Atri'el feels the early light of dawn beat down upon her and the joking stench of Garjin before her, waking her from a restless night of dreams and thoughts with little rest, if any were possible the way she has been tied up. She is very weak, her throat dry, her lips cracked. She is beyond pain, she feels numb. She still fights, her spirit is strong and her mind sharp. She forces her eyes open to the comforting light, forces herself to continue to watch and calculate as she looks down at the vile creature before her boldly, still defient.

[Takursh(#24742)] Sitting up from his place at the base of the log, Takursh looks over to see Garjin watering the prisoner. A sour frown creeps across his face and down towards his chin as he views this. He slowly moves over towards the post, stringing his spear to his back again as he goes, and slides his shield off of his arm. When he is near enough to Garjin, he speaks low, not intending for Atri'el to hear, "I was... unaware; unaware that she had earned that. Has she told you something I have not heard?" Takursh folds hims arms over, and stands there with a cold gaze, looking back and forth between Garjin and Atri'el.

With a fast backhand, Garjin whirls bringing his hard weathered knuckles against the jaw of the torturer. "Fool!" he shouts. "We can not keep our spy hanging there until she dies. Only until she speaks of her mission. A dead spy will do us no good. Or were you so stupid that you didn't see she was a spy!" He tilts his head back with a loud bellow of laughter. "She must be good then if even the Grand Inquisitor was fooled!"

Bilkec grumbling over his inability to find anything to kill the sun hears angry words and smiles. Something has turned the day into bright fighting. With attentive ears he walks closer to the comotion.

[<#24742>] Takursh is staggered slightly as the blow hits him in the face, but rolls with it. When he turns his head back towards Garjin, his stare is icey, and a muscle is jumping on his jaw. After a moment of staring at the -hai, Takursh speaks slowly, in controlled words, "<Uruk> A spy. You mean to tell me that this, " He waves his hand towards Atri'el, "<Uruk> Is a spy? If she is, then she is indeed a good one, yet what makes you sure she is? I see no love of orcs in her eyes. She bares nothing but malice!" Takursh lets the last word out as a hiss, and keeps his lips parted slightly. "<Uruk> I haven't got time to extract information from spies that are supposdto give it up freely! If she is to be a spy, someone ought to tell her what one is!"

Atri'el smirks slightly as she watches Garjin's backhand meet Takursh's jaw with a crack. She turns her attention to Garjin with new interest, no longer interested in Takursh as she sees he has not the power nor intelegence for her to waste energy on.

Bilkec smiles at the altercation and finds a suitable position to view the action. He gazes at the human woman and is repulsed by the ugly thing. Female orcs certainly are more attractive. He eye's the Hai to guage his response to the Grand Inquisitor.

Ever so slowly, a scowl creeps across the -Hai's face, barring his rotting teeth in the process. Garjin turns his back to Atri'el and moves his face nearly nose to nose with Takursh. The manling prisoner can see the bristles on the back of his neck rise at the threat of battle. With a whispered voice he speaks to the Uruk. "Yer had better learn to spot good spies when you see 'em. The whole reason she is a good spy is that she does not want to give up the information, thus she can not be turned out by her people. One must draw the information out of good spies, for she is still loyal and wishes not to betray them. She only does so for reasons you and your feeble snaga mind could never understand. Let this one be and I will draw the information from her." Then the larger caped being stares a moment longer into the eyes of the Inquisitor as if to gauge him and his thoughts, then without a word, turns back to the prisoner. Then with a slow and practiced eye, he looks over the assembled orcs to see if there exists any whom threaten him.

Bilkec stiffles a grin as the Inquisitor has been soundly insulted. He takes a step back and watches the Takursh's facial response for any evidence of attack. He glances back at the Hai and thinks of him in battle. The thought chills him. He cannot take down the Hai. Not yet anyway. His attention drifts back to spy and he taps the mace absentmindedly.

[<#24742>] Takursh tilts his head down until the shadow of his helm covers his eyes. They narrow to thin red slits as he stands there, brooding. Without a further word he turns toward his tent with a violent force, sending his cloak sailing out to the side. He stalks toward his tent in silence, taking even, pointed steps. When he arrives there he throws the tent flap open, and disappears inside uneventfully. Wihin seconds, a small snaga comes running out of the tent, as a piece of raw meat flies out behind him.

Atri'el closes her eyes as a sharp spasm of pain flows through her body. She opens them slowly, scanning the camp again for Morgana to see her state. Unalble to see her she trusts that she is safe before she returns her attention to Garjin, then flows her eyes across those gathered to see the effect of his words and the proposition of the idea he presents to them. She strains to remain concious as she listens, appaled at such a thought, but then an idea forms in her mind, a realization as she again closes her eyes.

From afar, Atri'el continues to pose her thoughts sordove cause she can't do them entirely or else it would effect others reactions ic

Bilkec is amused as he watches the inquisitor storm out. His dignity and autority soundly challenged. He stares at the Hai and the averts his eyes, trying to avoid the Hai wanting to confront him. He tries to look interested in the local dirt and puts some space between them.

Seeing the prisoner's eyes close, the -Hai brings his hand back and slaps the prisoner with a resounding *smack* sure to both bring her about, and to show to his kindred that there is no love there. Garjin then steps close to the bound prisoner, a stench of his breath wafting upon her. With his heavy accent he speaks in Westron in a whispered voice to the prisoner,"You would be wise to listen to what I have said. As I can save your worthless skin, so can I even easier take it away. You are nothing to me unless a spy. That requires you giving us information, and the longer you hold out, the longer you will rot out here in the blasted sun, burning your skin and drying your eyes. Ska! Your pain will end soon either way, by the flames of the Balrog."

Merlyn screetches as he flys into the area, circling high in the air as he smells blood, his eyes darting over the orcs before focusing on Atri'el.

Bilkec smug smile suddenly crystalizes into a single thought as to the Hai's intentions. He nods with renewed interest and wanders around aimlessly. At least that is what he hopes others will think. At all times he is in earshot of the proceedings and to what is actually going on. He bends down to examine some worthless mineral and eyes the Hai.

Atri'el bites her lip, clenching her teeth as a sharp pain emanates throughout from Garjin's cruelty. She hears Merlyn's cry above and it gives her strength, opening her eyes and squinting upward to make out his shadow circling in the sky. She turns her head slightly, looking down at Garjin, her eyes revealing the pain she is suffering for a brief moment before they are quickly sheilded in a cold and malicious fury. She listens to what he says and chuckles softly to herself.

Atri'el thinks of her home, thinks of her clan. Many thoughts are passing through her mind as she debates inwardly the outcome of what she is about to do.

Bilkec tosses the useless mineral aside and mutters to himself. He walks a short distance and spots another useful sample and bends down to examine this one. He looks for a long moment at the human. The eyes are compelling. There is more depth to this one than he has previously imagined. Turning his gaze skyward he wonders what the connection between these two are.

Merlyn spys a large chunk of meat thrown recklessly to the ground outside one of the tents. He shifts his wings slightly sending him diving down upon it, sinking his talons into the luxurious meal and lifting it to a nearby tree to feast.

An understanding of her pain is enough to turn up the corners of the aggressors maw, and a slight dimming of the flames behind the warrior's eyes. With a knowing nod, he again turns his gaze over those observing orcs in the camp who have ceases their usual chatter and gnawing on bones to watch what unfolds. Across the quiet of the camp, Garjin announces in Westron for the profit of the ears of the prisoners should they be listening. "None shall kill or harm that one..." he swings his arm around in an arc and points to the woman bound to the post behind him, "but I or another higher ranking without feeling the pain of my rage! Ska! I will kill any of you who tries to kill my spy!" With that said, Garjin storms off to a distant set of tents housing the warriors of the Valnul tribe as depicted by the red flames painted upon the canvas in the blood of their victims.

Bilkec stands and walks to the prisoner. As he moves he discards another useless mineral and eyes the human as he approaches. His steps are deliberate and quick. He stops a short distance away and observes the human, He pays close attention to the eyes. Some time passes before he speaks and when he does it is slow and metered. "I think you are not to be trusted. If it weren't for the bull head Hai, you'd prolly be dead...But I don't think you should be anything but dead. Only the medicine woman should be kept." He stands back and glances at the Hawk. "What is the connection with you and this animal?" He does not expect a reaction but the question is voiced none the less.

Atri'el's eyes follow Garjin back to the tent before she turns her attention to Bilkec. She studies him for a moment, a malicious grin forming on her lips. She again glances around for Morgana has the orc mentions her but can not find her , more assured of her welfare at Bilkec's words. She looks over to Merlyn as he is perched, devouroring his meal in a nearby tree and speaks softly "I found him when he was a hatching, fallen injured out of the nest"

After a long pause and a few hours later.......

[Takursh(#24742)] Dark megalithic mounds of clouds move sluggishly across the sky, pelting the ground with chill rain far below. The ground has absorbed a lot of water, making it squish underfoot and make a sucking noise when a boot is lifted. Thunder echoes softly off the face of the mountains, rumbling across and through the Dunland forests. A bolt of lightning pierces the darkness, followed by a crash of thunder. In the breif superbrilliance of the light, a form is to be seen, that was hiding on the perimeter of the orcish camp. In the grey light of storm, the form moves off around the edge of the camp, and then out into the trees, moving a branch as it enters the thick woods. The woods fall silent, and the semi-silence of the camp prevails, as yet another bolt lights the sky, and brings the rumble of thunder to your ears.

In the distance you can see through the unending rain, a caped and hooded figure of a large Uruk emerges. He proceeds through the gloom, only the faintest hints of red emitting from his eyes. The water sheets off his cloak, the sun only barely lighting the sky through the thick clouds. The figure approaches the prisoner across the fire-pit and stops before it. Speaking in a quiet voice unheard above the din of the storm he addresses the chained and slumped figure.

[Traek(#21062)] Another shrill clash of thunder sounds about the land as yet another luminous bolt of lightning streaks towards the ground, striking a nearby tree and setting it ablaze with its fury. Moments pass as the flames flare up with great strength but are quickly drowned out by the now torential rains cascading towards the ground, the bright hues of oranges and reds soon fade as the fire dies down, leaving only a blackened stump where the mighty oak once stood, another casualty in the wake of the storm. In all the chaos a figure lurks silently about in the woods, making no noise at it moves save the sloshing of its feet alone in the soggy mess of dirt and grass that makes up the ground. The figure darts in and out of the shadows as it draws ever nearer to the clearing and the orc camp, though staying wary of danger as is shown in its stealthy approach.

[<#24742>] The first shadowy figure steps back out of the woods, parting the brush with a long spear. The figure stands there for some time, allowing the water to ring on his helmet, running down the edge to dribble upon his shoulders. A dark cloak is covering his shoulders, and is held clasped tightly in the front against the chilly spring storm. As another bolt of lightning arcs toward the misties, it catches the glint of the water running off of the tip of his spear. This form watches the camp from the perimeter, sweeping a firey gaze along the border, and the interior, very wary after the earlier encounter with the unknown Uruk-Hai. He relaxes the hand holding the cloak shut, and it opens a bit, not much, allowing the rain to run down onto his chain armor beneath. He moves the hand down to his left thigh, and massages it as though it bore a wound. He mutters to himself in his foul tounge, "<Uruk> ... snaga will pay..."

The figure stands there speaking to the prisoner for a long few minutes, words unheard to the few orcs still out in the beautiful storm. Lighting flashes reassure you that the Uruk-Hai in grey is still standing before the slumped prisoner.

[Traek(#21062)] Like wind, the figure moves swiftly about in the underbrush, leaving the faint rustle of leaves as the only sign of its pressence. With another bright flash of distant lightning and the ever present clash of thunder, the figure continues to move about towards the clearing, rain constantly pelting the shadowy shape, though apparently not hindering its swift motions. Mere seconds now pass as it encloses upon the field, resting now only a mere bowshot away from a lone Orc, its hideous form glinting of the eyes of the man as he watches through the brush, a grim grin stretches across his drenched face as he watches.

[<#24742>] A particularly bright bolt of lightning smashes into a rock dangerously close to the camp, sending chunks of minerals flying about in all directions. When your eyes return to normal after the blinding light, the form that stood on the tree line stands there no more. Minutes pass, and there is still no obvious sign of the shadowy form. Without warning he appears again, this time about 30 degrees south along the roughly circular perimeter, but still on the tree line. It stands for a moment, gazing about, and then moves slowly along theedge of the clearing, in the same direction.

Garjin stands before you, silently demanding your attention. Without moving so much as an arm, he gently speaks to her. "We have now captured yet another of your people, one whom I believe you know. We have her in my tent, as my tribe has captured her. Her fate lies in your decision I fear. You and i know which it has to be." Garjin slowly turns and surveys the camp during the brief flashes of light. Turning back to his prisoner he speaks again. "Her name is Sheelagh and she will perish along with you this night shall your decision not be made tonight."

Atri'el closes her eyes as the rain beats down upon her. It flows over her, washing away much of the dried blood staining her clothes and making her into a red mess. She cherishes it's coolness as it flows over her. Her eyes flash open as a bright lightning bolt touches down a short distance from her and she moves her eyes frantically to a sky for a moment before she clears her mind and calms down, thinking of an old rhyme her mother use to sing to her as a child during the frightful storms. She does not correct herself in calling the woman her mother for in her mind she is although she now knows she does not share her blood. Soft and fearful eyes turn to Garjin as she hears his harsh voice utter a familiar name adding a new urgencing to his threats. She had not expected it and it is awhile before she is able to again shield her eyes and her emotions from him, cursing to herself for the exposure.

[Traek(#21062)] The bright flash of light momentarily startes the unseen figure, taking precious time do regain himself, though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked as the Orc seems to have vanished from his sight, no where is it to be seen. A low the man sounds as he dashes nimbly forwards, drawing ever closer to the clearing, ever closer to danger. Small, pale green eyes peer out from the darkness, watchful eyes that survey the field with great care, scanning for any sign of the figure he notted earlier and upon spying just such a creature only a small distance away, he smiles crookedly and dashes back into the underbrush. The figure disappears without trace, lost to the rain and thunder for many moments, only to reappear again, but now at a dangerous distance from the lone Orc, his breathes heavy but strong as he readies himself, his eyes watching and waiting for his chance with great patience as he continues to bare the storm.

[<#24742>] The rains hammerson Takursh as he stands yet on the edge of the clearing, again observing the perimeter. His head rotates fiirst left, then right, scanning the camp. Activity is low in the rain, but the guards are still active. Perhaps it is a shadow, perhaps an animal, but something catches the edge of his gaze just as he is shifting it away. A slight shift in the trees, a branch bending in the wind; or is it? Takursh frowns, and mutters again "<Uruk> Damn snagas better not be foolin around on my watch..." He leans lightly on his spear, and watches carefully for a repeat of the motion, but sees only the erratic swaying of trees in the shifting winds. He shrugs, and moves along the perimeter toward the point, just to be sure. He leaves a trail of deep foot prints behind him, which wuickly fill with water afterwards.

Garjin sees the recognition in her eyes, so the woman did not lie. Perhaps he had the hook he needed now, he only needs to win her confidence that is somewhat honorable. Again looking about the camp he leans in close to the prisoner. "I can let you see her, but only if you agree to our terms. Else there will be much blood spilt upon this muddy soil tonight." Garjin looks about the camp carefully, noting the snagas that are present so any tales can be traces back to their source. With practiced ease, however, the snagas go about their duties, but all the while hearing the conversation. Turning back to the soaked woman, he says, "Come, speak now and I will tend to both you and your sister. Remain silent this night, and you will remain silent for all your days until the worms eat the flesh from your broken body."

[Traek(#21062)] A faint glimmer of light makes itself known within the trees as the minute tip of an arrow-head reflects the light of nearby lightning, then without warning, it vanishes into nothingness, no sign of the arrow can be seen, nor the shape that wielded it. Mere moments pass as the storm continues on, the arrow that shined now moves swiftly towards its target, twirling uncontrolably through the mists of the rain, the brush of the forest as it draws ever closer to its mark. To the lone Uruk the arrow sails towards, with great speed does it move, but with great accuracy, only time can tell...

[<#24742>] Rain drives on the arrow as it sails, and pushes it low of its mark, causing it to thumk into a low log just in front of Takursh. With a start, Takursh leaps forward and over the log, charging in the direction the arrow came from, hoping to find the launcher before it can reload and fire again. Crashing though the brush with his spear raised, he keeps his voice silent, thinking to have eh kill to himself.

[Traek(#21062)] Disappointment is all that reveals itself in the eyes of the archer, a cold chill look that does not fade, only grows with time. Another luminous flash of lightning crashes hastily down upon the tortured land, followed soon after by the perpetual clash of thunder. Though these things the figure does not torment his mind with, only the wretched sight of the Goblin closing swiftly in on his position, a flash of visions racing through his mind as the creature draws nearer, twisted spear in hand and the look of death firmly entrenched within its eyes. Feal now overwhelmes the man as he hurridly readies another arrow into position, holding the string taut for only a moment before letting loose its furry upon the creature.

Atri'el looks down at Garjin, her eyes softer as she listens to his taunts. She looks off towards the tent where her sister must lay and wonders at her state. Her mind is frantic, she is unable to concentrate wholely. The storm crashes about her adding an urgency to her decision, each thunder crack echoing through her mind. She loves her sister, how could she allow any harm to come to her? She searches back again and wonders if she can still accomplish her original goal. It would no longer simply put her at risk, but now her sister as well. Her actions would now decide both of their fates, perhaps there is a way she thinks to herself. She shakes her head slowly to clear her mind and focuses but is unable to. Faintly she says "as you wish" her voice hoarse, almost a whisper and barely audible over the storm.

A thin smile creeps across the warrior Garjin's face, unseen by any, as he knows that the victory is his. He pulls a fierce curved blade dagger from within the folds of his cloak which he slowly brings up to the rope bindings above the prisoners head. This forcing him close enough to her that again, his putrid breath wafts over her, even through the wind and rain of the storm. As water courses down his raised arms revealing deeply muscled arms, covered with a light grey matted pelt. With a quick turn from his sharp blade, he slices through the womans bonds. The woman falls to the ground, and Garjin looks down to her. "You will now do as I say Atri'el." using her name for the first time, "for your the rest of your family's lives depend on you now. Fail me not, and you and your family will not be killed. Fail me and all your family and race will by put to the sword. I am one to be feared, for I keep my word"

Takursh. The impact sets a howl to burst forth from his lips, but the poorly crafted Dunland arrow does not break down the fine work of the Morian smiths. The armor holds, and Takursh catches a glimpse of the attacker hiding out in the brush. He charges again, this time with a target in mind, directly towards Traek, holding his spear at waste level, in both hands, like a ram. He bellows at the man in his twisted speech,

Atri'el falls to the ground with a harsh thump. She bites her lip to avoid shouting out in pain. Her shoulders begin a sharp throb, as she instinctively rolls them, the muscles in harsh spasm from the many days of confinement. She feels as though her body could not move, she is weak, all she longs for is sleep but she forces herself to concentrate as she looks up at Garjin above her in spite before a thin smirk forms on her lips as she turns her head away and to the ground, shield from view. She instinctively begins to rub her wrists, the ropes having dug into them almost cutting off circulation. She clenches her fingers painfully into fists as she remains slumped in a pitiful clump on the ground.

[Traek(#21062)] Rain continues to tumble with great speed and force towards the forests of Dunland, showing no sign of ceasing, nor does it show any sign of gaining any more intensity, providing som, but little, relief to the already drenched land. The rain glidles smoothly off the great mail of the assailing Uruk, the beads of moisture scintillating faintly in the fading light of the storm, giving the creature a more loathsome appearance than it already retains. The spear, though, of which it carries gives off an ominous glow in the rain as it barrels down on the man, giving the figure little or no time for another blind shot in the darkness. The bow is now cast down and a dagger is drawn from a small sheath, the dull blade barely noticeable in the man's hand as he side-steps the attack, though not yet retaliating against the Orc, simply stands motionless and watches, a shadow against the darkness of the forest.

Garjin reaches down while the prisoner is still limp and graps her by the back of her jerkin, holding the soaked garment tight in his grasp. During a brief flash of lightning, the captor believes he sees the glint of freedom and hope cross the manling's eyes, his grip clenches accordingly and another strong claw-like hand grips her by her arm and forces her forward through the mud and the driving rain. Behind them the chain with the short thong of rope sways in the strong wind, clanking gently against the wooden post. As the muddy ground leaves obvious footprints to indicate the path the prisoner was led, the two pass through the darkening skies to the camp further back.

[Takursh(#24742)] As Traek stands idle Takursh whips about to face him, holding his spear at ready, waiting for the man to counter. When he doesn't, Takursh adjusts his grip on his spear, and speaks in the crude common tounge, "Drop that needle, snaga. It'll do ya no good. Yer coming with me, and we're gonna have a little chat." Takursh stands there with his spear held lightly in his grip at waste level, expecting the man to surrender in favor of his life.

[Traek(#21062)] Deep green eyes peer out from the shadowy figure, piercing the darkness and focusing clearly upon the vile creature. No sound does the figure make, simply watches, the dull blade of the dagger glinting faintly in the storm-light, though flashing swiftly to life as lightning once again crashes towards the ground, sparking a nearby tree. The dagger moves with remarkable speed towards the Goblin as the figure is upon it within moments, the bright flash aiding in its assualt. The dagger now slashes violently at the Orc's head from the side, the gnarled teeth upon the blade waiting for blood to spill, waiting for the kill that might be...

Garjin marches his prisoner to the small collection of tents that make up the Valnul camp. As their feet squish through the thick mud, more details become apparent to the prisoner. The tents seem to be made of both skins and cloths, with various sizes and shapes being represented. One common mark between the dwellings is the large painted emblems of fire drawn in red. These markings appear to be running down the tents as the blood becomes fluid once again in the rain, staining the fabric. Garjin leads the woman to one of the larger tents and pulls aside the flap and leads the prisoner in, out of the cold wet air. The smell of burning wood fills the area, and for the first time in days, a comforting warmth washes over you. The room is sparse, with a fire-pit in the floor of the tent, and a mattress of dry straw. Pieces of meat hang from the cross members reminding you of your hunger. The only other item of note is the heavy iron chain and the rings attached to it, driven with a massive stake deep into the ground. The room is otherwise empty.

Atri'el stumbles as she forces herself another step further and into the large tent. She looks around, taking in the details instinctively. Her eyes grow very cold as she sees that her sister is not present and she turns defiently towards Garjin, bold as she draws on every ounce of strength left in her frail body to stand before him, raising herself to her full hieght ignoring the pain that results. She looks at Garjin, making eye contact "where is my sister" she says, her voice still hoarse but strong in it's intent.

Garjin smiles a tight smile at her apparent ferocity and meerly points to the chains in the center of the room. "She will be brought once you have been secured and have eaten. Have no concerns, she is here and in good health. Now do as instructed as we will get on with your..reunion" You do note that the Uruk-Hai, while having a thick accent, speaks the common tongue well.

Atri'el continues to stand before you for a moment before noding a slight nod. Her eyes are still bold but she seems to consent a little to her present situation. She looks around the tent again then turns back to you "aye, but you have yet to instruct me" she says looking up at your eyes again as she awaits the response.

Garjin looks to the woman with many thoughts running through his mind. "Come, we will secure you here and then you may eat while I bring your sister." The warrior leads you to the chains in the center of the floor, which as you approach, notice that the chains have forged cuffs, too big for your wrists with sturdy looking locks upon the black metal. "Put the leg irons on yer feet then I will get you food." The locks seem simple enough, yet much to sturdy to break.

Garjin looks deep into the scout's eyes and with carefully paced words. "Would you let me run free within your camp? I think not. Do not make this more difficult or your sight of your sister's health may not be as hale as I had first thought. You will obey, and you will chain yourself." Garjin stands there and looks upon the proud woman standing there defiant in her torn wet shirt and bloodied leg. Suddenly a bellow of eerie laughter escapes the Uruk-Hai, for it is not a humorous laughter, but one of peculiar evil.

[Atri'el(#26887)] A chill flows through her as the creature laughs. She again looks down to the chains and smirks as she turns towards them, nodding inwardly to Garjin's reaction to her bold statement. She bends down carefully with much pain, placing the locks on her ankles slowly as she methodically inspects them as she does so, running her fingers over the locks. The locks close around her loosely, still giving her room to move her ankles about but unabling her to escape. She sits on the ground, her back against the stake as she looks towards the still hungry storm outside of the tent.

Garjin pulls down some food from the rafter and hands it to his prisoner, with more gentleness than he is accustomed to. His appraising eye still scanning the woman and the security of the cuffs, as she takes the piece of meat from him. He turns from the scout and quickly stalks from the tent. After a short while he returns with another figure in tow. This woman has a torn garment and a blackened eye. Other bruises can be seen adorning her arms from some scuffle or another. This is your sister, and she looks at you and your injuries and tries to run to you, but is held back by the larger Uruk. With a strong voice, Garjin speaks in accented common, "Your fates are now tied again together. For one to survive the other must obey, and for the other, the one must obey. I will not tolerate any difficulties, and will take your lives in a moment if I must. Else I could turn this one," he shakes your sister by her arm, "over to the Inquisitor and have you watch her treatment and know that it was your own doing!" As long as she remains with us, and you obey your orders, you will both leave here alive. But fail! Ska! Then you will both lie in the mud of the earth here until you rot."

Atri'el looks up at her sister with love and smiles reasuringly. She could never be the result of such harm as her eyes flow over the bruises and shallow cuts upon her. She diverts her attention back to Garjin, her eyes quickly changing as she looks at the creature before her that holds her life momentarily in his hands. "let her go and I will do as you wish" she says matter of factly.

Garjin looks into the eyes of the scout prisoner with his embers for eyes, and he speaks quietly, almost gently though with a harsh accent, "We will see of yer loyalty first. Then I might consider such a thing. For now she stays with us. Her treatment depends on you. Perform and that will happen soon enough. Now," Garjin turns and passes the woman through the doorway to waiting arms on the other side of the tent flap. A brief struggle and a cry of your name can be heard through the flaps, but it is soom muffled and you hear no more but the pounding rain of the evening. "Now it is time for sleep. We will converse more tomorrow evening, as it is getting light soon and rest is in order. Sleep well, for you will need it." With that, he shouts in a gutteral voice through the tent walls, and another Uruk comes in and sits just inside the tent flap, armed with a wicked looking scimitar. This one has hate and spite burning you from it's eyes. And it appears to take it's duties seriously, as it would rather slay you than keep you. Garjin turns to his pile of straw in the corner and then turns his back to you. His cape covers him and you soon hear the sounds of regular breathing.