The Inspector from Lugburz

Glurg'erg steps out from his tent within the fort, his large spear held tightly in one hand. His eyes are narrowed in anger for some unknown reason as he stalks through a crowd oF Uruks, Barking in anger at any who get in the Tek'rak's way. A particularly stupid snaga stumbles in front of Glurg'erg, his back arched with the strain of carrying bricks and stone, the spear of the officer whips out, drawing a spray of blood from a large slash on the Snaga's back. The small Uruk tumbles out of Glurg'erg's way, crying out in pain.

Arachias see's the Tek'rak moving towards his position and quickly finishes his work. Then in a move to salute him he steps aside and stands stiffly into position. With a slam to his chest and a cowering of his head he acknowledges with a respect mood the prescence of his strong superior. Then slowly he stands there, waiting for the order to resume, the others about him doing the samee.

Gurgarath walks around the varying piles of debris, blocks of stone, scafolding, steping surprisingly quickly for his ponderous size. His black clawed hand rests upon the head of the heavy hammer at his waist. From time to time he pauses behind a crew of Orcs as they work madly in his presance, watching.

Glurg'erg reaches one of the many lines of Uruks working, and picks out one that he knows to be a Dog. Pointing towards Arachias, he crookes a finger, motioning him to come forward. " You! Maggot! Git yer filthy hide over here, Now!"

Arachias steps forward and nods his head, letting it lower further as he adverts his eyes to the ground in submissive understanding, "Yes my great Tek'Rak." he states in a respectful and deep bellowed voice. Then in silence he stands, the cold air of the swirling mist knipping at his toes while he draws in his foam and drool to restrain from offending the figure before him.

Gurgarath, hearing what seems to be a particularly enterprising Orc shouting orders to those under his command, turns around. One hand still rests atop the head of the huge hammer, but the other runs lightly over his scaly chin.

Gurgarath's glittering black eyes study Glurg'erg and then Arachias.

Glurg'erg glances to the Weapon in Arachias's hand, and raises an eyebrow. His spear is slamed into the soft, spongy ground next to him, and he draws out his own sword, testing the sharpness with a grubby finger. His eyes fix on Arachias's protection, his Scale armor, and those eyes narrow. " Tell me, DOG, Why do ye be wearing armor made of metal? That kind be for only those with the title Tek'rak, and above, IDIOT!"

Arachias looks down at the scale armor on his form and then looks up to Glurg'erg, his beady red eyes shinning in the foul fire light, "My great and powerful Tek'rak it was the armor that I was given. The Eye watches over those who follow it without question, and I have come to believe this was the gift it so deemed for me to have." his voice is strong, yet respectful. He lowers his head slightly more, letting Glurg'erg know his strong loyalty to him and then remains silent. The dark mist on the floor continues to coil about his body as it feeds the chill running through the armor and his cold heart. Strange sounds of crickets and monstrous animals squeak loudly in the distance of the bog, letting the ill fated orcs know of their waiting hunger.

Gorp shields his eyes with his hand, blocking the glare so he can see.

The tiny crimson eyes of Glurg'erg narrow, staring at the small creature in front of him, seeming to way his soldier. His bare toes tap softly against the soft ground, his fist clenching and un clenching the sword he holds in his hand. He finally nods slowly, satisfied with the answer. " Alright then, Dog... Ye shall be keepin' yer armor, along with yer head. " Glurg'erg glances towards a Snaga who is panting, tired from the long days of work. The Slave plops down to the ground, trying to get a bit of rest in. The Tek'rak quickly forgets about the Dog in front of him, and turns his full attention to the slave . His scimitar flashes in the firelight as he walks slowly towards the Uruk, a grin of wicked pleasure on his ugly face.

Gurgarath stands almost completely still, like some huge dark and twisted statue amid the hazy swamp air. For a few moments he stands in silent contemplation of the Orcs before him, and then his toeless feet carry him nearer.

Arachias steps back into line as the great Tek'Rak lumbers away from him and the other workers by the wall. Then in a quick movement with his arm he instructs the few under his command to continue their work and himself moves back to the wall, piling bricks and stirring morter. His beady red eyes glow dimly in the swirling mists of the swamp as he works, a loyal and content smirk on his crooked lips.

Gulwort groans slightly in pain as he sits down, his muscles aching with the countless hours of working for the ruthless Officers. Gulwort spat at the thought of them, with their whips and rods and Scimitars. Mumbling under his breath, Gulwort stretches his arms up in the air, glad for the momentary relief. Suddenly, pain shoots down from the join of his hands into his arms. THe Snaga cries out in pain as a spurt of his own blood covers him, his hands falling to the ground in front of his face. " Glurg'erg stands over him, a snarl on his lips, a bloodied Scimitar in his hand. Bellowing with rage, Glurg'erg roars, " GIT BACK TO WORK, YE LAZY MAGGOT!!"

Grishnakh moves through the fog of another dreary autumn day in the swamp, a low black shape loping slowly on crooked legs as it comes through the tall gates of the fortress.

Gurgarath's hand drops to his belt, easing the huge hammer there out of it's leather loop. Slaping it's flat head against his palm, the troll looks at Glurg'erg's back as if considering something. With the decision plainly made, the troll pushes the head of the hammer at the Orcs shoulder, lightly tapping it, "I said turn around."

Arachias fingers crunch and work diligently over the surface of the wall, while globs of sweat and dirt roll of his clayish flesh. His bead eyes glitter in the dim light of the swamp as the fires of the fortress casting small flames within his pupils. With each lifting of a brick, and each smoothing of morter, his muscles strain and buldge, yet he makes no complaint. His work continues, content and loyal to its to be finished cause.

As the Tek'rak Glurg'erg watches the lowly snaga run off, crying out in pain, he hears a deep, rumbling voice behind him. He stiffens slightly, recognizing the sound. He turns quickly about, Holding his Scimitar point down at his side. As he turns around the Troll reaches out it's 'light tap' at Glurg'erg shoulder. The Tek'rak is knocked back a few feet, and he lets fly a volley of curses, clipping them quickly off as he remembers the cause of his pain. He rolls his shoulder joint, but makes no other move. " Yes, Mighty Olog?"

Gurgarath's lips twist in a sneer of disgust, exposing a line of white fangs. "Who do you serve under?" he asks.

Glurg'erg does not hesitate in answering. " I be serving under few, Great Olog. I be serving under you and yer kind.. I be serving Under da Eye, Da Vorazg, and..Oglok, Teguk of Minas Morgul. "

The low black shape pauses as it steps through the gateway. The great black head turns left and right, slowly, inspecting the activity of the orcs and ignoring those nearby who pause to salute or who move a little further off. Finally his gaze lingers on a shape in the mists far greater than the rest, the unmistakeable form of a great troll towering over one of the uruk officers. With pale eyes, Grishnakh silently watches.

Gurgarath's sneer drifts into a mocking smirk, but the creulty does not leave his face. "What rank?" he asks simply.

Glurg'erg replies just as simply, " Tek'rak, Great Olog. "

Arachias hears the bellowing of the olog's deep voice and stops his work, while he motions those about him to continue. Slowly he turns to look at the conversation, careful not to draw attention and carful to remain silent. His beady red eyes focus on the large, towering form in shock and amazement as he gazes overs its massive form and tree trunk sized legs.

Gurgarath looks skyward for a moment, muttering the word 'Oglok' under his breath. "Right," the troll says as he looks down again, "So tell me..." The troll's voice trails off as he looks from side to side, well aware of the attention falling upon him, "How do you expect the maggots to work if you're slicing them open?" Without waiting for a response, the Troll continues, "If this fortress isnt built on scheduele, you, Oglok, Troglaaz, and all your betters is gonna feel the sting of Lugbuurz's wrath. Beat them, bruise them, but make sure they can work."

Grishnakh steps closer, now, his pale eyes keen as they fall upon Glurg'erg. When he is a few yards away and to the left of Gurgarath, he looks up at the enormous troll. His soft voice rises enough to interrupt a reply by Gurgarath. " Do you come from Lugburz, then? And how has this officer earned your irritation?"

Glurg'erg seems slightly taken aback by the Olog's... chiding, and opens his mouth to protest quietly. His voice, however, is overcome by that of the Olog's. Glurg'erg waits patiently for the large mountain of evil to finish, before says in an emotionless tone, " I'm sure the snaga will be able t' work.. He kin haul the stones with his arms.. " The Tek'rak pauses for a moment, then ads, " And He be not stopin his work again, I assure ye, Great Olog. " Glurg'erg seems about to wait for a dismisall, but his eyes widen in fear of the beast taking his words as defiance. " But if ye want me t' stop teachin' the other maggots what happens when they slack off, I will, Great Master. "

Arachias turns back to continue his work, his back lowering to lift bricks and place them into the ever climbing wall. His ears fall upon the speech of the olog and the powerful uruks near the center of the fortress, yet he makes no obvious action to bring attention to this observation. Instead in diligently continues his duties, letting his actions remain a model for those working around him.

Gurgarath snarls, "When your shift is up, you will report yourself to Oglok for what punishment he sees fit to give you, and you had best insist that he not be lenient." He then looks away from Glurg'erg, towards Grishnakh, noding once, before switching languages easily...

Gurgarath says in Morbeth, "Of course I come from Lugbuurz. You must be the captain of these swine, well I dont envy you. That one was slicing open the snaga under his command when you're behind ********* here."

Glurg'erg's lips draw into a thin line as the Olog snarls, his decaying breath washing over the officer. GLurg'erg, used to bad smells of all sorts, only narrows his eyes, before bowing low, and walking away from the pair of powerfull Eye servants. When he is far enough away from the pair that he can barely hear them, he turns away, and heads quickly for Oglok's tents...

Grishnakh's hunched form cranes back uncomfortably to allow him to look up at the enormous troll, but neither his voice nor his face betray any discomfort. He seems quite calm. "Aye," he says, and glances sharply at Glurg'erg for a second. "Some of my troops came from Lugburz a while back, and his type need to be taught a thing or two about leading out in the field." Then he speaks again in the other tongue...

Arachias ears prick upward in the stale air of the bog, letting the dark vibrate into their canals as they take in the words of the great olog and hai which speak in the distance. At a quick pace he continues his work, refusing to let anything seem to distract him as he increases the height of the walls, layer by layer.

Grishnakh says in Morbeth, "The work is progressing apace, but you're right. The troops are building more slowly than they should. With the swamp, and the cursed Horse-lovers coming close, they get distracted. But you can take the message back: they'll have it finished, and we'll bring booty along the eastern road by Springtime."

Gurgarath sits back upon an Orc high pile of cut stone blocks, idly stowing his hammer in the loop upon his belt. With elbows braced upon his knees, the Troll looks down at Grishnakh and laughs, " Oh I can, can I? Then perhaps now would be a good time to tell you that the ******** for your Orcs finishing this fortress has been moved up two weeks. Seems Lugbuurz doesnt want any slip ups on this one, and maybe they want to see some heads roll. No, I'm going to stay here untill that time, and then I'll go to Lugbuurz, either with praise, or with curses for this operation."

Grishnakh remains silent for a moment. He nods slowly, but his mind is clearly racing behind his narrow, pale eyes.

Grishnakh says in Morbeth, "Very well. I'll see that the troops are motivated to work hard enough to complete it by then, whatever it takes. The rains will come soon, and the stinking horses will have a harder time of it as they try to track us down."

Arachias finishes his his last layer of bricks with all that is avialable and then stretches his back and neck, letting the bones crack with their torments. Slowly he plunges towards his tent, his beady red eyes glowing in the darkness of the swamp as a faint and humble sigh comes deep from his gut. A few crickets and creatures of the bog fill the black air with their cringing sounds and then with a push of the flap and a string from the cold mists, he enters his tent.

Arachias pushes aside one of black hided tents flaps, and steps into its foul darkness.

Gurgarath snorts a short laugh, " Look, now I want the same thing you want here, and that's Lugbuurz to turn it's ********* *********. Work with me, and I'll work with you." Looking up suddenly, the troll cracks the vertibrae in it's neck. " The sooner we get this done, the better," he says, " My gaurd is here with me, and they'll help out. Not much for brains, but they can sling stone around well enough."

Grishnakh grunts and nods, but after a brief pause, only a split-second's hesitation as if he seems to consider the troll's words. " Good, good. Every strong hand will help, whether in lifting the stones or in driving the Horse-men off."

Gurgarath's eyes glitter, " The name's Grishnakh, right?" Without waiting for a response, the Troll continues, " Gurgarath, Chief Inspector of Lugbuurz. Aye, they called me down from Mirkwood to observe this operation."

Gurgarath's laugh is a gravely bit of work, scraping and scratching like a rockslide, " When I file my report on Mirkwood, the ******** attention should be focused away from here soon enough."

Grishnakh nods again, his large head swaying softly. " I am Grishnakh, yes. And I have heard little of our work in the north, only rumors of raids on the Woodsmen. The Nazgul diverted the troops we sent for supplies. They served well enough, I hope."

Gurgarath laughs, " Did well? I'd call the Orcs in that garrison a slimy bunch of treacherous toads. I heard about you taking away their tribes, it seems your word is not listened to as closely as it could be up there."

Grishnakh's eyes narrow, and gleam in a way that any but a troll would find dangerous. " Is it, now? Interesting. So, they still call themselves Ujakalsaki and strut about in wolf-skins, do they?"

Gurgarath shakes his head, " Oh, they're scared allright, they dont openly show it, but the old tribe there is still in force, and growing bolder all the time. I couldnt tell you for certain, but it seems a certain 'bear platoon' might have suppourters of the tribe. Their snaga seemed ********* ignorant of what their insignia stood for. Could call it a case of a stupid snaga... but I wouldnt after what I've seen."

Grishnakh curses softly. " What about Grazzt? They are commanded by the Olog-hai up there. I hope he at least pounded some obedience out of them."

Gurgarath hisses, " I'd imagine the vermin know enough to stay away from that one with their tribes. But who knows? Like I said, the attention of Lugbuurz will be drawn there soon enough, and then we'll see what's behind the old symbols and the bear claws." The great beast snorts, and shakes his head in disbelief, " And what's more, I'll tell you that garrison is understaffed. Their village may be no more, but the woodsmen are not beaten. They have allies, the Gazat, and the Albai, and they will retaliate. They spoiled a rite worshiping the master, a whole army of the Dwarves and the Woodmen, attacking out of the forest."

Grishnakh mutters softly, " Indeed? Sounds like poor planning, and no scout-work. I may need to take some troops north, then, and quickly." His eyes look idly across the working orcs as he seems to think for a second. " Aye, an officer or two and a good loyal company of fresh troops would shake things up well enough, I think. Though it will be hard to do much before this swamp-castle is finished."

Gurgarath growls, " And the sooner you finish here, the better it will be all around. Pulgorburzob Uruks in a swamp." The Troll snorts.

Grishnakh chuckles quietly. " Aye. Well, nobody here thinks they know enough to question the orders. It just makes for slower going, that the orcs are more used to their mountains and forests. But I've been hearing them complain for a year, since we held off the Tarks in the ruins. And every year before that."

Gurgarath focuses his gaze on you for the first or second time, dark and cold it is, " And you think it good enough to merely hold them off? When we've suffered in campaign after campaign?" Snorts, " I can tell you that the higherups have been displeased with our efforts for a long time, and I wouldnt be surprised if this little venture was set up to relieve themselves of a few ******** they might be able to live without."

Grishnakh glances up warily for a moment. Finally: " Could be. Could be. I've faced the Eye, and He'll take me to the Pits when He's ready, I'll warrant, the same as with every one else." He gestures out across the working orcs with a sneer of contempt.

Grishnakh says in Morbeth, "These slaves! If they knew what I know, they might strive a little harder. But they're lazy fools. So we apply the lash, and we fight the Tarks and hold off their best troops, even though ours can't push them far but once in a decade." His voice is lower for a moment, contemplative. "The Tarks are careful, now, since they felt the sting at Pelargir. There'll be no catching them unawares as we did then." He is silent again for a moment. "But the Eye sees all this already. When I fail my mission, I'll know it soon enough.""

Gurgarath stands, and says shortly, " Enough talking, when I feel this operation has come along enough we will have another meeting." Half nodding to you, the Troll says, " I'll have to see how the troops are getting set up. I hope the bleeding beasts havent gone outside to stare at the sun."

Grishnakh nods slowly. " Use them as you wish. They'll do their work, even if the fog lifts and the days get hot again."

Gurgarath turns without another word, and makes this way through the courtyard which is abuzz with activity: Orcs pushing carts, and pulling giant blocks of stone, snaga with waterskins and sergeants with whips. Eventually he disapears behind a half built wall.

Grishnakh watches the troll depart, then turns himself. With a purposeful stride, he lopes toward the darkened command tents, choice words already nearly formed on his twisted black lips...