Moria, Before the Ebon Door

This is a standard passage within Moria, a Road. The passage is about eleven feet high and the same distance wide. The glow from beyond and somehow through the Ebony Door shows the passage to be topped by flat slabs of granite. The corridor walls are similarly composed of smoothed slabs of redstone. The air is warm, damp, and slightly musty. There is no noise but that which intruders make make. Blackness gives way to the flickering glow which leaks from around the seal of the Ebony Door to the east. A rush of hot air also escapes from the room beyond the door.

Participants:

Huzghash

Hykhert

Pair of the Baneguard(NPC)

The heat is at its most intense in this chamber. Despite the flames illuminating the room, there seems to be an odd, nearly tangible darkness that penetrates all who dare come this close to the lair of the Flame.

One such brave soul is Hykhert; the shaman stands quietly before the Ebon door, eyes cast downward. Weary and dirty, he appears to have been here for some time, but does not move or rest.

Before Hykhert stand two of the feared baneguard, their stone-covered armor glistening in the heavy dark. They offer no response to Hykhert as he quietly stands before them.

Whispered footsteps edge there way down the hall towards the Ebon door; the lone seperation between uruks and the Flame. The Heat pours over the encroaching uruk, his features noticably tense and withdrawn; his eyes flicking around at the slightest sound, real or perceived. Sweat drips down from beneath his helm, stinging the Guard's eyes. Yet Huzghash moves not to wipe the sweat away, his hands locked in a perpetual death grip with each other, both vying to crush the other.

Finally poking his head into the chamber, Huzghash eyes the room; eyes wide and alert. Finally the Guard rests his gaze solely on the Baneguard and the Shaman. The Guard's mouth seems to even mouth the word 'Baneguard' as he moves a bit further into the room. "Shaman," The Guard calls out meekly; voice barely lifting above the stone floor. "I sought you out, as you said." The Guard's voice drops into shadowed whispers, disappearing into the everpresent darkness of the room.

Hykhert moves not; for a moment it appears that he has not noticed Huzghash, or ignores him. However, he quietly responds after a bit of silence: "Approach me. We will speak."

Huzghash moves forward slowly, his eyes ent to the floor. "Yes, Shaman." The Guard responds again meekly, foot steps melding with the soft words. Now close enough to speak, Huzghash lifts his gaze but a moment to look closer upon the BaneGuard, the Guard's gaze dropping back to the floor after only catching sight of their knees. "How am I to help you Shaman?" Huzghash questions, eyes tracing lines across the floor.

Hykhert, head bowed, forces words through his weariness, the last of his sweat running down his forehead as he croaks queries. "Are you prepared to be Talashakh? What are your thoughts? Tell me what you see, Master Guard."

"I am prepared, Shaman." The Guard says, voice shaking slightly with his tense situation. "The will be many who will not have me lead as Talashakh, and there will be conflict because of this. If it strengthens the horde, though, I feel it should be done." Drip. Plish. A drop of sweat collides with the stone floor creating the only sound after the Guard's words have ceased.

Hykhert grunts with the mere exertion of standing still in this oven for days. "They will have you, Huzghash. The current leaders disappoint the Thrakburzum. They will welcome the change . . . fear not. If I am admitted by the Flame to the position I seek, then my blessing will carry more weight, and you will be invincible." He sighs with weariness. "Has the Council yet been called?"

Huzghash shakes his head, "Not yet by the Talashakh, Shaman. He may be waiting until after the Southrons leave to invoke a council, but I am not sure." The Guard's shrugs, shoulders heaving with the exertion; heat still beating down on the uruk.

Hykhert nods, but only slowly. His body seems to creak from dehydration and weariness even from this slight movement. "Grr," he moans. "If it is not called soon..." He pauses. "What of this scout? Tell me your mind."

Huzghash's breath is heavy, "Tashgrak? He seems loyal, and forthwith with his actions. Intelligent even and certainly useful." THe Guard shrugs again, his eyes still roving the floor. "He has done well in rebuilding the scouts, and has shown his courage in battle. Not much else, I think."

Hykhert does not nod this time, but cracks a grin. "Can be trusted then. I will heed your words . . . if I ever return from this place." The words do not sound hopeful. "Speak not of what I am about to tell you." He pauses, seeking affirmation before he continues.

Huzghash merely nods, his lips too tight to allow words to pass.

Hykhert seems to see the nod out of the corner of an eye almost dry enough to crack, and thus continues. "I do not know, Huzghash, if I have failed. I am the last of the Flame's voices, and I am not their Master. Even now the Flame has not seen me. Perhaps it is I who will be punished for the famine..." He does not look sad, nor upset...merely resolved to the fate that may await him.

Huzghash's eyes lift just enough to view the face of the Shaman. "Yet you have been the Flame's faithful servant, that should stand for itself. Though I do not pretend to understand the working sof the Flame." Huzghash's head drops once more, body shiftinf ceaselessly.

Hykhert forces another pained nod. "We shall see." Again, no emotion in his voice, just patient resolve. "Work with the visitors . . . you can become a hero by forging trade. I shall wait here, to live or die."

Huzghash nods, his eyes searching for and finding the exit. "I will do as you say, Shaman." Beginning to move for the door Huzghash calls back quietly to the Shaman, "Flame be with you, Shaman." With that the Guard's steps become more hurries, quickly carrying the Guard back towards the Great Temple.

Hykhert does not turn to watch the Master Guard's exit, but slowly speaks. Almost inaudibly, he mutters. "And with you..." That finished, the shaman returns silently to his bizarre vigil. The baneguard, immoble and impassive throughout the conversation, remain silent, watchful, and impossibly stiff.