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To catch an elf, part 1

Tags: Bagaglok,  Barzhaat,  Bogak

Short Summary: First scene in a set of flashbacks due to RL reasons; it seems the orcs are still determined to use a net for the catching of a 'leaf-ear.'
Date (real-life): 2010-08-02
Scene Location: east edge of Fangorn
Date (in-game): springtime
Time of Day: dawn

On the Edge of Fangorn
You stand on the border between forest and plain. To the south lies Fangorn Forest with all it's legends and mystery. You can't help but wonder if the legends about Fangorn are true. The trees seem to be examining you as you examine them. Turning towards the north you see streched before you a vast grassy plain...seemingly with no end in sight.
Obvious exits:
 East leads to Along the Edge of Fangorn.
 West leads to Near the edge of the Forest.
 South leads to Fangorn Forest.
 North leads to Long Plain.

The oncoming dawn barely lessens the gloom that broods around Fangorn, and even now the forest sits black and ominous against the rising rays of pre-morning. From the border of the treeline, a shape emerges, clothed in red, skull atop his head. It is the shaman Bagaglok, and as he steps over protruding roots and sharp stones, he glances backward. "Still haven't lost it yet?" he asks, pausing for a moment for another.

Bogak makes a racket as he comes out from among the trees, behind Bagaglok. Slung over his shoulder is what appears to be a tangled mass of makeshift rope, or vines--it's difficult to tell under the current lighting. He comes up beside the shaman and looks around, breathing a little heavier than normal. "Lost what?" he asks. "This net of yours?"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] The shifting mists conceal another skinny figure, this one skulking at the edge of the forest as though uncertain whether the coming daylight or the gnarled boughs present the greater danger. Barzhaat's head comes up like a hound's at the sound of Bagaglok's voice, and after only a brief hesitation she turns her steps that way, her stride purposeful. "Something to do with our bargain, Master of Brews?" she enquires archly, squinting down at the tangled confusion of orc and fibre behind the shaman.

"Yes the net," the shaman answers, turning around to make certain Bogak is indeed still carrying it. "You haven't misplaced -- ah, nevermind." His eyes move from the net, toward the black forest behind, and he frowns at it. "Nasty place -"

But then there is another voice, an all too familiar voice. "Mountain rat.." the words are hissed, and Bagaglok's gaze shifts swiftly, searching for the speaker. "Indeed." Comes the simple answer.

Bogak begins to say something in response, until the third orc steps in. He peers toward Barzhaat and sneers. "What bargain?" he asks stupidly. He turns to Bagaglok and peers suspiciously. "You're still goin' to give me the Bone of the Dead Dwarf... after all this--all this crawling about?"

[Barzhaat(#16260)] It speaks. Barzhaat stares down at Bogak, a cold sneer on her sallow features. "A net," she states, enunciating the words slowly as though speaking to a simpleton (if nothing else, it does make her Northern accent a little less pronounced. "I gain a net. If it does its work well, this one," she nods toward Bagaglok, the motion somehow subdued, "gains an Elf - or what's left of it - and a test of the workings of a certain potion." Clearly feeling that such explanation as has been given is more than she owes, she turns away from the little creature, looking instead to the shaman. A shadow passes over her face - not quite fear, but almost. "Do I get to keep this ...thing... too?" she asks disdainfully.

"Perhaps," the robed orc's mouth twitches in a grin, as he glances back toward Bogak. "You're very interested in it, aren't you?"

Barzhaat's explanation is apparently adaquate, for the shaman doesn't ellaborate once she has finished speaking. Her question, however, elicits an amused laugh. "He's of much more use to the Eye, I'm afraid. You'll have to return to your holes alone, it seems." Bagaglok's tone is laced with a sneer.

Bogak frowns as he looks upon Barzhaat again. "I protect the Pulgor banner," he grumbles. "And soon, I will hear the Voices of the Dead Dwarves," he says, as though trying to confirm his usefulness. "And, I must get back to my flag," he says, looking back over at Bagaglok. His eyes glance down in search of a little bag carried by the shaman, as they so often do.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat's lips pull back from her teeth in a half-snarl at Bagaglok's words; the guttural sound that follows suggests amusement. "I've heard this Eye is ...hungry." And enough has been said on the subject of foreign Gods. Turning to Bogak, she demands, "Give me it, then, if you're too much the spineless little worm to help in its setting." Contempt oozes in each word.

Bogak's eager gaze is noticed, and Bagaglok's hand disappears underneath his robes; when it resurfaces, said bag is clutched therein. With his left hand, he opens it, and tosses something small and white toward the soldier.

And then, his yellow eyes flit back to the Morian, and they are cold. "I don't believe you are in the position to insult the warriors of the Great One...incompetent as some of them may prove to be at times. As for the net," he folds his arms across his chest, "it had best to satisfactory. Searched all through that wretched forest for the material...not the most enjoyable of experiences."

Bogak fumbles with the object tossed at him, and falls to his knees as it escapes his grasp. After a brief moment of desperate searching through dead leaves, he recovers it, and raises himself back up onto his feet. Holding up a little bone before his face, a nasty, greedy grin comes across his face and a sound of true delight comes from his throat. He clutches it in his fist, and with the other hand, unloads the mediocre net upon Bagaglok, looking in Barzhaat's direction. He doesn't say anything, but shakes his fist a little bit, and holds it up to his ear, taking a few steps back as if seeking privacy. Nothing else seems to matter to him at this moment.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Barzhaat's eyes narrow as she watches the transaction between shaman and banner-bearer, trying and failing to discern the nature of the small white object.

When Bagaglok addresses her she retorts, "I am sure that your Eye is served by /strong/ warriors." And this is not one of them, says her gaze as she watches Bogak's single-minded delight in his prize. "Will any of them aid in netting one of those cursed tree-humpers? Perhaps an observer only?" Her nose wrinkles in distaste at that thought. "Or do you not care to know the outcome?" The words end, and she holds her hand out for the net, her yellowed stare managing for once to hold steady on the shaman.

Bagaglok watches the second Mordain orc's simple fascination over the tiny knuckle bone. Judging by the expression that passes his face in that moment, he knows Barzhaat's unvoiced statement to be true -- although he also does not openly admit it.

"He can observe if he wishes," the shaman replies, meeting the Morian's gaze and holding it there. "Help even, if he so desires. As for myself, I haven't forgotten the bargain. I will be there when it is time to go..Elf-hunting.." Slightly reluctantly, he takes the net, and holds it out to the she-orc.

Bogak tightens his grip on the knuckle, muttering something to himself. "I don't hear..." he grumbles. Then, he looks back over at Bagaglok, his patience seeming to get away from him. "I have to get back to my flag. I have things to do." He looks down at the knuckle bone in his hand again. He doesn't seem to be bothered by or even notice what's being said anymore. "Are you coming? I made your net, and I hate being out here in this wilderness without my flag post."

Bogak looks off in an opposite direction at the sound of a distant, loud bird.

[Barzhaat(#16260)] Something - surprise? alarm? - flickers in the Morian's gaze at Bagaglok's promise. All she says aloud, though, is "Good". Her long fingers reach out eagerly for the net; once it is safely in her grasp she turns it this way and that, tugging to test for weakness. At last she states, "Our bargain holds, Master of Brews. So I go now - to scout for the place to spill tree-humper blood. I look forward-"

At the bird-call her head whips round, sending her braids flying out, and she temporizes, "to it." Then, goat-like she is leaping away - away from the boughs of Fangorn, away across the plain, away to the north where lies another feared Wood, less dark but perhaps no less deadly ...

The robed orc is silent as Barzhaat takes the net, and tests it. And then, suddenly she is off, and the sight draws another low laugh. "Gone like the wind, yet again. Hopefully that bargain isn't as shortlived." He squints into the sky for a minute, perhaps seeking out the blasted noisy bird, but then he peers sidelong toward Bogak. "Fine, fine, we'll go back." Bagaglok turns, and takes the first step toward where the camp sits in the distance upon the grasses. "Is the bone to your liking?" He pauses.

Bogak holds his clenched fist with his elbow bent, as though he were holding something that might spill. He begins walking along with Bagaglok, though it is obvious he is anxious to hurry back. "Y-yes," he replies. "But... the Voices are... a little dim. Perhaps if you had another one or two, I might hear what they are trying to say. Er, I mean that I might hear them--a little more clearly."

Bogak eyes the bone, and even tastes it. "Where did you get these, anyway?"

"You mean you want /more/ than this one? I don't remember promising that," the shaman quirks an eyebrow as he walks alongside the other uruk. Finally, he sighs, and opens the bag again and fishes a pair of knuckles out. "Two more, that's it. Or I'll be wanting replacements, and I don't suppose you'd be willing to give up your hands, eh?" The bones are held out for the soldier to take. "They're from a past battle. Taken from the gazat fools...pity I couldn't take them /before/ they died. Might have been more amusing."

Bogak takes the offered bones and, thinking, slows his pace. "My hands? Er... you are saying that any old bones will work?" He frowns, looking down at the knuckles in a new light. He rattles them in his fist near his ear and stops altogether, looking down at them, and glancing back at the Bush he had recently been stumbling through.

"Well, yes, in the end," answers Bagaglok. "If they are blessed correctly, that is. Yes, even yours could be, ah... magical." He observes Bogak's fist-rattling. "Hear anything yet? Perhaps they are merely waiting, and shall talk to you when you aren't expecting it."

Bogak looks ahead and squints his eyes. "Then, perhaps you should give the rest of them to me. I bear the Pulgor banner, after all... if anyone needs guidance from gutted dwarfs, it is me. And, the bag, perhaps." Bogak adds, "If you can bless new ones, that is... how about it?"

The suggestion earns a small hissing sound from the robed orc's lips. "You want all of the bones, fool? What use would they be to a non-shaman? It takes a special skill, a special insight to be able to interpret what they reveal." The bag he clutches closer, more tightly in his claws. His eyes are narrowed.

Bogak, having noticably more courage speaking to the shaman than he had during the first meetings (after all the time spent making the net), scowls, "But, you never said that! You said there are Voices in the bones..." He sputters for a moment, not knowing what to do, and then, suddenly jerks his hand up to his ear. "I can hear them! I can hear them! I have the skill!" He glances sidelong at Bagaglok. He glares, "Anyway, what if you were to be smashed--by one of the olog? It could happen to anyone. Someone--like me, who can hear the Voices, needs to take them when you are gone. You should teach me how to hear the Voices!!" He kicks at the loam, "I made that stupid net for you and your Morian 'friends!'"

The Malkog laughs, although it is not particularly pleasant this time. "Oh did I? I said you could hear them...but /understanding/ them is another matter."

He studies Bogak for a moment, still frowning; but slowly it lessens. "You have the skill, you say?" Bagaglok pauses, tilting his skull-helmed head as if in consideration. "Very well. If you are so eager to prove your..skill, and to get these bones, then I shall show you a secret later. We'll see if you can interpret their messages." Another pause, and then an odd laugh. "I have read the future before; I don't see smashing anytime soon in it."

Bogak gulps, "Er, I don't need a test. I am ready--just show me the secrets." He seems a bit happier now, and moves ahead once again, "I need to get back to my flag. I need to get back..." he rattles the bones against the side of his face again and tries not to break into a run in his excitement.

The shaman, meanwhile, doesn't run to keep up. "That darn flag," the orc says to himself, looking with raised eyebrows once more after Bogak. "I'll share the secrets in the camp, I suppose," he calls louder. "You've seen my tent. You may seek me out there."


Date added: 2010-08-02 21:53:25    Hits: 120
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