Shadows in Minas Morgul

Minas Morgul:Stairway 3rd level

You stand on the landing on the third and top story of the Tower of the Ringwraiths--the lair of Sauron's finest and most trusted servants. The darkness seems nearly physical here, so thick is it, yet this place is filled with the gruesome light of Morgul, a pale phosphorescence, an unholy death-light which illuminates nothing.

You can see several windows in the thick walls, windows which reveal a bleak landscape. There is Morgul Vale, with its icy river and its haunting pale meads, and the jagged and rocky Mountains of Ash rising beyond. A strange vertigo overtakes you as you look out into the grim world of Mordor, and slowly you realize that it is the dizziness of motion: the landscape seems to be moving, slowly drifting past in a bizarre panorama as this highest level of the Tower of Wraiths turns in an unnatural and endless rotation.

Contents:
Scrag
Obvious exits:
Passage North leads to Minas Morgul.
Passage South leads to Minas Morgul.
Down leads to Minas Morgul:Stairway 2nd level.

Scrag says weakly " Forgive me for comeing into your area, Masters. " he then starts to back up on his knees to the stairs . He then stops, and gulps knowing that if he was called here this might be a test, and if he was not he will dead if he is not ordered to leave. he now knows he is doomed. At this he drops to the ground and dose not move, as fear of the unknow freezes him.

You feel an evil presence nearby, perhaps watching you.

Mouth_of_Sauron comes up the stairs.

Mouth_of_Sauron has arrived.

Scrag knowing he can't take being in this area much longer he brings up the last of his willpower to say in a loud, but fear full voice "How can I die for you,Masters" with the last of his willpower gone he waits for dead to grab hold of him

Narulzor comes up the stairs.

Narulzor has arrived.

Gutrot comes up the stairs.

Gutrot has arrived.

The biting white light glowing behind Narulzor casts a long eerie shadow on the steps ahead of him, which he climbs steadily, until, at a certain point, his shadow can no longer be distinguished, merging with the thick darkness that hangs like heavy curtains in the room.

Gutrot trudges slowly up the stairs in the wake of the Mouth of Sauron and the Inquisitor of Barad-dur. His black face is set in misery and fright, and he seems to be shuddering uncontrollably.

You feel an evil presence nearby, perhaps watching you.

Scrag is bowing to nothing and seems to be shaking with out reson, and is clearly not in his right mind

An oppressive feeling of fear overtakes you as you sense the presense of nearby evil.

Mouth_of_Sauron comes up the massive stairs, following the Inquisitor and the orc. Harsh white light glows from his palm, beaming into the room. He looks into nothing with his sorcerer's eye and nods. "Ring wearers," he says with respect. The older man recognizes the troll and snarls. "I see you have gotten to him before I did."

The pale death-light which consumes this part of the tower seems to brighten ffor a moment. The air, ever still, grows yet more chill, as if with a breath of the dank stillness of the grave. There is a rustling in the darkness.

Witch-king gathers his robes about him and becomes plainly visible.

Uvatha gathers his robes about him and becomes plainly visible.

Scrag at hearing the voice of the Mouth of Sauron, he now knows he is turely doomed. He then pushes his head to the floor and waits for darkness to take him.

Gutrot squeaks and stumbles back a step, then flops to his knees.

The glare of reddish eyes appears first. Then there is the gleam of bright steel, and the blackness of robes flowing beneath it. The High Nazgul steps forth from the shadows, and is there.

Mouth_of_Sauron makes barely a move as the two Nazgul appear out of seemingly nothing, although his head nods slightly and his eye glints, as if seeing the inner workings of the magical beings and is still impressed with it, after all his time in the service of the Dark Lord. He says tightly, "The Gondorian spy I caught is gone. He could have told us much, I surmise." The Mouth of Sauron addresses the troll, "This is the second time you have failed, troll."

Narulzor stands behind the older man, his own eyes peering at the same nothing the other does, yet seemingly finding nothing, for his gaze delves deep and far beyond what might lay there. At the High Nazgul's appearance, he flinches, an almost unseen motion, and slowly falls upon his knees, rememberance sending a chilling needle down his spine. A soft shiver follows his sight to the ground.

Scrag dose not look up, or even react to the Voice of the Eye's words. The tricks of the tower's upper leveles have alreadly seemed to have shattered it's poor mind. The only answer that the troll gives is a faint wimper

Witch-king looks upon the looming form of Scrag with a flash of deadly-cold eyes. "Warlord," he says, in the hollow hissing voice of the Nazgul, "Explain thyself and thy failure."

Uvatha seems to flow forward, to stand next to, but slightly behind the other nazgul. His eyes flicker from the Human, to the troll and back again. A slight hissing passes his formless lips

The Mouth of Sauron closes his fist and the light extinguishes. But as he opens his fist a long cruel dagger is in it. He rolls its pommel between his fingers almost absent-mindedly as he waits for the troll to speak.

Scrag at the High Nazgul's words, seems to gain a bit of strength back and says weakly "I give the orders to keep the patrols on watch, I gave order to have the human killed if ther camp was attacked" his strength then gives out and he wimpers "I don't know what happened, masters. If only the human guard would have help when the attack came"

Mouth_of_Sauron's eyes narrow to tiny slits. "Oh? And what human guards were these?" He turns slowly on his heel and looks at Narulzor. "You said nothing to me of this, Inquisitor."

The hollow voice of the Morgul-lord is a low sneer. "I find thy excuses as useless as thy cowardice, olog. Were only the men of Barad-dur set to guard the prisoner given to thy care?" He does not wait for a response. The glaring eyes turn to Narulzor.

Scrag can only answer the Morgul-lord weakly with"I had uruks watching the human, master" he mind then falls back into maddness that the upper levels of the tower have given him.

Narulzor 's gaze flashes towards Scrag, and at once his glare narrows. Hate, raw, unbriddled, flickers within the depths of his pupils, and the ring of grey ice that colors his eyes tightens around it. Without turning his head, he answers coldly, "My guards did fight, where I thought they were needed, against the soldiers of Minas Tirith that threatened to sweep past the orcish defenses this Olog set up, despite their inferior number. I saw no reason to guard the human prisoner."

Witch-king remains still and silent for a time, staring at Narulzor

Mouth_of_Sauron raises one grey eyebrow and steps towards the Inquisitor. "You saw no reason to guard the human prisoner," he repeats. He clucks his tongue. "Was it not enough to know that I had brought the prisoner back myself? That the prisoner did wound The Mouth of Sauron?" He gets in the man's face and hisses, "But you saw no reason?"

Narulzor draws his gaze from the troll to the Mouth and shrugs, "I knew not the man was your prisoner, my Lord, nor did I know he had wounded you. The Olog told me no such thing, I believe he wanted the merit to himself.", his lips are curled into a bitter grimace, but his flat, almost casual voice, shows not the mix of fear and hatred boiling within him.

Scrag shakes his head as the Voice of the Eye and the Morgul-lord vent there anger and rage on Narulzor. He is able to pull himself out the darkness his mind has fallen into with the faint hope that it is the human that is at falt of the loss at the crossroads

Low, cruel laughter echoes hollowly throughout the chamber.

Scrag edges back toward the stairs at the unholy sound that echoes thoughout the area, but falls short of standing and trying to flee down the stairs. he then forces himself to rase his head and look at Narulzor, knowing that that sound was do to this humans answer.

Mouth_of_Sauron folds his hands together and the dagger becomes a puff of smoke. He looks between the troll and the man, his lips pursed. "Sauron only rewards those who lie well, and the two of you are pitiful examples of the Eye's might, I must say." He reaches a hand back and rubs the back of his neck. "I have neither the time nor patience to figure out who is to blame here." He steps back and mutters some words. A circle of flame springs up around the troll and the Inquisitor. "Whomever lives shall be allowed to live," the Mouth of Sauron calls over the crackling flames. "Only one will live though. Fight, you worthless maggots!"

Mouth_of_Sauron crosses his arms and looks on, an amused smile twisting on his thin lips.

Scrag blinks in shock as flames jump up around him, he then stands and pulls his axe free form his belt. He them looks at the human that is in the ring of fire with him and smiles knowing that he has one chance to get out of this. He then lets out a howl of rage and jumps at the human with a power over the head swing in a vain hope that he will be able to shatter the humans colerbone.

Scrag pulls his war axe from it's belt loop and holds it at the readly.

The ruddy light of the crackling flames plays eerily off the black robes and gleaming silvery crown of the Witch-king, as shadows chase shadows in the sudden flickering light. The Nazgul remains still as the fire springs to life, unmoved by its light or heat. His eyes gleam only brighter, shining with malice at the hapless man and troll.

As the flames leap up, dancing all around him, the Inquisitor hesitates for a moment. A single moment, however, for a moment later he is standing, and from within the dark folds of his robes a mace is brought forth. His thin white fingers curl around the black haft of the weapon, and with a trace of orange reflexes, bring it up to block the incoming blow. Loud is the clash of wood on wood, followed by a groan as Narulzor is driven to his knees by the force of the impact.

Knowing that his life rides on this battle give way to his battle lust and buts up his weapon quickly. He then lets out a howl of pure hate and swing down with all his might, in a hope to shatter the humans head in one blow, hopeing his greater strength with with out over the humans speed.

The howl is warning enough for Narulzor, allowing him to roll away before the incoming axe finds him. A few feet off to the side, he stands up with a jump, turning to see the blade cleave air where his head would have been. Robes hardly having the time to settle down, he rushes forward, mace whirling above his head then moving towards the Olog's weapon arm, the jagged head seeking to rend it useless.

Scrag hisses loudly as the humans mace hits his arm with a sicking *crack*, and forces him to drop his weapon do to the power of hit. Scrag then makes a fist with his free hand and swings out at the human that stands before him, with the goal of trying to wind the weaker human.

Scrag puts down a Battle Axe.

Narulzor dodges the stone hard fist headed towards him with a quick sidestep. Roaring a vibrant, "Die, beast.", he takes the mace in both hands and deals out a quick blow powerful swing at the creature's jaw, teeth gritting as his whole torso rotates to follow the momentum of the weapon.

Scrag hisses as the humans his able to side step his fist, but then smiles as he sees the humans next attack as it chargens in. The trool is able to side steps the humans charge but takes a mace blow on his upper leg. As the humans charges past, Scrag swing back with his fist with a hard blow aimed for the back of the humans head, and yells "Now I will show you the gift of pain!!!"

The loud crack of a bursting human skull is followed by the softer delicate sound of bone splinters gritting together and digging into flesh and brain. A robed corpse stumbles forward, letting behind him the mace drop on the stone floor with a loud clatter as it rolls away. As if by a final effort trying to go beyond the circle of fire, it fails and falls upon it. Flames jump up, as if the figure's robes were fuel for them, and lick up its motionless frame. A ring of metal is heard as a twisted circlet of silver rolls on the floor, stopping only when it hits the far wall of the room.

The grim and hollow laughter of the Nazgul again echoes from the pale stones of the Tower.

Scrag lets out a howl of victory as he see the body of the human slam into the wall of the tower. He then looks back and sees the Voice of the Eye and then Nazgul and the smile on his face fades as he drops to his knees again and waits to findout what will become of him.

With a rustling of heavy black robes the Morgul-lord steps forward. In the emptiness between silvery crown and broad black mantle his eyes gleam red and cruel.

Mouth_of_Sauron looks to the Nazgul. "The troll is yours to do with as you will, ringwraiths," he says, stepping back and turning away. He snaps his fingers and points to the blackened body. Some horrified orcs rush to pick it up and follow the Mouth of Sauron down the stairs. He does not look back.

Mouth_of_Sauron treads carefully down the great stairway.

Mouth_of_Sauron has left.

Witch-king says, "So," his voice flat and cold, "doth the olog-hai survive."

Scrag gulps as the Morgul-lord moves forward and speek to him. He then nods quckly and wispers "Yes Master, how can I best server the Eye?" he then looks to the ground to keep his himself from fleeing the Nazgul.

Witch-king stops very near to the hulking form of the troll. Tall and broad for a man, the Nazgul is far smaller than the massive olog-hai... but his presence is undiminished, a chilling aura of power. "Thy service is at an end, slave."

Scrag jaw drops at the words of the Morgul-lord. he then stammers "Master, Please I have servered you well, I have server the Eye well." he then lowers his body so he bows fully before the nazgul "I will not fail you again." he then closes his eyes knowing his plea has fallen on cold, unfeeling ears.

Witch-king's voice seems to fill with bitter humor. "Thou craven beast. How many of thy kind did the Dark Lord rear from the black stone of Mordor? What is thy strength that it should excuse folly and lack of wit?" Again there is the cold, shuddering laughter of the Nazgul. "Did thou think to find mercy in the sight of the Eye?"

The chamber grows icy and the death-light seems to glow ever brighter within the Tower as the High Nazgul bends his will upon the olog-hai.

Scrag can only say weakly "You are the will of the Eye, and your words are his words." then pushing back his fear and every cry form his brain to run, he says in a stronge voice "How can I die for you , Master?" his voice then gose quiet as the odd light fulls the room.

Witch-king says, "It matters not, slave." A new light flickers suddenly within the chamber: a long blade is held within the right hand of the Nazgul. Flames run bright along its length.

Witch-king lifts the fiery blade high, while his cold will continues to wash over the olog-hai, all but stifling speech and breath.

Scrag moves back to his knees and says, more to himself than anything "The Eye is the master of the world.." he then closes his eyes as the raw power of the Witch king washes over him and becomes oddly at ease "The Eye is the master of all life and death, master of all he sees" he then gulps and adds "..and I am just his tool." he then waits of the death to take him, knowing that if he fells he will not know the glory of the Eye guul army.

Witch-king laughs again, louder this time, the hard and hollow sound of it echoing down the stairs and into the Tower. He laughs still as the fiery blade falls, sinking easily into the steely scales of the troll's hide with a flash of sorcerous flame.

Scrag lets out a howl of pain and fear as the flames form the Nazgul's blade wash over him, he then falls to the floor and begins to roll and then flames seem to melt his hide form his body as well as his the meat on his body. Soon his body stops moves as even his bones begins to melt.

Witch-king looks to the sky and lets loose a long and shrill scream.

A shrill and high-pitched wail, full of despair and evil, echoes over the area.

Witch-king lifts his deadly blade, finally, as the mighty troll thrashes his last. His hollow voice seems tight with satisfaction. "Slave," he says, startling the orc who still lurks horrified in a corner of the stairs. "Call for the lieutenants of this creature to take him hence. Let his might instruct those who served beside him." The hollow voice takes on a sardonic tone, at the last.

Gutrot scrambles and stumbles in his flight down the stairs.

Gutrot treads carefully down the great stairway.