The Blade and Blood Tavern

[Gurherdir]

What's a pirate port without a tavern anyway? Seated at the heart of Umbar, the Blade and Blood serves a rather different group of clients than you may find in others. Come here to find mercenaries for hire, have a drink, or get into a fight with the locals. Ah, 'tis the life of a corsair.

[Andeerasin]

Nightfall had come and a cloaked, burly figure entered the tavern of Umbar. It was rich with the smell of smoke and herbs, and filled with sounds of animals and laughter. The dogs of the Corsairs were often brought to the taverns for laughs and used to do things only dogs would do.

As Grashnik seated himself amongst the crowd present he drew some stares from various eyes. The corsairs and soldiers of the area thrusted him dark looks. They knew him to be the one who had ravaged their streets only one month earlier and when they learned that he was rewarded for such deeds their hatred only grew larger. Grashnik himself smiled and looked towards the corsairs, his sharp orcish teeth bared into what seemed a snarl of sorts. The people of the tavern returned to their antics and drinks, feeding their kanine companions beverages of much potency. Obviously they cared little for their comrades. Something Grashnik knew all to well.

A woman dressed in loose, colorful clothing approached his table and set a large wooden goblet of a black steamy liquid before him. It was orc draught mixed in wine from Dorwinion. Grashnik was unable to resist the substance ever since his seemingly subconcious equal dissapeared from the dark fabrics of his troubled mind.. or so he thought. Grashnik took the liquid in his disfigured hands and inhaled the steam rising from the rancid liquid. This drew further stares from the patrons of the tavern though these looks were ones of disgust, not hatred. Once Grashnik was satisfied with himself and had taken in enough of the aroma to kill a rodent, he drained it from the goblet with utmost pleasure. The people of the tavern had already begun to depart and those that lingered had seen enough of this wily creature. They quickly pushed their seats aside and exited the taver, leaving their sickly companions where they were.

Grashnik was pleased with himself, having caused the many people around him to leave him alone in the large establishment. Though the patrons were lucky enough to leave, the ones forced to stay there and serve him were not. As Grashnik received many more of the stimulating drinks, he was driven into a fit of rage. A lust for blood even. The dark fluid was similar to the sort that Saruman distributed to the Uruk Hai to rouse their lust for blood and enhance their physical form.

Grashnik leaped from his seat when after he had consumed his fill and turned the tables of the inn over onto the floor and breaking the shards into mere shards of wood. The many woman working at the tavern, who's main duty was to visually please the men after long days of work, ran in terror while one man remained to defend his precious home. Grashnik approached him with arms stretched out, his eyes glazed, and muscles tense. As he jumped onto the large tables set about the inn he felt his energy drain. The room about him swirled and all that he could still see was the moving figure of the man he was about to kill. Grashnik charged forward and saw the glimmer of a knife held before him. He jerked his hand forward and grasped the wrist of his victim tightly before twisting it around and breaking his arm. A smile dawned on his lips as he lifted his hand slowly and quickly inserted his sharp, blade-like nails into the pathetic man's terrified eye sockets. He felt the warm sensation of blood begin to trickle down his hands and he smiled in delight as his victim slumped to the floor.

Grashnik looked towards the floor and was terrified to see the hard wood shifting like waters before him. Soon the familiar image of the tavern transformed into another location entirely, though real to Grashnik, was only a distant memory of his subconcious. Soon he invisioned the Tower of Taniquetil and at it's top stood Inwe, king of Elves aswell as Manwe and Varda, King and Queen of Arda and all of it's inhabitants. Before the blinding light of the Queen of the Stars, Grashnik sank to the ground and saw himself for what he truly was. An elf by the name of Mahtan. A clear voice then beckoned to him and as he lifted his head he saw that he too was on top of Tanequetil, kneeling before the feet of Ingwe, Manwe, and Varda. Their eyes were bright but also sullen with the weights of sadness long pressed on them. Manwe held his hand forth and his voice entered Grashnik's mind like the wind and he felt the light of the stars surrounding him. Mahtan sheilded his eyes with his fair elven hands for he was in awe of the immense beauty of the true Anatars. As Grashnik "Repent for the deeds you have done." When Grashnik removed his hand he saw that it was once again the mangled claw of an orc. Grashnik felt his face and his arms. It was true. He was still a hideous orc. As he glanced around the tavern in fear, towards the debree of what was once tables and chairs and towards the lifeless body of an innocent man he knew that wich he had done and fled the bar. He knew he could not run and now he only wanted to hide from his true masters and to avoid their presence at all cost. I shall evade their watchful eyes and seek shelter in the shadows of darkness.