Shelob and Fauthmat

Gulgor enters into the tower, his expression blank as usual. Seeing the officers around, he gives a quick salute and stands respectfully out of the way.

Grishnakh waits quietly in the main hall. Other orcs in view stand apart from the big commander, and there is a tense quiet in the dead air.

Grishnakh looks up toward the stairs as he hears the sound of heavy boots descending. His eyes grow bright, behind a tight smile.

A group of Uruks climb down the stairwell, the prisoner Fauthmat in the lead, followed directly by two large, armed guards. Guthmug walks a step behind the guards, his dark eyes placed warily on Fauthmat's back. The two large guards glance curiously at each other and back at the prisoner as they follow a step behind Fauthmat. Guthmug lightly shoves one of the guards in the back and barks out impatiently, "Faster, The Vorazg awaits!"

Fauthmat's sour face breeds darkness, from his black glittering eyes, to his black liped scowl. He says nothing, he makes no other motion other than to thrust his injured leg forward, keeping up a quick pace. The bare chested Orc keeps his hands balled up into tight fists at his side.

Golg descends into the room.

Golg has arrived.

Fauthmat walks straight through the hall, making no motion to aknowledge the gaurds that stand near him, headed towards Grishnakh.

Grishnakh's smile broadens and becomes more mocking as Fauthmat approaches. "Well, well," he murmurs. "The deadly Fauthmat has appeared at last."

Guthmug hurries his pace to catch up to Fauthmat and walk a short step behind him, his narrowed eyes locked carefully on the prisoner.

Gulgor watches with inward interest as he stands in a corner. A slight sneer curls his lips as his eyes follow the prisoner.

Fauthmat makes no motion, other than his quick hobble forward, his scowl does not leave his face, and his eyes do not stray from Grishnakh's form.

Golg walks over to Grishnakh dragging his feet on the floor, his boots making a scraping sound against the stone. He stops next to the Vorazg and turns to watch Fauthmat with a broad grin of amusement.

Skargash comes into the tower from the courtyard.

Skargash has arrived.

Grishnakh's smile remains wide and mocking, twisting his ugly black features into a grim rictus of cruel humor. He laughs softly. "Ho, no words of defiance now, Fauthmat?"

Gulgor pushes his way forward a little, to get a better view of the unfolding events. He places his large bulk a little just behind the Vorazg, and his ever-present guards.

Skargash walking through the gate looks around then moves to near the vorazg to get a better view.

The pace of Fauthmat's injured shuffle seems to catching up to him, as his broad, naked chest rises and falls with deep ragged breaths. Five feet away from Grishnakh Fauthmat moves as if to halt, pausing, and leaning back slightly. Suddenly he dives forward, a dark object in one hand. Fauthmat swings this object, actually a piece of stone broken off of the wall of his cell and sharpened on it's steel bars, in a downward arc, moving down from where Grishnakh's face is to his neck. The black stone blade cuts the air with a sharp whistle as it descends.

Uglub gasps and involuntarily steps backwards, reaching for his axe.

Guthmug stops a pace behind and to the left of Fauthmat, his left hand on the hilt of the scimitar sheathed at his belt as he intently watches the prisoner. He salutes the Vorazg, and seems about to speak when Fauthmat suddenly dives forward. Guthmug's eyes open widely in shock, and he throws himself shoulder first at the prisoner, attempting to knock him down by sheer weight before his attack can reach the Vorazg.

Grishnakh's smiling lips twist into a snarl at Fauthmat's sudden violence. But it was not unexpected, and the Vorazg is deadly fast: he slips down a bit, his left claw jutting out to catch and partially shove aside Fauthmat's whipping hand. The stone leaves a trail of black blood as it cuts into the flesh of Vorazg's forehead and the flesh of his hand, but then his hand closes on Fauthmat's wrist, and in the other a knife appears with a sudden motion.

Fauthmat, not intending his attack to be one that he would recover from falls upon the stone floor, his crippled leg giving out beneath him. Landing solidly upon the cold grey floor with Guthmug on top of him, Fauthmat grunts.

Gulgor grunts, and moving more quickly than his size would seem to allow, begins pushing through the remaining uruks between him and the combatants.

Grishnakh hauls the arm back despite Fauthmat's fall, twisting it up away from the prisoner painfully.

Fauthmat pants, looking up along his scared, and recently cut and bruised arm to where Grishnakh clutches his wrist. His scowl is gone, replaced by a fang filled smile.

Grishnakh leans down, with a sudden violent motion. His knife is guided by an expert hand. Within scant seconds, Fauthmat's left eye is a bloody ruin.

Uglub glares at a pack of Ashjacki dogs around him and they recover from their shock enough to begin moving. Quickly they surround the scuffle with blades ready and look for holds on the prisoner.

Fauthmat lets out a ringing cry of pain, however his face is still twisted into a smile through the fingers of pain that posess his body, more of a rictus snarl than a true smile, it remains upon his face, an expression of defiance.

Guthmug snarls angrily, his lips twisting as he pushes himself off of Fauthmat. He rises to his feet, making sure to keep one booted foot pressing down on Fauthmat's back as he glances up at the Vorazg. Nervously, he says, "Forgive me, Vorazg. I was not quick enough to stop his attack..."

Golg takes a step forward to react against Fauthmat's move, but stops as he notices Grishnakh's quick actions, and settles back by his side, aiming a scornful gaze at the soon to be executed orc.

Grishnakh releases Fauthmat's arm with a shove, and steps back. He wipes a bit of black blood from his forehead, and nods to Guthmug. "Pick him up, and try not to be so sloppy." The bloody knife is still in his hand.

Fauthmat's eye oozes black blood, flowing down across his scared cheeks and into his mouth, staining his yellowed fangs. A halting chuckle, much like something that would be heard from an insane creature, rises and falls in Fauthmat's chest.

Skargash gazes at the bloody figure of fauthmat lips curling into a slight grin...making no movement to intervene, leaving those around him to their fun...

Grishnakh looks around at the other orcs. "The rest of you! Form up around the prisoner, and follow me."

Guthmug motions to two of the URuks nearby (Uglub and Gulgor) to help him pick up the prisoner, before removing his boot from Fauthmat's back. He bends down and tightly grips Fauth's right arm, twisting it upwards to pull up the fallen Uruk.

Gulgor stands by with his large fists clenched like small mallets, his chest heaving with adrenaline and the need to release violent urges.

Uglub pushes one of the Dogs aside and kicks Fauthmat in the side. Hefting his axe on his shoulder, he turns and grins at Grishnakh. "They'll have to be faster than that to best the Terrible Vorazg!" he croons. He nods around him as if he has shared a joke with Grishnakh.

Fauthmat is lifted to his feet as he heaves a glob of black spittle, thick with his blood at Grishnakh's retreating form. "There are my words," the broad shouldered Orc rasps, "snaga!"

Uglub helps lift Fauthmat, with an obedient quick bow to Guthmug.

Gulgor bends down, to grab the prisoners other arm and violently heft him up. He grunts, as if holding the greatest fool inthe world, but makes no other comment except to wait, holding the prisoner in an iron grip, for further orders.

Grishnakh chuckles and wipes the foul blood from his knife, then turns toward the Under-Gate.

The Under Gate is barred shut.

The guards grumble, and open the gates for Grishnakh.

Grishnakh says, "Open up!"

Golg turns, his fingers still tense as they wrap around the standard of Mordor in his hands, and moves after the Vorazg, casting only a glance at Fauthmat as he walks away.

Grishnakh says, "Through the Under Gate, lads!"

You press through the brazen gate and into the stifling dark...

Climbing Passage

The well-trodden passage becomes straighter here, and a bit smoother, as it rises into a distinct climb from the hellish tunnels of Torech Ungol to its upper end at a tall brazen gate. Surely this part of the black and stifling tunnels was crafted by strong hands, but what creatures would work so close to the haunts of the Spider... and what sort of masters would make them?

Obvious exits:
Under Gate and Winding Passage

You hear noises as the gates are closed from the inside.

Guthmug trudges quickly along, turning to Uglub and motioning for him to take the prisoner's arm.

Uglub slides his axe into its loop and takes Fauthmat's arm.

Grishnakh looks around warily as he enters the tunnels. The air, dead in Cirith Ungol and over the barren rocks outside, is worse, here. It is thick and close, and bears an ancient stench that no winds will ever come to drive out.

Gulgor walks down beside the prisoner, a white-knuckled grip on his arm and with a blank, grim determination set on his face...

Fauthmat no longer bothers to walk, instead allowing himself to be dragged along by those gripping his arms. His head lolls slightly, and his face is a mess of wet sticky blood, flowing down into his wide maniacal grin.

Guthmug stares disgustedly at Fauthmat's back as he walks, his left hand gripping the hilt of his scimitar tightly.

Grishnakh lopes along again after a moment, his broad form swaying with each step as he moves further into the tunnels.

Golg fingers the shaft of the standard nervously as his eyes look around and his nostrils take in the oppressive smell of the tunnel.

You pass a wide stone block which might ordinarily block the tunnel, but now it has been pushed aside to allow you to pass.

Winding Passage

The dead air is stifling, warm and nauseating, and your being is filled with a sense of creeping doom as you stumble along this twisting, turning passage of rough stone. Occasionally something wispy brushes your hand or face... The tunnel descends to the depths of Torech Ungol, and climbs to an archway which has been blocked off by a door of stone.

Obvious exits: Climbing Passage and Torech Ungol

Uglub's pace slows and he looks about him quickly, unceasingly. His hand whips up and wipes something off of his neck, as he grunts in a high pitch. His wide staring eyes dart this way and that, fearful of what the darkness holds.

Grishnakh looks about in disgust as he moves further into the depths. "Keep up," he murmurs, "We'll get there soon enough."

Golg follows the Vorazg in a cautious, slow pace, using the standard to probe at the ground before his feet.

Fauthmat croaks, his rough voice amplified by the dark walls of the tunnel, "That's right snaga, you move, hop, jump, leap to the words of the Vorazg." He descends into more low chuckling before he yells out, "Snaga! All of you. And him," he nods his head towards Grishnakh, "the worst of them all, bowing and scraping to them shiriekers." Fauthmat laughs, a sound of vengance, release and fear all mixed into one.

Gulgor walks with his eyes straight ahead. He shows know sign of nervousness or fear, just a simple acceptance of his where-about, and a determination to do his orders.

Gulgor grunts and shakes the prisoner at his words. In a deep rumble he growls, "Be silent fool. All hail the Vorazg."

Grishnakh glances back in irritation, but says nothing. He only moves further into the black darkness.

Skargash walks silently gazing ahead at the uruks carrying the prisoner, and occasionally behind him or to the side constantly searching for any one of the unknown logaz looking for a quick promotion....

Fauthmat descends into gales of laughter at Gulgor's words.

Something wispy drifts across your hand as you make your way down into the darkest, foulest tunnels.

Guthmug glances curiously around at his surroundings, his lisp twisting in disgust. Drawing his scimitar, he strikes Fauthmat in the back of his right shoulder with the rounded pommel at the end of hilt and growls, "Silence, worm!"

A grunt interupts Fauthmat's laughter as Guthmug's scimitar strikes him soundly. Soon Fauthmat's laughter continues, however.

Uglub stops for a moment and whimpers to himself, then is tugged along by the procession carrying Fauthmat. He stares straight ahead now, and his feet move mechanincally.

Grishnakh pauses for a moment, craning his head to listen. Then he shakes his head... "Only a little further," he mutters. "Then we'll be rid of the fool and his noise."

Torech Ungol

The air here is still, stagnant, heavy, and all sounds fall dead. It is as if you are in a black vapour wrought of veritable darkness itself that, as it is breathed, brings blindness not only to the eyes but to the mind, so that even the memory of colours and of forms and of any light fades out of thought...Here, night always had been, and always will be--night is all. You can grope along the walls and explore further into the cave. Try a direction...

Obvious exits:
West and Out

Fauthmat howls, "Ho ho! Noise is it! That's what you want them to think isnt it? Dont want them to know how you lick the boots of them shriekers, do you?"

Grishnakh moves on, slower now, with obvious caution.

Golg takes a few steps back from Grishnakh, moving closer to Fauthmat, and, releasing a low growl, "Shut up now, fool.", swings the butt of the heavy standard of Mordor across the orc's chin.

Kech frowns as he looks over at his former Ashjaki commander. Now a prisoner on his way to face death.

Torech Ungol

You can see absolutly nothing and your nostrils are filled with the most putrid odor you've ever encountered. The walls seems to be rather smooth, but there are breaks in the wall seemingly every few feet. You try to approximate the width of this tunnel, but all you can tell is that it's much wider than your armspan. Walk carefully, and if you are courageous enough to go on, choose another direction.

Obvious exits:
Back and West

Fauthmat lets out a windy grunt as Gulgor's fist strikes his stomach soundly. After a few moments spent gasping for air Fauthmat begins to laugh quietly, more tinged with fear now.

Grishnakh advances a little further into one of the passages, then stops.

Fauthmat's laugter is inturpted by Golg's standard striking him across the chin. Fauthmat shakes his head once before he continues his low, nervous laughter.

Uglub laughs quietly to himself, stopping now and then to sniff at the air. He mumbles incoherently.

Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of danger is bent upon the orcs, a sense of near-tangible malice and hunger.

Grishnakh steps back, and motions to the orcs. "Now. Bring him."

Gulgor stands completely still...almost too still. His breathing quickens, and with slow ponderous steps, he forces himself to step towards the Vorazg, dragging Fauthmat with him.

Grishnakh looks back into the other passage, then quickly back at the orcs, growing angry with even a second's delay.

Guthmug glances around uneasily and pushes Fauthmat forward, his brow furrowing in fear and suspicion. "Move it, rat..." He rasps out, and starts towards the Vorazg.

Fauthmat's laughter begins to subside, coming in hisses from his nose now. The bloodied Orc's single eye looks wildly towards the cavern roof.

Skargash hearing the vorazg's command and seeing the hesitance of the uruks in front of him scowls and says, "Gah, Snaga move" and draws his blade prodding at the ones in the back ranks.

Grishnakh brings his sword up out of its scabbard as Fauthmat is pushed forward.

Skargash slides a black blade from it's sheathe.

Uglub looks into the darkness and then back at Guthmug with wild fear. "What? We push him in, right?" He stands rooted.

Gulgor pulls on Fauthmat, even as the other side is held still by Uglub, turning his head, he rumbles, "The Vorazg order, move..." He continues tugging at the prisoner...

Skargash after he has cleared himself a path through the rear group of uruks moves forward to get a closer look at the Prisoner.

Grishnakh reaches out to grasp Fauthmat and haul him forward, growling with impatience and anger.

Fauthmat resists, locking his good leg upon the ground beneath him and attempting to free his arms from his captors. He is easily overcome and thrust forward into the waiting darkness.

Uglub does not loose his hold on Fauthmat, and is half-dragged with him. He mumbles to himself and squeaks at Grishnakh "We can shove him in from here, right Vorazg?"

Guthmug shoves Fauthmat forward, helping the Vorazg bring the prisoner into the darkness beyond. He kicks out with his booted right foot to shove Fauthmat along faster into waiting darkness.

Grishnakh snarls as Fauthmat slips from his grasp. Unconsciously he wipes his sweaty claw on his breeches, then shoves the orcs back up the tunnel. "All right, let's go. He's done."

Golg stands close to the wall, almost hugging it, in fact. The standard it held tight before him, as if to ward off any danger that would lurk in the darkness. His eyes glow faint red, wide as they follow the happenings taking place.

Gulgor nods at Grishnakh's new order, and turns, unhesitantly to complete it.

Uglub shoves Fauthmat into the darkness aand retreats, pulling his axe from it's binding.

Guthmug raises his arm in salute and hastily starts back through the tunnel, his expression of obvious relief as he leaves the darkness.

Fauthmat lands upon his chest on the gravely floor of the cavern, making a rough scraping sound before remaining still for a few moments. Pressing his hands into the stone he lifts himself up to his knees and attempts to see through the darkness. There is nothing, there is only dark, pressing in upon him, surrounding and engulfing him. With a grunt Fauthmat rises up on his good leg. Taking several stumbling steps forward, he crashes into a rough stone wall, bracing one arm against it. The bare chested Orc then runs the heel of his clawed hand over the bloody mass that was previously his left eye. In a daze Fauthmat shakes his head and attempts to look around, trying to gauge where the exit to this place is.

The darkness is blacker than ever, since the orcs departed with their meager lamplight. The air is still and dead, stifling, warm, with a horrible pungeance. A thick, light wisp of stickiness rubs along Fauthmat's shoulder as he moves.

Fauthmat's chest rises and falls slightly as he stands pressed against the cavern wall. The bloodied creature lets out a small hiss of fear and loathing as something touches his shoulder. Quickly his bloodied hand flies back behind him, and pulls at the sticky substance. A fetid gust of wind passes over his face and he begins to follow it's direction, one hand upon the cavern wall as he limps along.

Something creaks slightly in the darkness. It may be nearby, or quite distant. In the dead air, the sound is impossible to place.

Fauthmat's neck whips around, trying to place the noise in the darkness. He looks for too long, sudenly his foot strikes a rough rise of rock crossing the dark cavern floor and he is sent sprawing upon the floor. He manages to turn over as he falls, landing upon his back.

Fauthmat's sudden fall draws a strange response. The creaking sound pauses, but is followed by a long, low hiss. This time, unmistakeably, it is ahead of the orc.

Fauthmat scrambles, turning onto his side, and clawing at the wall of the cavern beside him. Slowly the Orc pulls himself to his feet. The bare chested Orc's one eye peers into the darkness as he begins to back away from the hissing sound in the darkness before him, his hand trailing along the cavern wall. A long red snake of a tounge slips out between his sharpened fangs to dance over his black lips.

As Fauthmat rises and moves again, the hissing subsides. There is a slight noise again, a creaking perhaps nearby, but then all noise is seemingly drowned as a terrible malice assaults the orc's senses, a horrid will urging him to terror.

Fauthmat's breath rises and falls quickly in his heavy chest, near to panick. He takes several steps backwards, his injured leg draging behind him. Suddenly the Orc turns and attempts to run, his hobbled leg hindering his progress.

Then the air is still again, and the sense of domineering horror fades, some, leaving the orc to his own devices. There is no noise, no creaking, nothing but a bloodied orc and his fear.

Fauthmat stumbles forward, crashing through the darkness.

Something moves, after a time, ahead of Fauthmat. There is no telling how far he has stumbled along in the blackness, perhaps seconds or minutes. Then his sliding, wounded foot catches on something, something that clings irresistably near to the ground.

Fauthmat flies forward, his right shoulder striking the hard stone floor, and his injured leg stretched out behind him. The Orc, bloody, confused and possesed of an unholy fear that causes his black heart to leap inside his chest turns and begins tuging at his leg with his hands, attempting to pull it away from whatever binds it while at the same time attempting to bring his good leg up underneath him.

As the orc looks blindly up and around, something appears in the impenetrable blackness. Very close by, only feet away, the blackness is lit by a putrid glow. Then the glow MOVES, swaying quickly as if borne upon the underside of a massive bladder. And it comes only closer to Fauthmat.

Fauthmat's panic rises to a new crescendo as he lets out a sharp wail of utter despiration, echoing through the black cavern. Attempting to pull himself free of the spider's web Fauthmat lunges forward.

The swaying, disgusting glow stops suddenly in its advance, and lowers nearer to the ground, still out of reach of the struggling orc. Fauthmat's eyes, long in the darkness, have adjusted some, and the hideous glow gives enough light for him to catch worse glimpses. Nearer to him, at the head of the bladder, no doubt, the dim putrid light glints off of a dozen gleaming surfaces.

A low, bubbling hiss greets the orc, seeming deafening in the stillness of the tunnel.

Fauthmat is held fast, and he flops over onto his back, his ankle turning at a disgusting angle. Paralyzed with fear Fauthmat's single glittering eye looks at the horny skinned monstrosity that stands before him, a spider, of such size and evil will that has not been seen since the Elder Days, and surely it's equall will never be again.

With a creaking of bone and leathery flesh, a leg moves forward, then another, then many more. Quick, sure steps bring Shelob nearer to her prey.

Fauthmat is startled into action, tuging wildly as he attempts to pull himself away, bloodying the palms of his hands upon the stone floor.

Now the Spider looms over Fauthmat, the steely hairs of her legs easily within reach. Her mandibles part, and again she utters a bubbling hiss. Venom drips slowly onto Fauthmat's bare black flesh.

Fauthmat's back arches, his chest thrust upwards as his good leg is propped up beneath him and he pushes back, still trying to rip himself away from the spider's web.

Fauthmat colapses beneath the huge, shadowy form, the pale reek eminating from it's belly overwhelming the Orc. Slowly his head shakes back and forth, but strugle seems to have left the creature completely.

There seems to be a hellish light of ancient hunger in the many eyes of the monster. Shelob's bulk belies her speed, and now Fauthmat's flesh has been pierced, his throat jabbed with a sudden sting. The wound drips with slavering venom.

A long slimy strand of vemon sinks from the vile creatures jaws onto Fauthmat's neck with a slight sizzle. Suddenly the Orc rouses itself, one hand clenched into a fist, and beating hollowly upon the spider's hard hide. And then the bite. Viscious poison enter's Fauthmat's bloodstream and the Orc rises, as if impaled upon a sharp stake, his chest upthrust, and his arms and legs twitching at his sides. The crippled Orc's hand is still poised beside Shelob's head, as if to strike another ineffective blow upon it. Slowly Fauthmat's body begins to relax, he crumples slowly to the floor, his fist opening up, and his thick black claws sliding down the side of Shelob's head with a rough scrape.

The back of Fauthmat's hand falls to the floor, and he is still. He moves no more, and his breathing becomes shallow.

Shelob moves over the poisoned orc, and as he relaxes he senses thick, light, sticky, and unbreakable strands drifting across him. Thick as ropes, they sweep over him, and then, horribly, he realizes that Shelob's forelegs are lifting him up, turning him, wrapping him in a sheath of her webbing. It is the last thing that he senses for a long while.