Angband's stone walls stood a half-dozen leagues from the rock outcropping that served as a three-foot-high wall stretching east to west for almost forty miles. On that wall stood a man in red-rimmed black robes of an arcane nature, clearly marking him as either a Mage or - in the truthful case of this particularly bloodthirsty spell caster - a Mage's Apprentice. Yet he was no ordinary Mage's Apprentice. He was a man who thrived on the shedding of the blood of others, reveled in the thrill of a bloody massacre, greatly enjoyed the slaughter of innocents - the screaming, the looks of terror, the vain attempt to flee pursuit. The chase was almost as fun as the kill - so much so, in fact, that Jaxon Creed often let his victims get a good head start before he closed in on them and tortured them like an evil child would torture an animal. He enjoyed seeing the light drain slowly out of the horror-stricken faces of those that he killed, their blood slowly spreading across the sand and soaking into it, dying the sun-baked ground a deep red that would be washed away only by the shifting of the sands.

As he stood upon the wall now, a body clothed in blue and black slumped to the ground. The silver workings on the fat merchant's boots was almost indiscernible as the man's blood covered everything - his clothes, his boots, his hands, his face, his hair...everything. A soft squelching was drowned out by the burning desert winds that howled through the empty yellow-and-brown canyons of Anfauglir as the dagger slid easily from the dying merchant's soon-to-be-rotting corpse of tanned fat and flesh melded and rolled into what was now nothing more than another victim of Jaxon Creed. A sickening, evil grin split Jaxon's face in two as he watched the last of his victims fall to the ground. Bodies lay crumpled all around him, small winds picking up sand now and again and covering the blood-drenched bodies everywhere. Jaxon's own face was splattered in several places with spots of red blood only half-congealed despite the heat of the noonday sun raining down upon Jaxon and his victims. He wiped his mouth and the space around his eyes free of most of the blood and licked his lips. Then he looked at the dagger, the mad gleam in his eyes omnipresent, and licked the blood clean from it.

As he resheated his dagger, the smell already perfuming him as he smiled about the entire situation, he realized he was being watched. He looked around, but saw nothing. Then he saw it: an orc, huge and powerful and lumbering toward him. Orcs...they were as bloodthirsty as he, perhaps even moreso. Jaxon grinned. Perhaps this day was about to get even better...

Morgo Domanu walked out of the Iron Prison, his hometown. He stepped out of the massive gates, and observed his surroundings. The sights were familar, for the orc was raised here. A drunk was walking out of the gates as well, stumbling to the right, kicking up sand, bottle in hand.

Morgo walked forward and shoved the inebriated man. "Watch were your going," the man slurred. The enraged inebriate lunged forth with a bottle, which Morgo dodged with ease, merely sidestepping the clumsy blow. The drunkard fell on his face, and tried to push himself up. Morgo lunged down with his elbow, hitting the fellow on his spine. The large and sinewy orc's weight broke the man's spine, which was heard snapping.

The drunkard groaned in pain, and fell unconsciousness. One of the urik hai guards looked at him with a growl, and Morgo growled back. The urik stopped and turned away, as if nothing was happining. Morgo lightly slapped the man back to consciousness.

After he awoke with a grunt, Morgo drew Denger's Talon, and launched a lightning bolt in the man's face. He roared in pain, as Morgo roared in laughter. Blood splattered up into the orc's face, who didn't bother to wipe it off. The mans face was now a pit of gore and blood.

Morgo walked down the wall, pleased with himself, and the killing. An image was visible through the clouds of dust. Bodies were strewn on the floor, and the figure of a mage in robes was the only living thing. Blood was still on Morgo's face, clothes and hands. Small amounts of blood were on the mages face. Morgo was unaware if this presence was hostile or friendly. Only one way to find out.

"Hello, I'm Morgo Domanu, and you are?" he asked, mace seathed, ignoring the bodies. "Are you responsible for these deaths? Do you share the passion of death?" He asked, gesturing to the blood on his hands and face.

Jaxon Creed had been so absorbed in his fun that he had not noticed the flash of lightning near the ground almost ten leagues away. He hadn't heard the heavy footsteps of the orc walking toward him. He didn't even notice the orc's presence at first, or that he had spoken. When it finally penetrated his mind, he turned slowly. Another victim? No, a comrade. A fellow shedder of blood. Ah, yes. And Jaxon was not the only one having fun this evening, either.

He grinned broadly, a creepy grin that would have been the kind seen in a dark alley where no fine-minded man or woman would have ever gone. A gleam in his eyes spoke of the evil in his mind, and that half-crazed look only emphasized the blood dripping from the blade in Jaxon's hand, lowered but still deadly as he looked at the orc. But the orc was not another kill. The orc was like him, only moreso because it was natural. For Jaxon, it would have been considered madness. He would have been hung. But he was a Mage's Apprentice, and an intelligent one. He was not so careless as to get caught red-handed - not and let those who caught him live. But somehow, he doubted the orc would cause much trouble. After all, if this orc enjoyed killing, torturing, maiming, mutilating, and the like as much as he did - which he no doubt did - then the orc would probably have shared in the fun rather than spoiled it. And an orc - now that could be a powerful, dangerous ally. A Mage's Apprentice - soon to be a Mage, no less - and an orc? Together, they could wipe out a large army. But for now, introductions were in order.

"Jaxon Creed," he said with a small bow, "Mage extroardinaire and shedder of blood by trade and for pleasure. Welcome to my not-so-humble hunting ground - at least for tonight, anyway."

No need to tell the orc he wasn't really a Mage - not yet, anyway. If he found out, no matter. It wasn't like he was going to kill him or anything - or could, for that matter.

He laughed at his own joke. It was a mad laugh, like a low cackle that was not really a cackle. It spoke of the madness therein, but perhaps it really was not madness. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't common amongst humans. Orcs, perhaps. But not humans. But Jaxon hated commoners anyway. Them and their mundane ways. He preferred the arcane.

"Jaxon Creed," he said with a small bow, "Mage extraordinaire and shedder of blood by trade and for pleasure. Welcome to my not-so-humble hunting ground - at least for tonight, anyway."

Morgo viewed the man, and his red robes. 'Ahhh, a mage! This should be fun' he thought to himself. He outstretched his hand after the mage finished his bowing. "Why, hello Jaxon," he said politely.

"I am Morgo, Morgo Domanu. How would you like it if we, well joined forces. You see, us killers are misunderstood. In truth, if you strip down everything's layers of 'righteousness' you get us. Crudely put as crazy. But we, my friend, are the Bringers of Chaos! We add, 'flavor' to the world," Morgo finished.

"But remember one thing, my friend. DO NOT STOP DOING KILLING! We cannot stop, no matter what," he said, grinning. "So, will you join me?" he asked finally. He grinned, looking at all the glorious blood.

((Sorry about the short post! ^_^; ))

(( :lol: Don't worry about it. :p ))

There was blood on Jaxon's own hands, but somehow he didn't really think that this Morgo Domanu would mind at all. He grinned. A fellow bloodletter, eh? Well, this was certainly going to be interesting. He took the orc's hand and shook it firmly.

"Why not? I wouldn't mind another to have some fun with. I met another just a few weeks ago, as a matter of fact. A Demon Imp. Short, but so fast! And as bloodthirsty as I!"

He laughed. It was an almost maniacal laugh, one hinting at madness that may or may not have quite reached Jaxon Creed's mind.

"So, my new friend Morgo Domanu, where should we go first? These fools were no challenge at all, of course, and I positively hate it when things are too easy."

He sneered. He did indeed hate that. If things were too easy, if there was no challenge, what was the point? He needed a challenge, something to give him a reason to say, "Yes, I did this. I've accomplished something here."

There are a lot of people inside Angband, and there are many other cities, towns, and villages bordering the desert. Where to first, my friend?"

Yes, the grin on his face was definitely one of madness. It was emphasized by the way he suddenly licked his dagger clean and resheathed it. Then he wiped his hands on the garb of one of his victims.

"I'm ready when you are," he said with a small, very creepy smile.

Jaxon straightened his robes and shrugged his shoulders. Why wait? He'd already eaten, and the orc probably ate humans by the handfuls, so to speak. He could eat as they went if that was the case, of course.

"Why not? I wouldn't mind another to have some fun with. I met another just a few weeks ago, as a matter of fact. A Demon Imp. Short, but so fast! And as bloodthirsty as I! So, my new friend Morgo Domanu, where should we go first? These fools were no challenge at all, of course, and I positively hate it when things are too easy. There are a lot of people inside Angband, and there are many other cities, towns, and villages bordering the desert. Where to first, my friend? I'm ready when you are," he told Morgo.

Morgo was happy to see this man's joy was similar to his. He laughed at the man, and looked towards him, "My dear Mr.Creed, there is no limit to our travels! Why, we could go to Lomedor and kill there! We are not restricted to something as trivial as location! Wherever people reside, I will be there," he laughed again, and looked at him.

"Let us go to Estolad, and slay there," he told him,"we will be the plague of Arda!!! We will spread chaos, confusion, and destruction! In the name of the Chaos, we shall reign," he laughed manically, and faced him.

"Will you come with me?" he asked, and waited for a response. Morgo enjoyed killing in sport. With more friends to enjoy it with, it became more pleasurable. "Will you come with me?" he asked again,"will you come with me to plague Arda, to be the scourge of Chaos? Will you unify with me," he finished, and outstretched his hand.

Ah, the Scourge of Chaos, eh? Hm. Yes, that sounded very good. Very good indeed. The Scourge of Chaos...Jaxon would have to remember that name. It was a good one, and it would no doubt give him much humor in the days - perhaps the years - to come. For now, he would join Morgo Domanu. Why not? He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. So yes, Jaxon would join him.

Jaxon grinned broadly as he firmly shook the brutal orc's dark-skinned and heavily muscled hand once more. He hardly noticed the sand now drifting past his face and clothes slowly. He only vaguely noticed the small, hot breeze now ruffling his clothing. Distantly, his mind echoed with the mention of a coming sandstorm, but he hardly cared. He was about to have some fun with yet another like him, a bloodletter who took great pleasure in the killing of others.

Hooves sounded nearby, and Jaxon removed his hand from Morgo's as he turned to see who it was. It was just a lone rider heading off in another direction, though, leaving Angband to head off into the east where only dull gray light now rested upon the ground. The blood-red sun was setting amidst a veil of brown sand, and that was when Jaxon noticed that things were starting to pick up. He turned. Perhaps ten miles, maybe a little less, rested between them and the swiftly building wall of sand.

"It is too dangerous here. We cannot afford to remain where we are for much longer. In a few minutes, this area will be covered with sand and we won't be able to see an inch before our faces."

Jaxon turned back to Morgo. His voice had increased in volume and pitch by the end of his small speech, for the wind was starting to howl loudly around them. It had picked up quite a bit in the few seconds it had taken Jaxon to note his observatiosn and assess the situation unfolding nearby and on the ground on which he and Morgo now stood.

"We can reach Angband quickly and easily if we leave now, but the villages and cities are presently too far. Should we carry our bloodshed into Angband, or do you wish to risk the sandstorm?"

He sincerely hoped for the former. He didn't want to have anything to do with a sandstorm, especially those as vicious as the ones nearest Angband, in the deepest part of the desert. That was why it was so difficult to reach Angband, after all, and why it was so well-protected - besides the walls and gates, of course, and besides the presence of so many criminals that most would shudder just at the thought of the place. Still, he could protect himself if need be. He carried few things with him and had nothing to tie him here, since the Skeletal Steed called Cruor was bound to him magically by his Master, so he could leave immediately. He awaited Morgo's answer.