Bargaining over bones

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Late Afternoon on Sunday, Day 6 of February.

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Real time is: 19:29:34 MDT on Fri Jun 04 2010.

Near the edge of the Forest

The forest slowly gives way to the North to a great grasslands, though you can just make out the shadow of another forest, far to the North. There are stumps on the ground here, remnants of when the forest once reached accross most of Middle-earth, yet now all that remains is a great grasslands and a few petrified stumps...

Contents:

Bogak

Uruk Camp

Obvious exits:

East leads to On the Edge of Fangorn.

North leads to Long Plain, Near Fangorn.

Fangorn dominates the winter landscape -- a vast and dark threatening ocean of gnarled trees. However, keeping a safe distance away, the Mordain encampment has settled itself nearby upon the plain. Tents are scattered haphazardly, and black shapes scuttle amid them as they go about the day\'s tasks. The snowy-hued sky has opened to let the sun peek out and its appearance has slowed progress somewhat.

Stumps of dead and felled trees litter this area where the camp sits, and upon one of them, a crimson robed goblin lays awkwardly -- no doubt it is not the best idea of a bed. Bagaglok appears to be sleeping.

Bogak comes out of the general camp area and looks this way and that, squinting his eyes. He locks his sight on Bagaglok and begins to move in his direction, glancing over his shoulder now and again. Upon arrival, he looks down at the sleeping orc, and studies him carefully, and glances over any belongings he may have sitting out.

Alas, for there are not many exposed belongings to be seen. A few dirty bottles rest on the trampled grass, and their sickly looking contents smell none too pleasantly. Only a scimitar hilt may be glimpsed perhaps, and anything more is hidden beneath the red fabric the orc wears.

Even as Bogak approaches, the shaman mutters something, gives a start, and promptly topples off the percarious perch. As he falls there is the sound of claws scraping against the wood of the cut trunk. \"Mountain-rat!\" he peers angrily over the top of the \'bed\', but then blinks. \"..thought you were someone else...\"

Bogak takes a few steps back, clutching a flag-pole as tenderly as he did in his days as a snaga. \"There are elves about, aren\'t there?\" he says. \"I was wondering if... you would read the dwarf-knuckles.\" He holds the flag foreward slightly as if it were a barrier of protection. \"If you can see what\'s going to happen--why don\'t you tell anybody?\" He adds after a moment\'s hesitation.

A slight hesitation likewise appears following that question, and Bagaglok takes the moment to settle himself back onto the stump in a sitting position with his legs folded beneath. \"I already know what they will tell,\" he answers finally, slowly, and he frowns at the ground. \"They\'ve foretold the same thing ever since we drew close to that accursed albai wood. And now we\'re coming upon yet another forest.\" The dark blot of Fangorn is given a mistrusting and hateful glare. \"This one, so I\'ve heard say, is not welcoming to our kind. Something about \'killer-trees.\' The dwarf bones have only pointed to the \'death\' rune. I could tell the camp, but..don\'t think they\'d be pleased.\"

\"But you mentioned Elves,\" the robed uruk\'s mouth pulls into a nasty grin. \"Perhaps you\'d be interested in a little job...\"

[Bogak(#16349)] \"Rune of... death?\" he repeats. Bogak isn\'t sure what else to say, and simply tilts his head and looks questioningly at Bagaglok. When he mentions the job, however, he plants the end of his flag pole and nods, \"I might be.\"

\"The rune of death would seem to be telling us that the black forest wishes us ill. Could very well be that any daring enough to enter will..meet their fate.\" The shaman shakes his skull-helmed head as if trying to dispell an unpleasant thought. At the other orc\'s potential willingness, he looks up again, watching with that yellow gaze. \"How would you like to assist in catching one of the pointed-ears? They\'ve plagued us long enough.\"

Bogak glances toward the camp and couple of times and then nods, \"Yes! What do I have to do?\" He takes another step forward, planting the flag in the new spot he\'s standing.

\"Good, good,\" laughs Bagaglok. \"Fashion a net for me then. A large, and particularly strong one. I\'m certain the herdsmen have some wool left over from Pulgorbuurz...and if not, you could always fetch some vines or whatnot from the black wood,\" the fanged grin broadens. \"Do this well, and I may just reward you with something worthy of the efforts.\"

Bogak leans on the flag pole and is obviously thinking. \"Well,\" he says after a moment, \"a net? What are we going to do with a net?\" He looks around at the landscape around them and shakes his head uncertainly, \"I don\'t know if I can find wool. Maybe I could... go with someone else.\"

\"Afraid to venture into the wood alone, eh?\" the robed goblin snorts, although a brief expression that crosses his face would suggest he feels likewise. \"I...could accompany you, I suppose.\" The shaman doesn\'t look too thrilled on the aspect. \"Might find some useful herbs or something for my studies,\" he waves lazily at the bottles on the ground. \"As for the net, one of the mountain-rats wishes for me to use a net to trap one of the leaf-ears.\"

Bogak replies with something that sounds like a snort of his own. \"I never said I was afraid,\" he grumbles back. \"But, if someone is there with me... well, then they could carry the net while I carry my flag, see.\" He nods, \"I\'ll do it then!\" He leans forward, \"If you\'ll let me... look at the dwarf knuckles.

\"Fine, I\'ll carry the net,\" the Malkog grumbles a little, and he folds his sleeved arms over his chest, canting his head as he considers Bogak. Then, after a pause, he slowly produces a battered pouch from an inside pocket in his garments, and tosses it toward the other uruk. The contents rattle as the bag soars. \"Don\'t lose any,\" warns Bagaglok. \"Or I may just have to find replacements.\" He yields the soldier orc\'s own hands a pointed glance. \"Imagine you\'d not like to lose yours.\"

Bogak jumps as the bag sails toward him. As it hits his chest, he grabs it with his free hand and holds it out in front of him as if it were fragile. He glances over at Bagaglok and kneels down, letting the flag lean over against his shoulder. Hunching over the item, he lets himself go and become enveloped in a blanket of wonderment as he looks at each bone. After some time, he gets up and closes the bag, staring at it intimately. \"Wh-when?\" he stammers. \"When do we do this task?\"

Bagaglok, for his part, simply observes in silence, and at Bogak\'s evident wonderment, the corner of his lip twitches in amusement. \"Whenever you are ready,\" he replies. \"The sooner the better, for the camp will not linger long in this area.\"

He shifts himself to get more comfortable on the hard tree stump. \"Is there anything at all you had in mind for a reward?\"

Bogak shifts uncomfortably, \"Well, I wasn\'t expectin\' to go now...\" he says slowly. He looks back toward the camp, this time somewhat longingly. \"Tomorrow would be a better time. Give the elves a chance to come closer for your... your trap.\"

\"Indeed,\" the crimson-garbed orc laughs again. \"The time of departure is your choice.\" Bagaglok pushes himself to his feet. \"I shall let the reward be a surprise, then, unless you say otherwise.\" He sets his feet in the direction of the camp\'s border, pauses, and holds out his claw expectantly. \"The knuckles, if you are finished with them. Did they reveal anything to you?\"

Bogak watches Bagaglok move as if to leave, his mouth slightly agape. He jerks and looks down at the bag of bones, and then carefully leans over and hands it to the other orc. \"Reveal anything? What do you mean?\" he asks in confusion.

The shaman clutches the bag into his hand. Bogak\'s response earns a new snort. \"No, I didn\'t think so. Nevermind, then.\"

He turns fully toward the encampment, taking the first few paces or so for the outermost line of tents. \"I shall finish my nap in the shade of my tent.\" Bagaglok glances over his shoulder, still clenching the pouch tightly before he stuffs it away. \"Perhaps we will discuss your prize another time, yes? I still have some \'lucky\' potion I could give you for your work and willingness.\"

Bogak shifts his position for a moment as he finally puts aside space in his mind to ponder over the \'prize.\' He turns back and says plainly, \"I don\'t want a potion. If I had one of your knuckle-bones, maybe I can listen to the Voice of your Dwarves.\" He looks pleadingly in Bagaglok\'s direction.

The shaman stops, and there is a soft whirl of red cloth as he spins back round. \"You want this?\" With a sly smirk, he withdraws a single bone, holding it up between his fingers for the second orc to see. He backtracks, stepping to stand closer to the Dog, and for a moment it seems as though Bagaglok will drop it into Bogak\'s hands. But he does not. \"You shall get it /after/ you craft the net I require.\" The knuckle disappears from sight, and the shaman starts in the direction of the camp once more.

Bogak appears ready to take the bone, but seems to squirm visibly somewhat when the delight is denied. \"Arrgh!\" he says, \"I will help you--tomorrow!\" He picks up the flag and grips it with both hands as he begins to move back to the entrance of the encampment, a sour snarl on his face.