggles, gasping and snarling, his limbs flailing out in all directions, one hand clutching at the blade in his blood. But finally he dies, slowly, with a long, gurgling sigh as blood wells up past the blood to pool in his mouth and out across his chin, to finally drip to the floor in the gap of his helm. Those fierce red eyes glint for a final time, then dilate and go blank. C'zakh, Talashakh ob Thrakburzum, formerly Maluuk of the Ghashobazogs, and prior to that Cobug of the Morghash, is dead. His blood falls to the floor, his mighty mace drops with a clatter, and his limbs go limp and dead, but he stays aloft, held up like grotesque puppet by the string that is Dhygrukh's sword. A parting insult to a Talashakh that who no longer lives to hear laughter of his foes and adversaries. His black mask still rests upon his head, the black steel that once marked him as a cold destroyer now portrays him as just another dead orc. Just another faceless corpse among the hordes of the slain.

Bashnak scratches his chin in thought. "I think it would be appropriate for you to... confiscate that mace, Talashakh. A sense of poetic justice. The power of the Talashakh ob Thrakburzum resting in the Talashakh ob Morghash's hands." He nods in affirmation to his own idea, pleased at his creativity.

[Durbmog(#29406)] Hearing Bashnak, Durbmog rises. "We think not," he booms.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "Dhygrukh," rumbles the King, "you are victorious. You have slain a mighty foe today and proven before me the superior strength of your cause."

Dhygrukh shakes his blade free of C'zakh's spine, allowing the lifelesss Talashakh to drop to the ground. Just as C'zakh's life has faded, so too has Dhygrukh's passion. He looks about quickly for other foes, then shakes blood from his blade. The black liquid spatters those nearby as he replaces his weapon in a scabbard. "Take what your tribe will," he says coldly and emotionlessly to Rukghash as he gestures idly at C'zakh's corpse -- it is as if Dhygrukh's brief display of emotion never took place. Calm, aloof, he looks again Durbmog's way. "Order will follow from this example." His tone is not persuasive, merely a recitation. "Far less expensive than a prolonged feud. Now, I will rebuild you an organized force if you please." From Dhygrukh's ambivalent tone, it appears he has little interest in whether or not the king will endorse the maneuver.

[Rukghash(#11368)] The Talashakh ob Morghash nods, "As the Gothshaka says, I will take nothing." Rukghash stands still, his axe held loosely at his side. "You fought well again, Southron. Very well indeed."

[Durbmog(#29406)] The King moves fluidly forward, his armor catching the light, casting red beads of light across the chamber and along the black walls. "We now have a choice as to the disposition of Thrakburzum," booms the Gothshaka of Moria, gesturing towards the carcass with his ebon hammer. "Its Chieftain and his servant have perished. Dhygrukh, you offer to reorganize Thrakburzum on more efficient lines. This is what I say: you may ascend to the position of Chieftain of Thrakburzum if you will swear loyalty to the Flame which dwells beneath the Mines, fealty to the King of Moria who rules the mines. That is the first choice we offer." The King waits quietly, watches the Southron with pale intent eyes.

Dhygrukh nods, showing no hint of the degree to which the option appeals to him, as he awaits quietly the second choice. True to form, Dhygrukh's impassive features betray nothing untill all options are considered and it is deemed time to reveal a decision.

Horvak chortles. "A Southron offering his loyalty is like a fox offering to guard hens." The troll continues to laugh derisively.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "You doubt the Flame's power to bind and control, Lord of Trolls?" Durbmog's voice is mild, but there is faint scorn beneath it. "You doubt that a vow of loyalty to the Demon will not be binding? I have seen the Flame. I have journeyed into the Demon's Lair. There is nothing to match its power. Nothing." Durbmog turns back to Dhygrukh. "The second option is this: from among the Thrakburzum I shall select a Chieftain, and you shall serve as adviser to this Chieftain."

Dathluk falls silent and still as he is ignored and Dhygrukh addressed.

Horvak shakes his head in disgust, "You twist my words, Kingie. I do not doubt the Flame's power. I doubt whether this one will make a vow to the Beast or make one properly for that manner. He is a spy, sent here by that which should not be named. You are a fool to trust him." The troll moves off the boulder.

[Garthang(#27032)] Having finally gathered his gear, Garthang moves away from the fight, and away to safety. Apparently his joy in arriving was not to fight, but to gain from others fighting. The orc leaves, his back seen as he heads upwards

Dhygrukh stands impassive, but slowly his teeth grit. A bead of sweat forms, and his eyes glare at some invisible phenomenon, as if he were staring at a point miles away. A visible tremble, then another. Dhygrukh is not hallucinating, nor interacting with any entity, but he seems rent by some force, some perceived terror. Though he stands stock-still, he looks the picture of an embattled being, held in the grips of a frenzy of mental pain and fear. Dhygrukh does not respond or even hear the comments of Horvak or any other -- he is withdrawn far inside, seized by his private nightmare. Slowly, eventually, the mood passes, and Dhygrukh appears more cognizant of his surroundings. Still snorting, a bead of sweat mixing with the black blood of C'zakh on his face, he growls. "I will aid your chieftain." Dhygrukh, still shaken by his strange fit, is only half attentive to his conversation with the king.

Dathluk straightens up. The mention of a new chieftain affects him strongly, it would seem.

[Durbmog(#29406)] Durbmog's eyes are half-closed. "Lord of Trolls, did Magog trust the Warg Raugha from the North? Of course not. But as Raugha of the North aided Magog, so shall Dhygrukh of the South aid Durbmog. Any ill actions he might commit shall be treated as ill actions performed by an ally. He shall hold no rank of command in the armies of Moria unless he swears." He shrugs, attention on Dhygrukh again. "As you wish it, Southron. I shall select a Chieftain and you shall advise him."

Horvak shrugs, "Indeed King Durbmog, indeed. This will be on your head...remember the words of the Fire Demon, orc. No troll shall rule Moria, but the Lord of the Trolls will slay the King of Moria if it clear he is incompetent and a fool. Your rule is injeopardy with your actions today. The Southron is not to be trusted." With that the troll, backs away and heads out of the mines.

Dhygrukh nods, eyes still showing a bit of the terror of his earlier episode despite his best efforts to restor his facade. He seems not yet fully present, though he makes eye contact with the King. "You will have a mighty army where chaos once reigned...built on the blood of these killed today." Another nod of acknowledgement. "Your slothful chieftain fought hard -- with your leave I might rest." He does not move yet, though -- it is not clear, though, whether it is fatigue, reverence for the leaders assembled, or the recent fit that is responsible for this immobility.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "When you want my head, Horvak," purrs Durbmog to the departing Olog-Hai, "come and get it. You'll find it an educational experience."

Horvak laughs, "Really. I doubt it. But when I take your head, Kingie. It will be with the blessing of the Flame, no sooner or later."

Dhygrukh, unconcerned with the debate between Horvak and Durbmog, quietly awaits dismissal. Is he still trembling now and again from his fit? One might say so -- but so hard to be sure.

[Durbmog(#29406)] "When the Flame takes from me its blessing," sneers Durbmog, plucking ostentatiously at his true-silver mail, "then no doubt you'll kill me." He sneers. "Until then I fear nothing but the Demon."

Horvak departs the mines. No reaction is made to the King's response.

Dhygrukh takes Durbmog's disinterest in him as a dismissal, and walks on unsure legs to the North exit. Surely the battering of C'zakh was a factor, but he seems disoriented more by whatever fever recently shook him. As he passes up the tunnel, he retches once, then restores his militant posture. The new Thrakburzum advisor is gone.