Road to the Outpost: Morian Encampment 1-17-02

Morian Encampment

Gah! The stench alone could kill a flower sniffin' elf dead in his tracks. Oi! Urine and sweat proliferate in great quantities throughout this campsite, the results of so many unwashed orcish bodies contained upon a small patch of land tends to do that. Not even the tents of the few ranking orcs can shield the poor brutes within from the foul stench. Throw in a couple trolls that pop up occasionally, and you got yourself one stinkin' mass of ugliness!

Huzghash, eyes still showing his fatigue from the fighting, looks down upon the uruk who approaches him. Listening closely to the uruk Huzghash responds, saying, "No. I am fine. I wish to wear my armour as a reminder of the battle, but I shall wear it alone." The Guard runs his hand down the blood caked armour; flakes of blood falling and drifting in the small breeze that passes by.

Squatting slightly to test his legs a bit more, Huzghash reaches down and grabs the helm laying at his feet. Grabbing the helm by on the metal spikes, the guard smirks as he lifts it up to consider it in front of his eyes. Looking the helm over, it has taken on an eerie red quality as it is covered in dried and flaking blood.

Chukk is only armed with an old femur that he gnaws on ever now and then. "Dyo don need no help maybe? I kin help good. Don have much hurts. Elfs slash me back, but not too bad."

Huzghash smirks as he listens to the uruks words, "No. I am fine. The Flame has renewed my strenth with his healing and I can serve him in full again!" Banging the side of the helm with his right hand, Huzghash quickly brings the closed-visor helm up and over his head;hovering their only a moment before he bring it down onto his bald and sweaty head, slowly tugging it into place.

Chukk nods his head. "Is good then....good good good.."

Chukk walks around Huzghash. "How many elfs you kill? Many yes? Many for the Flame?"

Nodding his visored head, Huzghash's eyes burn with a sudden flame as he looks down upon the uruk. "Good. When I feel my spear tear elf-flesh again, and I gain my revenge for this cuts, " Huzghash says emphaticalyy, tracing the fresh scars on his body, "That will be very good. An elf-head I shall carry back to Moria atop my spear as a tribute to the FLAME." Huzghash stops glancing down to the floor one last time where his spear lay; coated in the blood of elves. "Yes, I shall feel elf-flesh bow before my spear." Bending down low, Huzghash lifts his spear from the ground and holds it tightly in his right hand. Slowly the guard bounces his weapon on the ground; shaking loose the fibers and flakes of dried blood that coat his weapon. Bringing the metal point near his face, Huzghash extends his crimson tounge and gingerly licks the dried elf-blood off. "Yes, elf-blood we shall drink again. For the Flame!"

Chukk lets out a raspy laugh that almost sound like someone trying to clear their throat. "Yes yes....drink their blood. Eat elf flesh too......many dead elfs to make the warriors of the Flame strong." He scurries around Huzghash, watching him closely. He grins and nods. "Strong warriors of the Flame, yes. Maaaany dead elfs....we take their woods from them....dumb tree dwellers. Cut them trees down....kill then all!"

C'zoth comes out of a tent briskly, and looks Chukk up and down. His eyes fall upon Huzghash, and he inclines his head. "Indeed, for the flame, my friend, for the flame. Remember my words before: If our warriors stay true to themselves, then we will conquer. You, for one, did, as did the rest of the horde. And Lo! We stand victorious!" A large grin slowly splits his ugly face as he watches Chukk scurry around Huzghash.

The Guard smirks as he finishes his grim cleaning of his spear. Huzghash slowly straps the spear to his back, making sure that it does not bounce around too much. Casting a quick glance to C'zoth, the guard nods quickly and then adds, speaking to both of them, "Indeed. For the Flame they shall all die, but not by 'cutting' down their trees. No! They shall be burnt to the ground! By flame, for the Flame!" Huzghash nods his head slightly, eyes burning brightly as he stares off into nothignness.

Chukk laughs again. "We build houses from their bones there be so many..."

C'zoth nods. "Indeed, our warriors will hack them, the beasts will feast upon them, and the flames will burn them! Many more will fall, and many slaves will be taken back to the deeps of Moria." He licks his hands with relish. "Ah yes, there trees will fall, their warriors will fall, and their vile sorceress will fall." He curses the elf-witch loudly and foully, and passes into an angry tirade against elves of all forms and sizes.

"Need a drink," says Burzdug as he struggles up to a sitting position. He has been largely asleep since staggering to the encampment, waking from time to time. His wounds, two arrows pincushioned into his left shoulder and several others tearing him open, have been only modestly tended. The guard licks his lips and leans back against stone. "What a fight."

Retuning from his empty stare, Huzghash smirks as he hears the words of the two uruk near him. Turning his head slightly, Huzghash looks upon C'zoth and says, "It will be a glorious day when the woods of the elf-witch burn brightly in sight of the Flame!." Turning around as Huzghash hears someone near him speak, the Guard sees Burzdug struggling to a sitting position. Looking him over quickly, Huzghash says, "It would be better for you to lay still, Guard. Rather than to tear your wounds more by moving."

Black blood has, in fact, welled up around the shoulder wounds Burzdug sports like badges of honor. He gingerly touches the swollen flesh and leans back a bit further against the stone, looking over at Huzghash. "Fresh blood keeps the wound clean, brother. Or so I've been told."

Chukk scrambles around, trying to find something to drink. He finds a bucket with some water in it and grabs it and walks it over toward the injured orc. "Here....ya want water? Got some here.."

"Aye, it was quite a fight, Burzdug. All of our ladz' fought bravely and hard, tothough the cowardly elven shafts took many of our ladz'." C'zoth says, gnashing his teeth. "It was a trial watching many of our brave boys fall to their arrows. But we won out in the end." His eyes drift back lazily as he recalls a pleasant memory of many light-skinned elves fall to the uruk's axes, spears, and maces.

A soft moan escapes the lips of the she hai Chuok. She mutters something unintelligible and stirs every so slightly. The fever broke and the wounds tended to at least initially have work to bring her from the very precipice of death. She slowly draws up her hand to he face and rubs her eyes tenderly. She licks her dry blood caked lips with a n equally dry tongue. The tingling of the break from deaths door fells almost like awaking from a dream. But soon the body sends it's messages of assaulted parts and she grimacesNo a dream does not hurt this badly. Drawing a slow deep breath she opens her eyes and looks about. She see orcs moving about so she knows she is not left on the battlefield. Slowly she lets the breath escape from clenched teeth and she tries to force the pain from her mind.

Huzghash listens as the guard speaks, and then watches intently as the uruk Chukk brings water forth for the injured Guard to drink. " Yes. Drink, Guard Burzdug. It will help cool the body." Huzghash says as he draws closer. Looking down on the uruk Chukk, the guard says, "Good. Give all the uruk here water who can drink it. " Pausing for a moment Huzghash glances off to the side, seeing the She-hai Chuok moving a bit. Looking back to Chukk, Huzghash leans closer and says quietly, "After you give water to Guard Burzdug. Give soem to the She-Hai." Huzghash finishes pointing towards Chuok, who lays on the ground moaning.

Horvak enters the Morian encampment.

The call of the waterbearer brings the attention of many of the wounded, some raising hands to catch Chukk's attention. Others throwing bits of rubble and dirt to get the waterbearer's attention. Burzdug opts for the former method, no interest in jarring his wounds by throwing a pig turd at Chukk. "Yes, here. Right here. Not too much now."

Horvak growls as he surveys the morian encampment. An encampment filled with wounded orcs. The warlord spits on the ground with disgust, his voice a small rockslide, "Off your lazy behinds. We are warriors. Any orc I see not on guard duty or practicing at arms will be deemed a burden. What orc ranks here? Report to me, now!

Chukk takes water to Burzdug, trying to be careful with hsi clumsy hands to get the wounded Uruk water to ease his thirst.

Chuok recoiling from the initial pain the threshold seems to settle and she feels as though she is getting a handle on it. Words tumble through her mind and sound as if they are a half league away. She murmurs and licks at her lips again. The dry parched lips crack as she moves her mouth and as if on a breeze her wanting of water is somehow being spoken. She listens to the words of her mind and the words her ears hear and for a bit it seems as if she is in her body and outside of it all at the same time. Then she realizes the other voice is a male and is calling out he has water. She draws her self up and scans for the voice. Weakly she calls out and motions with her hand for the uruk to come forward

C'zoth's eyes look with the closest orc approximation of pity at the wounded Chuok, and the many other frightfully wounded orcs that cover the camp. Many have fevers, and some have missing limbs. Some have missing heads-their comrades decided to put them out of their misery rather than let them suffer. The orc healers travel around, muttering blessing from the Flame and giving the patients rough orc medicine which would help subside the pain and injuring for a while. C'zoth watches Chukk give water to Burzdug, and then turning his attention to Chuok. The victory was theirs but came with a cost. Turning his eyes towards the sound at the entrance, his eyes open wide with fear at the coming of the angry Hill-troll.

Chukk looks up, starting suddenly when the troll yells, spilling some water.

Turning sharply at the entrance of the great troll, Huzghash hirriedly looks about the room for someone of more importance than himself. Seeing none standing, Huzghash walks switfly over to the Warlord Horvak and says, "Sir, I suppose I am the ranking orc present at the moment. The rest are injured or off somewhere else." Saluting the warlord as he finishes, Huzghash comes to stand a few paces away from the troll.

The water Chukk offers Burzdug runs as much down front of the guard's leather armor as it does in his mouth. The warlord's command forces him to break off the drink and he pushes Chukk aside, saying nothing. He looks at Huzghash as his guard brother speaks and then slowly pulls himself up to his feet, fresh blood weeping at his shoulder. "There are more who can guard the camp," says Burzdug as he grits his teeth and takes a couple slow steps toward the warlord.

Horvak eyes bulge as no orc answers him. The huge stone creature reaches out and grabs a large tent pole. *RIIIPPP* With his mighty strength he slams the tent pole into a wood pile, knoching the pile over. Horvak roars, "Who is in charge here?" Eyes crimson and face reddened by anger the troll looks about and spies an orc barely clinging to life. The warlord proceeds to beat the sorely wounded orc into a bloody pulp with the tent pole. "Answer me!!" Alas, the poor orc cannot answer as it loses its mortal coil.

With a start the troll, the words of Huzgash finally sinks into his ears. He stops slamming the tent pole into the corpse of the orc and turns to face the guard. "You. You." The troll does not seem capable of full sentences as he take one step toward the guard, his hand reaching for the axe at his belt.

Chuok reaches weakly for the water as the uruk brings it and she drinks long though slowly. Then pulling the container from her lips she lets the water cascade over her mouth and face. As if washing away the very cause of her pain itself the she feels a bit more refreshed. She hands back the container and remains propped up on one elbow surveying the activities around her.

Chukk makes hie way warily over to Chuok, though he pays close attention to the location of the troll in case he should have to flee it's wrath.

Huzghash watches with fear-filled eyes as Horvak kills an orc with a tent pole. Looking up, Huzghash watches intently as Horvak lets his hand slip down towards the axe hanging at his side. "Uh...No, sir. You are in charge here, sir. You being the Warlord, sir." Huzghash does not move from his position, frozen with fear. Keeping his gaze locked onto that of the troll, Huzghash waits for the response from the Warlord.

Horvak growls ominously as a single step brings him scant inches from the orc. "There are orcs...here....they are useless to battle...a burden to this camp. You and your troops will go through this camp and slay any orc that cannot stand and hold a weapon. You will obey this order as if it came from the King himself. You do not. You answer to me." The troll takes hold of his stone axe and raises it high in the air, as if prepared to send it crashing down upon the poor orc. "NOW GO AND SLAY ANY WHO CAN NOT FIGHT!" the warlord roars.

C'zoth 's eyes bulge as he witnesses the confrontation. Unable to control himself he bursts out angrily, "See here now! Whose side are we on? Does the will of the flame govern us or the guises of the elf-witch? If we fight amongst ourselves, the laughter of Lorien will be our reward!" Clamping a hand over his mouth, he slowly slinks out of sight behind a large canvas tent.

The Warlord's words strike Burzdug square in the chest, and he takes a stagger back at its severity. The guard's eyes narrow, his mouth tightens as does his hand on the hilt of his scimitar, a weapon that does not get far from his side these days, even wounded. C'zoth's words bring his attention staggering around, his eyes now widening in disbelief. Are there uruk who do not know what the warlord will do?

Chukk sets down his bucket and immediately offers to help Chuok to her feet, since he's standing there. "Come...stand and be spared."

C'zoth is now pounding himself with fury. How could he be so stupid. This being was roughly 11 feet taller than he and many more times stronger. He crouches fearfully behind a tent, waiting for an axe blow to the head any moment.

Chukk scurries back over to the other orc he's given water to...Burzdug and offers to help him stand to be saved, too.

Huzghash salutes quickly, and wheels on his feet turning to face Burzdug. Moving quickly away from the troll, Huzghash says to Burzdug and the other guards and uruks present, "You have heard the command of the Warlord Horvak! To disobey is to defy the King! Now! Those who can stand and fight do so, unless you wish to die a snaga's death!" Huzghash looks hard over uruks present, watching as a great many of them stand up and turn to face the Warlord.

Quickly, Huzghash moves across the camp of wounded uruk to a form that lays, writhing upon the ground. Calling out softly, Huzghash manages to rouse the Master Guard Irt and help him slowly to his feet. Standing near to support the Master Guard, huzghash looks again over the crowd, noting that many of the orcs are now standing, though not solidly, "Finish the order now! If an uruk is still unable to help himself and get up, kill him! They will only bog us down in bringing glory to the Flame! Finish the Warlord's order now!"

Screams penetrate the air as uruk upon uruk is slain as they lay, coming to their senses only as they are struck down by the orcs around them. TWUMP! CRACK! SNAP! Necks and bones break as the orcs go about their grisly task of 'cleansing' the war party. Soon, the commotion stops. Many an uruk now lays firmly dead on the floor at the feet of the other orcs. The Majority of the war party from Moria still stands, but those too weak are now cleansed from the horde. They lie motionless on the ground.

Horvak smiles, "Good...do your duty. Continue with your duty. Any who are to weak to fight will die. I expect to hear the sounds of orcs singing a battle song not the sounds of wounded, dying orcs pleading for water and assistance." The troll nods in satisfaction and turns awat returning to his troll hole.

C'zoth helps the with the cleansing, along with the rest of the guard. He hopes this will make up for his rash words, he thinks, sinking his jagged knife into the throat of a dying orc. Then again maybe not. If the Horvak were to kill him, it would simply be his own stupidity that had slain him. He releases his breath in a long loud sigh as he watches Horvak head to his hole, not realizing until then that he had been holding it. He helps finish off the last of the wounded orcs and stands near to the group of guards, head bowed in shame.

Megiddo continies to lie on his belly, healing. He watches the rest of the camp with beady eyes, but is silent.

Burzdug has joined in with the other Guards during the culling, moving slowly and only in a defined circle near where he was recuperating. When the duty is done, he rejoins Huzghash and watches the troll move off toward his hole. "He is a strong warlord, that one." His voice is hushed, carrying just far enough for his guard brother and a few others to hear.

Huzghash looks intently upon the troll as he speaks again, sending a deep salute as the troll finishes. Turning back as the troll goes back to his hole, huzghash says to the standing orcs, "Do as ordered by the Warlord! Sing! We are at war for the flame! Sing, for we go to rid these accursed woods of the elf-witch and all her kind!" Huzghash pumps his fist in the air as he finishes he latest call. A general cheer goes up amongst most the orcs of "FOR THE FLAME!" as many of the orcs seem slightly rejuvenated by the action of Horvak the Warlord of Moria

Facing Irt now, Huzghash gently sits the Master Guard down, leaning him against a rock, hidden from the Troll's hole a bit. Straightening once again Huzghash looks out proudly on the assembled orcs. Even in their wounded state Huzghash's eyes give away his feeling of confidence and surity.

As Burzdug approaches Huzghash greets him with a nod, and yet another one as he finishes his sentence.

C'zoth nods slowly, head still bowed with shame, "Yes, he is a very strong warlord," he says quietly,"I pity those who are too fool to see it." His head bows even lower. It raises with a jerk as a cheer goes through the crowd. "FOR THE FLAME!" he roars with as much enthusiasm as any. He feels better now, but a shame still burns in his mind for his defiant words against Horvak, warlord, servant of the flame.

Before the troll turns away, he notices several orcs who have not risen to prove that they can fight. "You!" The Warlord points his axe at Huzghash, "I ordered you to check on all orcs." His axe sweeps wide about the camp gesticulating at several orcs including the forms of Chuok and Meggido. "You did not check them. Obey me. Obey your war leader for the grace of the King and the mighty Balrog." As if in emphasis, the troll throws his axe across the camp. The axe embeds itself deep into the back of an orc struggling to rise. An orc that holds his guts in his belly in one hand, while clutching his spear in other, using the spear to pull himself to his feet. As the orc is thrown forward and cries pitifully once as it dies, The troll steps forward to recover his axe.

"Quiet down you elf maidens!" screams an orc beside the large camp fire. "you annoy me. Yelling for the flame and whatnot. You cowards just ran away from the elves or got beaten up by them. You are lucky I was there to drag your carcases out. Now shut up, my head hurts." Mugruk the hunter stops his rant and goes back to cleaning and oiling his war hammer beside the fire.

Chukk decides that the words of the troll have much more weight. ALOT more weight. He lifts his voice in a song of praise for the flame.

Huzghash turns quickly, sweat running down his neck and a drop of blooding running down his arm. Seeing the axe flying across the room, Huzghash is in awe of its accuracy as it lands hard into the back of an orc. Turning his gaze back he sees the gesturing of the Troll to the forms of Megiddo and Chuok.

Quickly, Huzghash strides over to the form of Chuok and bends low, saying, "Wake! Rise! The Flame calls, She-hai!" Grabbing the arm of the Uruk-Hai, Huzghash helps her to her feet.

Turning away from the slightly wobbly form of Chuok, HUzghash moves near Megiddo, Latadurub. Calling out to the uruk, Huzghash says, "Hear the call of your Warlord! Stand! Rise for the Flame!" Huzghash bends low, offering a helping hand out to Megiddo, the droplet of blood finishing its course down the same arm; crackling and solidifying on his wrist.

In several strides, the troll crosses the camp to the twitching corpse of the orc. He bends down and yanks his huge stone axe from the orc's back. Yet...yet, the troll body stiffens. His face contorts with rage. Carefully, placing the axe back on his belt, the troll picks up the bloody body of the orc and tosses it mightily at the orc (Mugruk) who dares to yell at him. Not even bothering to see if the body connects with the offending orc, Hovak turns away stepping purposefully toward his hole.

Burzdug remains standing near the weakened Master Guard, watching Huzghash move off to deal with the Warlord's command. The injured guard's wounds continue to weep black and glistening down his chest, but he stands resolute regardless of his injury. Duty calls. Or death. The choice is easy enough as long as he can remain standing.

Mugruk lovingly rubs the oil into the head of his war hammer. A veritable explosion in the fire infront of him cause him to pause. A dead uruk lies in the wrecked fire. The hunter casually glances back at the great troll. Such a bad shot, perhapse he shall teach the troll how to throw accurately someday.

C'zoth stands motionless, along with most of the other onlooking uruks. As a whole the company is awe-struck by Horvak's display of power, save perhaps Mugruk the Hunter. First the thrown axe in the back, then the body cast at mugruk. C'zoth will probably think next time before speaking rash words to the warlord of Moria. Mugruk's insolence was surprising, unfitting and rash for a servant of the flame.

Chukk is sure to get out of the way of the commotion and make sure folks know he's alive and as well as can be. He picks up the bucket and takes water around to the injured orcs that are still alive to drink it. He can't help but keep looking over his shoulder to make sure the troll isn't too near by.

Seeing no movement forthcoming from the uruk Megiddo, Huzghash moves around to orcs nearby who still have not risen. Calling out to each in turn he pulls about seven more uruks to their feet. Seven of ten.

Grabbing the spear quickly off his back Huzghash hovers over one of the uruks still lieing on the ground. SCHINK! The spear shoots down entering into the blackened heart of the first uruks. Blood pours forth from the wound as Huzghash recalls his spear; tip coated in the black blood of an uruk. The blood still dripping from the tip of his spear, Huzghash moves resolutely over to the second uruk. The guard drips the black blood of the former uruk, who now gurgles; blood filling his lungs, onto the second uruk. Splish! The droplet hits quietly. SCHUNK! The spear of Huzghash passes through the throat of the second uruk only a second later, a spray of black blood coating Huzghash metal helm. Gurgling and grasping at his throat the uruk draws his final breaths and goes silent while Huzghash still hovers over him; black death dripping with the blood of the dead.

Moving to the final uruk, Huzghash again draws his spear over the helpless form. Pressing down slightly as the spear reaches the face of the uruk, Huzghash draws the sharp tip across, cutting a line down the orcs cheek; black blood flowing freely. Suddenly, the spear is drawn back and up, high above the head of Huzghash. "FOR THE FLAME!" Huzghash yells as he grips his spear with two hands, driving it down and through the chest of the helpless orcs. Blood. Black, deadly blood. The blood sprays out from the wound in all directions; not a part of Huzghash's body is spared from the wet, stinking blood of the uruk. SWFLNNK! The blood courses and beats the ground as it lands around Huzghash, on dirt and uruk alike.

Breathing heavily, Huzghash stands and pulls his spear from the dead uruk. Eyes aflame, Huzghash stares down at the useless form.

Burzdug licks his lips again, pulling his scimitar from the ragged, loose leather wrap that he keeps it in. He looks down to where the Master Guard is resting before looking back across the encampment. He slowly begins to run a coal black piece of hide across his blade as he takes up Huzghash's post standing guard over the Master.

Horvak enters his hole with nary a word but one, "Sing!! Sing!!" and then the troll is gone from sight.