Remnants of the Horde-Flight from Aruth

[Uriel]

<Retro>
Midnight fang and the Bas-Relief

Staring at the Door brings a series of emotins to Sellenais' mind.
First elation at such a place where Fiends obviously hold sway, the scene showing winged forms capering in glee and stabbing at the tortured souls writhing in flame-filled Pits. A massive Fiend holds Court over all,as his lessers do his bidding. The Fiends begin to move and those trapped to writhe about, as if they were alive...
Then a feeling of longing takes hold of her, longing to sample the pleasures of complete indulgence in her superiority over those trapped.
Thirdly, the inkling in the back of her mind that she only need open the door and she could join in the fun...
The huge Fiend in the Bas-Relief turns it's head and looks right out of the metal into Sellanais' eyes...Open the Door.

Midnigh Fang is jolted out of her reverie by Valrack, who pokes her in the shoulder with his staff.'Trap not, get yourself, Half-Elf...that Magic strong and Foolish to toy with. The Necromancer then moves down the Hallway.
As she departs, Sellanais feels the Fiend's eyes upon her again, though when she looks back, the scene is as it was when she first looked upon it.


Nearly an hour to the minute after the Troll departed the room, the Door opens and the massive Troll again stands before you all.'The Madam will see you now, follow me.' Leading the way, the troll moves off down the Hall again, which seems to have grown even more immense since last you saw it.
For a full three minutes you walk, passing doors on either side and several passages leading off into other parts of the 'Cottage'/ Finally the Troll stops at a set of Double-Doors, pausing to retrieve his Keyring. Lifting yet another Silver Key, he inserts and opens the door.

The Troll waves you in, as he announces in a booming double voice
'Envoys from Fell Lord Zuregath, may his Scales remain the Blood Red of his bloodiest foes, may his Wings blot out the Sun, May his Fire be kindled amongst the Cities of the Elves funtil every last trace of Elven Blood is eradicated from the World.' The Left-Head leers at Sellanais at this, his fangs dripping long stringy saliva.

The Chamber is a large affair, ceilings vaulting even higher than the Hall that you have just exited. the smell of incense and burning peat permeates the room, as well as the underlying smell of fresh blood.

Standing against the far wall are near two dozen Beings, the Ogre that you saw in the anti-chamber, as well as the Orc and Bugbear. Several more Orcs, Hobgoblins and even a Hill Giant.
Some have their mouths sewn shut, while others have digits removed from hands, one has a sewn shut eye, another an arm seemingly stitched to his side...

A Throne of bones stands upon a dais at the far end of the room, though the bones are all very small...the bones of Children, the young of many races visible in the jumble of bones.
Gargoyles peer from along a ledge, hissing and snarling at you, and in the Darkness behind the throne Something even Darker stops it's movements, taking note of you.

Standing there, you all feel rather uncomfortable, not merely because there are so many creatures with you as their focus of attention. In Myrach such was often the case, where one might have to give a report to a Dragon for instance...No, the feeling that trickles into your brains (even the slow moving brain of Bargo) is that they look at you as if they expect something of you.
'Greetings,Ogre Durgo, Champion of Zuregath,and Bargo,Son of the great Durgo, though you are great in your own way, I suspect...Goblins Wekerak, fastest Wolfrider in Zuregath's Horde, and Valrack...Delver into things best left alone, but irresistably Delicious,Yenoghu's Favored Kurg, Sellenais,Daughter of a maligned yet wickedly superior Heritage. What brings you to my Humble Cottage,eh?'
Standing before you, not twenty feet away, where nothing was before is a creature...you mind boggles at her form, for it constantly shifts, Painfully beautiful Maiden,to a massively muscled female Ogre Warior, to an Elven Sorceress, to a hideously Ugly Harridan, more foul than any troll, to a Draconian Maid resplendant in black scales to an impossibly Voluptuous Giantess. This last form stays, the creature standing some twelve feet tall. Blue-black skin covers her body, her eyes slitted yellow. her hair a long mass on tangled green <looking somewhat like the branches of a Weeping Willow>. The Hag , for surely she must be the Hag, smiles..showing row after row of tiny sharp teeth, like a Shark. Smoothing her pale yellow shift, for she barely wears a stitch, so sheer and small is her dress,the Hag smiles again, waving you all closer. 'What can I do for you all,hmm? The Legion does not come into my Demnesse, so that I have aided you with already.I opened a Path for you to my Cottage, so that too was a Gift, for else you might have ended your days very Badly.There are things in this Morass that do not recognize even My Authority, or that of my Sisters, yet on my Path, they leave you alone. And lastly, I am prepared to offer you what you most desperately want: A Way home to Myrach, past the legions.Unless you would rather stay here and serve me...I assure you that the Rewards for such are exquisite.' Looking about, you see a look of unbridled lust in the eyesof some ofthe Hag's servants, whilst others have a look of terror upon their faces. The Hag continues 'These gifts,already given and as of yet to be given are Yours. I merely ask a small favor of you.A trivial thing, really...' The Hag awaits your response.

 

[Velenne]

Durgo looks up and meets the hag's gaze. He is unsure of how to deal with the woman- humble like before a dragon, or strong as before a chief, but he prefers the latter. The way of his own people.

His golden armor has seen better days. It is splattered with the blood of untold elves, pierced by numerous arrow holes, dull with the dried grime of swampwater, but nevertheless maintains its superior craftmanship and inherant enchantment. The helm rests upon his head still, though the plumage was singed off in the early moments of the charge into the Legion's vanguard. He is tall, square-jawed, thick-shouldered, and proud.

"I am Durgo. I am Gulgathan. My blood is the richest of all ogres and stronger than any other," he recites the words his father taught him, and his father before him, down the line of the Protectors. "Zuregath not dead. We regroup in Myrarch and him meet us there. But we must go fast and escape or all is lost and Legions take over."

He had rehersed the words all hour, trying to make them sound fancy so the hag would not think him dumb. Durgo was quite pleased with his performance, in fact.

"What you want from us?"

 

[Uriel]

The Hag smiles at Durgo's display, tne, moving to her throne, she sits and smiles again, one impossibly long talon caressing the skull of a small elf-child. 'Why my good Ogre,' she begins 'I merely need to you infiltrate the Cottage of my Sister Reluga and kill her for me.'

 

[Jeremy]

Bargo looks left and right at the spoils and temptations, the offers of riches and passions, and totally misses all the stitching on the servants. He grins and giggles, drooling a little all the while nodding his head.

Stupid Durgo no beat Bargo if Bargo rutting with Hag-folk. Maybe Bargo stay. See how long Durgo live without Bargo to kill all Durgo en-mees.

"Hu hu hu hu hu... hu.. hu... ... huh?" Bargo stops as he can hear Elf-Splitter whispering to him of blood and chaos, of being covered in the twisting squishy insides of elfies and elf-friends, of bathing in the hot sticky blood of his foes...

"...my Sister Relu... ...d kill her f... me."

"Kill..." Bargo echoes darkly, the light of sanity very dim in his eyes as he can almost feel the blood pouring over him and Red almost over takes him right then.

His breathing gets faster and his muscles bulge as he grips his sword and grins. He loses himself in a daydream of bodies shorn in half, their upper bodies thrashing around uncomprehending of the fact that they are already dead.

 

[Capellan]

Wekerak stands beside Frostbite, seemingly at ease. But he is silently measuring the distance to the hag with his eyes, muscles taut as he waits to hear the ogre's response.

"I have not tasted hag flesh." the goblin comments, tongue sliding wetly across pointed teeth. It is not clear if his throughts are on Reluga, or the hag before him.

 

[Velenne]

A look of boredom cross Durgo's face. Kill a woman? He could send the gobbie to do that! His only concern lie with expediancy.

"How long dis take? Must hurry! Go fast! You let us out, we come back later and Zuregath's army kill woman for you."

He waits to see if the hag accepts his offer, but the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him she won't. Stuipid hags and their mojo...

 

[Uriel]

The Hag looks upon Durgo with a bemused disdain 'This is no mere Woman, Durgo. Would that me or my Scions could get close, I would do this myself, yet a Pact exists that Binds me from doing so. No such safeguard keeps you and your followers from the act, however. I assure you that the rewards that I will bestow as well as the trinkets that she has acquired will also aid you greatly.There is also my ability to send you quickly to your own Realm.' With this, the Hag points to a Pool at one end of her Audience hall, where the dark waters churn and boil. Seconds later, the waters still, and Castle Zuregath can be clearly seen, as if you were there looking at it from the Gates. The Hag says 'My Sister's Cottage lies across the Marsh to the South-West. My Familiar will show you the Path.She must lie dead within 2 nights time, her Heart within my grasp as proof.' An oily feathered Owl flies downfrom some rafter up on high, alighting itself upon the hag's shoulder, then it Speaks ,using Giantish 'I do as you Command, Mistress.' The Hag looks to Durgo to see if he accepts the Mission.

 

[Velenne]

Durgo frowns, knowing it's all probably a trick. Still, there's nothing else they can do here except die in battle, and he's not ready for that yet. And how was the hag gonna get him to Myrmach using a bunch of water? Stupid mojo...

"We do this," he says, nodding, "and you send us to Castle. Two days. Bring heart. We go."

He looks back to see Bargo in a haze again, giggling to himself. He grabs his son by the chin and shakes the half-ogre's head vigorously. "Come. We go. Now!"

 

[Jeremy]

Bargo roars and throws Durgo's hand off, itching for blood. The Red threatens to take him over he's so close to it.. But they are going to hunt. They are going to kill.

Bargo can wait. Better to kill and get lusty woman for it than kill and get beaten.

 

[Orochi]

As the larger ogre's hand flies back from the pawn ogre, Kurg slips towards him, looking for a second as though he is going to tear a chunk from the brute's throat. Instead, he simply gets close to the leader of this little band, speaking in a low voice, trying to maintain some kind of propriety in the presence of this powerful entity.

"Maybe you ask what hag-sister lair has to protect? Traps, spells, servant creatures, what waits?"