Moria, Durin's Way - West(#21125RntUf)

This is the major avenue within Moria. The passage is enormously high and equally wide, the main thoroughfare for both the Dwarves of old and the foul uruks that displaced them. The passage is arched, while the corridor walls are constructed in a band pattern of three files of granite squares topped by rows of long, thin, slabs of red marble. In turn, another three rows of cube stones follow, and so on. The air is somewhat, damp, and slightly musty. Generations of uruks have created enormous piles of refuse that rest liberally along the walls, generating all manner of carrion. A plethora of paths and passages break off from this main highway, which continues to the East.

Contents:

Balrog

Durbmog

Sammurammat(#28478enp)

Horvak

Guttack

Zurku

Orlisk

Urgut

Chuok

Khamuz

 

 [Balrog(#22308)] A low rumbling begins to sound from the deeps. Pebbles clatter frantically along Durin's way. The air thrums with energy and a pounding starts from the north.

 

Guttack begins pacing through the hall.

 

Busy inspecting the carnage that is still left over from the Thrugu's attacks, Huzghash is hunched over one of the corpses that still remains. "Burns. From that acid they spit, I think." Huzghash says absently, his eyes lifting as the ground beneath him begins to shake. "Eh..." Huzghash's voice trails off his eyes flicking frantically around the room, watching as pebbles, uruks, and the air itself seems to pulsate to some unknown rhythm.

 

[Durbmog(#29406)]  

Durbmog steps out into the debris-littered, rubble-strewn passage, his pale gaze darting frantically this way and that. As the rumbling echoes throughout the passage, Durbmog fumbles for his war hammer, drawing it out of his belt. He steadies himself against a defaced pillar.

"Is it Thrugu?" he calls. "What comes?"

 

 [Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack begins whimpering softly as he looks at the carnage and tries to find some place to hide from whatever it is that is coming.

 

Huzghash stands, his legs reverberating with the trembles of the deep. Steadying himself against the wall, the Talashakh draws and knocks an arrow. "Perhaps, Warlord." Huzghash bellows in return, "Though, this feels different somehow." Huzghash's voice trembles slightly, his breathing becoming ever more hurried as adrenaline begins to rush into his bloodstream.

 

[Balrog(#22308)] The clatter stops abruptly. A few stones settle in the dust and all falls silent. Moisture is suddenly sucked out from the air, simply disappearing. The too dry air dominates for but a single moment...

 

The entrance to the Ghashobazog commons, already exploited by the Thrugulings disintergrates.

An impossible roar fills the air, spreading to fill the entirety of the caves.

Where there was once a black void now looms the Fire Demon, hellish waves of heat radiating out from his ethereal body.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

Durbmog's hammer-grip slackens, his claws clicking softly against the wooden haft, the sounds dying in the sudden, dry stillness. The Warlord flattens back against the column, left hand rising to shield his face.

The waves of heat send the Warlord plunging to his knees; his hammer slips from nerveless fingers, his eyes shielded by his arm. He clings to the stone column, speechless.

 

 [Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack tries to scream, but the intense heat immediately dries out his threat and nothing but a slight crackle escapes his lips. He immmediately throws his hands in front of his eyes as he tries to scramble backwards.

       He soon finds himself backed up against a wall and he stops there, crouched in terror, unwilling to move any more.

 

Standing no longer, Huzghash is sprawled across the floor by the suddenness of the Balrog's roar. Quickly, the chain links of armour begin to heat causing small tinges of pain to spark around Huzghash's body. Yet, Huzghash is unaffected by the pain of his own burning flesh, rather his eyes are fixated on the fire-demon.

Wide, wide are spread the eyes of Huzghash as he clamours backwards, unable to turn away from the searing heat and impermeable air. Slowly though the humbled Talashakh raises his arm to block the pain to his eyes. Huzghash gulps for air, his throat instantly parched by the waves of heat that continue to use his armour as a closed kettle.

 

 [Zurku(#31889)] The smaller of two snaga makes her way into the passage, the stench of the animal pens following her dung-covered form. Her fists ball up as she opens her mouth to say something, her face contorted angrily, but the sudden wave of heat causes her to flinch and cry out, falling to the floor like a sack of dirty rags.

 

 [Urgut(#19150)] 

      Urgut comes running down Durin's Way from the direction of the Animal Pens waving his mace in the air and yelling, "What's the comotion? Thurgu back? Protect the piggies!", As he enters and sees THE FLAME his feet suddenly stop and he falls flat on his face trembling.

 

[Balrog(#22308)] Eyes of shadow, or perhaps merely some trick of light, can be discerned amidst the swirling column of flame. Beneath them, a huge maw opens wide, and a tongue of fire lashes out, blasting forth another wave of heat. The forge of Moria is but a flicker of light compared to the fire within the Balrog's maw.

Looking to all, yet to none, Durin's Bane speaks and does not:

With an exertion of will the traces of the Thrugulings are disappeared. Shadowy tendrils slither forth from the Demon, one to wrap itself about each uruk, probing all the while. The tendrils mix the emotions of shame and dread together.

Squeezing tighter with each tendril, the Balrog promises greater plagues yet.

 

 [Urgut(#19150)] 

      As the toung of flame draws near Urgut rolls on the ground in pain and screaches, "Don't kill me! I serve the flame the best I can! I take care of the pigs and help feed Moria! Don't kill me!"

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

Durbmog arches back, his hands convulsing; his shield falls from slackened hands. His eyes squeeze shut; his mouth opens wordlessly, lips moving as though in a litany of confessions and of pleas. The Uruk-Hai's churning mouth stills, saliva dripping from its corners; his face goes slack, eyes darting away from the blazing immensity of Durin's Bane.

 

Huzghash grits his teeth, hand still held up to block the heat from his eyes. Rivers of sweat begin to run down the body of the Talashakh, coating his singed skin in a slime. Soon a shadowy tendril reaches Huzghash its grip causing his eyes to slam shut, his arm slacken, and his body fall flat against the ground. The Talashakh's face contorts as if in unmentionable pain but all the while his mouth seems to flicker in action, though they do not form words.

 

 [Balrog(#22308)] A claw, perhaps, lashes out. Nails of shadow slice the air and lock themselves upon a helpless snaga. The Demon grips tight as smoke begins to exit the snaga's ears and mouth. The snaga issues a death scream as his head catches fire and the Demon lets go of the charred husk.

 

The claw lashes out once more, buffeting the rest of the gathered uruk. The tendrils of shadow bear the notion that the weak within Moria are to be destroyed. Shame continues to be inspired - shame at the peaceful complacency that weakens the horde.

 

The Balrog summons a ball of Flame and casts it down Durin's Highway. For a brief time the ancient splendors of the dwarves are illuminated in their entirety by this infernal light. Yet, this is secondary; the ball of flame takes on the distinct appearance of the Thrugu.

 

The Flame will see a complete culling of the weak and a war to determine the strongest.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack continues to whimper and snivel unintelligibly. Every so often the words, Mighty Balrog, humble servant, and not worthy are able to picked out among the gibberish. His body is constantly writhing from the searing pain of the intense heat while he tries to maintain covering his eyes with his hands.

 

       As one of the smoky tendrils seeps its way into Guttacks open mouth his body begins to contort into a twisted mass of agony. His mouth in wide open in a silent scream of most horrid pain and outright terror.

 

[Zurku(#31889)] As a tendril of shadow twines about the smaller snaga, her eyes widen and she begins to curl up into a ball on the floor to shield herself from the wrath of the Flame. The anger that had painted her face has twisted into fear; her mouth creaks open, but no words can be heard.

 

As Thrugu appears amidst the flame above Zurku, her eyes widen even more, almost to the point of popping out of her skull, and a shrill whine emanates from her huddled form.

 

Chuok moves onto durin's way and instantly spots the Balrog and the flaming Thrugu image. She senses the anger of the Balrog and it mirrors her thoughts of late on the horde. She moves closer to where the main group seems to be and then drops to one knee, head bowed. The stench of burning flesh speaks of the fate of hte snaga and she struggles to keep her terror abated in the presence of the one their existence is meant to serve.

 

[Urgut(#19150)] 

      Urgut screams in pain as the claws of Durin's Bane grasp his head. His head suddenly explodes in flame and his charred body is thrown against a wall.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

The Warlord's eyes flash towards the blazing bolt of flame, the searing image of the blazing Thrugu burnt into his mind. His teeth begin to gnash, spittle dripping from the corners of his dark mouth and sizzling as they touch the hot stone floor; he clutches at the sides of his head with clawed hands. The corners of his garments begin to smoulder; his flame-illumined face takes on an expression of anguish. His eyes begin to brighten, the undeniable message of the Fire-Demon stirring within him hunger. Unfocused, commingled with fear, but the Uruk-Hai's rigid gaze grows more and more intense.

 

His posture shifts as he collapses into a kneel, gauntlets grasping at the cracked stone floor, eyes locked upon the burning Thrugu-image.

 

 [Balrog(#22308)] Wordlesly, the massive form of the Fire Demon issues a demand, making its will felt through the air: The Troll-King Horvak is to come to the Flame's lair.

 

The tendrils of shadow grow and multiply, faster and faster, finally enveloping the orcs. Though Durin's Bane burns hellishly in Durin's Hall, for the orcs there is total darkness as the shadows conceal all.

 

Almost with a whimper, the shadows as lifted but the Flame is gone, sucking emotion out of the room with his passing.

 

The silence roars.

 

Tension reigns in the muscles of Huzghash, his skin pulled tight under their control. With the burst of Flame a new round of pain overcomes Huzghash, his armour burning him further. Yet, the Talashakh's eyes pop open breifly to witness the newly dropped corpse and the Flame's Thrugu beast. Slowly, Huzghash forces himself up to a knee, his eyes locked upon the Thrugu image.

 

Even as the heat of the Flame continues to berate Huzghash's body, the Talashakh steels his face the muscles causing his expression to change to one of pure malice. The Guard's crimson eyes smolder within their sockets, an inner-fire raging the mirrors the intentions of the Balrog.

 

 [Balrog(#22308)] With the Balrog's passing, a new fury awakes. The deeps rumble once more and the walls begin to shake.

 

DOOM, DOOM pound the ancient war drums.

 

DOOM-BOOM

 

DOOM-BOOM.

 

The drums throb and the Horde is roused to War.

 

[Chuok(#29498)] Hatred and rage begin to roil deep within the She Hai and she instantly knows what is at stake. Her path is galvanized. It is as she has sensed before this as if a nightmare has turned real. AS the burning darkness fades the she feels the heat and charred flesh as if a weight on her own soul. She is fortunate perhaps to come across this and be sparred the brunt of the wrath of the flame as others have perished. In the silent void of the demons passing rage becomes a cancer within the she and it's desire to consume what it hates burns through her as in an inner heat of crystalline clarity. She holds her position for many moments and then rise to her feet as the drums war begin to sound.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack gathers his pain ridden body together and pulls himself up from the floor. His head still pounds with intense pain from the passing of the Balrog. He tries to gather himself together and shake away the pain in his head so as not to look so weak in front of his superiors.

 

[Durbmog(#29406)] 

Durbmog lets out a slow gasp, his arms convulsing and relaxing. He stumbles, swaying like a puppet whose strings have been cut, falling relaxed against the pillar. He inspires slowly, tasting the acrid air, relishing it; exhales with a wheeze. Another inhalation; he lowers his gauntlet from his face, breath rasping.

 

Durbmog's eyes burn with a strange intensity; with pale clarity they sweep about the clean-charred chamber. Carefully, Durbmog bends down, picks up his hammer, and slides it into his belt. He slings his shield on his back, straightening in a swish of mail.

 

[Balrog(#22308)] Whereas the Flame left, taking away emotion with it, the War Drums breed a new emotion. Hatred. A vile hatred takes hold of the Deeps. Even the walls seem to hate and are worthy of hatred in turn.

 

Zurku's hands reach upward and begin to claw at the sides of her head, the pounding of the drums blocking out all thoughts but those of the will of the Flame. Huddled no longer, she pushes herself into a crouch, then slowly rises into a standing position, her body quivering with a host of emotions. Devotion for the Flame. Desire craving to be sated. Hatred--livid and real, as sharp as a razor's edge.

 

Rising slowly with the pounding of the ancient War Drums, Huzghash withdraws his spear from across his back; replacing his bow. The Guard's face seems still lit by the hatred of the Flame; his crimson eyes twirling, spinning, ragin with a fury unmatched. A gulp of air taken in. "Warlord." huzghash rasps, his voice still scratchy. The Master Guard begins to march for the Warlord, his pounding steps echoing in the silence of the hall.

 

Blisters slowly form on Huzghash's body, the skin bubbling up; some popping and allow their acrid juices to coat the body of the Talashakh. With a final stomp Huzghash stops near the recovering Warlord, the Guard's hate-filled eyes locked upon the Warlord. "War." Huzghash states simply, his eyes flicking away as a smirk of malice cracks his face.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack's eyes brighten at the sound of the War Drums beating their steady rhythm in his ears. He now realizes the Balrog's intentions and is ready to serve out the Balrog's will immediately and without reservation. He would rather face ten thousand Thrugu's than ever have to suffer the wrath of the Balrog.

 

Zurku, the tiniest of snagas, lets out a cry that in the silence of the passage seems to echo for just a moment. Before the echo dies, she cries out once more, then a third time, and finally falls silent.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

... Hatred. War. Durbmog's thin lips curve back, rows of teeth glittering. The War-Drums stir him, impassioning the Uruk-Hai, imparting to him a vicious, savage glee. His breathing is soft, his footfalls quiet, timed to the drumbeats.

 

He turns his head, gazing at Huzghash. "War," Durbmog agrees, as the drums fall silent. "Let not the weak return at all."

 

 [Chuok(#29498)] The she wipes her face and is surprised that her skin has been covered in the acrid ash from the presence of the demon. She moves her hand to her lips and thin licks the residue from her fingers. It is the taste of death and hate. To her it seems as if it were food for her very soul. She glances about and her eyes lock momentarily on the presence of the Warlord and then continues to scan to see what others were present here this day. She watches as

 

Huzghash approaches the warlord, Her gaze takes in his blistering skin even as she looks. She moves forward to that already battered body of the warlord from the encounter with the worms and asks evenly. "It is as I was to tell you though the demon spake it first" Her words trail off and then she adds. "You need assistance Warlord?"

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)]  "I need no assistance."

 

Durbmog's reply is snapped, vehemently forceful. He straightens, placing a char-crusted gauntlet on one hip, and rasps, "I need no assistance. I am strong; I am a warrior of Moria." The Warlord fixes Chuok with a harsh glare. "Are you prepared for war, She-Orc?"

 

 [Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack stumbles across the hall wearily. His eyes burning with an intense hatred. His eyes do a quick scan of the room taking note of those who were there. He joins the rest of the Uruks in the center of the room.

 

"Indeed." Huzghash echoes even as Chuok approaches and speaks. "Let the weak decorate the Halls of Moria in their blood and pain. Let the strong return to serve." Huzghash smirks, tilting his own head back to let out a roar of his own. "War." huzghash murmurs again, his eyes narrowing to stare around the room.

 

Chuok looks evenly at the warlord, his reply sparking no reaction within her. "For war?" She mirrors the words before continuing. "For that and much more." Her face is set like flint and her eyes are lock on that of Durbmog

 

 [Zurku(#31889)] Searching eyes survey the passage, flickering from one orc to the next and finding most of those who are not still huddled on the floor amassed in one central spot. Small though she is, she begins to approach the group of orcs, the stench of half-burnt dung heralding her presence even before she arrives.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

The Warlord nods curtly. In tones of warning: "See that you do not overestimate your own strength, She-Orc. No matter where you stand on the hierarchy of strength, there are those who stand higher."

 

The Warlord smiles thinly. "The Demon's will shall be done. Weakness shall not be tolerated. The Feasting Hall will no longer serve ale, and will no longer serve tankards. It shall serve small cups of spiced grog. The fire shall burn out laziness from among the weak."

 

The Uruk-Hai wraps a hand about the head of his hammer. Throwing back his head, he bellows, "All orcs not enlisted in Guards, Scouts, Hammerers, or Gatherers shall be punished severely! The weak will not survive! All orcs must be prepared and armed for war!"

 

Zurku's eyes widen at the pronouncement, then glance about uncertainly, only locking upon the Warlord when there is nothing else left to do. "I.. I wish to enlist!" she says, the words coming out as little more than a squeak.

 

[Khamuz(#19026)] Coming down the passageway from the East, Khamuz the Master Scout trots. He approaches the crowd warily, sensing something great is afoot. He stops to salute his superiors, offering each a deep bow. Standing up, sniffing the air, he comments dryly, "It smells like burned flesh here...", to no-one in particular, "like the fires of the deep. Sulfuric." He stands at attention, waiting to discover the reason for the assembly in the wide passageway.

 

Chuok glowers at the warlord and responds curtly. "And you do not overestimate those that are loyal to you. perhaps you kill me know that bear the consequences of my actions m'lord"

 

"And Tribes!" Huzghash bellows, "Enlist in a Tribe as well lest you find yourself missing a neck." Huzghash smirks, his eyes staring out into the crowds. As Zurku calls out Huzghash steps forward, "Come here, snaga, and become a Morghash and Guard Snaga." Huzghash beckons the snaga over with a wave of his hand, his eyes piercing.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack nods at Zurku's comment, then musters the courage to look squarely at the at the Warlord, "And I wish to enlist as well Warlord!"

 

 [Orlisk(#24926)] Entering after the Master Scout and standing to the side, Orlisk speaks no words. He just surveys the room over with a heavy and dark expression and glances at all who are in the room. Pulling his flask of bloodwine from under his black uniform and bringing it to his lips he takes a drink as he listens intently to all words spoken.

 

Zurku trembles at being called forth by the Master Guard, hardly having expected to be heard at all. Pushing past the she-orc almost twice as tall as her, she approaches Huzghash and places herself before him, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

 

[Durbmog(#29406)] 

Durbmog's laughter is a harsh, reverberating sound, like metal clattering on stone. "That's what I like to hear!" roars the Warlord, as sundry snaga volunteer enlistment. "Guards, report to Master Guard Huzghash. He shall arm you and clothe you in armor. Be prepared for war. Drunkards shall be given fifty lashes, those who delay the army shall be given sixty, and those who defy orders shall be killed!"

 

He brandishes a gauntlet. "Snagas, the ranks of Thrakburzum embrace those who would prove themselves worthy. Come, take the brand of Thrakburzum, and serve the Bringers of Shadow."

 

"Good." Huzghash says, glaring at the snaga. "A Morghash and Guard you shall be. You serve the Flame above all, Uruk. Do not fail me lest you wish it's wrath." Huzghash drops his voice to a raspy whisper as he lowers himself to the eye level of Zurku. "Never fail me." Huzghash repeats, more sternly and harsher.

 

 [Rajoo(#19968)] From the eastern end of the great path called Durin's Way comes a ratherly large character. His eyes seem puzzled as he scans the room with them and his large nose. Rajoo walks in towards the area most orcs are gathered and scanns them one by one, curling his upper leap. "Rajoo heard noise and drums" he says generally to all who'd hear him. "Rajoo is confused."

 

Chuok nods curtly to the warlord and then turns to move on. The needs of the demon foremost in her mind as well as an agenda all her own that has been forged to clarity by the visitation of the demon itself.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack slowly meanders through the crowd and over to where Huzghash and Zurku are. He takes a knee before the might Huzghash and makes his intent known, "I wish to join you as well mighty Huzghash. I hope you might use my services to further yourself and the Horde."

 

[Zurku(#31889)] At mention of the Flame, the memory of its recent appearance causes Zurku to tremble even more visibly. However, the Master Guard's rasped order seems to soothe her

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

"We prepare for War," Durbmog thunders. "Let the hammerers descend to the forges and bring forth weapons of war, weapons and armor for our soldiers and our recruits."

 

He glances at Huzghash, a smile twisting its way across his mouth; but his eyes stab like knives, filled with murderous intent. "Together," he declares, "Huzghash, I, and the officers of Moria shall seek prove our vitality and power. The weak shall be weeded out and shattered. We shall bring glory to Moria and honor to the Flame." His voice belies the hatred in his eyes, the longing way his fingers caress the handle of his hammer.

 

[Zurku(#31889)] At mention of the Flame, the memory of its recent appearance causes Zurku to tremble even more visibly. However, the Master Guard's rasped order seems to soothe her, and she is almost able to meet his gaze with her own. "I will not fail you," she responds softly, her voice steady, then blinks up at the Warlord and tilts her head, listening. "Glory to Moria," she repeats when he has finished, though the words seem spoken for her ears alone. "Honor to the Flame."

 

"Good. The Flame's message shall be carried by all Morghash as we prepare for the War to come." Huzghash cackles as Guttack also request to join with him. "Then you shall be a Morghash as well, uruk. And as a Guard?" Huzghash's last remark is a definate question, his eyes searching the snaga. Echoing the call of Durbmog, Huzghash adds, "Let the weak that are here burned rest atop pikes as warning to all who would succumb to sloth and dishonor. Let the Flame's message rest in their rotting corpses as well as the actions of the Officers of Moria!"

 

 [Rajoo(#19968)] As he gets closer to the Warlord and Master Guard, also not seeming to notice the presence of the other uruks there, and he says puzzled, again, not for a particular character "War Rajoo heard? War against who?" his voice is clearly puzzled. "Who Moria go and smash? Rajoo not likes being not updated."

 

 [Khamuz(#19026)] Glancing over to Orilisk at the Warlord's words, Khamuz grins solemnly, offering a nod of assention to his newly-appointed Senior Officer. "The Scouts shall also quash the weak beneath our boot-soles! Death to the weak!" Then stepping nearer to the Warlord, Khamuz more quietly offers, "When you have time, m'lord, Orlisk the Senior Scout has brought news of his travels to my attention... that is, if you are not already aware..."

 

Zurku's gaze slides toward the charred corpse of her fellow snaga. "Piggies," she says very softly, her lower lip almost beginning to tremble, but the continued mention of the war draws her attention back to matters at hand.

 

[Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack looks at Huzghash questioningly, "Of course my lord, unless there is somewhere else you may perhaps need my services." Then he resumes his posture of humblance by bowing his head while remaining on one knee.

 

[Durbmog(#29406)] 

"Khamuz, my friend," Durbmog booms. "And Orlisk. Yes, most excellent. The Scouts of Moria are strong and fierce. You shall serve with great force and power when we march. You two, at least, are not weak. Khamuz, prepare the scouts to march immediately. This is your single goal. All else is secondary. Understand?"

 

 [Pidash(#2150)]

 Entering from the Fiesting Hall, Pidash gazes around, and grins when he sees the Master Guard Huzghash. Passivly he advances towards the other Uruks gathered, and stopping behind them he lowers his head, waits for a pause in the conversation. "I could do much better in the guard than serving meat in the fiesting hall, Master Guard, if you'd give me the chance" he slips in, with his head still bowed, waiting with every muscle tense for the reaction.

 

"You will serve as a Guard as Well, uruk." Huzghash orders, his voice become stern. "You too, will not disappoint me." The Guard's eyes are piercing. "Now," Huzghash says, "I will have much need of armour in the Guard's hall." The Guard's words bellow to any of the Hammerers present. "Now is no time for petty quibbles of money. The Flame has ordered us to war at the greatest haste!"

 

[Khamuz(#19026)] "Yes, Master!", Khamuz thunders in reply, "The Scouts shall be at the ready!" He stamps his foot down for extra emphasis while hitting his chest with his balled fist.5r

 

 [Gazburg(#29717)] From the darkest recesses of one of the many tunnels and pathways off-shooting the causeway of Moria there emerges Gazburg, his body wrapped in a heavy cowl of fading red, bands of black stretching diagonally across the arms. Though he leaves the darkness he does not fully immerse himself into the mobilization upon Durin's Way, content it seems, to remain an observer.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

Durbmog stalks across the chamber, moving towards the northwestern archway. "The Thrakburzum," he announces in his deep bass, "throw open their gates to all who would join the Tribe. Only the strong survive in the Thrakburzum; come, you who would prove yourselves worthy. The branding iron awaits."

 

 [Orlisk(#24926)] Noding silently to the words of Durbmog, Orlisk then turns to the snagas in the room and adds alittle something. "If you wish to gain respect of the Fiery deamon, You should choose to join the Scouts.. Many brave uruks grow names for themselves in battles with the lightlovers." Letting a throaty chuckle emit from his lips Olrisk falls silent again and takes his place again in silence.

 

 [Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack risks looking up and into the eyes of his superior, "Of course my lord, I will never disappoint you, I will prove that I am not one of the weak!", he stammers.

 

       Guttack then grins evilly at Zurku, and then mumbles, "Of course, who knows about that small one over there."

 

Huzghash begins to grin, his yellowed fangs showing forth. "You as well shall be made one of my Guards, uruk." huzghash says pointedly to Pidash, "But what of your tribe?" Huzghash shrugs, looking at the other newly inducted Morghash, with other lining up. "Those I induct are instructed not to leave as you will be fully tested here shortly."

 

Rajoo looks around at the present orcs with a puzzled expression. From whatever his ears catch he doesn't understand a thing, as can be seen on his expression. He moves there to his other getting around virtue - his nose. He starts sniffing the air but quickly stops and caughs. Then, after Durbmog's words, he thinks for a moment and starts walking fast towards his direction - the Thrakburzum Commons calling "Can warlord spare a moment to Thrakburzum Rajoo?"

 

Zurku's head whips toward the other newly recruited guard, her cat-like eyes narrowing as she takes a step toward him, the stench of the half-burnt dung coating her wafting toward him. "I will die before I disappoint you, Master," she says to the Huzghash, though her eyes are still locked on the larger snaga.

 

 [Durbmog(#29406)] 

"Come, Rajoo," Durbmog booms. "You shall be outfitted shortly. Remember ... the Thrakburzum must be strong. You have not disappointed me yet ... do not disappoint me!" He rounds about, drawing his war hammer, and roaring, "Are none of you louts bold enough for the Thrakburzum? Very well! All of your kind shall be tested thoroughly, no matter the tribe. You shall all face the dangers of battle. Many of you ... shall die. But the strong will live! Live, and rise!"

 

 [Guttack(#31847)]

       Guttack locks eyes with the diminutive snaga and continues sneering at her. After a moment his eyes begin to look her up and down, then he says "Hmmmph, she may not be good for war, but even though she small and ugly, she probably good for some other things!" Guttack then lets out a hearty laugh.

 

 [Pidash(#2150)]

 Looking up quickly, to get a look at the Master Guard, Pidash says while lowering his head again: "Master Guard, I would be honored to become both a Morghash, and a guard.". Staring into the floor, the young uruk awaits the moment that will decide his future with silence.

 

 [Gazburg(#29717)] "Yes yes, the Thrakburzum must be strong," the elder uruk Gazburg declares, striding now from his silent position within the confines of tunnel and darkness. He seperates the cloak surrounding his body, leaving the sides to trail off to the side of his body. "Strong in mind and body."

 

"Quit your bickering, uruks. You shall have to prove yourselves presently." Huzghash pauses allowing Pidash to speak. "Good, then it is done. Now, let all Morghash follow me to our commons and the testing of our new recruits!" Huzghash bellows, striding away from the group for the Morghash commons up Durin's Way.

 

 [Pidash(#2150)]

 With a silent sigh of relief, Pidash nods to the Master Guards command, and follows him.