Moria, First Hall
A definite feeling of ancient strength can be felt
within this wide echoing hall; this may very well be the oldest chamber cut
into Khazad Dum, making up in the venerability of its existence what it lacks
in the refinement of its style. The ceiling here is peaked, containing windows
high above that spill forth generous amounts of light - from the sun, moon, or
stars. The walls of the chamber are smoothed slabs of blue marble, set with an
axehead pattern of rose quartz. To the east are the smashed remains of once
mighty steel reinforced doors. Beyond the forced gates are the wide expanses of
Middle Earth. To the west, a broad and shallow stair exits the hall, descending
into darkness.
Contents:
Z’macht
M’Giddo
Chukk
Fenzokh
Hykhert
Morgosh
Jazad-Gul
Camp of the Southern Orcs
Obvious exits:
Narrow Doorway
leads to Durin's Bridge
The First Hall is a cacophony of sound,
uruks of Moria and Southrons milling about waiting for the meetings to begin.
Tables have been lined up in a long row, a decent pace away from the Southron
camp. The wooden benches along the sides of the tables, freshly made from spare
wood kept in the Gatherer's mill, are reserved for the representatives from
both Moria and Isendrim. At the end of the tables there are two seats, each
reserved for the leader from either culture.
Along the table there are already cups and
bowls to be used by the uruks and uruk-hai during the Trade talks to come. The
cups, filled with ale, shake with the rumbling of so many footsteps nearby;
sometimes even spilling the ale onto the tables. The bowls remain empty, though
the serving snaga across the way from this gathering appear to be crafting a
type of stew, along with kabobs of different meats. The greasy smell of this
uruk-food permeates the air, saturating everything with its grimy juices.
The air seems thick with tension as the
meetings prepare to begin, messages being relayed amongst the uruks just as
fast as the daily rumor mill spreads its mischievous tales through the Mines on
a regular basis. As some Morians continue to pour forth from Durin's Bridge,
the majority there just to watch the proceedings and some to heckle, the small
crowd quiets a bit; the once loud sounds turning to a mere murmur which echoes
in the depths of the chasm nearby.
Chukk
trundles into the hall, he snifss a bit and takes a look around the hall and
blinks. "Wha...lotso folksaround...."
M'giddo
enters the hall, alone and armor-clad, a one-handed pickaxe hanging from his
belt, and a small wooden shield dangling from a strap off his back, bouncing
against his back with each step. Stopping for a moment at the top of the
western star, he looks about the room with sharp eyes, as if looking for
someone. After a bit, he smiles, showing sharpened teeth, and continues
walking, heading for the meeting table.
Chukk
says, "Ay-oh....who here knows where I can get some work wit da Hammer?
Huh?" he nudges a few orcs to try and get a response. "Ain't no one
ever use it but me?"
Already near the meeting tables, Huzghash
stands calmly. Slowly the Guard slips the shield from his arm, strapping the
metal disc across his back. The Guard's eyes scan all the while, first catching
sight of the freshly entered M'giddo, offering the uruk-hai a nod before
passing. Securing the shield across his back, Huzghash moves nearer the table,
the shield rattling with each step.
Durbmog
strides into view from the west, hood lowered, pale eyes glinting ...
Fenzokh
seems to materialize out of the darkness of the hall, moving slowly and quietly
until he is near enough to the others to hear what they are saying. He pats his
weapons out of habit, insuring that they are still there.
M'giddo
approaches the tables, and takes his seat - At the north end of the table, the
reserved leader's seat. The southern end seat, is of course, meant for the
leader of the orcs from the south.
Once
seated, after arranging shield and pickaxe to allow him to sit comfortably
while still keeping them within reach if needed, Megiddo adjusts the angle of
the seat so he can see both the length of the tables, and the western stairway.
Then, he leans his elbows on the tables, handles steepled and calls out to the
room at large, "Are you about all ready to get started now?".
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
The camp is busy with the uruks and snaga scurrying around carrying weapons and
armor for masters. A few snaga stand close to the tents and watch the activity
as the other orcs set up for the meeting. When the master catches the few idle
snaga a low growl is heard and the snaga run for their duties.
One tent seems quiet as the flap flips up and
Dirg'kra steps out. She stretches a bit and adjusts her armor and weapons. A
brief brush of imaginary dirt and she steps towards the meeting area. Stopping
in the middle of camp the she-hai snorts as she sees that the other Wolves are
not to be seen. Waiting a moment for the others to meet with her she wraps one
arm over the other across her chest.
[Hykhert(#28992)]
Though day burns outside Moria, and this hall bustles, there are still dark
corners in this massive chamber. Just away from the excitement, in view but
barely so, stands a hunched Uruk clad in ragged shrouding. Somewhat dirty and
insignificant looking, this one yet radiates a certain air of authority despite
his diminutive appearance. Mere pomp or genuine might, one is hard pressed to
determine from a glance.
[Z'macht(#27431)]
Mechanically marching in from the west, Z'macht's steely eyes survey the First
Hall and the creatures gathered. "Quite a spectacle," he whispers
through tight lips to a guard at his side. The Morghash Chieftain is perhaps a
head taller than the guard and waits for him to answer.
"Yes, m' Lord." The guard points
a finger. "There, Lord Z'macht, reserved for you - Talashakh."
Z'macht nods his helmeted head, spits on
the ground, and then approaches his seat. He greets all present with a fist on
his chest and then sits down.
Jazad-Gul
glides up to Dirg'kra's right side, and stands ready to advance to the tables.
[Morgosh(#20425)]
A small figure groggily stumbles out of the Southeners Camp, hastily throwing
on equipment and weaponry. Though he is small, he figure belies a strength not
common for one his size. From the aroma of ale that drifts from his clothing it
can be explained why he is late to rise. He glances around and spots the
gathering of his compatriots and staggers to join them, the Wolf head on his
cloak rippling in the wind.
Jazad-Gul
sees Oolug the Snaga, and snaps his fingers at him. "Attend us," he
whispers harshly
Huzghash
nods again, his eyes scanning over the rest of the table; a cursory glance given
of the Southron's camp. Saluting the Talashakh as he approaches, Huzghash moves
to sit next to the Uruk. "I do hope this moves swiftly," Huzghash
murmurs to the few uruks already seated. The Guard's eyes search out again,
passing over many an uruk without pause; finally returning to the table at
hand.
Durbmog
advances, robes swishing about him. As he approaches the table, he quite
placidly draws out a chair -- and sits down.
Chukk
quints at the southernerns and ambles closer to the people he knows. He pauses
by Fenzok and nudges him "We finally leavin' to go south?"
Fenzokh
moves up quietly. "Greetings, chieftan and Talashakh." he says,
kneeling to Z'macht. "I haven't had a chance to speak with you since I was
added to your tribe, I would just like to express my pride at becoming a
Morghash."
[Oolug(#30515)]
The pitiful snaga quickly rushes to Jazad and Dirg's side. Happy to do anything
to help the meeting between the Southern Orcs and the Morians. This was no
small thing to do.
[Hykhert(#28992)]
The rag-covered figure, still lurking on the periphery of the meeting, follows
many of the conversations with dimly burning eyes, but does nothing to interact
with the crowd. Doing little to draw attention to himself, he seems content to
observe unobtrusively.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra watches as the few move to join her. Seeing Morgosh and his state the
mismatched eyes narrow and she leans over towards this uruk, "you will see
me when this meeting is over." Her rancid breathe breaths down on the that
uruk and what is to come for his actions.
A quick nod to Jazad-Gul and the Wolf master
walks over to the table. A brief toothy smile towards the other end of the
table and Dirg'kra takes the seat reserved for the leader. Adjusting herself
and weapons the she-hai leans back in her chair.
Jazad-Gul
strides beside the Wolf master, and takes the seat immediately at her right. He
leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he eyes the Morians.
Chukkfrowns
as he is apparently ignored and peers around for someone to answer him.
M'giddo
snorts when he sees that the southern orc taking their leader's seat is female,
and licks his lips with a crimson tongue. Then, he raises his voice in a shout
so that he can be overheard over all the hubbub, "If you are here to take
part in this council, SIT! If not, shut up and get away from the table while
your betters talk."
[Oolug(#30515)]
Right after Dirg'kra and Jazad-Gul are seated, Oolug scampers away to a dark
corner where he can watch the events.
Z'macht
turns his helmeted head to the left and gazes at Fenzokh. A malevolent smile
slithers across his pocked and wartorn face. Lips part to reveal rows of sharp
teeth: "This is most excellent to hear," he says, nodding. "I
will quickly find a job for you above your usual duties. Never idle, you know?
Aye - the way the flame likes it - and the Dark Priesthood."
In the background drums begin to pound.
Not to loud - but present.
Boom. Rest.
Boom. Rest.
Chukk
looks up immediately when M'giddo shouts and is quiet
Fenzokh
looks about quickly and nervously at the shout, and then out of instinct does
what he is told and takes a seat. Beside the chieftan. Uh oh. He's not sure
what to do next, but in order to not look like an idiot he stays where he is,
pretending he is perfectly well suited to take a seat beside Z'macht.
Morgosh
quietly follows the Wolf Master towards the table, he glances around quickly
and takes up a stance a few meters away from the table. After peering back to
the camp, he moves towards the seat to the left of the she-hai, his equipment
rattling.
Huzghash
allows a smirk to creep across his face, his gaze falling upon the Southrons as
they sit at the table. The Guard's eyes flicker, crimson irises moving in a
circular pattern around the uruk's pupil. Watching the Southron's closely but a
moment longer, Huzghash turns his eyes back to Megiddo, waiting for the talks
to begin.
Hykhert,
the raggedly cloaked one in the shadows hears the announcement, but does not
appear to choose either of the options afforded him by the claimant to the
Throne. Instead, he maintains his post, idly leaning against a pillar in the
shadows as if passing a lazy eve rather than watching the increasingly tense
trade talks.
Jazad-Gul
leans back in his chair, waiting for the leader of the Morians to continue.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra glances from face to face of the orcs seated at the table. A brow
arches as she hears the snorts and sees the smirks but only inhales and relaxes
even more in her chair. One thumb absently runs over the weapon at her
side."Who is to begin the talks here?
[M'giddo(#25526)]
Taking a deep breath, Megiddo continues after a time, in a normal volume once
again. "So, now that we're all here in one place, let's get started. I am
Megiddo, regent of Moria. Noteable among us are Z'macht, chieftain of the
Morghash tribe, and Huzghash, the chief guard of Moria," he points at the
two orcs in question as he mentions their names. "And your people..."
his voice trails off, and he looks down the table at Dirg'kra.
Fenzokh
has disconnected.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
raises a black-clad hand from the tabletop, claws clicking. "And
myself," he declares. "The Master of the Scouts."
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Oh, yes," says Megiddo in a dry tone. "How could I forget
you?"
Fenzokh
has connected.
[<#27431>]
Z'macht nods at M'giddo's words and then whispers something in Fenzokh's ear.
"... along ... ... ... ... ... ... ... some ... ...." He looks at his
empty bowl. "... returning, ... will sit ... ... side. ... - you ... ... a
... ... ... ... glory." He turns back to face the talks, making eye contact
with each Southerner individually.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
shrugs wordlessly, as though to convey his surprise that M'giddo could forget
such an important fact at all. Perchance wisely, he doesn't smile.
Huzghash
merely nods, his eyes scanning over the Southrons slowly.
[<#28992>]
Hykhert ventures forth from his shadowing roost, quietly and unassumingly
sidling up to the Morghash Talashakh. As he reaches Z'macht, Hykhert bends
mumbling quietly in his ear -- after waiting for Fenzokh to take leave, of course.
"... is ... ... ... . . . ... speak ... ... ...; ... ... . . . ...."
Seeming to show little concern at his absence fromthe introductions of M'giddo
(perhaps Hykhert is not as significant as his air might make him appear), nor
to the proclamation of sorts from Durbmog, Hykhert then begins to slip away.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra nods to each of the Morian orcs in turn of their introduction.
Glancing back to M'giddo, "I am Dirg'kra, Master of the Wolf clan of the
great army from the south." Raising a clawed hand, "this is Jazad-Gul
Lt. to the Master Wolf." Looking towards Morgosh and frowning slightly,
"this is Morgosh of the Wolf Clan and Leader of the Wolf riders."
Jazad-Gul
nods to the Morians, looking back and forth from Z'macht to Mgiddo.
Morgosh
nods his head to each of the Morians before removing his helmet to rub his
forehead.
[Fenzokh(#18053)]
Probably the largest smile that ever came onto Fenzokh's twisted face comes
onto it now. Nodding and saluting madly, he gets up and trundles off to the
feasting hall for some food.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Very well," says Megiddo. "Now... I believe that the force our
Warlord took south to chase some of our rebels and avenge their killing of our
last king ended up encountering some of your orcs at one point, and someone at
that meeting brought up the possibility of mutually beneficial interaction
between our two kingdoms, despite our past differences and difficulties, which
is why we're here today. Right?"
Hykhert
quietly moves from the hall, only after pausing and turning for a brief, but
investigative, glance at many present. Then, as discreetly as he arrived, the
Master Shaman is gone from this place, no doubt returning to his sanctuary for
whatever religious duty awaits him there.
Hykhert
heads West, through the narrow doorway.
Hykhert
has left.
[<#27431>]
Z'macht watches Fenzokh scuttle away and then nods to Hykhert, not wanting to
interrupt the talks. "..., Master .... ... ... ... .... ... bless
...." Shortly after, Z'macht hears M'giddo's words and adds to them. 'We
encountered them on the way home from Dunland, Lord M'giddo' he says. 'Shortly
after we wiped the earth of the rebel scum.'
Huzghash
remains silent for the time being, his eyes flicking back down towards the
Southron's in order to listen to what they have to say.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra nods, "Yes, we are here for the benefit of both. I remember being
here long ago. I think all humans are scum but don't know of what you
speak?" Looking to Z'macht and tipping her head a bit to watch this orc.
Fenzokh
returns, bearing plates of meat and big tankards of ale. Placing them before
Z'macht and his own place at the table, Fenzokh takes a seat and watches the
proceedings.
Jazad-Gul
coughs and whispers to Dirg.
[<#31162>]
Jazad-Gul +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... ... have had a rebellion. ... ...
... ...."
Z'macht
nudges Fenzokh and coughs. "The Latadurub - the Shakh. Might they be
hungry and thirsty, eh?"
M'giddo
blinks. "Humans? What do those walking meals have to do with anything?
Unless you think we should team up more often to hunt them down?"
You
paged Z'macht with 'Thanks, bo.'.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra smiles and looks to M'giddo, "that would be something we would
enjoy. But your right they have nothing to do with what we are here for."
[Z'macht(#27431)]
The hall, the observers and ther participants, break into a short refrain of
harsh and throaty laughter. Most nod their head in agreement. Some like their
lips.
Z'macht drinks from his tankard and then
says. "Indeed - they are a ready source of meat ... Like taking mutton
from a snaga ... But we gather here today to talk trade."
Morgosh
glances up briefly from rubbing his temples. He glances quickly at Huzghash and
then returns to rubbing his temples.
"Yes,
Regent. As I have spoken with Dirg'kra and others amongst her, they are here to
establish a trade alliance of sorts. Correct?" Huzghash speaks up, waiting
for all others to finish before doing so. The Guard's eyes, however, flick to
the Southron's looking expectantly for confirmation.
Jazad-Gul
nods and smiles, leaning forward to take a drink of the Morian ale.
Fenzokh
winces. Of course. He's going to get kicked out of this council before he even
gets to participate in it. He gets up and heads back to the feasting hall, soon
returning with five serving snagas that quickly dole out food to the rest of
the assembly. He makes sure that the latadurub and the other high-ranking
morians get the best meat. He takes a seat again, and once again listens
intently to the meeting.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Trade?" asks Megiddo. "What kind of trades are you all thinking
about? I have an idea or two, of course, but I should know what's been talked
of already." He stops to take a drink from the mug the serving snaga
placed before, ignoring the accompanying meat for now. Talking's thirsty
business.
Jazad-Gul
nods again, then speaks up, "Aye, Morian... We are here to trade. We've
been waiting on the Talashakh for weeks..."
Morgosh's
eyes light up at the sight of meat and ale. He quickly grabs one of the drinks
and takes a sip from it. He pulls a knife from his boot and quickly slices off
apiece of the meat before quickly eating it.
Jazad-Gul
cuts to the chase, "Our leather for your ore," he says simply.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra sits up and leans over and wraps a calloused hand around the mug.
Bringing the ale up to her nose she sniffs, grins and takes a large gulp.
Whiping the back of her hand over her mouth sets the mug back onto the table. A
stern set of eyes cut to Morgosh and they narrow, "know your place
wolf."
M'giddo
pushes his seat to a different angle, one where he can look at Jazad-Gul more
directly, the wooden legs of the seat squeeling against the hard stone floor.
"Your leather?" he repeats. "Yes. I have heard rumors that your
caves are near a great flat plain filled with horses, sheep, and other beasts.
Is this the leather you're offering?"
Morgosh
slowly draws back from Dirg'kra. He wipes his knife on his pants and then
returns it to his boot. He turns his eyes down quickly and then quickly glances
at the Morians.
Z'macht
snarls and puts down his tankard. "Are you insinuating that I am lax in my
duties, lieutenant? Because it is not the case." He leans forward and
listens to M'giddo, agreeing, perhaps a bit more hostile than before.
Fenzokh
takes a drink of his ale, still saying nothing as of yet.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra coughs, "Yes we have the humans herds to choose from."
Reaching again for that ale. A head snaps around and eyes meet those of
Z'macht. "No my Lieutenant meant none of that Z'macht. We understand that
everyone is busy with tasks of all sorts."
Jazad-Gul
slams down his own tankard and shouts back, "I insinuate nothing, Morian.
You don't seem...." he gets cut off by what Dirg says.
Morgosh's
head jerks up and his hand slowly slides to the hilt of his sword. He stays
seated, but plants his feet and quickly glances at the other Southrons at the
table.
M'giddo
looks between Z'macht and Jazad-Gul. "Are you done spitting at each other
so we can continue?" he asks.
Jazad-Gul
sits back and nods stiffly to the regent of Moria.
Jazad-Gul
crosses his arms.
Morgosh
releases his hand from his sword and relaxes.
Huzghash
grunts, eyes latching upon Jazad-gul a moment before moving on. "What of
lumber though? I had heard there was some lumber that could be sent our
way." Huzghash's brow furrows, his eyes again flicking between Z'macht and
Jazad-gul.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
"Jazad-Gul is only concerned with our time absent from the caves and our
own duties to attend to." Smiling at Jazad-Gul, "He is one of our
best and wants only the best for our own. But yes lets continue with talks of
trade"
Z'macht
says nothing but sits back in his chair, a boiling over kettle that is
simmering back down. "Aye, M'giddo," he says. "I apologize - we
shall continue."
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest.
Chukk
mutters about Morian ore being worth alot more than Southerm leather.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Good." Megiddo continues. "Do you have access to cow-leather? I
am far more familiar with the digging and smelting of ore than with
armor-making and the like, but I know that the armor-smiths like the thickness
of cow hide for the best leather armor. Not that thinner skins don't have their
uses, of course." Turning away from Jazad-Gul for a moment to look at
Huzghash, he says, "Wood can come next. One thing at a time."
Jazad-Gul
nods to Huz and then to Dirg, "Aye, Master, as you say. Aye, Huzghash. We
have lumber, too. Since your own woods seem to have a nasty infestation, we
would gladly bring our lumber up this way."
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
The She-hais eyes narrow as she looks at Chukk. Smiling evily at the small orc.
M'giddo
chuckles at Jazad-Gul's remark about the nearby forest.
[<#20425>]
Morgosh +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... ... ... ... ... to ... ... ... the ...
...?"
Jazad-Gul
grins and watches the Wolf master.
Khamuz
heads West, through the narrow doorway.
Khamuz
has left.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Bringing her attention back to M'giddo, "Yes I think we could find
cow-leather. I know that sheep and horse are far more abundant but will see
what the leather smiths have available." Eyes move to Huzghash then back
to M'giddo, "Lumber is another thing we could trade."
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra's large head turns around to face Morgosh, mismatched eyes shine in
the dark hall, "that won't be needed."
Jazad-Gul
finishes his ale, then snaps his fingers at Oolug, "Bring me more,"
he hisses in a whisper.
Morgosh
nods solemnly and faces the Morian delegation.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Hearing the snap of those fingers Dirg'kra turns towards the snaga, "I
want more too."
Oolug
quickly scurries from his place in the shadows. He goes to the camp, then
returns a minute later with some ale and a cup. He sets the ale and cup down,
and fills the cup. He then runs back to his place in the shadows.
[<#28194>]
Dirg'kra +whispers to Morgosh, "We will ... ... ... ... ..."
Jazad-Gul
nods for Dirg t otake the new cup of ale, while he takes the ale skin and
refills his tankard.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Yes," says Megiddo. "We have a hard time growing trees
underground, and the scrub trees that grow on the mountainsides aren't well
suited for things like spear shafts. The good woods around here are," he
sighs, and takes another sip of ale, "mostly inaccessable. Every time we
try to harvest them, we end up burning more trees down to flush out elves
hiding in them than we take back. It's most annoying."
The
regent leans back in his chair. "So. Your leather and wood for our ore. Is
that all? I'm sure we can be convinved to let go some of our fine weapons and
armor instead of raw ore or smelted bars of iron. Just as I doubt you'd want to
haul cut logs up here when it could be bundles of spear shafts or shield
frames."
Morgosh
glances at the she-hai and nods. He pauses to turn to watch the regent and a
smirk forms on his face.
Durbmog
has disconnected.
[<#27431>]
Z'macht nods his helmeted head as he listens to the trade negotiations. So far
- things are smooth. He leans to his rightt and mutters something in the
Latadurub's ear. "We ... ... ... ... ... ... routes. .... .... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... deplete our ... - ... ... ... ... would ... ... ...
... ... ... ... as ... as we ... .... ... would ... ... ... ... ...."
Jazad-Gul
watches Z'macht intently, and listens closely.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra coughs and stands up. Takes her axe off and sets it on the table. Then
takes her seat. Looking to Megiddo, "I think that would be easier to haul
around, spears and arrow shafts then logs. I know our smiths could get that
done. What kind of armor an weapons would be offered?"
Chukk
grins at the she-hai crookedly, then scowls with a low growl.
Fenzokh
glances at Z'macht. What first seems like a stupid idea suddenly seems like a
very good one- though the smiths will have to labor to produce weapons, the
morians could recieve pre-formed spear shafts and the like- and after all, the
morian smiths are far more talented than the carpenters. "I agree with the
Regent." he says simply, then takes another swig of his ale.
[<#25526>]
M'giddo leans over so he can mutter back to the chieftan. "Agreed. I'm ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... to ... ... well. ... ... you ... ... ... a ... ...
... ... here and their lands ... ... ... ... trade ... ...?"
[<#27431>]
Z'macht's eyes light up as he listens to the Regent. He nods, "... ...
idea. ..., ... ... ... to be ... ... mind: ..., we ... no ... ... from ... ...
... .... ... ... ... ... ... be sent ... ... immediately at ... .... ..., ...
... ... ... ... ... should not ... ... ... Morian ... - ... ... ... ... ...
effort ... protect ... ... ...."
[<#27431>]
Z'macht's eyes light up as he listens to the Regent. He nods, "... ...
.... However, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...: ..., we ... ... ... ... ... ...
... Southerners hail. A ... of scouts ... ... sent ... ... immediately ... ...
.... ..., ... ... ... ... ... forts ... ... ... ... on Morian ... - ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...." repose
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra leans over and whispers to Jazad-Gul
[<#28194>]
Dirg'kra +whispers to Jazad-Gul, "... ... ... like ... ... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... filled ..."
Jazad-Gul
nods to to the Wolf Master
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Well," Megiddo drawls, "Stuff that's mostly iron, no doubt.
Ring and chain armors, metal helmets and shields. Axe and war-hammer heads.
Spearpoints and arrow heads. Swords. Caltrops. The usual suspects." He
falls silent then, listening to Z'macht, and nodding. Then, he speaks again.
"There are a lot of details that need to be worked out if this trading is
to happen. I suggest that both sides make lists of what materials and supplies
they need, and what they want, as well as estimates of what they can produce,
how much, and how often that we think it will be possible to send caravans, and
how they will be protected from raiding humans and tree-hugging elves. With
such lists in hand, sorting out what is desired and possible for both sides
should be much easier and go fairly quickly."
[<#31162>]
Jazad-Gul +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... ... I ... them talking about forts
... the ... ..."
The
Guard's head tilts slightly, bringin him closer to the Talashakh's ear.
"What of this Talashakh. We should take some full length logs as well,
nice straight ones. twnty or so feet long in all. They could be used to form a
gridwork of sharpened stakes to protect our archers from Eagles during
battle." Huzghash's brow furrows as he backs away a bit, his eyes watching
the Talashakh's reaction.
[<#31162>]
Jazad-Gul +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... out ... homes, but I'm ... sure.
That ... ... ... ... ...."
[<#28194>]
Dirg'kra +whispers to Jazad-Gul, "... ... ... ... ... ..."
[Mol(#17618)]
*Smack-Slap* *Smack-Slap* Something lumbers its way from Durin's Bridge.
*Smack-Slap* *Smack-Slap* The thunderous foot falls reverberate even in these
great halls. Slowly a massive olog slides into view, draging a great battle axe
behind him. He seems slightly unconcerned as he makes his way down towards the
large groups of assembled snacks.
Fenzokh
taps his fingers on the table idly. He can't think of anything else to say.
[<#27431>]
Z'macht nods to his Shakh. "All is in the works." He crooks his head
at the regent. "We have discussed such things - would you be interested in
leading the project?"
M'giddo
half jumps out of his chair as the sounds of the approaching troll are heard,
hand going down to his pick as he stares at the stairway... but when the beast
enters, the regent relaxes again.
Morgosh
reaches back into his boot to draw out his knife. He pulls his plate towards
him and then quickly cuts a piece of meat off and stuffs it in his mouth. At
the sight of the troll he draws a quick drink from his mug.
Z'macht's
heartbeat speeds. He knows this beast. The Talashakh does his best to keep half
an eye on Mol and his cleaving weapon.
Jazad-Gul
tenses as he hears the footsteps, and doesn't relax when the troll apprears.
Huzghash
nods to the Shakh, "I would. The Master Scout and I discussed such matters
earlier." The Guard's eyes widen as the foot steps of the troll pound into
the cavern.
Oolug
sits, rigid with shock. He almost jumps out of his hiding place and runs for
his life, but he realizes that would draw attention and he would be punished.
He then noticed the Morians not reacting in a hostile manner, that stopped him.
M'giddo's
long-nailed fingers had begun to drum impatiently on the tabletop as the
whispering rises up all around, but the arrival of the troll seems to have put
a stop to the whispering as well as the drumming. He continues to wait for a
reply from the southerners.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)] Dirg'kra sucks her teeth,
"I agree. We should make up the lists and...." Stopping in
midsentence as she turns to watch the large troll enter the hall. A hand moves
to rest on the axe handle. Seeing Megiddo relax Dirg'kra does the same and her
hand slips into her lap. "When should we meet again with the lists?"
[Morgosh(#20425)]
From the Camp of the Southorns a lone figure rushes towards the meeting. As he
reaches the meeting he quickly glances around. The small snaga rushes up toward
the Southern's side of the table and reaches the side of Morgosh. He whispers a
quick few words in his ear and Morgosh turns to glare at the snaga. He quickly
rises and leans over to whisper a few words in the Wolf Master's ear before
pushing the snaga out of the way and rushing towards the camp.
Mol's
eyes roam over the assembled Morians. He seers, Chieftains and other
high-ranking orc types, not suitable for a meal. As the olog's eyes look
M'giddo over, Mol notices an unknown orc speaking with him. Southerners. A
broad grin crosses the troll's chubby face. Casually he starts to move closer,
trying to be inconspicuous.
[Horvak(#27357)]
The slow, steady approach of a large beast can be heard to echo throughout the
hall. The rhythmatic thumping slowly grows louder and louder with its approach.
A stone behemoth soon emerges to glare arrogantly at the assembled orcs. He
looks at each orc - Morian and Southern - in turn, gauging the presence of
each. Horvak steps toward the table "Good. Good. I am glad to see that the
meeting proceeds. Tell me, Southern orcs, does my Latadurub negotiate
well?" The troll looks meaningfully at the orc seated in the northern end
of the table.
[<#20425>]
Morgosh +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... ... ... ... between ... ... ... clan.
I ... ... ... ... ... ... .... ... ... ... to ... your .... I ... ... ... at
your ... ... ... return ... ... you ... ...."
Oolug
decides that he has seen enough of the monstrous troll. Picking his way quietly
through the shadows so as not to draw any attention, Oolug heads back towards
the camp.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"It will probably take a few days for us to make up our lists. There are
many people to talk to about it in the gatherers and smiths," his voice
raises for a minute, "And if anyone got eaten before this is done, it'd be
a /real/ shame..." before continuing as normal, "and I don't know how
many people you have with you that are knowledgable to fill in the details on
your side. Enough time to send a fast runner back to your home and back if you
need to?" As the second troll arrives, Megiddo tenses again, nails leaving
little crecent notches in the table top. "Warmaster. So good of you to
join us," he says to Horvak, ignoring the latadurub comment. "Your feats
in destroying the rebel army have been mentioned here tonight. Most
impressive."
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra frowns but nods as a few of her clan move back towards the camp
Jazad-Gul
simply watches the interplay among the Morians, obviously fastenated. Then he
leans over to Dirg and whispers something.
[<#31162>]
Jazad-Gul +whispers to Dirg'kra, "... ... ... *...* ... ... ...? ...-...
... rule..."
Mol
stops up as he hears someone mention the rebel army. His face scowls, "Mol
beat Traitor army. I's killed der chiefy and troll and puppy." The olog
frowns and shakes his head. "I's never get credit for beinging great
fighter." It seems the olog's Southron meal is forgotten for now.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
"Yes it will take some time to gather what we need. A runner will be sent
as soon as this meeting ends." Looking to the other troll the she-hai can
only stare. Looking up towards Horvak as her brows wrinkle together. A smile
creeps across her face as she nods to Jazad-Gul.
M'giddo
shoves his chair back and stands, right arm dangling down to rest on the butt
of the pick's shaft. "Good. You will inform us when your lists and ready,
and we shall meet again as soon as possible after that?"
Horvak
frowns at M'giddo's words. Yet, the troll nods and smiles reassuringly,
"My dear friends, I am most pleased by the possibility of trade between
our two realms. Indeed, the campaign went well, my latadurub." The troll
moves next to M'giddo and looks toward him, "I feel that Moria will be
strengthened by any trade between our lands. I hereby appoint my Latadurub,
M'giddo, to accompany you home in order to seal our agreement. I trust that my
friend here will know what is in the best interest of Moria and any trade that
becomes appearant." Horvak smiles as he looks at the Southern orcs.
Fenzokh
stands up and salutes the assembly, bowing to the Latadurub and the other
high-ranking Morian uruks, and heads off into the darkness.
[Shak'kaz(#30427)]
An orc of the Southern orcs, an Uruk, and with a black cloak on and his hood
over his eyes. Shak'kaz walks out of the camp and see's Morians and Southerners
trading there stuff. He walks over and see's the troll Horvak and remembers him
from the battle.
Jazad-Gul
exchanges glances with Dirg, then speaks up. "Uh... Troll-King? There's
really no need for your Morian and us to go all the way home. We'll just send a
runner, if that's okay with you?"
M'giddo
sighs tiredly at the troll's speech. "And hopefully," he continues to
Dirg'kra and Jazad-Gul, "by that time the Flame will have spoken, and you
can deal with an actual king, whomever it might be, instead of myself, the
Regent as Under-ruler of the dead King Magog, and a Warlord who fully expects
to be favored by the Flame and is already acting like it. It's a confusing state
of affairs, but I suspect that no matter how it turns out, any trade agreements
we make will still be honored on the Morian side afterwards."
Horvak
blinks in surprise and slowly turns to M'giddo, "Ah, I see. Much has
changed since I left on my campaign. You doubt my rulership here, latadurub?.
No matter, these Southern orcs have witnessed your usurption of my power. Very
well, your challenge is accepted." The troll turns to M'giddo and bows,
"Anytime my dear, dear Latadurub. Anytime?"
With
that the troll takes one step back and draws his stone axe.
[Dirg'kra(#28194)]
Dirg'kra stands up as well and takes her axe from the table and slides it into
its place at her hip. Looking then to Megiddo, "Yes we will send word to
you when that is done." Smiling and glancing at Jazad-Gul, "Yes we
have no need to take someone so important to your kingdom from his
duties." Looking briefly towards the troll then back to Megiddo. "Yes
it seems a bit confusing but will soon be made right I'm sure." Smiling at
the Regent and stepping backwards from the table. "I will send word."
That said Dirg'kra turns and walks back towards the camp.
Mol
snarls. Nobody listens to Mol, so the olog just stomps his way back towards the
inner-city of the Mountain. Before he leaves the olog pauses briefly and
hollars back into the chamber, "The Thrakiebuzzum Chieftain is
leaving!"
Jazad-Gul
watches the troll, almost frozen, but quickly jumps up and follows the Wolf
Master away.
Shak'kaz
see's all the southeners leave and follows them.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"Any time?" says Megiddo to the troll. "Any time, Warlord? Very
well. Let's go down to the temple and pray for the Flame to appear and show who
it wills to be King of Moria. Right now. The trade meeting's over, so I'm free."
M'giddo
reaches down with his free hand to grab his shield, and flips the haft of his
pick around so he's holding it the right way, though he makes no move towards
the troll. He does, however, smile at it. "What are we waiting for? The
throne's gone vacant for too long."
Horvak
smirks, "Excuses, excuses, my dear Latadurub. Attack me and claim your
Kingship, or scuttle away and admit you are coward to all." The troll
gestures with his axe.
[M'giddo(#25526)]
"I don't want to kill or cripple you, Warlord," says Megiddo.
"You're too valuable in that position, or even, possibly, if that is how
the Flame wishes it, as King. But I have to wonder..." he smirks,
"Why are you so unwilling to get that judgement from the Flame? This is
the second or third time you've tried to put it off. Afraid it won't be in your
favor?"
Durbmog
steeples his hands, eyes glittering softly as he gazes at M'giddo and Horvak
placidly. SHe makes no sound ...
Horvak
laughs, "I have no desire to avoid the judgement of the Flame. I am
certain that it will rule in my favor, as I am the mightiest of warriors. I
however am most curious as to why you continue to avoid fighting me. If you
believe that the Flame will truly want you as King then you will have the power
of the Flame in your blows and will defeat me easily. I however do not think
you have the Flames favor. Attack me and prove me wrong, coward. Or perhaps you
would like to crawl to your brood mother first..." The troll laughs again,
"This is fine entertainment for these Southern orcs. Perhaps you should
run to them and beg for asylum, for assuredly the Flame is for me as
King."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
rises wordlessly, hands still folded as he moves to take up a position
out-of-the-way of the confrontation developing.
M'giddo
says, "I do not presume to know the Flame's will, for I am but an orc, and
the Flame is our god, mightier than any orc... or troll. I do not know how it
will rule, whether for me, you, or someone else. But I am willing to find out
now. I would rather not kill you only to discover that it was indeed you that
the Flame saw as the next king." He sighs. "You seem intent on fighting,
though. Would it make you happy enough to be willing to pay that visit to the
Flame's lair if we fought to first blood, or," he looks at the troll's
hide, "broken scale first?"
Horvak
nods, "Such fine word for a coward. I love the way your tongue moves. I am
certain that many an orcess has fallen to your smooth and deceitful words. If
the Flame wishes me to be the next King, then you cannot kill me." The
troll takes one step back and swings his axe lazily in front of him. "Tell
you what? If I cannot kill you, then it will be readily apparent that the Flame
wants you as King." Horvak smiles, "As I said, I rather doubt that.
Kneel before me and swear your loyalty to me as my Latardurub, formally
acknowledging me as King of Moria. That way I do not have to kill you."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog's
claws click together, his eyes narrowing slightly, intent, intense.
Huzghash's
eyes are latched upon both Megiddo and Horvak, as Huzghash himself begins to
back away. Shield clackling against his back as the Master Guard swiftly makes
his way out of the path of any confrontation.
"No."
repeats Megiddo. "I will not formally acknowledge you as King of Moria
until the Flame says you are King of Moria. I will not formally acknowledge
/anyone/ as King of Moria, including myself, until the Flame says who the next
King of Moria is. At that point, I will either be the King, or will willingly
swear fealty to them, and either go on being the Latadurub, or return to my
mines. I am proposing that we go to the Flame now to settle the question, possibly
with a fight to first blood to settle your apparent fixation on brute force and
violence. That approach certainly does settle many questions of the sort a
Warlord faces, so I can understand why you have it, but it's growing boring and
repetitive. Do we see the Flame now or very soon in the near future, or don't
we?"
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Softly,
Durbmog pads over toward Huzghash, avoiding the confrontation between Troll and
Regent. He comes to a halt, eyes glittering, as he listens to M'giddo's speech,
eyes flickering emotionlessly between the two. Again, his clawed hands click
together.
Horvak
smiles, "Another time, orc. Another time. I am certain the Flame will
appear when we fight, but if you feel that prayer in the temple will be necessary
for you to beg forgiveness for you betrayel of the Flame's will so be it."
Horvak turns to leave.
Huzghash
flicks his gaze off to Durbmog a second before halting his retreat. Able to
keep his eyes upon the pair at all times, Huzghash's body relaxes noticeably
upon the retreat of the troll. This fight apparently avoided.
[<#25526>]
M'giddo grumbles (softly) to himself as the troll leaves. "... ... ... ...
the ... will ... right-... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... will." Then,
louder, at the troll's back, 'Soon, then, we shall go to the Temple, and just
as the Flame made its will known about the Master Shaman, it shall make its
will known about the King.'
Horvak
shambles out of the hall, "Goodbye, my latadurub. Goodbye."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
grunts, glancing at Huzghash. "Well," he murmurs to himself, just
loud enough for the Master Guard to hear -- purposefully, probably --
"What are we to make of that."
Huzghash
shrugs, his eyes turning to regard the Master Scout. "I'm at a loss
myself, Scout. Though I think if the Olog isn't in thefavor of the Flame,
things could turn.....ugly." Huzghash shrugs again, his eyes tracing off
toward Megiddo.
[<#29406>]
"The
entire situation might," Durbmog murmurs, voice deep and low. "Mayhap
you should talk to the Regent, so that we will have ... more information on
which to operate ... in any event. We are, after all, Moria's military. We have
need-to-know."
Huzghash
nods, "I'll do what I can, Master Scout. Whether that accomplishes
anything..well.." The Guard's voice trails off into a shrug, the Guard
again sending his gaze elsewhere.
From
Camp of the Southern Orcs, Dirg'kra glances up to the uruk and grins,
"Where were you warrior?" Standing up and walking towards the Wolf.
"I needed all the clan at the meeting." Her face darkening as she
looks at Shak'kaz
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Let
us ask forthwith, Master Guard," Durbmog murmurs, "If you judge it
best. I trust your judgement, of course."
Huzghash
nods, "So be it." The Guard begins to move across the room once more,
his path taking him towards Megiddo.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
follows silently behind, his flowing black robes swishing softly as he moves.
Watching
as Megiddo quickly escapes over the bridge, Huzghash stops, a chuckle escaping
the Guard. "It seems we will be forced to seek him out. I will send a
messenger to you with what he says, IF I am able to speak with him." Again
the Guard shrugs.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"I
shall gladly come with you," Durbmog offers, voice a deep, booming rumble.
"We cannot show too much solidarity at this time."
Huzghash
nods, "That is well. For now, let us go our seperate paths. There is much
to plan for for the future meetings, and much work to be done." Huzghash
offers the Scout a salute, as he himself turns to leave; chain armour rippling
in a wave-like motion with each step.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog
mirrors Huzghash's salute, and himself turns to go, face expressionless, eyes
bright, calculating, flickering about him with all the lightning rapidity of
one doing complex sums inside his head.