Oghurn relaxed slightly, breathing in the familiar scents of blood and destruction. They always soothed him, calmed him down when he needed it. He paced along the path, glancing around continuously for a larger orc to take orders from, or an even smaller one to sneer at contempuously. That gave him almost as much pleasure as the sights and smells around him… He sat down beside a tree after slashing at it a few times with his sword and waited for someone to call him. He didn’t wait long.
* * *
He crept through the woods, not far at all from the clearing where the prisoners were. Pirk knew that Oghurn was small, quick, and quiet, and had told him to spy out any suspicious activity of the prisoners, Oghurn being only too happy to obey. Of course there were already guards set about, but they had needed somebody as a scout: a spy, almost, he felt. To see what condition they were in, whether it was good enough for them to try and run away, whether they were trying to make weapons… He was startled out of his thoughts suddenly when he realized that he was only about 15 feet away from the clearing already, and began to walk more stealthily and carefully, watching for any movement. A minute later, he was at the edge of the clearing, peering inwards, head swimming from the light that managed to penetrate the branches and leaves above him. He looked carefully at all of the people within sight. Many men, women, and even small children stood about, with expressions of a varying quantity of despair showing upon them. A women leaned over 3 men, all of whom, Oghurn noted with a certain delight, were unconsious and bleeding heavily. No suspicious activities, it seemed. Oghurn had heard Pirk’s plan for putting them all into cages or other like things. Tie them up, he thought. Serve them right, the nasty tarks.
[ April 13, 2003: Message edited by: GaladrieloftheOlden ]
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"Glue... very powerful stuff."
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