Elendor Info

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Tags: Bagurat,  Grobnuz,  Sudanir

Short Summary: To the dismay of some elven scouts hidden in the canopy, the Mordain orcs decide to wreck more havoc upon the trees.
Date (real-life): 2010-09-09
Scene Location: Mirkwood


The view is blocked in most directions by towering dark trunks, holding heavy and crooked boughs hight above the ground. The gloomy ancient forest seems to draw more and more strenght from you as you travel deeper. Beneath you feets the forestbottom is cool and damp and around you the late morning autumn air is brisk.
The dim light hurt your eyes a little, but you think you can make out a gap between the trees west of you.

The slender rays of daylight finding their way between the boughs, indicate that the sky above is cloudy.

Morian Orc Camp
Orc Raiding Party(#18007np)

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Late Morning on Hevensday, Day 24 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 18:08:45 MDT on Thu Sep 09 2010.

Morning comes on the heels of a torchlit night under the eaves of the Mirkwood; one filled with the stamp of marching boots and the cackle of savage voices. And alas, while the light of day breaks over the treetops, little cheer filters down to chase away that savage glee. For the uruk-hai of Mordor are yet abroad, having marched far and as straight as they are able, until they now stand deep within the northern stretches of the fell Mirkwood; a cancer beneath the trees.

But now they halt, for as cruel eyes squint skyward they are called to cease their rampage. Fires are lit in short order to replace the torches, and crude tents are erected for the commanders. Some lay down to sleep and regain strength, though others are sent it seems to gather firewood.

One tent in particular is tall and impressive, and a pair of heavily armed guards stand without it. Eyeing their brethren with suspicion and menace they appear to be keeping watch over the peace of whomever dwells within.

While the heavily armed guards keep watch, there is another who draws within distance of that large tent. Halting then as the rest of the camp settles itself, Bagurat takes the moment to plop down roughlu onto the soggy ground, and throws back one of her long sleevs to reveal a length of stained bandages wrapped along the arm. These the robed-garbed shaman begins to unwind, the yellow eyes inside her crow-mask glancing up from time to time to glare as the other inhabitants of the encampment pass nearby.

High above in the dark treetops, a few pairs of eyes watch the goings on below, nestled in the crooks of branches. Fortunately, the movements and interactions of goblins is actually quite interesting to elves, but for now they pause to eat a bite brought back from Amon Thranduil.

As the witch-orc arrives, the others of the camp nod and bow their heads in recognition, a path to the great tent quickly appearing within their throng as they step aside. The two guards stand even more stiffly to attention, and from the midst of the uruk-hai one short, stocky orc shuffles into view.

"We're all camped, O Shaman," says he to Bagurat. "What are yer orders?"

The witch-orc does not answer right away; and it is not until she is done fixing a new piece of cloth over a long gash that has been cut on her forearm that she raises her head. The sleeve is pulled back down, and Bagurat's stare alights upon the speaker. "I am unhappy," the voice is muffled behind the metallic beak. "Days now we have marched and searched...and the wretched albai scum haven't shown their faces since the last time they dared to call us to a halt." The tone turns musing, but no less unkind. "Perhaps we shall /force/ their attention this way, if they so choose to ignore us."

Far above, the words of the orcs rise to the pointy ears of the scout spies who tail the camp. Finding this line of conversation a little more interesting, Sudanir lays down on the branch, facing down into the clearing to listen better. "By the lights of Varda...I am tired of being in trees," one of his companions says softly. "Shh! Me too. Now listen..." Sudanir whispers back.

A dark glee kindles in the eyes of the stocky orc before Bagurat, and he nods with a leer. "I likes the sound of that, O Wise One, and so will the lads. Stinkin' cowards!" he adds, spitting to one side. "Hiding in their hovels. What is it you want done, mighty one? Grobnuz will see it done..."

There is a malicious amusement within the words that reply, and the shaman makes a sweeping gesture with her good arm to indicate the general vacinity. "Splinter and hew more trees down. Fell as much as you and the lads see fit...afterall," and now Bagurat gives a nasty laugh, "the soldiers of the Eye could make use of wagons and watchtowers. And what better to fashion them out of, than the resources provided by the forest?"

"What I /wish/ is that someone would come out and relieve us." The companion elf says, though he seems very interested in the dialogue below. Sudanir waves a hand laterally and with vehemence. "Shush! You'll give us away." he warns.

But there seems to be no such worry for the Firstborn, for the camp is noisy enough to mask their words well. Indeed, Grobnuz, the stocky orc has ears only for the Shaman, and he bows his head with a sneering chuckle at her command. "It shall be done, O Wise One," says he, and he whirls about to enter and order the throng once more.

Soon enough the orcs set to this appointed task; axes and blades hacking and hewing eagerly at the great trunks of the forest, and it is not long ere many of them creak and topple to the earth. Ropes are fetched to drag them away, and it cannot be long before the orcs turn their attentions to the trees in which the Eldar hide.

And as the orcs embark upon their destructive task, the witch-orc pushes herself to her clawed feet, pacing a little closer so that she may better view the proceedings. Judging by the nasty flickering of the yellow gaze, her hidden mouth has contorted into a grin of cruel excitement and satisfaction.

"May the Master bless your handiwork, and the wood never forget the lesson we shall teach it!" she shouts for encouragement, spreading -- although stiffly -- her arms skyward as if in some sort of dark prayer.

The elves above like this order little, watching the orcs spread out into the trees and undergrowth like ants, angrily attacking the trees. Some of the elves seem quite upset, in fact. Then the trees start to fall, and some of the Eldar groan. But as the activity gets closer, and yes, even their own tree is hacked upon, Sudanir gets up from his prone position, turning to the others. "We must go, before there are no trees left around this one." Nodding, the others turn to gather their things, where they have set up camp to make themselves comfortable.

Quickly they must work, for ever the greedy harvest of the felling axes expands, and the lumber is hauled to one end of the orc camp; there can be heard the buzz of saws and the hammer of nails. Whatever nefarious purpose the uruk-hai are putting the wood to, it seems clear that a great work is taking place.

The guards by the tent watch this all with satisfaction, and while they wait anon by the entrance they seem alert as they turn their eyes to Bagurat.

Once the buzzing and hammering commences, the robed orc turns away, shrugging a sore shoulder, though she seems nonetheless pleased by the events this morning. And then with a masked nod to the guards, Bagurat slips back the large tent's flap and stalks inside.


Date added: 2010-09-10 10:14:39    Hits: 66
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