Last Hope for Moria RPG

[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.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Not much had been heard from Malí, to be sure. Balin's deat hhad put her into a stupor that she could not release her mind from. Since his death she had resigned herself to the shadows of empty halls or even just in the Chamber of Marzarbul, only to be alone. She did not fit in with the warriors, not even with the only other female, Lin. No, Malí hated herself for not being more brave or fierce like the other warriors. She knew now that the adventure was not for her, even if she had realized it far, far too late.

The sentiment that discouraged her the most was the deaths of all the wonderfully brave dwarves that did belong in the warrior's world. Malí wondered every day why she was not the first dwarf to die, as she was not useful to the group in a way that mattered.

So it did not surprise her when the tremors began to rip through the Chamber that all she did was whimper silently. Malí listened as Ori and Flori argued and yelled at each other, and Malí wished she could help.

When the hinges of the Chamber door flew open, the first black-shafted arrow belonged to Malí's heart. Her only regrets as she died were that she did not die first, and that she could not have been more of a help.

[Imladris]

Ori darted frantically towards the book. What his brother said was true: their story must be written, must be remembered. Who would ever find the book Ori did not care to think about. It would lie here in Moria, Khazad-dum, to be found by the next group of dwarves to undertake the great task of conquering the once great kingdom.

Ori was glad that he could cast off his facade of optimism. He had never had any real hope that they would ever depart from Moria alive. Mali fell, and he turned away. The women -- what had Balin been thinking to bring them along? He pushed the thought from his mind. He thought of Narin and Linsie, how love had begun to blossom between them. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears.

The ground shivered. Drums beat in the deep. The stone trembled. Ori glanced around him, and saw his brother wildly fighting the orcs, wielding a light battle axe with one arm. The end was coming.

The drums in the deep. Doom, boom, boom, doom . They were the heralds of death, and Ori prayed that death would come swiftly to them. A distant roar echoed through the caverns. The orcs fell quiet, and Flori had a respite. The roar chilled Ori's bones.

He tossed the book onto Balin's tomb, and began to scribble frantically as the orcs renewed their attack. He had to help his brother...he had to, even though there was no chance he could save him. They would fight the oncoming tide together, and they would die together. They would die like true dwarves of Moria, of the great Khazad-dum.

The pen scratched, scrawled across the stained surface of the book:

The pool is up to the wall at Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Oin. We cannot get out. The end comes. Drums, drums in the deep. They are coming.

Ori closed the book with a snap, drew his axe, and ran towards his brother, roaring. They had killed everyone...Narin, Alrik, the lasses. But they, the last dwarves of Moria, would not die quietly.

Ori dimly realised that Flori had fallen, an arrow embedded in his throat. A searing, ripping pain tore at Ori's back, and he staggered to his knees. He could feel the ground tremble, could hear the doom of the drums quicken. He raised his eyes, and saw a lurid glow burn within the halls. He collapsed to the floor, and whispered, "They are coming!"

[piosenniel]

~*~ To Elvenhome ~*~