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Logs

Scouting and Finding

Tags: Bagurat,  Graim

Short Summary: The dwarf Graim scouts into Mirkwood north of the Road. When he emerges, he brings a prize, led on a rope.
Date (real-life): 2010-10-19
Scene Location: North Mirkwood

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 warm and muddy and around you the nighttime spring air is brisk.
The fragile circle of your light seems to fade and thin in the darkness of the wood. To the west is a small gap between the bushes and a well used trail lies towards the towering trees, southwest of you.

It is raining. You can hear the raindrops fall all around you and you are soon drenched. The muddy earth is gathering water.

Contents:
Graim
Obvious exits:
West, East, NorthWest, and SouthWest


[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Nighttime on Hevensday, Day 21 of March.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 14:30:58 MDT on Tue Oct 19 2010.


[Graim(#20753)]         While sun may not penetrate the branches of Mirkwood (especially at night), rain does. It drips, large, fat drops, from the leaves and branches above, falling to those below; and beneath them, the ground. And those moving through the forest. For example, the armed and armoured Dwarf slowly moving along, a hooded lamp in one hand.

        He peers about the forest from beneath the visor of his helm, playing the narrow and diffuse beam of light from the lamp to and fro, murmuring quietly to himself.

[+LIGHT:#20753] Graim lights lamp.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Not too far ahead of the Dwarf and his searching lamp light, there is an assortment of white objects differing greatly in sizes. Scattered about the base of a gnarled an ancient looking tree, it is a morbid collection indeed: these are bones, ranging from tiny knuckles up to good sized skulls.

Any other signs are difficult to make out in the dark, and the mud. But perhaps the marks of clawed feet could be discerned, as well as an unpleasant smell.


[Graim(#20753)]         As the light gleams off the white objects, the Dwarf pauses the beam, a frown beneath his visor. He slowly approaches them, slipping his mace from his belt; his shield remains upon his back. What could be a disgusted sound comes from the Khazad as the smell reaches him, and some gutteral, rumbling word is spit out.

        He straightens, turning slowly around to sweep the surrounding trees.

[Combat(#13388)] Graim pulls the Mace of the Lost Prince from his belt, its gemstones gleaming brightly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Alas for khazad noses, for the smell does not seem to be on the verge of dissipating. If anything it increases, even as Graim pulls free his mace.

A section of undergrowth rustles off to the left side, ere it is parted by dark, spidery-fingered hands. Hands with claws. There is an audible hissing sound as the black robed creature emerges, and the bird-mask covering her face is already directed toward the bright glowing source of light. There is a momen't pause, and then a laugh. "Come to contribute?" Bagurat asks, pointing at the bones; her other hand is swiftly wrapping about the hilt of a scimitar.

COMBAT - Wielded: Blackened Scimitar


[Graim(#20753)]         As the undergrowth rustles, the Dwarf turns, setting the lamp down and swinging his shield off his back. Face concealed by visor, it is unclear what he is thinking (not that Dwarves are easily read to begin with) of this bird-masked, black-robed thing.

        "I was thinking rather of using your bones for my dagger hilt," replies Graim the Younger, Chief Master Veteran of the Zirak and caravan leader. "Troll bone is hard to find, while orc-bone is plentiful."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The crow-mask tilts slightly, and then the shaman emits a low snort. "What about Elf-bone? It's become much more plentiful of late." Bagurat points again at the collection at the base of the tree. "See those? Guess what they are?" The orc takes a step sideways, yellow eyes watching the bejewelled mace warily, and her fingers curl tighter about the handle of her own weapon.


[Graim(#20753)]         "We are not at war with the Elves," replies the Dwarf coolly, shifting to keep the orc in front of him. "And if were one to see my dagger with Elf-bone hilt, no doubt they would slay me and then blame it all on the Dwarves, like they usually do. It makes me yearn for the clan-lands back east, where I am sure they do not have this problem."

        "Orc-bone, however... everyone can appreciate that."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"They'd slay you?" repeats the witch-orc, her voice one of mocking concern. "Well, soon enough you won't need worry about the pointed-ears...we'll take care of them all. Rip them out like weeds and toss them in His fire."

The dwarf's last comment earns another laugh, though this time it is laced with a scowl. "I appreciate orc-bone where it belongs. Inside here," Bagurat gestures to herself. "And not in the grimy little hands of your kind." Without warning, she slips forward at an angle, bringing out the goblin-blade for Graim's flank.

You attack Graim with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Your attack against Graim mildly wounds him!


[Graim(#20753)]         A grunt comes from the Dwarf as the scimitar slams into his mail and he moves away. "Orcs should not play with Dwarves," rumbles Graim before he brings up his shield and steps towards the orc, glittering mace swinging for the bird-helm.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and you parry his attack with your Scimitar!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
A jerked motion of the wrist raises the scimitar in time to counter to swing of the mace, and the latter is batted away almost lazily. "We don't play with dwarves," says the shaman, and the gleam in the eyeholes narrows in a frown. "We kill them," the tone shifts into nasty amusement. "Here, let me show you."

Down flashes Bagurat's weapon again, now aimed for shoulder.

You attack Graim with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         Nimble Dwarves can be, as seen with Graim. He ducks out from under the scimitar's blade, moving to the orc's side. "Hmm. You seem to be doing a poor job of it. And let us not forget the last time the orcs went to war against Dwarves..." That said, he swings the mace at Bagurat's side.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"But this isn't orcs against dwarves," growls the orc as she twists aside from the strike. "This is one on one...in the gloom and doom of Mirkwood, trespasser." Crouching a little, Bagurat takes a lunging step closer, the edge of the curved sword sweeping upward now for Graim's arm.

You attack Graim with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         "And yet you still fail to do much," replies the Dwarf placidly, bringing his arm back and out of range of the scimitar. "One wonders how you were able to take the mansions of the Longbeards." With that, he swings his mace again for the orc's head.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 25 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 65 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
"You --" the shaman begins to retort, but it quickly contorts into a snarled cursing of pain as the mace connects. "--Skai!"

The blow catches the side of the neck and head; with a clatter of metal the crow-mask is knocked off and flung a good foot or two, ere it plops into the mud beside a bush. The witch-orc herself tumbles backward, though she manages to grab at the black bole of another tree with her claws to prevent herself from falling. Bagurat pauses for a pant and one more curse, before she dips forward anew. Her revealed face furrowed in anger, she slashes for that offending weapon hand.

You attack Graim with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         The Dwarf is already moving, thus neatly outside the arc of the cruel scimitar. He is silent, though if one could see through the visor there would be a smirk upon it. He steps forward, then, closing the distance, and swinging his weapon at the orc's knees.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The smaller the orc, the nimbler it usually proves to be -- and so it is that Bagurat leaps over the head of the mace as it comes forth. When her feet have found ground, she is snaking her way to the left in an attempt to aim at the khazad's other side. Out sails the black scimitar.

You attack Graim with your Scimitar...
[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
Graim dodges your attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         Often, one does not consider Dwarves nimble, but Graim is certainly proving so. He again moves out of reach of the orc's weapon before closing the distance once more, swinging his mace at Bagurat's weapon arm.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he misses!


[Bagurat(#24847)]
But the weapon arm does not wish to be hit, and the witch-orc is fast enough to yank it out of the way. Her foot crunches over something, and she risks a glance down at it, frowning. Then Bagurat hurriedly stoops over, snatching with her free claw in the grass and mud. When she straightens again, there is a long femur-bone clenched between her fingers.

"Catch!" shouts the shaman, tossing the skeletal object at the dwarf and giving a low crooning chortle to herself. "It's cursed." She takes a step backward, rubbing at her neck.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
You forego your chance to attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         Graim bats the femur-bone away with his shield, snorting. "If all the curses of orcs counted for else but naught, then the Longbeards would be long dead." After batting away the bone, he simply strides forward again, swinging his mace again for the orc's head.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 12 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 53 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Another bash over the previously injured head and neck earns a fresh spitting and hissing. Black blood has begun to soak the collar of the robe.

"I'll curse you dead, if you want to see a real curse," mutters Bagurat, and she kicks one of the skulls at his lower knees before following after it with a swing from her blade.

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


[Graim(#20753)]         "I suppose you were right," rumbles the Dwarf, dry amusement in the tone as he drops his shield, a dull ringing as the skull hits it, and steps back out of range and way of the scimitar. "It /was/ cursed. But the curse was upon /you/." Shield held before him, he steps forward again, mace glittering in the lamp light as it, once more, goes for Bagurat's head.


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 10 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 43 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The words win a blank glare from the orc initially, but then that gaze darkens into something else. Frustration? Fear? Whatever is it, it turns into a new snarl of hate and pain as the mace scores yet again.

Bagurat stumbles away, and there is a whirling of fabric as she spins round, moving to dart behind the closest tree.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
You forego your chance to attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         With a snarl, Graim steps after her, swinging his mace to clip her legs. "You are /not/ getting away, little orc. Cannot have you running to your masters, can we?"


Graim attacks you with his Mace!...
...and he hits! Ouch!

ARB: You've been injured for 14 hp's by Graim's attack...
...you have 29 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
There is a sharp exhale of breath as the dwarven weapon meets with orcish legs, and Bagurat falls with a splat into the muddy forest floor. She lashes the air blindly with the scimitar, squirming to claw herself to her feet if Graim does not act fast enough to prevent it.

[Combat(#13388)->Bagurat]
You forego your chance to attack.


[Graim(#20753)]         "Oh, no you do not!" Growls the Dwarf as he steps forward again, swinging his mace at the orc's weapon arm, or the weapon itself, while also trying to plant a foot upon Bagurat's back to pin her down.

ARB: Graim has "passed" on his turn to attack.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
With a loud grating and clattering, the scimitar is batted from its owner's clawed hand, and it traces thin gashes in the soaked earth before it lands on top an arm-bone about five feet beyond.

The witch-orc meanwhile has ceased her slithering-escape attempt now that there's a heavy dwarf boot to hinder it. Aside from the panting her scrawny form gives, she does not move. All about her neck is a sticky mess of black blood. "Let me go," Bagurat does manage to hiss.


[Graim(#20753)]         "I think not," rumbles Graim. Slinging his shield onto his back, he digs around in a pouch on his belt before taking out a length of sturdy dwarf rope. "No, I think you are more valuable alive and in /my/ keeping, orc," rumbles the Dwarf; he levels the mace at the back of Bagurat's head. "We need information... and you are going to give it."


[Bagurat(#24847)]
The shaman's spidery fingers clench in the mucky ground, but she remains still otherwise. A venemous hiss emerges in a gurgle, and turning her head, Bagurat spits a mouthful of mud from it. "What information? I'll choose whether or not I give it to you." Despite the words, the tone has lost it threatening edge.


[Graim(#20753)]         "Oh, you shall give all," replies the Dwarf, mild voice threatening. "But not here. No, there are others that shall want to question you, orc, not just I." He leans down, putting more weight upon his foot. "No trying to escape, or my mace will crush your head. Understood?"


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Bagurat gasps as more pressure is applied upon her hunched spine, and she grits her teeth. Only a growling is offered in answer, seemingly to be her acknowledgement, however unhappy it may be.


[Graim(#20753)]         "Good," says Graim simply. The mace is slid into his belt before he quickly ducks down, roughly grabbing the orc's hands; positioning them behind her back, the Dwarf quickly and thoroughly ties them with the rope, leaving enough length for him to keep a hold of. "Very good," rumbles the Dwarf as he straightens back up.

        He walks to his lamp, collecting that, rope going taught as it reaches it's limit. Turning around, he nods. "Right. Off we go." That said, and tugging on the rope, he walks back the way he came, pausing briefly to grab the bird-mask from beside a bush.


[Bagurat(#24847)]
Far less enthusiastic, understandably, Bagurat manages to pull herself to her knees, and then her feet. "I'll be wanting that back, gazat fool," the witch-orc scowls as Graim fetches the mask, and she trudges after him, muttering under her breath.


[Graim(#20753)]         "Then you shall wait long," tosses the Dwarf over his back before he trudges on through the woods, westwards.

 


Date added: 2010-10-19 19:43:40    Hits: 61
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