Grishnakh and the Morgul-orcs

Nighttime on Highday, Day 20 of January, 3013



You walk out the gate and into the marsh.


Pediment below the Emyn Muil


You stand below the towering cliff that forms the southern border of the 
Emyn Muil. The scarp runs almost due east and west from here, then in the 
distance bends out of view to the north. A well trodden path--something you 
could almost call a road--runs parallel to the cliff, some few 100 feet from 
its base. To the south and southeast, a haze rises over the lowland marshes 
of the Nindalf and the Dead Marshes, respectively.



Around you, the frozen earth is rich and spongy, and the late night winter 
air is cold and snow-filled. A loud roar comes from the west which could 
only be the great falls of the Anduin, Rauros, plummeting down onto the 
lowlands.



It is snowing. 



Contents:

Foggy Marsh

Obvious exits:

West and East

You walk through the half-completed gateway and into...


Stone fort walls

You stand in the wide, circular courtyard of the unfinished fortress, the 
soft and grassy ground of the Nindalf beneath your feet. From this side of 
the walls, you can see the great iron frame for the gate porticulis, 
securely fastened to the yet unfinished walls of the barbican complex. In 
the center of this circle of stone are the foundations and rising walls of 
the incomplete fortress keep. Piled everywhere around you are high heaps of 
roughly hewn rocks and stones, as well as tall stacks of sturdy timber to be 
used in the construction.


Contents:

Arachias

Oglok

Small Tent

Small Wagon

Darkened cart

Black Horse

Mindless Snaga

Umgoff

Gray Tent

A Small Cart

Small Black Hide Tent

Wagon

Stone Keep


A snaggle-fanged snaga makes his way at a breathless jog among the throng of 
hard-working orcs. He wears the red Eye of Barad-dur on his black tunic, a 
sign which keeps him out of most of the trouble that would ordinarily follow 
such a lowly creature. Finally he appears before Arachias. Looking him up 
and down, Snaggle-tooth grunts. "Hoi boss. You from Morgul? I'm lookin' for 
Cap'n Oglok."



Arachias slowly nods his head and looks carefully at the creature. A long 
drop of drool falls from his lip and after a second or so of delay he points 
to the uruk-hide tent. Slowly his head turns as his arm moves upward, 
allowing his clawed finger to make the gesture. The mists of the bog curl 
around the bottom of his feet, creating a type of veil as they mask much of 
the two uruks and the rest of the fortress.


Oglok emerges from his tent, glancing around the camp briefly...


Snaggle-tooth follows Arachias' gesture, and sees quite a few tents and 
countless orcs. "Huh. What say you help me out, eh boss? Captain Grishnakh 
said I was s'posed to find Oglok."


Arachias sees his Teguk and makes his way over to him with the Barad-dur 
uruk. His feet carry him carefully across the mud and insect infested floor. 
His toes come to squash the life of those things unfortunate enough to be 
trapped below them. Foam spews over his tusks in unhealthy quantities, 
warning many of his ill temper and rage. Long slendor drops of drool fall 
from his lips, cascading to the ground to add to its moisture. As he passes 
by the dim fires of the camp he finally comes before his leader and stops to 
salute him with a fist to his chest and a stiff stance.


Oglok looks at the uruk as he approaches him, "What do you want?"


Snaggle-tooth follows Arachias closely, his eyes squinted as they pass 
through the crowds of uruk workers. He stops before Oglok and bows quickly. 
"Captain Oglok. I been sent by Captain Grishnakh. He said wants to talk to 
you and to any of your sergeants or officers who are around." He bows again.


Oglok turns his gaze from arachias to the other uruk, "He does? Where is The 
Vorazg then?"


Snaggle-tooth half turns and points a crooked finger across the courtyard to 
a wide, low, black tent standing alone against the central tower.


Oglok nods, "Is there anything else?"


Snaggle-tooth shakes his ugly head. "Nossir. Captain Grishnakh didn't say 
anything else."


Arachias steps out of the way of his Teguk and waits for him to begin his 
trip to the tent, or to speak with him. His eyes glint slightly in the in 
the growing fire light as wood and flesh and piled upon the hearths to 
expell the mists.


Oglok nods and looks to arachias, "Well you are the closest officer 
Logaz...Do you wish to see the vorazg?"


Arachias nods his head, "If it has been instructed I will follow you at his 
and your command my lord." His voice is gruff, yet respectful as he looks 
over the messenger a little closer to make sure he didn't leave anything out 
of the picture.


Snaggle-tooth waits patiently for the orcs to depart or order him away.


Oglok nods, "very well." and begins to walk towards the vorazg's tent, his 
boots dully thumping on the ground


Arachias follows...


Grishnakh can be seen within the shadows of his low tent. He sits on a heavy 
and well-scarred stool of some dark wood, leaning over a small anvil. With a 
hammer he beats what looks to be a grimy iron bracer, the noise of it 
blending easily with the constant din of the work of the orcs outside. He 
wears little, though he breathes in heavy, foggy gouts: a black tunic hangs 
half-open, revealing scars in his black flesh and a wide hard belly.


Oglok stops at the entrance to the tent and waits to be noticed by the 
vorazg silently...


Troglaaz enters through the outer gateway.


Grishnakh taps the armor a few more times with sharp, hard strokes, then he 
lifts the bracer and inspects it with a frown. Finally: "Oglok," he says, 
not looking at the entry of his tent. "Come in, you and whoever you 
brought." He turns and drops the greave onto a mound behind him.


Oglok nods and steps into the tent, his armor slightly creaking as he does 
so. stepping to the side so as to allow passage to arachias.


Arachias stops behind Oglok, his beady red eyes looking carefully at the 
Vorazg with some notable interest. Slowly he sucks in his drool and foam, 
clearing his nostrils by swallowing his phlegm. The mists of the bog now 
have almost disapated completely as the fires burn brightly overhead. Bits 
of ash and dust falls loosely on Arachias' head, falling off his scapl and 
cascading to the wet ground with a singing sound as it is put out by the 
mud.


Arachias steps into the tent, his eyes looking carefully at its sides and 
contents as he takes in the enviroment and then prepares himself for the 
meeting with the Voarazg.


Oglok looks to the vorazg and waits for him to speak.


Grishnakh regards Oglok and Arachias for a long moment.


Grishnakh says, "Well." His voice is low, the sound of it carrying easily in 
the confines of the heavy tent despite the constant rumble of noise from the 
work outside. He gestures to the mound behind him. In the flickering 
lamplight it can be recognized as the trunk and head of a human corpse, what 
was a young fair-beared man. "This tark-lover and quite a few like him were 
found on the eastern side of the River, nosing around. I want to know, why 
did your scouts fail to keep them on the other side?"


Troglaaz trudges out through the entrance of the large gray tent, his quick 
steps carrying him past two Uruk guards, who fall in silently behind him. 
The Teguk's powerful legs carry him across the large courtyard, as orcish 
slaves and warriors alike scramble off his path. The two guards follow a 
step behind, moving to stand by him as he stops beside a great cooking fire.


Arachias looks carefully at his Teguk and waits to be addressed as he 
assumes the blame will fall on him. His fleshy brows lower as he looks 
carefully at the Vorazy, respect present as always with those who are 
superior, yet thought as well. Slowly he places his hands firmly at his side 
and stiffens slightly, readying himself for the report.


Oglok looks at the vorazg and calmly says, "The scouts most likely failed 
because they were too few in number...as the majority of them had been 
assigned to the garrison and the Ithilien...


Grishnakh's eyes narrow and his jaw works thoughtfully. "Hmmm, yes. I 
remember hearing you talk about sending some back to Dushgoi for some 
errands or other."


Arachias jaw almost drops as Oglok's request does not come. Quickly, though, 
he composes himself and stands quiet, looking to the Vorazg and taking 
careful note of his response. His ears twitch as he strains to listen to 
ever syllable and every word, forming them in his mind along with their 
meaning.


Troglaaz takes a single step towards the crackling fire, his arms extended 
forward, palms outwards as he seeks the bright flames' warmth. His dark eyes 
look through the crowds around him, narrowing slightly as he spots the 
Vorazg by his tent across the courtyard. Leaning sideways slightly, he 
mutters several words to one of his guards, who simply nods before 
scrambling away back towards the tents.


Oglok nods, "several were sent to give reports on the Tek'rak's job of 
keeping dushgob running, apparantly all is going well." The Tark Presence 
around the crossroad has had a decrease also it seems...


Grishnakh nods slowly, thoughtfully. "I see, I see. Tark presence around the 
Crossroads, yes. How unusual. Indeed, alarming." He is silent for a second, 
but then his soft voice takes a harder edge. "And what of the Tark presence 
at the river-crossing, and here at the swamps? Have you had no reports on 
that?"


Oglok says, "No, I do not, I have been ordered to see that the construction 
continues as planned and that takes the majority of my time, The Teguk 
Troglaaz seemed to be handling the tarks well. If you so order it however I 
will find time to look into the tark problem..."


Grishnakh says, "If you can find time, eh? As I recall it, Oglok, I 
instructed your lieutenant, Glurg'erg, to handle the scouting. When he died, 
whose responsibility did that become?"


Oglok says, "I said I will find the time to handle it if such was ordered, 
and as that is your order...it will be done..."


Grishnakh's gaze is very cold. His voice lowers slightly in pitch, and he 
takes a few steps toward the captain and sergeant. "Answer my question, 
Captain Oglok."


The sun flashes brightly on the horizon. Night gives way to morning.


Oglok eyes the vorazg, "The answer to your question is the highest ranked 
remaining scout in the forces of minas morgul..."


Grishnakh snarls and steps very close to Oglok and Arachias. He reaches out 
with his left hand, a broad claw prodding Oglok forcefully. "The 
responsibility is yours, Captain Oglok," he says, nearly sneering the word 
'captain'. "Think on it. The Tarks are across the river, now. How long til 
they follow us into the swamps?"


Grishnakh looks at Oglok and Arachias in evident disgust. "Both of you leave 
my sight. But bear this in mind: I'll want an accounting, if the Tarks find 
us out before this fortress is ready. And I don't think either of you will 
like the cost."


Oglok upon hearing the vorazg dismiss him dosen't even bother waiting for 
arachias to move and pushes by him out of the tent....


Arachias is pushed quickly out of the tent, and moves along with his Teguk, 
his brows lowered as he seems deep in thought. As he moves he finally 
speaks, "Sir, I will move immediately outside the fortress and ensure that 
we are not discovered this very night." His voice is gruff, respectful, and 
reassuring as it passes through the mists of the bog, bringing forth silence 
from the animals of the swamp momentarily.