Gulzurkum: The Return of Grishnakh
Temple of Darkness
A grand cavern upheld by massive hexagonal basalt columns. Hundreds of heavy stone pews march away to the northeast to a great altar, a slab of black glass marked with the stains of sacrifice--iron chains and manacles dangle to either side. Sitting atop an upraised dias with curving stairs leading up to it from either side. In shadowy alcoves beyond the columns are basins of dark Unholy water, with stands upon which flicker tiny candle flames in red glass holders. The high valuted ceiling of the Temple, grimy with soot, has been rigged with a network of copper wires, connected to rods on the surface of Amon Lanc. Lightning striking the rods is carried to the Temple and leaps between gaps in the wires in an awe-inspiring display. Together with the flames, beating of manskin drums, winding of trumpets, and screams of the sacrifical victims, the ritual of Darkness is enough to have the humans and Orcs' hair standing on end and almost any outsider quaking in terror.
A long, dark corridor opens on the far end of the temple, dimly lit by bluish globes of light inset into the walls, while to the northeast behind the altar is a strange doorway--a giant stone eye with a hollowed out pupil revealing a dark corridor stretching a short ways back into pitch blackness.
Contents:
Golg
DuRoch
Ailog
Fauthmat
Karja
Grinkar
Gurzak
Burgluk
Bloody Gong
Obvious exits:
DuRoch bows his head, not wishing to make eye contact with the Vorgaz. A sweat breaks out upon his brow.
Fauthmat looks about uneasily at his surroundings, however he moves with sure steps near the front of the milling mass of gathered Orcs. Upon taking his place he bows his head to the glaring gaze of the opressive stone eye.
Karja leans over to whisper to Burgluk, who sits next to him near the front of the room, "... I ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... a ..."
Grinkar hobbles deeper into the group of snaga and uruks, shoving those littler than himself and yielding to the larger orcs as he makes his way to the near back of ther temple...
Burgluk nods slightly to Karja, and leans back over to him. " ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Vorazg ... talkin' ..." Burgluk glances around the room, to a small group of Uruks, he nod to him. Burgluk grins, and leans back to Karja. " ... ... ... here ... ... said ... be servants."
Grishnakh enters the black Temple slowly, appearing from the shadows, noticed first only by one or two. Muttered talk grows quiet as he walks before the great altar, casting gleaming pale eyes out over the audience. His gaze is enigmatic, with traces of contempt and watchful wariness.
Karja notices Grishnakh walk by his seat, silenceing his whispering chat with Burgluk. He bows his head to look at his lap, listening for the opening words.
Gurzak stands in the room stoically watching the Uruks around him move and turns to watch as the vorzg enters the room....
Fauthmat remains still, unmoving and quiet, as before.
Burgluk stops a whisper mid-word as the Vorazg comes in, and also bows his head, although he razes it slightly to see the Uruk, curious of the meeting.
Ailog, previously listening in on the conversation not meant for him, turns to the Vorazg, and bows humbly.
Grishnakh stands before the altar and faces the assembly. Most he sees are high-ranking officers, called personally to this gathering. The rest are servants, lower orcs attending the officers.
Grishnakh speaks, after this pause, and his voice is soft and evil, nearly a purr of wickedness. "Gulzurkum is convened. The Wisdom of Blood. For blood has been shed, to bring your wisdom to me."
Fauthmat's horned helm rises as he looks plainly at the Vorazg, the glittering chips of blackness that are his eyes smoulder, but silence hangs about the Orc like a tangible thing.
Grishnakh casts his enigmatic gaze across the audience again, as the ruddy light of dim candles plays in his pale narrow eyes.
Karja glances up from his bowed head to watch Grishnakh as he speaks his words, words of wisdom? He sighs nervoously, twitching his sweaty toes together and clamping his hands close.
Grishnakh speaks again, his voice remaining soft, even, forcing the orcs to be silent to hear his words.
Grinkar sidesteps from behind the much taller uruks to better his view of the Vorazg, though his movements are furtive and silent.
Burgluk fiddles with his skullcap within his robe, watching the Vorazg speak.
DuRoch shuts his eyes as the sweat on his brow is more evident. He winces once again.
Orgo marches in, following quietly after Grishnakh. His one good eye is narrowed, watchful, surveying each and every one of the orcs gathered about the room. The butt of the spear he holds, from which hangs a banner, that of Mordor and of the Vorazg, a red Eye upon a black field, hits the ground with a scraping sound as he leans upon it to move.
Fauthmat's black nostrills flare as he takes in and releases a deep breath.
Grishnakh says, "Not long ago, you were sent north, on a mission to force tribute and capitulation from the Men of the Long Lake. And yet you return to Pulgorburzob with no tribute, with no slaves, with no tokens of surrender or fealty." His voice grows more cruel now, biting in its contempt for all its softness. "You bear only scars, and the shamed look of beaten dogs."
Karja shakes his head and looks back down to his lap as Grishnakh critisizes the body of uruks, as quoted, shamefully swallowing the loss of pride from the retreat of battle.
Burgluk hangs his head slightly, closing his eyes as the wrath of the Vorazg starts to wash over him with his words.
Karja, however, bears not one recent scar... not one that was not there before he left to battle.
Grinkar lowers his head, cowardly as the uruk's words echo through the temple...
Grishnakh pauses a moment, allowing this brief tongue-lashing to sink in, clearly feeling no need to add any greater emphasis to his accusations of failure.
Fauthmat's lips pull away from his sharp fangs for a moment, but just as quickly they fall back down.
DuRoch looks at his blood stained robes.
Gurzak hearing the vorazg's words expression hidden behind the helmet turns his head and watches the other leaders....
Grishnakh says, "I seek an explanation for your failure to adhere to the will of the Dark Lord. This explanation I will bear with me to Dushgoi, and perhaps to Lurburz. If your explanation quite displeases me, I may take some of you with me, to bring your story before the Throne itself."
Grishnakh pauses again, to allow the orcs to consider his words.
Fauthmat's slitted eyelids drop over his smouldering eyes and he bows his head.
Grinkar looks from uruk to uruk, as if for help.... looking for the one brave enough to share the story or tell a lie, but he himself remains quiet to the Vorazg's question...
At the mention of the Throne Gurzak Whips his head about and begins to listen intently...
Burgluk imitates most of the Uruks in the room, hanging his head and squeezing his lips shut, hoping for one brave Uruk.
Grishnakh looks across the gathering again, his gaze drilling heartlessly into one orc after another. Then it lands on Burgluk, and holds upon him.
Karja continues to stare at the ground, twiddleing his toes as he senses the glance of the Vorazg near.
Ailog step forward, rather foolishly. "I'm not officer, but I was there. I'm a snuffler."
Grishnakh smiles, a cruel thing twisting his scarred lips. Then he looks at the speaking uruk with narrowed, angry eyes. "Snaga," he whispers, "You were not addressed."
Burgluk does not notice the Gaze of the Uruk, only hopes that the Vorazg will take his wratch out on the Snaga who spoke.
Ailog gulps rather feverishly. "You ask what happens. Everyone else afraid to answer. I not know everything, but I know what I see."
Orgo steps forward from his place behind Grishnakh, spear held forth before him, the gleaming back point aiming a few inches above Ailog's head. He turns a questioning eye to Grishnakh and waits silently.
Grishnakh smiles again, and his voice drifts toward Orgo, nearby. "Gorug, this scout has guts. I want a sampling of them. Take him to the antechamber and see to it. But let him rejoin his troops afterward."
Karja looks up from his feet, dareingly towards the one that stepped forward to speak so 'bravely' towards the Vorazg of Mordor. Or was it foolishly? Karja seems to be decideing which.
Grishnakh's gaze leaves Ailog, now, and returns to Burgluk, resting on the shaman of Barad-dur for a long moment.
Burgluk watches the Snaga, then bows his head again, waiting for the Vorazg to address an Uruk.
Grinkar sidesteps back behins the taller uruks, so to avoid any eye contact, or them picking him from the crowd at that. . .
Gurzak turns to watch his scout as the vorazg speaks of him, His eyes bore into the scout watching for it's reaction.....
Orgo , after an eyebrow raised at Grishnakh, nods and withdraws the spear from its dangerous proximity of Ailog's head, reaching forward with one black hand to rest upon the orc's shoulder, "You...come."
Ailog sniffs the air, and wimpers quietly. Backing up a step, and bowing his head to the Vorazg, he then glances at Gurzak.
Burgluk waits for the Vorazg to speak, and as he doesn't, glances up at him. His mouth let's out a tight frown as he sees the Vorazg looking at him, but it is quickly wiped away as he stares back down at the ground.
Grishnakh remains silent, staring at Burgluk with a slight sneer, as Orgo deals with Ailog.
Grinkar notes the Vorazg's stare on Burgluk and swallows hard. He looks to the other orcs, who intently watch from where they stand.
Ailog stands up, nearly without stooping. He steps back towards Orgo, but not before bowing before the Vorazg, and quietly whispering, "Yes, master. But I tell you about battle if not one else does?"
Grishnakh's gaze drifts again from Burgluk, this time toward Orgo. "Gorug," he whispers, "I issued a command, did I not?"
Ailog rises and stands behind the gorug.
Orgo leans the spear back on his shoulder, the line traced from the butt to the tip along the shaft directing Ailog to the back of the room, a cold red glare following the orc, trying to determine wether it understands and is capable of moving himself or if he needs to move himself. To Grishnak he nods, "Yes, Vorazg."
Ailog nods, and executes his orders, moving to the back of the room.
Grishnakh's gaze moves back to Burgluk again. "Sergeant Burgluk, Shaman of Barad-dur," he says, his voice rising so that it is slightly more clear to all. "I desire your report of the campaign against Laketown. Speak quickly."
Karja turns his head to Burgluk, sitting to the right of the shaman. His eyes widen as he realizes he may very well be next, and if he isn't, he most likely has lost an ally. He frowns, letting his larger than normal bottom lip hang out n despair as his head droops back down to look at his lap.
Ailog, trained to use his sense of smell, sniffs the air. Among other things, he detects the smell of blood, sweat and fear.
Orgo 's gaze sets on Grishnakh's back for a moment, then shifts to Ailog, to whom he raises a hand, motioning him to wait where he is, the narrowing of his good eye a threat, backed by spear he tightens his grip about.
Grishnakh watches Burgluk carefully, silently, his pale gaze drilling into the shaman as if oblivious to the rest of the gathered officers and servants. One enormous clawed hand rests at his belt, clutching the hilt of a scimitar. The other rests atop a heavy shield which stands on the ground at his feet.
DuRoch phases in and out of conciousness
Burgluk let's out a small grunt, looking at Karja before he rises to his feet. His gaze then turns to Grishnakh, and he tries to stand as straight as possible. " Well, Master, We.. Uhh.. We be losing da battle, as you know. We be driving dem back for a while, back into dare filthy villiage.. we had dem beat, until some of da STINKIN' ALBAI" Burgluk let's out a large grunt of furry as he remembers the events..." Until day and some Stump-legs comed up... Da drove us back, but we did not lose da battle... We killed many of dem, and day will steap lightly anywhere near Mirkwood for a good long while, i suspect." WIth a quick glance over at Karja, Burgluk adds, " And da Shamans be healing quite a bit... SDa wounded were many, but we be bringin' da Armies of day eye back to life..." Burgluk let's out an enormouse breath, watching the Vorazg intently.
Grishnakh listens to Burgluk, allowing the orc to drift into silence, his gaze unchanging.
Ailog hisses softly, and sheathes his scimitar, which he had been using to aid his movements.
Karja looks up after Burgluk has finished his speach, then cocking his head to look up at Burgluk. He sighs, shakes his head, and droops again back down to his lap.
Ailog slides Burzghaash back into its sheath quieting the twinkling of its dark inner fire.
Burgluk bites his lower lips, starringg into Grishnakhs eyes.
Grishnakh says, "So. You laid siege before a town with known allies, elves and dwarves, nearby. And yet you seem surprised and alarmed that those elves and dwarves took part in the battle." His mouth twists into a slight snarl, but his voice only grows softer. "Why is that, Lieutenant Burgluk? Whose FAULT is that, Lieutenant?"
Karja drifts his eyes upwards, begining to sweat more than normally before. His overall facial glance stays pivoted downwards, and his toes begin to swing back and forth as he exerts his nervous energy.
Orgo 's gaze roams about the room, lingering upon those orcs better armed, or those who seem to be more nervous, though nearly all are. Am amused smile plays on his crooked lips as he watches the humiliation of Burgluk.
Grishnakh stares hard at Burgluk, waiting for his reply in the near-silence of the cavern.
Burgluk winces, his finger itching to point to one of the nearby officers. He bites his lip again, then says, " Well... I suppose dat would be da fault of da person who was da highest ranking, no? Because.. Ahh.. Because da be ordering da attack, right?" Burgluk thinks for a moment, adding a quiet, " Master."
Grishnakh sneers, "Oho, you think so? Very well." His gaze moves from Burgluk at last, drifting across the crowd until it lingers on Gurzak.
Burgluk let's out a long sigh, and drops back down next to Karja, looking over at him with WIDE eyes.
Orgo steps back, nodding at Grishnakh, and turns to Ailog, stepping up to him. Rough is his voice and his grasp as he reaches for the smaller orc's arm and points him outside, "Move."
Grishnakh watches Gurzak for a moment, his face still twisted into a sneer.
Karja raises his head to glance straight ahead of him as he hears Burgluk's words. His breathing becomes continually more reptetive, and his eyes soon glare instead of widen in fear and awe. He shakes his head again, looking back down to his toes and listening to Gurzak's excuse.
Ailog nods solemnly and prepares to xit. He glances upon the crowded room, contemplates Burgluk's last statement. If true, he might just survive.
Ailog pushes lightly against one of the massive golden and it swings wide. It swings quietly shut after he enters.
Ailog has left.
Orgo pushes lightly against one of the massive golden and it swings wide. It swings quietly shut after he enters.
Orgo has left.
Grishnakh says, "Well. Lieutenant Gurzak of Minas Morgul. You have a command in the heart of the City of the Nazgul. Perhaps you have some wisdom to offer, some explanation. For, as Lieutenant Burgluk said, I should look to the leaders. Speak."
Gurzak looks at Burgluk for a second then seeing the Vorazg's gaze on him with barely a seconds pause says "I have been commanded by the Quartermaster of Barad Dur to travel far at much danger to my powerbase....I have merely used my Dogs as a tool to work the Eye's purposes, which I trusted the one known as Ver-beeg to have first in his thoughts....
Grishnakh scowls at Gurzak, with a look of distaste. "Ver-beeg, you say? Ver-beeg, of Barad-dur? DRATUL Ver-beeg?"
Gurzak nods slowly "yes The Dratul....He proclaimed I was required to come by the dark tower, and The wait would have had me arrive too late to be of any aid to the said plan if I would have sent messengers for confirmation....
Grishnakh says, "Of course. So you followed the orders of an orc of lower rank, committed your orcs to his authority? Perhaps the shaman, Burgluk, was wrong to suggest that I look higher in the ranks. Perhaps I should look lower again. My commanders seem eager to relinquish their command."
Burgluk shakes his head to himself, raking his brain for another excuse.
Grishnakh's voice grows a trifle hard, his eyes narrowing as they glare at Gurzak.
Gurzak looks at the Vorazg's chest while speaking "THe only order of his I followed was that It was required of me to bring dogs to war.....Everything else MY tribemembers did was only commanded by me......
Karja sighs to himself, somewhat relaxing his stance. He rests his palms on his round stomach, which is covered by red scale, and crosses his feet. He shakes his head as he listens to the many witty words of the Orcish commanders.
Grishnakh's voice softens with utter contempt. "Of course. I expect they fought proudly, knowing the mighty Gurzak was commanding their fates."
Gurzak says, "They held the beach against the Tarks and their dwarven allies until well after the Morian scum had turned tail to the battle and fled to safety....we only retreated when we saw it would not serve the Eye to have them surrounded and cut down..."
Grishnakh spares another moment to await Gurzak's reply. His gaze, bearing nothing but unconcealed contempt, lingers on the orc. "Of course you did. Now tell me this, if you can do it without wetting yourself in further fear: who gave the order to retreat?"
Gurzak says, "I pulled back to the lines of the other tribes of my own accord but The Durub-tala of the Ashjacki gave the command to retreat......"
Grishnakh smiles again, a chilling sight. "I see. So you pulled away from the press of battle BEFORE the order to retreat was given?"
Grishnakh breathes slowly as he listens to Gurzak. His patience seems to be reaching its end.
Gurzak gazes up to the vorazg's eyes......I backed away from the beach to prevent the Tarks from surrounding my soldiers as I have already said.....and as an officer of equal rank to The durub-tala of the ashjacki My command seems no more in error than any he made....
Orgo steps out of a quitely opened massive gold door. Upon entering the door swings shut behind his.
Orgo has arrived.
Grishnakh says, "I see. And yet you followed his command, when it was to retreat. You may be silent now, Gurzak." His gaze drifts finally, moving to Fauthmat next. "Well. Lieutenant Fauthmat, of Dol Guldur and the Ashjaki. What say you to this news?"
"Vorazg," a rough hissing voice snakes out, quavering at first, but growing louder, and steadier as it continues. "Fauthmat, Rakarg of Pulgorburzob, Lata-durb of the Ashjaki," a heavily mailed Orc says as it takes a step forward from the assembled Orcs, into the no man's land between them and the diasis. The broad shouldered Orc crumbles, falling to his black furred knees with a dull thud upon the stone floor, which he almost touches with his bowed head. "If I could offer my explaination," he says quietly as he rises up onto his haunches, while still kneeling. The Orc's glittering black eyes are locked upon Grishnakh.
Grishnakh smiles as his pale, cruel eyes regard the smaller orc before him. "Speak, Rakarg. I await your wisdom."
"Our defeat," Fauthmat says after some hesitation, while straightening, "resulted from the allies of the humans. Had it only been the filthy humans, or the cursed albai we could have burnt their village down to water level. But the gazat appeared as we were closing in on the village. I told my superiors we cant drop all of the army out on the lake with rafts, we'd be too vulnerable if we did. They didnt listen and went ahead with the plan, they did. And what happened, I ask? We were driven back to Dol Guldur in shame."
Karja glances up from stareing ahead of him, turning to peer over towards Fauthmat. His eyes appear intrested, yet unnerved.
Orgo walks back in slowly, spear held up next to him as he marches, butt gently touching the ground with each step he takes. The tip, of cold black steel, has a strange look to it, like something wet, but if so, as black as the metal it is upon.
Grishnakh listens to Fauthmat carefully, his full attention seeming devoted to the squat black orc in his gaze. "I see," he purrs. "But one question I asked before, and it has yet to be answered. We know the dwarves and the elves live close to their friends, the stinking humans. We know that they come to aid when the humans call. And yet it sounds as though they took you by surprise. Why?"
Fauthmat hisses, "If it sounds that way then you have been given false information. I was not surprised. In fact many times did I warn my superiours of the possibility that the human's allies could appear, as they did, at the worst possible time."
Grishnakh says, "Ah. Whom did you warn of this? Whom of your superiors ignored this, your assessment of their strategy?"
Fauthmat speaks plainly and quietly, "The Tek'Rak Karja I did tell, and many others as well. It is obvious I did not approve, and that was why I was stationed upon the shore. And it was most likely that post that kept our army from being completely wiped out."
Grishnakh smiles broadly now, so that his gaze would seem almost to bear warmth if not for his pale, hard eyes.
Grishnakh says, "Indeed. Remain where you are, Rakarg Fauthmat."
Fauthmat's head lowers, and he remains, still as a stone.
Grishnakh lifts his gaze until he finds Karja, and fixes him with his still-smiling glare.
Karja tightens his lips as he hears his name repeated into the air, and his eyes glare once more. He stiffens, slowly etching up in his seat. His shoulders are pressed back as he meets Grishnakh's gaze with that of a professional, as far as old time uruks of Mirkwood go, look of quality.
Grishnakh says, "Now I think we approach the heart of the matter. Captain Karja, of Dol Guldur and Mirkwood, shaman to the Ujakalsaki tribe." His smile hardens, but his voice grows softer again, and sarcastic. His stare gives the lie to Karja's confident gaze, for Grishnakh's holds only his utter, fundamental sense of superiority over the shaman and captain. "Step forward, Captain Karja, and offer your oft-respected wisdom."
Karja stands, slowly, as he must use some form of effort to do so as compared to the other young uruks. He laps his oversized bottom lip over his upper lip, prepareing to speak as saliva now coats his lips. He clears his throat, and scoots ahead of Burgluk, so that he may address the Vorazg in front of the entire temple. His throat again attempts to be cleared, a loud 'EhhrMM!', emitting from his closed mouth. He looks up, as confidentally as before, if not a bit stage frightened, he first lets off a nervous smile, a nervous smile which stays for not a second on his face. "Yes, yes, Vorazg. I am Karja, Tek'rak of North Pulgorburz. Dat I been for years." He looks down to the ground, contemplating his speach for no more than another two seconds, and looks back up to speak Grishnakh in the eyes. "I seen not much catastrophe as I did at dat Lake Town. I myself was not in charge of most of da troop... I was only in control of my four hundred. The majority of the army came from South Pulgorburz and Dushgob, master. My army was there for the direction of de Morians." He pauses again, but again, not for more than two seconds. "You see, de hole dwellers fight like pushdog buubs, and they needed dat guidance. They don't got the training we servants of de Eye get. Not at all, master." Under his breath, he mumbles, "Not finished yet.", then gulps another to continue his ... story. "De one thing standable about the Morian force was dey could stand de cold. We seen cold before, specially up here in de forest. I think the big problem was from Dushgob. THose guys, they don't know nothin bout cold. How they supposed to fight right? Sure they seen snow down at dat fortress in the south, and in da ruins, but they ain't never seen the cold we have here up north. They hadda been wiped out lots quiicker... and dat where most of our army came. Gar.", he shakes his head, but still, continues. "So, to answer your immiediate question master Vorazg, we were not surprised. And de Rakarg Fauthmat did not tell me of the on comeing ghazat and albai. I knew bout those. I fight albai every day. Almost everyday.", he mumbles. "Well, what he told me was it would be unwise to sail us across row boats. Dat I agreed with, but there be nothin I could do bout it. I only control four hundred dogs, and those certainly couldn't fight off de reinforcements. De Teguk I say was responsible for dis... catastrophe." He half smiles, bringing his large lips back, then looks to the ground in humbleness. His long arms let his large hands rest on the ground.
Grishnakh allows Karja to ramble on, smiling as he nods occasionally, as if offering unspoken friendly encouragement.
Grishnakh speaks finally as if in surprise. "Is that all? It is Lugoth's fault? That is all you have to offer?"
Karja looks back up from his feet towards Grishnakh, nodding slightly. "Ehm, yes master Vorazg, I think. The fault of de poor coordination of de Teguk and the bad preperation of de southern armies." He nods to himself, building his own confidence.
Burgluk smiles slightly as Karja's barage of escuses seems to have a small efect.
Grishnakh says, "I see. So. Fauthmat lied when he said that he warned you of the dwarves and elves. That is regrettable."
Grishnakh glances at Fauthmat with a look of mock-regret before he continues...
Karja nods, but as he was not asked to speak, does not, and looks back to his feet.
Fauthmat's voice hisses, "I never said I warned him about the dwarves. I only warned him about allies." The Orc does not look up, or make any other motion other than his large jaws opening and closing.
Grishnakh continues to address Karja, his voice a steady cruel purr. "But you knew of the dwarves and elves anyway. And apparently, you warned Lugoth, but he refused to allow you to post adequate defenses against them. Is this what you are saying?"
Karja blinks, looking back up to Grishnakh and shakeing his head. "No, master. I did not warn de Teguk. For it was of my opinion, to be a Teguk, especally a Teguk of Pulgorburz, he would be a crafty warrior and good commander in battle. De Teguk never spoke to us Tek'raks, not once. No plan of attack was made but to try and cross de lake with boats."
Grishnakh says, "Oh, I see," his voice dripping with condescension. "Thank you for clarifying that. You did not warn the Teguk. He failed to account for the elves and dwarves, and so you did not warn him. Did you think the orcs could overcome them by sheer terror and force, perhaps? Perhaps no planning was necessary?"
Karja drops his confident facial expressions, but does not resort to nervous or enraged ones either. "Uhm, but Vorazg, it is also of my opinion if he wasa Teguk dat he would know dat Albai and Ghazat be comeing. Especially if he born in Pulgorburz, master. De planning is supposed to be represented by de leaders. And if we lower leaders don't have anythin to build off of, what we to do? Was I to personally warn de Teguk of South Pulgorburz, when his own Lata-Durb could have? And he just said he did..." He grunts uncomfortablly, adding, "Master Vorazg."
Burgluk remains in his crouched position, his muscles starting to slowy cramp up. Remembering an old Burzum-Prakh trick, he starts to flex each muscle, and unflexing it, helping the cramps to not form.
Grishnakh says, "Yes." After a pause, he adds, "Yes, you are right. The planning is supposed to be represented by the leaders, indeed, and if you LOWER leaders have nothing to build off of... Indeed." His voice seems to curl around the words, with a tinge of evil pleasure. "And how could YOU, the captain of Sarn Goriwing, be expected to offer warnings to the commander of the army, after all? It would be bad for morale, I expect. No. Better to wait, and remain silent, and allow the army to be destroyed," his voice grows harder, "so that you may cast blame readily when called forth for your failure. Indeed. Perhaps you are right. Captain Karja."
Karja stares at Grishnakh, takeing each constrictive and almost subliminal poetic verbal beating down into his heart. His eyes snap, on the inside, and his rage flows through his veins, but the uruk is not entirely foolish, and so does not speak on it. "Ar. Master, I have no more to say. I just be doin my job." He grits his teeth, unable to think of anything else sensible to say while in this half panic driven state. He looks down to the ground at his feet again.
Grishnakh remains silent for a long moment, staring at Karja with his narrow pale gaze.
Karja remains silent just as long as Grishnakh, and still, stareing down at his feet as if the only thing active about him was his mind, and very much so.
Grishnakh says, "You, the right hand of the commander of Dol Guldur, went forth to war, allowing a weakness to beset your army unchallenged. You instead moved where you would, allowing the other hand, the forces of Dol Guldur proper, to face the ambush of an enemy you knew to expect. Thank you for explaining these facts to me, LIEUTENANT Karja." He pauses again as he watches Karja. "I have an order for you, Lieutenant Karja, and I hope you will follow it as close as you have followed others before. Or closer. You are to remove your left hand, and keep it as a talisman, to remind yourself of the importance of each hand to the other. Now." He glances over toward Fauthmat. "CAPTAIN Fauthmat, you will see that my order is followed."
Fauthmat's head drops slightly lower.
Fauthmat says, "You will it, Vorazg, and it is done."
Grishnakh nods almost imperceptibly at Fauthmat's words, but his eyes are on Karja.
Burgluk winces from is sitting position as one of his brother Shamans is sentenced by the Vorazg. He wills his face to set straight and watches the goings on with blank features.
Karja quirks his ears as the first sting comes from Grishnakh's sound missiles. He closes his eyes, shakeing his head to himself as he begins to mumble uninteligible speach, perhaps a 'Tek'rak' vs 'Lieutenant' can be heard among these rambled and quiet words. A part of him is listening closely to the words of Grishnakh, causeing his attention to cease from his demotion when he hears of the order. "What?", he clumsily mutters out of his oversized jaw. He glances up towards Grishnakh, and raises his left hand to his eye level, then points to it with his right index finger, as if unsure. "My hand? You want my hand?", he rasps.. then another mumble comes from his voice, containing the words Ashjaki and Ritual for certain.
Gurzak watches impassivly the sentancing of Karja and the reward of Fauthmat....
Grishnakh smiles coldly for a moment as Karja babbles. "Lieutenant Karja, are you unable to carry out my order?"
Karja drops his hand to his side, shakeing his head in disbelief. He reorganizes his thoughts, slapping the side of his head with his right hand. "Ah. Uhm. No, Vorazg.. no.. I mean, I will do what your greatness says, of course." He croaks to himself, then looking back to Fauthmat. His glance returns to Grishnakh, a dreadfully hateful glint in his eye. Despite this, he does not seem to be acting as one would think someone in his possission would. " I will carry out the order myself. If I may have an axe, and perhaps a fire, Great Vorazg?" His voice has now cleaned itself of impurities, besides the obvious gutteral defects from his throat and lungs, he seems quite calm and certain of what his future is.
Fauthmat stands at Karja's apparent indecision, and walks with shuffling steps from his bowed legs to stand a few steps behind the former Tek'Rak. The heavily mailed Orc's hand rests upon the head of the long hafted axe hanging at his waist. He says no words, however his dark glittering eyes are fixed upon Karja's neck and shoulders.
Burgluk remains in the position that he has sat since the Vorazg let him sit, thankfull that that evil gaze has not been set on his eyes again.
Grishnakh continues to smile. "Of course, Lieutenant Karja. Do not think me unkind." He chuckles to himself and glances at Fauthmat, his voice losing its sarcasm as it becomes more straightforward. "Captain Fauthmat, provide the lieutenant with an axe." He stares at Karja, the notion of worry or fear as far from his visage as the hated stars over Amon Lanc.
Fauthmat draws the long hafted axe, and thrusts the butt end forward. "In fulfilment of my task," the black Uruk says, "I offer my own weapon. It's blade is keen and will suit the task." The light streaming out of the candles upon the altar shines down in a red glaze upon the black axehead, illiminating the fell run upon it's side.
Karja turns towards Fauthmat again, grabbing the axe with his right hand. No ineffection other than the roughness from the grab does he show, in fact, he tries to half smile again, before looseing the expression and turning back to Grishnakh. "My lord, great Vorazg of all wisdoms, I need a fire. I need a fire to burn my own wound else you wish me to bleed a quick death." He sneers slightly, his nose twitching, but quickly eliminates the notion of insulting the Vorazg, returning to his pale state.
Grishnakh continues to smile coldly, his fangs glittering in the dim candlelight. "I grow tired of waiting for you to follow my order, Lieutenant Karja. Any more delays and I will have it carried out more roughly than you would prefer."
Fauthmat holds a black eyed gaze upon Karja's own silent regard. It is only a moment, but the barest hint that his lip is pulled up on the side can be seen just before Karja turns away.
Karja rolls his eyes, some sort of insanity rolling on his insides. He sits down on the stone floor, hefting the axe in his right hand. He catches its weight, holding the handel of the axe near the very top where the blade itself rests, lays his hand on the cold floor, shivering, he raises the axe up a foot. His eyes lock on the vision of his wrist and hand, and then, he releases the potential energy of the held axe. Not a sound is heard until a loud *CRACK* sparks in the air, the sound of the axe collideng with the stone floor. Karja's hand seperates with ease, a sudden burst of black blood spilling out of his unburdened wrist, almost shooting it out, as a major artery is interupted, and the flow of the river in his arm is unexpectedly let loose from its dam. Karja clenches his teeth for a moment, tightly closeing his eyes, before finally letting out a great yell. The blood continues to pour, and his eyes look tiredly towards the Vorazg, stareing straight nto the mercieless eyes of Mordor's general. "Done, master.", he whispers to himself. Hate continues to rage in his tired body.
Burgluk only stares as the Rakarg cuts his own hand off, watching the Vorazg to see his reaction.
Grishnakh smiles. "Well done, Lieutenant," sparing bitter sarcasm even now: "For once."
Gurzak stares at Karja mouth twisting into a slight smile.....obviously enjoying his pain....
Grishnakh says, "Collect your talisman and preserve it." He looks out over the quiet gathering. "Burgluk of Barad-dur, you are promoted to Rakarg, lieutenant. Come forward now and see that your fellow lieutenant," he glances icily down at Karja, "survives the punishment for his failures."
Karja stares at the Vorazg still, a strange motivation keeping him from simply lyeing down and lettting himself die. He snarls down at the stained floor, and grabs his wrist. "Can I get a rag now? And den.. I want .. a fire.", he rasps. He holds his left wrist upright, so that less blood spills.
Orgo 's lips snap open and twist in a crooked grin, displaying rows of sharp yellow fangs. However, he eyes the Vorazg's back with a cold glare, shifting from him to the uruk-hai now short of a hand, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow.
Fauthmat stands silently behind. If there was a trace of a smile upon his face it is gone now. He stands still, quiet, his hands resting upon his hips.
Grishnakh looks out again, finding Gurzak in his cold gaze.
Burgluk nods once, eyes widening slightly at the title. he stand up, bowing to Grishankh. " Aye, Master Vorazg. I.. Er.. I will do dat." He bends down next to Karja, ripping a large rag off of his robe. He wraps it around Karjas wound, looking into his eyes as he does so.
Grishnakh says, "Lieutenant Gurzak of Minas Morgul. You may keep your rank. Perhaps after today you will be wary before surrendering your command to another, or before trusting another the way Teguk Lugoth seemed to foolishly trust in Karja."
Fauthmat steps up behind Karja, and retrieves the long hafted axe from where it has been discarded, covered in a pool of black blood.
Karja meets Burgluk's sight of eyes, glareing into them.. as if some kind of communication passed between them. His lips form into a smile, though his eyes still cruelly glare, shifting from Burgluk to Grishnakh. Without a moment's notice he looks back to Burgluk, and loses the smile. He nods to himself, then at the tyeing of his wound. "Somebody had btter get me a torch. I need to burn dis flesh.", he speaks lowly towards the other Shaman, gestureing his handless arm.
Gurzak turns his gaze back to grishnakh "Yes, master I have learned much....Did the Dratul Ver-beeg have the authority of the dark tower behind him in this or was I in err to come?
Orgo leans forward on his spear, studying Karja with the eye he has left. His fingers wrap tight around the shaft of his weapon, and a low humming sound seems to arise from his lips, now but a thin straight line on his face.
Burgluk glances around the area before grabing a torch from the wall, and holding out out to him. " Dare ye are. Burn yerself up, Brother."
Grishnakh looks at Gurzak narrowly. "The fact that you do not know even that, bears witness to your failing. Consider it, and be silent."
Gurzak nods and silences himself.....
Karja arches his left eyebrow, shakeing his head. "Ar. This is gonna be worse den battl dammage." He grabs the torch, looking at it, that and his handless wrist, between the two. He glances down back away at the pool of black liquid on the ground, a hand, and a stained axe. He grimaces, and looks back to thflame. His wound is extended into the flame, again makeing him screech out silently. He removes it after another minute, the blood clotted. "Good. Brother Burgluk congratulations for your rank." He tries his best not to be the uruk that just lost his hand and faced humiliation among the many other commanders in the greatest army of Middle Earth.
Grishnakh watches the orcs for a moment longer. "I will deal with Lugoth privately. You here before me, I hope, will remember my words. The Great Eye will not be pleased with your failure. He may not be pleased with my explanation of it." His voice lowers. "And any suffering which I receive for it, I will visit upon each of you tenfold in turn. Now. Your orders."
Grishnakh says, "Captain Fauthmat, you will lead troops of Dol Guldur and Sarn Goriwing, under Grazzt of the olog-hai, on a mission to the west. The Eye has need of the foals of the straw-headed fools of Rohan. Grazzt will tell you where you will seek them."
Burgluk nods to Grishnakh, letting out a small sigh. He glances back at Karja, smiling slightly. " Yes.. Well.. COngratulations.. On.. Successfully cuttin' yer hand off, Karja." Burgluk reachs his hand out to help the Uruk up, a small frown on his face.
Grishnakh says, "Lieutenant Gurzak, your troops will march with me and with the shamans of all the tribes back to Minas Morgul."
Grishnakh glances down at Karja. "Pay heed, Karja, for the Eldest may not tell you himself. You and all the shamans are to come with us to Dushgoi."
Burgluk thinks for a moment as to which group he will attend, his eyes narrowed and face scrunched up in thought.
Fauthmat bows low after droping the bloody axe through the loop on his belt. "Vorazg, I will see that it is done." His face is twisted in a scowl as he says, "I will talk to this Grazzt." And with that he turns and shuffles out of the cavern on his bowed fur clad legs.
Karja shakes his head, looking back to his hand and grabbing his hand off the ground. He looks at it, dangleing it before his eyes for a moment. A sickened chuckle comes from his lips, and energetically he stands again, stooping back over to his seat where he was before he was even addressed. He ignores the offered hand of Burgluk.
Gurzak nods to the vorazg "As you say It shall be done master.
Karja glances towards his left as he catches his name from the 'evil' voice, simply nodding quickly. "Yes your greatness.", he says in an underdeveloped voice, going back to his business inside his mind.
Fauthmat pushes lightly against one of the massive golden and it swings wide. It swings quietly shut after he enters.
Fauthmat has left.
Orgo is sunk into deep thought, his gaze set out on the far wall of the cave. To Karja he turns his attention shortly after, then to Burgluk, his countenance hesitant, one might almost say nervous, as he resumes his thoughts.
Grishnakh says, "The troops of Lugburz will go as well, to Dushgoi. These are your orders. We march within two nights."
Glass Doors
Pupil of The Eye
Massive Gold Doors