Garj's dinner with a snaga
Moria, Throne Room
Your eyes burn and weep with the foul smoke and peircing light of a great bon fire in the middle of this massive cavern. The cavern stretches for what must be hundreds of feet in every direction though the reddish wave from the fire drives the shadows only so far, beyond which nothing can be seen. To the west, against the back wall of the cavern and atop a pedestal easily three feet high sits the mighty throne of Moria, veiled in shadow because of its distance from the fires. A long, dingy, threadbare rug covers the cavern floor from just beyond the bonfire up to the steps that ascend to the throne. Tattered curtains all the adorn the walls, relatively undefiled from the days of dwarven occupation. A great door sits on the south wall and a portculis fills the archway to the east. A wooden lever protrudes from the wall to the right of the archway. A dark passage snakes off to the west.
The portculis is currently: open.
Contents:
Bopkar
Remains of an Uruk-hai
Olog Warriors
Throne
Obvious exits:
Metal Door <MD> leads to Black Chasm.
Portculis leads to Guard Chambers, Fourth Level.
Massive Ivory Door leads to Moria, Long Hall.
What stands before you is one of the common snaga. He is slightly hunched as one who is used to being subservient usually are. Being mostly hairy his torn rags barely cover his form and what hair you do see is severly matted. He feels you looking at him and he hunches lower backing away from you. He feels you may wish him ill.
Garj looks and the snaga before him with anger in his eyes. "I said, WHO IS YOUR MASTER?"
Bopkar says, "Master not have I"
Bopkar cowerss in fear at the sound of this uruk's voice.
Garj smiles evilly at the little snaga. "Yes you do. Now I am your master! I shall ask again, Who is your master little one?"
Bopkar 's eyes go wide as the magnitude of what is happening dawns on him. "I..I mean Master Garj"
Garj seems content with that. He grabs his mug of ale and takes a grand swig, beer flowing freely from the sides of his mouth. "Snaga, get me another ale and something to eat. Cooked this time! Then leave me be for you bother me." Garj then watches the little snaga to see his reaction.
Bopkar turns to retrieve the ale and thinks that cooked food was here earlier. There was quite a lot of noise over a "piggie" and Bobkar wonders if there is any left.
Finding no cooked food, Bopkar wanders over to the remains of a Uruk-hai and pulls out an arm. It was curious that this arm had a bite out of it already but it mattered not to Bopkar as he dragged over to the fireplace and started a flame.
Garj continues sharpening his scimitar on the floor, not realizing what the disgusting little snaga was doing. He drinks his ale and thinks about pleasant things like bleeding elves.....
Bopkar watched the flames grow and threw the arm on the fire.
Bopkar flips the arm over with foot.
Bopkar pulls the arm out and picks the charred bits of cloth that remained. Inspecting to see that it was not to well done, walks over to his new master and sets this magnificent specimen of meat before him. Bowing deeply he knows his master will be gratly pleased
Unbeknownst to Garj, his little snaga has torn off an arm and is cooking it up for Garj's dinner. Ugggh!
Garj smells the wafting odor from the cooking flesh and his mouth begins to water. As the snaga brings the meat over to him, he surveys the meat carefully. After making sure that there is no evidence of poisoning he takes a cautious bite. Slowly the Uruk begins to bare his teeth until the sides of his mouth curl up in a smile. "You cook very well. You shall be my chef and my personal snaga." He rends another large hunk of meat from the bicep and chews loudly. "You must never be too far from me in case I get hungry or need you to fetch something. Perhaps I will even teach you something someday if you are worthy." Now leave me be, but don't go beyond earshot.
Bopkar retreats to a secluded area were he can see most of the hall and keep an eye on his new master. Finding a suitable spot, he crouches down.
Garj gnashes happily on his dinner, drinking his ale in a merry way. He tears a large hunk of meat off from the bone and tosses it towards the crouching snaga. "What is your name little one?" Garj cleans the bone free of meat, and begins chewing on the bones in an attempt to suck some fresh marrow out. "And who taught you how to cook like that. That was the most tender meat I have had in many nights!"