Moria, Slaver Meeting Hall(#21149RntUf)
This room embodies the terrible might of the Slavers of
Moria. A great stone table stands proud, dead center is it placed, with
dimensions that exceed twice the width of the fattest of trolls, and thrice the
length of that monstrous kin. While an assortment of ornately designed and
extremely large wooden chairs lines the table, the largest, and grandest,
serves as a throne for the Slaver master and is reserved at the head of the
table. Candelabras cast of iron are placed by walls that are etched with a
myriad of ancient Dwarven hieroglyphs and modern Orcish inscriptions and
designs, providing a rather dim and eerie light, which only serves to add to
the terrible atmosphere of this strong hold of iniquity.
Two doors branch off from this hall of Slaver malice,
leading deeper into the Slaver strong hold - one to the torture chamber, the
other to the pits. Two passages lead out, and above these gateways is etched
the symbol of the Slavers, a giant silver disk with an unspeakable depiction.
Contents:
Laerecht
Morshakh
Guzlug
Zimbacht
Grok
Urzg
Durbmog
[Ahriman(#32205)] A grunting, yelping sound can be heard
round the corner. Ahriman hobbles inwards, his beady eye following the shadows,
avoiding any source of light. He sniffs the air charismatically, and slobbers a
little. His quick mind computes the situation, and he approaches Durbmog,
demonstrating proud yet submissive body language. Basically he's saying ' you
are in charge' in orc body language.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The Slavers' Meeting Hall is silent -- silent with the
hush of anticipation. Red eyes look eagerly on from the stands and benches off
to the sides -- a throng of orcs watches the makeshift trial area gleefully,
eagerly anticipating the entertainment to come. For today ... today the first
witnesses will be called to testify, called and cross-examined.
One snaga nudges another, grinning slyly as he whispers,
"This'll be good."
His fellow hisses, "Hush! Yes."
Durbmog stands silently in the shadows by the door, every
bit as unmoving as a carven statue. Only the pale glitter of his eyes and the
slow rise and fall of his heavily-armored chest betrays any sign that he is
more than graven stone. Finally the corners of his mouth twitch slowly upward.
The doors of the Slaver meeting hall are thrown ajar,
Huzghash being ushered in. The Talashakh and Master Guard has
his head held proudly up, his chain armour still gracing his body. Yet - The
Uruk's body seems oddly weakened, thin perhaps? Or maybe weary as bags hang
beneath his eyelids. "I come! I come again to face my charges."
Huzghash bellows, his voice belying his weakened state. The Guard's bringing
Huzghash in quickly usher him to his seat and force him to sit down in a chair.
Backing away but two steps the guards stand at the ready.
Ahriman lets his arms hang low, his shackles drooping his stance further. He eyes his fellows
slaves, and snarls loudly. As if to assert his authority over
them. Yet he continues to demonstrate respect towards Durbmog. "I
face my charges, head held high. Pride echoes within me, I may be a slave. But
I am an orc. And thus am proud, punish me not for my convictions." he says
eloquently, through a slightly fanged lisp.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog blinks, eyes flickering towards Ahriman.
"Who precisely are you?" he snaps, pale eyes glittering. Rasped:
"One of the Morghash Chieftain's co-conspirators? I think not. Speak your
name and rank and business, orc."
From his seat, Huzghash's chest heaves as he breathes
slowly - eyes roving the chamber. "Greetings to you,
Warlord." Huzghash says simply, offering Durbmog an extended nod in
turn. Then the Guard's eyes traverse elsewhere passing over
the snaga near Durbmog before roving the crowd. "So, how eager is
this crowd for blood today, I wonder?" Huzghash remarks rhetorically, his
words slightly hushed.
Ahriman holds his head up, and stares at Durbmog, though
without insolence. "I am a lowly slave, my quest... to become free. I am
tired of the shackles that weigh down my progress, my soul. My body yearns to
spout the hellscream! The hellscream that will bring down the
careless elven archer. Bow held dockfied to his body." he says
plaintively, his tongue marauding across his teeth."Let me fight for my
freedom, and I shall wipe the floor with the black blood of my enemy. For I shall be the victor. My head stands high, for although
I am a slave.. let us not
forget I am an orc." he says steadily, his voice unwavering and confident.
He lets his head droop, losing eye contact with Durbmog.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The Warlord takes a sinuous step sideways, grinning like
a shark at Ahriman. "You can be of use to Moria," he declares
piously. "You, a randomly selected snaga, might perhaps be capable of
testifying to the rumors among the snaga about the evil deeds of the Talashakh
Huzghash, now on trial for treason. Yes. I shall expect to hear the most
germane of rumors, snaga, when I call you to the stand. Understand?"
Ahriman nods switly, and snarls at the accused. He eyes
Huzghash, and utters an inner chuckle. This should be easy. He sidles into the
shadowy area, indicated by Durbmog."I understand." he says plainly.
[Gozguk(#13908)] A
black-cloaked uruk pushes his way into the hall. Gozguk manages to make his way
to the front of the crowd, from where he looks on with interest. Red eyes under
his hood take in Huzghash in the dock, and a flicker of something, perhaps even
pity, passes through them. Red tongue slides slowly over his fangs.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Your willingness to serve Moria does you credit, my
good orc," Durbmog declares blithely. He steps out of the shadows,
striding towards the prosecutor's stand. Click. Cl-click.
Iron-shod boots slide softly across the stone floor as the tall Uruk-Hai moves
forward. He removes a parchment from within his robes, coughs theatrically.
"In session."
"On with it then."
Huzghash murmurs from his captive position. The Talashakh's twin crimson eyes
glare as they look around the room - sharp-edged like a knife. Huzghash shifts
slightly, causing his chain armour to rattle and ring. "Very
well then, Warlord. I am present - not by force - by choice. Though I am
sure force would have been used had I not wished to attend." Huzghash
smirks, his yellowed fangs gleaming grotesquely in the heavily torch-lit room.
Ahriman snarls with feverance. "I sir, can tell you
now. Witness my words, I speak freely of the truth. I
do not need to bend the truth, in all its ductile prominence. I need not to
alter the happenings of the past. Nor fill my mouth with twisted words,
abuckled by opression." he says slowly, staring at the accused. He cackles
almost maniacally."He did it..See his ignorance.
See how he mockingly intones your most regarded status. See how he
gleefully...guffaws in arrogance. He is the culprit- the accused. The
killer." he snarls , in one final spout of
verbage. His arms lie low, weighed down by shackles. His wrists do bleed, but
he remains unbendingly loyal.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Good, Chieftain of the Morghash," Durbmog
declares, "because I call you to the stand. We
will address the issue of corruption first."
Studiously Durbmog peers at his parchments.
"Huzghash --" He pauses, glancing over at Ahriman. "Not yet,
snaga!" he calls. "I will _call_ you when it is time to address the
issue of Huzghash's wicked disrespect! Surely it bears upon the enticement to
corruption charge, which is next. Ahem. Huzghash, do you deny taking bribes
from Dugzash?"
"Bribes? From Dugzash a
member...err..Former Shaman of the
[Gozguk(#13908)] Gozguk scowls, not at the accused but at the
accuser. He remains silent, though, listening to the talk that flows back and forth.
[Zimbacht(#31819)] Zimbacht
silently ambles into the hall, to once again watch the proceedings of
court-room drama that is light-years above his head. Quietly he takes his seat
to listen...
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog snorts. "You deny your association with
Dugzash? He put his life on the line, blaspheming Hykhert repeatedly and
insulting the Flame, on your behalf! He is dead for this. Why would he work so
vehemently to aid you if he had no interest vested in you, eh?"
Balgair is one of several members of the crowd who mutter
confusedly at the fancy language.
Ahriman dances a little in the corner, and points.
"He's lying. His words are tainted with flowery elven heritage. He is
nothign but a cur- a quarter breed. He is no true orc. His black blood runs red
with corruption. He shall fall down, like his pillar of lies, with the weakest
stone lying towards the bottom. He is weak, and shall fall. He is no orc,"
he says quietly, so that only the nearest orcs can hear him. He eyes Durbmog
and nods in agreement to whatever he says, play it safe.
[Grok(#19150)]
A loud
clomping of running footsteps can be heard approaching the court and suddenly
Grok appears at the door all out of breath. He silently takes a seat then
mutters, "Snaga just let me know."
"I accepted no bribes, Warlord. What he did is of
his own accord. Not mine." Huzghash states flatly, eyes narrowing on the
Warlord. "If I am to be tried for his crimes then this trial is a farce,
so please, Warlord, do not associate me with *his* actions." Huzghash
halts, his eyes still locked with those of Durbmog. "I accepted no
bribes." Huzghash repeats.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Instantly, Durbmog rejoins, "You deny any
association with Dugzash?"
Balgair has disconnected.
"The charge is corruption, Warlord, not
association." Huzghash retorts quickly.
Ahriman raises his hands above his head, and proclaims
rather more loudly than the last time."Blasphemy.
His words are deformed beyond Justices recognition. He is a harper- a lying
gutter snipe. He dances round the master with his insulting words, he is
mocking him. And mockery should not be stood for. Farce?
this is no farce. Lest truth,
justice and honour are all farces. He is corrupt, like the warg born of
the mother wolf. Kill him, chuck him to the flames. Kill him." he snarls,
again only the orcs near him can probably hear. He snarls again, tongue running
over his teeth,
Huzghash's ears perk, his head turning to face the snaga,
"Justice? hah! Honor? Hah! Truth! Bah! Truth
shall never come of this trial snaga."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"So you associated with Dugzash!" Durbmog booms
triumphantly. "You schemed and plotted with him! Hear the cries in the
crowd? Your veneer of innocent posturing fools none!" He waves a hand.
"We'll come back to corruption. Whom have *you* enticed personally to
corruption through bribery?"
"Do no rush over my charges, Warlord. I spoke with
Dugzash as he did with any other Shaman, I sought cleansing. *That*, Warlord,
is no crime." Huzghash pauses, listening to the Warlord's next charge.
"I bribed noone. I never offered money in return for a service granted me.
I did not offer bribes." Huzghash pauses again, his eyes narrowing
slightly. "I am sure the disgruntled members of my tribe can tell you of
how much I paid them as it was. Not a cent, Warlord. The money was used to
purchase weapons and armour. Nothing more."
[Gozguk(#13908)]
Gozguk seems barely able to contain his anger, as if he might explode in
words at any moment.
Ahriman snarls at the accused. "I may be a snaga,
but that would rank me higher than a treacherous Uruk. You lace your verse with
the hazy silken wool of corruption. Why? Because you are the
cuprit. You have already lost- but scum, fall with honour. Fall like the
snaga who runs into battle armed with nothing but his will to fight. He dies
honorably, and that is what matter. Preserve your soul, galvanise your mind.
Keep yourself as loyal as you can. Even though your soul is
already tainted with the corruption. The corruption of the three enemies
of Moria." he says, running out of breath. He inhales deeply, and snarls
in an authorative manner at the accused.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog lowers his parchment, smiling faintly. "We
shall enter a stage of intermission," he declares, "so that observers
in the court may comment and converse with the Chieftain of the Morghash."
[Zaajuk(#15135)]
Zaajuk enters
the hall slowly, his wide eyes flashing as he looks about him, taking stock of
the situation. His bristly ears catch Ahriman's speech, and he gives a sneering
little smile, flashing his teeth. He stands near the back of the Hall watching
the proceedings with some interest.
"Whatt is this babble?" Huzghash exhasparates,
his hand coming to grips with his face. "Someone gag that snaga and throw
him back down to the pits where he belongs! Three enemies of Moria! How little
you truly know shows now, idiot!" Huzghash spits, his eyes glaring at
Ahriman. "You know little of me, snaga. Save what you were told to say
before this trial. I put little stock in the future of puppets."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] Zimbacht
blinks several times as words fly back and forth between the Warlord, the
Master Guardsman and a mildly insane snaga who seems to be just begging for
someone on either side to hit him hard with whatevers handy just to shut him
up. For the time it won't be him though, at least until someone else takes the
first step or issues a command - matters are touchy as it is. Even Zimbacht can
see that. For now he just sits and watches....
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Now, now," Durbmog sneers, "who would
instruct an orc to accuse you in such ... a wordy fashion?
"honor"? "galvanize"? Let
me see. I am not completely certain what the latter means myself."
[Ahriman(#32205)] A crippled
snarga suddenly turns on Ahriman, and tries to bring him to the ground. Where he will surely die. However Ahriman batters the fierce
creature with his shackles. It lies still, most likely
dead. He snarls, and withdraws a dagger from his robes. He slices open the
corpse, an pulls out a hunk of flesh. Dinner is served,
and other snagas join him for the feast.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The guards in the courtroom flow into motion, tearing
whips from their belts. "Order," they snarl. "Order,
order!" *CRACK!* -- *WH-CRACK!*
Huzghash merely tosses a sidelong glance to Durbmog, his
intentions readily apparent in his eyes. Turning back to Ahriman Huzghash
scowls, "Now he murdrs an Uruk in open court!
Look at this fool!" huzghash cackles with glee, his crimson eyes burning
with delight.
Ahriman scrambles out of the way of the whips, but keeps
clear so he can voice his opinion. "Uruk? He was
but a snarga. Corrupted by your words. You dare to
make mockery of those above you, and now show your weakness by accussing a
snaga of killing a cripple?" he asks with plaintive frivality.
You paged Vinyarod with 'Shoot'.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"One might almost suspect a set-up," Durbmog
declares placidly, directly a sidelong glance at Huzghash. "Indeed, one
might. Clean up the blood. Court is in intermission for a space of time."
He steps down from the stand, starts towards the door.
Guzlug
enters, blinking at the odd
scene before him. A mad snaga seems to be eating another in the room, a feast.
Taking in all, his eyes twitch to all corners, ildly
scratching a sore on his chin and walks a little closer.
[Zaajuk(#15135)]
Zaajuk makes
his way slowly through the crowd, on an intercept course to Durbmog. His eyes
remain just downcast enough so as not to look any Orc in the eye. Though the
crowd is dense and energetic, the snaga is slight and in no hurry. He manages
to make his way slowly towards the Warlord, his face twisted into an ugly sneer
by his proximity to so many of his less 'refined' brethren.
Ahriman sniffs the air, and nods in agreement. His one
eyes crazed with passion, blackened by the blood of his kill, and his own
madness. He eyes the accused, and wipes the spit from his brow. He scuttles
into a corner, and keeps his eyes open.
Huzghash laughs, his hearty bellow rumbling in the hall.
"You are not but a snaga yourself, fool! Do not presuppose to raise you
status above those who have rightfully earned it!" Huzghash chuckles
again, though his laugh carries with it a harsh bite.
Thr uruks present in the hall mill about in a constant
roar of sound. Some shouts are continually directed at Huzghash, others - the
Warlord. Some shouts are directed at none in particular. Uruks leave the
chamber hastily, rushing for food and drink before the trial resumes.
Ahriman squirms uncomfortably, watching the warlord.
Fearing he make turn on him. He cowers, and lurks in the shadows, his small
frame a grey sillouette.
[Grok(#19150)]
Grok looks
about the crowd as there is an intermission and walks over to Guzlog.
"Hammerer you think about my offer?"
[<#13908>]
Gozguk pushes through the crowd, and steps up before the dock. A noisy
whisper is thrown upwards towards Huzghash: "Master Talashakh, I have
news: the Latadurub ordered Khamuz killed, but he himself was killed by the
Scout before action could be taken. And the Warlord is a great friend of
Khamuz; I distrust both of them." He glances around, but cannot speak more
before a guard notices him and pushes him away into the crowd angrily.
Ahriman emits an odd clicking sound. He moves before
Huzghash and eyes him with inquisitive eyes, he then darts back to his former
place. In a dank corner, lying on hard stone."Liar..."
he mutters.
[Guzlug(#31676)] %rThrough the
general commotion, Guzlug gets the general impression that something is about
to happen. About to duck out, he spies the gatherer, Grok and smiles his toothy
grin; "Hah! Its you. About that
offer? Remind me again of what we spoke?"
Huzghash smirks, his fangs showing proudly. "Khamuz
can be trusted, Gozguk. He shall be your new Talashakh soon enough I suppose. I
instructed Khamuz to badmouth me and do what he could to win Durbmog's
trust." Huzghash pauses, his eyes flashing, "Though his killing of
Z'macht presents an interesting opportunity. Bring Khamuz to my cell as soon as
you can! There is much to be done."
[Grok(#19150)]
Grok smiles at
the hammerer, "Me trade you my bumpy leather
jacket and a big yellow coin for jacket made of many metal rings. That what the offer was. You say you want to think on
it."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] Thinking of taking advantage of the
'recess' Zimbacht scans the room for a familiar face, however - he only finds
Grok, who is already wrapped in a conversation with a Hammerer. Remembering the
fish that Grok had given him earlier, he reaches inside his pocket and begins
eating away merrily - suddenly oblivious to the entire world around him for a
short time.
[Gozguk(#13908)] Gozguk throws a nod to Huzghash, before pushing
away through the crowd. He still seems very angry, and watches proceeding from
the back of the hall.
[Guzlug(#31676)] Arms crossed,
big, clawed hands grip his corded muscle tightly; "Yes? That was the
offer. Though I remember you offering some other trinket
along with that jacket when last we spoke. Piggyskin and
.... something .. and
something." Smiling at the Grok.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
The Warlord strides back into the chamber, an odd smile
playing its way across his lips. He moves back up to the stand. "Court in
session once more. Huzghash, I have some rather particular questions I'd like
you to answer."
[Grok(#19150)]
Grok smiles,
"Me bumpy leather jacket for jacket of shiney rings and me give you a big
yellow coin to."
Huzghash merely nods, resuming his seat and straightening
his posture ever so slightly. "Then I shall answer them, Warlord."
Huzghash grunts, his eyes staring hard back at Durbmog.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Durbmog smiles benignly. "You
have confessed to high treason to the King. Is this not correct?"
"If trying to better serve the Gothshaka by
furthering the will of Hykhert is treason, then I
did." Huzghash responds quickly.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"You pleaded guilty as charged," Durbmog
declares severely. "Are you retracting a charge? Are you, perhaps,
suggesting that you have lied to the court?"
Guzlugs eyes rove over Grok as he makes his offer;
"Yes, I forgot. Well thats enough for what yer
want. Come see me after this. I'll sort you out with what yer want, make you
tough uruk."
"I did not retract the plea, Warlord. Merely stating my reasons." Huzghash does not allow his
face to betray emotion now, his crimson eyes staring
calmly back at Durbmog.
[Grok(#19150)]
Grok silently
turns and takes a seat putting off his trading until later and listens intently
to the happenings in the trial of the Morghash Talashakh.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"And did you rush into your treason without so much as a thought?" Durbmog's countenance is stony,
severe. "Was your act of high treason unplanned and random?"
"Did I know my act would be considered treason? No,
Warlord I did not." Huzghash responds.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"So you rushed into your treasonous acts without
even speculating on the possible consequences," sneers the Warlord.
"This hardly shows deep-seated respect for Hykhert, an orc known for
wisdom and patience, eh? So you rushed thoughtlessly and impulsively into acts
of wickedness, not even pausing to attempt to evaluate the morality of your
conduct?"
Huzghash sighs, his head shaking. "Warlord, my
actions were made only to better serve the Flame and Gothshaka, and in turn his
servants. My actions were the wish of Master Shaman Hykhert, before the
blasphemer Nin and Chuok slew him. Though you would deny he wished as such, but
then, he did not speak his wishes to you."
=============================================================================
Piler
Laerecht
Balrog
Morshakh
Chiayk
Garj
Zurku
Zaajuk
Guzlug
Gozguk
Huzghash
Zimbacht
Durbmog
Grok
=============================================================================
(Fourteen Morians connected.)
[Morian Connect Object(#22691)->]
>>>>>> Chiayk has disconnected. [Moria
Zone.] <<<<<<
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"So," Durbmog declares,
eyes bright, "you claim that Hykhert is dead. Against the Flame's
intentions as expressed by the Baneguard, which were to heal Hykhert! Do you
intend to imply that the Flame is incapable of returning Hykhert from the brink
of death? Do you blaspheme the Flame?"
The Warlord presses on, gesturing at Huzghash with a
glittering claw. "Not only that, but -- as Khamuz of Morghash can be
called forth to attest, aye, and shall be -- Hykhert said that no order of
Zealots would be formed! He spoke these words whilst under assault by the
self-declared Zealot Nin! Nin, whose heretical teacher Dugzash you sought for
wisdom when preparing to blasphemously attempt to insult the Flame by
attempting to refound the Zealots! Now you blaspheme Hykhert's will in this
matter as well!"
A sneering pause. "And you
attempt to imply that the prosecutor will speak untruths in court. Do you show
contempt for the court ordained according to the laws of Moria?"
Huzghash snorts, eyes narrowing upon Durbmog. "When
the Flame returns breath to Hykhert's lungs then I shall have my vindication,
Warlord. For he shall prove that my words are true.
Until such time I suggest this charge be drop for lack of proper
evidence." Huzghash snorts again, mucus shooting from his nose.
"I have never blasphemed the Flame, Warlord! Nor shall I ever. The Flame will bring Hykhert back to life
in time, of that we may be certain." Huzghash shifts in his seat, his eyes
betraying his anger. "Hykhert proclaimed that no order of Zealots would be
made with Nin at its head, or as a member. Again, however, this can only be proved
or disproved with the Master Shaman's own words." Huzghash shrugs,
continuing. "And Is how no contempt for this
court, My Warlord. For as the snaga spoke earlier: it is just, honourable, and
truthful."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog smiles faintly. "I witnessed Hykhert's
words. Khamuz witnessed Hykhert's words. You, on the other hand, were
_conspicuous by your absence_." A light chuckle.
"So. Huzghash, do you deny
that you intended to commit the acts of which you were arraigned for high
treason prior to committing them? Do not dodge the question by pleading
ignorance of right and wrong."
"Then do not misconstrue my doing my duty for the
Flame, as purposeful absence from Hykhert's death. Had I been present I would
have killed Chuok and Nin with my barehands had I only had them as weapons.
Never would they have escaped my wrath!" Huzghash bellows his fist
poudning furiously against the wooden railing before him. Rising with a start,
Huzghash visibly angers. "If my actions are to be construed as treason, then
so be it, Warlord. Yet, they cannot be proven without *Hykhert's* ultimate
say!" Huzghash declares, "May the Flame bring him to life soon."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"You evade the question!" Durbmog roars,
bringing his fist down onto his stand with a heavy thump. "Did you
premeditate your acts?"
[Guzlug(#31676)] Few of the
snaga which were still present, now skitter across the floor away from the
warlord and the accused, whimpering.
"I though on it for a long time,
Warlord." Huzghash bellows in turn, his fist pounding again.
"Yet, you can prove nothing without the word of Hykhert! Of which we do
not have again, yet!" Huzghash declares, eyes flashing at the Warlord. "Warlord...my dear Warlord." Huzghash says, his
voice growing softer, yet still firm. "I shall present proof now that even
your word against mine is of little value in this charge."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"I will ask the questions," Durbmog sneers.
"So, you premeditated your high treason. Now, is not high treason treason
against the hierarchy of Moria? Is this not the definition of high
treason?"
"No Warlord. I shall present proof in my own defense
as I am allowed. Though I will oblige by answering your
question first." Huzghash pauses, his eyes flashing again.
"High-treason is against the hierarchy of Moria, yes." Huzghash
pauses, his eyes flaring bright. "Now I shall present eveidence to dispute
the validity of your own words in this charge and case."
[Gozguk(#13908)] At this new turn of events Gozguk perks up,
listening with even greater concentration to the two, especially Huzghash.,
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"You are _my_ witness at present," Durbmog
purrs. "Now, is not the hierarchy embodied in the King?"
"And the Flame, Warlord. Do
not forget the Flame in the hierarchy of things." Huzghash chortles, his
eyes dancing with some unforseen delight.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Please enumerate, then, those above you in the
Hierarchy," Durbmog murmurs, "for treason against the hierarchy is
treason to the leaders of the hierarchy."
[Grok(#19150)] A murmer goes throughout the gathred uruks
and grows louder, "Let the Mroghash Talashakh speak in his own
defence."
"My fellow Talashakhs, whom are my
equals." Huzghash states flatly, "Then you, Warlord. Then the Latadurub. Then the Master
Shaman. Then Gothshaka Horvak. Then the Flame
rests atop this hierarchy, it's will dominating us
all."
[Guzlug(#31676)] As the murmurs
gain in volume, a few can be heard shouting down those asking for the
Talashakhs defence.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"May I safely presume, then," Durbmog hisses,
smiling, "that by your own confession of high treason you confess treason
to all those whom you have enumerated? The Talashakhs, the
Warlord, the Latadurub, the Master Shaman, the Gothshaka, and the Demon
Below?"
"Yes, though I still hold my time to dispute this
charge upon Hykhert's return to the mines of Moria, Warlord." Huzghash
retorts. "Now does that settle it so that I may have my go?" Huzghash
smirks wildly, his teeth glistening orange in the fire-light.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog smirks. "But I'm not done. Do you consider
treason against the Flame to comprise blasphemy?"
"You speak true, Warlord. Though again, my treason
shall be disproven upon Hykhert's return, therefore this charge is null until
such time as Hykhert can dispute this either way." Huzghash sneers, his
upper lip coiling like a snake prepared to strike.
[Gozguk(#13908)] Gozguk disappears into the crowd, and only a
faint rippling of the heads shows his path to and out the door.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog shakes his head. "Ah-ah.
I think not. You confessed to high treason -- confessed. Unless you gave a
false plea, which is _in itself_ treasonable, you are guilty of high treason by
your own admission. High treason is treason against the Flame. You agree with
me that treason against the Flame is blasphemy. You have confessed to it."
Huzghash continues his snake-like sneer. "Now I
shall have my say, Warlord." Huzghash words are sharp, biting.
"Hykhert is the only one who can verify your claim. You, even now, merely
skim over the might and authority of the Master Shaman's words. Words which you do not control!" Huzghash pounds his
fist again, eyes flaring.
"Do you deign to rule as Master Shaman and Warlord,
Durbmog? Or even continue your biased charade as Warlord while you still hold a
tribal rank?" Huzghash pauses, turning to the audience. "Warlord, the
position of Warlord is to be unbiased, objective, for he rules over the might
of both tribes! He is not be a Shakh in one, therefore
placing his biases against another!" Huzghash pounds his fist for
emphasis.
"Lastly, my Warlord. Is it
not true that you also bypassed the hierarchy of Moria when you attempted to
ascend to the position of Moria? AH, but it is, Warlord! You bypassed the
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog throws back his head and LAUGHS. His laughter
echoes off the walls; his laughter rumbles like stones sliding into a pit; his
laughter dies down to a stabbing sound like knives. "This," he
cackles, "from an orc who just confessed to ... blasphemy against the
Flame! You pled guilty to high treason! You have admitted in open court that
high treason is treason against the Demon and all of its officers! You have
admitted that treason against the Demon is blasphemy against the Flame!" A rolling laugh. "Must this court listen to your
absurdities any longer? The prosecution declares all lesser charges you have
not yet pled guilty to subsumed by the greater that you *have* confessed to!
Therefore, there is no further defense to be made on your part. You will await
the King's judgement with regard to how you shall be punished for your
self-confessed crimes of High Treason and Blasphemy Against
the Flame."
[Laerecht(#23460)] The beastly
steps of the Boss ob Ghashobazog echo faintly as they preceede the same's
entrance into the crowded courtroom. Calculative eyes rove those assembled from
their rather high vantage point, minute sqints and widenings of the orbs
telling of the large uruk's favor or lack therof.
Squeaking leather heralds Laerecht's right
hands methodical adjustment of the pronged steel upon his handless left.
Finally crossing both meaty appendages, the overlarge Morian lowers his
topknotted cranium to bear the meticulous eyes therin upon the seated figure of
the accused.
"How go the
proceedings, Warlord" ,booms the huge Morian.
"Evade my words as you will, Warlord. The truth has
confronted you, and you are too weak to fight it. For you know you are
guilty." Huzghash smirks, ignoring the Warlord's words. "The uruks
present have heard both your words and mine, let them decide amongst themselves
whether to believe a biased Warlord. Warlord, warlord,
warlord." Huzghash's tongue clicks, his eyes mocking. "I face
my punishment proudly Warlord. And hence I go to wait in my cell for the
Gothshaka's decree to be made." Huzghash rises, moving for his Guard and
the door. "Oh, and Warlord!" Huzghash calls
back as he and his Guard's move swiftly through the crowds for the exit.
"If I am a traitor and blasphemer, Warlord, then let your reputation be
sullied. For I convinced Hykhert to give you a second chance, your life, and
rank were saved by a traitor and blasphemer! By your own
words!" Huzghash cackles wickedly, one of his Guard's
smashing him over the head with a sap and knocking him unconcious. The
Talashakh's body is quickly dragged for the jails, a gaggle of uruks in tow.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"It is good to see that you continue to admit to
your treason and blasphemy," Durbmog observes mildly. "Well. Since
the convict's lies about me address none of the charges he has confessed to, I
need not add the charge of perjury to the indictment. If any are unconvinced by
Huzghash's public confession of blasphemy -- by his publicly labelling himself
a traitor and blasphemer -- then they are blind and deaf."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog descends from the stand, smiling benignly.
"If any would care to attempt to corroborate the self-confessed
blasphemer's charge against me," he booms, voice ringing, "I would be
_most grateful_."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] Zimbacht
rises from his seat and begins to leave before spying the Ghashobazog
Talashakh. A broad grin crosses his face as he sees his tribal leader well for
the first time in a long time. Rushing over to him Zimbacht bows his head and
lowers his voice in reverence. "Ghashobazog big boss... you better now?
Zimbacht think you look better... but that not mean you are better. Zimbacht no healer - still, good to see you looking better!"
[Laerecht(#23460)] A rumbling chuckle ripples Laerecht's
thick lips as he watches the return of the accused to his cell.
"Warlord..
Please tell me you jest? The Morghash's words are as twisted as a breed
wench."
A slight nod toward the hai,
and the Boss turns to regard the kneeling Zimbacht with a hearty laugh.
"Up, up, loyal
Ghashobazog! Indeed Laerecht has seen worse days." A slight
downturn of the large Morian's slithering lips announces his displeasure as he
idly strokes the makeshift hand upon his left arm. Straightening once more,
Laerecht's roving eyes turn to the great hammer atop the uruk's back. Another slight chuckle.
"Tell me, Zimbacht..
Do you know that tool well enough to face the Thrugu when the time comes?"
The pronged iron ending the Talashakh's left arm points accusingly at the war
hammer perched therin as his right idly perches atop his own.
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"Where there's smoke," the Warlord declares
cryptically, "There also is fire. Be on your guard for anyone who might
sympathize with the blasphemer-traitor. Anyone who defends a self-confessed
blasphemer is obviously in sympathy with blasphemy and should be treated
accordingly."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] "Use
smasher...?" replies Zimbacht, trying to think, to evaluate his own skill
"...me smash good. Zimbacht strong, swing hard. Zimbacht like to smash. Me no know what pointy things are for - Zimbacht think maybe
for cleaning meat from teeth after good meal." He pauses, before realizing
that the weapon in Laerecht's hand is also a 'smasher' "Hey - you have
smasher like Zimbacht's! Maybe you know what pointy thingies for."
[Laerecht(#23460)] "Naturally, Warlord. Any in league with Huzghash shall
be dealt with accordingly."
"Now,
Zimbacht. Draw and show your master a proper feint upon yonder
chair."
Grabbing a nearby candleabra, the large Boss
plants the source of light upon the designated seat, it's
oozing wax already anchoring it to the rickety wood.
"Feint left, strike right."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] Zimbacht is quick to draw the 'smasher'
from it's sling on his back, but as Laerecht gives his instructions his
expression goes from that of an eager pupil (or eager to smash) to one of
confusion. "Feint?" he replies, his voice filled with his evident
confusion "What is feint. Zimbacht no know word."
[Durbmog(#29406)]
"I declare this court adjourned," the Warlord
booms. "Let those present be dismissed. We shall reconvene at a time the
King appoints, and there shall the King name the penalty for Huzghash's openly
confessed blasphemy against the Demon, high treason, and the multitudes of
other crimes of which he is guilty."
[Laerecht(#23460)]
"Fake." Simply said, the large Talashakh crosses his arms once more,
calculative eyes focusing in upon student and candelabra.
"Show me."
Guzlug approaches the warlord, nodding in accordance with
law and waits for him below the dais; "There seem to be none still present
who support the Morghash Talashakh. Yet within the crowd there were cries in
his defence." Taking a glance round the uruks still present; "None
left now." He waits a moment fo the warlord's
attention; "Can I speak with you, warlord?"
[Durbmog(#29406)]
Durbmog moves slowly towards the edge of the chamber. "Very well. Come this way, orc."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] "Fake?" replies Zimbacht
"You mean fake swinging smasher, then swing smasher. That
no make sense to Zimbacht. Why fake using smasher when you can smash
using smasher. Is that not reason to use smasher?" He shrugs
"Zimbacht no know though. You the boss!"
With that Zimbacht steps towards the chair and begins his
'fake' swing, one which comes from his right side and despite his instructors intentions knocks the candelabra clear off that
chair. Zimbacht stops about three-quarters ot the way through the swing,
switches grips and swings a 'full' swing this time, all his short bodry weight
sent behind a careening war hammer that is only moderately controlled by his hands.
"Zimbacht smash!" he exclaims through each stroke, and then at then
end "There - Zimbacht not swing all the way on first swing. Fake
right?"
[Laerecht(#23460)] Grumbling
something along the lines of thickheaded uruk, Laerecht produces his own forge
hammer with his right hand. Replacing the mangled candelabra with a second, the
Boss deftly swings the weapon backhanded at the torch, jerking it up just
before contact, and then back down toward the left, perfectly smashing and
severing the farthest left candelabra.
"Like so! The feint is extremely
important in battle, Ghashobazog. You would do well to heed me should you ever
face the pathetic light-lovers."
[Zimbacht(#31819)] "Hmm... so Zimbacht do wrong."
replies Zimbacht scratching his head, trying to figure out his instructors
exact movements "Try again." he says finally, taking a third
candelabra and placing it on the chair. Standing back he swings in back-handed,
bringing the hammer to a screeching halt so as to lead into an upswing (which
only disturbs the candelabra thankfully). However, as he reaches the top of the
upswing, instinct wrests control of Zimbacht from his councious self, and with
the full weight of his considerable might he brings down the war hammer towards
his target. "Zimbacht SMASH!" he exclaims as he drives the hammer
home, crushing the candelabra and the chair beneath it. Seeing the
unintentional destruction he shrugs slightly "Maybe Zimbacht smash too much?"
[Laerecht(#23460)] Unable to help from chuckling, Laerecht
masks his momentary mirth behind the cover of his metalic hand.
"Good, for now. However.
I wish you to practice the move I tought you day and night. When you do not
practice, you recruit. Our tribe grows rapidly, and more snaga are needed to
repair the commons.. Send out the word, that the
Ghashobazog Boss is generous. Direct any and all wishing to join
and call themselves likewise to a Cobug or higher." Ruffling the
tuft of hair beneath his chin, the large Talashakh continues..
"Yes. That is your primary task, Cobug."
The last word is overemphasiszed to further
stress it's meaning.
[Zimbacht(#31819)] "Zimbacht always say join Ghasobazog." replies Zimbacht, carrying on as if ignoring the emphasis " Tell everyone how great Ghashobazog is. How great Ghashobazog boss is. Tell them to go see Ghashobazog boss... or almost Ghashobazog boss if they no find....