Last Hope for Moria RPG

[Orual]

Óin, his eyes still foggy with sleep, stumbled out of his house. It was far too early in the morning. Glóin had spent the evening with him, into the early hours, wishing him off with a nice supper, since the soon-to-be adventurer had left the celebrations early.

"It's no good going into an expedition with an attitude like yours, Óin," Glóin commented, taking his pipe out of his pack. "The beginning of an adventure...bother, where did I put that pipe...the beginning...ah, there it is...where was I?"

"The beginning of an adventure..." prompted Óin, a little grumpy still but willing to listen to his brother after a good supper.

"Oh, right. The beginning of an adventure is the mold by which the whole adventure is formed. You can be the ill-tempered old coot who everybody wishes had stayed home, or you can enjoy it. Just think of old Bilbo. He didn't want to go, either, but he developed a taste for it by the end. Remember those spiders?"

The brothers laughed nostalgically, and then Óin sighed. "This isn't the same sort of adventure at all," he said. "No there-and-back again, as Bilbo put it. This is there-and-stay-there."

"Then why go?" Glóin asked, leaning over the table. Óin remained silent. "If you really don't want to go, Balin would understand."

A sullen, closed-off look crept onto Óin's face. "Balin would understand, but I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened that maybe I could have prevented," he responded.

Glóin sighed. "Do what you must, Óin, but be truthful to yourself." He stood up, and walked over to his brother's chair. Óin stood up in turn, and Glóin embraced him. "Do what you must," he repeated.

Óin walked out into the waning starlight, and took a deep breath of the crisp pre-sunrise air. Now for it. Now for glory and honor.

He snorted. Now for a lot of walking, at least. Time to go see Moria.

[The Perky Ent]

The battle in the darkness began. As the battle raged, Nali took out his ax and began swinging it like a sickle. One by one, orc’s started to fall off the bridge. It looked easy, until Nali noticed two dwarf’s fall off to join the dead. During the battle, a large, fat orc jumped up behind the dwarf Maron. It seamed like he would also join the dead, until Nali threw his ax and the orc fell into the chasm. Maron would have thanked him, had he not 40 orcs to deal with, so Nali ignored and began swatting orcs with his club.

One by one, the thousands of orcs began to die. It seamed like the dwarf’s would eventually win. With only a few orcs left, Nali no longer needed to fight, so he sat on a rock and watched the dwarf’s brawl. As he watched, he noticed a shimmer under the belley of a dead orc. As Nali lifted the orc and threw him aside, he saw it. Beautiful, Precious, Perfect. Mithril. A small hunk of mithril was now in Nali’s possession. With joy, Nali began to sing:

though the fire and darkness consumed
I need not ever sweep with broom,
No longer slave on wooded loom,
For now I cannot meet my doom.
For I have a piece of heaven.

Suddenly, as Nali was looking at the mithril, the fighting stopped. There was silence. Then, there was a faint voice echoing in the bridge. It was a orc. He was singing. Suddenly, a giant army of orcs rushed into the bridge, leaving Nali and the others un-prepared. Nali sprang up with his new mithril to join his last battle.

These orcs fought with ten times the strength of their predecessors. As one orc approached the battlefield, the other orcs moved away from his path. Clearly he was a leader. Without thinking, Nali charged at the orc and swung his club at it. In the blink of an eye, the orc blocked it and threw the club off the bridge. “I am Uzgash. I command. I win.” The orc said as he prepared to finish off Nali. Finding his only hope, Nali took out his mithril, and with a sigh, he thrusted it into the orcs chest. With a great scream, the orc fell off the bridge.

Nali, however, didn’t hear the screams of Uzgash. Something was wrong. Then, before Nali could breath, Uzgash jumped up from the bridge and chopped off Nali’s leg. Nali began to fall. As he fell, Uzgash started singing:

My Blade Went Chop Chop
And His Leg Went Plop Plop

He Had Laughter
But I Was Faster
He Should Have Ducked
He's Out Of Luck

My Axe Went Swish Swish
His Blood Went Squish Squish

He Knocked Me Down
That Bearded Clown
He Beat My Chest
But Now He's Laid to Rest

My Knife Went Swoosh Swoosh
His Limbs Went Sploosh Sploosh

He Thought Me Dead
He Died Instead
He Was Tough
But Not Enough

The Dwarves March Boom Boom
My Axe Swings Doom Doom

As Nali fell, he could see light, and his leg, drift out of focus and then dissapear. After a few seconds, Nali could see nothing. “It was all in vain. Darkness has consumed fell” Nali said as he gave up hope of surviving and began to fall even faster. And as Nali saw the rocks at the bottom of the chasm grow closer, he could only thing of one thing.

Freedom

[mark12_30]

Linsie and Narin came down through several back passages, and then came up against a wall of orcs. They could see their friends on the far side, and the orcs could see them. Narin and Linsie shared one glance and then the orcs were upon them.

Linsie stepped away from Narin, and their axes flashed in the torchlight. With a ferocity neither knew they poseessed, they strode through the wall of enemies, leaving corpses in their wake. They hardly saw them, and indeed, hardly saw each other, til they had won entirely through to the other side. A cheer rose from the dwarves, and they sprinted to join their friends. They were almost there when an arrow pierced Linsie's shoulder at her armor joint. She kept running, and she and Narin left the rest of the orc-arrows behind.

"You have been hit, " Narin said to Linsie, full of concern.

"It is not bad, " Linsie replied. Narin wished there was time to care for it; there was a brief pause in the fighting. Moren greeted them. "Well done, lads. Quite a bloody trail you left behind you. That's worth a song."

Linsie and Narin looked back, and saw what Moren meant. There were a dozen dead orcs and several more wounded where they had won through. They shared a satisfied nod, but Moren noticed they did not smile. He guessed why.

"Oin...?"

Linsie shook her head. And Narin replied, "We did find the far Hollin Gate. And the way was clear... almost."

"What befell him?"

"We opened the gates, and stepped outside. But the light coming in through the gates half blinded us. We did not see the orcs coming behind us til they were almost upon us. They were just a few guards, but we had to fight them. And they drove us out the gate and towards the water. We wondered why."

Moren shuddered. "I could have told you... the Watcher."

Linsie's voice was very cold. "Narin tried to save Oin, as did I. But we had orcs on one side, and snake-creature on the other. The orcs are dead. But we could not kill the snake-creature."

"He is dead, then. Was it quick?"

Linsie said, "I wish it had been quicker. He was defiant to the end."

Moren bowed his head.

"We shall do the same, " said Narin. Moren looked at him, and at Linsie. He was surprised at how little they said.

Their brief respite ended, and the orcs attacked again.

[Imladris]

Ori and the remaining survivors dashed into the Chamber of Records. Maron and Alrik barred the doors while Ori leaned Flori against Balin's tomb. "We are wasting time," Flori shouted, struggling.

"And you are wasting blood, brother," said Ori with a smile, ripping some cloth from a nearby jacket. "I am going to bind the stump, cutting off the flow of blood so that you won'tl faint by the time the orcs finish breaking through. That way you won't die when we flee towards the West Gate."

Flori rolled his eyes, but ceased his struggling. Ori looked at Flori: his cheeks were pallid, and his eyes were glazed. Sweat streamed down his brow and he trembled a little. Ori smiled at him and said, "We'll get out of this one yet." Would they? He doubted it.

If the path to Hollin was clear, they might have a chance. Ori glanced around, seeing who had fallen. Loni, Nali, and Frar were gone. Dead, he presumed. There was small chance they had outrun the tide of orcs..

He shook his head, and concentrated on tying the strip of cloth tightly around Flori's stump. Blood streamed from the wound. His brother might not die at the hand of an orc's, Ori thought dully. He pushed the thought away.

He heard a rush of footsteps and he saw Narin and Linsie. They told him of Oin's death. He could feel the blood drain from his face. Oin...gone. He drew a shuddering breath as the orcs broke through again.

[Taralphiel]

Maron almost fell backwards as the door shook against the weight of the horde of Orcs. He could see Nali's face in his mind as he fell, and he could see the blood flowing over the floor of the chamber.

'I did not even thank him...'

His head snapped up as he heard wood shattering. His grip tightened by instinct. His mind began to race again, though his tired feet were firmly planted. He thought of his Uncle's kind smile and thoughtful words. He knew he would do this deed, and him proud to have raised him.

"For my Uncle..." he mumbled as his axe met crude steel. He threw his weight into his movements, and it seemed to do well against the hefty body of an orc. But his pride and honour fueled him less than what he could have hoped, and soon he felt a sickening blow to his middle. His knees gave way and he toppled to the ground.

He could hear all the shouting around him, and the maelstrom of arrows let fly and clanking of metal, but it grew distant. Maron gave a small smile as he thought of his Uncle's smithy and the dream of moulding truesilver on its anvil.

"Aye, 'twas a nice dream..." he said, closing his eyes.

[Saraphim]

The reaction of Ori and Flori to the news of Oin's demise and the lack of escape threatened to break what was left of Narin's courage.

He felt his strength go, sapped by Lin and his swift battle to the Chamber of Records. A fresh batch of orcs burst through the door, and Narin took his stand next to Lin and tried to quell his pounding heart.

As the orcs bubbled up from the opening, thoughts bubbled from his mind; memories of a life he was proud of, and they gave him strength

He thought of his brother, who had protected King Dain to the death.

He thought of Floi, who had fallen only after slaying a great troll of the mountains.

He thought of Balin, and how the love of Dwarrow-Delf had allowed him an honorable death.

These thoughts fueled his energy as he pushed his was through the fray.

Suddenly, a scream that he recognized tore into his mind. Looking around, he saw Lin fighting tooth and nail with a massive goblin near the wall.

He ran towards her and imbedded one of his axes into the foul creature's back.

In its last moments, the orc turned and stabbed Narin in the stomach.

The orc fell on its face. Narin took longer, dropping to his knees and pulling the blood-covered blade out of his body and letting it clatter to the ground. He kept his remaining axe in his hand and slumped against the wall.

"The pain is gone," he said slowly," I think I will be alright."

He could see Lin in front of him, but the room was growing dark. He smiled.

So my adventure will end as it began, he thought.

"Goodbye, Linsie," He said.

And thus Narin of Moria died.

[Will Witfoot]

Alrik and Maron barred the doors of the Chamber of Records and braced themselves against their wooden bulk, ready to match their strength against those who would force a passage into their lord Balin's resting place. The elderly dwarf took the opportunity presented by the brief lull in the battle to check the others. It did not look too good.

Flori was wounded, his arm having been cut of at the elbow, and all of them bore minor wounds in the least from the battle. He himself looked no better. His white beard was stained black from orcish blood and bile, and his own fiery life-fluid was seeping out from a crag in his armour. His old body had not replied fast enough for him to interfere with the blade a goblin was swinging at him.

They had lost Nali, Frar and Loni, as well as Oin according to Linsie. The rest of them looked fatigued and frightened, yet determined to sell their lives dearly. Alrik felt his heart swell with pride. It would be an honour to fall along with all of them.

Suddenly there was a sound of wood splintering, and the doors began to buckle. The gibbering of goblins could be heard from the other side as Alrik and Maron were forced to back off from the door. There was a great snap and the dual doors swung open, revealing a horde of their ancestral enemies which began to flood into the room in a seemingly inexhaustible tide.

Alrik dispatched the first three to enter the room with swift blows of his axe, but the sheer mass of the goblins were forcing him backwards. It was as useless to try and combat their numbers as it was the flow of a river.
He swung his axe with all the strength in his old sinews, burying the weapon into the midriff of a particularly large goblin. Before he could pull it out, the press of bodies in the melee sent it slipping out of his grasp. Seeing their foe rendered weaponless, the cowardly wretches attacked him en masse.

Desperately he grappled with two of their numbers. The three of them, a dwarf and the spawn of the Great Enemy, rolled on the stone floor locked in a desperate struggle to the death. Alrik's helmet was torn off, but undaunted the dwarf managed to twist the head of one so forcefully that it's neck snapped, and then he proceeded to grab the other by the collar and repeatedly bashed it's head on the floor, till nothing but a red mess remained. Alrik scrambled to his feet and drew the short blade he allways carried by his side for just such an occasion.
He grabbed the haft of a mace swung at him and impaled it's owner on his sword. The goblin spewed it's last meal over itself before keeling over, only to be lost from sight immediately by his still living kin. A swing to the left sliced open the throat of the one that tried to plant a spear in his back, and with a swift lunge the sword was buried in the chest of another.

Suddenly there was a lull in the ruck, and Alrik felt a curious light-headedness. He sensed rather than saw the goblin thät loomed behind him with a spear held at the ready, and began to spin around by instinct, knowing that he would never be able to turn around in time. A white-hot lance of pain shot through his body as the spear pierced the joint in his armour between body and shoulder. His enemy had no time to enjoy it's triumph for long. Alrik's blade took it in the throat, but it's dying weight took the weapon from his hand.

Another lance of pure agony shot through his being, and he realized that one of the goblins had rammed it's blade into his back. A third was swinging it's scimitar at his face.

It was the last thing Alrik Stonebeard ever felt. As darkness claimed his mind, he saw last the tomb of Balin, buried under an avalanche of goblin's.

[mark12_30]

She heard him say it... "Goodbye, Lînsie." Orcs surged towards her, and she raised her axe again, hindered by the arrow in her shoulder.

I wish I had time to compose his body, close his eyes, and cross his hands over his heart. I wish I had time to set that beryl in a ring for him. But at least I know where I will make my last stand.

Standing over Narin's body, she felled each orc that came, until two came together. The spear pierced her heart, and she followed Narin to her final rest on the cold, dark stone of Dwarrowdelf.

[Pyroclastic]

Torch light danced across the walls as Uzgash led his troops to Nazklash’s armory. He was excited, at last here was the end. Nobody knew of his plan, that was how it would be successful. He rounded the cavern corner and spied Lugnush lurking in the shadows. “You ready?” Uzgash ask him.

“I’ve been ready for this for a long time.” Lugnush replied.

“Alright then.” Uzgash turned to his troops and held his torch aloft. “Listen up!” He shouted to the masses. “You all have served me with the devotion and treachery expected among the best of our race. You’re the toughest, strongest, best band of orcs in Moria! The battle you will fight next is not mine, it is Captain Lugnush’s. You will follow him as you followed me; he is worthy. To Captain Lugnush!” Uzgash thrust his sword in the air and shouted as only an orc could. His, or rather Lugnush’s troops shouted in answer.

“Hhragggghhhh!” The screams of the orcs echoed along the corridors. Uzgash turned to Lugnush and beat his axe against the ground in salute. “Do well, Captain Lugnush.” And he marched off into the shadows leaving Lugnush with his newfound power.

*****

At the Gates of Moria Uzgash surveyed for the last time the depth and gloom of Kahzad Dum. The bodies of several dwarves lay strewn about with the bodies of orcs. Orcs, Dwarves, Elves, Men, Uzgash had killed them all and they all died the same. They would all return to the Earth and be made new again. The mass that once was Dwarf would become soil, and then plant, and then animal, until the body had become a part of so many things that it had become the differences that it had once thought so important.

Uzgash stepped beyond the doors of Moria and a single word flashed through his head. He remembered the whisper of one of the dwarves he had killed. Freedom. Moonlight beamed down across the hillside giving a slight luminance to the air. He had missed this. No more caves for Uzgash, he was a free orc now and forever. He felt a slight shiver creep upon him from behind. The Nameless Fear, The Fiery One in the furthest depths beyond all reach remained restless. It sensed the distant approach of power. Not soon, but approaching none the less. Uzgash shuddered, the sooner he left the better. He wasn’t going to be caught in a mess like that. Leave that for Lugnush, Uzgash was free. As he walked off in the moonlight Uzgash at last was content.

[Orofaniel]

Orofaniel's post

"Do well Captain Lugnush!" Uzgash said to Lugnush. Finally Lugnush understood why Uzgash had wanted him to be the next Chief; Uzgash was going to leave them. Lugnush had known for a long time that Uzgash wanted to leave Moria, but never actually thought he'd do it. But now, Lugnush understood that Uzgash had made his decision and given Lugnush the leadership as a "farewell" present, or so Lugnush thought.

There wasn't much time though to say goodbye, because the troops were now running down the halls as they felt an urge for more blood.

Nazklash wasn't exactly hard to find, but the troops surprised him gravely. He stared at Lugnush, as he wanted an explanation. "What are the troops doing here?" he asked seeming a bit annoyed. "Guess!" Lugnush growled. He felt the urge to show Nazklash his strength and power. "Nonsense!" Nazklash cried as he walked towards Lugnush. "You better get those troops back where they belong, or I'll cut your head off!" Nazklash cried. It wasn’t hard to understand that this was meant as a threat. Lugnush was amused by this, because he knew that Nazklash' troop was out of number, and he probably knew it himself.

"Don't threaten me, you filthy Orc!" Lugnush cried above Nazklash voice. The hall was silent and you could only hear Nazklash breathing, heavily. This was either caused by anger or because he was anxious. Lugnush guessed both. "What is this supposed to mean?" Nazklash growled at Lugnush, almost spitting at him. "Guess!!" Lugnush replied, seeming even more amused; Lugnush knew that Nazklash would loose his temper by now, and he was correct indeed; "Do not dare disobey me, Lugnush, or treat me disrespectful!" Nazklash said to him, while looking at Lugnush. His voice was calm, but stern. "And why is that?" Lugnush asked teasingly. He loved doing this, it amusing every time. This story would eventually beat the story where they copped the previous Chief, Lugnush guessed.

The troops were still standing still, but hey were soon starting to get tedious. "Lets do this the quick way then, eh?" Lugnush proposed after a moment with silence. The Orcs woke up and looked at Lugnush waiting for the next move.

"Kill him!!" Lugnush cried finally. A sneer grin appeared in Lugnush face. "Die you filthy Orc!" Lugnush cried again and ran towards him, holding his sword high above his head as he felt the power and the great sensation of pure happiness; because he knew that he had won this battle. He just knew it.

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Carlas' post

"Die you filthy Orc!" Lugnush cried as he ran towards Nazklash, his scimitar high over his head. Nazklash barely had time to think, but ducked out of the way just in time to see Lugnush’s weapon striking the cold floor with a loud clang. He turned to look at the troops running towards him in disarray, and growled loudly before running as fast as he could in the opposite direction but saw that even the few troops he had thought were on his side were chasing after him. Traitors… Nazklash thought to himself.

A passage was just up ahead of them, if he could just make it in there he could slink away in the shadows and no one would be able to find him. Nazklash turned his head back quickly to see how close the orcs were. There was now more than there had been before and they were getting a little too close. He looked back before him and ran with all the strength he could muster towards the small passageway, his only hope of escape.

As he entered the passage he quickened his pace, knowing that Lugnush and the orcs were not far behind. He turned left and right, weaving his way through the maze of tunnels before he squeezed himself into a small crevice barely visible in the darkness. The orcs ran past thinking they were not far behind Nazklash, they’re feet pounding against the dark, cold stone floor. Once the last orc was out of earshot Nazklash sighed deeply, relieved that he was still alive. Suddenly though, he heard soft footsteps coming towards him. He froze and waited to see who it could be.

It was Lugnush.

Slowly Nazklash left the crevice, and climbed up onto the side of the wall. “What do you think yer up to, hmmmm?” He said slowly. Lugnush turned around quickly, but Nazklash was quicker and climbed over to another spot.

“Who’s that? Stop fooling and get Nazklash!” Lugnush said deeply annoyed, obviously not recognizing Nazklash’s voice. “Guess!” Nazklash growled and laughed a sharp, cruel laugh. Lugnush’s eyes grew wide as he realized who it was. “You fool! I’ll kill you!” He cried as he spun around, trying to locate the small orc.

Nazklash moved about swiftly in the dark, making sure to stay out of eyesight. “How long ‘ave you been planning this? Thought that once I killed the chief that you would take over Lugnush? You’re the fool!” Lugnush turned to where the voice had come from, but Nazklash was already behind him. He walked quickly but silently towards Lugnush, holding his knife tightly in his hands. Licking his lips, he pulled his knife back ready to strike.

Nazklash squealed as he fell to the floor. Lugnush had spun around just in time to see Nazklash ready to kill him, and had cut Nazklash across the chest. Lugnush walked towards the orc and threw him flat on the ground and smiled.

Nazklash froze as Lugnush held his weapon up above the small orc. “You’re the fool.” Lugnush whispered into Nazklash’s ear as he buried the weapon deep into his throat…

[Amanaduial the archer]

Flori's teeth were gritted so tightly he thought they would break, or that they would simply meld into one. The pain was more intense than the dwarf had ever felt before and he felt himself sweating coldly simply from the pain, and in a moment felt like laughing about it - he felt the other cuts on his body, and ordinarily they would be easily enough for any weaker being, but this searing, sweeping, numbness was deeper than anything else.

He saw another dwarf fall, Alrik Stonebeard, the oldest of their company, his white beard the only thing visible in Flori's misty vision as the venerable old dwarf fell. Flori yelled out in anger as he forced himself to concentrate his pain on the force of another blow struck against an orc, slicing clear through it's shoddy armour. It died with a look of surprise on it's face.

"Surprise? I'll give you surprise! Flori Bronzeshield will show you how to die!"

Ori looked at him, shocked, as he said this, and the older of the two bit his lip as he felt tears rise and shook his head, leaning against the tomb in a momentary respite. The orcs were gathering in the stairwell, he knew it, but he didn't know exactly what was planned. He looked at his brother sorrowfully, pain in his eyes both physical and emotional.

Nali, Frar, Loni, Oin, Lin, Alrik, Narin...

"We can't do it, brother," he whispered.

"Flori, don't say that! We'll get through, and get-"

"Ori," Flori silenced his brother with the one quiet, gentle word as, putting down his axe for a moment, he reached for his brother's hand. "There are but three of us left. Mali...and us. That's all, Ori. We are finished."

"Flori..." Ori now had tears in his eyes as well as he gripped his brother's hand tightly, as if he would never let go.

And then the first tremor came.

It spread through their feet as if the whole world had jumped, but seemed almost silent at first, a feeling rather than a sound. Flori tensed, grabbing his axe once more as he let go of his brother's hand and spun around to the door, currently blocked, although he doubted that would do much against the orcs. They were still planning....The second boom came, this time a deep, rumbling echo that seemed to roll in from all sides. Flori crouched, almost knocked off his balance but still gripping his axe, his stump pressed against the refreshingly cool stone of the tomb.

"Drumming from the deep..." he whispered, unable to keep the fear from his voice. But there was anger too, as he rose, even as the third boom followed, then a fourth. They were speeding up, building to a climax.

"I will not be intimidated!" he roared at the door, then turned to Ori. "Brother, get the book."

"The book...-?"

"We will not be forgotten, brother!" Turning back to the door, his voice rose to a roar again, a primal, angry bellow that seemed to come from deeper reserved than ever he knew as he voice competed with the accelerating drumming.

"You will not scare us! Give us what you will, you will never inspire fear into dwarven hearts, for we are the people of Durin and upon that which is rightfully ours do we fall!"

And then the hinges on the door burst open.