Eregion, Hollin Ridge

Here is a low ridge crowned with ancient holly trees, whose trunks seem to have been built out of the very stone of the hills. The berries of the trees seem to glow red in the light. The Misty Mountains slash up into the sky to the east and to south, and they continue to run towards the southwest. This high range is dominated by three awesome peaks; the tallest and nearest, Redhorn, is tipped with snow. Its sides are bare and hidden in shadow, and where the sunlight hits it, it glows red. The two furthest peaks, Silvertine and Cloudyhead, also hint of danger, but not as overtly as their big brother. Every so often the cries of birds issue through the air.

Contents:

Chukk

M'giddo

Morian Encampment

Obvious exits:

SouthWest and Northeast

 

 

 

Chukk sits on a rock outside the camp. He holds a scrap of armor that he's looking over intently.

 

Chukk studies the bit of armor in his hand. It's nothing large enough to wear, but there's a a bit of a joint that he's looking at.

 

 

 Housed high, high above in a lap of holly boughs, a great owl slowly builds its tenorred threnody. Hill crickets fiddle, and every so often the thinning air pets the green-leaved walls of snoozing squirrel coisters. Camp fires quenched, and perimiter torches doused, only the rumour of heavy boots hints that a great host of orcs stay near; boot thumps, and the smell...

       Bozblot, miniature by uruk standards, strolls the outer camp with an air of leisurly melancholy. His steps are short, and slow between, and he gnaws at a bit of jerkied meat. The small orc happens upon Chukk and Chukk's log. Bozblot stops his feet, but not his chewing, and admires the bit of glinting metal in the strange orc's lap... "'Cha got der?" mouths the jailer through his jerky.

 

 

Chukk looks up at the question and raises a bushy brow at the jailer. He looks down at the bit of armor, then back up to the jailer. "Got a bit of armor....some bendy part, ya know?" He holds it up a moment "Seein' how it works" He flexes the joint bit a few times "Gonna learn howta makem."

 

Bozblot waddles up and flops his rear down on the log beside Chukk. He clamps the meat between his molars, and gives it a healthy tug, then puts it back in his mouth, and holds it with his teeth for the time being. The small orc gestures both his hands to Chukk, palms up.

 

Chukk squints an eye and peers at Bozblot and his hands "Whatcha want?"

 

 One hand reaches forward and taps on the armor, then both hands Bozblot rakes towards his lap with his fingers curled. He gnaws a bit at the jerky, but says nothing.

 

Chukkhands off the bit of armor. "Just gotta give it back." he says pointing at the jailor. And then he watches the other orc closely.

 

Bozblot twists and turns the mallable joint, holding it high to recieve the moon's light. He holds it still, just long enough to concentrate a good grinding of jerky, then sets it in his lap. Bozblot flutters the metal at its crease, back and forth, back and forth. The small or shrugs, and frisbees the armor back in Chukk's lap.

 

A hissed, "Shaddup runt!" preludes the entrance of a minute wad of orc, skidding helplessly across a smattering of leaves upon the forest floor. After a moment spent rolling about dazedly, the tiny uruk pushes himself to a pair of shaky knees. Malaerc trys his best to peer about from under a thick tussle of black, matted hair, but only ends up losing his feeble balance to land with a sound *thud* on the perch of a pair of Morians discussing armor. Gasping noisily for his deprived breath, the runt-orc moves to a more comfortable position on the log while hefting a stuby arm to brush the entanglement hampering his vision.

 

Chukk scoops up the armor bit again and checks it over to make sure it's till ok "Gotta lern ta make dis stuff....lern da hammer and the metal. Be a -great- smith.."<

 

Bozblot only rakes the meatstrip through his back teeth, his fist tight around its slack. With a quick jab in front of him, and some gyrating of his forarm, Bozblot produces a second and third length of jerky from within his free hand's sleeve. He chews some more, and admires the armor joint some more.. the extra snacks he offers to Chukk, and the orc that's pounced on their log.

 

Chukk makes a quick grab for the meat, just in case the other orc tries to grab them both, or the jailor takes it back. He starts to gnaw in it immediately. "Whachu do?" he mutters through the chewing.

Hardly worth notice to the undiscerning eye, one of the tent flaps is cast aside to allow the exit of a hunched and skinny snaga. He stops just outside, snarling at Yellow Face, and as his eyes adjust, he looks for any sign of excitement.

 

 "Oooohh, I makes the 'inquiries' around here," chirps the better dressed of the two runts. He smiles as Chukk seemingly enjoys his jerky, and gnaws at his own bit in unison with him... 'Ut'Chu do?" asks bozblot, jutting a thumb at the other runt.

 

The hunk of meat disappears mere seconds after Chukk makes for his own portion. Through a spray of half-masticated food chunks, and a quite confused look on his scrunchy visage, the tiny orc replys breathily, "Ma lookins fah workins fah ma handses likens they tells ma too..." Malaerc's tunnel vision trails off to follow the skinny orc slinking out of one of the encampment's many tents.

His attention recovered, the small Morian remembers to finish his half eaten jerky.

 

On a log, but not the same log that the other orcs are perched on, C'zoth's head is rested upon. He seems to be unconcious, or maybe he is dead. You are not sure. Just whciousness, and groans slightly and changes position, now fully awake, and the pain keeps him from falling asleep again. He rolls over and croaks out to the nearby orcs weakly, "Water, anyone? Got any water I could have?" He gropes around feebly for a moment with one blood-encrusted hand, then flops it on the ground, exhausted even from that simple movement.

 

There is a quiet rustle as a the dark night is obstructed by a darker figure stepping out of a tent. The only things visible on him are the gleam of weapons and armor, caught against the sliver of moonlight. "Tell me.." he mutters. "Have any of you seen the king?"

 

Chukk chuckles. "King?? Der no King here...not here not nowheresaround here." he looks at Boz "You see da king?"

His sight having grown reasonably accustomed to the pre-dawn light, Tazglok starts toward a cluster of his fellow orcs on a nearby log. As he strides over, not watching his step, he stumbles over C'zoth's resting form, and crumples to the ground pathetically, stumbling several yards further in his fall. He lies face-down halfway between his target and his stumbling-block, cursing mildly and slapping the ground in frustration.

 

Just as C'zoth is going back to sleep again, his query unnoticed, he is rudely awakened. Another orc, a snaga, has stumbled over him, and he wakes with a start. He curses loudly, and despite his near-death state, he fumbles for his scimitar handle, and attempts to draw it, but he cannot draw the blade. Frustrated, he draws a short knife and begins to pathetically crawl toward s the other orc to attempt to get at him. He stops after a few feet, utterly exhausted, and his face slaps into the dirt, where again he falls into dark dreamless sleep.

 

 

*WOLF STUFF STARTS HERE*

 

 

      A hush wraps up all the hillside's nocturnal croakings and chirpings and holly-leaf chimings, and holds the land fast in one muting fistfull. Bozblot sucks in a quick half-breath and holds it, while his widening glower stabs at either side. The jailor takes his paw from his jerky and points up a forfinger in front of the other uruks... he listens...

       A long and low and lonesome howl reverberates from the south and through all the camp. Bozblot draws in the rest of his breath, and holds it still... his underlip tucked away, and his eyes now enormous and blackest black...

       An anwser comes, from the north, this one higher and more piercing. The beastial trumpeting rolls over its own horrible melody as more howls join the chorus... Bozblot rolls off of his seat, and onto the ground. His scimitar is readied before he sits up to peek over the log, his snack discarded somewhere in the undergrowth... 'Chu hears that? Wulvzzz.. many. Like 'eatsmacheens.." narrarates the runt to the party. His head snaps back to the north, "who has a bow, WHO has a BOW?"

 

Chukk blinks "Whatchu talkin' 'bout? Wulfeseses? I ain't got no bow...jus me hammer. Whatchu got? "

 

Fenzokh steps forward, the metallic clink of armor and weapons breaking the cold, wet, early morning. "Bow?" he mutters. "How many wolves? Many times bows are not as good as common sense. Go get on of the tie-down nets from on top of one of the wagons." he mutters to Bozblot. His head snaps to C'zoth. "You are hurt." he mutters. "Can you run?"

 

 "Whatever lil'boz has, t'aint no bow." whispers Bozblot, as he steps up on the log. Still crouched, he scans the forrest's border till he hears Fenzokh. His iron-shod shoes snapping of long lengths of bark from his log-perch, Bozblot turns to the wagons... "The NETS! of 'course.. Flame bless you and your frilly skirts ambassador!" chrips the jailer, as he dives from the log and makes for the ale wagons.

 

C'zoth hears his name addressed, and snaps out of his doze, and attempts to look back at the person who had talked to him. He spits up a little blood, then rolls onto his side. "Me? Run? Uh.....I do not think so.....I am not even sure I can walk....." He slaps the dirt in frustration. "If anything happens, such as wolves attacking us, I am doomed to the grave." He ends solemnly, then rolls back onto his face.

Tazglok stands, dejectedly shaking the forest debris from his rags, and starts toward Bozblot and Chukk once more. The camp begins to liven as news of the wolves spreads, and Tazglok is lost in a sea of activity.

 

Chukkgnaws on that jerky some more and glances up at the approaching orc. He looks over at Boz and looks over at Taz and looks on suspciously.

 

Fenzokh kneels by C'zoth. "Stop your whining. You can prevent this disaster." he looks up again. He sees that Bozblot, among others, are hauling the heavy tie-down nets closer. "Here's the plan. Wolves can smell blood." He stares at Chukk and Tazglok. "You two!" he cries. "Come closer." He then bends over C'zoth, carefully removing his bloody bandages.

The seemingly infinitely distracted features of Malaerc sober up almost instantly at the words of the scimitar wielding uruk now crouching near his feet. Rolling off of the log languidly, the tiny orc produces a blade of the same likeness, presuming a position hunched next to the jerky Morian.

 Accentuated whispers pour noisily from the small uruk's mouth, even as his side is abandoned by the one called Boz? Raising a thick arm, Malaerc runs almost at a crouch as his comical legs churn speedily intending to follow the retreating form of one not too unlike to his own. "Waitsin fah ma, Bozis, waitsin fah ma?"

 

 Returning, albeit much slower than his pace /to/ the wagons, Bozblot plods back towards the party at the log. His short steps hampered by the sheer mass of the cargo net behind him, Bozblot yanks the web of cave-hemp free from a snag. "Wulvzz lil' fellow, wulvzzz.. Not being setted upon and gobbled up when we're out in smaller parties.. that's prize enough eh? Helps me with the netting," Bozblot irks to the other runt.

 

Cowed into submission, as always, Tazglok, the snaga, the downtrodden, trots to Fenzokh's aide. He stares at the larger orc's stomach and awaits the inevitable command.

 

 

Chukk hefts himself to his feet and picks up his weapon that's nearby. He begins to swagger over to Fenzokh "Yea? Whatcha want from me?"

 

Fenzokh looks down at Chukk and Tazglok, a handful of bloody bandages in each vice-like paw. He smiles slightly. "I think you know already." he mutters, draping the bloodied bandages around each snaga's neck. "Bait." he says simply, staring at each in turn. He bends down and ties new bandages tightly around C'zoth's wounds before standing to his full height. "Nets!" he bellows. "At least three! Boz'blot and Malaerc, you are the captains of the net party. Take the nets to the trees, and hang them. Do not let them drape in between the trees, though. Hold them high." He turns back to the two lures. "Run under the nets. Each under a seperate net. Understand?"

 

Chukk blinks. "Arrugh? Bait? Why me gotta be bait?" he looks at the bandages. "Why not use -him- for bait...then they eat him too?" he points at C'zoth.

 

Fenzokh looks down at Chukk. "No, neither of you get eaten. Look- you run under the nets, they drop the nets, the wolves get stuck in the nets, you're fine on the other side. One or two might get through, but you can take them, can't you?" He grins sadistically.

 

C'zoth groans slightly through clenched teeth as the ambassador of the King rips his bandages unceromoniously. New bandages are hurredly placed on tightly, and soon the region about the wounds loses feeling again. As Chukk suggests he should be used as bait, he snarls angrily and draws his knife, and spits out, "Because I ain't a damn fool, that why!" Despite his wounded condition, he hurls himself at Chukk's feet and attempts to drive the knife into Chukk's toes.

 

Tazglok licks his lips in anxiety at this proposal. He nods doggedly, arms limp at his sides, and concedes, "Yes, of course, run unders the nets, yes, of course." He sniffs the bandage in his fist, and looks down at C'zoth in mild disgust.

 

 

Tucking the over-sized blade into the sash at his waist, Malaerc nods vigorously as he grabs a length of the trailing netting. "Gonna do somes inquiries on the wolves, ma Bozis?" The small orc harkens to the command of Moria's Ambassador with a hearty salute, and somewhat overwhelmed with his new title, the uruk's pathetic balance is hurled into mayhem as his blurry feet tangle themselves hopelessly in the thick netting. Being dragged through the leaves for a few strides, Malaerc miraculously untangles himself to resume his trapsings with his counterpart runtorc.

 

Chukk jumps back. "Watchit....'for I just endya here wit me hammer." he lifts the hammer in a warning and looks back at Fenzokh. "Run under da nets....fine..."

 

Tazglok lopes to the valley-ward edge of the trap, staring out below for any sign of the wolves entering the valley yet.

 

The little jailer drags the hempweb in front of Fenzokh, then peels away two tabs at its corner.. "I gots three already, frilly-skirts. The hoisting of the nets though.." Bozblot's little red-bud tongue juts out, and he grinds on its bristles... "Two wee fellows holdins em up makes not-a-lotta sense to me." Bozblot lets the netting go limp in a mess of folds before him, and trunces towards to some large herder cobugs... "Hey, you lads.. got some gathering to do! Some wulv gatherins.. come and drag this net-up!"

       The cobugs comply, and begin unfurling the tangles of netting. Bozblot waggles his scimitar at the other runt of the party, and nods backwards to the dark-looming wood.. "You, with me..." Bozblot then starts off for the treeline. He calls back to the ambassador, "Set those nets up gud 'frilly-skirts'!"

 

Fenzokh shakes his head. "No, no no. Get more people. Tie two corners to a tree branch, tie ropes around the other corners. Throw the ropes over the branch. Have some people holding the ropes, pulled all the way. As soon as the bait runs through, they let the ropes go down the whole way. Once the wolves hit the net, your ropemen haul on the rope, lift 'em up in the air. Even if they get free from the net, the fall kills them. Understand? And we are going to talk about this frilly-skirts thing when you return."

 

A tent near the center of the camp rustles a bit. The flaps at the front part and Mugruk emerges. He twists and turns a bit, streching to test the way his wounds have healed. He seems convinced that they are better as he strides towards a cook fire. After days of resting only food is on his mind, the bustlings of the camp can wait.

 The herder cobugs nod at each and every instruction, the jailer having already left for the forrest. The two burly gatherers drag the netting to a narrow span between two massive holly trunks, and begin their labors.

 

Fenzokh turns and looks at the bait again. "Approach them slowly, get a good lead on them. The amount of time between when you run under the nets and when the wolves hit the nets is what will determine your safety. Run as fast as you can, give the ropemen time to drop it completely."

 

C'zoth crawls slowly back to his log, and slowly turns it to face the direction that the howls are coming from. Even if he cannot actively participate, he might be in for a show. With a slightly contented sigh, he lays down on the ground and rests his head on the log, and prepares to watch the show.

 

Malaerc bows stiffly, and without meaning to, quite comicly towards the ambassader, before scuttling off to trail behind the tiny orc motioning in the direction of the woods. The small Morian's visage scrunches slightly as he tries his best to discern the meaning of Bozblot's odd command. Shrugging slightly, Malaerc succumbs to his newest intriguing discovery as he calls after the runtorc in a myriad of nonsensical questions concerning the upcomming 'inquiries' that must insue.

Chukkslings his weapon on his back and holds the bandages,looking curiously at them. "I better not get bit by no wolfs....Or I gonna be mad..."

 

 

 The balefull song rises in another, harsher verse, as the beasts whail up in pockets all about the northern hillocks thick with flora. The jailer stops his march into the wood...

       The jailer resumes his march into the wood... Picking his toeholds in the underbrush carefully, Bozblot makes for slower pace than his frantic scanning would preffer, and still a few dry twigs and sheats of bark crack beneath his feet.

       The jailer turns, and peers back for the other runt... "Here we are" whispers Bozblot, tapping a small thicket of wiry branches.. "Lash these together wish me in a big box.. do a square first.."

 

Mugruk strides up to the cooking fire. He eyes a suculent looking piece of meat slowly turning on a spit. The hunter watches the meat turning, the fat dripping off the haunch, sizzling on the embers of the fire. Finally hunger over takes the hunter's self-control. He grabs the hot spit with the juicy meat on it. His teeth nash as he drives his face into the food, ripping large chunk off it, barely chewing before he swallows the warm pink meat.

 

 

 

* NOW THE PARTY IS NORTHEAST OF CAMP, IN HOPES OF FINDING THE WOLVES*

 **Gremdel played by Laer(malaeric) Bloodpelt played by Turd(Bozblot)**

 

 

Eregion, Path

You are walking along a lonely path that runs parallel to the Misty Mountains. The sharp peaks of that range loom to your east, stretching for what seems like forever to the north and south. West of you is a veritable wasteland of swamp, with little vegetation, life, or anything of interest.

Obvious exits:

Southwest and North

 

 

Tazglok runs back and forth, getting into the spirit of getting mowed down by a pack of wolves.

 

 

The moon is high over the land. By all outward appearances, everything seems still. But then you can notice some black shapes moving, in and around some trees on the outskirts of the open area.

 

 

The mountain brush's usually musky aroma is swimming with some foreign scent. A large wolf stays couped behind a crop of boulders, muzzle pitched to the wind... his long, lean jowells part, and from his throa timbres a terrible challenge...

 

 *RooOOOOOOOOouuuUUuuuuuuu* Bloodpelt laps his wiskers, drawing in fuel for another scream... *RoooOOOOOUUUUuuUUuuu*

 

 

Fenzokh is crouched behind a boulder, his battle axe held at the ready. He holds two fingers of his right hand up to his eyes, points at a group of three cobugs behind one boulder and another pair behind a tree, points back to his eyes again, then points at the wolves. He holds up a palm, indicating wait, points to a net, pulls his hand down by his side in a falling motion, then makes a slashing motion. Watch the wolves, watch me. Wait for the net to fall, and attack.

 

Chukk grunts out a sigh and takes the bloody bandages on his little trek out to the wilderness. He's wary as he walks around waving the bloodsoaked bandages. "here wolfy wolfy" he mutters as he walks around. "Want some blood?"

 

Tazglok plants his knuckles on the ground, and screams in agony at the wolves. He then stands, making a show of flailing his arms in the air.

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] Seeing his partner make his way out into the wilderness, Tazglok runs out a little way as well, slapping his beefy palms together, high above his head.

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] A pair of gleeming, crimson orbs materialize in the underbrush of a shadowy hollin tree. The eerie eyes pause for a moment to peruse the smattering of gathered Morians before closing abruptly in the aftermath of a rush of falling leaves. A deep ebony shade flits silently from treebole to treebole before disappearing completely in a haze of a sun covered patch of lush shrubbery. As the unearthly howl echos throughout the wood, an answer returns in what can only be equated with a reply in the form of a thick, blood curdling howl of a slightly different pitch. Gremdel's thin maw snaps shut horridly as he discontinues the terrible call, craning a probing set of nostrils into the air as high as his cover will allow.

 

 Talons rake the rock, as Bloodpelt summits the tallest boulder. The wolf's great carapace of lean muscle grows taught beneath his fur... the dark alizarin pelt, the large wolf's namesake, ruffles and sweeps over his shoulder gently as his limbs are flexed.

       Bloodpelt spoons his black serpant-tongue out from between his k-nines, and slaps his snotty nostrils. The tongue is pink underneath, and it carresses the spiney hairs about his black lips for some time... The high pointed cones of Bloodpelt's ears oscillate in swift dual-twitch, as his brother's call fills them with his beastial pleedings. The red wolf bays once more.

 rrrRROOOOOoooOOOUUUuuuuuuu

 

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] At the grim sight of the red wolf set against the black night sky, Tazglok stops his ridiculous wailing and stamping, and stares up at Bloodpelt. He picks his nose for a moment, then turns in place, nervously counting the eyes watching him from the unknown depths of the dark hillocks.

 

Chukk looks around, hearing the howls. "Now....they's around somewhere." he tromps along, chosing his steps as carefully as possible. "here, wolfy......come get ta blood" he says, waving the bloody rags around. he looks left and right.....still sure the wolves will jump out on him.

 

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] The magnificent form of a sizeable wolf unearths itself stealthily from it's cover in the forest undergrowth just beneath his comrade's giant perch. The scrawny beast's sinewy form paces back and forth beneath the boulder in tethered anticipation of spilt blood. Pure, untainted evil radiates from Gremdel's form in the emittance of gruesome snarls and the gnashing of knife-edge incisors. The man-sized leviathan jitters slightly as his emotions do their best to overcome his lithe body in the form of miniature spasms.

Fenzokh pulls a shiny, reflective rock from a pouch at his side. Turning it slightly, he reflects a beam of light to the Hollin trees, and it is quickly returned.

 

The workers in the trees are prepared. Two on each side hold tough ropes suspending the net in the air, two more up in the boughs themselves are making sure everything is excecuted well. From their high vantage points, they keep an eye on what they facy to be an army of wolves.

 

 

 

       Again the red-one's black tongue laps,

       again his talon-spread on boulder claps.

       Lichen flies,

       The Red One dives,

       And all the forrest yellows of the madness in his eyes.

 

       Bloodpelt springs. Turf is flung from his paws in great dark clods, and the wind of his pace whistles through his teeth.

 

 

[Tazglok(#30918)]       At the strike of the wolves, Tazglok changes direction, only half-feigning surprise, and screams again. He throws himself against a tree and scrabbles briefly at the steep base, keeping careful watch on the remaining distance between himself and the wolves. As they close to a bare hundred yards of his relatively frail form, Tazglok sets off at a mad dash toward the nets. He aims poorly, however, his path running a bit east of the trap.

      He rushes on, excited now by the chase, and looks up for his companions in the trees. A dark thought crosses his mind at the emptiness of the trees, and he looks behind, worried.

[

 

Huzghash(#11368)]

      The sun's burning shafts of light pour down from the sky, encountering no resistance from the few formations of clouds that dot the sky. The plants soak the sun in, the animals use it to find food, but those orcs...The orcs hate it, despise ever running stream of light. And Huzghash is no different. The Senior Guard trots into the area, spying some snaga and uruks working setting up some trap. Having heard some wolves howling earlier, HUzghash has decided to see what the orcs are doing about it.

      HIs pace quick, metal armour ringing loudly, the Senior Guard tromps down the path with his boots clomping madly to the ground. The group of uruks gets closer and closer, the nets in their hands now visible. Giving an audible grunt, Huzghash shrugs off the pain of the sun's rays and moves to see what is happening.

 

Chukk waves the bloody rag around. "HERE wolfy....get da blood, ya stupid -dog-." he looks around, listening closely. Hrrrm...perhaps the wolves are closer now. he hears the panting and rustling in to darkness and turns, beginnint to head back toward the net area.

 

Fenzokh risks a single shout. "Run now!" he screams. He signals the net crew with his mirror again, telling them to prepare. Once again, he signals for his crew to remain motionless.

 

Tazglok runs

 

Chukk breaks into a full run, huffing and puffing as he runs right for the nets.

 

 All the tufts of red-hide are pressed fast to his flanks in flagging overlap, as Bloodpelt speeds through his own wind. Between snotty blasts, his nostrils fill with the sweet scent of Tazglok's collar... The red wolf follows as the uruk wanders off to the east...

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] A flash of light crosses the Senior Guard's eyes, blindign him momentarily in the blackness of night. His pace unyielding, Huzghash steadily tromps forward and calls out after hearing someone call for a run. "What goes up there?!" The voice echoes slightly off the vacant mountainside as the Senior Guard trapses forward, beginning to gain a more clear view of the people ahead.

 

[Fenzokh(#18053)] The ropemen brace themselves against the ground, wrapping their feet around the end of the cord for an anchor. They know that if they loose those ropes, many may die. "Silence!" he hisses. "Come behind the nets, quickly!"

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] The slinking Gremdel is well into the brush of the forest even as Bloodpelt's firey figure is airborne. Moments later, the black evil is vomited forth from a thick collection of hollin several feet into the air in the direction of the retreating Chukk. Thick clods of soil are flung high into the air as the swift paws of the careening wolf eat mercilously into the forest floor. Intent on his prey, Gremdel hops from side to side as he deftly dodges a plethora of obstacles obstructing his pursuit of the slow scamperings of the scuttling orc. The lanky beast narrows in upon his target, opening his evil maw, attempting to nip at the heels of the running uruk.

 

 

 His gallop halts in mid-gliding stride, and Bloodpelt pistons all his paws into the ground before him; skidding. His cone ears turn to receive... orkish shouting? Bloodpelt stays his pace, and now humps the small perimiter of forest floor befor him. Pacing now, ears ever-cocked to the south, he samples some more of the strange aroma...

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] Finally guessing his error at the shouts off to his right, Tazglok veers back westward, dangerously shortening his trailing buffer. He stabs his fists out desperately as he races for the trap, then suddenly stops up short, just beyond one of the nets.

 

Tazglok waves his bloody rags in defiance, whooping at his safe arrival.

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] Clomp! Plomp! Huzghash trots forward, now nearing the 'net holders.' Slowing his pace, and thereby his sound, Huzghash makes his way near these uruks and plants himself near the last of their line; spear held out in his right hand. HIs crimson orbs dart back and forth from within his helmed visage as he looks out into the blanket of darkness. "What is that I sniff there?" The whisper comes out slightly louder than intended, but still fairly restrained.

 

 

Fenzokh gets to his feet, motioning for his crew to stay hideen. He goes and stands beside Huzghash. "Sshh.." he mutters. "Come, or you will foil our trap." He goes slowly back behind the boulder, peeking his eyes above out at the plain. "Come, guard. I will explain."

 

 

Chukk barrels right for the nets, dodging as weaving as he can to hopefully keep from being caught by the wolves. H

 

 

Logs creaking, rotwood shattering, iron-shod shoes pacing away the yards to safety... the forrest is thick with far-reaching echoes... Bloodpelt paces two more laps in appraisal, and then his coiled corporeal mass flies off to the southeast. The red-wolf takes up four long lopes before leaping through the last span of trees that Tazglok darted through. He yalps in a high ringing tone mid-air, his eyes espying orcs to either side...

 

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] Huzghash's head bobs slightly, an affirmative nod, even as the Guard does not turn to face his speaker. Watching as the uruk darts for a boulder, Huzghash silently follows (As silent as an orc in metal armour could!). His muscular form churning and tightening as he reaches the boulder and places himself near Fenzokh. His eyes quickly scan his surroundings, but turn back to the Ambassador shortly and latch on. A slight furrowing of the brow back to relaxed, and the crimson orbs stare at Fenzokh.

 

[Fenzokh(#18053)] "NOW!" Fenzokh calls. "Drop it!" The uruk calls. The netsmen release the great tie-down nets, and with a dull thud they hit the ground. When the netsmen are sure that they have their quarry, they give a great heave and the huge net ascends almost magically into the late night sky. Is there something in it?

 

Chukk runs past the nets, diving to the ground to make sure he doesn't get caught up in them.

 

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] As the great nets are hoisted back up into the trees, Tazglok jeers, "Stupid wolfies, come down and gets me, hahh." He throws the bandages violently up at the net, then beats his chest victoriously.

 

 

Bloodpelt writhes and heaves within the netting, yipping and yalping to his brother. One coil of netstrand peels back his brow; a great yellow eye rotates through all its socket... another strand hooks the red wolf's forefangs, yanking away the black rubbery cover of his lips.

       The red wolve snarls, his wirey backhairs stiffening to sheer quills. Bloodpelt twists himself into a knot, his jaw sawwing away the rope chords in viscious nips.

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] The nipping muzzle barrels to the soft soil in a spray of earth as its' prey evades the seemingly well-aimed bite of the overconfident wolf. Leaping high into the air amidst dirt clods, slobber, and greenery, Gremdel howls irately as his target evades him into the surrounging forset. The haze of flying debris settles slowly as the monstrous beast espies his brother heading for a fat patch of Morian uruks. Sniffing the air lightly, the evil catches the beautiful scent of matted orc blood as Tazglok hefts his trophy into the air with a haughty smirk. A piercingly thin howl reverbrates throughout the wood as Gremdel's emotions peak, and his lithe form flits speedily, yet grimly in the wake of the massive red before him, a wicked snarl smearing the thin features of the fell beast. As Bloodpelt crashes to the earth in a mass of tangled rope, Gremdel halts abruptly to stand high on his haunches with the force of his gait. Leaping ridiculously high into the chaotic fray in the direction of a rather large, spear-wielding orc, the black lunges dangerously for its' unprotected gullet, attempting to free his ensnared brother.

 

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] Caught entirely off-guard at the giant wolf thudding to the earth mere feet away, Tazglok falls backward, defensively, then scrambles around to a cluster of orcs tending the ropes. He watches the remains of the wolf assault anxiously, writhing his hands impatiently.

 

[Huzghash(#11368)]

      The nets crash, raise, and fall again; a large wolf caught within the confines of the tangled ropes. HUzghash smirks slightly, "So you hunt wolves?" His eyes glance to Fenzokh and back to the entangled wolf. Standing up from behind the boulder the Senior Guard begins to move forward to inspect this captured wolf. "Wolfie!" Then comes to howl. Another lithe form dives out of the darkness and shoots towards Huzghash, its deadly maw seeking the flesh of his gullet. Sidestepping the wolf, Huzghash manages to lose a piece of cloth from his pants as one of the claws on the wolf's front paws catches them. Sending his right foot up in a pointed kick for the Wolf's stomach, Huzghash smirks again. "Two?"

 

 

 More snearing, more sawwing.. Bloodpelt's yellow eye, forced wide, is free to blink now. The red wolf shears away the cord harranging his mouth, and slips his font paws out. The netted wolf scrapes at the ground, still trying to wriggle free his loins.

       Bloodpelt yaps to his brother, even as his hindlegs slip from bondage. Wheeling elatedly in full circle, Bloodpelt scrums up a wide sleuce of holly leaves.

 

 

Fenzokh laughs, a strange sound coming from an orc. "Not profesionally, no." he mutters, hauling back his war hammer and swinging the large flat part at a wolf's ribcage. "Actually, I'm an ambassador to the king. You have a military role, do you not?" He smiles in the combat, kicking at the wolf's legs and then swinging at it again. "I hope to capture these, train them. They are powerful."

 

Fenzokh says, "You!", pointing to a sentry. "Knock that wolf out!"

The sentry complies, pulling a small hammer from his belt and trying to find the best angle. When he is satisfied, he takes a swing at the wolf's head."

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] A mangled yelp spurts nastily from Gremdel's throat as a splayed nail snags itself on the clothing of his evasive prey, and a heavy boot slams into the underportion of his ensnared paw. Recoiling like a loosed spring, the black evil turns in wild circles, obviously overcome in an immense frenzy of pure rage and confusion as his brother's captors close in. Noticing the orc with the hammer, Gremdel launches himself between the intruding uruk and it's target, intending to protect the fallen red. Deep, crimson eyes regard the captors stoicly, daring another to approach the disabled Bloodpelt.

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] "I know you are the Ambassador." Breaths interrupting his words as the orc sets himself for another attack. "And yes, I am the Senior Guard." A quick glance to Fenzokh and then Huzghash takes a few running steps to come upon the wolf. Sending his shield arm out and down towards the wolf's head, Huzghash smirks and says, "Alive eh?" The twin orbs stare down at the form of the protective wolf, but the shield still comes.

 

 

[Fenzokh(#18053)] "Surround them!" comes the call from Fenzokh's maw. The cobugs now leap out of their hiding places, five in all, making the uruk party in all thirteen. Running swiftly, they move with evil cunning in an attempt to surround the wolves in a wall of weapons and armor.

 

 Still stammering his wirey legs into the leaves, Bloodpelt bells another shrill-ringing yaulp. He pirruoettes in half-circle several times, nuzzleing towards the forest. His beastial gullet now purring in a terrible bulltoad bass, the red wolf flaunts his freedom in front of his brother, and nuzzles again to the deep of the forest..

       *HrrrrrrrrrRRRrrrrRRRrrrrRAULP* ... surrounded.

 

 

Fenzokh cackles menacingly. "Take them alive." he mutters. "They might be useful." And the cobugs and net crews move in, ever so slowly, against the defensive canines.

 

[Fenzokh(#18053)] "You've got them." mutters Fenzokh. "Capture them and bind them well, with chains and not ropes." The night is ending. "I'll be in my tent." he mutters, and strides out.

 

[Gremdel(#23460)] Seeing his comrade free from his rope worked prison, what is most closely equated with a devilish grin creeps across Gremdel's features as he turns to face the approaching cobugs. The evil's nose points slightly skyward as the beast's eyes close momentarily... the calm before the storm, "Fear"... the only thought invading the processes of the wily wolf's thoughts. Bowing his thin muzzle to the earth, Gremdel rushes forward to the five assailants in an ebony blur. A misty spray of inky blood smatters the surrounding foliage as the black's jaw rips remorselessly into the throat of the nearest cobug, allowing a narrow path for a narrow figure. With nary a look back, and confident that the red will follow, Gremdel disappears silently into the shadow, an eerily thin howl floating in the winds of his wake.

 

 

 Cornered, Bloodpelt spurs through the carpet of leaves, and into the mossy mud below. /Deep/ tracts therein are delved, as the red wolf's hindlegs muster... His brother strikes, and through the ensueing shower of juggular juice, Bloodpelt steals a timely pounce through the gap in the encroaching orc's line. The red wolf speeds towards denser cover, his stiff, undulating tail mimmicking his every stride.

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] The Senior Guard watches as the two wolves dart out into the darkness. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Huzghash calls to the orcs, "Let them go. No use fighting them where they have /us/ cornered." A slight chuckle coming from the Senior Guard as he turns and begins walking back towards the camp. "Come. Back to work in the camp." The Guard's hand waves through the air beckoning the orcs to follow, and so they do.

 

[Tazglok(#30918)] Backing well out of the path of the wolves, Tazglok moves back into the clearing as the orcs start back for the camp. He steps lightly over the body of the dead orc and waits for a moment, hardly expecting any praise for his valour.

Tazglok points down to the body at his feet. "What do we do with him?" he inquires of Huzghash.

 

[Huzghash(#11368)] The Senior Guard glances over his shoulder, checking to see that the orcs are following him. Stopping, he turns back and calls out to the orc who has just called out to him. "Him? Whatever you wish. Leave him I say. Hurry though. Unless you wish to be fed to wolves yourself." With that the Guard turns again and lets a loud chuckle rumble from his body and echo in the mountains as he and the troupe of orcs make their way back to the camp.

 

Tazglok hurries along after the Senior Guard, hastening back to the tents ere break of day.