East Bank of the Anduin

You are standing by the east bank of the Great River. Here the old road veers off eastwards into the emptiness of the Brownlands. Across the river further north, you can spy the Celebrant river, flowing from the west, meeting up with the Anduin. Just beyond that intersection is the forested Egladil of Lorien. Can the old legends be true? Do elves indeed dwell deep within the Golden Wood in a city of trees? Your curiosity almost overwhelms you. If only you had a boat...

Contents:

Pough

Gazburg

Ghashburzh

Shukrak

Badog

Gakhâst

Rudgut

Uruk Camp

Durbmog

Z'macht

Sohargh

Kali'naj

Orlisk

Morian Encampment

Obvious exits:

NorthEast leads to Edge of Forest, along Anduin.

East Road leads to North Edge of Brown Lands.

Into River leads to Anduin, South of Lorien.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Under the night sky, velvet sparkled with diamonds and the occassional wisp of cloud, a fairly large group of orcs is ammassed beside the mighty Anduin. Their cruel fires, pinpoints of orange and amber, dot the soggy plain for several hundred yards. Occassionally, a keen eye may spy a guard or sentry ambling slowly around the camp's perimeter. One thing is certain: there are no trees for cursed elves to hide in!

Towards the center of the camp, a slightly taller fire rages. Around it are gathered stout figures adorned in what is considered to be the better armor of moria. Black. Dented. One among them, who has fresh wounds on his hands, raises his voice to speak.

"We meet hear tonight to come to a final decision regarding our foreign prisoner and his unknown possesion. An evil possession, no doubt. Some have suggested killing its bearer, and taking the weapon to the King or Demon, while others think the whole matter is best left alone." Z'macht pauses. "We must decide now, before soon we return to the mines."

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Durbmog leans against a tall orcish wagon, pale gaze focused intently upon Z'macht. His black robes are open at the front; red firelight glitters on his black mail beneath.

"Better to bring back too much than too little," the Warlord comments mildly, his voice deep and yet soft. "Our Master Below may have a use for the captive, yes?"

Rubbing an extending tusk with a pair of thick fingers, Laerecht stares deeply into the fire in the shadow of the Warlord. Pupils re-dialating suddenly as the monstrous uruk reins in his own thoughts, the huge Morian nods after the Uruk-Hai's comments.

"Wise m'lord. Precious time is waisted."

[Z'macht(#27431)] A ruffle spreads through the crowd. Most orcs tend to agree with Durbmog's statement, raising harsh "Ois!" or "Ayes!" or "Right you ares!" A few dissenters, however, scowl at the Warlord.

"You crawled from the breeding pit with no brain!"

"Your mother was a warg and father an elf!"

These disagreeing orcs, however, always seem to be hidden and unidentifiable.

Kali'naj sits on a crate, among the cluster or two of Scouts. His hooded head shakes in the negative and he looks at Durbmog. "The Warlord makessss a good arguement," he calls out. "But you have all sssseen that ssssword. And have any of you not at leasssst trembled a little? Who is going to carry that..." the tall scout pauses, "thing, all the way back to our city? I sssshall not wield it for the trip."

Z'macht nods to Durbmog, battered helm glinting red in the firelight. As he speaks, firesparks spiral upwards into the night, up, up, up, gone. Smoke is barely visible in the gloom, too, tormented shaped illuminated only by the billowing blaze below.

"Your points are well taken. This weapon our captive bears is ... odd," Z'macht says. Every so often he pauses to wipe his bleeding fingers on the front of his already filthy tunic. "But we should not show cowardice to the flame. Sure ... we may come to ill ends handling this thing, but we will come to ill ends of the Lord of Fire sees us as failures!"

Pough watches the Warlord and Latadurub, his keen eyes frequently flipping to one who shouts aloud, or to another who does not. Silently he stands, arms folded, listening but not speaking. Waiting...

[Durbmog(#29406)]

The Warlord grits his teeth, then -- abruptly -- smiles blandly, relaxing. "My mother was the blackest she-warg of them all," he quips, "and practically rabid. They gave her a den of her own after she slaughtered three pit-wenches with nothing but her teeth!"

His yellow eyes scan the assembled orcs, noting the scowlers, seeking those who might have dissented before. "And the Latadurub raises a most excellent point, I'd say. Who wants to answer to the Demon when we return, should we return without the maximum we can procure, eh?"

[Z'macht(#27431)] The assembled creatures laugh, their murderous glee rolling over the plain. Frolicking in the wind with bloodlust. Overhead, a bat flitters and then is gone.

"I second that!" yells a cook from the rabble.

"And I!" says hit mate.

"Then you can carry that ghostly blade!"

More harsh laughter.

[Orlisk(#24926)] Siting alttle to the side of Kali'naj, The form of Orlisk is seen scowling at the words of all. Remaining silent but still intent on listening Orlisk pulls out his flask and takes a deep draw as the words continue. Dark thoughts flowing in mind, Orlisk stands to his firm and moves a few feet away as he glances out into the horizon.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

"Oh, and soil the Flame's prize? I think not," Durbmog scoffs. "Shows what you know, snaga."

He straightens, moving lithely away from the wagon. "Unlike you flock of ignoramuses," he declares haughtily, "the Latadurub and I know that prizes for the Flame are to be placed in iron boxes and borne in empty wagons, under heavy guard."

Kali'naj grunts at the Warlord's statement about courage and shakes his head. In doing this he notices the suddenly missing form of the sharku Orlisk. A hooded head swivels almost 360 degrees to look, and spots the old scout removed from the discussion. He turns his head back to face Durbmog and stands slowly, trudging off towards his fellow scout (Orlisk). "Courage and rewards only do you any good if yer alive to claim them. That blade'll draw pestilance to this caravan," he calls back. Kali'naj comes to rest next to Orlisk and looks out into the distance as well. "If it hasnt already," he mutters quietly so only the sharku can hear.

Pough nods his head approvingly at the last words of the Warlord, raising his forfinger in ackowlagement. Turning his head to the side, he examines those to his left and right, reguarding them with disgust. A snaga shifts his weight, and between the heads, the Master Hammerer catches a glimpse of the Senior Scout.

Laerecht laughs heartily as the Warlord verbally rounds on his gainsayers. Shaking his head slowly from side to side, the huge uruk stretches burly arms wide as the vacancy at the wagon is allowed with Durbmog's departure.

"And I wonder what reception will be had in our odd captive by the Gothshaka?" The huge beast crosses meaty arms across his chest as he leans against the creaking wood of the heavily laden cart.

[Z'macht(#27431)] "Very well," says Z'macht, nodding his head. Down. Up. Clipped. His voice has authority, but a bitterness and sarcasm still taint its sincerity, an oily film over deep waters.

"Lockdown. Tied up." He unslings his mace and points it at a narrow tent close to the river. It is a yellow and mildewed thing, squat and low to the boggy earth. One corner of it actually looks as if it's about to sink into the mire. "We're gonna bind our prisoner so tight that he can barely breathe. We'll leave his pacifier in his hand in case it /does/ contain some elvish devilry." A pause to breathe and wipe his bleeding hands. "Other than that, it's time to roll out! The Gothshaka will be pleased beyond words!"

Pough shifts his weight and moves forward, silently pushing others out of his way. Some protest, but are quieted by an icy glare from the Master Hammerer. Persistantly, he continues to work his way in the direction of the Warlord and Latadurub.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

"The Latadurub has spoken," the Uruk-Hai booms, a grim smile creasing his mouth. "Let those who would question his orders bring their questions to me. I shall answer them tersely but communicatively."

Durbmog bends down, snatching up his helm from the ground, nesting it under his arm, and proceeds through the camp, moving towards the officers' tents, where snagas are hard at work rolling them up and loading them on the backs of hefty porter-snagas or on wagons.

[Pough(#10607)] The Morghash Hammerer approaches the front, finally after a slight struggle. Grunting, he looks at Z'macht, removing a wide, stiff-leather case, which he puts under his arm.

[Orlisk(#24926)] Noding in approval to the scout, Orlisk then hands his flask out to Kali'naj. "Remember your place scout, Your words fall on deaf ears." With that phrase spoken the right hand of Orlisk reaches down a pulls yet another smaller flask from under his uniform. "Ready yourself for the march. We are aways from our gates and anything can happen untill we reach them." Opening the top of the new flask and taking another swallow of the drink, no more words are spoken for now. Taking in a deep breath Orlisk turns back towards the Latadurub and awaits.

[Badog(#20766)] In the distance, to the east, the rhythmic pattern of marching feet can be heard, and the hoarse cry of orcs. Quite a few of them. They don't seem to be visible in the black night, but don't seem to far away, their screams and cries growing closer and closer. Armor and mail jingle loudly as a hunting band of orcs sprint through the brown lands beneath their feet. A harsh voice cries above the rest of them "C'mon you flea-bidden dung eating apes! You ain't getting these whips," On que, a loud crack-snap of a whip can be heard over the voice, "for free!" Badog cries. He marches alongside the group of orcs; about a score and a half of them, he cracks a large marching whip across the legs of the orcs. "And keep the noise down you bloody bloated fools! You'll scare him off a mile before we get to him! Garn! Garn! March! March!" The Lieutenant cries, growling softly as his crimson eyes scan the horizon, a soft growl rumbling deep in his gut. His keen eyes narrow slightly as he spots an amber glow over a hill. "Fire! Oi, shut it you louts!" With the interest of a sign of activity, the group of orcs quiet down to a hissing whisper. The orcs bare marks of many different insignias, showing that these orcs range from all over the East side of Middle-Earth. Badog, the Lieutenant of Barad-dur, garbed in nothing but black cloth and armor, crouches and begins to crawl up the hill, sliding his bow off his back and into his taloned hands.

[<#29406>]

Durbmog sets his helm on his head, leaving its snarling visor up for the present. In the Morian dialect, he bellows, "<Morian Uruk> Guards, form a perimeter! Scouts, commence to move to the flanks! I want a Scout runner to bring me the latest news on our surroundings -- clear, I expect, but I desire up-to-date information at all times! Scan all angles of approach and ready the vanguard."

Unlike the vast majority of the Morians present here, Durbmog has evidently spent hours scouring his armor -- or having it scoured -- to a bright shine, and it catches the firelight. "<Morian Uruk> Thrakburzum officers, come hither!"

[Rudgut(#27424)] Amongst the mob of goblins, a smaller figure can be heard chinking as he runs. To orkish eyes, dark scales of metal are visible. A shield hangs over the uruk's back, atop that is a short bow. As he jogs, he grasps an oversized war spear across his chest. He jogs on the outside of the ranks, outside the accursed whips' ranges. As the call for silence comes out, he hisses as he notices the form of Badog crossing in front of him. Moving forward silently, the chinking of the armor is reduced dramatically, and he creeps forward, the bow coming off to hang in his left hand, as he moves to join the tek'rak.

[Zurku(#31889)] Of the many snaga rolling up the officers' tents, there is one smaller than the rest, a diminutive figure garbed in an array of rags and hand-me-downs partially encrusted with half-burnt, half-dried dung. This tiny snaga, Zurku, waves her hands about in a directive fashion, hollering orders at the top of her lungs so that she can be heard above the din of the camp. Some of the snaga seemingly under her command do as she directs, but the majority glance at her and snicker and continue going about their tasks.

[Z'macht(#27431)] The camp begins to bustle with activity, then hum. Voices break out in lustful warsong (the only type that orcs know!) and tents tumble to the earth. Wagons are lashed to snagas. They lumber forth, hulking beasts that squeal like the slaves who pull them. "Now!" Crack! "Quickly!" Lash! Z'macht stands proudly, watching the goings on and trying to forget about his absent pinky fingers.

After several minutes, an odd thing happens. The noise of the Morian camp grindin to life is given competition. Voices, OTHER voices, drift in the air. They alight on the Morian host. Slowly but surely, most of the creatures slow, then stop, what they are doing.

"Huh?" a stupid brewer says.

"What could this be?" says Bograt, who discovered the captive.

Z'macht turns his head. Silence comes over the camp and the Latadurub yells over to Durbmog, the Warlord. "Your orders have come just in time!" he says, pointing to the horizon. Their the sound of marching feet and jingling armor can be heard. "Are their any scheduled patrols nearbye?"

Pough does not wait as Durbmog shouts again and he moves up to Z'macht, opening the hardened case as he does. "Lord Z'macht, I have chosen the finest shafts for youself." Placing a large callussed hand inside of the container, the Master Hammerer pulls out a fair number of arrows and hands them to Z'macht.

Pough +gives 20 Arrows to Z'macht.

Z'macht grabs a handful of arrows from Pough and clasps him on the shoulder, still looking at the horizon. "And you, too, Master Hammerer, are just in time. We have visitors."

Hurrying to the Warlord's side, Laerecht rumbles deeply.

"It is indeed so, m'lord! Noises of another host yonder. Shall I find the Master Scout?" Loud thuds of bootsmacking mud squelch beneath the towering denizen of the Deeps as he uneasily scratches the hammers at his waist.

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Among the Mordain Orcs is a tall, long-haired warrior, who, running along with the rest of them, hears the shout of Badog. He unsheaths his scimitar but remains silent, scowling darkly and twisting a visibly huge, disfiguring gash across his jaw, which also twists the hole it creates in his cheek terribly. The slight gleam of his scimitar's keen edge is a direct contrast to his nicked and blood-stained armor, and his long, thick hair reveals his scarred, grim face.

Kali'naj slips Orlisk's flask under his belt under his cloak and withdraws his spear. He is just about to run off into the shadows as ordered, when the sound of marching reaches his ears. An unseen scowl crosses a shadowed face and the scout backs up towards Orlisk, weapon held at the ready. "I told them... Didnt I? We sssshould have let the prisssoner go, but no one ever lisssstenssss to me. I'm jussssst a sssscout." The wraith-like orc shakes his head and wishes HE was in charge so that things would be done properly. Like this camp. All spread out, with no thought given to defensive structure.... Stupid bosses.

[<#4602>]

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" comes a hiss from the left flank of the force. A red-clad uruk bearing a large war axe with a long lock of hair hanging from the pommel steps forward. He is garbed in red ring mail which bears the device of The Eye crossed with axe and hammer, and a long black shoulder cape lies draped across his left arm. Gakhast is his name, Teguk of Minas Morgul, and behind him stand ten similarly-armed and armoured uruks from his garrison, all wearing the emblem of Mordor. They snap to attention at Gakhast's command, the well trained ranks of the Ushataar Krimpatul, Mordor's Finest, standing in anticipation of their leader's commands.

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" More harsh whispers in the language of the Southeast come from the red uruk, and he gestures for the troops under his command to follow their leader up the embankment. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" a shout towards an uruk in the back rank who casually mumbles a crass song in the speech of Mordor, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Finished chastising the disrespectful orc, Gakhast turns back to the remainder of his troops. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Quickly they oblige, knowing the Teguk's easily-tempted wrath, and begin to scamper up the embankment with Gakhast slinking behind them, muttering words of 'encouragement.'

[<#10607>] Pough growls, pulling his axe from his crude belt, looking upon Z'macht, "<Morian Uruk> Aye lord, I will gather my smiths and diggers," He rumbles, "<Morian Uruk> We will travel at the rear and be first to welcome any who wish to overcome our speed." Perhaps a slight grin might be discerned upon Poughs features, his crimson eyes flashing in the dancing torchlight.

[<#29406>]

Durbmog pauses for an instant, then darts towards the nearest wagon, scaling it quick as a flash. He narrows his eyes, cups a hand to his ears, then drops back down to the turf.

Calmly gripping his hammer just below the head, the Uruk-Hai draws it, hefts it. "<Morian Uruk> It's a large force marching -- and marching from the east. No Morians these -- arm the camp! Arm the camp! To arms!"

[Orlisk(#24926)] Reaching out with unknown speed, Orlisk grabs the younger scout and pulls him in range of hearing. "Kali'naj.. You come with me and what ever happens stay close." Releasing the scout just as quick Orlisk drops his flask to the ground as he starts a quick pace approaching the outline of the encampment. With a quick and silent wave of his hand, Many of the black clad elite scouts come forth from the shadows and stand firm infront of the Senior scout. Bellowing orders to the group and starting out, Many of the elites are soon lost as their pace to them quickly to the eastern flank of the other army. Stopping in his tracks about 10 large paces beyond the edge of camp, Orlisk turns and glances back towards the Warlord and also to make sure Kali'naj is still following.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Boom! Doom! Boom! Doom! The drums start up, low and slow, building in tempo as the Morian camp mobilizes. Ranks begin to form up, crude ones at least, and they wait for orders. Archers file past where Pough had supplied a barrel of arrows. Boom! Doom! Boom! In the darkness roll the wardrums.

Z'macht brandishes his mace and secures his armor. No longer does he need to care for a tribe - only himself! A greedy grin slithers across his malevolent face as the Under Ruler of Moria awaits orders from the Warlord of the Black Pit.

Ripping first the right then left forge hammer from the holsters at his waist, Laerecht hurries toward the assembly of the Warlord. Gaining speed with each pummeling stab of his massive feet, the huge uruk feels the blood lust intermingle with the adrenaline already coursing through his black veins.

Extending his pace, the monster bellows deeply, "<Morian Uruk> Come then! Come! Feel the Ghashobazog flame rekindled!"

Streatching his gaping maw almost serpent like, Laerecht bares mangled teeth bordered by two giant tusks in a deafening roar.

[<#20766>] Reaching the top of the mound, Badog narrows his crimson eyes for a moment, identifying the host about the fire as another orkish host. A soft growl erupts from his throat as he peers to his side at Rudgut, 'Just bloody wonderful.' Badog hisses hoarsely as he looks back towards the group over the hill. 'Mountain goblins, I should expect. Warden, you speak the Black Tongue, stay with me.' Badog looks over his shoulder back towards the group, a snarl passing over his lips as he beckons Gakhast, 'Oi. Captain, come up 'ere n' follow us. Double-quick.. If you please.' Badog idly tightens his gloves before turning back to Rudgut, bending slightly to reach Rudgut's short height, or thereabouts. "... of advice, ... ...-... ..... ... matter ... ... ... ..., try ... ... ... a Teguk with ... ... ... .... They ... themselves ... ... ... ...." Badog raises back up and looks back around at the group, 'The rest of you, keep about twenty paces behind us.. Keep your weapons ready. But if any one of you starts a scrap with these filthy worms, I'll slice your ears off, see?" ... ... ... look ... ... and ..., making a ..., .... He ... before ... ... ... down ... ... towards ... ... .... ...! ... ... ... the ...!' ... ... allowed ... ... ... ... ... ... group.

Kali'naj looks at Orlisk, then at Durbmog, then back at Orlisk... only to find the scout running off. "Oh fer The Flame's sake..." the scout shakes his head and dashes off after the senior orc. His head swivels left and right, wondering just who these -specially- black clad scouts are. He arches an unseen eyebrow and doggedly follows Orlisk, making sure to keep his step light and quiet. His good speed allows him to catch up with the SS, and he elbows the sharku in the ribs as they pause. "Care to 'xplain?" he hisses.

[<#29406>]

"<Morian Uruk> Don't fire the first shot unless I or the Latadurub give the order," Durbmog thunders, his deep bass resounding throughout the Morian camp. "<Morian Uruk> Maybe their intentions aren't hostile. If they are, they will be dealt with!" He raises his hammer, roaring, "<Morian Uruk> Hail Flame!"

This speech concluded, the Warlord starts silently towards the bulk of the amassed Morian fighters. "<Morian Uruk> Move the preponderance of warriors towards the eastern end of the camp," he orders, "<Morian Uruk> but keep some to the west to protect the baggage trains. Scouts, I want you to move to either side and protect us from outflanking! Latadurub, come and stand by me! And the prisoner is to be taken towards the western end of the camp, as per the Latadurub's orders!"

[<#10607>] Pough roars to the open air above, cupping his hands around his mouth, "<Morian Uruk> Uruk of the iron tunnels! Ralley now, and prepare for war! Move the supplies. Any smith or digger who brings me back a piece of forein equipment, will be rewarded modestly!" He shakes his head and begins to move, a small group of miners close in his wake.

Badog turns to look at Gakhast and Rudgut, making a gesture, "C'mon". He murmurs before beginning to throd down the hillside towards the Morian encampment. "Hola! Hola Orcs of the Mountains!" Badog cries allowed as he begins to approach the group.

[<#27424>] Rudgut says in Mordain Uruk, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"Slippery bastards, these. I wonder how they'd taste to Her Ladyship."<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

[<#27424>] A quick nod is all Badog gets, as Rudgut, Her Ladyship's Warden of Cirith Ungol, slides the bow back into it's slot and pulls forth his shield once more. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" the goblin muses as he follows the Lugburz orc.

[Shukrak(#21561)] Taking the initiative, Shukrak nods to Ghashburzh to follow along with the group, and after a moment's pause, trails after his leaders.

[Pough(#10607)] The scrawny form of Worthrank sits jabbering to himself upon a wagon, ignoring all that goes on. His yellowish eyes flickering about, harsh cries and screeches arising into the air. "Yes, stone! Ah yes, they wish to keep the prisoner, yes? Ah yes, so they do. They listen to Worthrank, priest of stone, do they? Ah yes!" His insane shrieks and screems continue without stopping...

[<#27431>] As the Mordain draw ever nearer, the Morian camp forms up according to the Warlord's plan. A team of stout snagas scurry to the prisoner's tent, rapidly down it, and drag the contraption, rotting fabric and all, through the mud and to the west. Slosh! It is there were the bulk of the Morian forces are being amassed, a heavily armed guard of smiths and miners staying back to guard the supply train. Quick moving scouts jostle to either side of the camp, making dark wings of orcflesh meant to guard against any flanking attack. No volleys are fired yet, however, and for all the action, silence weighs heavy in the night. A good deal of nervous energy.

Z'macht tightens his helmet and marches to Durbmog's side. "<Morian Uruk> What do you think? Of the lot of our prisoner? If so, pray to the Flame they wield not the sorcery in that blade!"

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Following Shukrak, Ghashburzh continues to stride on, and his face becomes more reserved, though still looking fell and vicious with its grisly scars. He readjusts his grip on his scimitar and lowers it further as he trudges on with the Mordain host.

[Pough(#10607)] Obviously, Pough both wishes and suspects battle, keeping his Uruk excited and ready if this thing should occur. By now, the main force of forge-orcs and miners have gathered 'round their own carts and wagons, making sure that they lose none of their precious cargo. Weaponry, armor, all things metal and a small array of supplies that belong to the gatherers.

[<#29406>]

'Orlisk! Laerecht!' The Morian Warlord booms, voice echoing over the clamor of the Morian encampment. "<Morian Uruk> Come hither! Should we need to 'negotiate,' the Latadurub and I shall require your presence. And the rest of you, when I -- or Z'macht -- shouts 'Ghash' that shall be the signal to attack -- if it becomes necessary. If they attack us, attack as well!"

As Z'macht comes alongside him, Durbmog lowers his voice, leans towards the Latadurub. "<Morian Uruk> Do you hear their voices? They're Mordain. They were speaking the Eastern dialects, and they have that nasty East-orc accent. We shall wait several moments, then we shall hail them. I will defer to your negotiational skills when we speak to them."

[<#4602>]

Murmurs break out in the ranks of The Eye. Whispers of a coming battle, rumours flying of teaching the mountain goblins a lesson in proper worship pop up. Gakhast's left hand darts outwards, however, shutting the horde up for now. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he says, turning to Shukrak who stands near him. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Not waiting to hear his second's reply, Gakhast shoulders his axe and jogs towards where the uruks of Lugburz and Ungorzagh stands, arriving just in time to catch the Warden's words. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he says, taking his place next to Badog. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

[<#31676>] a nearby snaga is kicked forcefully, the wardrums are hoisted, flame is a-flicker. As the camp awaits orders-a silence reigns; "<Morian Uruk> Boom! Doom an' Boom agin'! All rally now to the flame!", "<Morian Uruk> Kill scum", odd-shouts rupturing through the assembled horde..

His massive roar careening to a savage halt, Laerecht turns to acquiesce as per the orders issued by the towering Warlord.

"<Morian Uruk> No better day for the blood to flow again! Too long have I waited. Too long!" Adjusting the armor beneath his reacquired cloak, the monster looks up at the bending Hai. "<Morian Uruk> As you command, Warlord."

Taking a defensive stance beneath Durbmog, the leviathan waits...

[Orlisk(#24926)] The sound of metal on metal is sharply heard as Orlisk frees his black scimitar with ease. Taking another deep draw of air he turns to Kali'naj and speaks. "The smell of war, scout. Prepair your spear.. The enemy draws near. All else will be explained later." A continous gaze towards approaching army and the sounds of the same, make Orlisk's ember eyes flicker wildly like the flames of Moria. Turning back towards the Warlord, Orlsik yells out towards. "The SCouts are ready, Great Warlord." Turnign back to the enemy, Orlisk awaits.

[Pough(#10607)] Worthrank is knocked off the cart by another and is forced to walk, however unwillingingly. His golden eyes flicker and dance over all he sees, his flee-ridden hide shivering from time to time. Holding his small spear into the air, the old one continues to croak out the same question to all he sees: "'Ave yer evah stuck a needle in a' eye?" They seem to understand and laugh, even though the words are spoken in the little ones harsh Westron.

[<#27431>] Z'macht nods solemnly, looking at the obsidian silouettes sprouting on the horizon. Mushrooms. But poisonous or tasty? He tilts his head slightly while speaking. "<Morian Uruk> I've heard the dialect before," he says, hastily wrapping another layer of gauze over his recently severed fingers. "<Morian Uruk> Not often. But I have heard it." His voice is slow and deliberate. Guaze already soaking black and sticky. "<Morian Uruk> We've done well not be be caught unawares. I commend your aptitude, Warlord." Again, studying the closing force. "<Morian Uruk> They will not be hard to manage, now."

[<#29406>]

Durbmog's eyes widen at a snippet of conversation he hears drifting through the din of the camp. "<Morian Uruk> No Westron!" he shouts, then snaps a moment later, "<Morian Uruk> Orlisk! I want you at my side, not across the camp!"

Corners of his mouth tugging upwards, Durbmog murmurs to Z'macht, "<Morian Uruk> Indeed. Hail the Mordain, Latadurub -- let us respond to their call."

[Pough(#10607)] In a moment, Worthrank is kicked in the head and thrown upon a cart, for the time unable to bother any.

[<#20766>] Watching the Morian orcs line up, a wry smirk grows across the old Liuetenant's face as he slips his bow into its holster over his shoulder, and takes his shield off his backpack and on his left arm. Badog's head turns to look at Gakhast, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog idly scratches at his fangs as he looks over at Rudgut, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog tugs his cloak over his shoulders, partially obscuring his equipment and armor. He quickens his pace slightly, only about twenty to thirty feet away from the Morian horde now. 'Hola I say! All those days in dark places ruined yer hearing, Orcs of the Mines? We aren't here for a scrap. We come to ask you a few questions, see?' Badog cries hoarsly as his squinted eyes scan the occupants of the Morian line. 'Well then. Who's in command here? Presuming you've got a leader amongst you.' A snide sneer passes over Badog's lips, his teeth emerging behind cracked black lips.

[<#10607>] Pough calls out, keeping his Uruks' spirits motivated, "<Morian Uruk> You pit slaves!" He bellows, a slowl upon his face, "<Morian Uruk> Keep in line! If you are going to be dum, you must remember to be strong! Hail Flame!" This is followed by another chorus of, "<Morian Uruk> Hail Flame!" And so the chant continues.

[Orlisk(#24926)] Noding quickly to Durbmog's words Orlisk looks to the other scout and speaks quickly. "Let us return to the Warlord's side at a quick pace." Bringing his attention back to the warlord, Orlsik starts a sprint to the great one. Wading through noises and words of many, the movements of Orlsik finally make it near the Warlord. Listening intently to the enemy's words Orlisk remains silent but firm in a ready stance..

[Shukrak(#21561)] Amidst the slowing masses of black troops can be seen a dozen in reddish-tinted armor, heavy, plodding uruks of fell appearance and grim demeanor. There is no joking among the dreaded Ushataar Krimpatul, the fighting shock forces of Mordor. Their leader, the uruk lieutenant Shukrak, pauses behind his captain, Gakhast. His scowling face turns this way and that, analyzing the tactical situation briefly, before he begins barking out quick, monosyllabic orders to his troops. The red-armored warriors obey unhesitatingly, jogging with a clink and clammer this way and that to direct other troops -- it's obvious they're concerned about their rear and flanks, despite the diplomatic overtures by their leaders.

Z'macht nods, knowing it is time to speak. He walks forth, heavy boots leaving depressions in the sodden earth. Step slosh, step slosh. Sometimes they fill with murky water after he boot is raised. Othertimes not. He cups gauzed and bleeding hands to his mouth and shouts in thickly accented westron:

"Lo! Foreigners! We need not our eyesight to hear you several leagues away!" There is laughing but then it is stifled by a whip. "What questions do you have? And if you come not for battle, why are you arrayed as so? The Demon below protects his Horde close to home. Do not be daring, but send a messenger forth so that we may hold council before deciding upon your death!"

[<#27424>] Rudgut keeps close to Badog's side, eyeing the archers before him. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE WHISPERING>" He hisses and does not remove his gaze from the Morians.

[Kali'naj(#31252)]

"We go here, we go there, we go everywhere but never -do- anything!" Kali'naj half grunts, half chuckles, and followes off after Orlisk... again. The lanky scout moves over the ground with ghoulish grace and comes to a stop next to his mentor. His long spindly fingers clench and unclench around the cold metal shaft of his spear, watching the Eastern Orcs. "Well thisss issss jusssst plain bad," he mutters under his breath, "we posssture and inssssult. That'ssss not how to avoid battle." The scout shakes his head and disapears with a jerk and a dash into the ranks to do a quick scout of the outer edges of the camp.

[<#29406>]

"<Morian Uruk> A touch confrontational," Durbmog observes. "<Morian Uruk> I like it. A very -- skai! I hear them talking the blackspeech. 'Slaughter ... best' ... the treacherous warg-whelps! We'll demand to see their leader between the camps, I think."

[<#31676>] Guzlug turns to Pough; "<Morian Uruk> Hail Flame!", and gains tighter hold on his scimitar; "<Morian Uruk> Will we see battle?" He looks enquiringly at the Master - Hammerer, "<Morian Uruk> Guzlug hope so", indicating the Mordor horde with a black grin.

The broad lips of Laerecht ripple noislessly as the cranium housing them trains upon the every move of the new arrivals. Thick fingers undulate rythmically upon the sweat stained grips of the hammers in his grip as he stands steady before the Warlord.

"<Morian Uruk> Their words are the twisted cronings of a breed wench. Bah!"

[<#4602>]

Gakhast nods to the speaking Badog as he drops back a score of paces to consult with the Krimpatul behind him, singling out Shukrak alone to hear his orders. "... ... ... ... ... ... ... them ... ... ... ...," he whispers harshly in the tongue of Mordor to his second. "... ... ... survive that .... ... my ..., ... half ... ... ... ... the ... ... their ... and ... ... ... ... there-" Gakhast points at one of the uruks among the ranks of the Krimpatul who looks to be somewhat ranking, "-... take ... ... ... other side. And make ... ... ... take .... ...?"

[<#6155>] From the shadowy and clustered ranks of yet another large clan of Mordain warriors, a towering figure emerges. Standing perhaps seven feet tall, the black form is doubly high as the squat troops aroung him. With a lumbering gait, the hulk approaches the small knot the ranking officers. To the Mordain, the shape will be recognized as that of Ak'lag, riding atop the shoulders of Lorthok. To others, yet far off...the shape might resemble something else, something quite different, perhaps.

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>", Ak'lag whispers hoarsely, jabbing his elbow into Lorthok's neck, a signal, apparently to have the mammoth brute descend to walk on his knees, bringing the Tek'rak to a much lower vantage point, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Shukrak nods his understanding of the teguk's orders and, without pause, snaps to catch the attention of a nearby logaz, to whom he relays the orders.

Pough looks upon the taller, though skinnier Uruk to speaks to him. Frowning, he shuves him lightly, "They are from the East. I believe it is so." His words rumble towards the other. Once again he looks Guzlug over, snorting. "Who are you? You are not of my mines? Perhaps you are a smith?"

[<#20766>] A wide smirk spreads across Badog's evil face as Z'macht speaks. Badog turns to look down on the short Uruk of Cirith Ungol at his side, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The Lieutenant utters in the speech of Barad-dur, of the Eye. Badog looks back towards Z'macht and smirks, 'We could spot your pretty little bonfire miles away. Only a fire crude enough to be of cave goblins and hole-dwellers. Indeed, we saw no need for stealth ofcourse.' Badog calls out, his voice hissing with what might be described as a honey-coated Orkish accent. 'We come ready for battle for the orcs of the Eye are always ready for battle, day or night, at home or abroad. And as for me coming over to you? Nay. I am no fool. We shall meet half and half, see?' Badog calls out, pointing to the ground between himself and Z'macht. Badog glances over his shoulder, making a silence gesture to the orcs behind him, then to Rudgut he mutters in Morbeth, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog utters before turning to look back at the Mordian. He begins to walk forward, without delay or hesitation, arriving at the average center of ground between Z'macht and the Lieutenant of Barad-dur.

[<#4602>]

"<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Gakhast says, noting the newly-arrived Pulgor and jogging away from the ranks of the Krimpatul to consult with the Tek'rak. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Gakhast does not wait for the Pulgor's reply before jogging back to where Badog and Rudgut stand, facing off against the goblins of the Flame.

[<#27431>] Z'macht immediately whips his head around and snaps to no one in particular, thick saliva flying from his enraged maw. "<Morian Uruk> Find that nay-sayer and see that he receives a proper lashing! Two score! Moria is a place of discipline and those who disrespect superiors will pay a grievous price!" He turns back to the Shadowy Host arrayed some distance away, trying to regain his composure and speak in a civil, yet firm, tone. Z'macht's face looks as if it's stretched too thin, deep scars crisscrossing its sallow entirety. A whisper to Durbmog. "<Morian Uruk> One can't be a willow in the wind, eh?"

'You speak well for a people not able to keep track of their own miscreants,' Z'macht says to Badog. 'Know your death is certain if any tomfoolery comes about.' We begins walking towards Badog. "<Morian Uruk> Mount archers on these wagons. Our most talented. I may be in need of a sharpshooter Ready the flanks. And watch for the call word, eh?"

[<#31676>] Guzlug's eyes rove over the stocky uruk; "<Morian Uruk> No sir, I have no tasks set me, 'cept fightin' for the flame",

[Shukrak(#21561)] Whatever may be the case with the other forces of the Dark Lord, the heavily armed and armored dozen members of the Krimpatul lean forward hungrily, armored fists gripping great battle axes as they eye the approaching figure of Z'macht. Intelligent beyond the norm for orcs, they appear nonetheless eager for battle, and their eyes--tinted red by the reflecting fires of the Morians--glimmer with anticipation.

[<#27424>] Rudgut frowns, but nods to Badog. Turning back to the camp, he yells, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Pausing, he spits and glares back down at everyone, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

[<#29406>]

Durbmog lowers his war hammer, holding it firmly at his side. "<Morian Uruk> Be prepared, Z'macht," he rumbles. "<Morian Uruk> Orlisk, Laerecht, if the East-orcs attack Z'macht, you will rush to aid him."

Beating his chest menacingly against with both hammer-wielding fists, Laerecht salutes. Dust billows from the monster's dingy armor and attire as he verily leers at the newly arrived host.

Eyeing the seemingly on-edge dozen backing Shukrak, Laerecht gnashes his teeth behind an eerie grin almost playfully. "<Morian Uruk> Yes, Warlord! Those twelve will be a fine match for this Ghashobazog!"

[<#6155>] Ak'lag nods as he confers with Gakhast, his face twisted in thought as the words of the Teguk of Minas Morgul are imprinted in his mind. He turns around- or, Lorthok turns around, and begins crawling quickly back towards the rear-guard. Within moments, whatever was spoken has been passed down through the chain of command...to the Rakarg's, the Logaz's, and so on...

After a couple of minutes, the figure of the Ak'lag/Lorthok duo reappears at the fore of the second line of troops. The Tekrak calls back to those behind him, his shrill voice masked by the rustling sounds of scores of crouching warriors, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

[Orlisk(#24926)] Noding to the words, Orlisk starts to slowly work his way towards the Latadurub. Moving like a snake and trying not to be too obvious, Orlisk stops firm and stays a few paces from the other. Still clenching his scimitar tightly, a slight growl emits

[<#10607>] Pough looks at Guzlug again, nodding. "<Morian Uruk> You do well to join the ranks of the digging orcs. You will recieve payment, and better armor." He pauses, listening to the murmers that surround him like a sea of gossip. "<Morian Uruk> You wish to serve the flame. There is no better profession. We are the bloodlife!"

The master hammerer turns away and holds high his weapon of choice, shouting to the masses. "<Morian Uruk> Protect your own! Strike back if they strike first! Hail Flame!"

[Badog(#20766)] And so, in between the two hosts of Orcs and Uruk-hai, Z'macht and Badog meet. Badog, the smaller of the two, growls in a feral manner as he eyes Z'macht approaching. "Right then. Straight to the point. I am Badog, Lieutenant of Barad-dur, and hand of Commander Orc and the Nazgul. But my title is not important. I have followed the tracks of a certain Uruk through the area. He bares the markings of the Eye's orcs, and he holds with him a..." Badog pauses, a sneering smile spreading across his thin lips, "A trinket, which I should have. He also must answer to his peers for abandoning his beloved Masters." Badog explains, his eyes squinting slightly as he peers at Z'macht. A bright intelligence burns in his eyes, those snide, sly crimson eyes. Even his frame suggests his means in life is brain rather then brawn; his mail dangles on his body, and his arms are thin and frail. "Have you seen him?" Badog finally growls in a more glutteral and Orkish manner.

[<#29406>]

"<Morian Uruk> To sally to *Z'macht's* support," Durbmog rumbles, "<Morian Uruk> *Not* attack their host, should it prove necessary. You must leave that to the army and save Z'macht, if they attack."

[Orlisk(#24926)] Noding to the words, Orlisk starts to slowly work his way towards the Latadurub. Moving like a snake and trying not to be too obvious, Orlisk stops firm and stays a few steps from the side of Z'macht. Still clenching his scimitar tightly, a slight throaty growl emits from between his dark lips as he stares hard at the Mordian, Badog. No words spoken from this scout, only harsh thoughts of unknown.

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Staring half-blankly ahead as if passively absorbing all information that can be gathered about him, Ghashburzh, tall Dog of Minas Morgul, watches the meeting of the representives of differing Orcish armies. Keeping a firm grip on his scimitar, he stands impassively, and though his faces shows no noticeable emotion, his eyes seem to analyze everything. He swallows, and his larynx the size of one of his overlarge fists slides up and then back down. He absently shifts his weight to his left leg, and seems almost relaxed, though somehow expectant; his will seems cold and resolved.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Meeting face to face with Badog, Z'macht weighs the other uruk with his eyes. Jet black skin. An intelligent gleam. Not quite sure what that Eye means. Confusion crosses his face but then is gone.

"You are correct. I am not concerned with Nazgul or tyrants in far off lands. I am concerned as to why you have braved going so near yonder wood," he points to the north and east, "to track down this, as I say, miscreant." The Under Ruler's eyes narrow. "Obviously, you speak the truth. You are no liar. You want this thing he has. And badly. And I will tell you openly that we have it... Very odd artifact, yes?" The creature's voice goes low and brings with it a grinding, metallic quality. "In fact, we were thinking of presenting it to our Master as a Trophy. Can you pursuade us otherwise?"

[<#4602>]

The leader of the horde departed to speak with the head of the opposing force, Gakhast withdraws back to the ranks of the Krimpatul, still standing where he left them. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he grunts to the dozen or so that stand at attention, brandishing his axe as he gazes on at the meeting taking place in the centre of the plain. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Negative murmurs surge through the ranks, disagreeing with the Teguk's statement. The slouched backs of the troops creak and whine unnaturally as they attempt to stand at attention even more in the face of the Morians.

[Kali'naj(#31252)]

Taking intiative, Kali'naj goes over to a small cluster of the -specially- black garbed Scouts he saw earlier and taps one of them on the shoulder. The small huddle of orcs turn to look at him, as if disturbed that such a lowly beast should interupt their plotting. Undaunted the cloaked cobug speaks to them in hushed tones, gesturing expressively with hands and spear. He kneels and starts drawing pictographs in the dirt with a grimy claw-tip. The scouts look at his outlines, at each other, and surprise is clear on their faces. An -apprentice- scout thought this up? Clearly somebody in the chain-of-command's been asleep at their job. Kali'naj looks up from his place and makes a gesture that appears to be asking what their opinion is. The scouts appear to think it over, then nod in approval. Kali'naj stands, whipes the dirt from his knees and nods as well. There's a moment's pause, and the scout-huddle breaks up, disappearing into the shadows.

[<#31676>] Guzlug listens to the Master Hamerrer's words, and when he turns and shouts as does Guzlug, one eye on the meeting in the middle; "<Morian Uruk> Hail Flame!" .. Then he turns his head once more to enquire; "<Morian Uruk> Were I that I was wearing armour now but a rusty mothridden snot-all, unfortunatley I am not, just a rag.."

[Badog(#20766)] A pale grimness glazes Badog's face as Z'macht speaks. Catching himself off guard, Badog quickly grins, a snide chuckle hissing out of his lips. "Do not be so hasty to guess on a wild imagination. Firstly, you say braved? Braved." Badog turns to face the woods nearby, spitting at the distant forest, then turning back to look at Z'macht. "You think the Orcs of Mordor fear those who dwell inside the forest? Troll dung and maggot piss stuffed into tights, that's all they are. You'll do good to remember that." Badog takes a deep breath in and hooks his thumbs onto his belt. "And as for this .. Trophy?" Badog sneers another snicker, "Your .. Demon would take it and gauge your eyes out with it. It is nothing but a novelty trinket that belongs to me. We hunt this missing orc for no orc leaves Mordor without death seeking him out. And we," Badog lifts a hand up to gesture at the Mordian orcs, "are death."

[<#10607>] Pough watches the on-goings of Z'macht and Badog, through the spaces between Uruk. Hearing Guzlug's words, he leans toward him, muttering into his ear, "<Morian Uruk> That is the price you pay for idleness." His words come forth in a deep rasp, flowing thickly toward the other.

[Z'macht(#27431)] "The fact remains," Z'macht replies. "You have come far from home for a mere trinket..." Now his voice mutates into a hiss. "And I have seen what it has done to the orc who bears it! That orc who is no longer an orc! Something twisted." Back to business. "We considered cutting his hand off to get at your precious blade .. yes "precious" .. that's what he calls it .. but decided, rather, that the blade is more attractive looking with his tortured form clinging to it. He is mere decoration for that steel." A pause. "And we will take it and return to the mines unless you offer us reason to give it to you other than a hollow threat." Z'macht nods his head slightly. "Would you like to make an offer now, sleep on it, or try your hand against the Might of the Demon?"

[<#6155>] Ak'lag, meanwhile, is busy lashing two stirrups to the saddle around Lorthok's neck. He places the large bowl which has been hanging at the dimwitted Dog's belt onto his melon-like head, tapping on it thoughtfully. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Durbmog remains silent, though a narrow smile twists his mouth. He watches the Mordain and the Latadurub speak, fascinated.

Barely audible sighs and creaks slide from the pommels of Laerecht's weapons as he glares evily at Badog. Corded arms flex and sag, flex and sag with anticipation as the Mordain concludes his case.

"<Morian Uruk> Let them come, by Grunnu, Let them Come!"

[<#27424>] Rudgut crouches still at the top of the hill, peering down at the meeting between Badog and Z'macht. Squinting, he tries to read their lips but to no avail. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" With this thought he licks his lips, and pushes the spear tip a little farther in front of him.

[Badog(#20766)] Sneering slightly, Badog straightens his back as he peers up at Z'macht. After a moment of silence, Badog shrugs, "Fair enough. I will offer you exactly what this thing is worth. The orc I demand back for he is ours to snap, and not yours. Fifty gold coins, and I'm adding a few extra because of your... Hospitality." Badog utters with another snide snicker, clasping his hands together and rubbing them coarsly, as if to warm them up through the cold night.

[Pough(#10607)] Worthrank awakes, discovering that a massive headache has overcome his entire cranuim. "Stone!" He shouts, again in West. But he is reminded that the language is forbiden by a harsh jab in the stomach. Groaning, he falls silent and begins scuttling though the forest of legs that is his world.

[<#29406>] Durbmog guffaws loudly, smacking the butt of his hammer against his chest. "<Morian Uruk> Hah!" he laughs.

[<#31676>] Guzlug scratches at his scar, thoughtlessly; "<Morian Uruk> Yeeesss," said with tongue pushed against yellowed fangs; "<Morian Uruk> Some skills of mining are mine to employ, .. " but his question is broken off, by a rupture of snickers through the camp ..

Z'macht nods solemnly, whispering to Badog before raising his voice. "Well, Lietenant, I would be inclined to accept your offer on a pure personal interest." He raises his hands and shows the Mordain two stumps where fingers used to be. Black blood soaks the bandages there, thick and congealed. "I owe the King some money, see..." And now the voice raise: "But ... Why should I take fifty gold florins when I can beat two hundred out of you?"

Deep chuckling rolls from Laerecht's curled lips as Z'macht harasses the Mordain representative.

"<Morian Uruk> They are but worms! See how our Latadurub makes petty sport of them!"

Pough chuckles, turning briefly toward the Warlord and then back to Guzlug, "Snaga," He rumbles again, "You will join my miners' ranks as an apprentice and fight with us tonight, if we should have the luck." He pauses, once again turns and looks to where the two representitives speak, "From now on, you will only recieve orders, and ask no questions. Ready your weapon."

[<#20766>] A pair of squinted crimson eyes follow Z'macht's stunted fingers with a distainted interest, perhaps a hungry interest, before Badog peers up at Z'macht again. A wide, perhaps friendly smile spreads across Badog's lips, giving the Barad-dur orc a sickly glaze as he bends closer to Z'macht, his voice cracking down into a hoarse whisper. "... ... ... all your .... See?" He hisses, his smile now turned into a displeased sneer, his eyes narrowed and piercingly staring up at Z'macht. Beneath Badog's cloak, shadows flicker, perhaps hands are moving.. Or perhaps it's meant to seem like that.

[<#29406>]

"<Morian Uruk> Z'macht," Durbmog rasps, "<Morian Uruk> Watch out. I think that orc plans some treachery -- watch him closely!" He tenses ...

Laerecht takes a few steps forward toward Z'macht as the Mordain leans in close in hushed tones. Catching the movements under his cloak, the monster bares yellowed teeth menacingly behind their outthrust tusks.

"<Morian Uruk> The Warlord speaks true, Latadurub! His cloak!"

[<#27431>] Z'macht narrows his eyes and readies himself. His hand drops to his weapon and he raises his voice in Morian dialect. "<Morian Uruk> If he strikes, burn them all with the Scourge of the Flame!" An uneasy pause. 'You have time to rethink your offer, Badog. Foolishness will only earn you a shallow grave.'

[Badog(#20766)] A sharp nod is offered as Badog leans backward, a coy grin growing on his face as he watches Z'macht's reaction. "That all depends on the view of foolishness, Goblin. I will take time to rethink my offer. My throng carries only fifty, but I shall check should my fellow officers have more with them." Badog sneers, in a rather easily defeated tone etched with hissing, "Wait here." He murmers before openly turning his back on Z'macht, and begining to walk back towards the Mordian group.

[<#29498>] Chiayk Moves slowly out of the Morian encampment. Her face is set as flint and her eyes as cold as death. She lets her eyes scan the area and disgust rises within her. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" The words seem to drip from her lips like acid. She focuses her attention on the largest gathering and notes that many are fingering their weapons. She spits a yellowish wad of phlegm to the ground and then makes her path in that direction. Her body begins to tense as she draws near and she spots Z'macht. Altering her path slightly, she makes way to draw near to him.

[<#10607>] Pough turns to his miners and smiths, peering at them through the eye-slits in his strange helm, "<Morian Uruk> Uruk of the Flame, ready your weapons and gear! Prepare for the call sign. Warlord Durbmog shall cry the word..." His voice raises another level in volume and he raises his axe, "<Morian Uruk> We shall bring back their blood in pints!"

As hand readies by the Latadurub's weapon, Laerecht strides purposefully to Z'macht's rear. Hammers still clutched in his sweat dripping hands, the leviathan speaks close in Moria's second's ear.

"<Morian Uruk> Trust him not, Latadurub. I can smell his falseness!"

[<#29406>]

"<Morian Uruk> Z'macht!" Durbmog roars, raising his hammer. "<Morian Uruk> Let him rejoin his army, and he will give the order to attack!" He tilts his head forward, prepared to snap down the visor of his helm.

[<#27431>] Z'macht nods and watches Badog turn his back, thinking how nice of a target it would make. Sneering, he begins to take a few steps backwards then calls over his shoulder. "<Morian Uruk> We smash them now. GHASH!!!!!" Z'macht stands guard, holding his mace ina defensive position.

"For Ghashobazog and Flame!!!!!"

Laerecht roars deafeningly at the back of the Mordain, his teeth bared threateningly as he attempts to target his first foe. Like a teathered dog, the massive creature starts and stops, starts and stops in accordance with the Latadurub.

"Come, Mordor! Come to the Flame!"

[<#20766>] The Barad-dur Liuetenant strides along quickly back towards his group, without looking back over his shoulder. A wide grin spreads across his face as he offers a shrug towards Rudgut. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog calmly utters to the commanding officers of the Mordian host. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog adds with a stiffled yawn, glancing over his shoulder now as Laerecht cries, a shrug is all Badog offers. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Badog, once again, rather calmly utters as he continues to walk into the now moving throng.

[<#29406>]

Snapping down the visor of his helm, Durbmog exhales sharply, metallically. "<Morian Uruk> Let us cover ourselves in Mordain gore," he snarls. "<Morian Uruk> But remember, Orcs of Moria -- pitched battle is a bonus, not a goal! Should we begin to be worsted, retreat! HAIL FLAME!" This last is a thundering shout.

Shukrak gapes momentarily, not sure if he heard his officer's words correctly, but as an Ushataar Krimpatul warrior, he was not trained to question such things. In a split second he wheels about, black cape flapping the wind as a purple sheet of lightning flares overhead, and calls out a gutteral command. As one, the dozen Krimpatul guards bellow out war cries and, with a jingling and clanking of harness and weaponry, they spring forward across the plains toward the Morians, battle axes raised and glimmering. A flight of arrows hisses overhead, loosed from the Sauronic troops guarding the flanks of the Mordain host. Shukrak charges along with his fellow warriors toward the Morians, mindless of any odds, shouting as he lopes and springs over hummocks and stones.

[<#27424>] Rudgut grins at the Lieutenants orders. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" With a smile, he shrugs off the spear and shield, and quickly slides the pre-strung bow from his back. ''Archers, ready!'' he shouts over his shoulder. Knocking an arrow, he shouts back over his shoulder. ''Fire!'' and sends his arrows to fly along with the rest of them. As soon is the shot is released, he scoops up his equipment in a bundle and begins to move back towards the ranks of the Eye.

Rudgut launches an arrow...

Rudgut's bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

With a nod towards Badog's, a slumped, one-eyed uruk bearing the mark of Minas Morgul turns to the troops at his disposal. A wicked, cracked scimitar is wielded by the orc, and he steps to the forefront of a group of archers that stand at attention. Raising the blade, his face a portrait of hideous wrath, the cyclopic orc brings the scimitar down with heightened fury. "FIRE!!" he shouts, lapsing into halting common speech. Immeciately, a barrage of arrows issues forth from the Mordain ranks, aimed at the charging Morians.

[<#10607>] Pough's tattooed face pulls back, a bellowing cry emanating from deep within the vast regions of his deep chest. Stepping forward he raises his axe, calling over his shoulder, "<Morian Uruk> Uruk of the mines of Moria! Cut their throats and drink their blood!" Suddenly, the Master Hammerer's powerful legs begin pushing forward into battle.

[Chiayk(#29498)] The signs of forthcoming battle are clear and the she smiles. Perhaps she may actually get to kill a few males. The though itself buoys her up and her pace quickens. Within the warm familiar embrace of adrenalin coils around her as the dance of death begins. The reasons behind it all does not matter. But killing, oh yes, that does raise ones spirits. The pace quickens still further, until the she is in a full run, mace in hand and grin on her face. What a glorious day this is turning out to be.

[<#31676>] Guzlug raises his malefically black swords; "<Morian Uruk> ... BLoOd!!", re-iterating the master hammerers promise ... But, then, he hears the battle - sign; "<Morian Uruk> GHASH!" and prepares to charge forward with his unit .. accompanied by roars, insults and the occassional yelp as some hapless uruk is trodden underfoot in the charge. . "<Morian Uruk> Come to the Flame!"

[<#27431>] Z'macht is immediately hit with a Mordain arrow and pushed further backwards. His weapon is still hefted, however, and he manages to yell a few shrill commands to his troops. "<Morian Uruk> Smash them to bits!" The arrow burns in his arm like Demon's wrath. "<Morian Uruk> Scouts, flank! Miners and smiths, forward! Warlord, seek their leaders at my side!"

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Without another word, Durbmog lowers his war hammer in a sweeping gesture. The Morians begin to move, solid ranks of Mountain-orcs rushing slavering forward.

The Warlord barrels forward, his pale eyes blazing with hideous, savage joy from beneath the sneering iron visor of his helm. His battle-cry echoes.

The sickening *thunk* of a dart implanting itself in flesh startles Laerecht into frenzy.

"<Morian Uruk> They've struck the Latadurub! Hold nothing back, Moria!"

Barreling forward, the massive Ghashobazog tears toward the onrush, his pumping hammers begging for the hide of the predestined Shukrak.

[Shukrak(#21561)] The first to charge, leading the Krimpatul, Shukrak meets up with the first melee opponent among the Morians. Raising his battle axe as he runs, he aims a terrific, sweeping blow at his opponent's midsection as he almost passes by.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and he misses!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Bellowing in his harsh, monstrously low voice, Ghashburzh rushes forward, keeping his position somewhat to the side in the advancing Mordain hordes. His strides carry him quickly and easily forward as his face is torn with the savage lust of war, his scars twisting terribly in fell shapes as his demeanor turns hot and his sword is raised in battle.

[Badog(#20766)] Standing on the knoll as the Mordian host rushes past him, a rather bored and bland look washes over Badog's face. This was obviously something he was more then used to. Sliding his shield strap onto his arm, Badog takes out his bow again, knocking an arrow into the compsite weapon. The arrows are thick and oddly shaped, with rivets in them designed to inflict more damage should someone try to pull the shaft out. Drawing back the taut string with a tensioned noise, Badog's keen eyes search the plain for Z'macht, aiming carefully as the goblin moves backwards...

With a heavy twist of his massive bulk, Laerecht avoids the incomming lateral slash of his foe as it whistles dangerously past his thick chest.

In Westron, the large uruk taunts his opponent, "Is that what that sniveling little 'eye' teaches your lot, eh worm? Hit me, snaga! Hit me!"

Laughing heartily, the beast aims a weighted punch towards the others grisly features with a hammer backed fist, while it's counterpart laces for the same's left kneecap.

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak badly wounds him!

[<#4602>]

Using the barrage of Mordain arrows and the charge of the Krimpatul brigade as proof enough that the battle has begun, Gakhast races towards the fray. His shoulder cape flows out behind him as the uruk thunders across the battlefield. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he yells as he halts momentarily behind the troops under his command. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Seeing his second embattled already, nearly drawing first blood from the other uruk, Gakhast grins wide. Globskai hefted in both of his hands, the lock of hair that hangs from its pommel swinging about viciously as the Krimpatul looks left and right, Gakhast glances about the battlefield for a Morian worthy of his skills so as to show his Tek'rak what a Teguk is made of.

[Rudgut(#27424)] Reaching behind the lines of the soldiers, Rudgut drops his excess armor and quickly pulls loose another arrow, fitting it and drawing. Sighting along the arrow, he slows his breath, and feels the pent up power within the bow's wood. Holding his breath, he releases the string, and feels the arrow slide off like a ballista, shooting high into the air towards it's target.

[Combat(#13388)] Rudgut brings a Bow to a combat ready position quickly knocking an arrow to the string.

[Shukrak(#21561)] Although the hammer strike misses, dealing with two weapons at once is something Shukrak was ill-accustomed to. The mailed fist slams into his helmed head with terrific force, sending the orc reeling backward a couple of steps. He takes a moment to steady himself, axe held defensively, before stepping back into the battle and, snarling, aims another wide, round-house blow at his opponent.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!

[Z'macht(#27431)] Recovering from the Mordain arrow, Z'macht joins in the Morian charge, rushing forth and penetrating into the superficial ranks of their melee combatants. He can faintly make out the tangled outline of the Lieutenant, and continues to drive that way unless his progress is broken. His speed is ever increasing.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Durbmog advances steadily, the links of his mail clinking and clanging as he charges forward. "Who among the Eastern cowards dares face me?" he roars, brandishing his hammer. "Come and face me, wretches! Face me or quake in fear before the Warlord of Moria!"

Rudgut launches an arrow...

Rudgut's bowshot hits Durbmog, mildly wounding him.

[Badog(#20766)] As Z'macht begins rushing through the Mordian charge, Badog grins, closing his left eye as he lines the arrow-head up with the Morian goblin. "Here's yer trophy, flame-licker." Badog murmers to himself as he releases the arrow with a loud THWANG, the missle zips through the thick air towards its target, Z'macht and his head.

Badog launches an arrow...

Badog's bowshot hits Z'macht, lightly wounding him.

As the trailing hammer in Laerecht's off hand misses it's mark, the large uruk compensates by bringing it fully around to deflect the lacing hack of Shukrak's battle axe.

"Oh? And where are your sniveling cronies now, snaga?! Bring Laerecht a challenge!"

Pushing forward with the blocking weapon in his left hand, the huge Ghashobazog attempts to pin the Mordain's weapon while aiming a downward blow with the spiked extremety of the primary hammer wielded confidently in his right.

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak moderately wounds him!

Shukrak takes the spiked hammer blow on his off-arm, which had been upraised to counterbalance the miss of his previous strike. A couple of rings from his armor pop off, clinking to the ground as the soldier pivots about, and aims another axe blow, this time backhanded, toward the midsection of his opponent.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Another arrow hits Z'macht, not far from the first, and his progress slows. Momentum, and the lust of battle, however, drive the creature forward, the bludgeoning head of his mace raised. "You've had your chance, Badog of the East. It may be your last!" Soon he will be in striking distance unless he takes a particularly grievous wound.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and you parry his attack with your War Hammer!

[Orlisk(#24926)] Orlsik awaits no longer, with eyes now blazing wildly like the Great flames of Moria. Starting a quick sprint towards the enemy at the side of Z'macht, Fury is deeply carved in the face of this Scout. "Scouts.. Burn them" With those words spoken into the air, the speed of his feet increases. "For GLORY!!" Raising his scimitar high in the air, Orlisk sees a arrow fly over head. The Mordian Rudgut is seen shooting arrows, Orlisk chooses him and starts advancing towards the uruk. At his command the Black Elites hidden at the eastern flank of the enemy start setting many fires to the ground before advancing with the others.

[<#6155>] Ak'lag drops his arm, and scores of archers release their arrows, shafts singing though the air. Torches are lit, and the next volley of arrows from the Pulgor troops are dipped in tar and ignited before being launched...yellow streaks of fire arching over the dome of night above. The Tek'rak, meanwhile, shreiks to his underlings, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" Guttural cheers ring out as the ranks respond, and the crack-troops strike forward behind Ak'lag.

Ak'lag and Lorthok rush out to face their foes, Ak'lags spear sticking outward like a lance. His charge takes him towards Laerecht...hoping to impale the hammer wielding-warrior, Ak'lag gives it his all.

[Combat(#13388)] Ak'lag grits his teeth and pulls a long barbed spear from the loop at his side where it is bound.

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

"I will face you, oh grand slinker of the flame, poor lord of Moria!" Gakhast hisses to Durbmog from several yards away, his snarling voice lapsing into the speech of the West in answer to the Warlord's cries. The red-clad uruk hefts his axe and makes a move in the Warlords direction, closing to within a few feet of the creature. "Coward is strong word to be used by such a cave lurker as yourself. Come face the wrath of The Eye and know true servitude!" With this, the Teguk of Minas Morgul attacks. It is more a gauge of his opponent's abilities than anything else, as the Krimpatul lunges cautiously forward with his axe, in a move to impale the creature upon its point.

Gakhast attacks Durbmog with his Battle Axe, but Durbmog parries the attack with his War Hammer!

Ak'lag attacks you with his Scimitar!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Ghashburzh runs up quickly and roars into combat, attacking Pough. He keeps a two-handed vicelike grip on his scimitar, and the light of the closer fires glints off his scimitar and faintly, but gruesomely illuminate his disfigured face, wrought with the fell fury of war in the name of the Eye.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

[Badog(#20766)] Calmly, Badog puts his bow back into its sack, and slowly rubs his fist against his lips, wiping them dry as he watches Z'macht rush up the hillside. He rather thoughtfully pulls his cloak back behind him, and off his shoulders. He then takes his buckler off his back and slides it onto his left arm, his right arm latching onto a hilt fashioned in the shape of a serpent. He draws it, revealing a rather standard, but sharp, fang-shaped scimitar. Sliding his feet apart, Badog grins at Z'macht as he waits for him.

[Combat(#13388)] Badog brings a Bow out of a combat ready position swiftly returning an arrow to the quiver.

[Combat(#13388)] Badog draws the rusty handled scimitar from it's sheath. It's blade is totally unlike the sheath or the handle. It looks ready to kill.

[Combat(#13388)] Badog puts on Wooden Shield.

Chiayk's feet fly as the she move at utmost speed. Her body seemingly to glide over the ground. If she could pick a moment to distill life to this would be it. The battle. Killing. Nothing comes close. Stutter stepping past a embattled group the she continues to smile and run for all she is worth. Arrows hiss overhead and her path to her target diminishes.

[<#10607>] Pough dodges to the right, followed closely by those directly under him, his keen eyes scanning for a target. Letting lose a low, gutteral roar, Pough enters into the frey and is now surrounded by Mordain and Morian alike. All fighting for their lives. Judiciously, Pough begins to search for a target, suddenly becoming calm and aware of all.

However, dispite his readiness, Pough feels a tearing sensation in his back and spins, roaring into the face of Ghashburzh. Without a word, the Master Hammerer of Moria, assumes a defensive stance and returns the attack.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and badly wounds him!

Pinning hammer streaks sideways to deflect Shukrak's backhanded blow, even as his right seeks to intervene with his foe's face a second time.

*Shhhhhhhreeeeee*

A line of ink splashes the outer cloak of the attacking Laerecht as a scimitar from the crowd impedes his attack.

"Oh? This is what you call to defeat Laerecht? Ha! This freak is perfect for the hammers of this Ghashobazog!" Spreading both arms wide, the huge uruk hunches his back as he trains each weapon on each opponent. "Come to Laerecht!"

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

You forego your chance to attack.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Rynn's arrow hurtles through the air, hitting Durbmog square on the chest -- and falling to the ground, bereft of energy. Durbmog grunts at the impact, continues to press forward.

As Gakhast thrusts his axe, Durbmog swings his hammer in a tight, sweeping arc, directs the spike away from his body. "Servitude?" the Warlord sneers, taunting, "Hah! I'll show you a thing or two about servitude, *snaga*." Thrusting his shield straight at Gakhast, the Morian brings his hammer around in a wide, vicious arc, clearly intending to reduce the Mordain's skull to so much pulp.

Durbmog attacks Gakhast with his War Hammer, but Gakhast parries the attack with his Battle Axe!

[Z'macht(#27431)] Gritting his teeth, Z'macht throws his weight towards Badog, aiming to get on level ground with his foe, or even the advantage. While pressing his wooden shield at the Mordain's face, he sweeps at Badog's flank with his mace. His maw hangs open and black blood oozes from the now out-of-mind wounds on Z'macht's hands.

Rudgut's gaze searches from atop the hill. Watching, waiting, and watching again. The form of Orlisk catches his attention, bringing his focus on this orc that dares challenge him. Lips curling into a sneer, he draws back an arrow, and releases it with a satisfying 'Fffft!'. Paying no more attention to the arrow, he drops the bow where he stood and scoops up his spear and shield, charging forward to meet Orlisk.

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace, but Badog parries the attack with his shield!

Rudgut launches an arrow...

Rudgut's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Rudgut removes Bow.

Rudgut puts down a Bow.

[Combat(#13388)] Rudgut brings his Spear to a combat ready position.

[Combat(#13388)] Rudgut slides a wooden shield into place.

Shukrak swings at Laerecht, ducking under one hammer strike now that his attention is divided.

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Bellowing with pain and rage, Ghashburzh reels sideways from the blow he receives from the axe of Pough. But having felt quite a bit worse before, the effect of the counterattack does nothing to his resolve and only strengthens his warlust. Leaning forward and bringing his scimitar down on the form of the Morian Orc, he slashes fiercely with rage instilled by years in the service of the Eye, which has given him a multitude of his hideously grisly scars.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

"Skai!" Gakhast hisses, turning aside the Morian's blow with his great axe. "You swing like a pushdug-brained albai! Come to Dushgoi and we'll teach you a lesson or two about how to use that hammer!" Blocking the shield of the Warlord with the other end of his axe, the metal-on-metal sound of his pommel hitting his foe's shield squealing out into the night, Gakhast uses his opponent's attack to leverage a counter-attack of his own, leading out with the blade of Globskai in a move towards his opponent's armoured torse.

Gakhast attacks Durbmog with his Battle Axe, but he misses by an arm's length.

Badog watches Z'macht's devastating weapon soaring in for a fatal blow to the frail Uruk. Quick thinking leads Badog to smash his shield up into Z'macht's attack, deflecting the blow. Badog begins to circle around Z'macht, holding his scimitar low, now and again spinning it idly in his hand. A feral growl purrs from Badog's maw, but for the most part he seems calm, if not very alert. Watching Z'macht carefully, he tries to spot a juicy defenseless spot, and quickly makes a jab at it!

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

Another thin line of ichor paints Laerecht's upper clavicle as the battle axe of the lunging Shukrak finds a miniscule niche in the monstrous uruk's mangy armor.

Spinning abruptly, Laerecht roars mightily, gnashing his teeth evily at his attacker as he starts toward him once more. A lowered shoulder of the huge creature seeks to bear the Mordain down just as the hammers below streak skyward under Shukrak's chin.

Amidst his charge, Laerecht croaks gruffly over his shoulder, "Wait right there, freak! The Flame has patience enough for you!"

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak badly wounds him!

Chiayk catches a glimpse of an arrow just leaving the shooters bow and changes her path to engage a Mordain <Rudgut> . She watches and then times the assault as the Mordain switches from bow to spear. She had hoped to engage him with nbow in hand though it really is of no consequence. As the distance drops to combat ranges she plants her forward foot and swings at the belly of the Mordain <Rudgut>. "Die you worthless pig" she yells as the mace slices the air.

<Moria> Laerecht says, "whooohoo!"

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace, but Rudgut parries the attack with his Spear!

Shukrak again takes the ringing blow on the face, and all the legs from the spider-shaped helm supposedly protecting his head snap off, raining down like sparkling darts upon the ground as the tek'rak flails backward. Shukrak chokes on his own blood, coughs out a spray of it as he regains his balance, and mindlessly springs back into battle, snarling as he sweeps another hissing blow at his opponent.

[Orlisk(#24926)] Not stopping his pace, Orlisk lets loose a throaty laugh as Rutgut's arrow goes wide. Finnally approaching the uruk, Orlsik brings his scimitar to his side as his feet plant firm upon the ground. Shifting his weight for a heavy blow, Orlisk sends his scimitar out in a thrust aimed for the others gut.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

Orlisk attacks Rudgut with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Unable to gain ground at first, Z'macht suffers a blow to his flank. His jaw clenches and sweat begins to pour around the circumference of his ill-filling helmet. Remembering past mistakes, the Latadurub now jabs at Badog's head, trying to keep his foe off balance and keeping his own shield tightly held against his body.

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace and badly wounds him!

[Pough(#10607)] His foes attack strikes its target, drawing ebony blood from a gash in his right arm. Dropping down once again, Pough begins to side-step to the right, keeping his shield well into his head. He pauses, and then chances a vicious side-swing from left to right and down, aimed at Ghashburzh's leg.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and badly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Durbmog snorts, stepping back out of range, axe swishing past him. His eyes narrow, glittering with concentration. The Warlord bellows a wordless war-cry.

A flick of his wrist, a lunge, and the hammer's cruel backspike tears viciously towards Gakhast's chest.

Durbmog attacks Gakhast with his War Hammer and badly wounds him!

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Behind the foreward line of battle, the ranks of Mordain Pulgorburzob warriors under Ak'lag's command follow their orders, shaking inky and sticky trails of tar along the ground as they crawl almost on their bellies, trying to remain unseen. The archers, meanwhile, continue to pound the Morian lines at the utmost distance their arrows will reach.

Lorthok and Ak'lag charge at the Morian before Shukrak once more, Ak'lag leading with his SPEAR (that looks alot like a scim...:P), aiming for the stomach of Laerecht. "Feel death, vile breed of the cave!"

Guzlugs legs propel him further into the clash of battle, foe meeting foe on both sides of the wiry orc. He lowers his scimitars to waist height, pointing forward making for the disturbing shape of the orc-orc combo .. aiming for a weak spot on the 'steed', he makes a swing..

Ak'lag attacks you with his Scimitar!...

...and you block his attack with your shield!

Rudgut stops his charge, letting Orlisk's blade fly harmless in front of him. With a grin, he raises up his shield and slashes forward with his spear, the head of it seeking toward's his opponents throat. He attacks with a reserved strength, as if gauging his opponent first.

Rudgut attacks Orlisk with his Spear and mildly wounds him!

Chiayk'brow drips sweat form the sprint to the lines and rivulets run down the forehead of the she and fall to the ground. She braces for the counterattack of the Mordain and is fortunate that he chooses to strike instead at Orlisk. She rolls to her right and as she comes full circle, tries to drive the mace deep into his belly as the Mordain <Rudgut> makes his own attack.

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace and moderately wounds him!

[Ak'lag(#6155)] And as he attacks the orc, Ak'lag's blow is deflected...while concentrating on his effort with Laerecht, he did not take proper care to watch his right flank. In comes the blade of Guzlug, and the side of Ak'lag is wrent open shallowly at the kidney. The Tek'rak sags slightly, swinging with his tined-prosthesis at the end of his arm downward at Guzlug in desperation to thwart a repeat blow.

Somewhat surprised as his opponent's weapon strikes gold in the midst of it's wild swing, Laerecht takes a single step back. Just one.

Licking the black rivulet slowly trickling the length of his scar swollen visage, the monster leers madly at Shukrak even as he deflects the lance headed to dissuade him from his foe.

"Bah! Skai! Wait your turn I said. I'm sure your weepy little eye has plenty of your like to send my way!"

Following the taunt, both hammers leap to life in the massive creature's paws as the bear down again upon the Mordain.

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak badly wounds him!

[Badog(#20766)] A quick jab from Z'macht leads to the defense of Badog to be too lax; the mace makes contact with Badog's face, the studs ripping flesh along his cheek and neck, black blood instantly oozing out. Hissing, Badog stumbles backwards, and quickly turns and spins around as he gauges distance between himself and the enemy. Lolling his tongue out of his mouth, Badog laps up some of his blood, anger stinging Badog's face like a hornet. "Gah!" Badog cries as he quickly side-steps and slashes down at Z'macht's weapon-arm!

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Feeling his opponent's axe rip into his upper leg, Ghashburzh bellows even louder. A little blood spatters on the ground, and Ghashburzh stumbles slightly before shifting his weight. He gives another strike at the arm of Pough.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar, but Pough parries the attack with his Axe!

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

He turns aside, the Teguk of Minas Morgul, but it is too late. The backspike of the Warlord's hammer burrows painfully into the meat of Gakhast's pectoral muscles, black ichor issuing from the flesh and splashing on the handle of his foe's axe. Gakhast screams a wordless scream as pain circulates through his form at the injury, and a red rage clouds his vision as he moves to strike back. Hissing and growling, his acid remarks now reduced to a frenzy of blood, Gakhast swings his axe wide in an arc, to catch his foe and drive him back.

Gakhast attacks Durbmog with his Battle Axe and moderately wounds him!

Shukrak ducks one swing, barely, as it swooshes over his helmed head. Again, however, his lack of dealing with two weapons coming at him comes to play again, and he takes another hammer blow, this time directly in his armored side. He is pushed off one foot and almost goes down, hopping in pain with his hideous face contorted with rage. Snarling, he readjusts his grip on his axe and slashes at his adversary.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

Z'macht tries to follow up his successful blow with another, but is partially thwarted. He roars has Badog deflects his weapon arm downward and to the side, opening up a nasty ghash in it at the same time. Likely, Z'macht's attack will only function as a buffer between the two combatants.

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace, but he misses by an arm's length.

Pough leers back, knocking the Mordain's axe out of the way, just inches from his face. "Well..." He mutters, extending the crimson shield out infront of his chest a little, before once again lashing out at his foe. His eyes flash in the fire-light, lips pulling sharply back in reaction to the attack. The morian's axe this time is directed for the orcs waist, from right to left.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe, but he misses by a hair.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Gakhast's axe rips through the top of Durbmog's shield, sinks through layers of chain mail and deep into his left shoulder -- the shield sags. Black blood flows from the wound, spatters the axe-blade; the Uruk-Hai steps swiftly back, eyes narrowing with pain, breath hissing suddenly between clenched teeth ...

The Warlord's breath explodes from him in an animal roar, dreadfully loud, conveying bestial rage and battle-fury. His redoubled attack is nothing short of monstrous; he swings his hammer with prodigious force, still roaring, aiming a massive blow of the blunt end of the hammer for Gakhast's head.

Durbmog attacks Gakhast with his War Hammer and severely wounds him!

Another slash slips through Laerecht's defenses as the monster neglects to calculate his enemy's counterattacks while off balance.

"A little spunk it seems.. A pity it's waisted on a Mordain! Ghash!"

Licking a second time at another slash accompanying the first, the giant sighs. "Had you marred my insignia, I would have disembowelled you while you lived, and feasted upon your entrails! Now, die!"

Both arms spread wide, Laerecht roars mightily as he brings the pair careening inwards toward the unprotected cranium of Shukrak.

[Orlisk(#24926)] Bloody curses and almost all swear words are screamed as Rudgut's attack pierces through Orlisk's shoulder and makes alittle dark blood seap out. Stomping around in a fit of anger and suddenly to his surprise, he watches as Chiayk's mace strikes Rudgut. "My the flames bless you warrior of Moria." Raising his scimitar again, Orlisk starts to sidestep to try and suround the uruk. With a leap and burst of speed, Orlisk raises his scimitar again and sends it down in a heavy arch aimed for the right shoulder of Rudgut.

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak severely wounds him!

Orlisk attacks Rudgut with his Scimitar, but he misses by a long shot.

[Badog(#20766)] Quickly jerking his head backwards away from Z'macht's swing, Badog stumbles backwards as he regains his composure. Instantly, he rushes forward, almost in a tackling motion, only to halt quickly and use his momentum to swing his black blade across at Z'macht's neck, Badog's cloak fluttering around as Badog moves quickly, and a strong wind picks up over the bog lands.

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Shukrak's cranium was, in point of fact, protected, but not adequately enough, it would seem. He takes yet another blow on his helm, this time forcing it down into its wearer's head and causing Shukrak's knees to buckle. Semi-blind with blood from the previous wound and the helm that now nearly covers his eyes, the Mordain orc snarls and aims a half-blind blow at his assailant.

Shukrak attacks you with his Battle Axe!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[<#27424>] Shelob's Warden does not even notice Orlisk's second attack, for his attention has been turned to this new opponent that strikes in at him. Grazing across his chest, it breaks loose several scales, and thin lines of blood form, but no grevious wound. With a hiss, he moves back to maneuver both of his opponents in front of him. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he growls and strikes forward at the same time, blade strikes down and then up, towards Chiayk's belly.

Rudgut attacks Chiayk with his Spear and lightly wounds her!

[Guzlug(#31676)] Licking his dry lips absent-mindedly, Guzlug spies his scimitar tear through a weak area of Lorthok; "Hehe, lets see you off and onto your own legs,", he growls at the rider, not spying the club-arm of Ak'lag bearing down upon him. It strikes his upraised scimitar of his right hand, but the power sends him sprawling backwards..

[Z'macht(#27431)] Slice! Z'macht can feel a large gash open over the back of his neck. Sticky, black blood pools and runs between his shoulderblades. He can feel it seeping through armor. Cloak. The Latadurub takes heart and decides to return a hefty blow, wielding his mace high overhead and bringing it down at Badog with a hammeing motion.

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Grinning a bit in his warlust while he watches his opponent's axe miss its target, Ghashburzh roars, exposing his fangs and stretching his scars in merciless forms. Slashing again at his opponent's arm, he attacks in his now somewhat better controlled rage, keeping his weight mostly on his right leg.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar and badly wounds him!

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace and lightly wounds him!

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

A loud *KLANNG!* rings out as the hammer connects with the helmed skull of Gakhast. The steel of Mordor is the only thing that stands in between Gakhast and death at the end of his foe's hammer, and the force of the blow sends the Teguk sprawling to the left. His ears ring, and he hears no more, deafened by the blow. In a fit of rage, passion and anger mounting to create something truly ferocious in the glare of this uruk-- despite the fact that the very axe-arm that made him Teguk is failing him now-- and Gakhast springs forward, throwing the bulk of his weight behind a swing designed to force his foe's legs out from under him and buy the Mordain a moment of time.

Gakhast attacks Durbmog with his Battle Axe, but Durbmog parries the attack with his shield!

[<#29498>] Chiayk watches as she over commits to the attack perhaps, or maybe being overconfident. The Mordain extracts his price upon the she as the spear seeks her own belly and the spears marks yet another soon to be scar upon the body of the she. She steps back and then snarls. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" She steps in close and drives the mace hade towards his face.

Pough hisses, the scimitar dragging through his rippling chest muscles. The Morian's rumbling voice rasps through clenched teeth. "I will buy my skin back in blood!" Again dropping down he swings out from his protective stance, spinning the weapon around, he attacks with the curved back-spike, aiming again for the others left leg.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and moderately wounds him!

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace and badly wounds him!

"Cheeky, scum *(@$..."

A stream of curses leak from Laerecht's wide maw as once again the battle axe finds it's mark upon his upper thigh.

"Unfortunately your last, snaga. Perhaps I'll take you to the Watcher if I can save some of your melon!" And with that, the monstrous uruk spins a tight circle, both hammers unfurling as he opens into a wide armed swing, off handed weapon following it's counterpart in a backhanded pummel.

You attack Shukrak with your War Hammer...

You have defeated Shukrak!

[Combat(#13388)] Shukrak's weapon "Battle Axe" falls to the ground...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Shukrak fatally wounds and defeats him!

[Badog(#20766)] Crouching down low, Badog glances up at the towering mace above as it soars down towards him. Quickly darting nimbly to his left, the mace catches Badog's right arm, creating a gash down it and splitting open the cloth about his arm. A hiss spills from his maw as he spins the blade in his hand again, only this time stopping the rotation of the blade, and holding the scimitar up like fang. Quickly, the Barad-dur Uruk lunges forward at Z'macht and brings the scimitar down in a stabbing motion!

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar, but Z'macht parries the attack with his Mace!

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Durbmog rotates his body and interposes his shield between himself and the vicious axe-stroke; Gakhast's blow rips a long tear in the leather at the bottom of the shield, jerks Durbmog's wounded arm slightly. He winces. "More ... favorably impressed?"

But the question is rhetorical. The Warlord's eyes glitter with giddy bloodlust from behind his iron mask; he leans forward, swinging his war hammer diagonally at Gakhast's left shoulder.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Lorthok grabs at the orc before him, hoping to capture and lift Guzlug into the air, where Ak'lag can have a nice close chop at his throat. Great hands stab out, fingers exended and clawing for flesh or fabric. Ak'lag is momentarily busied by trying to stab at Laerecht. He barks at Lorthok. "Step on Shukrak's axe, Lorthok!" The big brute tries to comply while focusing also on his afforementioned intent.

Gakhast collapses to the ground, defeated by Durbmog!

[Combat(#13388)] Gakhast's weapon "Globskai" falls to the ground...

Ak'lag attacks you with his Scimitar!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Z'macht(#27431)] By luck or skill, Z'macht manages to avoid Badog's stabbing blow and pivot. This, it seems, gives the creature a brief respite. He centers his shield over his previous wounds and hammers again at Badog's head, caring that his weapon arm suffer no more insult.

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Taking another, though less grievous, wound to his left leg, Ghashburzh growls deeply as he stares with infernal rage at the Morian he faces. Slicing straight across his opponent's shoulder, he seeks to strike his adversary's arm while his grim face is set even more sternly, hideous in its resolute hatred.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar, but Pough parries the attack with his Axe!

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace and badly wounds him!

Laerecht recieves a nick on his knuckles as he bats away the lashing of the spear thrusting Ak'lag.

"I'm comming, I'm comming, Mordor freak! Come down and fight Laerecht orc to orc, weasel!"

A massive swing towards the sky from the huge uruk's primary hammer attempts to unseat the nub-armed uruk from his strange mount.

You attack Ak'lag with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Ak'lag moderately wounds him!

Shukrak takes one final, well-aimed blow under the chin, and it's lights out for the headstrong Krimpatul lieutenant. He is sent reeling backward, the many bones of his face driving backward and into his brain. He turns blindly about, legs wobbling as he mindlessly seeks balance, before his axe falls from his nerveless fingers and he collapses, a twitching, twisted wreck.

Pough takes the impact of the other with his axe, a tiny metal fragment flying into the air as a resounding clang arising into the night.

[Badog(#20766)] A massive blow lands on Badog's left shoulder, the studs ripping through the cloth like butter and sinking into the flesh, and probably creating some sort of fracture. Badog lets a howl out as he pulls backwards, blood oozing from his wound, his left arm, shield arm, hanging limp for a moment. Badog skips around nimbly for a moment, trying to recompose himself as pain rivets through him like waves of stinging ache. Holding up his shield after a moment, Badog jabs his scimitar out at Z'macht, not quite aiming at anything in piticular.

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar and moderately wounds him!

Pough takes the impact of the other with his axe, a tiny metal fragment flying into the air as a resounding clang arising into the night. Stepping to the left, the master hammerer keeps his position low, shield up and facing his foe. Once again he attacks, but alternates and swings at Ghashburzh's right leg, continueing to use the back-spike that tears flesh so nicely.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe, but Ghashburzh parries the attack with his Scimitar!

[Orlisk(#24926)] Spitting upon the ground and cursing some more, Orlisk knows he is out matched and starts to retreat from this fight. "Mightly Morian, Kill this light lover." Turning and while running back to the main forces still in battle he catches a glimse of the Latadurub in battle. Running to hopefully aid the great one, Orlisk hold his scimitar high again as he draws behind Badog. Sending his scimitar out in another heavy thrust aimed towards the uruk's chest.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] In the side, Ak'lag takes the blow. He is knocked OVER the head of Lorthok, and his body slides down the front of the Dog Lorthok. His left food remains stuck fast in his stirrup, and thus, Ak'lag is hanging ackwardly upside down, bruised badly, the cut on his side blown open and bleeding profusely.

"Skai! Lorthok, help me!", he crows, while jabbing at Laerecht's private region with the tines of his stub-arm.

Ak'lag attacks you with his Scimitar!...

...and he misses!

Orlisk attacks Badog with his Scimitar, but he misses by an arm's length.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Badog's blow sneaks around Z'macht's shield and opens a wound down the Latadurub's sleeve. He winces slightly, but is able to mount a counter attack. This time, the slightly more massive uruk tries to use his weight. He shoves at Badog, aiming to knock him off balance, and then hammers again at his foe's head - the only thing that has worked so far.

[Guzlug(#31676)] The monstrous mount plucks Guzlug from the ground as a blow from somewhere unknown sends its rider over Lorthok and dangling down in front him, Ak'lags face inches from a strike from Guz's blade

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace, but he misses by a handspan.

[<#27424>] Rudgut gives not a moments attention to Orlisk, so focused is he on Chiayk. His opponents attack has scored a hit on his side again, raking across his ribs and leaving a large gash. The only sign of pain given is the clenching of teeth, and a deadly glint in the two and one half foot tall uruk's eyes. Shifting his grip on the spear, he swings it in front of him with a quick snap, aiming to slice into Chiayk's throat. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" is all he says. Simple.

Rudgut attacks Chiayk with his Spear and mildly wounds her!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Harshly parrying Pough's attack, Ghashburzh grimly spits out a curse under his breath, sounding guttural and clipped. Dragging his scimitar up after clashing with the axe, he gives another fierce slashing attack, this time aimed at the Morian's head.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

Laerecht laughs as the spear jabs this way and that trying vainly to seek his flesh.

"You Mordor dogs sicken me."

With a great roar backed by hearty laughter, the huge uruk barrels head first towards Lorthok attempting to push him over with the butts of his hammers thereby sending rider and steed vulnerable to the earth.

You attack Ak'lag with your Bare Hands...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Ak'lag dodges your attack.

[Badog(#20766)] As Z'macht lunges at Badog, the nimble assassin quickly leaps to his right, narrowly missing the downfalling mace, and side-stepping the unseen attack from Orlisk. Badog quickly glances at the two, eyeing both enemy before he quickly rolls in between the pair, raising to his knees and slashing backwards at Z'macht's gut.

Badog attacks Z'macht with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

Chiayk tries to side step the uruks strike and the movement coupled with the chain take the sting out of the strike. Dropping the words tosses about in Morbeth she simple grins and says.."I would enjoy a private time gutting you but.." the mace head rears high. "You invited too much company" The mace arcs down towards the head of the Mordain as the light in the she's eye's dance with delight.

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace, but she misses by an arm's length.

[Gakhâst(#4602)]

A sickening crunch heralds the breaking of the Teguk's shoulder, the second time in as many months that the thing has given out, and Gakhast crumples from the blow. It is as if the previous injuries rendered his shoulder glass in the face of any and all attackers, and the thing seems to explode as it comes into contact with the Warlord's hammer. A final cry issues from the mouth of the Teguk, one last breath of air taken before the sullen blunt oblivion of the ground rushes up to meet him.

If there ever was life in this hapless shell of an uruk at one time or another, it is now spent. His hide a mess of scars from the battle with Durbmog and his armour is dented, bashed, and marred beyond repair. Mud and blood mix in the repository of the cold earth as the ex-Teguk of Minas Morgul spends his final seconds lingering on the ground, eyes struggling to stay open but failing miserably. It is a moment of crystal clarity for the orc, and from the second the hammer shattered his shoulder to the second his bleeding body hit the ground, it seemed almost an eternity fot the fallen figure.

Eyes rolling back into the depths of his skull, Gakhast takes one final look at his opponent before slowly collapsing to the ground. It is a funny thing that the two of them must fight, both bred of the same Master and sprung from the same source. Indeed, if not for the quarrel of their lords, the two of them would perhaps be allies and partners in the battlefield. War is a thing that does sad and strange things to those it touches, and the newest victim of its calloused touch is Gakhast, on his knees before his foe one last time, as if in subservience to a greater lord.

Then the spasms set in. First a jolt, then a shake, and then the Teguk's whole body explodes in a flash of sudden, jerking movement. From within the fray of clashing orcs, a trio of Krimpatul rush to the side of their fallen Teguk. Their leader, seeming a brave sort, runs straight at his master's killer, Durbmog, and throws a handful of dirt towards the creature's face as his companions drag the body of Gakhast towards the back of the Mordain forces. What a gallant figure Gakhast seems for one about to make such a nice meal for the snaga to snack on later, his crushed armour leaking the last of his lifeblood into the lingering loam and his axe left to collect dust at the foot of his killer. One last spasm is all that Gakhast lets loose before falling silent, his spirit drifting off towards whatever realm orcish souls call home, his body finally stilled forever.

[Pough(#10607)] The Morian jerks sideways and a red, hairy, object flies through the air, as Ghashburzh's scimitar slices the end off of one of Pough dreadlocks. The Morian growls, but remains contained, keeping low, now taking a quick step forward. Again the back-spike slices through the night air, making its deadly way for Ghashburzh's stomach, Pough's eyes intent upon this spot.

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and moderately wounds him!

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Lorthok puts out his huge hands, stopping the charge of Laerecht quite suddenly. The huge Dog reaches behind his head with one hamfist, then sends it pummeling towards Laerecht's face. Ak'lag, meanwhile, manages to bring his prosthesis before his face in the nick of time to prevent the slashing blade of Guzluk from spilling out his eyes.

Ak'lag attacks you with his Bare Hands!...

...and he misses!

[Z'macht(#27431)] "Oompf!" Z'macht grunts as Badog slices his gut. Soon, it's followed by a burning sensation and the familiar feeling of wet and sticky blood. Still, not into the muscle.. the blood loss is adding up, however, and the Underruler's attacks are progressively getting more sloppy. Room for error. Room for a well placed retort. As Z'macht swings again at Badog's ram-horned helmet, he wonders if his vision may be going.

Z'macht attacks Badog with his Mace and severely wounds him!

Rudgut sneers at Chiayk and steps deftly to the side, letting the mace strike nothing but air. "I'm sure you would, snaga. But I'm afraid you may not be able to oblige me." With an insane cackle, Rudgut catches the gaze of Chiayk, and his eyes read nothing of sanity. A chaotic fire burns in them, one that seeks blood and feels nothing else. Muscles bunching, the Warspear is shot forward, set to puncture straight into the gut of her.

Rudgut attacks Chiayk with his Spear and lightly wounds her!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Reaching through a little of his armor, the axe of Pough scrapes enough flesh off for Ghashburzh's blood to spatter a bit. Narrowing his eyes, he fiercely swings his scimitar across, again towards his adversary's head.

Ghashburzh attacks Pough with his Scimitar and lightly wounds him!

[Orlisk(#24926)] Orlisk tries his hardest but again he misses his target. Dark thoughts start flowing about how cowards flee and warriors stay to the death. Snapping back to reality adn watching the Latadurub's movements and tring to match them, Orlisk takes a wild and wide swing suddenly towards the legs of Badog hopefully to knock him off balance.

Orlisk attacks Badog with his Scimitar, but he misses by a mile.

Laerecht sidesteps as the bumbling fist of Lorthok descends toward his helmed cranium.

"A worthless tool this beast. I suggest you whine to your snively eye for another!"

Twin hammers pump upwards once again as they attempt to fully unseat the strange, one-armed Ak'lag.

You attack Ak'lag with your War Hammer...

[Combat(#13388)->Laerecht]

Your attack against Ak'lag lightly wounds him!

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Durbmog lets loose a snarling laugh, black blood oozing from his own left shoulder. What is a peck of dirt hurled at him? He bellows a deep cry of victory, brandishing his great hammer above his head. Advancing through the clouds of dust kicked up by the vicious melee, the Warlord kicks aside the Mordain champion's axe. He wades through the carnage flushed with victory, his pale eyes flickering this way and that, seeking Z'macht. "Latadurub!"

[Guzlug(#31676)] The monstosity had had held of Guzlug for too long, getting impatient in its care, Guz brings both swords up and under its arms; "Hands off, Mordor freak!"

Chiayk spits blood as the maggots spear yields flesh yet again. She stifles a response and instead , simply sucks air as the spear bites again into her flesh. She steps back a half step and glowers at her foe. It is in these moments where life is weighed with hate and anger and the outcome is unpredictable. She pulls the mace close and then thrusts it at as a jab to the groin of the Mordain.

Pough spits, a fair amount of blood arising from his shoulder. But still he makes no comment and keeps his cool... Though it is getting harder, and the Cobug is growing anxious. Sidestepping again, Pough spins his axe around, deciding to use it's wicked blade once again. In a quick, hacking motion, the Morian aims for Ghashburzh's midsection.

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace and badly wounds him!

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and terribly wounds him!

[Badog(#20766)] As Badog tries to roll away again, seemingly he's either distracted by the two enemy, or he simply doesn't move quick enough, Z'macht's mace makes contact with Badog's head, smashing one of the ram-horns and slicing into Badog's face, a nasty cracking sound is heard as the head of the mace smashes Badog's cheek and nose bones. The blow sends Badog spinning through midair, tumbling across the grassy, muddy ground. Slowly, Badog raises to his feet, his face covered in a sickly black-wine colored liquid. "This.. Isn't over." Badog hisses, before raising his scimitar. "LEG IT LADS! LEG IT! WE FIGHT ANOTHER DAY!" Badog cries alloud, before quickly literally throwing himself down the hillside in a rather unorganized leap.

[Combat(#13388)]

Badog dodges aside Z'macht, and manages to escape!

Badog turns upon the east road, beginning the trail that works the north side of the Brown Lands.

Badog has left.

Rudgut jumps to the side, but still the mace catches him in the thigh at least. Cursing as the spiked tip digs into his flesh, he wrentches his leg back, pulling the metal from his flesh. With a 'Haaaaccccchhhh' sound, he spits a wad of phlegm towards Chiayk's eyes, and launches an assault along with it, his leg not helping in the matter. To Badog's order he ignores, at least for now.

Rudgut attacks Chiayk with his Spear, but he misses by an arm's length.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Slash,slash! Twin blades cut under Lorthok's arms and at the same instant one of the hammers of Laerecht sends Ak'lag flying from his unwanted tether. Head over heels the tiny Tek'rak spins, finally hitting the ground on his feet, a ridiculously fortunate occurence. Seeing no reason to try to continue this fight, with some of the greatest Warriors he has known lying in the dirt lifeless, Ak'lag heeds the call of Badog and tries to escape from Laerecht.

[Combat(#13388)]

Ak'lag dodges aside Laerecht, and manages to escape!

Ak'lag has left.

[Z'macht(#27431)] Raising his weapon for another blow, Z'macht can only feel somewhat relieved to see his foe calling for a retreat. The Latadurub staggers a few yards after his opponent, but thinks better of it. Blood stains his body. It gathers in pools in his boots. It trickles between his shoulderblades. Z'macht can only manage: "Kill the stragglers! There are always fools who think escape will wait for them instead of them running to it!"

Chiayk follows up quickly as she avoids the counter strike of the Mordain. She stares right into his eyes and yells. "You still here..I thought I told you to die..." With that, the mace races high and then arcs down towards the head of the once archer and now spear wielder.

Chiayk attacks Rudgut with her Mace and lightly wounds him!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Screaming terribly and reeling back from the pain of Pough's slice like fire through his gut, Ghashburzh seems to have accumulated at least as much damage as he's ever taken. Seeing less and less with his eyes as his hearing sounds more and more like some kind of volatile underwater dream, and knowing all the more his closeness to Death, Ghashburzh manages a horrible scowl and forces his legs, though one is wounded, to try to force himself out of combat.

[Combat(#13388)]

Ghashburzh tries to flee from Pough, but he fails!

[Rudgut(#27424)] As again the mace races towards him, Rudgut has already turned to run. Spear flailing, it manages to catch the mace and redirect it, but still it bounces off the armor, leaving a bruise behind.

[Combat(#13388)]

Rudgut tries to flee from Chiayk, but he fails!

[Z'macht(#27431)] As more and more Mordain follow their Lieutenant, Z'macht relaxes and slings his mace at his side. Isolate duels are all that remain on the grizzled battlefield. The Latadurub walks over several corpses missing heads or libs on his way down the bloodstained hill. He is tempted to use his bow to chase off any stragglers. He thinks, then reaches back for his secondary weapon.

[Combat(#13388)] Z'macht takes off Wooden Shield.

[Combat(#13388)] Z'macht wields a short bow.

[Guzlug(#31676)] The twin blades seem to inflict some untold damage on the 'hulk-steed', as its rider is toppled from the saddle and sent sprawling to the floor. As the uruk; Ak'lag manages ro drag itself from battle, its servant; Lorthok is left nursing wounds under both arms ..

Turning momentarilly from his Mordain opponent in laughter appears to be a perfect moment for Lorthok to escape with his burden.

"Bah! What matter if that leaking cripple fights another day. Weak."

The giant uruk then turns languidly as he slowly wipes ink leaking from the slices marring his left cheek as he heads for the corpse of his fallen opponent. Stepping on Shukrak's lifeless chest with a single boot, Laerecht lets out a deafening war-bellow before looting the downed orc for any wages it might carry. Sucsessfull, the monster defiles cooly separates cranium from shoulders with the spiked end of his hammer before moving back into the fray.

Sighting the engaged Chiayk, Laerecht grins as the bloodlust spurs him to her side, racing with hammers outstretched towards Rudgut.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

The Morian Warlord stalks the field, moving towards the remaining pockets of melee combat -- in fact, he seems headed towards Chiayk and Rudgut's neck of the melee. Black blood glistens dully all over his shoulder; his eyes blaze. "Who will face me now?" the Morian roars. "Flee before the wrath of the Horde of the Pit! Flee!"

Pough roars as his opponent attempts a retreat and he stands to his full hight, pointing his weapon after Ghashburzh. "Your ass is mine!" He bellows, uttering words for the first time in a while. "Fall!" He roars, and within a matter of steps he swings down, hoping to catch the Mordains spine with the tip of his weapon.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Lorthok, though bleeding, has along way to go before dying. He takes off after Laerecht, jumping after him, trying to grab his heels as he dives. "Awwwr...come on back!", he shouts. "We'se not finish'd!"

Pough attacks Ghashburzh with his Axe and severely wounds him!

Ak'lag attacks you with his Bare Hands!...

...and he misses!

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Pelted again with a life-threatening hit from the Morian, Ghashburzh screams more weakly, and again attempts to throw himself out of combat. His lowered head is covered on both sides by his hair, which now folds over and hides his mutilating scars. After stumbling down from the blow, at nearly the end of his strength, Ghashburzh attempts retreat.

[Combat(#13388)]

Ghashburzh tries to flee from Pough, but he fails!

[Orlisk(#24926)] Orlisk chuckles and watches Badog flee and call the retreat. Turning to the Latadurub, Orlisk decides to approach and watch him ready his bow. Speaking only in thought, he watches the remaining patches of the battle still happening. Grinning slightly, Orlisk approaches the side of the Higher. Kneeling quickly in sight of Z'macht and returning to a firm stance, Orlisk decides to speak. "I will send my best scouts to track them and find more reasoning behind this meeting.. Unless you object?"

[Z'macht(#27431)] As all the other Mordain flee, one, Z'macht sees, is foolish enough to stay. Lorthok lashes out at Laerecht and earns a shaft aimed his way. The bleeding latadurub walks a few steps, takes aim at the stranded uruk, and lets loose his bow. "You should follow orders next time, dead dog."

Z'macht launches an arrow...

Z'macht's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Lorthok looks up...the arrow whizzes past his head. He turns, shooting a hot look at Z'macht, then looking around the field and seeing nary another living Mordain still present. His big dumb eyes falter in their assumed cruel-gazing. "Boss!?", he cries..."Boss Ak'lag?? Whereja go??

Outstretched fingers attempt to restrain the onrush of Laerecht to but little avail. A small stumble spins the monstrosity about to identify his attacker. Seeing the struggling Lorthok face down in the earth, the huge beast grunts.

"You again? Bah! Not even worth the end of my hammer!"

Turning again, Laerecht comes face to face with Z'macht. "Talashakh!" Beating his chest with both weapons, the monster continues, "It appears a spark still burns in the Gashobazog Flame, m'lord!"

Pough snarls, lifting his weapon, readying the final attack... Exhaling sharply, the large Morian pulls down his weapon with incredible force. "Flame!" He calls and sends it down, down at the Mordains back!

Ghashburzh collapses to the ground, defeated by Pough!

[Combat(#13388)] Ghashburzh's weapon "Scimitar" falls to the ground...

Z'macht visibly sways as he speaks, leaning now on his bow. "The Ghashobazog are dead... I know not of what you speak." Whether the Latadurub speaks from his blood loss, or from reason is not clear. "However... I am your Latadurub, not Talashakh!" Z'macht aims to backhand the hulking creature with his four-fingered hand. "Get me a shaman, louse!"

Z'macht attacks you with his Bare Hands!...

...and he misses!

Pough roars in triumph, staring at the carcass and then turning, walking away into the battle.

[<#29406>]

Durbmog begins to slow, now, stalking towards Z'macht. He raises his visor, brushing it up with the back of his right hand, hissing in pain as adrenaline fades and the impact of the deep wound that Gakhast inflicted upon him begins to make itself manifest. "<Morian Uruk> A brilliant victory, Z'macht," rumbles the Warlord. "<Morian Uruk> The Flame was with us this day. With you and me at the head of the armies of the Horde, we had little to fear from the Easterners! They'll think twice about attacking us in the future. Snivelling pit-orcs, indeed! Skai, but we showed them what we're made of."

Laerecht stutters slightly as he attempts to right himself.

"My apologies, Latadurub. It appears the battle frenzy has left my tongue a bit thick in my head. Let me counter my rashness by taking a look at those wounds."

Waiting for Z'macht's word to touch his bleeding figure, Laerecht studies the minor scrapes with interest, but focuses mainly on the arrow protruding from his shoulder.

"Warlord! Well met, m'lord!"

[<#27431>] Z'macht nods to the Warlord, wiping his various wounds dry. He visibly winces, his skin as though as on fire from the roadmap of gashes inflicted on him. "<Morian Uruk> You speak truly." Sway and bleed and sway some more. "<Morian Uruk> And I tell you one thing ... I intend to have some of this booty for my own keeping, and to pay off our .. King." He says this with a dirty taste in his mouth and then leans closer to Durbmog.

Chiayk follows up quickly as she avoids the counter strike of the Mordain. She stares right into his eyes and yells. "You still here..I thought I told you to die" With that,

Chiayk the mace races high and then arcs down towards the head of the once archer and now spear wielder. She commits fully, fully content that this will end this battle. As the blow is set to descent she watches the Mordain scurries off like a filed mouse caught in the open. She spits and smiles. "Flee maggot...Begone!" With that she turns to assess the battlefield.

[<#27431>] Z'macht +whispers to Durbmog, "... ... has ... us ... ... ... ..., .... ... ... ... fingers ... .... ... ... ... .... ... ... ... ... ... ... you ...."

[Ghashburzh(#11319)]

Gasping out a choked scream, Ghashburzh's form is shattered by the fall of the Morian's axe. Blood spatters from his mouth, and his eyes glaze over unconsciously as his last strength of life is shorn from his ripped, mutilated, tattered and finally beaten form. His scimitar is at last released from his vicelike grip, clattering dully against the ground, the solid weapon falling next to his own corpse.

Blood begins to form in pools about the body of the just-fallen Mordain Orc, seeping out his mouth, his multitude of wounds, and through his unique scarred hole in his cheek. His face blankly assumes its hereafter eternal form, and his arms lie with a bare twitch next to his body before coming to a final rest. Blood runs a bit off his left leg, and his tortured and defeated corpse is abandoned by what life force he had. Looking blank, but somehow grim and still sadistic by his scars, the body of Ghashburzh is left behind by his own retreating army.

[Ak'lag(#6155)] Lorthok looks about again. No one seems much interested in him, for some peculiar reason...walking slowly away, oblivious to any who might rush upon him from behind, the giant slowly lumbers in the direction of his humiliated comrades. As he passes the figure of Ghashburzh, he stoops. Picking up the form in his arms, he says, "You fought brave, dushgob. You not rot here. We make good soup of you back in Pulgor camp. C'mon, now...". His large figure continues its shuffling retreat.

[Durbmog(#29406)]

Peering off into the gloom, Durbmog barks, "Runners! Catch that orc!"

He gesticulates with his hammer towards the fleeing form of Rynn; several Morian scouts take off in hot pursuit.

[Z'macht(#27431)] "Well, good thing," slurs Z'macht, swaying. "Watch your tongue, Laerecht, and you'll go far." Blood trickles from the Underruler's mouth and he starts to stagger towards one of the wagons.

Nodding to himself, Laerecht returns the two hammers to his waist before striding once more back to the fallen Shukrak. Gathering up the dead creature's already buzzing head, the monstrous uruk strides back to the Morian camp, the dripping cranium held by it's hair in his hand jouncing slightly with each massive stride.

Chiayk turns and watches the battle lines collapse in as much as the Mordain are concerned. The She Hai turns and begins to make way back to the Morian encampment. Along the way she rises her mace in a threatening gesture to the retreating Mordain, but doesn't follow up the gesture with an attack. She smiles broadly as she moves. Yes she thinks, today has turned up to be very good indeed."

You are standing by the east bank of the Great River. Here the old road veers off eastwards into the emptiness of the Brownlands. Across the river further north, you can spy the Celebrant river, flowing from the west, meeting up with the Anduin. Just beyond that intersection is the forested Egladil of Lorien. Can the old legends be true? Do elves indeed dwell deep within the Golden Wood in a city of trees? Your curiosity almost overwhelms you. If only you had a boat...

Contents:

Scimitar

Grlybrla

Badog

Ak'lag

Globskai

N'kyata

Bow

Chiayk

Balrog

Lorthok

Dead_Ghashburzh

Dead_Gak

Uruk Camp

Durbmog

Z'macht

Morian Encampment

Obvious exits:

NorthEast leads to Edge of Forest, along Anduin.

East Road leads to North Edge of Brown Lands.

Into River leads to Anduin, South of Lorien.