Priorities

Dark Temple

This floor is the highest in the spire of Sarn Goriwing, and thus the smallest. It is a single open chamber, its roof curving twenty feet overhead, its floor and walls of the glassy black rock of the tower. There are no windows, but several small alcoves are set into the smooth walls. With no natural light to illuminate the chamber, a thick chilling darkness covers all, like a snowy blanket muffling all that fall beneath it. The black, glassy, featureless walls seem to call for attention, and at closer inspection, shapes appear visible just beneath their surface. Locked within the black glass are what appear to be ghostly faces, their eyes hideously alive, frozen forever in terror and despair.

In the center of the chamber, an inlay into the obsidian can just be made out to form the shape of a large flaming Eye, tarnished and greatly defaced with scratchings and chips, it\'s intense glare ceaseless. Within what must be the slitted pupil of the Eye, a shattered altar of obsidian lies crumbling upon the floor, it must once have been nearly ten feet long and five feet wide. Now its pile of 5 torn pieces still shine eerily, as though aware of an intruding presence in this unholy place. Your instincts scream for departure.

Contents:

Witch-king

Torturing tools

Obvious exits:

Arched Doorway and Down

[Up(#14022)->Bagurat] Like an icy hand clutching at your heart, cold fear grips you as you enter this chamber, draining the warmth from your body. The inky darkness before you appears to pulsate and shift, not as a mere absence of light, but as living entity of it\'s own.

[+TIME] Middle-earth date is:

Sunday, Day 30 of October.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 20:06:59 MDT on Wed Sep 01 2010.

[Bagurat(#24847)]

An autumn afternoon hangs over Mirkwood, and yet here in the heights of the dark spire of Sarn Goriwing, no sunlight pierces the eternal gloom.

In this chamber filled with dark and cold dread, a figure stands, masked and garbed in black. The yellow gaze from inside the eyeholes is directed onto the crumbling altar that is set in the center of the floor, and it is this that Bagurat takes a step closer toward, halting once again.

[Witch-king(#28583)]

And it is not long ere the robed figure is joined by another this taller and darker by far however. Into the chamber strides one well known to the uruk-hai of Mordor, though usually spoken of in hushed, wary tones. In walks the fell master of all the hosts of Sauron whose name sparks dread up and down the length of Middle-Earth.

Here in a chamber wrought for the worship of his Lord, the Witch-king has shed all disguise and mystique, his cowl thrown back to reveal his fierce gaze in all its evil glory. As two flames shaped into eyes it fizes upon the first figure, though upon no face visible do they rest, and above them sits upon mere shadows a silver crown.

Lord of Morgul, First of the Nazgul, sorceror of Angmar of old the Witch-king looses a hiss from a mouth unseen, and greets Bagurat. \"Shaman,\" says he, in the fell tongue of the Eye, \"you have come at last.\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

If the sudden growth of chill and fear was not enough to signal the Wraith-lord\'s arrival, then the fell voice certainly accomplishes this. The yellowed eyes raise, swiftly, and as they alight upon that cloaked figure, a shudder passes along the orc\'s scrawny frame. And turning to face him fully, the shaman yields a deep bow in reverence.

\"I came with such haste as I was allowed, once the summons was received, High Shrieker,\" says she, eyes darting upward briefly to espy the crown that rests upon a head unseen. \"I know not of my purpose here...the guards have told me nothing, and the Teguk I have yet to see.\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

A nod of the silver crown, and the Wraith-lord passes Bagurat by, coming to stand in the center of the chamber, and the shadows rise and writhe as though in welcome of their master. Turning about then to face the witch-orc once more, the Nazgul\'s gaze narrows, and his voice is a serpent\'s hiss as he replies.

\"They know little, for wagging tongues may loose news aforetime, and the uruk-hai are jealous enough of the role the wargs have played thus far. The orcs are restless, mustered here, but their moment is coming, and you will aid me in my designs for them. In the task I have set for them, they will have need of one who is held in high counsel with the Nine, to remind them of their duty and orders.\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

The eyes behind the crow-mask flicker for a passing moment with what would seem to be pride at this last statement, but it is subdued, and Bagurat merely nods in acknowledgement. \"Consider them reminded already, for I shall do whatever you wish, readily. It is clear that the faith of the Master\'s slaves has lessened of late.\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

\"Small wonder,\" rasps the Nazgul in reply, though it seems he is displeased indeed by the matter, \"when they must share their fortress with the runts of the mountains, but even they have their uses. But no, Shaman, it is you who shall lead my assault, when the time comes, and it is nigh. You who shall take the glory when you succeed, and you who will answer for failure, also...\"

These last words are spoken with no small measure of menace, and the shadows of the chamber snatch and claw at the senses as they roil of a sudden.

[Bagurat(#24847)]

The witch-orc listens intently, her thin, short form seeming even smaller as it stands there in the gloom, alone with this specter of Shadow. And as the darkness flares and clutches, the shaman makes an involuntary step away, stumbling slightly over the hem of her sable robes.

\"I will not fail, my lord,\" the answer is breathed more than uttered, and Bagurat swallows. \"What - what is this plan of which you speak, if you are willing to reveal to your faithful servant?\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

A sneer might be heard upon the Nazgul\'s words as he speaks next, and with eyes ablaze he fixes his gaze upon Bagurat\'s own once more. \"The wargs and their riders will strike against the rabble of Grimbeorn, but that is but a feint, to draw the bear-man out and keep him occupied. As they fend off what they will assume is the worst of their troubles, then shall my designs come to bear. For while the western plains see battle, so too will these dark eaves which hide our most hated of enemies...\"

The red eyes flash with rekindled flame, and all about the chamber the dread of the shadows chokes and strangles at Bagurat\'s senses. \"While the beasts vie with the menfolk, you shall lead my armies against the Elves. Storm the forest slay their sentries, and harry them to their very gates! The time has come to test the strength of the Elvenking, and I deem we will find him lacking...\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

The mouth hidden behind the mask parts as if to speak, but no sounds come forth. Giving a violent shiver in reward to the dreadful assault of the shadows, the shaman drops to her knees, head bowed so that the metallic beak almost scrapes against the floor.

\"It is the highest honor,\" the orc forces out at last, \"to be entrusted with such a task. I shall lead them as best I may, and He be willing, I will make certain to pick fresh sacrifices from the foes we slay. Soon the wretched Light-lovers will know of the Master\'s power.\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

The silver crown dips anew at this in a nod, and the Witch-king seems sated the shadows of the chamber slackening and releasing its occupants from their assault. \"The time draws near, Shaman of the Master. Ready yourself for but a week\'s time, ere you lead the armies of the Dark Lord into victory. I shall call upon you again, ere the hour of your departure.\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

And the crow-mask dips and rises again in a nod, ere Bagurat\'s voice slips into the air anew. \"I will await your return, High Shrieker, and will be prepared when that time comes.\" Retaining her spot upon the stone ground, the witch-orc slowly lifts her yellowed gaze to risk a peer up at that cruel robed figure. \"Until then, I shall make certain that the others are reminded of their duties, and that their slacking piety is renewed.\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

The Nazgul nods once more, and as he turns away he stalks the chamber with silent steps. \"Go now, my trusted servant, and be about your business. I must commune with my brethren, unless there is aught you need of me?\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

There is a silence as the shaman pushes herself to her feet, and her head turns toward the ruined slab that lies in the center of the chamber. \"There is one thing more I wish to know, Shrieker,\" says she. \"The altar is in ruins, and torn apart...how came it to be that way? If it is fixable, I would have it restored, so that it may serve Him better. It seems a disservice to leave it so.\"

[Witch-king(#28583)]

For a moment the shadows return in all their hateful wrath at this question, but even as the gaze of the Wraith-lord simmers and returns to Bagurat, they begin to still and calm once more.

\"Disuse, and idleness,\" he answers, voice cold with displeasure. \"Too long have the northern woods been left without the will of the Eye, to tarnish and wither in His absence. But that is a small matter when weighed against the plans I have set in motion. Your concern does you credit, but is misplaced. In due time, when the Elves are slain and their corpses rot in the glare of the Sun they so adore, then shall this temple be restored for communion with a fresh one in Thranduil\'s halls.\"

[Bagurat(#24847)]

An instinctual hiss forms in Bagurat\'s throat, and she gives a flinch as the dark turns wroth. But then it calms, and so too does her form, though less in comparrison.

\"Forgiveness, lord,\" the shaman manages to say, eyes flitting swiftly back toward the Ringwraith then. \"A misplaced concern,\" she agrees, with another jerked nod. \"Your designs are of more import, of course, and upon them will all of my attention go.\" This stated, the shaman bows at the waist, the chain wrapped thereon, clanking momentarily against the stone. And then the witch-orc begins to depart with backward steps. Indeed, she seems loath to let that fell being from her sight, and it is not until she is on the threshold of the doorway that she turns fully and darts off.

[Witch-king(#28583)]

As the Shaman departs, the Nazgul\'s stare lingers long upon the empty doorway ere at length it cools and smoulders to a deep ruby, and turning aside the Wrath-lord melds with the shadows of the chamber.

Night goes on, in the evil fortress of Sarn Goriwing.