Moria,
The cavernous ceiling of this room lies
hidden in shadow, like viscous ink, it obscures nearly every rough surface of
this giant room. A halo of burning light sits in one end of the enormous
cavern, a pool of liquid lava, bubbling with the energy of the earth. Its heat
casts an oppressive haze throughout the temple, as if the spirit of the Balrog
has blessed this room. Behind the bubbling pool, an outcropping of rock shoots
towards the ceiling, providing a platform adorned with fetishes and icons in
honor of the Flame. Yet before it a giant stone altar sits heavily, like a
gateway to the common uruk. The stone surface is stained in places with the
dried blood of victims, and a multitude of braziers burn with a brilliant
flame, mirroring the pool of light behind it. In the nightmare darkness of the
shadows, two doorways lie, one covered by a heavy cloth, the other stinking of
herbs and sickness.
Contents:
Grubhosh
Snurga
Scalacuj
Zeimer
Obghash
Gulhak
Grumbkul
Rukghash
Purity Stone
]Gulhak(#6377)] Under the melting snow of the Silver mountain
ranges, the Misties, Spring awakes after the long slumber of winter. Dark
whisperings and murmurings permeates throughout the Horde of Moria as recent
events unfolds. Blood has been spilt yet again but for what? No orc can tell
for certain. It seems like a resurgence of tribal conflict, mayhaps.
Under a veil of
growing doubt, thick smoke seems chokes its death grip on every crevas of the
caverneous
[Rukghash(#11368)]
The lava pit bubbles incesantly down below the altar, its
heat mingling with the already thick air of the room to create a choking affect
on most uruks. The
Here a few barrels are lined and a pair of uruk sit. One
is layed out on the ground - a female uruk and a Scout: Snurga to be exact. And
sitting, though slightly slumped, against a barrel is Rukghash - his legs
bearing numerous pucture wounds and bits of bandaging sticking out from beneath
his armour. THe Master Hammerer appears concious however, his head moving from
side to side every now and then and his lungs breathing heavily - though
raspily and airated.
"Someone," Rukghash murmurs, his words gurgled
and gruff. "I could use a bit of help, yes?"
]Grumbkul(#16159)] Closed black lids snap open to reveal
glowing red eyes; a grin spreads across an ugly face as ears hear a rasped
request for help. The eyes, the face, the grin--Grumbkul's. The hammerer stands
from where he had been kneeling in the back of the temple and slowly makes his
way over to the two apparently wounded orcs. Quietly he goes, being careful not
to break the strict, threatening silence of this place. Arriving near Rukghash,
he hovers over the uruk. "Master Hammerer... yes?"
]Gulhak(#6377)] Gulhak turns not to the gurgled voice at
first but continues to finish his supplications in silence. Moments later, the
senior guard arose to his feet, heads towards what seems like Rukghash, the
Master Hammerer and Senior Scout Snurga drenched in dark ichor. The said scout
seems lifeless yet her corpse-like body twitches uneasily from time to time.
"Master Hammerer?... Who did this? " enquired Gulhak coldly..
]Rukghash(#11368[(
Rukghash lifts his head just enough to see who speaks to
him. "Yes, Grumbkul. It is me." The Master Hammerer's voice is
hoarse, his mouth dribbling blood after another brief coughing spurt. Hack!
Cough! *splutter* Speckles of black blood fly from his mouth.
Tilting his head to the side as Gulhak speaks, Rukghash
grunts. "A troll...." The Hammerer's voice trails off, "And a
fool. Seperate, both of them." Rukghash's voice is a wheeze, his breaths
heavy and laboured.
[Scalacuj(#23460)] A detatchment from the flame-inticing
shadows shrouding a lonely icon near the spacious cavern's wide walls eases
itself slowly into the main chamber itself. Far from soft swishes of a
well-worn kilt scrape noislessly against a pair of lithe, knobby legs with each
stride of their rather impressive lengths.
Light paddings
of generously-calloused feet bear the unduely thin figure of Scalacuj to the
now growing crowd surrounding a pair of seemingly wounded uruk. Slight
swishings of the knot adorning the orc's helmet lick at the Morian's tall
shoulders as he halts on the group's outskirts.
"
Interesting."
Snurga is far from as coherant as Rukghash. Her body
twitches and shivers from time to time as she draws breath but that is all.
Green eyes stare blankly in the direction which she faces. Notably her black
shirt isn't on her but is screwed up under her head and not actually being
worn--as for her wounds they appear to be mostly on her chest, soaking the rags
that cover her, but a pool of blood seeps from under her back and another
sticky mass tangles in her lank but long hair at the left side of her head.
]Obghash(#19743)] "Blood demands blood," a
rough voice croons.
Footsteps, the sound of bare feet smacking against the
stone floor, a sound that that carries into the chamber as if those feet were
shod in iron. Something wails.
"Blood to cleanse blood.."
The white and gray smoke of incense wafts in through the
south passage. Its sweet, oily fragrance drifts through the room. The pool of
liquid fire seems brighter for the drifting fume. The occasional flare, jet,
and tongue of flame is made more spectacular by the light carrying along the
thin cloud that struggles against the ticker fumes issuing from the crevices.
Something screams and weeps.
"Blood to empower souls.."
An uruk appears, an uruk too young to have earned many
whip scars, an uruk unclothed. The creature flinches away from the heat,
flinches at the sounds, and strains against the robes binding him. Strong cord
binds its hands high behind his back and up to his neck, from there the leash
disappears into darkness. The young uruk's eyeless sockets pour forth black
blood, the symbol branded on his forehead still smolders with the heat of the
iron.
"And so we offer blood to the Flame of Moria! Lord
of all that is!"
The eyeless uruk wails, long and loud falling to its
knees. The rope jerks it back to its feet as its holder steps into the chamber.
Obghash walks slowly, stately and purposefully, toward the altar dragging the
miserable wretch behind him, rope in one hand and incense in the other. The
Elder Shaman's face his shadowed beneath his hood, but never does he flinch at
the wails and the futile struggles.
]Gulhak(#6377)] "A Troll and A Fool... it seems
Master Hammerer is quite a popular target." replied Gulhak stating the
obvious. Nonethless, the Shakh leans closer to briefly inspect the Master
Hammerer's many wounds. "And her?..." asked Gulhak raising an eyebrow
towards Snurga after checking on Rukghash's injuries.
]Combat Function Library(#15)] Gulhak examines the injuries
on Rukghash.
Grumbkul stands silently for a few moments more, looking
over the two wounded beneath him. As his eyes finish with Rukghash, they move
to Snurga, and there they're required to linger a bit longer. But his intrigue
is interrupted by a voice from the shadows, and then the appearance of the
tortured form of a small uruk. The words spoken by the Shaman reach his ears
and there they seem to trigger some delight, for his eyes smolder a little more
and his grin grows a little larger.
Dripping black blood... from the bound and leashed uruk's
eye sockets, from the Master Hammerer's wounds, and from every visible spot on
Snurga's chest... flickering like the tongue of a snake--a snake tumbled into a
den of young, sweet, white mice--Grumbkul's eyes move around from once bleeding
orc to the next. "Blood... black blood for the Flame!" he gasps under
his excited breath.
]Rukghash(#11368)]
The Master Hammerer snorts, "The Same fool before I
tossed him into the forge fires." A single chuckle escapes Rukghash, but
it turns into a rapidly accelerating cough. His lungs seem to shrink from the
outside - pulling his ribs and skin in tight against his body. After a few
coughs the Master Hammerer finds hi breath short, unable to catch it fully. Hack!
Cough! Hack! His throats rasps loudly, even as the Elder Shaman enters.
From his seat, though now he leans heavily to one side,
Rukghash manages to watch obghash and his puppet. Still coughing, the Master
Hammerer tries to straighten himself - his eyes grimacing in pain. Blood still
dribbles from his wounds, a small pool of the black ichor beneath his body and
soaking his armour and clothing.
"Too bad for him." Rukghash murmurs, but for
whom he murmurs...
Obghash stops in front of the alter, pulling his victim
the remaining distance by way of the cord He bends the thing backwards over the
bloodstained stones, placing its branded head over an identical symbol on the
altar: a flame surrounded by writings and scrawls not of the common tongues. The
intended sacrifice wails and moans, gnashing teeth and quick breath swirling
the thick fumes of lava and brimstone.
Despite its incoherent protests, its body slick with
fluids, and its relentless struggles the Elder Shaman holds the thing. Incense
is cast into the deep crevice, vanishing with a jet of flame and a dark fume.
Light from this tongue of fire gleams in the blade being drawn from the priests
belt, and light flickers across the barbs as it is raised high..
Snurga convulses again, a line of blood running from
between her lips and over her scarred cheek, the scar pattern that is repeated
on both her arms which now, due to their bareness, can be seen.
[Scalacuj(#23460)] "With little provocation does
Scalacuj heed the deeds of the blessed."
Dropping to
all fours, the tall Morian darts a haughty snort to those seemingly less
penitent than he, darting directly to an opening vantage in the mob already
forming beneath the heated altar.
Chantings
and wailings begin in a low drone as the thin orc becomes one, and finally
disappears in the swelling mass of those humble to the Flame. A general rythem
overtakes the growing throng as first hands wave and shake toward the
unreachable canopy of rock, then plummet with their bodies prostrate to the
floor..
The Shaman
works his magic upon the Deeps.
]Gulhak(#6377)] The voice of one elder Shaman immediately
catches the full attention of the Shakh ob Thrakburzum. Even so, the moanful
wails of his intended victim does nothing to perturb the elder Shaman true
intend. Gulhak offers a curt nod in silence as he watches the elder Shaman
proceed towards the alter. Nonetheless, Gulhak's attention now turns to the
Senior Scout, Snurga. He approaches her fallen body, stoops low to examine her
seemingly fatal injuries.
You paged Snurga with 'but he was injured beforeso
too...'.
[Grumbkul(#16159)] The same light that flickers across
the barbs of the Elder Shaman's knife glance off of Grumbkul's face. The black
visage seems stuck in some contorsion of awful pleasure, thick red tongue
half-hanging out of his mouth, fangs protruding. For every drip of blood that
catches his eyes, a drop of drool falls the floor, where slowly a small pool
forms, and then begins to run, and mingle with the seeping blood of the two
wounded nearby.
]Combat Function Library(#15)] Gulhak examines the
injuries on Snurga.
]Obghash(#19743)] And so the blade darts toward bare
flesh, biting deep into its victim and lapping up blood like a tongue of steel
as it is wriggled back and forth. With a shout the Elder Shaman begins to carve
and pull away the flesh and tendons, cartilage and ligaments to leave bone and
organ exposed though never a wound instantly mortal. Through it all the victim
still screams, still struggles, its consciousness maintained by some herb or
art forgotten to all but the temple.
As uruks gather round to watch, Obghash begins to bath
his arms and his face in the blood, begins to wash his robes with the black
fluid. As the bleeding mass begins to draw one last struggling breathe the
Shaman sinks his fangs into it's heart..
Frow the west, with small metallic sounds following each
step, the presence of Ezmakh can be seen. The uruk who has many years behind
him, walks ih his sligtly haunched walk into the temple. The two crimson orbs
used by him for eyesight scan the room while he walks, delaing on the Elder
Shaman and on the small group around the Master of his job. Passing through
those injured without paying any heed to them, the Morghash Tetrak's direction
is mainly the Elder Shaman, as can be seen. As he gets closer, Ezmakh removes
the leather gloves he wears to reveal two soaked and sweaty hands. His arrival
is timed exactly as Obghash's fangs tear through the uruk's chest. The hammerer
get's down on his knee, and bows, murmuring some whispered quick words between
himself and the Flame.
Obghash rises to face the crowd; fangs, face, and garment
dripping with the blood, the blood of his own kind. The shaman lowers the knife
and raises a hand to halt the worship and prayers of the devout. His throaty
voice declares across the smoke filled room in a near whisper, "And so
Moria seeks Atonement, and so sins are atoned for a time. So the mines are
spared from the flame's wrath and terror until the last heretics are rooted out
and brought to the temple for judgment."
]Scalacuj(#23460)] The masses are appeased.
Howls of bloodlust and pigish squeels of sickening
delight erupt from the now impressive throng pressing before the leaking altar.
A too perfect simi-circle of open space protects the stone tablet and its'
owner from the press weather by the Shaman himself of force unknown. The
teaming crowd is on the verge of frenzy as it begs for more.. fangs gnashing at
the very blood-thickened air, pleading with their benefactor for a taste of his
prey. The rythem of the massive group is lost. Blood rules them with an iron
fist. Hands stretch as far as they might toward the altar, hoping for a speck
of the Temple-blessed refuse.
Snurga is little aware of the sacrifice that has
happened, if she hears screams they could well be in her consciousness-robbed
mind, she lays mostly still, the pool of her blood just spreading further
around her in various places, merging with the puddle that collects around
Rukghash.
Durbmog has arrived.
]Grumbkul(#16159)] Apart from the seething crowd of uruks
around the altar, reaching for the freshly sacrificed body, Grumbkul stands.
Though physically apart from the rest, he seems just as enticed by what has
just taken place. He makes no bow, does not kneel, does not shout out
prayers... but his burning eyes, his firey tongue, and his clenched fists:
these are testament enough to the throbbing of his twisted orcish soul, its
yearning for blood in the name of the Flame, in the name of Darkness, in the
name of all that is evil within the world, from its deepest roots beneath the
mountains to the highest points in the skies, from this very moment, back to
the beginning of all time, all being, when but a single discordant voice sang
out and toppled the beautiful harmonies that were, that may have been, that
perhaps are in places... but here! Here only discord lives, and throbs.
]Obghash(#19743)] A long breath sends a shower of blood
from the shaman's fangs to the stone floor. Gradient eyes, glowing coals in the
obscure light, sweep across the temple before words issue from between the
dripping fangs. Obghash declares hotly, "Yet sin remains in the mines, for
what is not repented cannot be atoned. Sinners come forward and repent, healers
call the blessings on those too weak, but let all pay respect to the
flame."
]Scalacuj(#23460)] A bit too smart for his own good,
Scalacuj disenrolls himself from the heightening craze of the overwhelming
press. Electing to pay his respects properly to the Shaman and his sacrifice
from a safer distance, the uruk offers a brief prayer from his knees before
slinking quickly for the chamber's main exit.
The lithe
Morian rises from his accustomed four-legged trot to stalk calmly from the
Temple.
]Gulhak(#6377)] Meanwhile, Gulhak reaches for his
utuility pouch producing some leaves and bark which he places the herbs into
his mouth, chewing purposefully until it turns into a pasty pulp. The scent of
which it issues is most offending even for an uruk. Spreading the pungent
salve, Gulhak merely attempts to desist the inevitable end of death of the
She-Uruk. However, the senior guard also remove the remaining ring on Snurga's
exposed chest as he tends her injuries. His eyes flashed once more as the
Master Hammerer splutter and coughs more blood. Even so, the Senior Scout's
condition seems more dire than Rukghash, giving the Snurga the priority.
Pausing to the beckon of Obghash, Gulhak bows once more to the Flame before
continuing his work on Snurga.
Ezmakh doesn't seem to cooperate or even notice the
behavior of the other orcs at his sides, for he continues his kneelings.
Murmurings continue on and on, his lips rapidly twitches and whispers gasp as
it takes a rather long while between his breath-taking pauses. Only by
Obghash's call he rises, and puts his gloves back upon his hands. Red eyes
following red robes covered with blood, the Hammerer stands motionless, rarely
does he even blink.
Snurga shivers, the result of increasing blood loss, and
green emeber eyes, dulled, still stare upwards into the heights of the Temple's
interior where the fire light parteners smoke and shadow in a contorted dance.
Twitching is all the response that she gives Gulhak as he tends to her...
Snurga goes Into Character.
]Grumbkul(#16159)] At last, with the words of the Elder
Shaman, his sharp, subtle threats, Grumbkul brings himself back to some
conscious state of awareness. His tongue returns to his mouth and his fists loosen
some, and he drops to a knee and hangs his head. A moment later he raises it
again and eyes still burning, he licks his lips and mutters something to
himself.
]Combat Function Library(#15)] Gulhak tends to the
injuries on Snurga.
Snurga
[Durbmog(#29406)]
A tall figure brushes by Scalacuj in the doorway
silently, pausing for but a moment before advancing into the Temple. Softly its
ironshod steps click on the stone floor as it strides forward.
Durbmog, King of Moria, has come to the Temple. His
mithril mail gleams, its bright silver reflecting one thing above all others:
the terrible, fitful red glow of the pool of magma. His pale eyes are at once
intense and bright and unreadable, veiled.
]Rukghash(#11368)]
Rukghash hears the call of the Elder Shaman for all those
sinners to come forward. The Master Hammerer grunts, his body weakened from
loss of blood and exhaustion. His right hand reaches out before him, clomp!
Then the left, clomp! His hands beging to pull him across the ground towards
the Shaman.
His wounds facing towards the ground, now pour a bit more
blood on to it. A long trail of black ichor, like slime left from a snail,
lingers behind the path of the dragging Rukghash. The Master Hammerer's arms
bulge and quiver with each dragging motion - the tension of his arms causing
the small wounds present there to rip open slightly more, more blood flowing to
the ground.
"I will not be one of the weak..." Rukghash
manages to mumble, his face grimacing to give him the strength to pull himself
to the Shaman's feet. Slowly, tenderly Rukghash comes, stopping periodically to
cough black blood onto the ground.
Obghash murmurs benevolently, "The one that brings
forward the last heretics will receive rewards and blessings beyond compare.
Those that serve the flame faithfully through life will receive yet
more.." Leaving the carcass atop the altar, the priest makes his way
through the parting crowd but stops before reaching the exit.
His voice rises above the noise of the fervent believes
and cautious hypocrites, "Welcome is the King of Moria, appointed by the
flame to serve the flame." His arms part and fall to his sides, his gaze
falls upon Rukghash, "The Master of your Hammerers is strong."
The shaman steps forward and lowers himself beside the
form of the Hammerer, "You will is strong, yet you submit easily. A rare
talent."
]Grumbkul(#16159)] The gleam from the King's armor seems
to startle Grumbkul, and for a moment it steals his attention away from the
Shaman. Having knelt to the Flame, now he stands for his King and without a
thought, he cries out: "Gothshaka! Hail the King! Hail the might of Moria,
the might of the Flame!" The profusion of blood all about, the delightful
sacrifice, and the words of the Shaman... they have been like kindling for a
spark in this Hammerer's chest, and now he has spoken out, his tongue lashing
with his words like a flame, and his eyes shining with an excitement, a blood
lust to match. Then as the Master Hammerer passes by his feet, Grumbkul's eyes
are pulled there, and he watches with grin as he pulls himself to the altar.
Pough has arrived.
]Rukghash(#11368)]
Rukghash's body shakes terribly, every ounce of his
energy concentrate in remaining upheld by his two arms. "I submit..."
Rukghash mumbles, his lips dripping blood. "To the greatness of Moria, and
it's Master, and those whom serve it." Rukghash's voice shakes with his
body, his muscles convulsing in rapid succession all over his body.
The Master Hammerer's head tilts slightly to the side,
his eyes catching the Gothshaka. "Gothshaka..." The beaten Hammerer
mumbles, his teeth coated in his own blood. Still do his arms quiver and quake,
as if the stone itself rattled so violently as to cause Rukghash's limbs to act
like jelly.
Snurga's blood coats her, the floor around her and
Gulhak's hands and the tricle of blood that had been rolling down her chin
splashes on the floor too now, lost in the pool already there.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The King spreads his arms wide, mithril gleaming to the
elbow, and from there black iron gauntlets terminate in glittering claws. These
spread wide in a gesture of benediction. "My children. Warriors of the
Flame. Servants of the Demon of Moria." Still the King advances, his bright,
pale eyes flickering to Obghash. "I am pleased. The Flame is pleased. But
... Elder Shaman Obghash. You speak of heretics."
Durbmog pauses by Obghash and Rukghash. "You speak
truth -- the truth of the Demon. There are heretics among the Horde: vile
blasphemers. Some worship the Eye, others Spider-spirits, and others
Bat-demons. Our iron has been purified in the crucible of war; now it must be
shaped."
Not only the Elder Shaman was to move from the location
by the Lava pool, for also the Heretic's blood flows to all directions, and
reaches also the spot Ezmakh stands upon. The hammerer, which in the meanwhile
kept watching and listening the the shaman, then ducks down and dips his finger
in the black liquid upon the floor. Straightening his back again, as much as
his body enables him, he now stares at the finger, or more precisely the blood
upon it. Few moments later he rubs it upon the two nails pierced on his cheek,
and turns. Those familiar with the Tetrak would see an expression upon his face
rarely seen. Some sort of bewilderment, and yet determination. Now also aware
of the Gothshaka, Ezmakh gives him from afar a deep nod, but all the time
remains silent.
Obghash's hand passes over the hammerer's wounds. He
mumbles and murmurs, Gothshaka forgotten for all the attention he pays, as he
reaches into the folds of his robes. Pouches are produced and from these come
herbs, cloth, needles, tread and other items. He moves to Rukghash's leg and
begins his work, balling up several of the herbs and placing them carefully in
the punctured skin and muscle. With quick stitches he sews up the deepest of
these and wraps the last with bandages before he rises again..
The Elder Shaman simply looks at the king, his shadowed
face unreadable. Still blood drips from his garments and hands, blood of the
sacrifice now mingled with blood from the Master Hammerer..
Pough moves just inside the entrance of the great temple,
stopping he allows his crimson eyes to scan about this place, the twin orbs
falling upon many an orc, allowing their expression to speak to him of what
goes on. Finding little, he cocks his head, listening then to the words of the
King and others. Exhaling, the Maluuk goes further in, direction aimed at the
altar...
]Combat Function Library(#15)] Obghash tends to the
injuries on Rukghash.
]Gulhak(#6377)] As Gulhak attempts to close the wounds on
Snurga, Gulhak whispers softly into the ear of Snurga, "She-Uruk's life
now is in the hands of the Flame. Live or Die depends on the Flame. However, She-Uruk
should know her life belongs not herself.." Gulhak paused at that without
further explaination. Nonetheless, his eyes trailed to the footfalls of the
arriving Gothashaka, bowing deeply as the kingly form of Durbmog enters.
]Durbmog(#29406)]
"So we shall shape the servants of the Demon under
the hammer of the Coliseum," announces the King. "Deeds of valor will
be performed. There shall be battle and combat." His claws click together.
"And from among those who prove their might ... I, Durbmog, King of Moria
shall choose a Latadurub. Obghash the Elder Shaman shall aid in the
preparations for the tourney ..." The King's eyes have become half-lidded
now, his mouth curving into a secret smile, "... and the King shall
present his secret warrior. Obghash, Elder Shaman, you must take charge of
preparing the Coliseum for use. You may commandeer as many snagas as are
required to refurbish it and resand its duelling area and prepare it for
service. Report to me daily."
Grumbkul his praise for King and Moria having been
shouted, Grumbkul moves back to an out-of-the-way spot, still remaining near
where Gulhak tends to Snurga. His demeanor is dimmed now, even worn, as if all
the burning pleasure he derived from the sacrifice had culminated with the entrance
of the Gothshaka and burned itself out. Now the Hammerer seems more his normal
self: dull and hulking. But he stays focused, eyes locked in position, intent
on hearing what his King will say, and hopeful to serve to his King's pleasure.
Obghash nods, "The Gothshaka is wise, much to the
horde's acclaim. The Temple will see that your warriors are shaped and molded
true." The shaman continues toward the exit, toward his sanctum, blood
falling from him in drops and rivulets with each step.
[Pough(#10607)]
Raising his head from its bent position, Pough turns from the altar
after giving up his prayers. Focussing his attention now upon the elnder shaman
and king, the takes only a step closer and looks on from his short distance.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Excellent." booms the King. "We are most
pleased that the Elder Shaman will foresee the preparations. Those who wish to
suggest to Our Majesty the Servant of the Flame any competitions or contests
that will aid the separation of worthy from weak ... may speak."
[Grumbkul(#16159)] Voices in the temple raise in approval
for the Gothshaka's announcement. One is Grumbkul's: "A tournament! A
tournament to prove the Mightiest of Moria's warriors!" His hand moves to
the haft of his weapon as he says this and pulls it from his belt, raising it
over his head and brandishing it--the black iron mattock reflects the orange
firelight with a dull glow. "I will compete! I will fight to serve!"
Then some of the voices die with the king's invitation to
speak, and Grumbkul's raises in response.
"My King! Make the combat for this tournament unlike
any other! Complete it with tests... What battlefield knows only two opponents
with nothing else to overcome?" He points to the burning pool of lava.
"Let there be flames that leap up from nowhere around the
fighters..." He points to Rukghash, some of his wounds from a troll,
"Let them be subject to the wild rampages of an olog!" He pauses, and
all hangs in silence, but for a few murmurs from others.
"The truest warrior will overcome both his opponent
and these things."
]Gulhak(#6377)] Gulhak steps forward with a bow and
offers his suggestion to the Gothshaka as it was requested. "A test of
faith...A trial by fire. For none may pass save the stout and devote of heart
and mind. Would your Majesty consider these things ?" stated Gulhak as he
steps back to his spot with another nod.
Ezmakh now starts moving again, this time towards the
Gothshaka, with his slow metalic-clings accompanied walk. He seems to think of
something as he draws nearer to the Hai, scratching the slight of his revealed
nape. "Perhaps," his wry voice says once he is close enough,
"the race course from the day the Thrugus attacked can be rebuilt, and
improved, yes yes, Gothshaka. Some challanges maybe added, yes, like long holes
in the ground containing sharp posinious spikes, like we had long ago in snaga
training, before Rajoo ruled them out. Or Troll Lord can submit some Ologs to
chase from behind, yes, that would rule out the weak." A slight pause
comes bofore he adds, "but only as a first step to keep the worthy ones in
the way, it is. Then other tests can be given, like Thrakburzum Shakh has
offered."
]Durbmog(#29406)]
"A match among obstacles," murmurs the King
with a faint smirk. "It has merit." He pauses thoughtfully. "And
a race-course ... yes, we shall consider a race course. For it is the swift who
often claim the prize on the battlefield."
The King's mail glitters as he turns, eyes flickering
from Ezmakh to Gulhak before finally settling on Grumbkul. "There will be
many prizes to be won ... and many orcs to win them. This tournament shall
outstrip even that great tournament at which Garjug slew Ghlurshrekh; it shall
outstrip the tournament at which Megiddo slew Sothrah; it shall be training and
test all at once. Speak. For I would hear more suggestions."
Snurga groans, the sound a choking one and more blood
slides forth from between her teeth..
Pough turns his ear, for the first time he notices the
female where she is, his attention brought to her with her pain-induced groans.
Slowly he moves toward the scout, bowing his broad head as he passes by the
King...
[Grumbkul(#16159)] An evil chuckle escapes from
Grumbkul's lips, and then a horrible laugh like clattering metal. "The
wargs!" More laughter as the uruk's eyes imagine some violent scene.
"Let's send for the wargs, invite them to feast on the stragglers in the
races, and the slow-witted in the arena!" His words end and gurgling
laughter takes over.
"Also the representetives of the temple, I believe
Gothshaka, shall determine the faithfulnees of the contestants, yes."
Ezmakh continues with a slow and sharp tone, "whether by questioning,
challanging, or pointing tasks, however they see it should be done for them to
determine. No matter how strong and skilled, a blasphemer cannot be
awarded." The Hammerer's eyes are focused on the Gothshaka, and await his
reply.
[Gulhak(#6377)] "No doubt our greatest challange has
been the elements, the greatest being yellow face. Then one who can strike the
most target or even score the most direct hit would be no mere challenge."
added Gulhak after pondering in silence. His suggestion is further illustrated
with gestures to his head and arm. A hint at wit and skill.
[Pough(#10607)]
Listening to all that goes on behind him, Pough's attention is snared by
the suggestions to the arena. Twisting about, he looks over his shoulder at the
King, speaking loud enough so that he might hear, "And what of our own
beasts?" He rumbles, forgetting the She for a moment and turning himself
to face the others, "Is there no chance for a remnant of the Thrugu? A
hatchling nest deep within, perhaps?" As he offers this suggestion, his
eyes wander little from his ruler.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Those whom I reward," replies the King coldly,
fixing Ezmakh with a harsh stare. "cannot possibly be blasphemers. I am
Gothshaka. I command." He raises a claw, points it at the ground before
his feet. The message is clear: self-abasement is in order.
The King turns his stare upon Gulhak. "We shall
conduct this tourney in our Coliseum, not under the sun," he rasps. And
then he spins suddenly, eyes on Pough. "Certainly not, fool. We were
commanded to destroy them and prove strength, not keep them around for
practice. If any still exist it is in the far Deeps."
Snurga's glassy eyes roll back a little, a rim of murky
white around the extremities of green irises to be seen, the moaning sound
continues creating bubbles in the blood-dribble.
Pough does not respond but turns back to the she.
Mentally noting her situation, he turns, and begins to depart from the temple,
leaving the others to their own speech.
Grumbkul subdues his laughter and lowers his eyes to the
King's feet. "And the wargs, Gothshaka?" His voice is low and humble,
a stark contrast to the cackling that was just leaping from his throat.
[Gulhak(#6377)] "But the /Sun/ can be brought to our
Coliseum with the light of many flames... no?"added Gulhak, though humbled
by Gothshaka's reply. His gaze falls to the floor as he awaits in silene once
more.
"My apologies, Gothshaka, for I didn't make myself
clear." Ezmakh replies, lowering his voice to avoid as many listening ears
as possible, "What I meant is not that you reward any blashpemers, but
that not all's complete loyalty is the same, some carry more sins than others,
even if they're not seen from outside. Moreover, the temple can know, with the
aid of the Flame, who in the future will remain faithful and not sin."
Adding a small bow afterwards, he quickly adds, "again, my apologies,
Gothshaka."
[Snurga(#17562)] For some reason, maybe the hammer wound
to her skull, Snurga's convulsions increase, twisting her slashed and bleeding
body in contorted and unnatural ways, more froth and blood from her lips as her
green eyes seem to flare into brightness for a moment--there's a sharp yelp of
pain that carries through the Temple, a final twitch and then she falls silent.
The She-Maluuk's death swallows her, leaving her corpse
in a pool of congealing blood on an already blood stained floor.
]Durbmog(#29406)]
The King's head tilts forward. Ominously he repeats the
gesture: index finger pointing down. "The Shamans advise the King, of
course, but it is I who judge."
His gaze flickers to Gulhak. "Perhaps," he
rasps, "and perhaps not. The light of the Flame is red; the weakling Sun
is pale yellow."
Ezmakh gets down upon his knee and gives a slow deep bow
to Durbmog, as ordered. During that action he murmurs "That is all I
meant, just suggested to let the shamans also question the contestants, before
giving their advises, yes." His red eyes scan the tall Uruk-Hai, and
blink. The Hammerer now remains silent.
Pough turns sharply, eyes afixing themselves upon the
newly-dead corpse of Snurga. The eyes are still, unemotional, and unmoved. But
as he stands, staring, he opens his mouth, "And so it happens," He
mutters, and again moves toward the still-warm corpse.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Surely the Shamans will do as they see best; the
Flame has given them a measure of wisdom." The Gothshaka turns, fixing
Grumbkul with a thoughtful glance. "You growl. You would speak? Then speak
-- don't growl."
[Grublub(#8601)] Hearing all the commotion in the Temple,
the wee form of Grublub comes scampering down the halls, intent on seeing
what's up. The little Uruk enters the Great Temple, blending in with the crowds
of Uruks gathered. Grublub makes his way towards the front rows, moving
inbetween the larger Uruk's legs. He finally comes to a stop near the front,
facing the King. Grublub peeks at the King and those speaking to him, watching
through a few sets of Uruk legs.
Grumbkul looks back up at the King, realizing after a
moment of silent thought that it's he who is being addressed.
"Gothshaka," he nods, "I'm only eager to hear your thoughts on
my suggestion about the wargs." The death spasms of the nearby she-uruk
don't even win a glance from the orc.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The King pauses for a moment as if in thought; then he
grunts. "Don't trust Wargs. We can work with them in the field, but I
don't want 'em closer to our Mines than can be helped. Wolves, maybe. Wolves
can be trained."
[Pough(#10607)]
Reaching down, Pough removes the armband from the bisept of the late
Snurga. Placing this item into his pouch, he stands again and backs away.
Remaining here for but a moment, he moves off, and it would appear that he did
not lax in his speed...
[Gulhak(#6377)] Gulhak remain silent as the Gothshaka
replies again, giving no further comments or suggestion. He nods in silence as
he hears the King's answer, his gaze now distant now carried into another world
within momentarily. Yet the recent demise of his latest patient seems to remind
him of cruel reality of where he is, within the bowels of death, in the pits of
Hell. And once more, the low rumbling of the flowing larva beneath their feet
brought back Gulhak's roving mind.
[Grumbkul(#16159)] "Gothshaka knows best,"
Grumbkul bows. "Wolves, then... they'll be baited by the blood of any who
get wounded." He grins and a wave of laughter seems about to approach its
crest again. "Too much bleeding, might start feeding!" The laughter
breaks. "Might be a good test for the fighters, or for the racers. But
Gothshaka knows best..." He tries once more to stifle his cackles, with
partial success.
"Perhaps," after a long silent wating Ezmakh
murmurs silently once more, "Perhaps there could be a fighting competition
when the contestants fight with a random weapon, no matter if they are trained
in it or not, Gothshaka, yes." Still upon his knees, he semi-bows and
explains "this can test not only combat skills, but also with and
improvisation skills as well."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The King turns, bright mail shimmering. "Be
prepared, my children," he rasps. Hone your skills to a razor's edge and
you may prove victorious."
And with that he stalks away, out of the Temple and into
the darkness of Moria.
[Grumbkul(#16159)] The King gone, and with him the
desparate need for all respect, Grumbkul lets his laughter run freely. It pours
out, welled-up inside with visions of awful things having just happened, and
awful things to come. The weapon he still holds is raised a final time.
"Get ready to break some bodies!" he booms in a deep and guttural
voice. And then the mattock comes flying down from overhead, smashing into the
lifeless form of Snurga. Bones shatter with a piercing *CRACK* and blood
spurts--what little is left in the body. The hammerer returns his weapon to his
belt, its dull black iron now glistening with black blood. And with that he
departs the temple, leaving a trail of echoing laughter behind.
[Grublub(#8601)] The little form of Grublub crawls slowly
forward towards Snurga's body. The wee Uruk tries to look busy as he waits for
the Temple to empty out, casting glances at the mangled She-Uruk.
[Gulhak(#6377)] Turning towards the now dead snurga,
Gulhak removes the chattering teeth tied to Snurga's hair and places the
dentures inside his pouch before heading out and up towards the Drum room. His
departure seems to shadow after the Gothshaka's as he slinks away into the
darkness. Prior to leaving, Gulhak orders two passing snagas to retreive the
Snurga's body and sent to the furnace to be consumed by fire.
With the departure of the king, Ezmakh rises again upon
his feet and looking briefly around, as the healthy ones in rapid rate leave
the temple. All of a sudden a twisted wide smirk broadens upon his face.
"No waist of ore and my talent on _that_ pathetic weak one, yes." he
murmurs to himself and starts walking towards the body of Snurga. After the
departure of Gulhak, the Hammerer stands in the way of the two snagas and
orders them to halt. So they do.
Grublub glances at the pair of Snaga that approach the
mooshed Snurga. The little Uruk trots forward, bending over Snurga,
"Hmmms" he says to himself. He looks up at Ezmakh, shrugging.
Reaching downwards, Grublub picks up Snurga's bow to examine it, "Always
liked these things" he says to himself, pretending to fire the bow at no
one in particular, simply plucking the bowstring.
Joining his hands in front of the two snagas, the Tetrak
grunts at them "New plan, new orders, yes yes. Put down the body, and
wait." The two snagas do as said, having no other choice. And with a thud
drop the corpse from the air. The hammerer now glances at Grublub and asks with
impatience "Who are you, and what do you think you're doing with that
bow?" His mood is impatient, clearly in his voice.
Grublub turns and looks way way up at Ezmakh, "Me?
Me taking Bow so me can use it....." he chitters, looking down at the bow
in his hands, "No see anyone else round that want it, me probly use it
better then them anyways"
Grublub picks up her Black Bow.
"Oh really?" Ezmakh replies Sarcastically,
"well, if you can proove me that you are worthy to carry Snurga's bow, I
won't step in the way." His voice again is wry, but attention now moves to
the corpse. The Morghash Tetrak leans downwards to it, and starts running his
hands upon the body, shaking and griping, he searches something.
Grublub eyes Ezmakh, "What you want me ta do
then?" he chitters at the larger Uruk, still holding Snurga's bow in his
little hands.
"Are you teasing me Maggot?" Ezmakh snarls while
continuing his search. "Upsetting an officer is not a wise thing. And your
convincing rates decrease. Ah!" the Tetrak suddenly pulls out a small
leather sack. "She said she had money to pay for armor, yes." He
murmurs to himself with a grin.
Dead_Snurga +gives you a Gold Florin.
Grublub scratches his head a little, peering up at the
Uruk, "No Sir, You want me to shoot targets?" he he glances around
the Temple, "Not want to anger Shamans here, we go to shooting range
maybe?" he asks respectfully.
Ezmakh tears with his teeth the small sack and finds in
it a shiny golden coin. A sort of spark brightens his dark red eyes at the
glance of the weapon, and his grin twistedly broaden even more. Quickly, with
small metallic clinks following, he tosses the coin into a leather scak he
carries upon his belt, and with that immedately changes face expression,
looking again at Grublub. "I don't want you to shoot arrows, maggot,"
he snarls, as though he had no bliss just a moment earlier, "I want you,
right here and now, convince me that you should keep the bow instead of
retrieving it to the Master Scout!" The two snagas at his side, still
waiting, jump backwards in fear. The hammerer quickly adds "And what's is
your name, maggot? tribe and job too."
[Grublub(#8601)] The little Uruk looks up at Ezmakh,
"Cause me put it to good use, me had training wif it... Not many others
have. An me smaller then rest of Uruks, No good fighting claw to claw if me
just get pushed around an get in way, better if me stand back an shoot at them
pointy ears...." and he looks down at the ground, "Master Scout call
me Grublub, though me no have tribe, Me just walk around and help Bigger Uruks
do things..."
The Tetrak takes a moment before replying, playing with
the money sack of his with his left hand, and eventually replies with a harsh
tone "Very well, Grublub, you have my approval. But temporarily. You must
see the Master Scout and persuade him as well. She was one of his closest
servants, he has the right and necessity to be involved. Now you two!" he
turns his head to the two snagas, "Find a shaman and to sacrifice her
appropriately to the Flame. She deserved it." With that the Ezmakh starts
walking away, soon vanishing through the exit to the Drum Room.
Grublub nods respectfully at the Hammerer. Turning, The little Uruk slowly makes his way from the Temple, headed towards Durin's way.