Inquisitor of Pulgorbuurz

First part accidentily deleted... The setting is that Prakhmog, DG's local inquisitor has been summoned to Teguk Ghazhgund to give him a potion he's prepared from Spider's blood, which will heal Ghazhgund's injured arm. Prakhmog is not highly trusted, but Ghazhgund doesn't have much time left before the injuries to his arm will be permanent and he'll be crippled.

Commander's Quarters

You walk into a dimly lit, rough hewn chamber. On the wall to your right hangs a single torch on a ghastly likeness of a hand. On either side of this torch hangs a pair of dwarven axes and a scimitar, all fairly battered and worn. In the center of the chamber stands a desk made of a large flat piece of obsidian, upon the surface sits a dark red candle and before it sits a black warg skin. Smeared across the wall faceing the desk is a dark red stain. Upon closer inspection it is seen to be in the shape of a large eye, painted in blood. A pallet of straw covered by a large bear skin lays near a pile of gnawed bones in the corner.

Contents:
Prakhmog
Throne

Prakhmog works his fingers down to the pouch, opening the buckle that held it closed and pulling a flap of leather aside. A claw reaches inside, clutches a dark flask filled with a darker liquid and stretches it to Ghazhgund, shaking somewhat visibly as he holds it for the Teguk to take.

Ghazhgund leans forward in the chair and reahces his hand out to take the flask from the Rakarg. Wrapping his large, hairy paw around it gently, almost too gently for an Uruk he withdraws his hand and looks at the flask in it. "So, this is it ? WHat do I do with it ?"

Prakhmog steps back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of a claw like hand. Then moving down and clutching his hands together, he speaks softly, "Drink it, Teguk...It will...heal you, I hope."

Ghazhgund frowns slightly, then looks from the flask to Prakhmog. A hint of suspicion in his eyes. He nods to the guards, and the two behind Prakhmog steps out to cover the door. The other two take one step from the dais to be closer to Prakhmog. All of the guards now rest their hands on their scimitars, clearly ready to use them if that should be necessary. Ghazhgund then shrugs slightly and puts the flask to his lips, taking a shallow sip from it. He grimaces as the liquid goes down his throat and coughs violently, almost dropping the bottle, "Gar !", he sputters, "This tastes like blood and ashes!"

Prakhmog is sweating profusely now, and shaking like he was being chased by one of the nine, but still nods and tries to mantain a smile... "It tastes bad, yes...I hope none of the ingredients were bad..."

Ghazhgund narrows his eyes, "You hope !?"; he snorts, "I'd think you wanted to be certain, considering who you made this for !" He spits on the floor. "Still, I've drunk some, and I'm not dead yet. SHould I take it all at once?"

Prakhmog takes a step back, his hands rubbing each other slowly, and seemingly relaxes, his eyes watching closely, he nods, "Yes...the full amount is...right for your wound."

Prakhmog me mutters something under his breath, looking down, that sounds like... "I hope...good...good...good."

Ghazhgund sighs, "Right." Decisively he raises the flask to his lips again ans without hesitation he pours the entire contents of the flask down his throat. A slight tremor shakes his body a the vile liquid burns its way down, then he spits again and closes his eyes, "Hrrrmph !", he states, "I find... your medicine...." The rest is lost in a cough and he skumps back in the chair. The guards alost instantly draw their scimitars, as if expecting ghazgund to drop dead. But the Teguk breathes still and he opens his eyes, "How long before this stuff starts working, Rakarg ?", he rasps in a low voice.

Prakhmog shrugs quickly, starting to shake again, "I don't know...first time I made it...", he pauses, looking down at the floor, and then snaps up, grinning, "That reminds me...I have a prisoner to question...ah...he is..."

Ghazhgund coughs slightly again, his mouth working as if something vile got stuck in it. he raises an eyebrow slightly, "WHat prisoner?", he grunts curtly

Prakhmog glances about the room at the guards and back to Ghazhgund, his hands twisting nervously against each other, "Just a prisoner..."

Ghazhgund snorts impatiently, "Well, what about him, Rakarg ?!", he growls. "Speak up !"

Prakhmog scratches his head, his eyes locked on Ghazghund, watching him for any reaction, but occasionally darting to the door, "He is...a prisoner...nothing more. Gubja is his name...been saying things, treason...against the Eye...", he stops for moments and takes a step back, "I really must go..."

Ghazhgund nods wearily, "Go, Rakarg. I'll see if this potion of your works. If not, we'll be having a little talk, you and I." He waves Prakhmog off.

Suddenly, like a great claw ripping through your entrails, a pain unlike anything you may have ever felt clutches your stomach. A great cold drills into your bones and spreads along your veins, running with the tainted blood in them, numbing your limbs, freezing you in place. The pain follows close behind, almost unbearable.

Prakhmog nods quickly and darts out for the door at once, his legs springing with amazing speed for one as twisted as he, a hand hovering by the hilt of his scimitar as he moves by the guards.

Ghazhgund suddenly jerks in his chair, his hands clutching his stomach. He cries out, "Treason !", in a choked voice and his guards immedieately jumping at Prakhmog, the two behind him covering the door.

Prakhmog jumps towards one of the guards, trying to knock him down with a heavy shove from his great shoulders.

Ghazhgund slumps back in his chair, his frame violently shaking. The guards react quickly as they see their leader betrayed and while the two by the door stand in Prakh's way as he bulldozes into them, th other two go at Prakhmog with raised scimitars teairng down at the Rakrg's body.

Despite the wrenching pain that coarses through his body, ghazhgund forces several of his fingers down his throat and vstarts retching vieolently, black liquid mingled with green and yellow lumps gush out of his mouth. He slumps down on his knees in front of the throne whil his body heaves as it tries desperately to rid itself of the poison before it does too much damage.

Prakhmog collapses onto the floor as the guards start attacking him, but his chain mail takes most of the blows, even if some black blood starts trickling down through the holes in his dark leather tunic. Reaching down with great speed, he yanks a small flask from his pouch and shrieks, "STOP!!!!"

The guards stop, rather hesitantly as the Rakarg shrieks as they see the flask in his hands. Still they remain close to him, ready to tear his throat out the minute they see he has nothing to say. Behind them ghazhgund forces his head up to look, almost disbelieveing at the Rakarg, "Give me...." he croaks, his voice barely a whisper, "One good.... reason I shouldn... kill you... right now !". His body seems to be slowing down terribly now.

Prakhmog ignores the ramblings of the orc on the ground and looks up at the orcs around him, speaking in a cold, evil hiss, "Your Teguk is dead...it's worthless for him to resist...and worthless for you to protect him anymore...this flask here is the poison of the fell beast...deadliest of all. Why don't you come with me...great rewards will be yours, gold, liquor, prisoners to torture at will. Azashchakka, if you are thinking about him, is a fool, and an ungrateful one, but I know how to reward those who serve me..."

>From Peaked Arch , Azashchakka +shouts, "ARGH! Whatz goin on here!"

Azashchakka walks in from the peaked archway leading to the hildo barracks.

As Prakhmog does his best to persuade the Ashjaki Guards, some disturbance is heard from outside of the COmmander's quarters and the Gund-Uruk-Hai, the Teguk's personal bodyguard comes rushing in from above, apparently alerted by someone in the barracks outside. The push in through the doors in time to overhear the Rakarg's last words, and the captain of the Gund-Uruk's sprint over to Gazhgund.

Azashchakka runs into the chambers snarling, his sword is griped in one hand, his shield borne on the other. He growls from the back of his throat and shouts, "What iz going on?" His nostrils flare and his beady eyes like hot coals focus on Prakhmog.

Ghazhgund lies on the floor in front of the throne, liquid gathering aroud his slcak mouth and his eyes are glazing over. Prakhmog is surrendered by Ashjaki guards and the captain of the Gund-Uruk-Hai is by Ghazhgund's side, shaking his head in anger and rage, pointing his scimitar at Prakhmog, "That traitor has poisoned the Teguk !", he roars.

Prakhmog suddenly takes the flask up, and brings it down hard, breaking it against the blade of his scimitar, what is left of the thick dark liquid slides down the blade, coating it, and dripping to the floor.

Azashchakka spreads his arms wide, he snarls and looks at Prakhmog murderuously, his voice is icy cold "This is between me and him Gund-Uruk-hai. Line the walls, secure the doorway... but first take his weapon from him... give him one we know is not poisoned. Lets see if the little sneak is so brave then."

Prakhmog crawls back against the wall, growling at all who approach, the scimitar held up menacingly, drops of the liquid falling down from the tip of the blade and onto the ground, "One step closer and you die..."

Azashchakka laughs mockingly, "So, the cowardly sneak will defend himself with poison... the Gund-Uruk-hai have no fear. They are TRUE Ashjaki. You wouldnt know anything about that. It is good that you left, or you would have surely died. Our lowest snaga is more of an Uruk than you."

The five members of the GUnd-Uruk stand close around Prakhmog, looking at his now poisoned blade and at Azashchakka. Their features are contorted with rage as they look upon the stooped Uruk in front of them. the other guards are backing away from the blade. the Captain of the Gund-Uruk-Hai snorts, "You are dead, poisoner ! you may have a poisoned blade, but we will cut you down no matter what you do ! If we die, we die like true Ashjaki, in battle! You die as a traitor to the Eye, as a sneaky poisoner. Lay down your weapon!"

Azashchakka +shouts "Sieze him! Strip his weapon from his hand! Give to him one of your own! And stand back! I will cut this miserable slug to pieces!"

Prakhmog 's eyes dart quickly from orc to orc around him, his whole body shaking as he craws back agains the wall, hugging it as close as he can, still holding the blade up, the fingers around the hilt slowly losing their grip.

Azashchakka's muscles are tense, he shakes slightly. He stands close to the archway of the room. He shouts, "Take the blade!"

The Captain of the Gund-Uruk-Hai now move away from the still form of Ghazhgund, his nostrils flaring with anger and rage. He points to the ground with his own blade, "Put it down ! You *will* get the chance to fight Rakarg Azashchakka. With a clean blade. Defeat him and you can walk away. From Dol Guldur and Mirkwood forever. Lose and you die !"

Prakhmog 's legs slowly push him up, his back still on the wall, taking slow steps towards the door, the blade held out, point hesitantly shifting from orc to orc. He stops then, growling out, "Damn you all, fools...you can have money, all the gold you wish...and yet you chose to follow that fool Azashchakka, and remain loyal to a dead leader...", the scimitar slips through his fingers and drops to the ground, where it rests still, oozing a puddle of black liquid death.

Azashchakka points at the blade, "Take the poisoners foul blade." He looks about at the Gund-Uruk, "Now, which one of you worthy Uruks will have thier blade stained by the hand of a traitor such as this? Who will give to this slime thier blade?

The captain of the GUnd-Uruk-Hai says, "Money, gold, weapons, we have that anyway ! We're the Ashjaki and we rule DG. You are a lowly poisoner with no-one to back you up when you're dead !" He then bends down to pick up the poisoned blade, his hand shaking slightly. He then tosses his own blade on the ground before Prakhmog, not caring how it lands, "He will use mine. Afterwards, when he's dead I will throw it in the Geysir, as a blade wielded by such a maggot can never cut true again."

Azashchakka slaps the blade of his scimitar against his shield. A metalic clank is heard in the sudden silence of the room. He shouts out, "Secure the doorway Ashjaki warriors, this worm will not escape my brooding vengance... He will pay for his crime in the wages of blood!"

Prakhmog bends down slowly, his eyes turned up at the Gund-Uruk-Hai around him, watching their movements. Then, feeling the cold steel on his fingers, he grips the scimitar and stands up, turning to Azashchakka, a hot glare of hatred on his deep red eyes.

Prakhmog grunts low, raising the hand holding the scimitar at Azashchakka, "If you claim you such a big warrior, at least let me arm myself..."

Azashchakka points the curveing blade of his scimitar at Prakhmog, "Know this traitor... if you should beat me in open combat you ARE free to go. But I dont see that happening. Yes you slime, toss on your armor, I will alow you that." Azashchakka holds his thick curveing blade close to his chest and looks on, his yellowed fangs bared in a rictus snarl.

Gund-Uruk-Hai Ashjaki-ob move back from Prakhmog and Azashchakka, blocking the door for everybody trying to get either in or out. They look at Prakhmog with deep hatred in their eyes. the Captain says, "If you win, although I can't see how Azashchakka can fail against one such as you, you will never ever be able to walk DG again, poisoner ! If you do, the Ashjaki will hunt you down and kill you !". He then moves back to the corpse of Ghazhgund to watch the fight, not letting Prkahmog near the Teguk again.

Prakhmog reaches with the right hand to his left shoulder, sliding the shield off its place in the belt and down his arm, to be held tightly in his left hand. Then he grabs the helmet hanging by his side and takes it up, sliding it on his head, drowning his face in shadows, nothing to be seen but the glow of two red slits behind the metal.

Prakhmog holds up a wide round shield of black leather. The red eye of Mordor is painted glaring in its center.

Azashchakka snarls, "Now you will feel the cut of an worthy blade, traitor." He begins to walk sideways, one leg crossing over the other, circleing in closer to Prakhmog.

Prakhmog holds the round shield before his body, turning so it keeps facing Azashchakka, his stooped figure hidden behind the leather, holding the scimitar out, a few inches from the edge of the shield.

The Ashjaki warriors now line the room, watching with steely eyes as the LataDurb of the Ashjaki engage the Uruk known as the Questioner.

Azashchakka hisses through his yellowed and chipped fangs at Prakhmog, his sallow sunken in eyes holding the other in a gaze of cold hatered. "Now you fall under my blade, you will suffer under the lash of Gothmog before this day has ended." He reverses his direction, takeing a step to the other side, thrusting his shield out before him. At the same moment his curveing scimitar jabs out at Prakhmog, probeing the other's defense more than it seeks blood.

Azashchakka attacks Prakhmog with his Scimitar, but he misses by a hair.

Prakhmog stands back from Azashchakka's attack, letting the blade cut thin air before him, and imediately springs into a lightning counter attack, lashing out with his blade in a sideways swing at his opponent's chest.

Azashchakka lets out a hissing laugh as Prakhmog shys away from his attack. Azashchakka's laugh is turned into a scream of rage as Prakhmog's blade skips across the top of his shield and slides across his chest drawing a small ammount of blood. He pulls his blade close to his body, and with a twist of his wrist it is flung in a vertical slash at the Prakhmog's sword arm.

Azashchakka attacks Prakhmog with his Scimitar and mildly wounds him!

Prakhmog brings his shield up quickly to block Azashchakka's blow, but merely manages to have the blade bounce off the edge and slip down, beating into his upper arm, the impact absorbed by leather and chain, and merely bruising the underlying flesh. Still, his lips twist in rage, and again he strikes, bringing the scimitar up with full speed, and down with all its weight, trying to fly above his opponent's shield and cleave his helm and skull into halves.

Azashchakka staggers backwards, seemingly bewildered with pain as Prakhmog's blade connects with his helm. The blade bounces off leaveing a considerable dent. He drops to one knee, his shield held above his head. Suddenly he lunges forward, the grimace of pain gone from his face, and his scimitar licking out at Prakhmog's knees. He dives, twisting, he falls upon his shoulder. Azashchakka continues on, rolling over and landing crouched with his sword held out verticaly before himself.

Prakhmog 's left arm flashes down, bringing the metal rim of his shield crashing against Azashchakka's blade and sending it out of its intended path. Turning to follow his enemy with cold glaring eyes, he springs forward into a jump, scimitar tearing through the air in a mighty slash for his neck, aiming on the beheading of the Ashjaki second in command.

Prakhmog attacks Azashchakka with his Scimitar, but he misses by a handspan.

At this point the logger (Ghazhgund) had to leave, but the end result was that Prakhmog won and left DG for good, whereas Lugoth (the leader of the Gund-Uruk-Hai) stepped up as leader and Teguk, and Fauthmat became LataDurb. Strangely enough, Lugoth used to be Ghazhgund and Fauthmat used to be Azashchakka... Hmmmm :)