Orcish Hospitality

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Late Night on Trewsday, Day 17 of January.

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Real time is: 16:27:58 MDT on Wed Jan 27 2010.

Western Edge of Mirkwood

Under the half-barren outer eaves of Mirkwood, the late night sky is shadowed a bit. The whole area is frozen in the night cold air.

The edge of the foreboding forest continues on in a north-south orientation, and the wide open spaces of the Anduin Vale lie off to the west.

The stars and moonlight from late night warms the area with a soft pale white light.

Contents:

Imladech

Uruk Camp

Obvious exits:

SouthEast, NorthEast, North, and South

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Cold, bitter, and pitch-black, the night is interrupted with the raucous cries and clamor of gutteral voices. The partially winter-bare trees of Mirkwood seem to frown upon the din of the Mordain camp as it sits beneath their dark and gnarled boughs at the west edge of the forest\'s grasp. To the West, the dwindling foliage foretells the end of the fearsome wood, and to the East, the gloom and darkness roils...a deterrence to fool hardy travelers, and yet a sign of welcome to the creatures of Shadow.

All around, snaga and smaller orcs go about their strenuous tasks, and higher-ranking goblins bicker, gamble, and conspire around the flickering firepits. Slightly isolated from the bulk of the disorderly scene, the short robed form of Bagaglok is perched upon the cold soggy ground in the Shaman section of the encampment. Wirey legs folded beneath him, and arms laid out at either side, the orc sits with his eyes closed. Faint mutterings occassionally part the creature\'s lips, but are inaudible in the noise of the other camp dwellers.

[Imladech(#30819)]

Among this raucus camp of uruk Imladech still somehow lives. His face is drawn and haggard, tiredness the least among his worries as he sits and watches the orcish activity flourish under the cloak of darkness. The human is clad again in his usual cloths, his weapons returned and his bandages removed.

Though he sits to one side the human presently rises and makes his way towards the tents of the Shamans, his steps leading him towards Bagaglok.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Smells drift upon the winter air, and they do not all belong to uruk or olog Bagaglok\'s nose wrinkles a little, as though he has just caught a rather unpleasant or unsettling scent, but the prone creature gives no indication of movement. \"You yet survive, tark?\" the Shaman says, eyes still closed--evidently this is as close to a greeting the human will obtain. \"That is good...\" a pause, and the Malkog lets the silence weigh over the vacinity for a length. \"...you may still prove useful...\"

At last, he casts a yellow gaze up at Imladech. \"Tell me, shara,\" the corner of his lip twitches, hinting at either a sneer, or possible amusement, \"how loyal do you think youself to the Eye? A Blessing...I could give you.\"

[Imladech(#30819)]

While Bagaglok may give little emotion away the tall human does little to conceal his disgust. He meets the yellow gaze of the uruk with his own grey eyes, stern and heavy, \"Beware, uruk. I was chosen by the dread Captain, not by you - and I have proven my usefulness to him.\" The pale features of the traitor-Dunadan scan the camp half in fear, half in expectation, as though the fell spectre might appear.

\"None the less, my usefulness wastes in this camp and I receive no orders.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The smirk is no longer hidden at the Man\'s mention of the High Shrieker and his wary observance of the Mordain encampment. \"Usefulnessss,\" hisses the orc, \"usefulness is as good as one\'s value. It had best not run out, for your sake.\" He gives a nod of his head toward a group of starved snaga struggling to lift enornous piles of firewood. \"Surely, some would find a purpose for you, though it more than likely would entail a spit or cooking pot.\"

\"You want orders?\" Bagaglok sneers fully this time. \"The Lord Shrieker cannot be summoned hither and thither just to instruct his puppet. If you wish orders, I can suggest the most obvious: kill anything weaker than yourself,\" he pauses in feign consideration. \"No, better than that: kill anything that moves for that matter.\"

[Imladech(#30819)]

Imladech snorts in disdain, eyeing the Shaman. \"Such subtle orders, such complex plans. Little wonder the battle went so well for us.\" The former Knight takes a step closer, \"My loyalty is absolute. Have I not proven myself? Now, I could benefit the Eye - but not here. Let me go, and weave my webs, and see if I do not prove myself abroad. Unless there is something for me to do?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The Malkog frowns at Imladech\'s initial words, though the goblin makes no immediate retort, chosing to simply glower for the moment. \"The battle was a setback, a wavering of the Great One\'s servants beneath His will,\" he snorts, dismissing the subject, and rising to stand.

\"You wish to leave? Boredom, I see,\" Bagaglok folds his arms, red sleeves draping down as he studies the Man. \"And how can He trust that you are to continue His bidding once you have escaped? Lies and deceptions...\" he hisses again, and the sentence fades.

\"Hold out your arm, tark,\" comes the sudden command. The voice is barely more than a whisper, and firmly demanding. \"Let us seal your loyalty.\"

[Imladech(#30819)]

\"Hold.\" Imladech says carefully, studying the shaman. \"I have no fear in demonstrating my loyalty, but my usefulness is just this - none this far north know where my loyalties lie.\" He pauses, adding, \"Save the dwarves, perhaps. If you mark me, will it not be obvious to all?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

\"And what secrets would the sign of a scratch or cut reveal? Uruks in these woods? That is no guarded information,\" growls the Shaman, growing a little impatient. From his inner robes Bagaglok slides a sacrifical dagger, and takes a pace forward. \"Make an oath in His name, to His service!\" surprisingly, he thrusts the blade outward, toward Imladech\'s hand. \"I give you the honor of doing this yourself--for you must seal it in blood to reassure the Master of your worthiness for trust.\"

The camp activities go on for the most part undisturbed only a few passersby stop for a brief instance to stare or laugh.

[Imladech(#30819)]

Imladech nods, assuaged. \"Very well.\" He takes the knife, pausing only briefly as though to think, then a smile covers his face and he drops to one knee, pulling the knife through a closed fist without hesitation so that blood flows freely to the ground,

\"Here do I swear fealty and service to Mordor, and to the Eye.\" He says, as though quoting from memory - only tainted then continues, \"My life is his. His fight is my fight, his enemy is my enemy. If I should betray him, may blindness strike me. If I should forsake him, may death take me. So I swear, Imladech...\" Again he pauses, as though thinking, ere smiling again and continuing, \"Imladech son of Umarth\" He says, taking from the tale of Turin. Imladech - The Fallen, Son of Ill-fate.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

This seems to satisfy Bagaglok, who watches closely, eyes glowing as though with hunger or some sort of disturbing religious zeal. \"Good, very good,\" he acknowledges, nodding ere holding back out his own hand. \"Now, shara, the dagger if you will. It is not a gift, and I shall want it returned.\"

[Imladech(#30819)]

Imladech nods, returning the bloodied dagger. His gray eyes scan the encampment, his distain not yet wiped free. \"Tell me, since you have received my oaths. Is there no one else I ought to speak to? Surely the Dark Lord has a place for men such as me?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

\"Hmm,\" the orc rubs his chin, the gesture likewise pretending with the same mock interest as before. \"A place, indeed,\" he chuckles, twisting the Man\'s question as to give an unpleasant answer, \"your place could very well be the Black Pits, or the Halls of Lamentation...but only He knows what shall befall you in the end, I suppose.\"

Then, the fanged grin is gone, replaced by a more serious expression. \"If you desire to gain a place in this camp, or discover how you may better serve His cause, consider meeting with the Vorazg--the Captain, that is.\" Bagaglok gestures to the largest and mort decorated tent in the settlement.

[Imladech(#30819)]

Imladech nods, noting the tent. \"Very well.\" The human returns his attention to the uruk before him, \"Otherwise, I may go? I will not say \'go free\'.\" A wry smile twists his pale lips, \"But my oath is sufficient?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Bagaglok laughs openly now. \"You speak in the right, for truly you shall never be free,\" the Shaman peers upward at the other with his yellow regard. \"Never free, forever subjected to His will. Forever to dwell in fear of His might your oath has sealed your eternal servitude.\"

The dagger the uruk twirls between his fingers, and then raising the wicked blade, he stops to lick the side of it with a black tongue. \"Sufficient,\" agrees Bagaglok after a moment of thoughtful tasting. \"Sweet, and sufficient,\" he adds with a horrid half-smile.

[Imladech(#30819)]

\"Very well.\" Replies Imladech, and anger simmers beneath his words, \"Speak with what arrogance you will, while you may. Was I not spared by the dark captain? Have I not been given his promises? A loyal servant need not fear his master\'s wrath - and we shall see who rises further in favour. Now--\" The Dunadan straightens to his full height, clenching his fist and causing crimson drops to dive towards the earth.

\"It seems to me that I am the son of ill-fate, even as Turin of old. Long has my life wrought darkness to bring me hither but perhaps now I have found my way. I need a new helm, and a steed.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The grin swiftly shifts into a scowl. \"I am not a hound to order back and forth to fetch things,\" growls the creature. \"I should make you fetch your own mount, skai.\" But the irritated rant dwindles as Bagaglok turns to glance around the propped tents and dancing firepits. \"We are not a camp of human scum,\" the eyes return, marred by a frown, \"that at least I hope you had noticed. We do not keep nor ride horses, but rather Wargs. I am sure one of the Riders would not mind securing one you may mount for your travels.\"

There is a new pause. \"As for a helm, that is easily found. If, however, you are willing to delay for a short instance of time, I may be able to endow it with...special properties, shall we say,\" this time a claw is flicked backward to indicate one of the Shaman tents behind him. \"I can place Blessings upon it, or magicks that will give its wearer increased power, or protection--whatever you wish, and that I am able to accomplish.\"

[Imladech(#30819)]

Now Imladech laughs, \"Pride will be our downfall, and only the strongest shall stand. Nay, I will fetch it myself - but a warg will not do anyway. Little good will the secrecy of my oaths do if I am spotted atop one of those beasts. I shall find a horse my own way, then.\"

The human pauses, considering the next words, \"How long a delay? For I am eager to be off - but you tempt me. I would have a black helm, with a dragon rampant in place of a crest - as for what magicks, I know little of such things and will take what I may. But--\" And he fixes Bagaglok with his gaze, \"At what cost, and how can I trust that I will not find myself further cursed instead of blessed?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

A fresh sly grin contorts the Malkog\'s dark features, and he replies, \"Then you will have to blindly trust, won\'t you?\" But just as quickly Bagaglok waves a clawed hand in dismissal. \"Fear not regarding curses,\" he snorts. \"The curses you have now, you must be content to blame on your own fate and choices but naught more do you need fear from me. Surely, if you fall or die from a curse wrought by my doings, the Dark Captain\'s wrath would be...most unpleasant.\" A shudder passes through the orc\'s small frame for a moment.

\"A dragon, yes,\" he nods at last. \"It shall be so. The wait will not be long, I assure you. A few days or so at most. Is that all you require? Or do you want me to fetch you new shoes as well?\" the goblin Shaman sneers disdainfully.

[Imladech(#30819)]

Imladech nods, accepting the assurance. \"A few days it shall have to be, then.\" A smirk sneaks across his features, \"My armour is worse for wear - I stole this leather jerkin from a troll\'s horde, long ago.\" He waves the comment away before more anger can rise, \"I will seek my own armour out, shaman - or whatever you are. Now,\" He looks at the sky, then back to the night-time camp with all its activity, \"You may revel in the dark, but I have need of sleep if there is nothing else to be said.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The look the Fallen Dunadan receives alone conveys that, indeed, the oath-taking and deal-exchanging has reached its conclusion. \"Begone, then,\" answers Bagaglok, \"and sleep with one eye open.\" The uruk turns on his heel, crimson cloth swishing about his form as he moves toward the flap of the tent he had been standing in front of. \"I will find you when it is done, tark,\" the Shaman states, not bothering to glance back over his shoulder. \"Until then--sweet nightmares.\"

With a last snicker to himself, the orc casts aside the opening, and vanishes inside the animal hide shelter. A sickly aroma wafts out from the tent: incense, and a foreboding mixture of honey and death.