======================= The King's Reckoning ========================
IC time is: < mid-morning >
IC day is: Valanya
IC date is: 2 Cermie
Moon phase: Last Quarter
IC year is: 3184 S.A.
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RL time: Thu May 31 14:16:58 2001
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LOCATION: Umbar, Eastern Gates
At this place, the outer wall of Umbar comes to its full height of a hundred
and fifty feet. Topped with thick battlements, girt around with towers and
overhanged with stone bastions, it certainly looks impregnable by any kind of
assault from the land side. The fifty-feet height of the gate itself is wrought
from stout oak and held together by criss-crossing straps of steel that run
along the wood. Sentries, like shadows atop the wall, skirt the battlements in
their prescribed fashion, and calm reigns over the city which laughs at
anything that Middle-earth could muster against it.
Stepping through the gates will take you inside the Numenorean stronghold of
Umbar, if the guards let you of course. To the north and south of you, the
famous gardens of Umbar encircle the city in a belt of ever-green vegetation.
Contents:
Azrien
Marazon
Obvious exits:
South leads to Umbar, the Garden Belt.
North leads to Umbar, the Garden Belt.
East leads to The Umbar Road: Umbar Crossroads.
Through The Gates leads to In the Shadow of Eastern Gate.
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[Marazon:] Morning and the sun is already bright above the city of Umbar. And
yet, this is perhaps the best hour of the day, for the freshness of the night
still linger and the fiery globe isnt yet at its zenith. There near the wide
eastern gates, a crowd of men goes in and out, the number yet high despite the
near orcish threat.
Many Numeneroans but also many even if less workers of near or afar, carrying
goods or stones to the battlements.
[Barzag:] One group of workers is even now engaged in repairs to the wall just north of
the gate. Ureziran, senior mason, stands supervising his workers, punctuated by
much shouting and cursing, for they seem to be slow to respond to his commands.
One look at the workers suggests a possible reason for this, for they are no
Numenoreans. Shorter than most in Umbar, broad and swarthy skinned, these are
Rhevain labourers. Most of the passers by who notice the foreigners turn their
heads away quickly, trying to pretend that these lesser Men do not even exist.
[Marazon:] Standing high on the battlement, his brigandine weighing heavily on his
shoulders, Marazon disturns his glance from the plains and once beautiful
garden that lies just beneath the mighty walls. Turning to the inner city, he
watches the group of worker and wipes his brow, the sun taking its toll from
both Rhevain and Dunedain no matter of blood or height. Sighing and cursing
about his assignement here, the seaman takes a few step down, brow furrowed and
his glance falls on the shouting Ureziran. "Make silence ! I cant endure the
sun and your shout !"
[Barzag:] Ureziran is quick to retort. "What would you have me do? Is it not enough that
I cannot rely on men of Umbar for labour, but must use these half-witted
savages?"
Squinting along the angle of the wall, he notices a cracked stone at the edge
of the battlements. Muttering, "This should be replaced," he turns away from
the guardsman and his gaze falls on one of the Rhevain. "You!" he shouts, his
voice just as loud as before, "bring up some of the black stone - from that
wagon." He gestures briefly.
[Marazon:] "I dont care, do whatever you need but in silence" Marazon cuts the
mastermason and slips the towel he used to wipe his brow in his belt. A thin
smile shifts on the sailor lips as he turns away and spare his anger on one of
the worker, just as he did himself. "By the horns of Osse" booms Marazon "You
dont understand Adunaic !"
[Barzag:] The Rhevain labourer listens intently, raises his head to stare at the seaman.
The man's amber eyes are calm, a frown furrowing his brow, as if he is
struggling to understood the seaman's speech. Malformed lips twitch as he
struggles to answer. " What you say?" he asks, carefully enunciating
each word. A shout from below catches his attention, and he turns to receive
one of the block that has been passed up by one of his fellow workers.
Meanwhile, Ureziran's temper is not improving. "Silence, indeed!" he mutters
sourly. "I'll do as I please." Addressing Marazon, he says curtly, "You're in
the way, seaman. Go do your guarding elsewhere, if you please." He motions to a
spot a little further along the wall.
[Marazon:] Marazon furrows a brow at the halting speech of the worker. "Later
man later" he says checking his growing anger. "No I dont please, and *you*
will go away, willy or nilly you will go, mason. I have this wall to guard and
I'll do it as I see fit. Go now" he finishes dropping his right hand to his
belt, just near the tall hilt of his sword.
"You" he returns his attention to Barzag, "Do quickly so this man can move
away."
[Barzag:] Ureziran pauses to wipe a trickle of sweat from his brow - whether is due to
heat or anger it is hard to tell.
The labourer Barzag stares from one man to another, obviously not understanding
the whole conversation. Hearing Marazon's words, he peers towards the seaman in
an effort to read his features. Squinting into the bright sun, he lays the
block down and raises a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. "
Do... quickly," he murmurs, repeating the words he has understood. He turns
back to the perspiring Ureziran to ask, " What you want? Where stone
to go?"
[Marazon:] Marazon considers the mason in silence for long seconds, a wolfish
grin drawing itself on his features and finally swings on his heels, the heavy
armor buckles and rings tinkling in the sudden silence only broken by Barzag
murmur. Making room for the worker should he need some, Marazon fixes back his
glance on the blur line of the eastern horizon.
[Barzag:] Ureziran growls in anger, and raises a fist - then stops, as if uncertain who
he wishes to direct his anger against. He gestures towards the place where the
cracked stone lies, and takes out a heavy chisel, carefully beginning to loosen
the mortar round it. Barzag watches in silence for a while, before reaching out
a hand towards the tool. " I understand," he says softly, this time
in his own tongue rather than the foreign Adunaic. " You wish the
old stone removed, and the - the binding paste renewed."
Ureziran hesitates, scowling as he listens the torrent of words - then shrugs,
and hands the tool over, watching suspiciously for a few minutes. He then turns
his attention back to Marazon. "What do you see there," he asks in an effort to
be conciliatory. "What news of the Orcish encampment?"
[Marazon:] Marazon resumes his watch as the first sound of stone work fills his
ear. "It is out of view, beyond this ridge" he replies absently, waving a hand
toward the said rideg even if unseen to the mason. "How long will it take ?" he
asks, directing his words at the Rhevain.
[Barzag:] The Rhevain stops his labours, frowns and shakes his head. glancing up at the
sky to measure the sun's position. " Long as... as" He shrugs his
shoulders, not having the words to answer. He stops for a moment to wipe his
brow, leaving a smudge of grey dust, and returns industriously to his work.
Ureziran laughs softly. "You expect answers from a Hillman?" he asks with a
smug grin. "Then, my friend, you will surely be disappointed. But, to answer
your question - not long. I no more wish to be here in this sweltering heat
than you do." He snorts, and glances round to see how the rest of his workers
are doing.
[Marazon:] "Good" simply and shortly replies Marazon, his blue grey glance
swaying between the two men. "And remember silence is of gold... It's too hot
to shout anyway" Marazon says, nearly chuckling. "Have a nice day both." he
finishes and gathering a bit of his cloak in his hand moves along the
battlement a few yards away.
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Participants:
MARAZON (#5509)
Alias: J Gender: M
Species: Men Culture: Numenor
Kin: Dunedain Title: Azrunarad, Azrubel o Ayadobroth, "S
Faction: Arnari
IC INFO:
The second son of a four child family, Marazon was born in the fourthieth year
of Ar-Gimilzor's reign and grew up in Andunie, in the middle of the strife
between Kings men and Elendili. Offspring of a mixed wedding, he has became an
Adventurer as soon as he was ripe to and traveled far and wide, halting little
time in the place he visited save of late in Umbar. He is known for good or
bad, for his temperance concerning politic and for his susceptibility
concerning himself and his family, especially his younger and strong headed
sister, Roziliel.
DESCRIPTION:
Fair skinned, tow headed and blue eyed, this dunedain stands a little inches
above the commone height of a Numeneroan. He is strongly built, moving with
ease, be him armored or not. His nose is strong and long, his chin, free of any
beard, volunteer and a hint of sadness bless the arching of his blonde eyebrow.
Small plates of steel closely sewn on flexible leather cover his chest and
limbs. Each is a little mirror in itself and reflect the light, living
kaleidoscope on the body of the seaman. A jeweled belt, wearing the insignias
of the Sea Kings, supports along with a broad baldric of dark leather, the
heavy scabbard of a not less heavy broadsword. High boots designed not for
riding but for long walk on the slippy deck of ships reach as far as his knees,
where the steel armor halts. Often he wears a finely wocen cloak of deep indigo
wool around his shoulder, covering his chest and hanging behind him to his back
knee while letting his neck free and often, a cold and threathening bow wrought
in black steel is in his hand.
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BARZAG (#5159)
Alias: Gender: M
Species: Men Culture: Numenor
Kin: Rhevain Title: Player
Faction: None
IC INFO:
Here is one on whom it seems fortune has frowned, one despised by his own
people. Barzag is one of the Hill-Folk, known to the Elves and the Edain as the
Rhevain or Men of Twilight. He is an itinerant flint knapper by trade; a
little-valued position in Hillman society, yet a job he grew to love. Barzag
was one of a group transported to Umbar as unskilled labourers to repair the
city walls; he was one of the few who went voluntarily.
Barzag is currently in his mid-twenties. He is a loner by nature, being
accustomed to the scorn of others, but is strongly loyal to those few who do
win his trust. It is rare for him to show open anger, although he does have a
tendency to bear grudges.
DESCRIPTION:
At first glance this man appears a normal specimen of the Hill-Folk. He is tall
for his kind, perhaps about six feet in height, and his shoulders are slightly
hunched in the manner of one who spends much of the time looking downward. His
skin is swarthy, weather-beaten from long days spent outdoors, his build
rugged. From the man's slightly stooped posture, you deduce that he is used to
carrying heavy loads. His feet are encased in crude leather moccasins, worn and
scuffed. He wears trousers of some coarse greyish material, although it is hard
to tell whether this is the cloth's original colour or the result of fading.
There is a tear across one knee that is sorely in need of mending. A mass of
unruly dark hair hangs loose about his shoulders, brushing the top of his
tunic, which is of a soft, supple leather; it has been subject to prolonged
wear, judging by the shiny patches and ingrained creases, and surely cannot
last for much longer.
Your gaze wanders upwards, towards this man's face - and halts, for therein
lies the reason for the distrust and fear he inspires in many. His chin is
hidden by a short, dark beard, carefully trimmed. But his upper lip, upon which
only a few sparse bristles grow, is cloven in the manner of a beast, and
twisted slightly so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer.
Above this, his nose is long and straight; amber eyes generally regard the
observer coolly from beneath lowering black brows. Were it not for the
wrongness of his mouth, he might even be considered handsome, but his
disfigurement prevents this.
(
geocities.com/halwynofdale)