Mental Shock

Sha-Gruuk closes his eyes for a second as Krinter 'treats' the prisoner. Suddenly he opens them again, a yellow fire seeming to light up his pupils for a short while, only to flicker out again. He smiles with wry amusement, nodding pretty contently to himself.

Sha-Gruuk mouth moves silently for a while, as if saying something to himself, though the words are not audible...

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk comes up the stairs carefully, eyes up for arrows and other not so normal projectiles coming over the walls. He eases over to speak to some of the other officers on duty and to have a look over the land as the first rays of the rising sun warm the sky.

All arrows and catapults are halted, all is quiet among the uruks on the camp below. A small group has gathered around an altar..

Marrg looks at the dawn, disgruntled.

From the battlements, Charystra walks up the stairs quietly

Aracynn lays upon a blood soaked alter, her hands and feet bound to its four corners...she stares straight up at the sky.

From the battlements, In silence, Xatra rises up the stairs to join the warriors in their positions at the battlements. A brief nod to those who is not busy enough to look back, and he strides forth to glance over the field, the east already colored with the streaks of rising sun.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk speaks to the men a little while in a low pitched voice, then flicks his grey eyes over movement at the stairs to see... a woman come up with the Rohir man. THe Sergeant frowns slightly, brows drawing togther.

From the battlements, Xabre stands about halfway on the battlements, staring out sadly, a little blood dripping from a cut on his scalp.

From the battlements, Charystra nods faintly to the Sergeant, her gaze almost brittly cold and her smile is grim

From the battlements, Xatra's face freezes suddenly, as his gaze falls upon the bloodied altar, the too familiar body stretched in blood upon it. Holding himself hard not to yell, he grasps the stone hard, the nails breaking upon his fingers.

As before, the arrows and war machines have all halted. Not even whispers are spoken among the uruks. A small group has gathered around the altar, and a chill wind blows in the air.

Krinter slowly raises the scimitar over his head. He looks down at the human captive with no emotion, no love, no sympathy. "Hear this now: Here before me is a human, a human who's thoughts have been brave. I'd want you to take a moment and give a last thought for this human... let me tell you what these thoughts should be."

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk steps over towards the woman who has come up.. "Excuse me, Lady... but none military personal are not permitted on the battlements lest a Healer is called for."

From the battlements, Xabre looks over. "I'll vouch for her Sgt."

From the battlements, Charystra looks at the Sgt. "I appologise but I shall not leave. " she smiles faintly at Xabre...then turns back to the scene below, her eyes filled with hatred and pain

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk glances at Xabre, "Your vouch matters not at all. Who is she?"

From the battlements, Charystra turns back for a moment, "I am Charystra...bard of Dol Amroth...I ask for your lenience for I once suffered at the hands of the orcs."

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk looks back to the woman, "Unless one of the Lords give you leave to be here, then I will escort you down....whether you wish it or not, Lady."

Aracynn's grey eyes must see the scimitar, yet not a word excapes her lips.

From the battlements, Xatra's lips, still carrying the barely healed scars of his emotion, again yield to the pressure of biting teeth, as they sink in an effort not to cry. His eyes, full of rage, devour the scene as it unfolds.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk says, "Those are our orders, Lady Charystra."

From the battlements, Charystra frowns, turning her back on the Sgt, her face cold as stone. She moves to stand beside Xatra, her presence alone hoping to give some comfort

Krinter continues to speak, his voice loud and crisp among the quietness in the orc camps. A darkness illuminates from him, a dark aura of wrath and hate. He holds the scimitar still over his head as he looks still down at Aracynn, particulary her neck. "Think of this human. This human's stubborn thoughts that made her strong. The thoughts that universally made her a mule."

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk steps near to the woman, dropping his voice.

Marrg smirks.

Aracynn' s eyes continue to stare straight ahead, the only reaction is that a single tear makes its way from the corner of her eye to the bloodied table upon which she rests.

From the battlements, Charystra murmurs softly, "alright Sgt, though I would rather seek my death at their hands than see others tortured.."

The sun rises slowly over the Ephel Duath, casting it glorious light over the green fields of fair Lebennin.

Krinter arches his eyebrow down upon her as he speaks, taking in another breath to continue. "This mule who had refused the power that was offered her. This mule whose stupidity has brought its own death and suffering. This mule who is looked upon as a hero to other tarks like herself. The mule who is in reality but a sniveling worm among many others."

From the battlements, Xatra growls hardly percievably, watching from between the stony teeth of the battlements, his face a mask of love and hatred.

From the battlements, Elbarad climbs the stairs, glancing over the wall he looks at the scene below, helplessly transfixed by the horrid sight he stares, watching. Although he keeps his silence his lips move as he mutters iunder his breath and his hands grasp the stone until his knuckles whiten.

From the battlements, Charystra lays her hand lightly on Xatra's arm, her face a pained masked of understanding and sorrow

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk stands still as stone, "That is your business, Lady, but you will not choose this place for it.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk turns slightly to look below, grim.

Grasskhaguk stands a little away from the altar, holding a steaming bowl of stew in his hands. He watches quietly as Krinter speaks, the corners of his mouth twisted up in a grin for a few moments. Then he takes the bowl to his lips, sipping the liquid for a while. As he puts the bowl down, his face is grim, his eyes burn with a faint reddish light as he turns to look upon the prisoner.

A harder and harsher chill wind blows up from the Uruk camps towards the battlements and then to the altar. It fills Krinter's hood to make him seem even more hollow and emotionless. Hateful and black.

From the battlements, Charystra watches helplessly, her face pained and though her voice is barely audible you still hear her words, "would that I might take her place.....it would end my pain and prevent much sorrow."

From the battlements, Yet a light, no less reddish, now bores through the distance into the orc's face, as Xatra mumbles under his breath, his hands tight in a white-knuckled grip upon the hilt of his sword.

From the battlements, As if for his own support watching, he ddraws Faernos from the sheath on his back, and holds it in front, the tip touching the stone battlements lightly. Another tear follows the first, yet the stubborness that was spoken of earlier by her captor shows itself plain in the coming dawn...not a wimper, not a scream...her eyes open as she watches.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk stands quietly... seeming emotionless, watching without hint of life, simply very still."

Krinter keeps the scimitar in the air and his eyes on Aracynn. "The mule's last moments stand before her. The moments which cannot be changed, the moments that have been brought by the mule's own decision. The decision to leave her life of joy and love. Her life that was destroyed by a simple thought, and a few more actions to conclude them."

From the battlements, Finally speaking louder then he wishes Elbarad says forcefully, "Will we stand here, safe in our walls and watch as all the countryside is offered up on that vile alter?"

From the battlements, Xabre turns towards Elbarad, and smiles. "No sir."

Krinter takes no notice of the voice upon the walls, his hood flapping in the wind.

From the battlements, Charystra looks at Elbarad, her face understanding and taut with anger and pain, slowly her head shakes "no" the words and soft but audible

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk looks at Elbarad, then sighs a breath softly, "Until the Lords decide on a plan of attack.... we are constrained upon these walls, yes."

From the battlements, A tear starts rolling down Xatra's cheek and, caught by a convulsing cheek, shudders.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk glances at the others, but makes no comment.

From the battlements, Charystra gently lays her hand upon Xatra's shoulder, murmuring in a low voice, "you do her no good by crying. Remember her as she was when she was happiest and her spirit will thank you..."

From the battlements, Elbarad turns to Sgt Dunirk, "Then as I said, we will wait here until all of the loyal farmers in Gondor have been sacrificed. Our Lords prefer to sit on their hands and do nothing to save those whose labor clothes them and puts food on their 'noble' tables."

Krinter surely isn't even grinning on the inside or out, his voice giving away all. Not even a frown to counter it. "Now comes the end... take a moment now... to think of this mule in the way I described." He bows his head down for a half minute without saying anything more.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk does not argue what Elbarad says, having no power himself to alter the Lord's orders. He says nothing.

From the battlements, Xatra turns suddenly to the Gondorians, "A plan of attack?! I would go down even if it were to my death. If only a chance to rescue were given. By a rope if needed. If I could find help." From the battlements, Xabre looks at Elbarad. "I am with you."

Krinter still takes no notice of the voices from up high, and takes in a deep breath as he brings the scimitar back...

From the battlements, Xatra appears to be on the point of bursting, anger overwhelming him, "But everyone is only deciding what to do..."

From the battlements, Charystra looks at Xatra, "M'lord I mean no disrespect but dying yourself would not right the wrongs they've commited...nothing will."

Marrg watches, slouched against the wagon, licking his lips.

From the battlements, Elbarad laughs bitterly, "Aye....but you see I am no better then they. Haveing given my oath I will not break it now. Even though I wish now that I had never made such an oath to obey them."

Grasskhaguk grunts to no one in particular, his voice low, "Just kill her and get this over with or let the troops have some fun...", then turns around, looking at the city, his eyes squinting at the first sunbeams.

Aracynn cries out once as her unmoving eyes see the scimitar's descent, "My light! My LOve! My Xatra!"

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk turns away and walks down the stairs, refusing to listen to the others threatening to defy orders they can not act against anyway...nor wishing to see the Mordain torture or kill the young woman. He goes quietly.

From the battlements, Xabre brings up his sword, hilt at hist chest, blade going up past his eyes in salute of the woman below.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk heads down the stairs towards the ground level of the city.

From the battlements, Sgt.Dunirk has left.

From the battlements, Charystra stands looking downwards, rage smoldering in her eyes, as she moves as if to speak, but thinks better of it and falls still

From the battlements, Xatra growls, snapping, "I don't intend to die alone." He turns again to the field, eyesing the altar with imflamed eyes.

Krinter brings his scimitar back as far as it can go while still standing straight at the sky, sending out an incrediblly loud bellow from the depths of his lungs, shouting out a ceaseless yell.

Aracynn cries out once as she sees the descent of the scimitar's deadly blade, "My Light! My Love! My Xatra!" <repose where it should go>

From the battlements, A string vibrates through Xatra's soul, as a desperate cry reaches his ears... "Aracynn, my love! I'm here, with you..." he cannot hold but breathe these words to the wind, descending ind espair to sing it into her ears.

Krinter suddenly sends forth the blade while still shouting out, a quick flash of light. The other uruks seem to be crowding around the altar so the people from above cannot see, but the feeling of death comes about you. THe song of Mordor though it is not physically heard, is rung high into the air.

From the battlements, Xabre catches the faintest peice of Xatra's words. "We are all with you Aracynn." He whispers as well.

From the battlements, Charystra sighs softly, her eyes bitter as she nods in agreement with Xabre.

Aracynn cries out in the last, "XATRA!!!!"

Krinter is now close leaning up to Aracynn's ear, the people from above still not being able to see. His blade did not in fact hit her skin, no, it was stopped right before it could strike her head free of her body. He bellows out still, until he suddenly stops.. and leans closer.. whispering into Aracynn's ears.

From the battlements, Charystra moves to stand near Xabre, watching the scene below with pain, her face pale as snow

From the battlements, Elbarad turns his head as the scimatar descends towards the captives neck.

From the battlements, A roar as that of a lion springs into the air. Xatra, lets the pain rise from his lips, as his face distorts in convulsion, "Aracynn..." his words trail into a sober silence...

<Elendor has a nice feature called +whisper that lets others hear segments of a message you give to someone else in the room. Since you probably weren't there, here's what Krinter said in full:>

Krinter +whispers to Aracynn, "You're dead... Ara is dead. The hooded one did it. He beheaded you. You're no longer alive. Dread. You must be dead. Dread your soul... you're dead... dead... dead...dead...dead...dead..."

From the battlements, Charystra looks at Xabre, speaking very softly

Krinter slowly rises so that the people from above can see his torso. "The mule has gone. Ara is dead. Dread her soul. The mule has died."

Tears stream down Aracynn's face, her eyes once more blank as her mind retreated from reality to save itself in that last horrible momnt, her lips move, mutters, "Dead...dead...dead..."

From the battlements, Xatra shakes himself from a stupor, "YOu will die, beast! Now!" Literally tearing a bow from behind his back, he nocks an arrow swiftly.

Krinter grins down upon the body of Aracynn. "Dead is the mule." He cuts the ropes that tie her down and hurls her over his shoulder, walking towards his tent with no emotion even as the human shouts.

From the battlements, Xatra launches an arrow through the exit heading From the Ground...

Yikes! An arrow!The bowshot hits Gurth, lightly wounding him.

From the battlements, Charystra looks over the battlement, her normally beautiful voice harsh with pain, "You will die you foul beast. Cursed was the day that your mother bore you and did not kill you."

Krinter enters the tent, and returns moments later without the body. He walks rubbing his hands together with still no emotion showing on his face to the altar, where he gets up and stands, glareing at Xatra straight in the eyes from where he stands.

From the battlements, Xatra curses through the tears rolling down over his face, as the arrow strikes not the one he aimed it for..." You will all die, vermin! On the point of my arrow, on the edge of my blade is your death awaiting you!"

From the battlements, Charystra nods softly, "Indeed." she calls out once more, her voice ringing clearly in the air, "You hide behind the darkness and fear the goodness. Would that your kind was scurged from the earth though even that would not be enough to make you pay for your crimes."

Grasskhaguk turns around to face the altar, holding the hilt of his scimitar in his right hand. On his left is the bowl, that he throws back at the cookfire, moving the hand up to pull his surcoat closer. He looks up at Krinter for a while, then shakes his head and turns back to the city, watching the humans upon the battlements.

From the battlements, Xabre says nothing, but raises the sword he had been saluting with high above his head, a threat if nothing else.

From the battlements, Elbarad turns and heads down the stairway, his face grim. Saying nothing he brushes past the grieveing Xatra.

Krinter still says nothing or makes any movements. His glare is unseen under his ringmail hood, excepting to the uruks nearby who might see through the darkness. He watches Xatra with perhaps amusement, though he shows it not on the outside.

From the battlements, Xatra growls, hastily nocking another arrow tight. The light of vengeance is now consuming his face.

From the battlements, Charystra murmurs in a low voice, "M'lord do not waste your weapons on them now. You cannot reach them. Wait for such as time that you may kill them."

From the battlements, Xatra curse, letting another arrow sing the song of his vengeance through the air, then another one... and yet another. Mindless if they can cover the distance, he continues to literally tear the quiver until none are within his immediate reach.

From the battlements, Charystra leans over the battlement, spitting her face pale and grim, "You are not worth my spit ye I would hope to see the day when you are all dead."

The song is heard pounding in each human's mind, burning their soul. THe song of Evil. The song of the Dark Lord. The song of Mordor.

From the battlements, Xabre puts his blade away, and starts back towards the city. "My stomach has turned. I need a drink. (OOC: and must d/c for the nigt)

From the battlements, Charystra stiffens softly, then lays her fingers to the harp strings. Her song rises in the air, filled with defiance. Though fear shows in her face and anger rages, her fingers yet play From the battlements, Xabre heads down the stairs towards the ground level of the city.

From the battlements, Xatra's face hardens, the tears gone at the sounds of a valiant song, as the sounds fly from under the harper's fingers into the crispy morning air.

From the battlements, Charystra raises her voice in song, her voice strong and clear even though the pain in her face, as she tries to drown the evil from hr mind

From the battlements, Mizraim the wanderer mounts the battlements, his walking-staff making small clicking sounds on the cold stone

From the battlements, Mizraim bows his hooded head to the lady, "Milady..."

From the battlements, Charystra rests the harp on the battlements, her fingers lifting the powerful song higher as the strings glint gold in the sun. Her face is cold and hard, defiant

Grasskhaguk spits down at the ground before him, and walks forward, closer to the walls, past the trenches. Taking his hands to his mouth, as in a cup, he shouts, his voice harsh, his mouth open in a broad grin, "Hah, whiteskins, you think you're safe hidden behind your walls? Soon, all of you will have the same fate as the...mule.", he turns to walk away, laughing loudly.

From the battlements, Charystra continues to play though she calls down, "OUr faith alone is stength, we need not to hide behind the darkness and to fear the light of good."

From the battlements, Mizraim shouts over the side, "A Elbereth Gilthoniel!!

Krinter begins to laugh, a cruel, mocking laugh. "You're weakness has been shown to all, and is. Do not try to keep yourself arrogant of the Dark Lord's victory. Keep your souls well." He turns and hops off the altar, walking to his tent.

From the battlements, Xatra roars as a wild beast, his mighty voice covering the distance, "Not before you are dead, filth!"

From the battlements, Mizraim thinks they're awfully eloquent for orcs.

From the battlements, Charystra bares one shoulder showing the cruel dark brand of the eye burned there in, "There is aught which can be done to me which I've not endured. I fear thee not and only pitty you for your weakness and ignorance." her fingers raises the song, soaring it through the air

From the battlements, Xatra nods to Charystra silently, his eyes full of encouragement that her song gives to him. Though pain does stream from their depth. Marrg yells raucously, "Ya hide behind walls instead, ya cowardly tarks."

From the battlements, Mizraim leans back against the parapet and smokes a strange purple powder.

From the battlements, Mizraim shouts...then why do ye shrink from them, foul dung of the earth?

From the battlements, Charystra laughs faintly, the sound filled with mocking, "No need for walls. I'd face you myself for one of us if worth more than all your hides put together."her fingers sly upon the strings, the strong song ringing in the air with the same cold power of her voice

Krinter continues in the tent without another word.

<I have now entered a tent-object>

From outside, From the battlements, Xatra yells again into the air, the unquenchable challenge in his voice, "So, where is your foul champion? Let him come! Come on, show up and fight me. I will kill you if that be my last fight!"

From outside, From the battlements, Charystra drops her fingers from the harp strings at last, her voice ringing in the air, "A woman could beat ye for you are no more than cowards, afraid of your own shadows and worth less than the dirt you stand upon."

<At this point I have now... left... the tent-object>

Krinter walks outside and heads towards the catapults... and dissapears in the trenches.

From the battlements, Charystra pulls her sleeve down once more, covering the cruel brand upon her shoulder

From the battlements, Mizraim notices the brand

From the battlements, Charystra says, "They are cowards....worthless and yet dangerous as any beast is when cornered. Yet I fear them not"

From the battlements, Charystra shrugs faintly, "Their gift to me when i was but 16."

From the battlements, Mizraim digs around in pouches.

From the battlements, Charystra lays her hands to the harp strings once more, her smile grim though the song she plays is filled with strenght and power beyond words, 'no need....tis a reminder to me of what it is I fight against."

From the battlements, Mizraim nods.

From the battlements, Charystra says, "Perhaps once this evil time has passed i will be able tp speak of what happened..if you care to know."

From the battlements, Mizraim says, "perhaps one day, milady" lights up his pipe once again, "Perhaps one day we shall sit and speak at length..."

Traghant emerges from his tent and moves about the field looking for an uruk in the lead

From the battlements, Mizraim offers hand to her, "Mizraim Javanson.

From the battlements, Charystra nods faintly, "Charystra...bard of Dol Amroth. A pleasure though I would that we had met under less evil circumstances."

From the battlements, Xatra appears to have frozen between the impartial teeth of the battlements, long since chiselled in stone.

From the battlements, Charystra sets her harp on the ground and moves on quiet feet to Xatra's side. She lays a cold hand on his arm, "M'lord are you alright....I..."

From the battlements, Mizraim chuckles around pipestem ...

Krinter is later seen walking back in his tent.

From outside, From the battlements, Xatra turns abruptly at the sound of laughter. His eyes pin Mizraim, as if needles of flame. Sighing gravely, presses his teeth, turning away...

From outside, From the battlements, Charystra murmurs softly, "M'lord...I know not your name, yet I know what you feel..tis not easy to deal with but holding the anger against those who fight with you does more harm than good."

From outside, Traghant continues to circle about the camp, offereing assistance to any who appear to need it.

From outside, From the battlements, Mizraim rushes to Xatra's side. "I laughed not at you, m'friend...eaarlier converssation..forgive me.

From the battlements, Mizraim says, "Anything I can do, friend?"From the battlements, Mizraim says, "Hhe's gone."

Grasskhaguk scratches his nose, looking up at the sky, and walks back to his tent.

.Grasskhaguk walks into a large black tent with the mark of Lugbuurz. The uruk guard that stands outside takes a step back and lets him pass.

Traghant moves up to someone who looks like he is in charge

From the battlements, Charystra turns her gaze to the ground below, the sun shining on her hair, her smile bitter and cold as she nods, 'Aye.." she watches Krinter, anger smoldering icy cold in her eyes, "Would that someone might strike that fould one....his life is not worth the blood within him."

Krinter walks out of his tent with two poles in his hands and the body of Aracynn. He pins one of the longer poles up in the ground and then ties the second one horizontal to the first with a leather strap.

Traghant says in Uruk, "Rakarg, what is this all about?"

Krinter grabs Aracynn by the neck and hoists her up on the cross, pinning her wrists around the horizontal pole.

From the battlements, Charystra hisses sharply through her teeth, keeping herself from speaking

From the battlements, Mizraim motions one of the archers to fire down at the orc who strangles the female shape.

Krinter looks towards Traghant and smiles, speaking in the common tongue. "An ornament." He turns and says nothing more, leaving in his tent.

From the battlements, The archer complies cooly.

Aracynn is strapped to the cross, anyone looking close enough might see that her eyes are open, but there is no thought within them...they look like dead orbs of grey.

From the battlements, As if drawn by some vague feeling, Xatra reappears atop the battlements.

From the battlements, Charystra calls down, her voice ringing, "You defile the dead, and yet ye are dead yourself orc. I know not who you are and yet I hope your death will be a cruel one and I hope in the end you see what you truly are."

Krinter leaves in his tent and is unseen for the rest of the day.

From the battlements, Mizraim says, "I can take it no longer."

From the battlements, Charystra mutters softly, "would that I was a man so that I might smite their foul heads from throats as dark as all evil."

From the battlements, Mizraim gets a look of insanity and rage in his eyes.

From the battlements, Mizraim heads to the stairs, not running, but making his way unerringly, nonetheless.

Narthaug steps out of his temple. The wind whips his black cape around him and death makes it's appearacnce. The High Priest of Mordor steps slowly toward the rest of the orcs. His elite gaurds dressed in black cloaks surrounding him

Traghant moves over to narthaug

From the battlements, Charystra shakes her head, "Mizraim..we are forbidden to attack, the lords of the city have ordered it"

Traghant says something unintelligible.

From the battlements, Mizraim speaks coldly, as stone, "I'm not attacking...I'm taking back."