Elendor
Plotting at the Gates?
Two Morians, Tetrak and scout, exchange news of the world above ground
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Moria, Great Gates
Game Date: June 3049
IC Time: Night
Description: Moria, Great Gates
Here, hewn from stone, towers the eastern entrance of Moria. Once adorned by the work of skilled dwarves, the dilapidated facade now reflects the demeanor of its crueler occupants. While expertly fashioned pillars guarded the mines in days of old, they now loom broken and defiled by the cruel mechanations of orcs. Filthy runes writhe across them like sewer snakes the ground is littered with rubble and discarded armor here and there shattered bones jut from under the detritus a sickly stench drifts from inside.
Two immense statues of Durin the Deathless now remain near Moria's entrance. These days, however, their graffitied heads lie shattered on the ground, scattered near the metallic ruins of steel doors that once afforded protection.
Obvious exits:
Broken Doors leads to First Hall
Stair Down leads to Dimrill Dale
The East Gate of Moria lies still in its ruined state, trash and other debris in small piles litter the gate's path. Just inside the gates can be heard the clatter of Orcs in motion - armour banging armour as a troop of Uruks moves from within the Mines. The uruks move in rhythm, step for step on their way out of the mines.
Standing outside the entrance to Moria is Erghash, eyes cast out toward the Dimrill Dale. At his waist, his belt hangs a touch lower than usual - pulled down by a somewhat preserved Dwarven head. The Dush-Krimpat grunts on hearing the approaching troop, eyes glancing back at them as they begin to emerge from the Mines and make their way towards his position.
===== +MTIME =================================================================
IC Time: Nighttime on Hevensday, Day 8 of June. You are underground.
Current Balrog Mood: Low Simmer. Tread with caution!
==============================================================================
There is a scuttering in the shadows, movement within the darkness, and the sound of flat feet on the stairs. Then the scrawny form of the Thrakburzum scout Barzhaat comes into view. There is something at her belt also, though it looks rather longer and thinner than a dwarf-head. She moves carefully, and when she comes into view of the Tetrak she halts, gaze skittering this way and that as though locating the nearest cover. "A fine night for a hunting," she calls in the Morian tongue by way of greeting.
Erghash smirks, eyes still lingering down the Dale. "Hunting, eh?" The Morghash questions, turning a bit to face the Scout. "Now what would you be hunting? Elf?" Erghash waves the troop of armored Morians on past with the flick of his wrist, eyes lingering on them only a moment. "They go to hunt as well, though for what is yet to be seen." Erghash says simply, eyes now moving to follow the Morians on their way down to the Dale.
At the question the scout turns her head away from Erghash and spits. "Skai! I should be so lucky. Neither hide nor hair of the cursed tree-humpers for miles about." She pulls back against the side of one of the broken statues to allow the patrol to pass. "Flame grant those lads better luck. Nothing come to my arrows lately but scrawny hares."
Once the patrol has passed, the she-orc steps out again from her shelter, and murmurs, thin lips pulling back from her teeth, "Might be the light-lovers' eyes are elsewhere. Heard word of Easterners ..."
Erghash's head bobs in acknowledgment. "Easterners..." The Morian pauses, "Yet another thing to put on the list." Erghash shakes his head, turning his focus back to the she-orc entirely. "Tell me then, Scout, what have you heard about these Easterners? What is it that you know?"
The she-orc stands still under that gaze, chin lifted slightly. The words, when they come, are carefully and politely phrased. "There was a Thrakburzum patrol that crossed the river and found some Easterners, Eye-Worshippers. Word passes through the ranks of such things. Report was they sought timber. Claimed they'd had trouble with the filthy tree-lovers, suggested the if the Gothshaka wanted light-lovers' blood there was plenty to share." Once again, her lips pull back from her teeth in a smile that is half snarl. "Some thought it a ruse, to pull our forces elsewhere whilst Easterners crossed the River." A pause, then she adds, still with that wary politeness, "But I am sure the Morghash know such things also." Her gaze drops unbidden, and when it finds the bloodied dwarf-head it fixes there, eyes lighting with an odd hunger.
"Yes, I heard rumors to that effect." Erghash nods, glancing down towards the Dale. "Though I have been kept busy protecting our Northern front in the Highpass against trespassing Dwarfs and humans." The Dush-Krimpat chuckles, his right hand coming to rest atop his axe blade.
"I am surprised these Easterners were not dealt with by the Gothshaka, given that I had our Northern front secured." Erghash pauses, "It would have seemed wise to engage these eye-worshipping fools to see what we could gain." Erghash's fingers begin to tap upon the axe. "Though it would seem the leadership of our Mines has been lacking, of late."
At the tapping of the axe the she-orc's hungry gaze flickers, and she pulls herself upright. "I see that the Tetrak has had good hunting also," she offers in return, "something better than a hare." She pauses, turning slightly so that she can gaze out on the star-studded darkness stretching eastward. "Will he be sending forces eastward, then? Or are the Mines perhaps .. more urgent? There is, as you say, a lack of leadership." Briefly, her fangs are revealed, then she adds matter-of-factly, "I keep my arrows sharp."
"Ah, the Dwarves... Yes." Erghash muses, before addressing the remainder of the she-orc's questions. "I do not know what the Gothshaka will do. I know what I would have done, had I known earlier." The Dush-Krimpat points after the patrol that had left. "Perhaps they will return with more info for action to be taken, but that action must be taken at the lower levels. It does us no good to wait for such important matters to be dissected at the highest levels." Erghash spits, "We have wasted too much time, but Shadow and Flame will do what must be done."
Barzhaat does not comment on Erghash' words, merely offers a question: "What will you do now?" Her hand lifts to finger one of the greasy braids that adorn her head, her expression musing.
"Wait." Erghash states flatly, eyes searching the distant Dale. "That is what I must do for now, until my patrols return. Once I had solid information I will move." The Dush-Krimpat smirks slightly, eyes returning to the She-Orc. "It would do well for the Thrakburzum to move, when I move as well. There is much work to be done in the name of Shadow and Flame, and it has been kept wanting too long now."
Barzhaat's finger twines in the braid, twirls what looks like a shard of bone and then lets it drop. "I will pass your words to those of the Thrakburzum who listen. Do I not serve eyes and ears?" Her lips draw back briefly from her teeth. Then she adds, softly, "When you have work for an archer, send word. I will come." And whether that is an offer of aid in a coup, or merely a ploy to keep one who is suspected dangerous under observation, who can say?
"They will listen, scout." Erghash states, his cold eyes staring back to the Dale. "Shadow and Flame will ensure they listen, or die painfully." The Dush-Krimpat begins to move away now, himself towards the Dimrill Dale. "I will send word, scout. Do keep your barbs sharp..." And with that, Erghash is off at a quick trot through the night air.
Shadow and flame. Barzhaat's features are still, but the hand that had recently dropped back to her belt clenches suddenly, bumping against the limp hare carcass. "Flame favour your hunt," she calls after Erghash, then turns and climbs the last few steps to the Great Gates and disappears into the cavern.
Here, hewn from stone, towers the eastern entrance of Moria. Once adorned by the work of skilled dwarves, the dilapidated facade now reflects the demeanor of its crueler occupants. While expertly fashioned pillars guarded the mines in days of old, they now loom broken and defiled by the cruel mechanations of orcs. Filthy runes writhe across them like sewer snakes the ground is littered with rubble and discarded armor here and there shattered bones jut from under the detritus a sickly stench drifts from inside.
Two immense statues of Durin the Deathless now remain near Moria's entrance. These days, however, their graffitied heads lie shattered on the ground, scattered near the metallic ruins of steel doors that once afforded protection.
Obvious exits:
Broken Doors leads to First Hall
Stair Down leads to Dimrill Dale
The East Gate of Moria lies still in its ruined state, trash and other debris in small piles litter the gate's path. Just inside the gates can be heard the clatter of Orcs in motion - armour banging armour as a troop of Uruks moves from within the Mines. The uruks move in rhythm, step for step on their way out of the mines.
Standing outside the entrance to Moria is Erghash, eyes cast out toward the Dimrill Dale. At his waist, his belt hangs a touch lower than usual - pulled down by a somewhat preserved Dwarven head. The Dush-Krimpat grunts on hearing the approaching troop, eyes glancing back at them as they begin to emerge from the Mines and make their way towards his position.
===== +MTIME =================================================================
IC Time: Nighttime on Hevensday, Day 8 of June. You are underground.
Current Balrog Mood: Low Simmer. Tread with caution!
==============================================================================
There is a scuttering in the shadows, movement within the darkness, and the sound of flat feet on the stairs. Then the scrawny form of the Thrakburzum scout Barzhaat comes into view. There is something at her belt also, though it looks rather longer and thinner than a dwarf-head. She moves carefully, and when she comes into view of the Tetrak she halts, gaze skittering this way and that as though locating the nearest cover. "A fine night for a hunting," she calls in the Morian tongue by way of greeting.
Erghash smirks, eyes still lingering down the Dale. "Hunting, eh?" The Morghash questions, turning a bit to face the Scout. "Now what would you be hunting? Elf?" Erghash waves the troop of armored Morians on past with the flick of his wrist, eyes lingering on them only a moment. "They go to hunt as well, though for what is yet to be seen." Erghash says simply, eyes now moving to follow the Morians on their way down to the Dale.
At the question the scout turns her head away from Erghash and spits. "Skai! I should be so lucky. Neither hide nor hair of the cursed tree-humpers for miles about." She pulls back against the side of one of the broken statues to allow the patrol to pass. "Flame grant those lads better luck. Nothing come to my arrows lately but scrawny hares."
Once the patrol has passed, the she-orc steps out again from her shelter, and murmurs, thin lips pulling back from her teeth, "Might be the light-lovers' eyes are elsewhere. Heard word of Easterners ..."
Erghash's head bobs in acknowledgment. "Easterners..." The Morian pauses, "Yet another thing to put on the list." Erghash shakes his head, turning his focus back to the she-orc entirely. "Tell me then, Scout, what have you heard about these Easterners? What is it that you know?"
The she-orc stands still under that gaze, chin lifted slightly. The words, when they come, are carefully and politely phrased. "There was a Thrakburzum patrol that crossed the river and found some Easterners, Eye-Worshippers. Word passes through the ranks of such things. Report was they sought timber. Claimed they'd had trouble with the filthy tree-lovers, suggested the if the Gothshaka wanted light-lovers' blood there was plenty to share." Once again, her lips pull back from her teeth in a smile that is half snarl. "Some thought it a ruse, to pull our forces elsewhere whilst Easterners crossed the River." A pause, then she adds, still with that wary politeness, "But I am sure the Morghash know such things also." Her gaze drops unbidden, and when it finds the bloodied dwarf-head it fixes there, eyes lighting with an odd hunger.
"Yes, I heard rumors to that effect." Erghash nods, glancing down towards the Dale. "Though I have been kept busy protecting our Northern front in the Highpass against trespassing Dwarfs and humans." The Dush-Krimpat chuckles, his right hand coming to rest atop his axe blade.
"I am surprised these Easterners were not dealt with by the Gothshaka, given that I had our Northern front secured." Erghash pauses, "It would have seemed wise to engage these eye-worshipping fools to see what we could gain." Erghash's fingers begin to tap upon the axe. "Though it would seem the leadership of our Mines has been lacking, of late."
At the tapping of the axe the she-orc's hungry gaze flickers, and she pulls herself upright. "I see that the Tetrak has had good hunting also," she offers in return, "something better than a hare." She pauses, turning slightly so that she can gaze out on the star-studded darkness stretching eastward. "Will he be sending forces eastward, then? Or are the Mines perhaps .. more urgent? There is, as you say, a lack of leadership." Briefly, her fangs are revealed, then she adds matter-of-factly, "I keep my arrows sharp."
"Ah, the Dwarves... Yes." Erghash muses, before addressing the remainder of the she-orc's questions. "I do not know what the Gothshaka will do. I know what I would have done, had I known earlier." The Dush-Krimpat points after the patrol that had left. "Perhaps they will return with more info for action to be taken, but that action must be taken at the lower levels. It does us no good to wait for such important matters to be dissected at the highest levels." Erghash spits, "We have wasted too much time, but Shadow and Flame will do what must be done."
Barzhaat does not comment on Erghash' words, merely offers a question: "What will you do now?" Her hand lifts to finger one of the greasy braids that adorn her head, her expression musing.
"Wait." Erghash states flatly, eyes searching the distant Dale. "That is what I must do for now, until my patrols return. Once I had solid information I will move." The Dush-Krimpat smirks slightly, eyes returning to the She-Orc. "It would do well for the Thrakburzum to move, when I move as well. There is much work to be done in the name of Shadow and Flame, and it has been kept wanting too long now."
Barzhaat's finger twines in the braid, twirls what looks like a shard of bone and then lets it drop. "I will pass your words to those of the Thrakburzum who listen. Do I not serve eyes and ears?" Her lips draw back briefly from her teeth. Then she adds, softly, "When you have work for an archer, send word. I will come." And whether that is an offer of aid in a coup, or merely a ploy to keep one who is suspected dangerous under observation, who can say?
"They will listen, scout." Erghash states, his cold eyes staring back to the Dale. "Shadow and Flame will ensure they listen, or die painfully." The Dush-Krimpat begins to move away now, himself towards the Dimrill Dale. "I will send word, scout. Do keep your barbs sharp..." And with that, Erghash is off at a quick trot through the night air.
Shadow and flame. Barzhaat's features are still, but the hand that had recently dropped back to her belt clenches suddenly, bumping against the limp hare carcass. "Flame favour your hunt," she calls after Erghash, then turns and climbs the last few steps to the Great Gates and disappears into the cavern.
Players: Erghash, Barzhaat
Located in: Morian
