2/8/2002

12:00 PM

Logfile from Elendor.

Eregion, Hollin Ridge

Here is a low ridge crowned with ancient holly trees, whose trunks seem to have been built out of the very stone of the hills. The berries of the trees seem to glow red in the light. The Misty Mountains slash up into the sky to the east and to south, and they continue to run towards the southwest. This high range is dominated by three awesome peaks; the tallest and nearest, Redhorn, is tipped with snow. Its sides are bare and hidden in shadow, and where the sunlight hits it, it glows red. The two furthest peaks, Silvertine and Cloudyhead, also hint of danger, but not as overtly as their big brother. Every so often the cries of birds issue through the air.

Huzghash

Tazglok

Hykhert

The sun still hides its golden crown far below the horizon, its golden rays unable to harm the wary eyes of orcs. Yet, the stars and moon shine high in the sky, silver rivulets of light pouring down to illuminate the black night. On a path from the Mountains lies the Morian camp, filled to the brim with orcs and a few trolls. There they work tirelessly for King and Flame as the Morian Horde marches once more to war.

On the outskirts of the Morian camp there are set fires, their dancing flame providing extra light to the sentries posted near. These Guards of Moria carefully watch the borders of the camp making sure no intruders ever come near.

The Senior Guard is out as well, revelling in the dark. His form moves slowly within the ring of fires that surround the camp as he continually watches his Guards that are on duty. Every now and again a messenger snaga will run up to him with some information, or report, and they are quickly set back to duty as soon as they finish. Huzghash's crimson eyes continually gaze out at the ring of fires, checking each guard with his eyes and then proceeding to the next. Satisfied for now, Huzghash moves slightly closer to the Camp proper and gazes over its occupants.

[Tazglok(#30918)] One of the occupants, the snaga who has just emerged from the bowels of one of the tents, catches the Senior Guard's gaze, and lowers his own eyes submissively, considering the bucket of slop in his hand as his glance makes its way to the ground. He grunts, almost a growl of distaste, and trots, bent far forward, to the side of the tent. A few idling cobugs move out of his way, jeering at him as he passes.

Behind the tent, which lies at the edge of the encampment, a dense pocket of sagebrush sinks down to a lull in the ridge. It is toward this the snaga makes his way, his head bobbing in the sharp moonlight as he runs.

Huzghash continues his slow walk through the camp, his booted feet clomping loudly to the ground. As the Senior Guards eyes dart about the camp, he motions for a snaga carrying some food to come over to him. Snatching a few choice slices of meat off the plate, Huzghash begins to eat as he walks. One by one each piece of meat is pushed into the Senior Guard's mouth and chewed voraciously, and then followed by a large swallow. Finishing his snack, Huzghash stops himself near a fire-pit and pulls up a barrel to sit on.

[Tazglok(#30918)] A distant sloshing noise can be heard in the camp as Tazglok empties the bucket into the bushes beyond. A guard several feet away stands cold watch over the valley, breathing on his giant hands to keep warm in the cool night air. He turns at the snaga's approach to the bushes, and calls out as he pours out the bucket.

"Snaga! Get here." He turns back to his post, not waiting for the response.

"Yes, of course, i comes," he mutters absently, striding over to the guard, dragging the bucket along the leafy floor behind him.

There are quite a few orcs around the fire-pit where the Senior Guard sits, whether it is because of him they are there or not does not concern the Guard. Scooting himself and his barrel-seat closer to the fire to gain some warmth, Huzghash lays his spear across his lap and leans forward slightly. The orcs about him rattle off stories and tall tales that elicit many chuckles from other uruks, and occasionally from the Senior Guard, though for the most part he sits calmly; eyes locked on the fire.

[Tazglok(#30918)] As the Senior Guard relaxes at the fire, the guard and Tazglok the snaga consider him from several paces west of the circle of tents. Tazglok stands at the guard's side, listening, and nodding his head at appropriate intervals. The guard points at Huzghash as he speaks.

"You, give a message to the Senior Guard for me. He's over there, at that fire." Tazglok searches for a moment, then locks his eyes on target and nods assent. He starts forward, but the guard catches him with a firm hand on Tazglok's shoulder.

"Fool!" he hisses. "This is what i want you to tell him, snaga." He bends down to a small animal corpse, and pushes it into Tazglok's arms.

"There is nothing here tonight. All clear. We heard some rustling in the bushes, but this was all." He indicates the corpse.

Tazglok stares blankly at the corpse for a moment, forgetting to respond, then suddenly breaks out, "Yes, of course, i takes him the message." He lumbers toward the fire where Huzghash sits, now, cradling the animal in his arms. Upon closer inspection, one may identify it as a mere badger.

Huzghash still sits quietly by the fire, surrounded by the noise of many Morians merrymaking and working. Sounds about him are masked and insignificant as the crimson eyes of the Guard stare long into the fire, watching as the slowly churning flames go about their business of destruction. Sighing slightly, Huzghash shurgs his shoulders and stands, stretching his limbs. Crack crack crack. The bones of the Senior Guards body pop slightly as he stretches his joints after his short rest. Then the Guard sharply tiwst his neck to the left and then right, sending more pops echoing from his body. A few of the snaga nearby stand as the Senior Guard does, apparently wanting something to do but not forthcoming with the question. Huzghash merely looks down on the crew of snaga and grunts, and then gazes back across the fire momentarily, as he searches the camp.

[Tazglok(#30918)]

Firelight playing grotesquely on his face as he hobbles into view, Tazglok emerges from the darker edges of the camp bearing the corpse like a tub of precious wine. He straightens as he comes to a halt beside the crackling fire, and proudly presents the animal to Huzghash. "I brings this from the west guard," he announces, now clearly offering the corpse to the Senior Guard. He flinches in pain as a stray spark nips him on the neck, and he steps a little away, still grinning up at Huzghash, pleased at his own performance.

The head of the Senior Guard whips around to see his new speaker. Looking upon the snaga with his glowering crimson eyes, huzghash smirks slighty. "Ah! So beasts prowl in the west!" A tumult of chuckling comes forth from the Senior Guard as he looks down upon the small animal held by the Snaga. Reaching down with his left hand, Huzghash takes the Badger from the snaga's grasp and holds it before him. Without casting his glance back down at the snaga Huzghash says, "Good. Now, snaga, I have seen you before, I think." His eyes dart down and study the face of the Snaga, Badger still held in the air. "Hmm. Yes, I have. What is your tribe? Job? Do you have one yet?" His question is followed with a bit of bite as the Guards eyes study the badger again, a light chuckling falling from the lips of the Senior Guard.

[Tazglok(#30918)]

Having delivered the badger, Tazglok lets his arms fall to his sides, his fists opening and closing as he listens, eyes cast down to Huzghash's waist. "Yes, two days ago, withs the wolves. No sir, i don't." He looks up suddenly, and his lips draw back on either side of his teeth in worried realization.

"Oh, sir, they said that's alls they've seen tonight, sorry sir." He frowns at his former, premature self-praise, and rubs his palms together as he looks over to the fire, finding some small comfort in the wholly painless yet entirely consuming nature of this little flame.

Huzghash smirks as he listens to the snaga words. "I know. This badger tells me as much." Chuckling the Senior Guard looks down to the snaga. "No tribe? No job? Why not?!" The Senior's eyes stare down hard at the snaga trying to avoid eye contact. "Snagas must find a job and must have a Tribe!" The words dive quickly out of Huzghash's mouth, spinning their way to the ears of the snaga.

[Tazglok(#30918)] The words of the Senior Guard twining their way down through Tazglok's large ears, the snaga snaps his head back down, then up, uncertainly. He backs up a step from the greater orc and pucks his lips in what could, in similar company, be passed off as thought, for a moment, and finally nods, "Yes, of course, i'm trying to gets a job, sorry." This is the extent of his bravery, however, as his gaze is once again brought to bear on the forest floor. His fists still pump at his sides, vigorously, and his head swims warmly with the confrontation.

"At least you are looking." A sidelong glance cast at the other snagas standing near, and immediately they bound off to work. "A tribe though? Morghash maybe? Yes, you look tough and maybe smart. Maybe." HUzghash eyes the snaga wearily, his crimson eyes etching their way over the snaga's form. The Guard shifts slightly, allowing both of his arms to hang at his sides, the left hand still holding on to the badger.

[Tazglok(#30918)]

"Morghash, yes, i would likes to join them," Tazglok claims, considering Huzghash's own alignment. He brings a hand up to scratch his scalp. He then glances up, and says, "I wish to becomes a scout for the Morghash," anticipating the Guard's next question. He is torn between fear and hope, as is evident by his constantly shifting expression, his mind perhaps to slow to take in both feelings at once.

Tazglok and Huzghash stand near a campfire, the Senior Guard holding a badger down at his side, facing the snaga, studying him. It is still night.

Huzghash nods his approval of the snaga's first choice, but snorts slightly at his choice of job. "Good. Then Morghash you shall be." The hand of the Senior Guard claps down on the shoulder of the snaga. "Scout though.." Huzghash voice trails off slightly as he straightens and scratches at his right ear. "You have to talk with Gark about the Scouts. Not my area." The Guard snorts again as he looks down at the snaga. "A Morghash you be then!" A smirks spreads across Huzghash's face as he looks down at the snaga, but then he alters his view to glance around at the camp; taking it all in quickly.

[Tazglok(#30918)]

Biting his lip, the snaga looks around as well, then suffers a slow smile, convinced that, for the moment, the inquisition has drawn to a close. He glances around to his peers, then announces to them, loudly, "I ams a Morghash!" He hits his chest, then coughs.

Off to the west, a loud wooden clatter can be heard, followed by a sharp crash of metal on metal. The guard on duty there groans, audible at even this distance, as he rises to his feet, enraged.

[Hykhert(#28992)] As the clatter arises, one can pick up another noise from over a wee hill, little more than a mound in the terrain. A scraping, rasping sound, rythmic in its stopping and starting. Presently the sound's origin becomes clear as the tattered gard and barely glinting helm of the shaman Hykhert comes into view over the rise. Coming to within steps of the pair, Hyhkery drags behing himself long and varied pieces of flora. The bundle, mostly bark, vines tendrils and the like, occassionally drags on the ground to make the rasping sound heard earlier.

Stopping before Huzghash and Tazglok, he scans both at length and searches his memory. After a moment, he allows a forced smile in Huzghash's direction. "He who purges for the good of Moria...You fare well." Pausing a moment to recall a relevant concern, he speaks again. "The guard...the idiot with the broken head...lives he yet?"

"Good! Now, back to..." The Guard's voice trails off as crashing sounds interrupt his voice. "What is this?" Huzghash turns his body to face the sounds and stares in their direction. Seeing one of his Guard's rising from the ground, a small bucket by his feet, Huzghash chuckles and calls out, "No danger! Hah! Seems you can't watch your own feet, let alone this camp!" Noticing two Guards nearby Huzghash looks to them and motions them to go relieve the tripped orc.

Turning back Huzghash spots the Shaman Hykhert as he reaches them. Nodding to the Shaman as he finishes speaking, Huzghash says, "The little one, Bozblot, he lives still." The Guard's tone of voice grows noticeably softer as he speaks with the Shaman, resonating with respect. Huzghash eyes find the Shaman's face and hold there, staring back into the Shaman's eyes.

[Tazglok(#30918)] Sensing a relief from the conversation, the young snaga Tazglok back away toward a gathering of like snagas. The bucket comes hurtling toward the group, and pathetic, froglike spurts of strides scatter the pathetic, froglike cluster. Tazglok widens his eyes at the bucket and, first checking to see the guard isn't following it over, he scoops it up with his long arm and starts back for the tent he first popped out of.

Hykhert nods, then his face hardens. "Problems with the guards, they are often spoken of." He eyes Huzghash again, as if he might have perceptibly changed in appearance in the few minutes since the shaman's arrival. "This is an odd rumour, for the leadership I have met seems loyal and honorable." He cracks a corner of his mouth in a slight grin, hinting at who he obviously speaks of. "Why, then, guard, are there problems with the humility of your kind? And where is this originating?" Though these words from a shaman could easily indicate danger for Huzghash, they appear to be merely a genuine question.

Huzghash bows his head slightly, eyes cast to the ground for a moment. "There are other Senior Guard's and the Guards have divided loyalties right now since there is no Master Guard. I've been tryin' to change that." Huzghash looks back up to the Shaman, as his eyes flick slightly to the side as the snaga escapes further questioning.

"The problem is respect among the lower ranks. They have chosen a Senior to cast in with and follow him, ignoring and disrespecting the others. This has been the cause for our ridicule. Even the other Senior's, three of us in all, seem to have come together to stop my bid for the Master position." Huzghash pauses momentarily, eyes looking inward. "Hopefully, they will realize their mistake and strengthen the Guards, rather than weaken us by holding their grudges. Though...I do not think they will in the least." The Guard shrugs his shoulders and sighs audibly as his gaze comes to rest once more on the Shaman.

Hykhert nods, but is not particularly concerned. "This is a matter for the King...seek him for me. If you tell him the mender of the Flame's Right Hand's Left Hand seeks him, I will speak to him of this." He chuckles. "I am not concerned with the matter, but I have sympathy for your position. Your woes will be mended if you think of the Flame, never yourself." He closes his eyes, suddenly reflecting. "Yes, the ambassador is useless. Tell the King I seek him and your troubles will wane."

The Senior Guard nods quickly, "I will do as you say, Shaman." Bowing his head, Huzghash recites a prayer to the Flame quietly. Looking back up the Guard's eyes lock with the Shaman's for a moment, but return to looking upon the ground. "Shaman. I wish to learn how to heal the minor wounds that commonly befall a patrolling Guard, so that we would not need to bother the Shaman for such trivial tasks. Would you.." huzghash pauses a moment in his question, "Would you be able to show me how to wrap these minor wounds to contain them? I do not wish to learn how to deal with the more...bad wounds, only these minor ones." Huzghash tilts his head upwards slightly to see the Shaman out of the top of his eyes, but keeps his head bowed still. His left hand closes and opens nervously as he stands under the scrutiny of Hykhert.

Hykhert freezes, growling a bit to himself at such an audacious request...but he calms quickly. "It is not my place to choose who receives the gift, and it is not yours. Will it ever be, I cannot say." He pauses. "Maybe nearer to the Flame one might receive such power, but not here, not so far away, so cold, so light." He turns, but continues as he begins suddenly to walk away. "Here is too far afield to even think of finding the gift." Not angry, not apologetic, the Shaman in simply stating a fact as he begins to step away.

Huzghash does not move from his place, nor does he have any audible reaction to the Shaman's words; apparently expecting them. "Thank you, Shaman. I won't bother you again with such questions." The Senior Guard bows his head slightly and watches as the Shaman walks away.

Hykhert nods as he continues to walk away. "We have enough to busy ourselves for now, Guard." His burden dragging behind him, he disappears over the same hill. "Find Magog," are the words that drift back on the night wind, the last sign of the shaman as he returns to whatever task he came from.

The Senior Guard merely nods once more and turns around, facing out into the darkness. Staring at the ring of sentry fires the surround the camp, HUzghash begins to walk toward one, metal armour clinking lightly with each step. The Senior Guard's form is illuminated by the flickering flames of the fires as he slowly makes his way down to his sentries, eyeing each one in turn.