Morgo walked along the hot paths of Angband. It was musty and incredibly hot. A drop of sweat trickled down his brow. Many shady fellows were walking through the streets, hoods or veils up as if they were concerned about showing their identity. Morgo could care less if someone discovered his identity. He would love to show his brutality.

A young urik hai walked past him, face uncovered like Morgo's. Morgo could see his veins. "All that blood," thought Moro, "can't you feel it flowing over you." Morgo bared his teeth at the urik. "Scumbag! Draw your weapon and fight!" Instantly the urik and orc unsheathed their blades.

The clash of steel was ringing through the streets. Morgo went for a down ward blow, and the urik parried with his blade facing down. Just what he wanted, a deadlock. Morgo quickly ducked, and swung his leg, connecting to the grey skin of the uriks shin. The urik collapsed, but to Morgos shame, rose up quickly, before the orc could impale him. Morgo slashed at his hand with the flat end of his blade. The urik released his grip on his sword, and clenched his hand in pain. Morgo lunged forth and bit at his neck, as black blood squirted out over Morgo. He swallowed the warm blood in his mouth, and relaxed and outstretched his arms, feeling the blood come over him.

The fight caused quite a commotion. Many bars had emptied out to view it.
"What do you want!" Morgo yelled, being sure to show his bloody fangs."Get out of here before I kill you all!" Quickly, the crooks and bandits fled back into the bars and homes, resuming in their normal activities. Morgo scowled and growled as began to walk off. "That hit the spot," he mumbled to himself.

Ethari stood in one of the alleys in the city of Angband. He was watching the fight between that orc and urik. The orc had used a downward slash at the urik, and the urik performed a upward hold on his sword to deflect the blow. It was a simple enough fight now. They were in a deadlock, but the orc then swiped his sword on the ground and tripped the urik. He lunged for a downward stab, but the urik quickly stood up.

He then used the flat of the sword to hit the uriks hand. That was a clever move, for the quick pang of pain would force the hand to release the sword. The orc then bit at the uriks neck, tearing out his wind pipe. Ethari winced at the brutality of this. They had caused quite a commotion. The orc had brutally killed the urik. Ethari stepped forward, his hood covering his eyes, like many others of the city. "You know what I want," Ethari said, "I want you out of this town, and then repent for your sins, or better yet, just kill yourself."

Ethari drew his diamond sword. His sword rang as he drew it, its metal, extremely sharp. He muttered Arcane words under his breath, and shrouded himself with a protection from shadows and light spells. He was granted these abilities from the goddess of Balance herself, and would use them to enforce Balance.

His follower priest was watching his dove in one of the local bars, and did not know of this fight. It was probably better this way, Ethari wouldn't want to harm Tarkin. Ethari then scanned his opponent. He was a bulky orc, and seemed like he did not know magic, but he had another presence to him. He wasn't just a brute, but some what strategic. He would be a difficult opponent.

Ethari muttered more Arcane words and sent a magical net flying towards the orc. Ethari waited to see if the orc had enough reflexes to dodge the net hurdling towards him.

Oglik the Uruk was at the iron gates of Angband, simply minding his own business, threatening those who passed by, the usual. In fact, he had just finished brandishing his axe at some scrawny excuse for a thief. He thought to himself ,Pathetic human probably didn't have enough meat on him to feed a dog. Every weak criminal seems to think that one little crime makes him a big-shot. I'd gladly take a "little of the top", that'd show 'em their place. Sticking his axe into the sand, He cast his cruel gaze over the seemingly-endless sands. He saw some shape, but he could make it out at all. He watched it intently for several minutes. Once it was about 50 feet away, he managed to discern what exactly it was.

It was a human, about six feet tall, clad in a hooded robe that was the color of the sand. The face was entirely concealed by a plain, pure-white mask. His gender was completely unascertainable. Oglik responded to this newcomer as he did all newcomers, and that was by taunting and threatening. "'Ey! You! You want a piece of my axe? I've slain monsters twice the size o' ya! C'mon, you yellow coward!"

The... "newcomer"... simply turned his masked visage towards the Uruk. Then, as his blank stare was locked onto Oglik, suddenly, as if a mouth spewing blood had formed on the mask, several red markings appeared on his mask. It was as though blood poured from invisible lips, as the mask retained its blank form, save for the blood-like markings.

"Alas, such times are these, when wretched peons brandishing unholy steel, can use words, a priceless means to convey truth, so carelessly. It is as if the words they speak are as lost and useless as the blood of their victims which spills the ground. Unfortunately, it seems, the real victim is the one who has entangled himself within the iron-clad webs of his own deceit and delerium. The only hope? A reversal of roles, the spiller becoming the spilled." Even the stranger's very voice made it impossible to identify his gender. The Uruk looked at him with a strange expression, a mixture between utter confusion and pure rage. "AND JUST WHAT THE 'ELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!" The masked stranger cocked his head to the side in an odd, inhuman fashion, and said, "It's time for blood." The Uruk roared, "ARE YOU THREATENING ME?" Deciding to confuse the brutish buffoon, "Not at all. I'm saying that you couldn't punch me if you tried." The foolish orc was so lost amid the sea of verbose conversation, that the maksed stranger could have called him a fish, for all that he knew.

Enraged, Oglik swung hard but clumsily at Benesse with his right arm. Taking his moment of opportunity, Benesse reached down, before the brutish uruk could stop him, and grabbed the axe. Swinging it, with a bit of uncoordination, he managed to his the back of the knee. IF a skilled warrior had done that, it would have severed the leg. However, given Benesse's limited physical prowess, he only just managed to slice an artery.

Blood began to pour from Oglik's leg, and in rage, he swatted Benesse away like a fly. Benesse stood up slowly, and his two sleeves slid back to reveal two hands, like claws, with a pale red skin. Benesse walked slowly up to Oglik, who was fumbling for his axe, when, like a snake, Benesse struck. He used his claw-like hands, and drove their sharp nails into the eyes of the Uruk, gouging and slicing his eyes, rendering him blind. "Eye for an eye... blood has been avenged..." Benesse whispered.

With that, Benesse left the helpless Uruk outside of the gates to die. As he made his way into the city, Benesse chanced upon what appeared to be a conflict between an Angel and an Orc. His clawed hands now hidden once more behind his voluminous sleeves, he watched with interest.

Morgo was being approached by an angel. The celestial began to command him to rid the world of such an evil being.He than summoned a magical net and flung it towards the orc. He quickly dodged it, and the net plastered itself against the wall. It dissipated in a arcane puff. He regained his composure and faced the angel. Morgo began to chuckle. "If I were to kill my self, imagine on how boring the world would be. Every one would be happy, and nowhere would be no danger, no bloodshed. That is my favorite part, the bloodshed, especially if its on me. Ohhhhhhh, I can't wait till I can feel that again," he finished, brandishing his longsword. The black blood from the urik still dripped from the end of the blade.

Morgo quickly surveyed his surroundings for some useful tools. Barrels of liquor were outside the taverns, and broken bottles were every where. Over to the corner was strange...... thing. His gender was difficult to tell, even his species was impossible to determine, a pale white mask covered his face, including his eyes. Perfect, Morgo thought. Right next to the monster was a smashed bottle, the perfect tool to slip an attack.

The angel took him by surprise, and muttered some Arcane speech. A radius of purple launched out. What could that be, Morgo thought. No time to think, got to continue the plan, he pondered to himself. His plan took action.

Morgo purposefully took a obvious sidewards glance towards the onlooker. "What do you want freak!!?!?!?! Stop looking over here!" Morgo strutted over to the newcomer, sword posed in a threatening manner. "You better run away! NOW!" he screamed, posing his blood stained teeth and sword. "You need to get that mask off you wimp, and show every one who you really are!" he tried intimidating. "But you won't, because your a COWARD!"

Many people walking by quickly glanced over at the roar, and quickly averted their gaze, knowing what would happen based on the previous fight. Good, Morgo thought, I might be getting into more fights than I can handle.

((Mistake, wrong account, this is Benesse))

"What do you want, freak! Stop looking over here! You better run away! NOW! You need to get that mask off, you wimp, and show every one who you really are! But you won't, because you're a COWARD!" These words came from the Orc, who seemed to have taken notice of him. Strutting and threatening, he seemed to be wanting to see Benesse's unmasked face. Benesse's head cocked oddly to the side, and red marks resembling blood poured down from the mask's eye holes. It bore the ghastly appearance of one crying tears of blood. Slowly, the white portion of the mask changed to solid black, as did the flesh of Benesse.

Pulling back his hood, Benesse revealed a head that was now solid black, with long, black hair, black skin, black mask, everything. The only things that were not black were the marks on the mask that resembled bloody tears, which were by now a deep crimson. Benesse's voluminous sleeves revealed two pitch-black claws. They were spindly, and sharp, only vague resembling a human hand.

Benesse then turned his solid-black form to face the orc. He then said, “What I want is of little consequence. For it is far too common for our vapors of existence are squandered on meaningless pursuits of the flesh. Too often, blood-lust heightens the euphoric spirit that comes with murder, and drives the dealer of death on to slaughter countless others. The question is, what would it take to halt the mindless butchering of a myriad of innocents? You wish to see who I am? I am no one, and I have no name. I am Benesse, and if you should choose to strike me, it will be your blood that stains this wretched soil.”

“What I want is of little consequence. For it is far too common for our vapors of existence are squandered on meaningless pursuits of the flesh. Too often, blood-lust heightens the euphoric spirit that comes with murder, and drives the dealer of death on to slaughter countless others. The question is, what would it take to halt the mindless butchering of a myriad of innocents? You wish to see who I am? I am no one, and I have no name. I am Benesse, and if you should choose to strike me, it will be your blood that stains this wretched soil.” the shape shifter said. Morgo began to laugh.

"Why should something so counterproductive, such as human essence. Some thing so expendable, shouldn't stop me to enjoy the gratification of the life slowly dissipating from the form of a human. Guilt does not phase me, their is no way that such an emotion would hinder to do what I have a great passion in doing." Morgo grinned, remembering the recent fight, almost feeling the adrenaline rush.

"That is one of the most capital things in an orcs life style. Death is breed in the genes of an orc, and if not displayed prominently, that orc will be shunned. If a blood lust is displayed to prominently, such in my case, the orc will be shunned as well. My thirst for death has even brought me even to annihilate my very own father. I can not help it if I do what I was made for so well, and with such a passion. And now, you will be next." Morgo finished, pointing to Benesse. Immediately, Morgo swooped down, and picked up the broken bottle underneath him, and began an overhead smash on the angel. The glass was sharp and fragmented, but wasn't enough to cause any serious hurt. But it was a tactic. Morgo began the lunge, awaiting the angels next move.

Ethari's regained his composer after hearing the orcs speech. It was wonderful, almost compelling, driving his mind to reach boundaries of chaos of which he had never even came close to thinking of. He had been able to tell that this orc was some what intelligent but he had no idea that he was equivalent to that of a intelligent human.

After the orc finished his maniacal speech he picked up a grimy alcohol, bottle and lunged for him. Ethari made a small smile, his diamond sword still gleaming. This orc was in way over his head. Ethari was a pure blooded angel, and skillful adventurer and was well equipped from his travels. His diamond longsword could pierce through almost any normal metal, and left a terrible wound.

Ethari used his wings and feet in unison to push off the ground and propel himself off the ground and glide about 8 meters to his left. The orc would hopefully land on the dusty desert ground, a small splat of the recently killed uriks blood, where Ethari once stood and be vulnerable to a counter attack. If he could pull this move off right, he could finish the battle, piercing the orc in one of his vital organs.

But then there was the fact of the other 'thing'. It changed to solid black, except the blood tears which poured from the mask. Its appearance was frightening. It had twisted black claws, able to rend the flesh off a normal skinned creature, like the orc and himself. The fight had already begun to attract commotion. Several uriks and orcs surrounded the area, chanting. This was a place of horrible brutality, where senseless killings were a pleasure to its citizens. If Ethari could win this fight, he might make a spectacle of this, and return peace, somewhat.