Sanctification
Mirkwood
The view is blocked in all directions by towering dark trunks, holding heavy and crooked boughs hight above the ground. The strange ancient forest seems to draw more and more strenght from you as you travel deeper. Beneath you feets the forestbottom is muddy and cold and around you the twilight autumn air is sharp.
The fragile circle of your light seems to fade and thin in the darkness of the wood. To the west is a small gap between the bushes and a well used trail lies towards the towering trees, southwest of you.
It is raining. You can hear the raindrops fall all around you and you are soon drenched. The rain sprinkles down slowly making the ground muddy.
Contents:
Klen
Lok'Mod
Boneclaw
Indur
Rakerath
Naraki
Ckthyssa
Bear Platoon
Gurgarath
Yark
Buurz
Dred
Beijabar Shrine
Obvious exits:
West, East, NorthWest, and SouthWest
Rakerath continues as he calls out to those about, "You have all worked to bring a great and memorable victory to Our Master. A victory which could not have been completed without the help of or allies. As we corrupt this Shrine the victory will be complete. Celebrate, and call out to the Master we all serve. For this day is TRULY HIS!"
Ckthyssa's attention seems pulled away briefly from the old high shamen by Naraki's words. She glances briefly to Klen.
Yark backs away from Rakerath, an awed expression on his face. The small Orc backs into Lok'mod. Hissing slightly, the Orc twists and turns to avoid further contact, as he continues in his awed retreat.
Indur nods, once, slowly, faceless hood faising as if to regard the speaker.
Dred nods as the shaman begins to speek, then looks to woods and watches very carefully for movement..and know that if anything will happen..it will be his head. With care and keeps is sight split on the crowd and the woods..
One man, who stands next to his wife, looks to Rakerath and shouts, "Why do you do this to us? What reason do you have?"
Lok'Mod stands his ground as the uruk bounces off, slightly annoyed while trying to take in the entire scene but being limited by the low light..
Klen's figure slowly erodes into the darkness of the Mirkwood forests.. until he can no longer be depicted among the others near the shrine.
Rakerath turns back to the prisoners and calls out to the Uruk-Hai's bearing them, "Come forth and bring the prisoners. Tie them to the pillars of the Shrine, with there blood the power of this place will be ours!"
Gurgarath seems to take no notice of the Shaman or those that come with him. Waiting patiently at his post, the towering creature stands rock solid, bloodshot eyes gazing intently into the darkened woods.
Suddenly, and in response to the words of Rakerath, a chorus of chilling howls rises from the darkness of the forest.
Hands and legs are bound by rough hands and rougher hearts that bind the cords with little mercy. Some of the humans are beaten as they maon or complain in one last desperate hope. Some seem to slump as if already dead by fright or thier physically broken bodies.
Ckthyssa's eyes shine from her smooth and strangely innocent face. Her lips move in a raptured prayer.
Invar emerges through the forest from the south west.
Invar has arrived.
Gaurgor howls, one long and bitter note resounding with dozens of others. Only slowly do the howls of wolves and wargs fade into the forested night.
Rakerath watches as the prisoners are brought forth and tied to the pillars a grim smile upon his face of pure evil and hatred. He watches with enthusiams as the prisoners are beat and bound to the Pillars. He then turns forth to Lok"mod and calls out to him, "Will you come forth and join me?
Buurz slinks through the woods along the perimiter, paying little if any attention to the ceremony, but focused on his duty.
Easterlings keep coming from the camp as word spreads of the ceremony..
Indur raises its hooded head and sniffs, once, then lowers it and continues to watch.
Many of those late Rhun arrivals are stoped and looked over by the uruk in the woods and along the path. They are eventually alowed passage, but hissed at for thier untimelyness.
Lok'Mod squints in the night and cannot figure out who the preist is refering to...
Lok'Mod speaks inlow tones to Ckthyssa..
Naraki has partially disconnected.
One man kicks and flails as an Uruk ties him to a pillar with several other humans, in a desperate attempt to flee for his own life, he grabs for one of the Uruch weapons.
Rakerath looks right at Lok'Mod and calls again, "You warrior of the Easterlings. Will you join me?"
Ckthyssa follow the old one's gaze and smiles at Lok'Mod. She nods to the fore of the temple.
Lok'Mod looks about for a momment then speaks loudly to cross the distance in the night air,'Do you speak to me Priest?
Invar forces his way into the middle of a small crowd of Easterlings, after finally making his way past the perimeter guard.
Rakerath grins wickedly and calls out in his deep voice, "Yes you. I have seen you battle or foes, and have been impressed by your skill. Come forth and tell all these present who you are."
Thye kicking and faliing man is quickly lept upon, claws and tusks bit his flesh in wicked glee and enforcement of obidiance. Pummling fists accentuated the obidence lesson.
Lok'Mod nods to the uruk and smiles at Ckthyssa with confidence, making his way through the crowd towards where the priest stands, turning back to the crowd he speaks loudly again,"I am Lok'Mod, Clan Kiltosh!
The man screams as he is ripped appart by the teaching hands of the Orcs, the rest of thehuman seem to keep quiet, learning from the mans mistakes.
Of the Easterlings gathered a low quick cheer is heard in response to the man's statement..
The lesson learned, the student's entrails stretched along the pillars by an uruk with an astetic Gaurgor and many other wolves lope nearer to the crowds, ears pricking up and eyes and fangs gleaming savagely at the cries of the victims being torn apart.
Rakerath grins and nods to Lok'Mod, "Very well Lok'Mod of Clan Kiltosh I ask you, though you are not a priest, to help in the killing of these that would oppose us. As a gift for your fighting skill, and as a token of Mordor's Allyship with the Easterlings."
Ckthyssa's voice rises with the others, shaking a fist in salute.
Lok'Mod nods to the uruk and speaks,'It is honorable that you would honor me so, for my clan and tribe.
Bear Platoon
This is a group of some 30 or so uruk, they are all adorned in various bits of armour ranging from leather to chain. Very few of them have bows, whereas the rest carry scimitars or axes, cudgels, flails and other heavy battle gear. Emblazoned on thier chests is a wolf's head done in back and grey, the eyes being of a dark red. Upon thier backs a Bear claw, palm down and claws up, also decorates them. Some have on their sholders links of thin chain, looking like rank insignia of some sort or another.
Though still quite urukish in thier behavior and mannerisims, they seem to get along well enough, perhaps due to thier sergeants iron fist inside a velvet glove.
One woman cries and screams miserably, seeing the bloody beaten body of her son tied onto the pillar beside her.
Rakerath nods and turns back to those that are gathered, "Then let us begin, call out to The Eye!! Praise him and all his works, and pray to him. Let's shake the foundations of this place and make it a sign TO ALL THAT OPPOSE US!
Some of the uruk begin a chant and a rythmic beating of hands on thigh, and sticks on trees, an ancient song passed down amny generations. The chant is in no way melodic, but the rythm pulses and is true, hypnotic in its own way through movements and variations and improvisations. It continues and reaches deep into the forest as it is taken up by groups of uruk no wear near the area. The night is filled with this soft but constant sound.
Gurgarath is oblivious to the ceremony, the Elder Orc Rakerath, the prisoners, Lok'mod of the clan Kiltosh, shouting easterlings, howling Wargs, and throngs of Orcs. Words and actions, shouts and profane deeds meet with a turned back. To Gurgarath there is only the shadowed forest, and the enemies that it could contain.
Ckthyssa's black eyes are wide in awe that such could come from the like of uruks. She ghosts through the crowd, touching none, but slipping by like a shadow. Reaching a place clear of obstructions to the sight, she sinks down on her knees. Her slender body, sways like a willow in a breeze, catching the tempo.
Buurz moves along his perimiter, he curses silently at all the racket that slowly fills the forst, making his task all the more troublesome.
The Easterlings chant in response to the call, words to the Dark Master..
Rakerath nods as the chanting begins and slowly walks down the pedestal to the first kicking and screaming human tied to the pole. He reaches upon his belt and pulls out a dagger of the most exquisite design. The sacrificial dagger, Dragon Tooth
Rakerath slips a finely crafted dagger from its sheath.
Indur bows its head, hands lost in the folds of sleeves, looming like an angel of death from its vantage point.
Rakerath looks to Lok'mod and motions him down beside him, "Come stand beside me as I make my prayers. I will kill this one and show you how, and then you can finish the next one."
Yark howls at the sight of the dagger, exposing a mouth full of rotten fangs.
The man who Rakerath stands in front of looks to the dagger, and goes white. His eyes widen as the dagger is unsheathed.
Lok'Mod nods to the uruk and moves over to where indicated..
The uruk rythm responds to the Easterling chant, a discophony of rythm it seems at first, but the careful observer will notice the almost accidental syncopations, a diachotomy more ancient than any here would notice, but prevails as the ancient pay between good and evil is given form in this ceremony.
Rakerath closes his eyes and lowers his head. He clenches the dagger tightly in his hand and then begins to speak. He speaks in words so cold that they seem to bear there on life, and live of the night air, " Yark clambers forward, pressing himself up against the backs of Orcs that stand before him, desperately trying to get a view over the throngs that separate him from the sacrificial rite.
Gaurgor paces slowly around the gathering, his eyes occasionally flashing with reflected firelight. The great warg tastes the air, his long tongue lolling over deadly fangs, and his thick dark fur bristles with the brutal tension of the ceremonies.
Invar continues to work his way up to the front of one of the groups of Easterlings, his small stature making it hard to see.
Indur tilts its head, thoughtfully, regarding the orcs gathered with a sudden interest.
Nassani steps into the circle of Wooden posts, the Beijabar Shrine.
Rakerath raises his dagger as he is lost in a prayer-chant repeating the same words over and over in the dark language of Morbeth. His chant builds to a crescendo and mixes with the chanting going on and at the climax of it when evil seems most prevelant and in the flesh. He takes the dagger and slides it across the humans stomach slowly and painfully hearing the rip of the flesh with a thrill going through his body. . .
Ckthyssa sways on her knees, her thin voice rising with the rest of the voices. She beats on her thighs.
A blood curdling scream is heard from the man as the dagger sinks in to his stomach and continues through. Yet it stops, and is blocked by the blood which starts to sputter out of the mouth of the man as his head drops. A small crimson stream pours from the mans mouth, and his body sags slightly. His entrails spill out onto the floor, and a pool of the mans blood forms upon the ground.
The chant and ryhtms rise and fall in a crazy array, spaning eons from the begining to the present. Through no design of thier own, the rhytms and chants fall pattern to something much much older than themselves.
Overbearing fear assaults you as you realize something is watching you, and you feel a strong urge to flee.
The dark shadow moves hidden under old and huge trees around..
Invar looks down at the ground suddenly, his movement completely stpping.
Lok'Mod watches standing near where the preist had just sacrificed a man, awaiting his turn to honor the dark master
You feel an evil presence nearby, perhaps watching you.
Rakerath is about to hand Lok'Mod the dagger when a cold fear assails him and he suddenly falls upon his knees. A halt to the ceremony and sweat begins to roll down his face and he sinks to the ground like a beaten dog. . .
Ckthyssa tosses her head, eyes flickering with something. Her black braids glitter in the faint light, feathers fluttering. She keeps the strange beat, though her swaying becomes stiff.
Gurgarath straightens slightly, but does not turn around, standing still, facing the woods, and remaining alert.
The dark shadow suddenly moves toward Eleder Orc who is standing next to a tall human and then the shadow stops..
Nassani shudders, closing her eyes tightly, her breathing shallow.
You feel an evil presence nearby, perhaps watching you.
Boneclaw has disconnected.
Buurz not in the circle, but some 50 to 60 yards away from it, notices the deepening gloom towards the shrine, a creature of darkness though he is, he is glad to have this removed duty in the safe not now so gloomy wood by comparison.
Lok'Mod's eyes go wide and he grasps his scimitar hilt at the panic he feels being in the dark one's presence..
Yark trembles, and shrinks into himself, no longer looking over the backs of his fellow Orcs. The scrawny Orc takes several steps backwards.
Akhorahil 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.
Akhorahil gathers his robes about him and becomes plainly visible.
Akhorahil has arrived.
Indur nods to the figure which appears, in recognition and welcome.
Together with a terrible shriek the shadow transforms into a dark figure with a redly gleaming gems instead of eyes..
Nassani falls to the ground, her knees hitting with an audible thump.
Rakerath 's very blood chills as the wail that echoes through the forest like some banshee from the black abyss. His body goes numb and all he can do is grovel at the ground toward the figure that is blacker then the blackest night. Sweat, cold sweat, now pours unheaded down his body
Lok'Mod leans down to one knee, quietly saying,'M'lord..
Akhorahil looks around slowly and then his gaze stops on a face of human standing next to Elder uruk...
Zenzzi emerges through the forest from the south west.
Zenzzi has arrived.
Akhorahil for one second turns his head toward one of his brethens who is sstanding not far from him, but says nothing
Akhorahil raises his hand slowly toward Elder Uruk and points at the dagger which he has been giving to human..
The uruk doing the chanting and making odf rythm stop abruptly at the shirll scream. The sound of the continuing beating upon trees and hollow logs still creaps in the distance of the forest.
Akhorahil hisses silently, but his cold voice echoes in heads of everyone and nazgul's words burns in your minds...'Wait, Sssharkuun!'
Rakerath sees the motion of the black figure and turns the dagger to face Akhorahil pummel first. His hands are barely able to do that. Then as the Nazgul tells him to wait he stops and says in a small voice, "Yes master."
When the nazgul makes himself plainly visible, the Easterlings as a group go down on one knee in respect of the minor god..
Ckthyssa stretches her body out against the earth. Her voice, reedy with fear still softly whispers chants into the loam. Her slim shoulders shake and finally fall silent at the speech of the Master's darkest servants.
Akhorahil shifts his gaze on a human next to Elder Uruk (Lok'Mod) and hisses at him..'..'It hasss beeen sssome time sssince our lasst meeting'
Lyra emerges through the forest from the south west.
Lyra has arrived.
Nassani shudders at the words, her hands reaching for the ground, head hanging low, not daring to look up.
Even the presance of two Nazgul is not enough to turn an Olog-hai from it's duty. Gurgarath stands like a statue upon the southwest corner of the clearing, hammer and buckler in hand, piercing the surrounding shadows with his ceaseless watch. The fact that he now stands taller, and his movements are more crisp is the only thing to attest to his awareness of the situation.
Akhorahil does not bother to wait for the response of human and wants to continue in his hissing..
Lok'Mod merely nods his head bowed to the words..
Zenzzi walks into the area where a group is and she stops then she sees them. She stops to find out what is going on and she stays silent as she watches.
Yark wimpers, cowering, covering his head with hands and forearms. This is obviously too much for the little Orc.
Lyra stays quiet and kneels down next to Zenzzi
Akhorahil takes another look at the group of human warriors standing in background and then again moves his attention to human in front of him...'What isss your name, Human?'
The chanting and tree beating still continue off in the distance all around the area, slowly the sound creeps louder and louder as uruk closer to the ceremony taek up the ancient rhytm once again.
Akhorahil hisses also to Rakerath..'You do not bother to introduce thisss human to me, Sssharkuun?'
Lok'Mod keeps his head down, but speaks loudly though his voice is unsure, sounding panicy,"I am Lok'Mod, my lord, Kiltosh Clan..
Rakerath dares not move or do anything under the ever watchful presence of the Nazgul. His body shivers, yet he tries to keep it from doing so failing miserably. His teeth clatter and then as the Nine speaks to him he says in an appologetic voice, "This is Lok'Mod of Clan Kiltosh master. He has been a great allie to our great master."
Akhorahil looks at Lok'Mod as he speaks and nods slowly, hissing..'Oh...ssso you are the one who led warriorsss of Rhun to thisss place to help to The EYE?'
Lok'Mod shakes his head,'Nay my lord, I am but one warrior, our cheiftains lead..
Nassani opens her eyes slowly and swallows, her body tense.
Akhorahil watches Lok'Mod with some interest and then notices bodies of human prisoners, prepared to be tortured and killed...
Akhorahil nods slowly to Lok'Mod's words and then starts to speak again, but his voice is now little bit more angry...'When I wasss in your city, I did ssspeak with sssomeone, who talked like a chieftan....Where isss that human?'
Zenzzi notices that of one of the great spirits is here and she slowly goes down to her knees right where she is a ways for the activity because she doesn't want to get in the way.
Akhorahil looks again at crowd of humans and hisses loudly...'Who of you is chieftan!?? Who of you isss leader!? Who of you rulesss here!?'
Lok'Mod says, "My cheiftain is here, and the high shamen my lord.."
Nassani raises up her head and speaks in a shaky voice, "I.. I am.. that human. Nass..sani of Clan Kiltosh, my lord."
Rakerath shivers at the angriness evident in the Nazgul's voice and his mind screams at him to run away. Just run away and flee this horrible gaze.
Akhorahil makes one small step left and looks at person who just spoke...'Yessss...it isss you....Come clossser, Nassssani Of Clan Kiltosssh!'
Nassani swallows and rises to her feet, her limbs moving her stiffly forward. Her bodily shaking worsens as she nears Akorahil step by step.
Akhorahil watches as Nassani approaches and slowly wields a long dagger from under his robe...
Akhorahil wields DeathBringer.
Invar continues to look straight down at the ground, unaware of anything else...his body rigid.
Akhorahil wields long dagger and slowly raises it high above his head, so everyone can see it..
Nassani's eyes move towards the dagger, stopping a few feet from the dark form. A bead of sweat runs down her brow.
Ckthyssa twists her head a bit to watch the woman approach the dread form. Her eyes wide in stark terror.
Buurz urges his platoon a bit further from the ceremony, they do so quielty, going some 20 or 30 more yards towards the south west, keeping their 80 some yards lone line.
Akhorahil starts to his loudly and his voice is cold and ceremonial..'Thisss is dagger made in the weaponry of The EYE! Thisss is dagger made from the bessst metal which was ever found in the land...Thisss is dagger, crafted by the besst makers..this isss dagger blesssed by our Masster!
Akhorahil speaks more and more loudly, his last words are echoing around area...
Nazgul looks down at Nassani and continues..'And now, now I am giving thee this weapon as a reward for your help! I'm giving you this dagger assss a mark of relationsss between our Master and city of Rhun!'
Rakerath shivers at every word that the Nazgul says. As if shocks of pure cold go through his inferior and decrepit body. His blood is as cold as ice and it seems as if pure fear might do him in.
Akhorahil slowly lowers hand in which he carries a dagger and puts it on the ground in front of Nassani..
Nassani's eyes are transfixed upon the blade, though her body quivers and shakes as the words burrow into her head. Her jaw slackens slightly, eyes widen almost impossiblly.
Akhorahil puts down a Dagger.
Invar remains still , his body registering more the feel of the cold voice than the actual words carried by it...
Akhorahil removes DeathBringer.
Akhorahil slowly turns toward Elder Uruk and hisses at him quietly...'I have one order for you Sssharkuun...lissten carefully..
Nazgul is talking quietly to Rakerath, but he still payes attention to Nassani and what she is doing..
Rakerath nods meekly to the Nazgul as he speaks to him. Sweat pours down his body like a unstoppable water fountain. His voice is chokey and barely audible, "Yes Mass..ster?"
Lok'Mod remains bowed and silent.
Akhorahil says in Morbeth, "I want you to return to Sssarn Goriwing right now...Uruk ssscoutss delievered sssome newss which mussst be checked by you!'"
Akhorahil says in Morbeth, "I will sstay here with my brethen and finisssh thisss ceremony...now go!"
Rakerath starts to look up but thinks better of it and every muscle aches, " Akhorahil finished giving some orders to Elder Uruk and turns his head back at Nassani and at the dagger on the ground..
Nassani goes down upon her knees, her shaking hands reaching for the dagger upon the ground.
Rakerath slowly begins to sink away from the Nine and his movments are slow, but the farther he gets away from the presence the faster he moves. And then finally he walks off toward the west back to SG.
Akhorahil watches Nassani with interest and hisses...'Do not be afraid, Nassani Of Clan Kiltossh...'
Nassani's hand reaches for the dagger, clasping it with a tense, but determined hand, slowly she rises her hand, her eyes only upon the blade.
Akhorahil notices that also Lok'Mod standing next to Nassani is watching the dagger and hisses toward him..'Sssharkuun wasss giving you a dagger....Now you may asssk thisss woman who isss your chieftan and use a dagger I jusst gave her for what you wanted to do before I came!'
Lok'Mod nods, his head bowed,'Yes M'lord..
Akhorahil makes a step back, watching both Nassani and Lok'Mod...
Nassani straightens slowly, the dagger clinched in her hand, stopping about waist height.
Ckthyssa hesitantly rises from her flat posture against the earth. From beneath the black tangle of bangs, she watches.
The rythms of the uruk in the forest clash with the pitter patter of the falling rain, making thier anchient song's diachotomy that much stronger.
Lok'Mod turns to the cheiftain and speaks to her quickly," Nassani's dark eyes turn towards Lok'Mod's and she nods, listening.
Buurz grumbles of the rain as big drops plop down on his metal hat. He glances back towards the ceremony area. It deep in un-natural gloom. Suddenly the rain seems not so bad, he thankfully pulls a bit of salted meat from his pack and gnaws it, thankfull again for his otherwise boring duty of guard duty.
Akhorahil points at the prisoners and hisses..'Do it, Lok'Mod!
Lok'Mod says something unintelligible.
Akhorahil hisses again..'Do it!! Look at their veins from inside! Drink their blood! Stab their eyesss!! DO IT!
Nassani turns the blade around and passes the dagger to Lok'Mod, hilt first. She nods and says, " Indur merely watches silently, head bowed, hands hidden in the sleeves of its robes.
Lok'Mod jumps, startled as the Nazgul yell at him.. quickly moving to grab the dagger and slam it into the chest of the nearest prisoner....
The prisoners scream and wail in dispair. All hope is lot to them, some beg for mercy, other's wish only for the terror to come to a quick end.
Nassani lowers her hand as the dagger is given, her fingers stiffly rubbing aginst the palm of her hand.
Akhorahil watches Lok'Mod carefully and silently...
At the stroke of the blade, the chanting and rythmic thigh slapping, foot stomping and beating upon trees erupts once again in ernest from the uruk. Thier previous terror over the last few minutes given new focus in thier song, it comes louder than ever, inspired by the fear and respect of the power which is the life of thier master, his servants and thus themselves.
There is a great silence....just deep brathing of the prisoners and wind making sound in the forest..
The unfortunate human lurches forward sickeningly, his eyes bulging and his mouth stammering for words as Lok'mod's dagger plunges into his chest. The end comes quickly as his strugles cease, and he slowly wilts to the ground.
The wound in the man's chest is deep and his head flops forward in death at the heart wound..Lok'Mod chants words in honor of the dark master as the man's final breath escapes his lips..
Ckthyssa watches the blood pour down the steps of the temple, black in the dimness. Tenatively she reaches forward, leaning farther forward and flat against ground to touch it as it pools in the loam. Her fingers drip with it and touch it to her cheeks and lips.
Akhorahil starts to hiss again..'Remove his heart Man! Remove it and eat it!
Akhorahil makes a step toward Lok'Mod and watches slowly dying prisoner, hissing..'You sssee how hisss life isss fading out?? But his heart ssstill hasss his previouss strength ...hisss blood isss ssstill hot, so drink it! Now!
Lok'Mod gashes into the man's chest, cutting it open and pulling out the man's heart..
Lok'Mod puts the heart to his mouth and sucks out the blood.
Nassani's voice joins Lok'Mod's in chants in honor of the Dark Master. Blood from the sacrifice pooling around her feet, her eyes taking in the scene before her.
Akhorahil watches Lok'Mod eating the heart and his jeweled eyes gleams slowly
Akhorahil hisses loudly toward crowd of humans and uruks..'Thisss night belongssss to The EYE!!! Thissss night belongss to usss, to usss who sssoon will be the only real rulesss of thisss foressst!!!
Akhorahil turns back to Lok'Mod, who has his face covered with blood and hisses at him...'Well done, Man....
Akhorahil hisses some more....'Today again I wasss ssurprissed by warriorsss of Rhun...now I undersstand, why my Massster wantsss you to be his alliess..
Lok'Mod nods to the wraith,"Yes m'lord..
Akhorahil makes few steps and stops very very close to Lok'Mod, examining his face for a while..
Lok'Mod bows his head at the scrutiny,,
Akhorahil poinst at the Shrine covered with the blood and hisses loudly..'This night we ssacrified thisss place to The EYE!! We usssed the blood, the water of the life, to satisfy our Massster!
The walls seem to surge like a living organism, extending into the night sky with each placement of stone and rock. Snaga swarm about the walls like black insects, prodded and whipped, insulted and cursed by their bosses.
You paged Dorchaidhe with 'Cool! They're pretty much finished with their ceremonies by now--several Beornings were sacrificed on the Beijabar altar to Sauron. Just to update you on what's happening.'.
Akhorahil looks around for the last time and hisses loudly..'And I know, that The EYE iss pleassssed with what we did tonight!! The EYE isss pleasssed that we now have thisss Shrine for him!
Akhorahil turns to Lok'Mod for the last time and hisses, pointing at the rest of the prisoners...'You ssstill have a lot of work with thisss dagger, Man....Go and sacriifice all of them to The EYE! The EYE wantsss their soulsss!
Akhorahil covers himself nito his black robe and slowly turns, walking back into the darkness...
Ckthyssa draws herself up, eyes glowing with mingled worship and fear. Tenatively her hands lightly start to beat on her thighs again.
As nazgul slowly leaves this place, the aura of fear and terror also disappears....
Lok'Mod turns to his cheiftain and gives her the dagger, holding it out to her..
Akhorahil leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Akhorahil has left.
Lok'Mod says something unintelligible.
A deep shuddering sigh comes from the depths of Naraki's being as she slowly rises from where she lies prostrate on the ground. Eyes wide, she gazes around her, finally locking on Lok'Mod's face and the blood dripping from his mouth. She runs her tongue over her eye tooth, and swallows, glancing now at the other prisoners.
Nassani nods her head and recieves the dagger, " Naraki echoes Nassani's cry as she watches her chieftain plunge the dagger first into the prisoner's eyes then his chest. " Lok'Mod nods to the cheiftain and lets her take control of the ceremony, standing to the side unobtrusivly..
Clary watches Nassani, her hand on her chest and whispers " Ckthyssa's slim hands increase tempo and beat against her legs. Her eyes half-lidded in the throes of religious fervor. Her blood smeared lips part and voices rises in a wailing chant and prayer.
Nassani lets the body slump back upon the floor and with gleaming dark eyes she searches out the next prisoner. After a brief moment they fall upon a woman and she grabs her up. She pulls back the woman's head and with a *sching* the dagger moves across the womans throat, a line of blood trickles and then pours down upon the dias. A chant rises in Nassani's throat, dark and solemn.
Black uruks of Mordor throng about the sacrifice, many of them forgetting all pretense of rhythm as they flop and leap in wild abandon amid the mossy trunks, towering trees, and impenetrable darkness. The noise of the ceremonies grows slowly, solemn songs often devolving to ranting howls.
Nassani lets the woman fall to the dias on top of the one before her. Again her eyes search for another prisoner to give their soul to the dark master.
Clary closes her eyes, hand upon her pouch. She rocks on her heels to the rhythm of the chant, singing under her breath
From Easterling to Easterling, the steady rhythm of Ckthyssa's beat is echoed, becoming louder as each adds his or her efforts. The sound becomes intricate, synchopated, and other voices join in the chant. Deep and high together, they fill the forest with their wild, haunting sounds. Naraki too beats in rhythm, her young, high voice ringing clear in the dark of the night.
Nassani reaches towards a man, his protestations and whimpers looked upon only with disdain. With her iron hand she holds his head and slices the man's tongue out. Blood pools within his mouth overflowing onto his chest. In a final moment as the blade sinks into his heart, he screams a terrible plea.
Clary rocks, heel to toe, allowing the chanting and screams to sweep over her. Her voice remains low.
Klen slowly makes his way through a gap west of you.
Klen has arrived.
Yark leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
As she makes the sacrifices again and again the wails of the prisoners intermingle with the chanting and rhythms, blood, dark and red covers Nassani. Streaking down her clothes as the rain washes it, pooling it below her.
The uruk close to the shrine, gleefully leap upon the dead bodies, the rip them to shreds and wallow in the gore.
Nassani pays little heed to the uruks who scrabble for the bodies, going about her deadly duty one prisoner at a time.
Klen rushes towards the area, clad in black from head to toe, including a thin piece of studded leather armor on his chest, shortsword burdened in his right hand. Behind him follow five other men dressed similary as he, with similar weapons such as short sword or longsword. Some grip torches in their hands, all halting at the edge of the field, peering through the darkness towards the shrine and the crowds about them.
Buurz sits back against a tree, some 90, almost 100 yards from the ceremony. He slowly chews upon his provisions of dried meat and uruk cram. Washing it down with a good gulp from his wine skin, he then stands and looks back towards the gloom of the ceremony, hardly visable through the trees if at all. Still the sounds of chants and the beating upon trees is all around him. He scolws at all the noise and sends runners to the ends of the long line that his platoon. They slowly gather along the track leading south west.
Gaurgor howls again and again, the wolves of the mountains gathering around the slaughter and joining in it ferociously.
Nassani turns, her body drenched in blood and soaked by rain, as she hears the sound of Klen and his men approach. The dagger in her hand gleaming dangerously.
The fervor of the ceremony steadily increases as the sound of the Easterlings' chanting mingles with that of the prisoners' screams and pleading. The scent of fresh blood fills the area around the shrine, and the forest floor becomes slick with blood mixed with rain. Naraki breathes in the air deeply, letting it out slowly as she ululates in a high-pitched voice. Her voice breaks off suddenly as a procession of humans bursts in on the scene. She turns quickly to stare in their direction, beginning to rise to her feet.
Clary continues to rock back and forth, apparently unaware of what's around her..
Ckthyssa's arms cross over her face at the rush of bodies, protecting herself from the buffeting of the crowd. Her voices holds the chant. She strikes out andtaggers to her feet.
Nassani calls out to Klen, her voice strong and fierce, "Are you he who led those to torch the village?"
The uruk making their noise of chant and rythm clash against the Easterling's song, not with intention do they do this. The offset song's making for a slanted mesh of meter and key.
Klen stands where he is, as well do his followers and companions, staring down upon the masses with heavy breaths. FOr now, he simply stays, watching menacingly. It is unforseen what he and his followers might next do, simply standing in the darkness, blending with it, except for the flames that spark from torches.
Dorchaidhe emerges through the forest from the south west.
Klen lifts his chin as an uknow calls to him and calls out, "I am."
Locriana emerges through the forest from the south west.
Terrik emerges through the forest from the south west.
Dori emerges through the forest from the south west.
From SouthWest, Immense_Bear lets out a low howl, its otherworldly timbre echoing through the trees, " Immense_Bear emerges through the forest from the south west.
Gimli emerges through the forest from the south west.
Nassani raises the dagger, stretching it out, "Come then.." Her voice is cut off
Nassani picks up a Dagger.
Bear Platoon raise a sudden alram, the braying of thier harsh horns echo around the gathering of to the Southwest, the horn call signals alert!
Tholan emerges through the forest from the south west.
Tholan walks in, looking around as he does so.
Terrik looks around in shock
Clary continues to rock back and forth, completely unaware of the world around her
From the southwest comes marching with great noise and shouts of war on their lips a band of dwarves and wild-haired men! Torches flare in their hands, axe and spear glint, and their rage shakes the air!
In the darkness of the path, the heavy rumbling of footsteps can be heard, and the dim lantern lights of marching brigade of armored dwarves can be seen, their stout figures shadowy in the dark wood. Dori leads the front of the march, followed by Gimli..
Ckthyssa's voice falters as she turns, wide-eyed in shock at the strange tongue of no dark design.
Locriana silently moves along the tree line, blending in with the treeline and clay
Nassani turns her head towards the howl, knowing only too well that there is little time. She calls out, "The dark master calls us to serve!"
Dorchaidhe stands at the head of the band of men, a war-axe gleaming in his massive fingers. "RRRRAAAAAAHHH!!!" he screams, answered in kind by the ranks of men behind him. Fire glints in his eyes beneath ragged red-brown hair, and his footsteps are long as sure.
Immense_Bear lets out a bone chilling howl, his teeth now bared in a fearful grimace. He bellows loudly, shaking the ground near him, " Nassani is standing amidst a ruin of bodies, her front soaked with blood and rain drenches her clothes and matts her hair.
Gimli slides his wicked looking battle axe from his belt in a blur of motion. A faint glow seems to emanate from the axe as he holds it ready in front of him.
Klen stares down at Nassani from the east where he and his five companions in black stand, torches lit. Suddenly he changes his galne from the sacrafices to the sudden march of opposing army, standing still where he is, face never telling the tales of emotion that form inside.
As the howl echoes through the woods, and Woodsmen as well as dwarves emerge from the forsest around the Easterlings and Uruks at their gruesome ceremony, Naraki scrambles to her feet. The forest floor is slick with blood and rain, and the girl slips in her effort to rise to her feet. She scurries toward her chieftain, swiftly removing the sling that hampers the movement of her left arm. Quickly she unslings her bow, and reaches with her right hand behind her to grab an arrow.
Clary remains where she is, whispering under her breath and rocking, eyes closed.
A platoon of uruk in the forest, who fortuantly had been along the south west, launch arrows blindly along the path of the oncomming enemy. Those with out bows throws rocks or anything else to ditract the large host. Imploying guerllia Nassani slips the dagger into her belt and unslings her bow, crouching upon one knee and fitting an arrow in the string with one swift motion.
Rynn emerges through the forest from the south west.
Gurgarath explodes into motion, shouting hoarsely, " Locriana gets herself ready and composed
Gaurgor pauses in his howling. The warg-chief and many of the wolves turn to face the dark woods for a moment, but even then heavy footsteps are heard. The wolves take up a different tenor of howl, one of alarm and rage as ranks on ranks of men and dwarves and greater creatures approach.
Indur shrinks a bit, away from the oncoming humans, just another dark small shadow in the darkness.
Terrik wipes the rain from his brow and looks at all with a straight look then smiles as he grasp his axe tight bye his side
The arrows find the brests of a few of the Anduin warriors, but more of them raise their targets to stick down the arrows. Torches are tossed into the woods where the orcs hide, setting nothing ablaze due to the rain, but removing much of the cover... and giving targets to the spear men, who hurl many shafts...
Dori calls out to the dwarven contingent with him as the black arrows begin to fly foward, "Khazad, attack!" He holds his large battle axe in front of him, his golden red chain mail glistening in the torch light. He marches the small army forward, looking for a target..
The dwarven troops led by Gimli form tight ranks, using their shields to deflect the missiles in the darkness. Occasionally one of the dwarves goes down with a grunt of surprise from a lucky shot.
Indur 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.
Immense_Bear quickly lumber to the front of the group, his large bulk making an easy target for any opposibg archers. As the arrows bounce off his thick hide, though, his intent seems clear, as he tries to act as a barricade for the approaching Woodmen.
The uruk in the woods, flee from the lights, not for fear of the flame, but for the loss of cover. A few find thier ends to the spear, but the majority slink back further into the wood. TYhose on the west side of the track still with thier seargent.
Klen looks over the oncoming army once more, and lifts his chin stubbornly. He turns to his fellow men, and mutters, "There's no telling who's who i nthis mess. Let us return to the tower." With that, he begins to walk off uncaringly to the east, as do the others bearing torches and straight blades.
Clary rocks, faster and faster, still whispering under her breath.
Dori muscles tense and his teeth nash together as the scream in the forest penetrates his ears, and he hesitates momentarily, but continues plodding forward in the blood, mud, and rain, looking for a target.
Klen leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Klen has left.
Immense_Bear stops and looks up to the trees, hearing the unearthly wail. He howls loudly himself, wether in fear, or to drown out the other howl is uncertain.
A frisson of fear travels through the dwarven host as the wail echos eerily through the woods. Gimli, with a shake of his broad shoulders, follows in his elder, Dori's, wake.
Naraki's eyes grow wide as the woods fills with her enemies. They dart from east to west...and east again. In a low voice, she murmurs, "Dark Master, help us now..." Her eyes go now to her chieftain, waiting to see what Nassani will order.
Nassani scowls and then cries out above the din of the battle to her comrades, " Dorchaidhe leads what rapidly becomes no longer a steady advance, but a wild charge! The men of the Bear break into a screaming horde, that sweeps towards the assembled enemy, churning leaves into mud under pounding feet.
Gurgarath reaches down, and grabs Naraki by the shoulder, bending down, the huge creature growls into her ear, "Bring your people to the safty of the fortress, or leave them to rot here. We will not fight this day."
Uruks writhing in the heart of the bloody revelry are the last to sense the change and hear the unmistakable signs of war. They are consumed in an ecstasy of blood and entrails, where the colorful wooden posts of ancient beijabar rites have been drenched in black sacrifices to the Dark Lord. Only when they hear howls far more menacing than those of the wargs do they begin to look, and fear.
Buurz, with half of his platoon seperated from him calls to them in thier rough language, they respond and continue to throw rocks or launch arrows, doing thier best to slow the enemy. The group to the west slinks back into the gloom, thier sounds masked by the din.
Gaurgor howls again, the chorus of wolfen voices mingling yet dimished with that of the Nazgul and the terrible howling roar of the bear.
Ckthyssa tosses her head, snarling as she clenches an impotent fist, frail and unarmed aginst the night. She spins at the thunderous sound of the troll's voice and instinctively she starts for .
Immense_Bear quickly darts forward, his furry body bolting out in front of the charging men of the Anduin. He howls again, snarling madly, headed as directly as possible for the altar he spies, " Gimli, with a broad motion of his arm screams over the noise to his troops, "Charge, Khazad! Bring death to this vileness."
Unlike the villagers of the Anduin, the dwarven brigade stays in tight ranks, fending off any arrows with shields, and protecting themselves from stray attacks of lone orcs. At the front of the group, Dori marches forward, his eyes darting back and forth, seeing the chaos forming..
Indur leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Nassani looks at the hulking form of Gurgarath and stand, " Nassani leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Ckthyssa leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Buurz and half of his platoon, cut off from an easy flight to the East slide off into the gloom of the wood.
Buurz takes the wide and clear road to the west.
Clary jolts at the trolls's voice...following nassani
Clary leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Nassani looks back and motions, " Nassani takes the wide and clear road to the west.
Laying into the slaughter, the men of the Vales turn on all that they can find, axes slashing, spears seeking blood. A small band breaks off with the massive warrior Dorchaidhe, plunging into the forest in search of the band of orcs who sought to kill by stealth...
Dorchaidhe takes the wide and clear road to the west.
Immense_Bear stops as he sees the foes before him fleeing, and he rises to his hind paws and lets out a howl, and, towering above the others, he turns towards the large shadow to the east, standing easily over all others nearby, and lets out a growl that can be only one thing, a challenge.
Dori motions some of the scouts with him, and points to the west, "there, we follow those orcs, they shall not escape."
Dori takes the wide and clear road to the west.
Gurgarath snarls a series of rough commands to the disorganized rabble that has formed before him. More a credit to the size and ferocity of the troll than to their discipline, the Orc troops form a wedge, and begin to back slowly away from the oncoming force.
Nassani leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Naraki startles as a huge hand descends on her shoulder. She stares up at the immense troll towering over her. Silently, she nods...then turns to gaze around at the other Easterlings. Two in particular catch her eye: The healer and her apprentice. Swiftly, she crouches and goes to them. Ckthyssa already heading in the troll's direction, she taps Clary on the shoulder. "Come!" she orders in a hissing voice, then turns to run as quickly as she may to follow the troll...and her chieftain.
Naraki leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Terrik cut some of the monsters down before they escape throught the gap in the trees
The orcs in the heart of the once-holy site rise and scatter, their bloodlust turning quickly to terror. Only one of their number is too maddened to flee: a haggard young orc, robed in fur and leather and painted with fearful sigils in red and blue, rushes forward to meet the sure doom of the Immense bear. He laughs, and his eyes are crazed. "It is DONE, creature! The Dark Lord has claimed this place. Do you smell the blood of your kinsmen? The Eye will look on this site with favor, forever!"
Terrik see the blood on his hands and kneels
Dori appears from behinde a thorny bush southeast of you.
Terrik looks at his hands indisbief
The whine of arrows is constant over the heads of the retreating troops, falling clattering among the advancing forces of the Dwarves and Woodsmen.
Dori returns from a group of tightly clumped trees, his axe blade red with blood, and the hammers and axes of the soldiers with him soaked with blood as well. Dori shouts above the din, "return to the main group, and watch for stray arrows!"
Gimli spies the towering form of a huge troll. Slashing and hacking his way towards it with his guard right behind, he cuts a swath towards the awesome creature. "Stand and fight, cowards!" he shouts.
Terrik has the blood is wash away so his terriks innocces
Dori makes his way through the choas, away from the main contingent of dwarves towards Gimli, seeing the hulking creature in the distance. He cuts down a small uruk, seeming determined to fight the foul beast.
The angry howl of the bear echoes over the forest, momentarily drowning out all else. He quickly descends from his hind legs, letting his forelegs crash down on the crazed goblin in front of him, his jaws tearing into the foolish gobber's throat. He stands again, his maw no black with goblin blood, and lets out another howl...
Gurgarath scowls, turning once to look towards the advancing army. As Gimli shouts he smiles darkly, but says nothing. He continues his retreat, occasionaly looking over his shoulder to look at the hastily formed rear gaurd.
Locriana sneaks up on an unexpecting foe
Bear Platoon continue to attept to slow the enemy, but they are really of no more than an annoyance
The wolves and wargs of the mountains do not stand and wait for battle. They see even the monstrous trolls moving away, and know that they have had as much blood tonight as they will get. Still howling, they lope into the darkness among the mossy trees, running alongside the retreating orcs of Sarn Goriwing.
Gurgarath leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Terrik looks for locriana and goes to fight at her side
Terrik cutting his way to her with passion
Dori calls out to Gimli and his small group of guards, saying, "follow the troll, Gimli! Do not let the beast escape, we shall have victory this night!"
Dori leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Bear Platoon what is left of them slink into the gloom of the wood, thier sergean no where to be found.
Bear Platoon leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Gimli turns his group to follow the fleeing troll. Bloodlust high in him he screams into the night, "Kill!"
Gimli leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Immense_Bear howls after the retreating forces, and his howl becomes even louder as he sees the troll flee. He quickly begins moving east, unwilling to let his chosen prey escape so easily, knocking any hapless goblins in his way aside, as they seem to be more a mere annoyance.
Immense_Bear leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Tholan leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Rynn leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Terrik leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Terrik slowly makes his way through a gap west of you.
Terrik leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Locriana sees Terrik advancing, blood dripping from his hands, the sound of war crys fill the air
Locriana leaves through a gap between the trees east of you.
Locriana slowly makes hers way through a gap west of you.
The gap between the trees takes you to a small trail, leading uphill.
Western side of Emyn-nu-Fuin
The mysterious and dangerous Emyn-nu-Fuin, the Mountains of Mirkwood, suddenly rise high and threatening east of you. There is a sea of dense fir-wood on the hills ahead and the muddy and cold, but nearly overgrown old trails criss-crosses up to the hills.
The before dawn is dark and noisy, unknown creatures sneak by in the wood around you, howling and crying, causing the blood to freeze in your veins. Your light seems so small, it reflects in staring eyes between the trees then thins and fades out in the darkness. Huge, moss eaten and downfallen trunks, too slippery to climb over, cause a sickening smell in the sharp air, blocking your way to the northwest.
It is raining. You can hear the raindrops fall all around you and you are soon drenched. The rain sprinkles down slowly making the ground muddy and the uphill paths slippery.
Contents:
Terrik
Rynn
Tholan
Immense_Bear
Gimli
Bear Platoon
Dori
Gurgarath
Dorchaidhe
Ujakalsaki wagon(#27475Ve)
Mordor Forest
Obvious exits:
East, SouthWest, NorthEast, SouthEast, and West
Locriana carefully treads the path uphill towards you.
Locriana has arrived.
Ujakalsaki wagon(#27475Ve)
Turning upon the sudden appearance of the Bear platoon, the Beorning warriors set into them with a shout of rage, charging to the clash!
Low shapes greyish and black lope uphill among the towering trees. They outpace the orcs, humans, and dwarves quickly, and rush along the well-trodden path to the rising black mountain in the east.
Gimli slips on some wet and muddy leaves and slides down the hill, flailing about with his battle axe as he tries to slow his slide.
Gimli attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
ARB: You've been injured for 41 hp's by Gimli's attack...
...you have 8 left. Please RP this injury accordingly.
Bear Platoon which is realy quite few at this point, perhaps eight at most, and in the process of fleeing, do not wait around for glory of battle, but to save thier own skins. And since no stronger beast of thier ilk commands them, they continue thier flight. Now only four continue thier flee towards the ower and up along the track.
Gurgarath and the reargaurd of the Orcs continue their hasty retreat, treading up the foothills of the mountains of Mirkwood.
Bear Platoon has left.
Dori slides down the muddy slope after Gimli and seeing the stray warg, swings forward with his axe, grunting as he slightly loses his balance, tipping sideways.
Dori attacks you with his Battle Axe!...
...and he hits! Ouch!
Darn! You've been knocked to 0 HP by Dori's attack!
You are critically wounded, and will die soon without a +HEAL'er.
See HELP COMBAT DEATH for more information. Good luck!
The mighty Gaurgor falls to the ground, covered in blood, and lies still.
Gimli wrenches his axe free from whatever stopped his slide, thankful in some small way for the help in stopping his slide.
Gaurgor lets out a yelping cry of pain. Loping along behind the main pack of the wolves, he paused long enough to leap into the throat of a human warrior who had nearly killed an orc scout--but then the mighty axes of the dwarves find the huge warg-chief. Gimli's stroke slams into his hindquarters, driving the warg to the black earth. Then Dori's axe hammers cleanly through his neck. The head of the great warg rolls away, and his corpse flops motionless to the ground.
Immense_Bear lumbers into view, his head swiveling about, mouth drawn back in a fearful snarl, even as he slips up the muddy slope, looking for a foe...
Dori barely keeps one hand on his axe, and slides down the muddy slope, bumping into Gimli as his axe jerks on the mutilated warg, stopping his motion.
Gimli gets to his feet and, noticing his elder kinsman nearby, says, "Ye are covered wi' blood, Uncle... were it not fer the axe I would have thought ye were a fell beast."
Gurgarath takes little notice of the fall of the creatures around him, be they Orc or Warg, instead, the huge beast turns to lumber forward, his long strides carying him further into the mountains.
Gurgarath has left.
Terrik cfight with locriana and kills the trolls that attack them
Terrik see a troll creeping DDDDDup on locriana and runs to block the blow but slips on the mud and takes the blow in his left arm
Terrik the blow goes deep and he crys out in pain trys to get to his feet before the troll gets and other strike
Terrik strikes first as he gets to his feet and cuts deep into the trolls neck
Terrikblood is every where then terrik strikes and cry out die u evil thing die"!"
Gimli looks up the slope and scowls. He pulls a small whistle from beneath his cloak and lets loose with a high pitched tweet that carries through the damp air and underbrush quite well. His troops slow as the enemy outdistances them and disappear into the trackless waste...
Dorchaidhe douses his lantern.
Terrik cuts the head off of this troll or what ever it was
Terrik holding his arm he looks at the body and see it had slave clothes
Gimli kicks the carcass of the dead warg and says, "Where'd this come from?"
A great sigh of disappointment arises from the warrior Dorchaidhe, whose axe has felled few this day. No more enemies can be found... around him, Beornings set fire to all the corpses they can gather, and anything else which is foul and dark and smells like the orcs.
Immense_Bear looks around, and growling one last time after the retreating orcs, he rumbles off, his maw still blackened by the blood of a few unlucky goblins.