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Outpost Ambush

Tags: Farak,  Formin,  Gunk,  Morlim,  Sachem,  Vrugak

Short Summary: A troop of Morian orcs creep up upon the Beorning outpost, and the group of dwarves rebuilding it.
Date (real-life): 2010-08-02
Scene Location: Beorning Outpost, Anduin Vales

Outpost in Ruins
Halfway through a reconstruction effort, the Beorning people's outpost is rising from its own ashes. The wide dirt ramparts remain from before, the sturdy stone base also still suffices. But where the old fort was build from head to toe with Dwarves joinery, it appears that great logs are the choice this time around for the walls, due to their availability on the mountain's slopes, the expediency with which construction can then take, and the possible lack of Dwarven labor and guidance to effect more lasting and strong stone joinery.

Obvious exits:
 Northeast leads to Anduin Valley - West of the Carrock.
 North leads to Vales of the Anduin.
 Northwest leads to Vales of the Anduin.
 Storage Shed leads to Storage Shed.
 Headquarters leads to Headquarters.
 Barracks leads to Barracks.
 Southwest leads to Western Vales of Anduin.

===== +MTIME =================================================================
IC Time: Late Night on Sunday, Day 29 of July. The moon is last quarter
Current Balrog Mood: Low Simmer. Tread with caution!

It is sometime during the short night of summer that a small party of Orcs makes its way south and east from the mountains. They turn right and come down through the vale towards the black outline of the outpost against the night sky. Their leader, a great uruk of unusual size, turns this way and that as he sniffs and peers ahead at the Beorning fort.

[Morlim(#20753)]        The fort is not empty. Though it is ruined, there are those willing to rebuild it and 'tis they that are in the Outpost. Dwarves from Erebor, having spent time gathering materials, working out details with the Beornings and beginning the initial steps. And a recently reinforced, in a minor way, party of Dwarves at that, for some from the recent caravan have come to take a look and spend the night.

        Joy at meeting fellow Dwarves has died down and several Dwarves are sleeping, all but those upon guard or just up. One of the Dwarves that is awake is the Chief Master Veteran and Engineer Morlim, responsible for the Dwarven effort here. Armour ringing quietly as he walks, and war hammer upon his shoulder, the Zinbar sighs quietly as he looks out into the night; fires behind him banked low.

An armored orc trails some ways behind the great war captain of his party. He weight of his protection stoops him over while the war hammer he carries seems almost light as a feather, carried by strong hands and arms. In the darkness, he presses one of this nostrils closed and blows a thick glop of snot out of the other.

Still more black orcish shapes steal through the night after their leader. One of these is a long-limbed scrawny looking she-orc with pale crimson eyes that are filled with malicious expectation as they peer out into the darkness. In her spidery fingers a black bow is clasped. A sickly red tongue licks at the creature's lips.

The war captain of the Orcs is Sachem, the chief jailor of Moria and now free-roaming chieftain ever since the old gothshaka met a dubious end at the hand of the cursed Orcs of the Eye (or so it's said in the mines). His war party can't number more than twenty Orcs, but they work their way along, intend upon a segment of the wall ahead that looks north. Sachem holds his battle axe ready as he stops and glances at Gunk and then Vrugak. "Gotta get close. Be ready!" he hisses.

[Formin(#26827)] One of the recent arrivals is Formin, an older dwarf with one glass eye and one nigh unstopable mouth. Well, nearly unstoppable. He rests with his back proppped up against a short wall half of stone and half of wood. A small lantern sits besides him and he hums quietly to himself, but for now he has somehow managed to stop talking. Indeed, he looks almost bored and a touch tired, but mostly bored. His arms rest on his chest, but in his hands the silversmith holds what appears to be a small silver handle, of the like usually attached to ceremonial daggers. He seems to be inscribing a very fine few lines of words to it.

Up come Formin's eyes when the Chief Master Veteran in charge of this outpost's rebuilding walks near to him. "Restless, Chief?" says Formin simply.

Gunk finishes clearing his nose and wipes it with a sleeve already crusty from dried snot dating back years. Hefting his war hammer, he nods in Sachem's direction and glances at the she-orc. Each of his steps is lighter now and he raises himself up to his full height, though he is still short.

[Morlim(#20753)]        "Mmm," comes Morlim's voiceless agreement to Formin's question, pausing before the silversmith. "Aye, restless. 'Tis a good time for war, the summer, and I do not like a partially defended position. Had I more backs, I would have made more progress on the ditch and palisades, but we have been spending time collecting stone for the walls. Our stone mason is quite exact in his expectations and requirements."

        The Engineer lets out a quiet sigh, shaking his head with a quiet ringing of mail. "But, I shall keep my promise to the Beornings and rebuild this outpost. It was a shambles when we arrived."

Looking from one to the other and then the others in his band, Sachem nods and then raises his weapon over his head for all who follow to see, as if in signal, as he raises his voice.


Vrugak maintains her silence, instead letting a sharp dip of her head toward Sachem; Gunk's glance is met with a excited grin of hideous fangs; clearly, the though of dwarf for dinner is a good one. Slowly, carefully, a dark-flected arrow is drawn and fitted to the bow...

And then, the cry comes, and stealth is flung to the side. "HAI! HAI!" The call is repeated.

         Another of the recent arrivals is the Dwarven Priest Farak, as with his position he is dressed in his Crimson Robes, though it is apparent he wears armor underneath, upon his back is a small shield with the crest of clan Mazarbul, hanging at his him is a silver mace.

 Slowly the Priest approaches the Silversmith and Engineer though saying nothing he simply quietly approaches with his hands together and half grin upon his face.

Gunk raises his own weapon up over his head and cries out, "HAI! HAI!" Standing square to the outpost of the dwarfs, this orc does not bother to conceal himself. His armor glints a little in whatever light pierces the night. His war hammer hits his shield and he repeats the battle cry!

[Formin(#26827)] "So I've heard," Formin nods, though he makes no effort to rise from his resting position. "Ah but tis a difficult place to defend even in the best of circumstances, I'll wager. Still, better to do it right than rebuild in a few years time. Or a few months. Weeks, even." He lets that thought drift off into silence, though he sounds distinctly more jesting than despairing. And with that silence he seems about to leave Morlim to return to his thoughts, save that a cry suddenly rends the night air.

Although not the sort for quickness of any sort, Formin does suddenly rise to one elbow with a look of alarm, brows raised. "I suppose that isn't the wind," he mutters and then he is coming fully to his feet, a nod spared for Farak. "Ah yes, probably not," he adds, when more battle cries follow the first. "Well, well." He unsheathes the short broadsword at his side and reaches down to retrieve a smal round shield at his feet.

[Morlim(#20753)]        "Aye. I plan to make this a place where orcs break upon it like water on rock," replies the Chief Master Veteran, nodding to the Priest as he approaches. Whatever else might be said, though, is cut off by the orcish battle-cries in the night. When Morlim next speaks, he bellows.

        "TO ARMS! Dwarves, to arms! To arms!" The slumbering Dwarves, those not jolted awake by the battle cries, are now awakened by the Chief's bellow or the jabbing feet of their comrades. "Form ranks!" Orders the Zinbar, but he himself does not; no, hefting his shoulder from his hammer, he runs to the wall to see just what force they are facing.

         Upon hearing the battle cries Faraks hand goes strait to his Mace, grabbing it firmly with his one hand and removing his shield from his back and adorning it upon his other. Looking to the Silversmith as the Engineer runs to the walls and making his way over saying "It looks like another late night Master Formin."

Sachem rises up on his legs and starts loping towards the wall ahead, leading other orcs bearing crude ladders of fresh wood lashed together with leather thongs. "We'll take 'em for the Flame!" he cries. 'Hai, hai, hai!' They are now only a few furlongs to the wall.

A few furlongs maybe, but it is an easy distance for the flight of arrows. Even now, Vrugak's haggard fingers are pulling back the string, and the goblin pauses long enough to peer down the shaft's length. The fingers slip, and there is a sharp twang. The dart flies through the air at an arc, to lang whither it will among the ruins ahead.

[Formin(#26827)] "Oh indeed!" Formin replies to Farak, sounding for all the world as if they are merely out for a midnight walk. "Though, do you know, I think perhaps these -particular- beasties mean to do more than threaten. Unless that endearing cry is in fact the goblin equivalent of 'join us for a pint!'"

And then the silversmith grows more serious and reaches out to put a hand on Farak's arm. "Stay for a moment though, cousin. They mightn't yet break upon this wall, but they may at the least crack some. No need to let them have us in the open." And then Formin finally looks out into the night, to spot the still vague shapes of their attackers. He gives a whoop and clangs his blade against his shield. "Aye, do come on then, my lads! We're ripe for roasting, if you think you can poke us hard enough!"

Gunk lopes behind two greasy little snagas bearing one of the crude ladders. The wall is close now and the orc chokes up his one handed grip on his war hammer. "Hai! Hai! 'resh dorf meat for the 'astest orc!"

[Morlim(#20753)]        The Chief Master Veteran ignores the flight of arrows, pulling his dragon-masked helm from his belt and placing it upon his head. He does not retreat back off the wall, merely raising his hammer in challenge before levelling it at the approaching orcs and goblins. "Come! Come and die by my hammer!" Shouts the Engineer at the foe.

        The other Dwarves quickly form into tight, ordered ranks, shields clashing as they are locked together. The last few throw logs on the fire, casting light in the ruins of the outpost.

[+LIGHT:#26827] Formin lights campfire.

         Listening to the words of Formin, Farak nods his head and says "I pray the Makers has given us the strength" that said he is silent a moment before shouting to the enemy "I pray you are good with your Maker foul beasts, for tonight you shall meet him when, for the Dwarves are tired of your presence here and will crush you this night."

"It is you, short-legs, who'll meet your Maker tonight, hai, hai!" the she-orc's mouth pulls into a snarl at the enemy's words. Squinting through the growing lights from the ruins, Vrugak fires a second barbed arrow, ere slipping off flat-footed after the rest of the Morians.

Suddenly the orcs are crossing the perimeter defenses outside the wall, only a stone's throw from the actual structure of the fort. As it was earlier noted by one of the dwarves, the defenses are old and damaged and easily traversed. Sachem and his gang of ladder bearers are through within moments and the wall (or what's left of it) lies directly ahead! "Almost there! Don't stop 'til you see the whites of their eyes! HAI!"

[Formin(#26827)] "Ho ho, now I must think up some good threatening battle cries myself," Formin mutters to himself. "I suppose mentioning roasting dwarves is not terribly encouraging. Alas." And then he straightens, grinning madly down at the dashing orcs. "Well then, I'll borrow one. Baruk Khazad, you terribly unbright fellows, Baruk Khazad!" With a clang, an arrow crashes against the top of the silversmith's shield and bounces back to the ground below the wall. That seems finally to stoke something of anger in Formin. "Say now, come a bit closer if you want to die! This arrow nonsense is...nonsense!"

The snagas reach the outer wall of the Dwarven outpost and swing their latter up until it clatters against the battered stone. Already Gunk is clambering up, quick as a squirrel up a tree trunk. His beady eyes glance left and reight at the top of the wall, daring one of the Dwarves to challenge his ascent. "Hai! Who dies 'irst? Hai!"

         Raising his own shield just in time to deflect the arrows as they rain down the Priest looks to the Silversmith with a grin and says "It looks as if you are running out of insults cousin.." peering from outside his shield the Priest shouts to his fellow Dwarves "Remember, the Maker has given us the strength to crush these beasts!"

[Morlim(#20753)]        The Chief Master Veteran's gaze quickly falls upon the orc Sachem, the apparent leader of the attack upon the Outpost. He levels his hammer in the orc's direction. "Come, base fiend, and die by my hand!" The challenge is shouted by the Engineer, seemingly quite confident that the other Dwarves shall deal with orcs who reach the wall first.

[Formin(#26827)] "Me? Hah, -never-!" Formin cackles dramatically in response to Farak's comment and the silversmith grins widely. And as a squirrelly little orc clambers over the first ladder, Formin's grin turns to mock seriousness. "Oh by all means," he shouts at Gunk, "that should be you, my lad. Thank you for offering!" And thus does the silversmith charge the gray, flat-nosed orc. "Khazad ai-menu!" Formin's short broadsword swings up and over, aiming a savage hack at Gunk's shoulder.

Formin attacks Gunk with his Short Broadsword and moderately wounds him!

A voice carries from above, that of the engineer, and Sachem snarls. If orcs can feel any joy, he is feeling it now as the bloodlust comes upon him. The ladder is moved into place and Sachem climbs more slowly, but with no less agility than Gunk, one hand on the rungs and the other holding his great battle axe ready. At last, he comes to the top and onto the battlement. "Your hand, runt? You're not even big enough to feed a pit fulla snagas!"

Gunk's fury is genuine! He has not even reached the top of his ladder and the Dwarven broadsword cleaves into his shoulder. Chinks of armor fly and dark blood sprays! The Orc screams in feigned agony and then sniggers as he brings his war hammer to bear.

"I's eats you alive 'or that, dorf-meats. Alive! ALIVE! HAI!"

The Orc swings his hammer over his head for momentum and then aims squarely for Formin's own head.

Gunk attacks Formin with his War Hammer, but he misses by an arm's length.

[Morlim(#20753)]        "You shall not defile my works further, creature," snarls Morlim in turn as Sachem reaches the battlement. "Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!" Shouts the Engineer, voice carrying quite well over the battlefield, as he swings his hammer at Sachem, aiming to take out the orc leader's knees.

        The other Dwarves now, march towards the wall, eager to weigh in and spill the blood of their ancient foe.

 Morlim attacks Sachem with his War Hammer, but he misses by a handspan.

With the ladders in place, it doesn't take long for Vrugak to scamper up the closest one; and there she waits at the top, dropping into a crouch on the wall, legs tensed as though a serpent to strike. The bow is traded for a black scimitar, and this is brandished menacingly. The crimson gaze espies Farak, and the orcish lips curl into a nasty grin. "Do you taste good too? Shall we find out?"

Other orcs are now scrambling up the ladders to join in with their leaders. They are a small number, but they keep their wits about them as they stick close to the ladders and their way of escape should the tide turn against them!

Sachem grins at Morlim as he swings and misses. "Hai!" is his only reply as he takes his axe with both hands and chops at Morlim's right arm.

Sachem attacks Morlim with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

[Formin(#26827)] "Oh how dreary," Formin mutters as if he might roll his eyes at the thought of being eaten alive. But instead he is forced to skip hastily backward to avoid the swing of his opponent's heavy war hammer. "That was alive, was it? I can see you're well on your way there, eh!" Again the silversmith clangs his blade against his shield and rushes Gunk again, this time his blade licking out to the side, swinging for the goblin's elbow.

Formin attacks Gunk with his Short Broadsword and lightly wounds him!

         Seeing the Orc Vrugak the Dwarven Priest rushes in her direction, weapon and shield at the ready shouting "Youll never find out Beast, for your skull shall be crushed under my mace soon enough.. " Once within striking distance the Priest shouts "Baruk Khazad!!" as he shouts he he swings his Mace aimed at the Vrugaks head.

The sun flashes brightly on the horizon. Night gives way to morning.

[Morlim(#20753)]        The Engineer's missed attack over-extends him, and his arm is quite an easy target for the orc leader. Mail is broken and blood flows; Morlim grasps his hammer with both hands, now, a hiss of pain escaping from him. "Bleed, creature!" Hisses the Zinbar as he swings his hammer for Sachem's weapon arm.

Morlim attacks Sachem with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!

"I think not," answers the she-orc venomously, trying to duck out of the way of the oncoming mace. The motion almost sends her toppling from the top of the wall, but her claws scrape and grab on it and prevent her from falling. The scimitar flicks outward for the dwarf's arm, as Vrugak licks her lips once again. The war cry is met with her own. "Hai, hai!"

[+LIGHT:#26827] Formin douses campfire.
[+LIGHT] Formin's campfire flickers and goes out.

Trapped at the top his ladder by Formin's deft strikes, Gunk snarls. "Dorf, be careful. Yur tongue cuts deeper than yur blade!"

Climbing up as far as he can go, the Orc lifts his hammer up and it plunges down at Formin for a killing blow.

Gunk attacks Formin with his War Hammer, but he misses by a mile.

Sachem growls as the scent of blood reaches his nose from his enemy! He starts forward for another attack when the hammer lashes out and smacks his arm. "RUNT! You'll burn alive over the fire for that! Oh yes! The Flame'll tickle you until you beg to die!" He starts forward and hacks at Morlim's shoulder.

Even as the combatants fight, the sun is already rising swiftly, inaugurating a new summer day!

Sachem attacks Morlim with his Battle Axe and badly wounds him!

         His blow just missing, the Priest raises his shield just in time to deflect the attack of the she-orc, side stepping quickly he once again presses the attack, forcefully swinging his Mace once again, though this time aimed at the she-orcs sword arm, grunting as he does so.

[Formin(#26827)] A killing blow that does no killing, it would seem. Formin again skips back a step and avoids the deadly swing of Gunk's hammer. "Oh why thank you, my lad!" he grins back at his attacker, having to look up now that Gunk has climbed to the highest part of the ladder. "Ah but do come down from there, won't you? I don't bite, you have my word!" As he says this, he steps forward again and thrusts upward with his sword. Although more given to hacking and slashing than stabbing, the blade is nonetheless just long enough to reach Gunk's thigh, for which it aims, if the orc is not fast enough.

Formin attacks Gunk with his Short Broadsword, but he misses by a mile.

[Morlim(#20753)]        Again, the Engineer cannot move out of the way in time to avoid Sachem's strike, so he bears it with Dwarvish stoicism, a growl of pain hissing between his teeth as his mail is broken and blood flows once more. "You shall bleed out long before I am upon any fire of yours, cur," replies the Zinbar, swinging his hammer to strike at Sachem's head, right on the nose. Literally.

Morlim attacks Sachem with his War Hammer and mildly wounds him!

This time the mace hits true, and there is a sickly crunching noise. Vrugak lets out a squeaking yelp, and pulls the battered arm against her side. The scimitar almost falls from her fingers, but quickly she snatches it up in her left claw.

The orc spits at the ground, snarling toward the priest. "You'll pay for that, filth. I'll make you squeal first!" Clumsily, the left arm swings the goblin-blade for any bodily part within reach.

"Hai," Gunk cries with glee as the Dwarf's stab misses. The Orc drops down from the ladder to the wall. Blood seeps from under his armor and drips from his wounded arm. But, for now his strength is still true enough and he approaches.

"Dorfy think he can bleed me like a pig, do he."

With a full turn of legs, body and arms, the Orc takes a clean swing at Formin's torso.

Gunk attacks Formin with his War Hammer, but he misses by a long shot.

Sachem ducks and the hammer catches the side of his head, giving him a good wallop, but doing little real damage. He shakes his head and clears the stars as he giggles demonically. 'Fire, fire, fire! Over the Flame you'll burn!' Then more words follow in his own tongue, "<Morian Uruk> The cursed sun is up, let's get outta here while we can!" With that, Sachem swings at Morlim's neck!

Sachem attacks Morlim with his Battle Axe and severely wounds him!

         Hearing the crunch of bones as his Mace strikes true the Priest says "That is just he beginning filth, for before I am done all your bones shall be as your arm is now.." Seeing the she-orc once again attack eh priest raises his shield, though a bit to slow, for the scimitar catches him in the thigh slicing through his robes and into his leg, blood pouring out the Priest grunts through gritted teeth and once again attacks, this time aiming for the other sword arms shoulder, saying "You will pay dearly for that, these were my favorite" a hint of pain can be heard in his voice.

[Formin(#26827)] "Indeed I do!" Formin returns, even as Gunk's spinning mass brings his hammer to clang away against Formin's raised shield. The silversmith's torso remains for the moment unharmed. And with his attacker now at a more equal level, Formin seeks to take advantage of his blade's purpose. Out flies the broadsword, sweeping up in an attempt to cleave deep into the side of Gunk's ribcage.

Formin attacks Gunk with his Short Broadsword and mildly wounds him!

"A pity," comments Vrugak between gritted teeth. "Let me fit that for you then...with more tears. You'll soon with it was only your robes that were shredded. I'll undo every string in your body, short leg fool!" She makes a jerked motion to the left in attempt to avoid the mace again; while the bulk of the attack misses, the head still manages to catch the orc on the shoulder, and she stumbles sideways. The ladder is grabbed for support, and then the creature is back upon the wall, glaring viciously. "Want me to fall to my death, don't you?" She turns the scimitar edge upward, aiming toward Farak's midsection.

Sachem's words are heard, and she acknowledges them with a hiss, still focused on the dwarf in front.

Gunk blocks most of the blow with his shield, but the broadsword slips off and his armored side with enough force. Under his armored flesh, several ribs break with wet pops. Gasping now, the Orc looks at the Dwarf and there is fear in his eyes.

There are no words now, only gritted teeth and the sun climbing into the sky. Backing towards his ladder now, Gunk holds his war hammer ready to counter any attacks.

[Morlim(#20753)]        The orc leader's axe cuts through the steel gorget around Morlim's neck, deflecting the blade, if only enough, so that it gouges into his shoulder rather than clean through the neck. A hand goes from the hammer haft to the wound, and the Engineer gives his first real cry of pain. As he begins to sink to his knees, wounds beginning to overtake him, he thrusts his hammer at Sachem's face, vicious spike gleaming in the rising dawn, attempting to take his foe down with him.

Morlim attacks Sachem with his War Hammer and lightly wounds him!

         His eyes full of rage the Priest once again raises his shield in front of him, blocking the attack from the She-Orc, though it looks as if his robes were once again torn by her blade, Glaring at the She-Orc once more Farak shouts "You shall die soon enough, dont you worry.." Swinging his Mace once again, in a downward motion, aimed for the injured arm of his enemy shouting "Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!" as he does.

Sachem's blow strikes not quite true, but close enough for him to move forward with glee to complete the kill! Morlim's thrust is unexpected and the orc catches it right in the face! The spike enters his mouth and then tears through the flesh of his face as he jerks just in time. Sachem screams with anger as blood squirts. "Back to the ladders!" he cries. "We'll get 'em when the rest of us get here!"

The great orc backs toward his ladder as others around him scurry and start to climb back down.

[Formin(#26827)] "Ah now, why so stricken?" Formin says, frowning and lifting his brows at Gunk. And for the first time, the battlelust that his general jesting and sarcasm tends to mask becomes apparent, for he advances on the goblin with an almost smirking expression. Alas - or hooray, depending on your perspective - he does not press his attack. Just at that moment comes the pained cry from the enginner and Chief Master Veteran Morlim, now gravely wounded and sinking to the ground.

The cry grabs Formin's attention and his gaze jerks around towards Morlim, surprize in his eyes now. And what's this? The goblins appear to be running once more for their ladders, their leader with his mouth bloodied waving them thus. Morlim for the moment seems clear of renewed attack, so Formin looks instead back again at Gunk. "Well now, you're welcome to stay, my lad, but you mightn't like the company if all your fellows are running away, eh!" So said, Formin swings out again, but this time the blade seems to aim for a mere parting shot at Gunk's hip.

Formin attacks Gunk with his Short Broadsword, but he misses by a handspan.

The third strike from the mace elicits a sharp gasp of pain from the she-orc, and judging by the awkward angle at which the arm now hangs, it is doubtless broken in countless places. The blaring light of the coming sun brings a grimace of hatred to her twisted face. Vrugak takes a step away, backing up for the nearby ladder. Though she doesn't try and attack again, the scimitar is still held out menacingly as a deterence.

[Morlim(#20753)]        Morlim, hardly in a position to press any attack on the retreating orcs, remains upon his knees, glaring at Sachem as the orc leader backs up. He uses his hammer to keep himself upright, but seems quite willing to thrust it again should the orc press. "I will see your blood spilt upon the rocks, creature," hisses the Engineer, breathing heavy.

        The other Dwarves, as the orcs begin to retreat, give a joyful cry, pressing forward to push them off the walls but they do not persue beyond that.

Gunk's retreat is in haste now and the parting shot misses. The Orc's good humor returns for a parting shot of his own as he reaches his ladder and starts to climb down.

"Dorfy's sword is too short. Like the 'est of yur kind. Hai!"

         Seeing his enemy moving for the ladder Farak shouts "Have you had enough then foul creature?" Seeing the scimitar still at the ready he raises his shield and moves forward, swinging with his Mace at the weapon arm and kicking at the ladder that the she-orc is attempting to climb.

Sachem spits out a mass of red goo, blood and flesh and other things besides, at Morlim as a final parting shot. He tosses his axe down and then starts down the ladder, his head disappearing after a moment, coal eyes piercing. Through the blood, he cries with a gurgle, "FLAME! You'll burn! Hai, you'll burn!"

[Formin(#26827)] "Think so, eh?" says Formin, cocking a brow. "Perhaps if I'd been taller, it would have made it easier for you to do all that eating alive you assured me of. Come back and we'll put your theory to the test, my lad!" He rushes forward then, too far from Gunk now to effectively swing at the orc, but the silversmith nevertheless puts a shoulder to the top of the makeshift ladder and heaves against it. It might not be enough to shift the siege instrument, but it might yet shake the ladder enough to elicit a pleasant scream or two.

"I'll get you next time, worm, don't worry," growls the she-orc, but as the mace comes out, it only makes her move faster. The head of the weapon still manages to rip along the side of her ragged tunic, and she gives a snarl at the ladder-kicking. "No. You. Don't!" With each word, Vrugak gives her own kick at Farak's leg, hoping to stop him before the ladder tips.

Unfortunately, the ladder does indeed start to wobble, and the creature makes a desperate leap for it. Her left claw -- the good one -- scrapes against it but holds. Down she hurries, spitting a last time disdainfully.

Gunk climbs down with his weak arm. When the Dwarf hits the ladder, his grip on a rung is lost immediately. His feet bloodly, he slips and is in midair for moments, being only halfway down to the ground. Fortunately, the ground and gravity do little to harm Gunk, besides eliciting an angry cry and wicked curses. But the snaga who broke his fall, is crushed, his chest and skull caving in from the weight of Gunk and his armor. There is a cry of agony and then silence.

         As he kicks the ladder Farak feels a sharp pain in his shin as the She-Orcs kicks him squarely shouting in pain as the ladder tips "We shall see scum.. We shall see" Looking to the SilverSmith and Engineer the Priest quickly limps over to help for his left lag has a gash, and he was just kicked in the right. Shouting to the dwarves below he says "Get a healer!"

[Morlim(#20753)]        Though it begins quietly at first, it can soon be heard easily enough that the Chief Master Veteran is laughing, though if it is /because/ of the pain or in defiance of it is not quite clear. "As I said," he says to no one in particular, beginning to sink further down to the stone now, "orcs shall break upon it like water... on a... rock."

Sachem is down off the ladder. Other orcs come over to help him, but he swats them away after retrieving his axe. With that, he starts back north towards the Morian encampment.

Gunk grabs one of the snaga's ankles and drags the poor orcling with one hand and his war hammer in the other in the retreat to the Morian encampment.

The ladder is still quivering this way and that, and Vrugak's one-handed grip fumbles; she tumbles the remainder of the way down, and the wooden ladder follows. For a moment there is no movement, and then the orc wriggles out from beneath it, and lopes off after the fleeing Morians. The damaged arm is still clasped against her side, and she is now limping from the fall -- but nevertheless, across the grass she slips, running flat-footed.

[Formin(#26827)] "Ah, shame that," Formin mutters wryly to himself, shaking his head as a scream echoes up to him. "Well, do hurry back!" he shouts out over the wall at the retreating backs of the mountain orcs. "You do know you're always welcome! Splendid display this night, especially your bloody backsides!" His rubbing of salt into the wounds, however, dies down when Farak begins to call for a healer and the grave wounds borne by Morlim return to the silversmith's mind.

Short broadsword is wiped roughly against Formin's trouser leg and sheathed and his shield is hooked hastily upon his back. Then Formin is coming towards the Chief Master Veteran. "Say, lad, you did say that, now didn't you? Eh, and what a show, I should think." Perhaps Formin is unsure whether Morlim will survive this, but whatever the case, the jesting is gone from voice, or at least the most dramatic of it. The silversmith reaches out to catch Morlim under the shoulder and help him lay back. "Why, those bloody goblins didn't even stay long enough to exchange proper pleasantries. Imagine if the Beornings had been building this lot, eh? It might've been dessert before we'd cleared them out."

[Morlim(#20753)]        A shorter, softer laugh comes from the Chief Master Veteran at Formin's remarks, hissing quietly in pain as he is propped back up. "Just imagine... how well it would have gone... if the defences were complete?" He moves his gaze from the retreating orcs to the Dwarves within. "Do we know... casualties, yet? They shall... have to be seen by the healers..." Says the bleeding commander, taking his hand away from his shoulder and looking at the blood upon the gauntlet.

"Huh. Look at that."

Gunk heads north, forsaking the outpost.
Gunk has left.
Sachem heads north, forsaking the outpost.
Sachem has left.
You head northwards into the heart of the Anduin Valley.

Vales of the Anduin
The Vales of the Anduin roll out before you here, The dangers of the Misty mountains left to the west, but surely not forgotten. Fertile green fields populated with thickets of Birch and Oak make this land perfect for farming. As you gaze east you can see the Great Anduin River winding its way lazily through the valley floor. To the west the Vales stretch out, eventually meeting the feet of the misties. Off to the north the terrain levels out into the great Northern Plains of Rhovanion, whilst not far off to the Southwest you can make out a glade of trees.

The rain continues to pour around you. The mid morning summer air is hot and muggy around you. The moon is not visible.

Morian Orc Camp
Obvious exits:
 South leads to Outpost in Ruins.
 West leads to Vales of the Anduin.
 East leads to Anduin Valley - West of the Carrock.
 North leads to Northern Plains.

Sachem makes it back to the shade of the thicket where the orcs are encamped. He looks to where the shaman/healer is and strides over, pointing at his torn face. "Fix this up!"

Gunk finds an open spot to keel over onto. His bleeding has stopped for now. But his wounded arm is lame and his breathing is ragged. When Sachem appears over him, the healer-orc grunts and curses and then nods. Find his medicine bag, he opens it and takes out a stone and personal item of meaning, along with herbs and other medicinals. "Sit yur 'ear down. If you make me stand, ye'll be in 'rouble."

Sachem plunks down. "Stitch'er up and then lather it with that goo you healers keep."

Gunk finds a dirty sliver of bone and manages to put some thread through the eye. Getting close, close enough for his foul hot breaths to blow on Sachem, he licks his bloody lips with a long black tongue repeatedly as he concentrates on sewing up the wound with deep stabs and rough jerks as he pulls the needle and thread through.

[Combat Function Library(#15)] Gunk tends to the injuries on Sachem.

Sachem howls, but keeps still. After Gunk is done, he slathers his face with the orcish stuff that passes for medicine and then gulps down some of the 'hot' orcish drink that puts a fire in his belly and takes away the pain.

Gunk nods at his work and then turns away to work on himself. He slathers some goop on his wounds and then takes a long draught of the Orc brew to dull the pain of his busted ribs.

[Combat Function Library(#15)] Gunk tends to the injuries on his own person.

"Don't suppose you'd know how to fix broken bones, would you?" The voice comes from behind Gunk, where Vrugak has plopped herself down onto the trampled grass. She is cradling the battered right arm, and muttering irritatedly to herself. "Wretched short-legs. Curse them all the the Hall of Feasting..."

Gunk shrugs his shoulders and grunts as he turns hia attention to the battered she-orc. A snaga brings a couple of sticks, neither really straight or smooth. The healer-orc isn't bothered by their imperfections as he places them on either side of Vrugak's arm and then wraps the whole thing with some strips of cloth tron from the she-orc's coverings.

"Let her mend. If it ain't straight, you shouldn't a got it busted."

"Hmph, wasn't my fault. Stupid, nasty mace," the she-orc mutters, but nevertheless she yields a nod of appreciation to the healer. Then, she peers over toward where Sachem sits. "You..said there was more numbers coming?"

Sachem drinks more of the hot brew, then tosses the flask at the she-orc. Then he finds a dark corner of the thicket and shuts his eyes, cursing quietly.

"Maybe. They don't go outside like they used to. Fighting among themselves too much these days."

Gunk laughs at the she-orc's misfortune as he starts to butcher the snaga he killed in his fall.

The flask proves to not be as easy to catch with one hand, and it hits Vrugak on the nose, earning a sharp cursing. She gives a frown to Gunk's laughing, and taking a drink, curls up on the grass while being careful not to harm the crude splint. "They'd better be coming. Didn't get any short-legs for dinner."

Sachem grunts and then rolls over, axe in the cradle of his arm, ready in case anyone gets uppity during the day.

One of the snaga's hip joints lets go and Gunk pulls a leg free with blood flying. Not bothering to cook his meal, the healer-orc sinks his teeth into a tight and tears away a mouthful of flesh and muscle. Chewing commences and the war hammer is not far from hand, should any snagas try to steal a bite.


Date added: 2010-08-05 11:07:49    Hits: 81
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