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Charvok's Wounds

Elendor - Monday, January 29, 2001, 10:03 PM
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[Garjug(#23667)] The smouldering torches seem to give off more smoke than
light in this dismally lit chamber. The light hardly seems to reach to the
edges, which would cause it to feel as if it were outside the dark halls of
Moria were it not for the absence of any other sound. Even the raspy breaths
of the two Zealots in the chamber seem ominously loud. The elder of the two,
Garjug, makes his way over to the once beautiful table carved from a single
massive stone. Knocking aside all assortment of debris, he clears a spot on
the table on which to sit. Looking back towards the smaller She-Zealot,
Garjug asks in a curiously kind voice, "And how is the hand today? Are the
wounds remaining fresh and free of yellow?" Just after those words, Garjug
begins untying the now familiar bag at this side with the odd powder that
keeps wounds fresh, but free from rot.

Charvok moves with the Zealot and watches as he clears a spot off the table.
On inquiry to her wounds she nods and holds up her left had encased in a
blood encrusted fingerless glove. "Was doing well today until I backhanded a
snaga with it. Now I need a new glove as I was not sufficiently healed to
stem the heavy flow of blood." She pauses recalling the event. "Curious
though..After I hit him with the injured hand one of my first impresses ions
was of the flame. Perhaps it is as you have said." She tugs gently at the
glove and removes it from her hand. The back of her hand is a charred pulp
but the blackness is gone and she seems to be trying to shape the wound into
a definite pattern. "My plan is to mirror an emblem of the flame and keep it
in the center. " She examines the wound and notes it is free from signs of
the death decay. Setting the glove aside she looks into the eyes of her
chosen master.

[<#23667>] Garjug leans forward to better examine the wound, and nods in
approval. 'Yes, it seems to be clear of the rot, and ready for your shaping.
To the fact that the strike brought thoughts of the fire to you is no
surprise. When I strike, my eyes and mind are clouded with red from fire,
strength and visions of the Demon-Flame itself. It is from that that I draw
my strength.' The Zealot raises his eyes from the she-uruk's injured hand to
her eyes, where they seem to lock momentarily. Seemingly uncomfortable with
the closeness that this brings, Garjug quickly shifts his gaze and begins
muttering in a much more ancient tongue, "<Morbeth> ** *** *****, ***** I
**** *** ****** ******** **** *****." Then, the Zealot stands, and hands the
pouch of powder to his apprentice. After transferring the bag, Garjug
reverts back to the common speech among the Uruk, 'I will now speak to you
of the next step you must take...I assume that you can see color?'

Charvok holds the master's gaze and does not break contact as he does when
he looks away. She readily accepts the bag and sprinkles the powder on the
back of her hand and watches it carefully. Once applied she seals the bag
and moves closer to him so that perhaps a hand span separates them. She
looks up into his eyes and offers him the bag. Her left hand reaches out
almost unconsciously and brushes his elbow. Softly she answers. "Yes my
lord. I can see color. " She drops her hand from his elbow brushing his
thigh as it finds it's way to her side and she maintains the closeness of
their spacing not showing the interest to increase it nor decrease it at the
moment. She can feel the heat radiating from his body and she enquires
further. "What is the next step my Lord?"

[Garjug(#23667)] During the course of the Zealot's life, he has often been
to the breeding pits, and shared his time among many of the denizens there,
but never has he felt any true affections towards any of those she-Uruk. For
this reason, Garjug is somewhat uncomfortable with the closeness, and the
attraction that is brewing between these two. Unable to back up, Garjug
simply sits there, uncomfortable, but unmoving. He seems torn whether to
move back, away from this new apprentice, or to move forward, into her and
to taste of her talents learned in the pits. Although trying to ignore her
closeness, his skin seems to tingle where she had touched him. "Well...the
next step is to understand the visions you have been having. You see.."
Garjin pauses as he tries to focus on his words instead of this cunning
beast before him, "you see...the colors are an important part of your
visions." The Zealots words seem to lack their usual passion, as if his
heart is distracted in some manner.

Charvok nods discreetly at the words the master is saying as if hanging on
every word. As he mentions the colors are an important part of the vision
she adjust her position so that she is squarely infront of him. "My visions
my lord have been filled with color and when I see color that is primarily
vibrant red. I would say that is energetic. Very energetic and enthusiastic.
She moves close to him but not touching where he sits on the table moving
her body between his knees and peering up into his eyes. "I can say that of
the two visions I have had so far I might say that the flame has almost been
inviting. Sort of welcoming me. The first vision my lord..It was intimate. I
felt as the flame were caressing me. Though I cannot recall the impression
of color at the time. It was if my skin was being strokes. My loins
licked.." She stops her recollection still vibrant as the day she had it.
"It was incredible. The experience that is."

Garjug is quite obviously split between his desire to continue instructing
this she-Uruk on the path to becoming a Zealot, and his desire for the
she-Uruk herself. In an attempt to diffuse the charged air between the two,
he first tries to refasten the pouch to his belt, but it would require two
hands, and the scant inches between the two prohibits him from reaching
across his own torso to tie it. Nearly giving in to his desires to grab her,
and throw her to the table, he tries to avoid such by following his previous
words with more lecture. "You see..." he starts to interrupt, but falls into
silence to allow her to finish her statement. When she speaks of her skin
being stroked, his breath seems to escape his lungs, and her words of
feeling as if her loins were being licked causes his own to begin to burn.
The long dormant arousal of his member thankfully hidden by his layers of
mail. He tries to speak again, "You see, you have felt the desir..er..the
demands of the Flame, as your mind and..body..have been affected by the
visions. The first vision that you describe is your invitation into the
embrace of the Demon. The lickings of the flame upon your skin..that is
simply the way the Fire shows you that it has power over your body." While
the rationales seem sound, it appears quite evident that his heart is not in
his words.

Charvok listens intently and nods at the flame accepting her and showing her
the power over her body. She nods easily and casually drops her ands to her
side. They brush the Zealots thighs and as she withdraws a step she lets the
nails slide slowly over the tops of his thighs. Her gaze is still upturned
and as if in thought moistens her lips as she lets her gaze slide down the
torso of her master lingering at where her fingers had just touched. "My
lord I must confess. The experiences that I have had. The visions of the
flame itself. These are almost more powerful than you and I speaking now. My
body ..completely ..resoundingly in the grasp of the demon. It was as if.."
She lets her voice trail off. And she turns away from the Zealot. With a
sigh she takes a step or two in contemplative thought before turning to face
him. "My lord. What the vision said the other day. Was echoed in the words
of a Friend Dagnohish , just this day. But I hesitate to speak it as the
words where hard for me to hear from another yet ring true to the vision and
ring true to my heart." She clenches a fist and buries it deep within her
bosom.

[Garjug(#23667)] The Zealot seems genuinely interested in the apprentice's
words, especially regarding the previous conversation to which he was not
privy. His voice coming back somewhat stronger now, and with his usual
authority, "Then speak to me of these words that your friend spoke! For if
they are the same as those that I speak, and those of the Flame, then your
friend should come and speak to me. There are many other spirits that mimic
the tongue of the Fire, and many of those try to lead the true followers
astray. Speak to me of his words, and then speak to me of who this friend
is. Dago..Danohish? That name sounds familiar..." As his mind searches for
recognition, his body scoots off of the table, placing him again within arms
reach. This time, his sensitive nostrils pick up her musky odor, causing his
mind to reel again in it's desire.

Charvok reaches out at the words of her master and grasps him by the upper
arm. Her proximity to him is a scant blade with and she peers hard into his
eyes. "Dagnohish. His name is Dagnohish. We spoke today of the flame and the
words of your teaching. He said. " Her voice lowers and her gaze is down
cast into his chest. Finding the strength to look him in the eye her head
moves up and she press in close. "That you were more a -true- shaman than
those that walk the temple area." She pauses momentarily , her eye turned up
cast into his and she looks deeply. Trying to divine the depths of his soul.
"My path felt torn between the path of the shaman and your path. I choose
firmly this day to walk in your ways. I told him that the flame told me that
your words where true. Your way was true. I swear this by the power of the
vision. By the power of the Balrog. My lord. You may not even know the
depths to which your words ring true to the demon itself." She is excited by
her words and becomes breathless unrevealing them to her lord. Her chest
heaves with excitement. She licks her lips and swallows hard. "We are to be
a new breed. A new order. Don't you see my Lord. The Demon is bearing a new
child. And it is choosing you as it's leader." Her breath Is coming in gasps
now as she relates what she has come to know as truth.

[Garjug(#23667)] The usually immoveable Garjug seems to almost shudder as
this she-Uruk seems to have spoken the words that he has seeked since moving
from the breeding pits with the other children-snagas. Words of truth, of
acceptance and most importantly, of approval by the Demon-beast itself. With
his rush of enthusiasm, he wraps his arms around Charvok, and clasps her
close to him. With her head only inches beneath his chin, her odor
penetrates even his vile reek. He breathes in deeply, savoring her scent.
Then slowly recognition of her nearness breaks through his euphoric state,
and he wonders how she will react to his broach of soldiering. With his
chest still heaving in deep breaths, Garjug speaks again in very gentile
tones, "Yes, you have been given true sight by the Flame, perhaps even more
potent than mine own visions. Skai! But those worthless shaman can but
pretend to feel the true power of the flame, for it is not something to
reason with, for Fire consumes all around it. It takes everything, and feeds
from it, becoming stronger. The Fire touched you, carressed you. In short it
feeds from you, and you shall feed from it. This child that you speak of, is
being born now! This child is the new order of the Flame, the Zealots of
Moria. We shall recruit others, and we shall grow in strength. We must
continually feed of each other, and become stronger. I will lead those
Morians seeking the true path back to the ways of the Demon. Back to the
glory that is it's home. Back to the Moria of old!"

Charvok sucks air through parted lips as he master takes command of her. She
yields willingly and begins to melt into him the space between them now
breeched like battle lines. She feels her own flesh responding and her musky
scent dampens her soft mound between her legs and she presses warmly into
him. Her lips upturned ready to be taken by his when the moment is seized
and the passion halted through a force of his will. Her hands drop to his
inner thigh and hold for a moment as she turns her eyes to his like those of
a fawn peering at a new dawn. Her body charged with anticipation, her
instincts flowing, she reluctantly reins them in like stampeding horses. The
closeness now to very real she takes a step back to give her master some
space. Her hands are the last to retreat. Holding their position, clutching
warmly high on his inner thighs. Softly and slowly they too release their
hold though the feeling seems to linger in them. Her face flushed for the
moment she turns her face from him uncertain where the breach of protocol
lies, she wish not to make him uncomfortable. As he speaks of the Zealots
growing and recruiting she simply nods her head. At last she turns to face
him and as he talks of Moria growing strong as of old and a small smile
forms for her master. "As it was in the beginning it shall now and ever be a
new order and it will be known that the Zealot, Lord Garjug, is it's
commander."

[Garjug(#23667)] As Charvok steps away, Garjug feels only the coldness of
the area now vacated. His mind is instantly filled with both regret that he
didn't sieze the opportunity, and have his way with the breeding-pit Zealot,
and with satisfaction that he overcame the temptation, and remained true to
the Flame. He felt the heat coming from Charvok, and it caused his root to
harden even more. Half of him wanted her hands to touch him...to feel him,
but the other half only wanted to back away, so that he could return to his
usual gruff self. These feelings of..affection..seem uncomfortable to the
one that has spent his life in the dedication of war and the Flame.

Her words echo his, and this is what finally brings his mind clear of the
fog of desire. The Zealot of Moria then speaks again, this time, his voice
confident and stirring, "I, Garjug will serve the Demon as none before! I
will amass an army of believers, TRUE believers! And you.." Garjug says
pointing his gauntleted hand towards Charvok, "YOU will be my second. But
you have much to learn and little time to do so. Let us finish our mission
to find a suitable habitat. Then, we will begin seeking students." With
this, Garjug strides towards the door of the chamber, with his ambition
clearly before him.

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