Orkish Merriment

Old Forest Road, Eastern Edge of Mirkwood

This is open woodland. Various large and small oak and beech trees stand well spaced with grass and low brush growing amongst them. The deeply worn track of the old forest road is visible coming out of a sort of tunnel through the denser trees of the forest proper in the west, but it comes to an end here. A river runs more or less north to south only a few hundred yards away in the east, but the ground between here and there is very soft and marshy. Apparently the road has not been maintained for a long time, or some natural catastrophe has destroyed it. A faint trail seems to run north-south, parallel to the edge of the forest.

The sky is dark with clouds. Little or no moonlight breaks through.

Contents:

Grishnkh

Black_Fgure

Grox

Pishgob

M\'row

Uruk Camp

Obvious exits:

East, South, and West

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Twilight on Hevensday, Day 8 of December.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 21:55:02 MDT on Sun Sep 13 2009.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] Night settles in upon the forest of Mirkwood, and deep within the twisted boughs that line the Old Forest Road revelry is the order of the evening. Orcs and goblins dance to the beat of crude drums, raucous laughter bouncing from trunk to trunk in a small clearing not far from the trail a large cookpot boiling over a hellish fire. The flames do a dance of their own in the cruel eyes of the soldiers of Mordor, and every now and then one of the uruks steals forth to snatch a haunch of meat from the stew.

It seems the uruk-hai are celebrating their latest raid upon Iach Celduin in fine style.

[M\'row(#15492)]

Sitting amidst one of the larger bonfires, M\'row\'s maw waits dripping in grease and blood. Resting against the ground, the great behemoth sways like one under the infulence of too much ale. Tearing a fresh mouthful of meat off the carcass of a late Mirkwood resident, the troll hums and laughs along in the joyous celebration. Off to the side, his axe remains embedded in a tree trunk, ready.

[Pishgob(#24654)]

Sitting on an old branch, Pishgob gnaws on a meat-covered bone, ripping the flesh from it with sharp teeth. She swills some beer, then eats some more, belching in deep content. Her feet are propped, warming, and she seems at ease as any orc can and still live to see tomorrow night.

The mirth of the festivities are not merely for those who participated in the triumphant raid, for there amongst the numerous dancing forms are several rag-clad snaga. Hopping from one clawed foot to the other, one of these Orcs, Bagaglok, stands near the closest bonfire, fanged mouth open in a series of joyous howls. He paused for an instant to skip forward toward the pot and reaches a grimy hand inside the piece of flesh that is pulled out is quickly torn apart by the same dirty teeth.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] And the revelry continues, the red glare of the fire lending a warmth to the clearing as well as light enough to see by.

That is, until at length, a chill spreads upon the air, and all about the edge of the firelight the shadows pool and grow. Darker and blacker than before they cling to the treetrunks and almost seem to slither over the gnarled earth as they close in around the merriment.

[M\'row(#15492)]

Having been several months since the horde had left the realm of Mordor. The olog growls softly, whispering to the sudden chill of the night. \"Hey!\" His voice booms as he shivers a bit, and stands. On his feet, the grotesque beast sways as if a sudden strong wind would knock him back down as both his red eyes, skim the area around the camp.

For a moment, the creeping chill is not noticed by the still devouring snaga then, as the threads of seeping darkness twist around the knarled trees, Bagaglok stops in his feasting and suddeny straightens, peering around the area with uncertain yellow eyes. It appears the scawny creature is debating whether or not the new blackness is for certain or not--perhaps the effects of excessive partying have gotten to his head.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] But nay, there is a darker and more sinister influence at work than over-zealous revelry. The shadows creep and crawl all the more, collecting at the firelight\'s edge until there is naught to be seen beyond the glow. The chill lingers on, though even as it breezes about the scene it does not turn colder. All the same, the drum beats slow and eventually cease as more orcs than Bagaglok seem to realize something is amiss.

It is then that a tall shadow parts from the darkness around them, seeping into view as a figure swaddled in black. It stands before the assembled uruk-hai and the trolls in attendance, a ruby gaze burning within a cowl twisting this way and that, and a low voice hisses out in greeting.

\"A merry group indeed,\" the voice sneers. \"Is our work in these parts completed, then?\"

[Pishgob(#24654)] At the creeping chill, Pishgob\'s head goes up, her nostrils widen. She shivers, but it is a deeper thing than the cold. At the sound of the voice, she shudders again, and pitches forwards from the log, prostrating herself on the ground, the bone still clenched in her teeth.

[M\'row(#15492)] A heavy sigh comes from the olog as he looks down at the shadows swirling about the nazgul. \"Is not done, but is gunna be done!\" The drunken troll slurs, swaying before he falls down to his knees, still taller then the Nazgul, but not by much.

As the reality of the situation and the identity of the night-shrouded arrival dawns on him, Bagaglok lets the remainder of his food flop out of his mouth and onto the ground at his feet. Nervous eyes are cast about, and then the snaga promptly falls to the hard earth as the robed figure speaks. The Orc whimpers slightly, ignoring the cold and the now smashed chunk of meat against his poorly clad body.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] Another low hiss seeps from the cowl in satisfaction as the orcs prostrate themselves, but the ruby red eyes blaze upward to the massive head of the troll. \"Is it now?\" the voice rasps. \"My faith wavers, when seeing precious time being wasted so. Who commands here, among our Lord\'s soldiers?\"

[M\'row(#15492)]

\"Girsh\'nak,\" the drunken troll slurrs and points towards the Vorazg\'s tent before continuing. \"We\'s ain\' seen \'im much lately though.\" The troll purrs and even on his knees he sways, as if a tower ready to fall upon the Nazgul and smother it in rubble.

[Grishnkh(#22300)] Ranks part and black clad Grishnakh walks from the rear. Passing near the troll he hisses, \"Perhaps I don\'t wish you to see me.\" A small entourage accompanies the commander. These drop to a knee before the black clad figure, where the night is even colder.

Grishnakh bows at the waist and rises, \"I command these brutes, eminence. Do you bring orders from our lord?\" Grishnakh stands, facing the specter, 7 or 8 paces away.

Pishgob says nothing she still remains prone, on the ground in worshipful fear.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] The ruby fires turn toward Grishnakh then as the Vorazg speaks, and a barely perceptible nod is given to the bow. \"That I do,\" the voice affirms, and the Nazgul -- for what other creature commands such fear among orcs? -- steps forward a pace, out of the shadow of M\'row should he fall.

\"You are to capture this town of the Dale-men, and burn it to the ground. It is well-remembered in Lugburz what part the hated settlement played when Jared led our forces into this land, and He wishes it razed utterly.\"

The black figure turns about then, seeming to eye each and every prone uruk before him, ere he adds: \"Is this rabble up to the task, or need you more from Pulgorburz?\"

The shivering figure of Bagaglok remains likewise as still, gray head bowed so low that his short snout barely touches the ground. Curiousity getting the better of him for the instant, the Uruk dares to take a hasty peek up at the unfolding scene and watches as Grishnakh steps forward, approaching the wraith.

There is an impulsive movement as a nearby snaga seizes the opportunity to try and snatch the forgotten piece of meat from its flattened place underneath Bagaglok, but the latter shoots his fellow a sharp glare that ends the thievery attempt there is stillness once more.

M\'row sways and falls forward into the dirt. The ground around the troll meets him as he snores loudly in the night, ignoring all else in his drunken stupor.

[Grishnkh(#22300)] Despite the coldness of the night and the chill of the wraith, beads of sweat form in large beads on Grishnakh\'s face. Focusing his eyes on the thing\'s chest he responds, \"We\'ll need to augment the forces at the volcano. Make more of an army out of this.\" The big orc clenches his jaw, \"I have heard reports recently that the tarks have been active in the north. While the west is mired in stalemate and preperation. It is here that we\'ve caught the gazat fools trying to pass.\"

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] \"The forces will come from the forest tower,\" informs the Ringwraith to the Vorazg. \"Those in the volcano are needed elsewhere. I shall ride to fetch them, but be not idle while I am gone. Make ready your plans, and be prepared to strike upon my return...\"

[Grishnkh(#22300)] The vorazg quirks a brow and simply nods, \"We will begin our march to the east at once. If you ready the Gundrulgorob, we will meet them, replenish supplies and move at once. If our master wishes?\"

The loud impact as the unconscious olog connects with the ground draws a small jump from Bagaglok before he returns his attention to the conversers in front of the troops. There is another involuntary shudder as the Nazgul\'s last words seem to continue to hiss in his deformed ears, even long after the fell voice has ceased speaking.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] \"You doubt the command of the Nine?\" demands the voice then, the blackness spreading from the figure as though snakes of shadow the rubies of his gaze flashing crimson.

[<#22300>] Grishnakh\'s left foot tricks back a few inches and he growls in the foulest language, \"\" Fixing his gaze on the nazgul\'s chest, the vorazg bites down hard.

[Black_Fgure(#28583)] A nod from the shadowed form before him, and Grishnakh seems to have satisfied the Nazgul.

\"Await my return,\" it says in parting, ere turning to stride back beyond the glow of the firelight. The blackness claims him once more, and is slow to fade after he leaves. Long does the chill linger upon the air, ere the clearing is returned to normal.

[Grishnkh(#22300)] The commander nods and paces away. He hardly has to say a word as the camp begins to pack up.

As the darkness slowly fades away, the cluster of snaga scramble to their feet in relief that the tension has dissolved. No command is needed from the Vorazg, for the small orcs are quick to busy themelves with whatever tasks are left for the night.

There is a muttered growl as Bagaglok rises, and the gangly creature adds a rough shove to the stupid snaga that tried to steal the elusive piece of meat. There is no further play however, as he hurries onward to carry out the relocation of the uruk camp.