Elendor Info

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Tags: Bagurat,  Gunk,  Sachem

Short Summary: The Morians demonstrate their loyalty to aid the orcs of Sarn Goriwing in ther assault.
Date (real-life): 2010-09-02
Scene Location: outside Sarn Goriwing

Iant Umarthen: Bridge to Sarn Goriwing
As you walk across a long bridge of stout trees tied together in a massive wooden plank, you see below you that the wide bridge of smooth black stone has been shattered, and only crumbling and dangerously narrow stretches of jagged and glossy rock now stretch crookedly across the ravine. A heavy dark mist rises from the black waters below you and the incessant thrashing falls around you, stifling your senses and numbing your thoughts with the threat of endless sleep... Before you the black spire of Sarn Goriwing rises from the churning inky spray, a needle of smooth stone worked with clever artifice and ancient sorcery. The tower looks cold and dreary from where you stand, as cheerless and deadly as the forest far below.
Morian Orc Camp
Corpse sign
Draw Bridge Wheel
Obvious exits:
Gate and Shore

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Early Evening on Hevensday, Day 3 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 20:59:43 MDT on Thu Sep 02 2010.

The camp of the orcs outside the fortress has swelled as more followers of Sachem have straggled in as promised. There is probably now a couple thousand orcs all gathered together along the shore. Near the drawbridge in a crude makeshift lean-to of branches is Sachem. Seated on a rock, he is holding court over his minions as they gather about him for the day's portions of half rotted meat being doled out.

Next to Sachem is a small orc, made moreso by the fact he is appreciably hunched over. The other orcs seem to give this some respect, or at least fear. He has some space and no one tries to steal his meat. Gunk glances over at Sachem, perhaps looking for some kind of signal. When none comes, he snorts some snot back into his nose and goes back to his meal.

The gathering on the shore is great, and even now another approaches to add one more number to those present. From the direction of Sarn Goriwing's gate and over the bridge stalks a black robed shape, gaunt and short, and masked.

As she nears the edge of this assemblage, Bagurat pauses, peering over the many heads to spy out the leader. When the eyes behind the mask alight upon Sachem, they narrow, and a soft hiss is given, ere the shaman raises her voice in Westron to be heard over the din. "Hail, folk of the mountains!" She seems unconcerned by the fact that she is alone..amongst these foreigners.

Sachem looks up from doling out the meat at the newcomer. As he looks up, a sneaking hand reaches out to take more than it should and suddenly Sachem's battleaxe falls and the hand is severed. Growling in satisfaction as his authority is asserted and the others grovel all the more, he does not raise his own hand in greeting, but rather the severed one. To Gunk, he mutters something, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" and then adds to Bagurat in the usual gutteral Common Speech of the Orcs, ''Come! Form a lane there, boys!''

Gunk doesn't react at all as the hand is severed. It lands near his feet, still twitching and he kicks it away. When Sachem speaks, the orc glances up at Bagurat and nods. He replies with a belch.

The yellow gaze of the witch-orc watches the spectacle of the severed hand, no reaction to be discerned from the emotionless crow-mask that she wears. Toward Gunk she peers briefly as words seem to be exchanged between the two, and then Bagurat steps onward imperiously, head held high as she walks along the lane that begins to form. Finally, before Sachem she halts. "I bring news from the High Shrieker. Is your rabble prepared for immediate departure?" Words come forth in twisted Common.

Sachem says nothing immediately as he watches the scrum forming. It quickly turns violent as a pack of orcs fight over the hand and its promise of adding extra meat to the ration they've already received this day. After a bit of entertainment, he looks to Bagurat and nods. "Big words you use. We're ready to go. Your trees don't have enough fresh meat here to keep us all anyway."

Gunk nods in agreement and then starts to lick his fingers. When he finishes, he hunts for morsels of meat and fat that have fallen to the ground where he squats.

"Indeed they don't," agrees the shaman, the point of lacking food made more apparent perhaps when Gunk begins to hunt for more. Bagurat gives a glance around at the throng of Morians, ere her eyes flicker anew toward Sachem. "In less than half a week, both the Mordain and your host are to depart with war into the forest." There is a pause, and when next she speaks, a prideful smirk might be heard upon the voice. "I have been chosen by the High Shrieker himself to command this assault."

Sachem shrugs with indifference. "His High Shirkerness can pick the leader. Will your rabble follow?"

Gunk licks his fingers clean again, this time mostly getting grease caked with dirt and filth. Satsified he has taken all the nourishment available, the starts to pay more attention. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

"As far as I am aware, both hosts travel together. The exact hour is yet to be revealed, but it is near. Much bloodshed and sacrifice is promised, for the Master...and your Flame," the witch-orc adds after a moment. "The intented target is the accursed Light-lovers of this wood."

Her attention shifts as the other Morian speaks in the foreign tongue. "I do not appreciate secrets," hisses Bagurat then, the gaze in the eyeholes of the crow-mask narrowing.

Sachem replies to Gunk quietly, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Then loudly so Bagurat can hear, ''Not like whatever you want. We are here for the Shirker, even if he doesn't want to lead us into the fight.''

Gunk shrugs and then says back to Bagurat, "I's asked if yous be our leader. Maybe you take off mask and we's have no secrets. Hai?"

The orc grins and then starts to laugh.

"I don't doubt the High Shrieker would," the shaman's tone has turned slightly colder, not helped by Gunk's laughter, "but he is occuppied with greater matters."

The head turns then to face the grinning uruk, and Bagurat lazily raises a long-sleeved arm to remove the beaked mask; what lies beneath is nothing remarkable among orcish kind: a thin pointed ashen face, topped by a mass of unkempt white hair. "Satisfied? Let there be no secrets. This...alliance must last at least the length of our attack."

Gunk stands to get as close as he can get. After having a good look, he nods and then settles back down in a squat. "Hai, we's no secrets 'tween us."

"We rat-rabble will try hard! The leaf ears'll 'member us for a long time! Hai?!" Sachem stands up and steps out from under his lean-to as he raises his battle-axe. The snagas take the hint and leap to their feet and cry out in answer, "HAI!"

And it is now the she-orc's turn to be satisfied as Sachem displays his authority and the other Morians answer. She peers around at them all, at the last giving a nod and a lopsided smirk of her own. "That is well," says Bagurat. "I can see your people will give our foes adequate reason to fear and tremble before your blades. I shall return to you when the hour comes to set forth from this shore. Until then, may your remain loyal to the Shrieker, and your Flame look with favor upon you."

This said, the shaman turns to depart back from whence she came. The mask is pulled back over her face as she goes.

HAI! HAI! HAI! HAI! If Sachem says anything in reply, it is lost in the din as the Morians start to work themselves in to a berzerker frenzy. Already, some of the more easily excited orcs are facing off, ready to tear each other apart if not properly handled by their leaders.


Date added: 2010-09-03 00:04:44    Hits: 40
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