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Logs

Sacrifices and Whispers

Tags: Bagurat,  Bugzlok,  Mar'shuk,  Witch-king

Short Summary: Bugzlok aids the shaman Bagurat in a sacrifice to appease the Eye's displeasure. Meanwhile, the newly promoted Mar'shuk follows whispers in the shadows, and is given a new task by the Witch-king.
Date (real-life): 2010-10-02
Scene Location: Mordain camp; north Mirkwood

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Dawn on Monday, Day 30 of January.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 16:36:03 MDT on Sat Oct 02 2010.


Mirkwood

The view is blocked in all directions by towering dark trunks, holding heavy and crooked boughs hight above the ground. The strange ancient forest seems to draw more and more strenght from you as you travel deeper. Beneath you feets the forestbottom is frozen and around you the before dawn winter air is frosty.
To the west is a small gap between the bushes and a well used trail lies towards the towering trees, southwest of you.

A lone star sparkles for a moment between the clouds, but dissapears again as the boughs block the sight to the sky.

Contents:
Dead Elf(#5422)
Witch-king
Bugzlok
Mar'shuk
Uruk Camp(#25568en)
Morian Orc Camp
Orc Raiding Party(#18007n)
Obvious exits:
West, East, NorthWest, and SouthWest

Dead Elf
This was once a fair elven figure, but his face is now paled by the veil of death. His hair and garments are scorched as though by fire, and he bears cruel marks along his arms as if his body has recently been hauled about by unkind claws...


[Witch-king(#28583)]
The hour before dawn is alive with raucous activity among the uruk-hai of the Eye and the Flame, and as drums roll and fires are stoked by hastily hacked logs, they seem in high (if still evil) spirits. It seems something momentous has been planned, for a small stage has been prepared around a large, thick tree stump; runes and foul graffiti carved into it with diligent care.

With the banner of the Lidless Eye hanging down over it from a high bough, it could be considered an altar of some sort. Whatever the case, a sense of excitement and expectation among the throng is palpable.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         One of the Uruks that are in a near frenzy is the Scout Bugzlok, he sits with another Uruk who tattoos crude images upon his arm, tattooing over a foul looking scar, hissing as the Uruk tattoos he says "You be done yet?" the eyes of the scout survey the Urucks who appear in a near frenzy.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Up there, at the front of the over-excited horde, Bagurat stands motionless beside the makeshift altar. She appears to be awaiting something, for the shaman lifts her masked head to peer far over the uruk masses. Her spidery fingers are clenched about the hilt of a rune-adorned dagger. "Bring the victim forth!" she calls suddenly to be heard over the raucous noise.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         As the tattooist finishes his work, he makes his point by burying his crude tool in the arm of the Scout saying "there!" hissing the Tattooist, Bugzlok gets to his feet, kicking mud all over him saying "Well it isnt the worst Ive seen" Spitting upon the ground he makes hiss way over to the crowd of Uruks, pushing his way to the front.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
And from the ranks of the uruk-hai one poor wretch is hefted up onto broad shoulders, as Bagurat's command hollers over their number. One leg has been severed already in battle, and though he screams and shrieks for mercy, the cackles of his brethren betray how little pity he can expect this day. Uncaring hands pass the squirming invalid over the heads of the horde, ever closer to the altar.

The herd must be culled, it would seem.

And all the while, behind the reaches of the firelight, the shadows watch. Those closest to the waiting dark might seem to shiver or shudder as though cold, despite the warmth of the camp-fires.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Pushing his way to the front still is the Uruk Bugzlok, shoving those that do not move easily, finally getting to the front he looks to the alter and smiles evilly, bowing his head to the shaman as he looks to her.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Closer and closer is the poor orc carried, and when he begins to near the front of the throng, Bagurat turns away and steps onto the crude stage. When next she faces the audience again, her mask peers down toward Bugzlok. "Pass the sacrifice to my scout. He will be the one to tie the wretch down on the stump."


[Mar'shuk(#17128)] Still somewhat injured, Mar'shuk seems to detect a crowd gathering. Snorting a little to himself, leaning on his battle-axe, he ambles his way through the crowd, squinting a bit as he sees the shaman and scout at work, pausing on the edge of the crowd to watch, wiping his nose a little with the back of his arm.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
"No! No!" cries the poor chosen victim as he is handed over bodily towards Bugzlok.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         With an evil grin upon his face the Scout waits a moment, then as the Sacrifice near the scout he reaches for it, grabbing him, he grabs the wound where his leg was severed saying "Stop yer squirming.." then slowly he carries the foul sacrifice towards the alter, punching and prodding the wound of the sacrifice as he does so.


[<#28583>]
A hiss of the breeze blows over the uruk-hai, and into the ear of Mar'shuk in particular it might almost seem to carry a message. "... to ... back..."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"Bind him with the rope," instructs the witch-orc, pointing with her free hand at the coils of black cord that have been set beside the tree stump. And then she redirects her attention toward those gathered, and Bagurat's yellow eyes sweep here and there as if searching. "Another volunteer, I need. Who will be brave enough?"


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Nodding his head the Scout says "Yes Shaman." And with more force than is needed he slams the poor sacrifice upon the alter, then grabbing the rope he begins to tie him down. As he starts to tie, the Sacrifice begins to struggle, which gets him a hard punch in the face for his efforts. Methodically the Scout binds the sacrifice.


Mar'shuk perks his ear a little as he hears a voice on the wind.. not a foul voice on the wind mind you.. just.. a voice. Turning, he wrinkles his nose, frowning as he peers back into the crowd. Turning, the Uruk begins to amble through the crowd, taking care not to disturb his wounds as he follows the wind....


[Witch-king(#28583)]
The shadows at the back stir as Mar'shuk approaches them, the chill breeze guiding him perhaps into their depths.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"None to dare?" snorts the shaman disdainfully. "Cowards." Her claw tightens over the dagger's hilt, and she takes a pace closer to the altar as Bugzlok ties the other goblin to the surface. "The army has earned the displeasure of the Master," says Bagurat loudly so that all may hear. "This fool will bear the price of this failure, so that the faithful will earn His favor once more." And then, leaning closer to the bound orc, she hisses into his ear. "Do you wish to live, worm?"

No command does the witch-orc give to Bugzlok yet.


Mar'shuk creeps along slowly towards the shadows, grumbling a little as a chill passes down his spine. Most of the other orcs seem to let Mar'shuk be as he wanders off a little, the lone Logaz squinting into the shadows, this is some foul magic at work!


[Witch-king(#28583)]
With a frantic nod the poor 'sacrifice' turns wild, panicked eyes up to the crow-mask of the Shaman, and cries out at once: "Yes! Spare me, Oh Mighty Shaman! I have given much to the Master's service!"

And meanwhile, at the rear of proceedings, the shadows rise and pool as though welcoming Mar'shuk into their midst. And then, lo! two points of crimson light kindle in the darkness; a fierce, cold gaze looking down to the newly promoted Logaz. "Come forth, my slave," rasps a voice from the blackness. "I have a task for you..."


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Finishing binding the Sacrifice, Bugzlok gives him one more blow to his severed leg for good measure and then steps back, hearing the words of the Shaman he grins and watches closely.. Waiting a moment he shakes his head and then steps forward once again and says "I will volunteer again" then glancing to the crowd "Sense all of you are cowards.." spitting "the very reason our master is displeased.."


Mar'shuk shivers a little, shying away from the two points of light for a moment. The newly appointed Logaz is not yet well versed in the ways of the servants of Sauron, but he is learning a little! "What be that, M'lord?" he inquires in a raspy voice, peering up at the eyes that stare back at him.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"Good, good," laughs the shaman as the scout offers his aid once again, and he wins a nod from her mask. But then that crow-face of doom turns back to glare down upon the lucky sacrifice, and there is a sneer upon the voice that answers. "No doubt you've given much to Him," hisses Bagurat impassively. "And now you must give one more thing: your soul." She lifts the bone-handled knife into the air, where it hovers for a moment, ere plunging like a thunderbolt for the orc's chest.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Watching closely the Scout does not move, merely watches the Shaman perform the sacrifice to their master.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
There is a fresh scream from the 'sacrifice' as the knife plunges into his chest, but with a garbling and a strangling it dies quickly as he does the same. The poor wretch lies limp and bloodied; his breast opened to the ministrations of Bagurat.

A cheer goes up from the watching throng, and drums are beaten with fervor as they cackle and dance about to celebrate the bloodshed.

And all the while, the shadows reach and wrap around the figure of Mar'shuk, the red gaze lingering upon him for a long while ere lifting to take in the sight at the makeshift altar. "Turn your gaze thither," commands the voice from the darkness. "Look upon your Shaman at work..."


Mar'shuk turns a bit, looking back across the crowd towards the shaman at the altar. He speaks into the air of course, presuming that whoever is talking to him can hear him regardless of what he talks to, "Aye, that the shaman that din lead us cross the river proper... ah could do'er job easy."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
As dark blood and other pleasant entrails spew forth from the poor uruk's wound, the witch-orc steps aside and her gaze shifts toward the waiting scout once more.

"There, you see it? Come closer, and rip out his heart. Hold it high so all can see, including the Eye...and then," Bagurat pauses a moment to lift the front of her mask slightly, and she licks the edge of the stained blade, "Eat the heart before its beating stops."


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Quickly as he can he moves to the alter and stands over the sacrificed Uruk.. Grinning evilly he plunges his clawed hand into the chest cavity, and then tugging his arm free, now covered in dark blood. In his hand he now holds the still beating heart of the Uruk. Holding his hand up above his so that all can see the heart, as he holds it high blood begins to flow down his arm covering it.
 
         Then grinning he brings his arm down and begins to devour the still beating heart. Blood gushes from the heart, all over he face and the front of his tattered tunic. Bite after bite he devours the heart. Looking up, his face now covered in dark blood he looks to the shaman with an evil grin.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
In the shadows, the voice of the dark hisses into Mar'shuk's ear and a cold croon betrays his mood. "Could you now? Not without gifts from one such as I, and I do not give them lightly. But you shall have a chance to prove your worth, Logaz.."

Against the firelight, Mar'shuk might notice a black fog seeping into his view, as through wrapping around him.


Mar'shuk grunts, nodding, "Of course not..... it all in the plannin... and how you use your troops..." the Logaz intones, getting a little bit too high on his high-warg it seems.. or high-horse.. whichever seems suitable. The black fog seeping into view and wrapping about him causes him to shudder a little, as if his new clothing does nothing to drive away the chill.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Bugzlok's display is rewarded with another crooning laugh of nasty amusement, and the shaman speaks to him, "Feel the slave's blood add to your veins. His life, his strength, his power. This is what I have offered to the All-seeing One, and what you have now given to Him. The lives sacrificed yield more to His greatness."

Bagurat peers out into the crowd briefly, though she still addresses the scout next to her. "If we can catch some of the leaf-ears alive...we could do the same to them."


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Not wiping the blood from his face, rather he licks his lips and then begins to lick the blood from his hand, a evil grin on his face saying "I would savor every piece of the foul pointy eared rats" Slowly he licks the dark blood from his hand, as it slowly dribbles down the length of his arm.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
The orcs cheer all the more at the gruesome display, and cackle hungrily as they eye their late fellow's corpse. "To the stew pot!" one demands, while another voice barks out in reply: "Why? We've still got that leaf-ear we killed from the tree-tower!"

And as they cry out, at the back the voice of the shadows rasps on to Mar'shuk. "Plans are already afoot, but let us see what you can make for yourself. You are to be my Shaman's bodyguard, and reminder of her tasks. Your heart will be given to me, your mind touched by my arts, and through you she shall know my will..."

As the Nazgul speaks, the black fog grows thicker; the darkness snatching at the Logaz' wits and clawing over his flesh. His wounds are inspected it seems; his skin crawling with sudden sorcery, and into each rend in his flesh the power of Morgul seeps.

[Combat Function Library(#15)] Witch-king tends to the injuries on Mar'shuk.


Mar'shuk nods in response to the wind's words, "It will be done, M'lord." he says, twitching a bit as those shadows circle him and 'heal' his wounds. "She will be reminded o her duties M'lord, not allowed to stray."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The gleam of the yellow eyes from inside the bird-mask seems to indicate a grin given to the scout, and the glint turns all the more wicked at the voices that shout out from the audience. "Then fetch the ablai flith's corpse, and haul it to the pot," answers Bagurat. "The cursed elves don't fall idly from the treetops. It is a give from the Master, for His soldiers to feast upon. Perhaps we have earned His favor anew."

And then she motions to Bugzlok. "Unbind the sacrifice, my scout, and bring what's left of it to the cauldron as well." That said, the shaman turns and starts to descend the stage.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Nodding his head the Scout moves over to the dead body, and retrieving a small dagger he cuts it loose. Licking a bit of blood from the dagger he returns it to his side and then picks the body up and begins to walk towards the cauldron and the cooks. Blood flows from the sacrificed body, all over the ground and all over the scout.


[Witch-king(#28583)]
"Now," says the voice of the Nazgul in the dark, "go to her, and inform her of your new duties..."

And with that the fell presences upon the wind releases Mar'shuk from its clutches, the black fog dissapating.


Mar'shuk snorts a little, the Logaz wiping a bit of snot from a runny nose as he nods, "Yes M'lord." he says, letting the shadows and fog drift away before trudging off through the crowd towards the Shaman and her entourage.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Mar'shuk is just another one of the hundreds of orcish forms gathered, and Bagurat's gaze takes no notice of him as of yet, though her steps lead her nearer to him as she walks through the assemblage.

Meanwhile, the cooks are eagerly preparing the day's promised servings, and one of them guffaws loudly at the sight of Bugzlok dragging the dead sacrifice over. "Plop 'im in there," he says, pointing his dirty claw at the pot he tends to.


[Bugzlok(#11425)]
         Moving to the large pot, the Scout does just as he asks plops the dead body into the pot.. Then slowly he turns about and moves off into the crowd, disappearing into the masses.


Mar'shuk speaks up as the shaman approaches, "Oye! Malkog-Mogburzuul!" he barks, using Bag's official title, "I have words for you." he adds, leaning on his axe a little more, "The Shrieker has commanded me to be your bodyguard... and guide... to remind you of your duties to him."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The use of the official title wins a swift rising of the crow-mask, and Bagurat pauses, focusing her yellowed gaze upon the new Logaz. "Oh indeed?" she replies, her tone having dropped once again to a soft hissing. For a long moment she is silent, canting her head as if in contemplation of the uruk in front of her. And then suddenly, she speaks to the crowd.

"Clear a space for us." Slowly, with purpose, the witch-orc swaps her dagger for the scimitar at her side, and this she points ahead. Back to Mar'shuk she explains, "If you are to be a bodyguard...I require a test of your abilities.

COMBAT - Wielded: Blackened Scimitar


Mar'shuk is still a little wounded, the various nicks and gashes in his flesh healing slowly... without the aid of bandages! However they still leak black blood every now and again, no one's magic is that good! The orc hefts his battle axe, spreading his legs a little, gripping the weapon with both hands, "If you insist...." he says with a snort in reply.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The shaman stands completely still for a moment, ere she steals forward, and her weapon holding hand swings for the Logaz's legs. The motion is still a little stiff, and Bagurat emits a low growling of pain, though steel flies nonetheless.


You half-blindly attack Mar'shuk with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Your attack against Mar'shuk mildly wounds him!


Mar'shuk takes a little nick to the arm, the wounded Logaz is not as quick as he should be! But then again, neither is the wounded witch-orc. Mar'shuk growls, letting his brawn take over rather than his brains as he lashes out with a clumsy slashing attack aimed at the shaman's shoulder.


Mar'shuk attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he misses!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Alas that the attack is clusmy, for wounded as she is, Bagurat manages to side-duck the strike, and her scimitar flicks outward at an angle for Mar'shuk's side. "And what duties has the Shrieker sent you to remind me of?"

You half-blindly attack Mar'shuk with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Mar'shuk dodges your attack.


Mar'shuk sneers as he takes a tiny step backwards, "To carry out its orders, successfully.. failure no longer an option... if ye cannot carry out its commands.... it will find someone who can!" he adds, swinging wildly again, more of a clumsy, awkward chopping motion this time.

Mar'shuk attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Mar'shuk's attack...
...you have 89 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
But this time the axe head serves it wielder well, and it tears through robes easily. There is a metalic thunk as it connects with whatever armors the witch-orc beneath, and a snarl comes from behind the mask at the impact. "I have assured him I shall not fail again," answers Bagurat, her eyes narrowing. "We will cross the blasted river, and fill it with the slain bodies of the stupid albai-rats."

Even as this is stated confidently, her blade flashes outward anew, now aimed for the Logaz's arm.

You half-blindly attack Mar'shuk with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Mar'shuk dodges your attack.


Mar'shuk smirks, "So you say... you must be better prepared for the next attack!" he barks, swinging again, trying to favor one leg over the other.. seeing as the one is still healing from the elvish arrow-hit!

Mar'shuk attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 1 hp's by Mar'shuk's attack...
...you have 88 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Must be better prepared for the next attack indeed! Even on the dueling level, this appears to be needed, for once again the axe scores a new success. The shaman yields a fresh hiss, and she stumbles away slightly, using her left claw to rub at a still sore section of her side. "I'll be ready, garn," curses Bagurat. "And the army had best be prepared as well."

Her dark knuckles paling from their grip on her blade hilt, the witch-orc makes a clumsy lunging motion forward, thrusting with the curved scimitar.

You half-blindly attack Mar'shuk with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Your attack against Mar'shuk mildly wounds him!


Mar'shuk grits his teeth, having let himself become too enamored with his success! "Gargh!" he cries, letting all previous training sessions go to waste as he lets his anger take over, charging the shaman!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The yellow glare inside the eyeholes widens, and Bagurat attempts to twist away; but although her ankle is almost fully recovered, it still protests the sudden movement, and she staggers. With a flurry of darkling fabric, she falls for the ground, letting slip another orcish cursing. "Skai!"


Mar'shuk grins down at Bagurat, "Pretty even, considering." he murmurs, letting the shaman get herself up. "Always good to practice.. at least you're not one of them pointy eared ones with the bows and the spears and the hiding in trees."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"Hrmph," snorts the she-orc, looking up. "Nothing but cowards, hiding in their trees. But we shall knock them down, and draw them out." She claws her way back to her feet slowly, and takes a step backward, lowering her blade. "A good bodyguard you will be," admits Bagurat: the closest she will come apparently, to voicing approval. "The High Shrieker choses well, of course."


Mar'shuk licks his lips, "O course, maybe next time ye'll let the trolls throw rocks at the trees... or use smoke from fires to cover the advance..." he adds, this little former-snaga is full of ideas!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
This wins an unpleasant laughter from the robed uruk, and she nods. "The ologs would make quick work of them, indeed," agrees Bagurat. "Could even shake them out of the branches if they got close enough. But, smoke to cover our assault...that is what we should have done in the first place. A pity even the mountain-rat king didn't devise that plan." She glances Mar'shuk over quickly. "A Sergeant with cunning will get far in the Master's satisfaction."

There is a grating of steel as she stows her blade away. "And so too, do you have my satisfaction, Logaz. I will see you again, but until then..." Letting the words trail off, Bagurat begins to turn away.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat] Unwielded: Blackened Scimitar


Mar'shuk chuckles, "As you said, the Master chooses wisely." he says with a wicked grin, letting the Shaman excuse herself... muttering a little at his new wounds.. he really has to restrain himself sometimes!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
And soon the shaman is gone into the moving tides of Mordain goblins, and not too far away, the smells of the newly prepared meal waft upon the air. The crowd shifts and swells anew, and the camp goes on with its raucous activities.


Date added: 2010-10-02 21:55:57    Hits: 33
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