Name Gender Species Who Combat Type

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Garjin Male Uruk-Hai IC ARMED PLAYER (0s idle)

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You move away from this chamber, heading some distance through the huge Second Hall until you arrive at:

Moria, Hall of the King

A chamber has been hewn from the rock here, the ancient strength of the workmanship defying the attempts of time to erode and destroy it. A rectangular cavern, longer north/south is adorned with the markings of both recent and ancient, long gone inhabitants. Whatever use it held in the past seems unclear, yet now it has become the court which belongs to the King of Moria. At the far northern end of the cavern lies a large upraised dias, steps leading on all compass points to the throne which rests at the zenith of each stairs end. Several smaller chairs rest behind, both on the right and left hands of the throne. Stone pillars upon the east and west sides running southward from the throne present sanctuaries close to the wall, and allow a great hallway of stone to extend from the chamber entrance to the throne itself. the light of flickering torches rest on both wall and pillar alike whilst an oblong shaped fire pit runs before the throne, each flickering fire from torch and pit presenting light by which to guide. Between the northern wall and the southern entrance a multitude of orcs could gather, and in such need, olog warriors and uruk-hai guards, evenly spaced on the west and eastern walls protect this hall.

Contents:

Razzgrak

Takursh

Gorkon

Orc Caravan

Throne

Obvious exits:

South leads to Moria, Second Hall, Eastern End.

Gongurk has arrived.

Gongurk swaggers in looking mildly upset. HE walks as of his armor is a size too small in the seat.

Razzgrak stands upon the throne, the small gathering of orcs nearby pacing below him. Regal in a terrible, evil way, he remains standing, looking around him to the snivelling assembled masses, while his cloak ruffles behind him.

Gorkon reveals nothing of his face, but merely stands in the corner like a granite sentinel. He has two other orcs flanking him at either side also relaxing against a pillar.

Gongurk looks up at the dark stoney figure at the throne. His dark penetrating eyes linger on the king's face before looking around at the various armed warriors like himself. A crude half grin washes onto his bent face and he nods quietly to himself.

Garjin ambles into the great hall of kings, but stops short of the oblong fire pit. Seeing the mighty Razzgrak there, Garjin lowers his eyes and bows stiffly. The warrior Uruk then steps to the side to blend in with the throngs of other fell beasts in the room.

Razzgrak turns to look upon Gorkon silently, but says nothing, instead offering a grim smile to the cloaked and covered orc. Recovering, he points a finger towards the Shaman, Takursh, nods and says loudly "Begin!", his face contorted into a sickly grin. to the assembled masses he solemly declares as the echos of his first command reverberate; "Summon the guards to bring forth Garjin, the Uruk-hai of the waning Valnul tribe!"

Gongurk listens carefully to the king's words and turns to peer, with his dark eyes, across the hall towards where Garjin is expected to arrive. He stands there nearly motionless. Only by his breathing does he move. It's as if there is a tension in the air around him.

Sharku arrives from the north.

Sharku has arrived.

[Takursh(#24742)] Over the general noise of the hall, Takursh raises his spear like a scepter, holding it up in his right hand. He looks across the room until the noise calms slightly, and then lowers his spear. He straps it to his back to free up his hands, and looks on over the crowd, surveying them. He then throws up both of his arms, and bows his head, letting the tail of hair dangle down by his left ear, to brush on his armor. His cloak is thrown back over his shoulders, and he begins to mumble some low words, in the dark language of the ancient uruks. His words become louder after a span of seconds, and they begin to gain a rythem, rising and falling in volume and pitch. Most of the other shamans in the great chamber recognize the drone, and add their own voices to it, though some of them try to provoke the general mass to join in. The chant gains a new volume, and Takursh throws his head back, to look at the ceiling through closed eyes as he yells, continuing to bring the noise to a peak. As the other shamans join in, the torches on the wall flicker slightly, and a thread of shadow can be seen dancing in the center of the flame. When the lights change, Takursh lowers his arms, and opens his eyes, silent. The torches are normal. He turns, and looks behind him and up, towards the throne, with a question on his face.

Sharku scuttles into the room, muttering darkly to himself.

[Razzgrak(#2715)] Several Guards present their arms to the King and walk away, comming towards Garjin. Reaching him, they flank either side of him, jostling the other uruks out of the way "You are to come with us!" they whisper, and begin to move foward, expecting Garjin to keep up.

Gorkon remains unmoving at the action now proceeding in the tunneled hall. He flashes back a glance trying to spy the one in question and finally turns to one of the orcs nearest him and asking. Setting the large head of the mace on the stone floor with a *thud*, he rests an arm on the now converted weapon for support.

A faint look of uncertainty crosses Garjin's eyes, but he does his master's bidding and follows the burly guards. His weathered greay cloak fluttering along at his side he feverently wishes his mace was in his hands as he feels at great peril without it. He follow up to the diaz and kneels before his lord, and lowers his head. "You have beckoned me presence, great one?"

Razzgrak watches unmoving, standing before the stone throne of his office, his black shirt and cloak ruffling with each gesture he makes with his hands, as if weaving something intricate. As Garjin walks forth he salutes in respect, and as Garjin kneels, declares "The valnul tribe have lost their way, Garjin!". With a short movement, his scimitar comes out, held firmly by his hand. An evil sneer forms upon his face and he replies "What is to be done about it?!". He motions Takursh towards him as he speaks.

Gorkon looks upon the service with a peripheral satisfaction. He remains, or so he believes, in the room as a symbol of the preservation of the old operation of matters. Reaching up to his chin, Gorkon scratches at an old injury from his ast travel and re-applies his focus to the ceremony.

Throgl has arrived.

Throgl materializes.

[Takursh(#24742)] As the great king directs Takursh to move, he bows his head to his ruler and ascends toward the throne. Arriving to stand off the the side of Garjin, facing the king, he looks Garjin over carefully before bowing toward Razzgrak.

Sharku turns about, his large mace scraping against the floor and making quite the ruckus, and heads muttering towards the door.

Vorshag arrives from the northVorshag has arrived.

Sharku moves away from the Throne Room.

Sharku has left.

Throgl sidles furtively in from the south, and pauses to look the gathered crowd over in some confusion. Shrugging silently, he stalks up to the back of the crowd and cranes his neck to watch the ceremony.

Gorkon turns as he is brushed by an orc. His head reels a bit to the right and he pits his great big head in the face of Throgl. A blast of hot air escapes his swath and his eyes narrow before careening back to the ceremony.

Razzgrak leans to one of his personal guards and points toward Gorkon, the cloaked and enigmatic orc shielded somewhat by the stone pillars. At once a guard nods and heads toward Gorkon, gathering several guards to help him. in his orders.

[Gorkon(#14220)] As only a fool could miss warriors closing in on his position, Gorkon shifts his posture and sees several of the royal guard no less heading in his direction. He reaches down and lifts the huge mace to over his shoulder like a sling and remains perfectly still.

The Uruk-Hai kneeling before his king lookes up into his eyes, fearing the response to the obvious answer. "My king, our numbers have been declining. Valnul is not strong like it was."

Gongurk quietly stands to the side and watches the proceedings with some interest. He glances to the dark uruks on either side of him and bobs his head up and down thinking. He crosses his thick muscular arms and glares from Garjin to Takursh and finally glances to the king.

Hallog arrives from the north.

Hallog has arrived.

Razzgrak turns and looks harshly upon Garjin "I will expect the Valnul to rise to superiority within Moria" and nods to Takursh carefully. "Proclaim the title!" he says.

Drekhor has arrived.

Razzgrak looks around at the milling, shuffling masses in front of him with a stern eye.

Drekhor meanders about bowing to his seniors before standing against the wall nearest from the throne

[Takursh(#24742)] As Razzgrak's nod signals him, Takursh nods an acknowladgement and turns to face the crowd from the raised dais. He stands there surveying the onlookers for some time, noting the excitement in the faces of some, and the fear in the faces of others. The flickering torchlight casts frightfull shadows over the red eyes of Takursh, causing the flaming points to seem brighter yet. He turns only his head this time, back to glance at Garjin one more time, before facing the crowd once more. As before, he raises both of his arms, slightly off to his sides, and speaks in a surprisingly loud voice. "Brugapai! Erokrakur! Valnul! Children of the Dark One, and servants of the Fire Beast! Orcs, trolls, goblins, emmisaries of the darkness! All of Moria! Look now upon the Warrior Garjin, of the Valnul. Many battles has he fought, and all of them victories, bringing glory to himself and his tribe. It is because of this that the Lord Razzgrak, Undisputed ruler of all Moria, second only to teh Great Beast itself, has proclaimed that Garjin of Valnul shall be the ruler of his tribe. Garjin, Warrior of Valnul, is now Garjin, Cheiftain of Valnul! So it is as the will of the Great Beast and the Ruler see fit!"

Gnashbone arrives from the north.

Gnashbone has arrived.

Razzgrak walks several steps down the dias, lifts up his hands and speaks loudly, and clearly; "WHO CONTESTS THIS RITE!?" loudly, a mere formality - not excpecting response from such a powerful command.

Gnashbone shuffles into sight, moving slowly but surely, and looking around at the assembled group. He tries to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, taking up a position in the rear of the hall, and watching intently.

Gorkon turns almost on his heel as the first guard to reach him speaks to the side of his face. The tall uruk turns, as if he was addressed so crassly that retaliation might be in order, to look at the guard with a stern face and an illuminated image on his forehead. He watches the guard a long moment, as if driving the point home that he is not cattle and reaches down, tightening two leather gauntlets and motioning for the guard to proceed.

Razzgrak looks upon the orcs around him, and watches them in silence, allowing time for any to speak out.

The eyes of the newly elected grow wide as the honor bestowed him is finally understood. Garjin begins to rise and thank the great king of Moria.

Drekhor looks from Gorkon to the King, a slow smile appearing on his face.

Vorshag chuckles softly from the crowd of uruks as he watches Garjin with eyes like a hawk..Seeing all. He raises them to glance up at the king and tilts his head in shallow recognition of his position. Vorshag lets out a long and low hiss and then nods again in approval

Gongurk looks about the chamber as if looking for a specific face.

Throgl shifts nervously at the shouted query and sinks behind the crowd, prudently out of sight.

[Razzgrak(#2715)] The Guards not to Gorkon and proceed carefully around the side of the ceremony, expecting Gorkon to follow, and occasionally making sure he is by looking around to him. They intend to bring him to the dias as well

Gorkon seems to have a problem making his way up to the dais in front of the uruk community. His foot seems to have a problem taking the first step, that is until he turns to one of his cohorts and mumbles a few words. Once finished, he follows in close cadence with the guards, keeping close to the wall and away from view as long as possible. Gripping the mace tighter around his lanky fingers, Gorkon holds his belt with the other hand in a mere shard of the confidence he once harbored as a king.

Hallog removes the cloak around him and drops it to the floor. No longer concealed, he stands with distinction in the throng of observers, as he clanks forward with long steps yielding a pompous stridor. "I contest it, I contest it all, for Hallog here, being me, is the chieftain, for I Hallog am the chieftain. _I_ am Zorugg's successor!"

Drekhor messages his belly and squirms as if in pain. A look of relief passes his face as he breaks wind. Not a loud fart by any means but one that is soft, long and definitely odorous. Several snaga around him begin to move away from Drekhor in a daze. Drekhor looks on passively at the events before him, trying to give no reaction to the vile and smelly seed planted in the throne room.

Razzgrak turns around, noticing Gorkon, and smiles. Slowly, purposefully, he makes his way back up towards the dias. and turns once he reaches his throne, when he hears the words of a contestor, and instantly creens to see who spoke. "Bring forth this.." sneeringly, he pauses, and adds "Successor

Garjin spins quickly to look towards the owner of the booming voice behind him. His eyes wide, but this time in anger, not in fear. The large Uruk-Hai reaches quickly for the haft of his mace which he unhooks and brings up to his side. "Who are you to challenge the King's orders!"

Garjin spins quickly to look towards the owner of the booming voice behind him. His eyes wide, but this time in anger, not in fear. The large Uruk-Hai reaches quickly for the haft of his mace which he unhooks and brings up to his side. "Who are you to challenge the King's orders! Who is Hallog that thinks he deserves to follow mighty Zorugg?"

[Gnashbone(#10876)] A group of guards converge on the speaker, surrounding him. The largest of the group stands in front of Hallog, glowering, and says "C'mon, you. Stand and face the king." With those words, the guards begin jostling Hallog forward, towards the dais.

[<#2715>] Razzgrak looks towards Takursh, this unexpected even slightly unnerving. He speaks quickly and lightly "If ... ... ... ..., ... ... summon ... Lord, ... ... this .... ... ... ...!"

Vorshag hisses again like the hiss of a darting snake as his eyes fall on Halok. Old dislike burns in the eyes of the chieftan and he ducks back deeper int othe crowd as his black cloak rises around him like the wings of the bat that unfold to take flight. The the chieftan seems to vanish into the shadows by the far wall of this large and stately cavern

Razzgrak turns away from Takursh and heads down off the throne again "And by what right do I have my orders challenged from a cheiftian who has not shown the display of worthy courage and loyalty that Garjin has! Speak, maggot!" he exclaims.

Hallog flashes Garjin a sharp glance, in which he shows the serious extent of his propensity. With various other clinks and clanks he scuffles forward before the throne; such an unmodest aspiration as this nudges him on, but as transparent as a thin veil of smoke is his intent, and a nervous tendency to fidget does deal a servicable amount of incredulity to his claim.

Gnashbone shrinks into the shadows as the animosity around the dias increases. His eyes dart around, scanning the crowd to see if he has been noticed.

[Gnashbone(#10876)] The guards surround Hallog as he approaches the throne, their hands ready on their weapons. The guard leader looks to the King, waiting for further orders.

Razzgrak gives none, but look upon Hallog, alternating his gaze between Garjin and Hallog, contemplating this new situation.

[Drekhor(#27357)] A troubled look passes across Drekhor's pockmarked face, but soon disappears to become one of relief. A more oderous fart is conjured by the fat orc, silent and deadly as the one before. A cloud of malgested stench surrounds Drekhor much to the disgust of the snaga about him. Drekhor calmy observes the scene before him as he begins to pick his nose. Entertained to the max.

Gathunk me gets back as he sees the cloud start to drift toward one of the torches

[Hallog(#12422)] "As for worth," hisses the sibilant usurper Hallog, "what other than strength is it you're exactly prodding me for? Look on as I'll shove aside a meer lad like Garjin, or behead a surly guard and his cronies." Bombastic talk indeed, but what proportions as such sinewy shoulders and rising pectorals indicate, perhaps this claim be not so spurious.

Gnashbone coughs and gags as the odor of Drekhor's flatulence reaches his nostrils. Seeing several other snaga turn to look, he shuffles forward, into the firelight.

[Combat(#13388)] Drekhor : carefully places the scimitar in its sheath, carefully avoiding cutting open his fat belly.

[Takursh(#24742)] A grave look crosses Takursh's face as the king gives the most lethal of commands. He bows his head, and signals to two other robed figures standing near the wall. The three of them move over to another part of the throne room, and pick up two more shamans. Takursh rattles off some quick directions, and their eyes go wide with fear and excitement. As a group, they move to an area beside the throne, and clear a space. Each of them lowers to their knees, and hold their arms straight out in front of their bodies, forming a rough circle, with five reference points. The shamans begin to chant two words over and over again, increasing the volume as they go... "Ghash.... Duump.... Ghash.... Duump...." They chant with their eyes closed, never faltering.

The warrior -Hai remains standing before the dias, staring intently at the newcomer as Hallog is brought before the king. Garjin sees his mantle of authority placed over his head, but never fully deposited, as it is whisked away in a quick flash of audacity. "You dare to challenge my authority and skill? I have been taught by the mighty Warlord Zorugg himself. You would quickly perish under the weight of my mace, and cry for me to forgive your arrogance. You should fall to your knees and beg forgiveness to me and to my king, your king, the king of all Moria, and perhaps he will spare you a visit to the Fire-Beast.

[Razzgrak(#2715)] As the chant of the shamans linger in the air, their ancient words begin to sound fearful, oppressive. A Pall seems to be thrown over the cavern even as their chants get louder, and more fearful. These ancient sounds, commited to the breath of the feared sect- the Shamans, continues to rumble and echo around the noise of the cavern.

Gnashbone eyes fall upon the shamans, and he seems to be almost entranced by their chant. A stream of drool trickles out of the corner of his mouth, dripping on his leathers. His unblinking gaze stays affixed on them, and he seems to be unable to move at all.

Razzgrak stands back, and allows this to be contested, with the words "THen fight to see who is more worthy, and the winner alone can then claim the title!"

[Vorshag(#21290)] Sunddenly snaga begin to part as the large figure of the chieftan of the Burgapai begins to push through the crowd. His red eyes seem to burn in the torchlight as he suddenly stands before the dias and under the gaze of the king. Vorshag does not pause a moment before shouting in the dark and twisted words of uruks "They are both warriors! But who is greater! Only the Ghash knows. And so does a trial by the fire of the Balrog" Vorshag hisses softly as his words end

Drekhor shuffles forward a bit to get a better view. As if in sync, the torch above Drekhor begins to flare violently, as if encountering something combustible. Drekhor pulls his finger from his nose having discovered something wonderfully nutritious. Now sucking his finger, a look of great intent comes over his face as he observes the tableau before him.

Hallog's eyes race to visit Garjin's visage and interpret the emotions in that creature, where now the tensions rise but all appearances begin to simmer except for within where they wallow and grind, and Hallog looks on it all delicately.

The grey cloak is suddenly whisked into motion and a vicious black barbed mace emerges swiftly from the shadows underneath. Garjin brings the heavy mace up in a short fast arc intending to crush the ursurper's left knee.

You attack Hallog with your Mace...

Your attack against Hallog mildly wounds him!

Drekhor eye's light up with fire as he watches the two -hai fight.

Hallog whips his spear around where it juts out perilously at his contest. It's a naturally belligerent proclivity now that's turning his wheels and grinding him into motion; here he is lancing out with his spear and slashing at Garj's chest.

Hallog attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

Gnashbone's attention is diverted by the clashing of weapons. He watches the two combatants, acutely aware of his own lack of any weapons, or the skill to use one. His eyes seem to be almost spongelike, absorbing all that they are doing and storing it for later use.

Gorkon watches the foray with a bit of interest as he finally reaches the dais. Observing the combat, he mentally notes mistakes and what could have been done in a better fashion with less exposure.

Garjin feels the raking of the spearhead across his chest, cutting a line of links, then through to his skin underneath. With a howl of battle lust Garjin continues with the momentum of the swing and ducks low to again bring the heavy mace upon the wounded knee in an attempt to crush it utterly. The grey cloak flashing out behind him as the warrior spins cursing, "You will die today you treacherous fool! The fires of the Beast fuel my arm and nothing but death can help you escape my today. Skai!!"

You attack Hallog with your Mace...

Your attack against Hallog lightly wounds him!

[<#2715>] Razzgrak watches this fight with all the complacency of a weasel chasing it's prey. Sneering, he watches the Shamans and the fight of the two combatants carefully, and chants something in a low voice, almost whispering. "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he chants, raising his head towards the ceiling, almost in a trance.

[Hallog(#12422)] With a leap, Hallog crashes onto Garjin though propping his spear in front of him during the motion. It's a valiant attempt to say the least, as his eyes beg for success.

Hallog attacks you with his Spear!...

...and he hits! Ouch!

[Takursh(#24742)] The five shamans continue to chant in their circle, directed by Takursh. Their eyes are closed, and their arms are outstretched as they call to the darkness.

Gathunk me studies the chants of the shamans trying to remember them and thinking of a day when he is there offering praises of blood to the dark one

Drekhor laughs with pleasure at the sight of two -hai battling it out. He shouts, "I have 5 silver pennies on Hallog, the Challenger. Five silver pennies on Hallog to win. Who will take my bet!!"

[Mordamaz(#19028)] From the South a huge being slides across the floor towards the throne. The thing is surrounded in darkness that goes before it, making any details hard to see. Smell of sulfur slowly trickles into the room..

Razzgrak feels a shiver of some other, more powerful within the room and forces his eyes open quickly, suddenly, to behold a darkness lurking in the throne-room which he is most famliar with, and afarid of. Instantly he is upon his kneels, and calls out loudly, almost fearfully (and what king would be afraid of anything unless fear itself?) "KNEEL", in a voice loud and heavy with sudden emotion.

Fueled with the sounds of the endless chanting resounding throughout the room. The jab of the spear striking deep into the flesh beneath. A low growl emanates from the chest of the warrior Garjin which raises in pitch to the howl of pain and fury with which this Uruk-Hai was taught. Preparing to bring his massive mace into the head of the challenger, Garjin's corded muscles flex and knuckles turn white. A whooshing sound is heard and the shout of Razzgros causes Garjin to turn his head mid-swing. Garjin, however, allows the heavy black weapon to slide like darkness out of shadow towards the enemy regardless, though his eyes are not there to witness whether the blow lands or not.

Drekhor has a puzzled expression on his face as if trying to figure out where the horrid smell is coming from. He appears to concentrate real hard as if wondering if he has farted again. Drekhor shrugs and looks intently at the fight. When suddenly Razzgrak order comes to kneel, Drekhor with a look of horrid realization, immediately kneels. A tear comes on his face as he further realizes he will not win anything shiny today.

You attack Hallog with your Mace...

Hallog parries your attack with his Spear!

[Mordamaz(#19028)] Further into the room the heavy and solid darkness creeps. Slowly fine lines of flames unfold around the huge beast and the deadly weapon it holds in one claw. The beasts stops some way from the others in the room, it seems to open it's eyes and small sparks of fire rain over the room as the king shouts out his command. The Balrog glares in his direction silently.

Gathunk collapses to his knees once he notices the dark pressence

Gathunk falls to his face at the spraying fire

[Takursh(#24742)] The circle of shamans feel the terror creeping over their flesh already as the king shouts out the order. As they are all on their knees from chanting, they all simply turn to look at it, but most of them avert their eyes. Through fear unimaginable, Takursh keeps his gaze fixed of the darkness, his lips still moving in a silent version of the chant. He is awe-struck by the sight of the terror, or rather the lack of sight. Every sense in his body is screaming for his to run into the deepest darkest hole they could find, but they know that no hole is deep enough. He just looks on, mesmerized by the beast.

Gnashbone shudders at the appearance of the dark one, and falls to his knees. The drool begins to flow once again from his mouth, soaking the front of his leathers. He seems to be completely unable to stop looking at the beast, although every ounce of his being screams for him to lower his eyes.

Throgl shudders as a sudden wash of heat and sulfur whelms his senses. Turning slowly, the orc's eyes widen in sudden terror at the sight of the flaming demon creeping into the room. Throgl backs away into the snaga behind him, and realizes in sudden terror that his position behind the crowd at the dais was not so safe after all. Squealing, he darts away to the dark pillars and the vain, futile safety he sees there.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] Horror and hate fills the room as the beast comes closer. Feelings of total terror seem to be nearly physical in the throne room now as the presence of the Balrog comes clear to all...

Vorshag turns slowly as first the feeling of death washes over him like a wave of cold. Then the heat begins to burn and claw at his skin. The chieftan turns slowly and his eyes widen as he stares at the very being that fuels his evil and his very existance. The uruk-hai falls to his knees on the cold stone floor and his trembling lips hiss out a long hiss of terror. One hand rises to his face and claws at his skin as the deamon in on the uruk

Mordamaz moves forward without any sound. Her steps are long and leave a reddish trail on the stone where she has stepped down. Finally she comes to an stop very close to the snagas in front of the throne, and the King who himself is kneeling on the dias. She glances at the shamans, the face frowning slightly.

[Gnashbone(#10876)] As the other snaga recoil in fear from the Balrog, Gnashbone remains transfixed to the spot on the floor where he kneels. All else, the chanting of the shamans, the combat between Hallog and Garjin, is forgotten, as he stares at the beast from below. He is no longer drooling, and his eyes seem to gleam with malevolence as he watches the beast, even though he continues to shake with fear.

[Razzgrak(#2715)] Shivering with the heat and galled by the smell, the King nonetheless remains unmoving as the presence of hopelessness made flesh - and living enters the Throne room. Shuddering with terror, he nonetheless raises his head and looks expectantly towards the Balrog, that she might force her will to rule upon the now tattered proceedings between the two contestants of the Valnul tribe - who contest not only for the power and weight of the Cheiftain rank, but for the honour of serving what now has walked, terrible and mighty into the room.

The cloaked fighter feels his blow strike the slender wood of the spear, and fails to even glance back to protect his rear as the image of the fiery beast fills his sight and mind. The evil flames of red and black flash around the shadow, and the fear welling within him fills his very soul. Garjin turns his attention towards the greater evil inthe chamber and suddenly the words of his king sink in to his mind. He lets his knees falter and his body falls forward on them where he kneels motionless before the true master of Moria.

Razzgrak looks upon at the beast with an expectancy that a child eminates when he is about to recieve punishment of sorts.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] Snaking and hissing, the deadly whip emerges in the right claw of the beast. Rising the claw she slowly fixes it aim on the King and growls out, the voice low and rought, filled with hate and emitting terror as the beast speaks. "Report, Snaga King! What is this here?!

Mordamaz motions to the gathering of snagas and the two that were fighting as she speaks, but her eyes are steady down on Razz

Hallog nearly drops his spear, having used it to defend himself from Garj's mace just as this wicked Scourge appears. His face blanches, a ghastly, sort of spectral countenance to glance on, with a humbled look in his eyes. As for obeisance, it's not really as if he'd a choice in the matter, but rather that his knees failed, and a wobbly, disarmed Orc falls in an involuntary demonstration of cowardice which he undoubtedly meant to conceal as an act of felicity and good fortune.

Gnashbone shudders as the beast speaks, and he finally manages to move enough to drop his head to the floor, bowing in humility to the dark one.

Razzgrak speaks slowly, thinking out his words "Master!" he begins, "The rightful succesor to the Valnul Tribe, Garjin, has been forced to combat by the usurper who claims that the title of Valnul Cheiftain rests with him!" Pausing, he begins slowly to rise, almost to his haunches "That is what this has become. Garjin has shown himself thrice worthy of this honor, only 2 days ago arriving victorious from a battle with the hated enemies of the Wood!" Looking upon Hallog, he concludes "This one has shown nothing to me of his warrior skills, and nothing of his intelligence to allow me or you, master, to even look upon him without spitting!"

Hallog winces with a dour pout of his lips, and his shoulders shudder, not from Razzgrak's aspersions but from his perception of the consequence due to a usurping traitor, and especially since Razzgrak's creed is made known to this terrific pillar of leaping flames, whose notoriety well surpasses Hallog's own aptitude for self-comfort.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] A cold grin slowly emerges upon the face of the Beast, making the terrifying face even more hideous than usual. The black daggerlike fangs glitter in the red light that the balrog provides, dripping acid salvia down to the stonefloor. She slowly averts her eyes to look down on the one who is described as the worthy one but looks away from him without any hint of interest towards the other one, Hallog. Growl, low in the beginnig but growing stronger as the beast glares at the kneeling Uruk that tried to seize the power for himself. The growl is silenced by a cold laughter, so cold and so filled with hate as the beast toys with ideas of how to deal with this snaga...

The warrior the king favours feverently wishes he were anywhere else at the moment as every ounce of reason in his body screams to flee, but his mind sees nothing but terror and the muscles are locked in fear. Garjin's eyes are the only part of him that displays the fire within him. They display a strong, wise and resiliant leader, cowed into submission by the flames and fury of Durin's Bane.

You paged Aiona with 'Now I'm cowed in terror of the Balrog and awaiting her to smash the ursurper. We will all be free soon. ;) I promise that you will get some RP tonight. (I am still at work though and it takes me an hour to get home) I will have to connect when I get back home too. ;)'.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] The laught stops abruptly and the beast brings up the whip with an amazing speed and down again, it lands right on the stone in front of Hallog's face, spreading sparks all over his body. Growling and grunting the beast grabs up the great flaming sword with it's left claw and with it raised, she spits out at the kneeling uruk. "Prepare!

Razzgrak looks upon the spectacle motionless, his fiery, beedy eyes poking from their sockets to watch the display about to occur.

Gnashbone cringes at the beast's words, too afraid to look up and hoping that he remains unworthy of the dark one's attention.

Gathunk slowely looks up to see what his master will do with the –hai

As the sparks fly just scant feet from Garjin's face, the last bit of resolve fades from the Uruk-Hai's eyes. A fearful form hunches down, cowering in fear of the beast before him.

Takursh is still captivated as he rests on his knees. His eyes are affixed to the dread force before him, and he continues to stare, still weakly mouthing the words to his chant, though no sound comes forth.

Mordamaz eyes shift from the 'coward' and towards the one that has been praised by the King. She stares at his skull for few seconds while licking her lips. Finally, she moves. Pokes Garjin with the flaming greatsword onto one shoulder and she barks at him as the sword touches him. "Rise and show your worthyness. Turn that snaga around while the dog shall be dealt with!

Hallog utters raggedly under his breath, perhaps but a short selection of words amounting to little, where he cowers in his plight. Neither obedience nor propriety but rather a reaffirming sense of ungratifying fearfulness is how his face reads from eyes to lips of that dastardly Orc who shrinks away from the vitriolic look of Mordamaz.

You see a shudder pass through the body of Garjin as the tip of the scorching blade touches his shoulder. The booming words sinking in through the haze of fear behind his eyes. Slowly the great warrior stands before the beast feeling the eyes of the dreaded beast of fire burning into him. With his eyes lowered, partly from respect and partly from his determination not to lose what courage he has, he turns towards the ursurper and begins to feel warmed inside as the hatred returns to his limbs at the sight of Hallog. Garjin's pace quickens as he reaches down and grips the mangy hair of the challenger and lifts him from the floor, his corded muscles tensing and his reddened eyes dripping hatred at the unfortunate soul. Quickly turning Hallog around so that his face is towards the beast, Garjin stands behind him, holding him aloft despite his trembling knees.

Razzgrak smiles grimly as the Balrog bides her time, living off the very fear of those in the cavern.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] While waiting and watching the two Snagas, the balrog slides the flaming sword back into it's resting place, now the only weapon in her hands is the snaking whip that never leaves her claws. The terror keeps building up in the chambers as the beast awaits her time..

Gnashbone forces his head up a fraction, allowing himself to gaze upon the unfolding scene. His black eyes narrow as he sees Hallog dangled in front of the dark one, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly to see someone else suffering. The smile fades instantly, although his gaze remains transfixed on the events in front of him.

[Vorshag(#21290)] A wracking shudder runs through Vorshag's body as he watches the fate of the two uruk-hai. Sweat runs freely down his dark face and his hand grasps like a claw at the flagstones in front of him. Fear runs through his veins like ale..But also a dark curiousity at the evil and vileness of the deamon compared to his own. A thin line of spit runs from the corner of his mouth and down his face and neck

Hallog quivers and quails, but should not dare to bail. Why, this Orc hasn't even the courage to look Garjin in the eye, for he does not count dishonor among his fears. He trembles and shakes there before Orkish peers and a fiery demon, with a such a look on his face as if he's to burst alight by touch or spell, consumed in a conflagration whose pertinence is perhaps unrealized yet, though the sweat and tears sluicing down his face testify that he's already marked for disaster.

[Mordamaz(#19028)] The balrog moves slowly, obviously enjoying and taking pride in her work. With one black arm lined in fire she reaches forward, slips a claw between the unfortunate Uruk and his chain and simply cuts off the chain from the body with one fast movement. Once the chest of the Uruk is exposed in front of the Beast she yet again licks the black lips, the red eyes narrowing as she makes her next move...

Razzgrak stares upon the terror of the balrog, transfixed by the action and pure, almost malleable evil which the Balrog weaves around the folds of it's black covering which seems to form the shape of some giant, powerful God of merciless, nefarious attitude. A whimpering moan breathes from the Kings lips as this Being starts it's own ceremony to rip apart the threads of life which Hallog clings to.

Mordamaz snickers lowly and continutes. The arm slowly moves again, the tips of the claws held tightly together as if the beast plans to dig into the chest of the black uruk that is held aloft in front of her. "Die, Snaga!" she growls as the claws drill into his chest, dissapears and returns with a heart, black and spilling and pumping the last of black fluids as it beats madly against the hand that has removed it. Thriumphantly the Balrog rises the heart into the air and growls before lowering the hand yet again, "See this Snaga!". Finally, she rips out a bite from the black thing in her hand, the salvia and black blood leaking down her chin

Gathunk smiles grimly as his master begins to tortorously kill the Hai, but has a very brief fleeting thought about not actually getting to see truly who of these two is the best warrior...then continues to watch the hai slowely die...

The fear is very evident in the eyes of the once-mighty Garjin. His knuckles white around the mace held unconsciously at his side. The sweat from his face is both cold with fear and hot with the heat of the nearby flames as his blood is boiling in anger at the challenger yet his veins are iced with terror of the great beast. As the chain falls from the body of Hallog before him, Garjin ceases any and all movement as he sees the fury and terror bared there in the eyes of the behemoth before him. When the Balrog reaches forward again, Garjin feels the body before him tense then shudder and quake under his hands. When the beast removes the filthy heart from the corpse, the husk falls lifeless from Garjin's hand as Garjin gazes upon the great master of Moria with renewed fear and terror.

[Gnashbone(#10876)] As he watches the balrog devour the heart, Gnashbone is consumed by fear redoubled. His eyes never leave the scene, as he is incapable of moving a muscle, and he barely manages to avoid soiling himself.

Vorshag is simply unable to look away as the lifeblood of the uruk-hai runs into the mouth of the deamon to sizzle and boil in its stomach. The chieftan then raises his eyes in a slow spiraling gaze directly at the eyes of the massive beast.The evil of the thing compelling him and drawing his eyes foreward over the body of the slain -hai. And then a slow trickle of black blood begins to run from the corner of Vorshag's left eye..As if staring at this creature is just to much. As if the heat and evil of this creature has permeated his very being

Mordamaz turns towards the King once she has consumed the heart, her eyes narrowed exposing yet more bloodlust. She stares for few seconds, an eternity it seems in the terrorfilled cavern. Finally the beast spits out, "This way you shall deal with dogs, Snaga King!". She glares once again over the scene, the lifeless body still hanging in Garjin's grasp, who perhaps holds him only by fear by now, fear of failing. Then she turns and strides away, her steps long and silent. Finally the Darkness and the feeling of horror leaves the chambers. The Balrog is gone.

Razzgrak nods silently towards the Balrog, and begins to rise from off of his knees. Shaken, he turns to Garj, and as the creeping fear leave the cavern, proclaims "Garjin! Tribal Cheiftain of the Valnul!" in a voice still shaken with the terror the Balrog holds.

Gathunk looks around to make sure the Dark One is gone then finally gets up.

Takursh breaks from his gaze as though shocked, and hears the King re-proclaim Garjin. For emphasis, he echoes the shout, "Garjin, Valnul Chieftain!" He makes his way toward teh doors now, satisfied with the proceedings.

Vorshag hisses very slowly as his eyes fall grom the deamon as its shadow melts away. Now a cold numbing fills the chieftan and he wipes away the trickle of blood. He then manages to rise and glances around for any sign of the deamon. He then slowly begisn to move across the great cavern today the massive arch with a deffinate limp on his left leg that did not seem to be there before

As the conflagerating terror vacates the chamber, Garjin's strength and resolve returns. The stunning scene before him now seeming like a one-sided battlefield with the absence of the black beast. As Garjin turns again towards the king, his words sink in, as does those of the others. Garjin has been chosen, chosen by the great beast itself. The cloaked chieftain of the Valnul kicks the husk of the being before him, a slight grin sliding across his sweaty face exposing the yellowed teeth within.

Jekroz moves away from the Throne Room.

Jekroz has left.

[Gnashbone(#10876)] With great effort, Gnashbone pushes himself off of the floor, his hands slick with his own sweat, the stench of fear still in his nostrils. He looks all around the throne room, humbled by the entire experience. His eyes finally rest on the assembled shamans, a hunger lurking behind his gaze.

Takursh moves away from the Throne Room.

Takursh has left.

Gathunk moves away from the Throne Room.

Gathunk has left.

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