In the cage

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Stepping into the dimly lit tent after the rope-bound body of the boar has disappeared inside, the shaman pauses, making a show of securing the hide flap behind him. The bundle of arrows is plopped clattering upon a rickety table in the corner, ere Bagaglok moves further into the room.

It is a dreary place, by all accounts. Dark, pungent smelling, and messy various things are strewn across counters and makeshift shelves -- bottles and vials, some of which have spilled their contents on the floor, for there are the marks of past stains. Boxes are in one corner, but perhaps the most curious pieces of this tent are the items sitting next to them...cages of different sizes are propped up there. One holds a small black bird, though it chirps no more. It is dead.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat, head down and dragging the boar forward, jumps visibly at the clatter of arrows. She threads her way between boxes and shelves, arms held tight in at her side in an effort to avoid touching anything, then dumps her burden next to the cages. She eyes the bird suspiciously and then forces her head up, fingering one long braid. \"I have kept my side of the bargain, Master of Brews,\" she proclaims. \"Now it is your turn. You have the poison ready?\" She leans forward expectantly.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

\"Into the cage, if you don\'t mind,\" says the robed orc, pointing to one of the larger steel structures. Noticably, he has thus far lingered quite close to the doorway, but as he speaks, the shaman paces forward. \"Indeed I have it here, as I promised prior,\" with a claw, Bagaglok pats a bulge in his garments. \"You are quite eager for it?\"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat starts at that instruction, long claw-nails digging into her palms. \"/What?/\" For an instant it seems as if her right hand, straying to her side, will close around her scimitar. Then she shakes her head. \"Ah, you mean the boar. Very well.\" Kneeling, she tries to roll the creature\'s body through the open door of the structure indicated. The boar is looking rather battered - indeed, apart from the faint exhausted heaving of its flanks one might almost think the creature dead rather than alive - but at the motion it writhes, sending one sharp hoof kicking against Barzhaat\'s arm. She winces and brings the cut to her mouth.

Composure regained, at least in part, she manages a nod and a taut grin. \"I am eager to kill the cursed tree-humpers .. and to fell my enemies.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

\"Yes, the boar,\" the Malkog\'s lip twitches slightly with a half-grin. Yellow eyes watching closely as the she-orc hauls the animal into the designated area, he follows inch by inch, slowly, purposefully.

\"Disposing of enemies is always a good thing,\" nods Bagaglok. \"Would you wish to know the effects of the poison? Hear what it is capable of? ...see it, even...\" He has barely ceased speaking, when he darts the remainder of the distance -- the uruk is a red blur..and then he is beside the cage, flicking out a long sleeved arm to try and slam the door shut before Barzhaat can emerge.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat\'s hand falls away from her mouth instantly, to reach for that swinging door, and then she is beside it, putting her shoulder to the steel and pitting her strength against the Shaman\'s in an effort to stop the near-shut door from latching. \"You dare!\" she hisses. \"Release me, Easterner, or may the Flame burn maggot-holes in your belly!\" And then, with a forced softness that is not reflected in her blazing yellow eyes, \"Perhaps you mistake your enemies.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

And so the heavy door is caught between two opposing forces, and it scrapes and digs into the dirt of the floor as it trembles first this way and then the other. Hinges creak and groan, but they do not swing enough to complete the actual latching, and the door remains ajar, neither shut nor open.

The Morian\'s initial threat is dismissed with a mocking snort, but when her tone shifts, Bagaglok\'s pushing slackens. \"Is that so?\" he asks, still standing with one shoulder and side against the door, though he does not apply further strength upon it. \"Say on, then...\"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat, on the other hand, does not stop pushing - the thought of being pent up in the foreigners\' camp like a caged beast is not appealing. \"I did not seek to use the poison against your kind, Master of Brews,\" she hisses, with forced civility. \"If I wished to kill Easterners, there are easier ways.\" Her fangs gleam. \"I would merely use a single arrow to resolve an internal matter.\" Her gaze darts round the untidy tent as though seeking a weapon, though her hand does not dare clasp her scimitar yet, lest even one instant of slackened force cause the trap to spring fully shut on her.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The Northerner\'s searching eyes would easily find an assortment of potential armaments scattered about this place -- surely any sort of bottle could be dangerous if it shattered, both from its glass and from its vile looking contents. Then there are the arrows yet sitting upon the corner table in their bundle...

\"An internal matter,\" repeats the robed goblin, and then he laughs, as if the words have reminded him of something considerably amusing. \"Rat against rat, as he said...\" But the door has not paused in its motions under Barzhaat\'s determinded struggling it has already sprung back quite a ways. \"Birds and boars are suitable experiments, but I want something better for a test subject. Something closer alike to us.\" And then Bagaglok is back to striving against the door, but his pause has left him in disadvantage. Surely the would-be captive could force the door open the remainder of the way without too much difficulty.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat rises to the bait. \"I am no rat!\" she proclaims angrily, quite unaware that she has just proven her suitability as a test subject. With that instant of slackened vigilance she hurls herself forward, hoping to force the door open and propel herself forward onto Bagaglok with full fury of fang and claws.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

With a loud creak and clang, the door is thrown wide, quivering a little from the energy exerted upon it. The shaman hisses in a mixture of surprise and frustration but the violent opening of the cage has knocked him backward, staggering, and he falls in a flurry of red fabric.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat, of course, tumbles also, but rather than clawing or biting she grabs at the nearest table and the vial that sits there. \"Shall I smash this against your swollen head, Master of Brews?\" she hisses, her clawed fingers holding it gingerly. \"Or will it be an exchange - the poison and my life for yours? And I wish to see the goods I have paid for proven before our business is done - on the boar.\"

The words are confident, but the thin, wiry frame is trembling with the effort of curbing the instinct to strike.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Rolling as best he can in the tangle of crimson robes, Bagaglok shoves himself to his clawed feet. He makes a movement as if to follow, and snatch for the she-orc\'s collar to attempt to drag her bodily into the cage -- but he freezes as his yellow eyes alight upon the vial Barzhaat holds hovering in the air. The shaman does not go nearer, and instead he thrusts a hand into his clothes, and it is withdrawn, the poison bottle is clasped therein. \"You will not,\" the shaman breathes, forcing his voice into a somewhat pleasant tone, \"or I shall likewise smash this, and you shall never hold it yourself.\"

His gaze flickers briefly to the wild pig. \"Test it now, if you\'re so ready to do so. The arrows are still on the table.\"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Still holding the vial, Barzhaat scrambles up and across to the table, snatching one-handed at the bundle of arrows. \"I have them.\" Her voice is flat, dull. Holding the bundle in her teeth for a moment, she pulls out one single hollowed shaft, then tucks the remainder of the bundle under her elbow. \"Now give me the poison.\" She edges reluctantly back to the Shaman, vial-holding hand extended.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

For a length the Malkog watches, the bottle still gripped firmly, possessively in his fingers. \"You will test it,\" his eyes narrow. \"On the /boar/.\" The Easterner shifts his arm to pluck the vial the Morian holds outward, and he pushes the poison container into Barzhaat\'s fingers in exchange. Immediately afterward, Bagaglok takes a set of paces in reverse, hand now drifting to a resting spot atop his scimitar hilt. He watches, a hint of wariness and suspicion in his expression.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat\'s fingers close round the vial, then slacken again as the scrape of claws against glass is heard. Like Bagaglok she backs off, though not directly toward the cage with the boar (bad associations?). Rather she fetches up against the hide wall of the tent. \"I don\'t think I have time right now,\" she growls in response. \"I will test it when I am ready. Until then - remember our bargain, Easterner.\" Her lips pull back in a snarl as her left arm jerks.

There is a soft ripping as the tip of the arrow in her left hand parts the stitching along the tent wall then, swift and sudden, the she-orc ducks through, her destination the shadows of the night.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The ripping disturbance brings a frown to the shaman\'s countanence, and before he has realized what the arrow has done, the Morian is slipping through the hole. Bagaglok gives a cry, pouncing forward but not quick enough Barzhaat is gone, and the Mordain orc does not make any attempt to pursue -- she is afterall, armed with arrows and poison.

Cursing angrily to himself, the robed uruk turns. There is a squeal from the pig as he slams the cage door shut once more. \"I shall remember, yesss,\" hisses the orc. \"And not just the bargain...\"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat, for her part, slips into the dark, quick and quiet as only a scout can be. Oddly, she does not seem to be heading straight for the Morian camp. Perhaps she is indeed going to test the poison ...