Last Hope for Moria RPG

[Melisil]

"Oi! Balin!" called Narin loudly, causing several Dwarfs, including Loni, to look over at him, "I don't see that there's anything to discuss. Aughtn't we simply retrace our steps and look for the path again? We gave those pointy-eared elven girlies something to think about, and I don't think the'll be back without reinforcements, which I don't see happening before we get out of this accursed forest."

"I agree," Loni stated, "We ought to turn back. But we won't! We must keep going onward. If those pointy eared, yellow skinned, chicken livered, girly Elfs see us turning back- well, I for one would not like to be around them then. Oh how their pretty little ego's would be raised, if you all see. It won't be right to turn back, even if it is 'smart'. Those tree-hoppers are everywhere, if you know." he turned to Narin, "Narin lad, I agree with what your saying 'n all, but I cannot afford my honour by those pale-faced lizards mocking us in their turf.

Once we're in Moria, on the other hand," he continued, a large grin spreading across is face, "Then, I would like to invite these wrinklin' Elfs over. But not 'ere Narin. All we have to do is let them come."

A couple Dwarfs nodded in agreement, while others retalied with their own arguments. Narin's face was unreadable. Loni pulled him over to the side, "No 'ard feelings at me disagreeing and all, right?"

[Orofaniel]

The meeting had finally begun. Lugnush had been careful not to stand too near Nazklash, in case the whole meeting would turn into one big fight, and Nazklash would let it all go out on him. However, until now, it had gone pretty good. Of course some of the Orcs were eager to know why Nazklash had the guts to stand against the Chief. They also wanted to know how Nazklash was planning to kill him.

While some of the Orcs were questioning Nazklash, Lugnush used the opportunity to ask Uzgash, who was standing next to him, whether he had a good plan. Uzgash grumbled something about that he didn't really care how the Chief was killed, nor by whom he was killed; "..As long as he's outta 'ere, with his head apart from 'is body, I don't care whom kills 'im.." he muttered, sounding a bit pleased over his comment. Lugnush nodded and laughed as evilly as he possibly could. It sounded horrible, so he stopped after a few moments. His one eye then moved towards Nazklash, who was still being questioned by some of the other Orcs.

"What do you reckon' he's up too?" Lugnush asked Uzgash, as he noticed that also Uzgash was trying to pay attention to what Nazklash and the others said. "I mean, he ought to 'ave some sort of plan....don't ya think?" Lugnush continued, still not moving his eye away from Nazklash. He didn't want to miss any of his moves...

"I 'unno...and as I said, I don't really care...just get it ova with it.." Uzgash said, now seeming a bit irritated.

Suddenly there seemed to be a roar in the front there, Nazklash had been pushed into an unpleasant position where the Orcs were standing around him, forming a circle. " 'ey!" Lugnush cried and walked up. The Orcs surrounding Nazklash turned around and looked at him. "What?!?" The biggest Orc growled.

"Is there a problem?" Lugnush asked walking yet another step nearer Nazklash and the other Orcs.

"No, no problems.." Nazklash muttered, seeming afraid to say something wrong. Nazklash’s attitude was highly uncommon, and it all pointed to one direction; he was scared. He'd probably said something stupid which had made the other Orcs angry or annoyed. "Yes, in fact there is a problem!" The big Orc said and turned to Nazklash, looking at him angrily. "He won't tell us who’s going to kill the Chief!" another Orc said and stepped forwards, also he seemed angry.

"All in it's time you filthy Orc!" Nazklash growled. Nazklash didn't seem to be afraid anymore, just angry and humiliated. How did those filthy Orcs dear threaten him? Lugnush thought, even thought he knew this probably wasn’t the case…at all. "But we want to know NOW!" The Orcs growled back. This made Nazklash even more angry and stout hearted so he punched one of the Orcs in the face. The first blood drop had been spilt...

The meeting had turned to that point where the next comment would be significant for whether the Orcs would cooperate and would succeed killing the Chief, or if the whole meeting would end up like a huge blood bath.

It didn't take long before Nazklash drew his breath to say something. It was amazing how he could have punched down one of the Orcs without getting punched back, Lugnush thought. This symbolized his greatness and the huge influence and power he possessed.

When Nazklash heard some murmuring in the left corner, he narrowed his eyes. "If all of you nasty Orcs in the corner there could shut your filthy Orc mouths, it would be much easier for me to talk!!!!" Nazklash cried as spitted in that direction, just to show how disgusting he thought they were. The Orcs in the corner started to blame one an other for the talking, so it didn't get quiet right away. This was when Lugnush had to make his way through the crowd and break one of the Orc's arms. That was when the silence fell, finally.

"Well, well..." Nazklash started. He was back to his normal; confident, strong and harsh, even though his physical form is rather small compared to some of the other Orcs.

"As for the killing of the Chief, I do have an Orc in mind though..." Nazklash finally announced, laughing in his own cruel way. The Orcs settled down a bit and waited.

[Imladris]

Oranor, 2989

What a beastly time we’re having, to put it lightly. Lost in murky Mirkwood, an elf at our heals who could lead us straight except that Balin is too proud to ask for directions. So we’re just sitting here…waiting…waiting for Balin to think up some clever plan…waiting…waiting…for the spiders to smell our tender flesh. I hope that some sense at least will find its way into Balin’s mind. I know that I should not speak of this in the journal (thank Eru that most dwarves cannot read the elvish hand), but I don’t think it was wise venturing into Mirkwood. One would have thought that he would have learned from past experiences…

Oranor, 2989 -- Later

Of all the blasted things I’ve heard this week -- nay this day, I swear that this is the worst of them all. Balin has decided to let three dwarves “scout” Mirkwood as if this dratted forest is scout-able. They’ll more than likely run into a spider’s web or loose themselves and die of starvation under the trees -- but that would never happen because some monstrous creature will nab them first.

Orithil, 2989

I’m still trying to decide whether I should scold Balin or celebrate. The three dwarves did scout and yes they did get captured. But they weren’t rescued by us, but by Lînsie and her elf customer. Now there is a dwarf that has some sense. He’s not looking for arguments but is anxious to keep the peace -- even though her reason is strictly business. If it hadn’t been for them, they’d be being digested in a spawn of Ungolient’s stomach right about now. Balin, for honor’s duty, refused to ask the elf for directions. At least he managed a stiff sort of thank you, but still…

Orbelain, 2989

It’s been a bit odd…strange, ghostly voices have been echoing around us, or shouting insults at us depending on its mood. I don’t know why I think this, but I suspect that the elf has something to do with it. Balin probably knows this as well, which is why he is following the voice.

Orgilion, 2989

We made it out of Mirkwood…finally. Sent the raven to King Dain to tell him the news.

Oranor, 2989

It rained today, making our cram somewhat soggy and thus more chewable…but it was as if we were eating paste, which is still better than starving. Loni and Frar went hunting and managed to catch a relatively plump hare which did brighten up the dank evening. Nali sung songs about the fire. I am concerned about Nali -- he seems so strange at times. Sometimes a strange light comes into his eyes…once he seemed to totter back towards Erebor, but, with great force of will, he came back to us. I do not doubt his bravery as he was highly spoken of back in the Lonely Mountain.

[a period of about a month was soiled by the rain]

Ormenel, 2989

We are finally here. A dead silence hangs in the air and Nali and Floi reported signs of orcs near the Great Gates. We plan to enter them by dawn. Broad steps, carved from the mountain’s rock, leads up to the gate. They are crumbling from age and weather and harmful insects…I fear that Khazad-dum has already crumbled beyond repair.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"We have news, your Majesty!"

The great double doors at the far end of Dain's stone hall flew open dramatically as a flustered courtier burst in, a scroll crumpled in one upheld fist. Dain, seated on his throne at the other end of the hall, surrounded by three advisors, rose immediately, his bushy brows lowering and meeting in the middle like a malevolent caterpillar. His hands gripped the arms of his throne as he glared icily at this intruder upon the ceremony of his courtroom.

"What is the meaning of this impudence?!" he bellowed. Courtiers quailed.The advisors each made the well informed choice to discreetly take a few steps backwards. Nearly one hundred disapproving glares settled on the dishevelled individual at the end of the hall, framed stoutly in the arch of the huge doors. But the dwarf didn't seem put down; he gave the scroll another wave as he continued.

"But your majesty - this news is from the company of Balin!"

Immediately Dain's countenance changed as his eyebrows shot up, azure eyes wide in surprise. Around the courtoom, a murmur rippled like wildfire, and even the advisors exchanged shocked looks; it had been over two months since the last word from Ori. Dain had to raise his voice over the rest as he beckoned the dwarf hastily, clearing his throat which at first had not yielded any words.

"Well, come on then, man! Tell me - no, tell all of us what they say!" he implored, settling back in his seat. The courtier paused nervously, then faced the courtroom, half turned to the king but allowing all to hear, before he cleared his throat and smoothed the scroll, holding it ceremoniously in front of him. As he began to speak, his deep voice reverberated solemnly around the stone walls, the nervousness swallowed in the accoustics.

29 Ormenel 2989

From the company of Lord Balin son of Fundin to King Dain Ironfoot of Erebor.

"Yes, yes, get on with it..." Dain muttered impatiently. The courtier gave him a nervous glance, then continued. Dain settled back and let the words flow over him, closing his eyes, his fingertips pressed together in front of his bearded face.

My Lord and King Dain,

We have made it to the gates of Moria! The great kingdom, and all the treasures within now lie within our grasp, the grasp of our company and hence of Erebor, for this kingdom will once again be reigned over by the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain.

Ori keeps track of all of this in his diary - a large, leather bound journal. He is the one to chronicle our progress and when we return, you can see all that we achieved, for he seems to write in the minutest detail. Until then, my King, I shall not report every detail to you, for other things must take presidence at the moment: in the morning, we intend to cross through the Great Gates, resplendid in their ancient glory, and the image of what they will become under our rule!

May your anvils resound and your fields be plentiful.

Ever your servant,

Balin, son of Fundin.

Dain smiled to himself, opening his eyes as the narrator finished with a slight flourish on Balin's name. A sigh rippled around the room and once more the murmuring of the courtiers swelled up as each imagined what they would tell their grandchildren - imagine, that they were there when the arrival of the great Balin to Moria was announced! But the reader was not finished yet, it seemed, for he cleared his throat and began to speak again, over the rest.

"No, that is not all - your majesty," he added, hastily, with a nervous glance at Dain. "There is more, although it is in a different hand-"

Dain sat up slightly. "A different hand?" he inquired sharply. "Flowing, elegant?"

"Indeed, majesty," the dwarven courtier replied, surprised, as he glanced down at the scroll, then he cast a more appraising look at it. "My, it is fine indeed - and if it doesn't seem to be written in elvish runes!" He cleared his throat, peering at the letter as he opened his mouth to interpret the runes to the room in general, but Dain stopped him, rising sharply again with speed far beyond his age.

"No. No, I think that this part may be for myself," the King replied, stepping forward slightly. The courtier looked slightly put out, but covered it quickly as he nodded, slightly puzzled, and handed the scroll over to his King, bowing. Swelling visibly with pride, he sauntered back through the hall to his place, standing beside the rest. The dwarves tried to cover their excitement, but those closest began whispering to him excitedly, and others joined in, while the narrator bathed in their attention as others even began to leave their places to come closer.

But Dain didn't even seem to notice as he scanned Ori's smooth elvish script. He had expected the whole letter to be from his young friend and correspondant, but now he saw why Ori had chosen to write afterwards, and in a more secretive form. The young dwarf had always written well in elvish runes as well as dwarven, and even seemed to prefer them, whilst Dain had taken an interest in languages when younger, finding them useful for both politics and trading with other nations, as well as being something to occupy his sharp mind. These things went together well and made for a perfect way for the pair to communicate more mysteriously without the aid of anything as obviously secretive as an actual created code or cipher. As Dain scanned the letter, he realised why Ori had chosen to write like this, latching onto odd words and phrases.

Decrepit....

...the Great Gates are crumbling and worn...

I know not how we will manage to breach the gates if anything does indeed reside within, for the high walls (unusually high for a kingdom of our people) are dotted with holes....and I fear something...does reside within...

...I fear Khazad-dum may already be crumbled beyong repair...

Dain sighed slightly and turned quickly to face his chaotic courtroom. "Fetch me that raven!" he bellowed. "And clear this room!"

[The Perky Ent]

They spiders, they all should die,
as they captured and tried to kill me like a fly!
But i escaped, and now were gone,
and soon we'll be near the riches i faun.
Out of the forest we traved to
the Misty Mountains, white and blue.
And up the steps we go,
and surely we will find great woe
but until then i will trod on my tip toe

[Carlas]

The great hall had become silent as the orcs stood silently, waiting to hear what Nazklash had planned. Many of them still had doubts about Nazklash, he was so much smaller than other orcs but his stare was hard and firm, and none at that moment dared to make a sound.

Nazklash once again took his place on the large boulder facing the crowd of orcs and stood as tall as his small back would permit. He stared out over the large group and smiled a hideous smile that could hardly be seen in the dim lighting of the hall. Nazklash had always known he could lead the armies in Moria better than the chief, or perhaps anyone, but he had never imagined that he would one day actually be standing infront of the orcs like this, with their full attention. Everything had happened so fast that he had hardly even had the chance for it all to sink in, but now was not the time to think on such things, he had to get the meeting going again.

“You all know tha the chief has gone off with some of his best, and most loyal soldiers. There’s no way that we could beat ‘em in a normal fight, even with all of us ‘ere, their some of the strongest and smartest orcs in Moria. What we need to do, if we want any chance a winning, we need to surprise ‘em, so they don’t have a chance to prepare ‘emselves…”

Just before Nazklash could utter the next word, he heard a loud grunt coming from one of the orcs near the front. He looked down and saw a relatively small orc with only his left eye with which to see and almost half his index finger cut off. “An how do we do that?” The orc asked loudly, so that everyone else could hear. “They’ll know something’s wrong if they come here and they can’t find noone cause we’re all hiding ready to fight. An there’s no way to travel in these halls without those other orcs hearing us coming.”

“I know that! You just wait ‘til I finish talking before you start askin’ questions that already ‘ave answers!” Nazklash snapped at the orc sharply. The orc shut his mouth quickly and looked to the side, annoyed but not willing to argue again.

Nazklash watched the orc for a moment before looking back over the group. He scowled and started to speak, but with more authority then before. “The chief should be comin’ back tonight, so we don’t ‘ave long to get ready, so you better pay attention and no more interruptions unless it’s somthin thats actually important.” He looked around at the faces of the orcs in the group and continued on once he knew everyone understood. “There’s a large passage only about a half hours march away and it’s the only way for ‘em to get from there to ‘ere unless they want it to take another 3 days. The passage is filled with lots of columns and rocks that ‘ave fallen from the walls. We can wait there for ‘em to come and all of ‘em to be in there, then we can attack ‘em from above, behind, and infront, trap ‘em completely”

Nazklash saw many orcs in the crowd smile darkly as they realized that the plan could actually work, if done right, but they also knew that one slip up could cost them a lot. Nazklash continued on. “Now we don’t have much time, you can either stay ‘ere , or come with me and finally be able to kill the chief! But anyone who does stay ‘ere will be killed the moment we get back.” He paused. “So, if you’re comin, get your armor and start preparing to fight!”

The large mass of orcs immediately started to move in two different directions. The larger group started to head to where their armor was kept, and a much smaller group started to leave the hall. Nazklash watched the group carefully before walking over to Lugnush. “Go around and head ‘em off, kill ‘em.” Lugnush smiled his hideous, twisted smile before gathering some orcs quickly and heading off down a smaller passage. Nazklash watched as the last orc was swallowed by the darkness of the passageway before he went to see how the other orcs were coming along.

[Imladris]

The sun flashed between the mountain crags as it rose into the sky, pushing the grey dusk before it. Below, in the dwarves’ camp, a thin rabbit rotated upon a make-shift spit. Herbs were rubbed into the flesh and the aroma was tantalizing. Loni was busy frying some sausages in a skillet one of the dwarves had thought to bring along, while Flori, Ori, and Balin were holding a sort of counsel among themselves.

“We should send some dwarves to scout,” Flori said glancing at the high walls.

“I don’t think that’s really necessary,” said Balin, his eyebrows squinting in the sun. “Besides, it would be dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ori. “They would be in stealth, while the whole of us could well enough catch the attention of anything that might be lurking in the dark caverns of Moria.”

Balin nodded, and said, “Yes…there is that. But consider it this way: three dwarves are much more easily surprised, routed, and slain than the rest of us combined. I think we would have a better chance if we attacked at once.”

Flori glanced at Ori and then said softly, “I think you’re making a mistake, Balin.”

“We have what…fourteen dwarves? Say that three were either slain or injured if they were attacked. That would bring the number down to eleven making our force even weaker if there be enemies to fight, which I highly doubt.”

Flori shrugged, and said, “As our leader, we must abide with what you say.”

There was a short pause before Ori said, “I’m going to have a bit of breakfast.”

“After everyone is done eating we will attack or merely enter the Mines, depending on what fortune has placed in our way,” said Balin with a smile.
~~~~~~~
Packs slung across their backs, axes newly sharpened gripped firmly in their hands, the dwarves marched towards the Great Gates. The air was very still, shadows mottled the crumbling steps. Balin decided to consider the stillness as result of empty caverns of Moria rather than as a warning about what may be waiting for them in the dark shadows.

The Gates were in a sad state of disrepair. They sagged upon their tarnished hinges and the rotten wood of the gates was warped from sun, wind, and snow. Balin gazed upon them, mentally determining that the Gates should be among the first things to be fixed once they were settled in Dwarrowdelf.

There was a soft whistle, and crude arrow, fletched with black feathers, arched from the ramparts of the walls, and landed with a shrill ping against Balin’s helmet.