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Thread: The Barad-Dûrish Inn

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------------------------------------> The Barad-D’rish Inn <-----------------------------------

Hello and Welcome to the Barad-D’rish Inn, the leading Inn for finding Warriors, Soldiers and Thugs for your Service. I am Morgurg, Owner and finest warrior of this inn. We have a fine selection of the best drinks possible, a fine Arena and the strongest selection of warriors this side of Gondor.

So Please, Come in, Have a Duel, Tell a joke. Do what ever you wish. There is just one rule; All first time visitors MUST prove themselves as warriors by surviving 20 seconds with my pet Warg, Chinabon.

Occupational opportunities are available, and Warriors for the monthly fighting contests are wanted.

Hello and Welcome to the Barad-D’rish Inn, the leading Inn for finding Warriors, Soldiers and Thugs



Contact the Referee when you have been challenged and been accepted into a duel.

To Win:
2A. Near Fatal Injury
2B. Un-Armed for 20 Seconds
2C. A Player Surrenders

Weapons Allowed:
Up to 2 Swords/Scimitars
Up to 2 Knives
No Ranged Weapons



Owner - Morgurg
Bartender - Arthion
Referee - [Wanted]
Cook - [Wanted, Temporarily Arthion]
The First Customer, Arthion of Ch’sor walked in, and the Goblin behind the bar pointed to a door. Arthion walked through, revealing a decently big arena. As Arthion walked to the center, he was attacked by a Warg.
"Could have warned me!" Arthion roared, wrestling the Warg into the center of the battle-zone of the Arena. 50 Goblins watched from the seats surrounding it, as Arthion whipped out his sword, pointing it at Chinabon.
Yay! Always loved a parody. Orc Grinning Smilie

Gornag, an Uruk-hai, stumped into the dirty, smelly, maggot-infested, unhygenic tavern and grinned. He was wearing full Uruk armour, had a sword over his shoulder and stank.
"I want DRINK!!" he roared at the barkeeper. "NOW!!"
The goblin pointed a grubby finger at a sign, which already had several knives sticking out of it and bloodstains all over it.
"I can't read, you little idiot!" shouted Gornag, punching the goblin in the face. "What do I have to do?!"
Chinabon leapt away, he was trained to leave the Arena after 20 seconds.
"Warrior, you may have some of Morgurg's Finest’, I heard the door open." Morgurg grunted, re-entering the Inn.
"You Want Drink! Prove your Strength and last 20 Seconds against Chinabon!" Morgurg shouted through the door, walking through and pouring some of Morgurg's Finest’ into 2 mouldy glasses, taking them to the Arena, he passed one to Arthion, and waited for Gornag to fight. Kug the Bartender groaned, before throwing his hat onto the floor, retiring.

Who wants to be Bartender?
Arthion grinned, and began to drink. He gulped, and dropped the glass, he had accidentally swallowed some mould, and ran to the toilets, only to find they were filthy. So he puked out the window, only to find that it had hit some of Chinabons Tribe, provoking him.
"Oh gzgnug*," muttured Gornag, when he saw the Warg roar at the sight of him.
He roared even louder, shattering some glasses, and charged towards the Warg. It leaped over him, and he swerved, getting his sword ready. The Warg circled round him for a while, then...
"Time's up!" someone yelled, and it was over. Gornag ran to the side to avoid having one of his legs bitten off, and snatched the foul mug of ale from the goblin, draining it in one go. There was some unidentifiable sludge at the bottom.

*Gzgnug: An extreme Orcish swearword, its translation unprintable.

OOC: Captainduck, retiring so soon? Think of all the fights, drinking, and cursing you'll miss!
Arthion groaned, returning from the top floor.
"I Will take the role of Bartender." He shouted, firing an arrow into the old bartenders head.
"I challenge that foul-mouthed guy other there, who just beat the Warg Trial." Arthion shouted, pointing his sword at Gornag.
"Me against him in that tournament."

I Think Morgurg and the Bartender are Different People. The Bartender retired so one of us could take the job...?
Gornag walked to the edge of the arena.
"I wan' to join up in the competition!" he said to the goblin. "Write me on tha' list."
Arthion grinned, and ran to sign up.
"Goblin, Your name is un-readible." Arthion muttered, looking at Gornag.
"I am Arthion, looks like we are against each other."
"Right," said Gornag. "But ya won't stand a chance 'gainst me, puny man!"
Morgurg pulled out a poster from his bag, and rolled it above the door, and stapled a A4 sheet next to the Door.
March-April 2010 Tournament

The First Barad-Durish fighting tournament. If 6 Warriors Enter, The 2 Fighters with the Most wins get automatically Promoted to The Semi-Finals. Atleast 4 People Needed.

The Fights will be Secretly Randomised by a non-participant. The Results of the Randomisation will be sent to the 2 Participants, and they will fight. Only the Participants will know the outcomes.


"So we just got to wait for three more fi'ters, an' then we start?" grunted Gorbag to Arthion. "Hope they don' take too long. I'm thirsty fir blood!"
He battered his breastplate with a fist and roared, something he had been doing quite a lot of in the past few minutes.
I was trying to make it so that in the top post it had the < and > Brackets, they didn't show up, so i realised that HTML shows up in posts.
Sorted Big Smile Smilie
Eruheran stood around, waiting for Gornag.
I can't be bothered with this. Cya.

Arthion is still waiting for Gornag.
Sorry folks, we don't allow additional coding to be used on this forum. Even if it is just for harmless fun.
Teacher Smilie
Gornag walked over to Artion, who had been waiting for some time by the edge of the arena.
"'Ow long is this gonna take, then?" he asked. "We bin waiting long enough."

OOC: To be honest, I think the BDI should be a place to be as crazy, random and violent as you want, not sitting around waiting forever for people to join competitions. If anyone agrees, a random something migh just attack the inn...
We need a system to decide who wins, or they will last forever...

Arthion grinned, and elbowed Gornag into the arena, whipping out his Sword and prepared for his victory. A Bell sounded. Round 1 of the Tournament had begun.
OOC: Well, the system is that we are asked heads or tails by someone neutral, then they flip a coin. Whoever gets it right will win the fight. Then we just write it out afterwards.
The problem is finding someone neutral...
CD has actually vanished!? If he doesn't return soon, I will take over his inn. And we will use the pre-decided heads/tails for fights, if we get them.

There was a sudden roar from the beast entrance. Arthion spun, pulling out his scimitar. The metal bars separating the arena from the pack of Wargs snapped, and their leader with red stripes down his back leapt into the arena, with 2 more with less stripes behind him.
"Our duel is off. A Opponent with a Chance of beating me is much better, Orc." Arthion shouted, leaping over the side into the arena.
I'm taking over.

Arthion walked back behind the bar, and began to set up a wide-screen behind the bar, for the World Cup, one thing that The Khazad-Dumish inn didn't have. Apart from a pack of Wargs and a arena in the back.

Also, because there is a lot of new people recently, More people will join this one. In your face, Grondmaster! Elf Sticking Tounge Out Smilie
Gornag weighed up his chances against the growling, slavering wolves in front of him, then decided it wasn't worth it and ran out of the arena, jumping over the baulstrade at the side. He spat, then walked back into the bar.
'Oi! Arthion!' he shouted, seeing the screen. 'What's this rubbish you've put on? I don't care what happens with Cameroon and Denmark!'
He grabbed a bottle of beer off the counter, broke the cap off with his teeth and took a deep gulp.
'Tastes like it was boiled with maggots,' he said. 'S' nice.'
Gornag burped, and settled back in his chair.
"Cameroon? Denmark? I know you might be from down south, but this is the Gondor V Mordor match." Arthion muttered.
"Oh right, the Wargs!" Arthion suddenly remembered, running back into the Arena. The 3 Wargs had just killed a pair of Hobbits, and were fighting an Uruk. Arthion grinned, and pulled out his Scimitars and threw them both into 2 of the Wargs, before rolling underneath the Warg third Warg and kicking it in the Groin. The Warg collapsed, squashing Arthion.
"Anyone gonna help?" Arthion shouted.
'Nope,' grunted Gornag, taking another swig of beer and peering closer to the screen. The players in red did seem to have the Eye on the back of their tunics, and looked uglier than a few broken noses should have done.
'COME ON MORDOR!!!' he yelled, spilling beer everywhere.
"Its 7-1, so don't bother!" Arthion shouted, missing out the fact that the Mordorian goalie's dead body was tied up in-front of the Gondorian net. He pulled out his knife and killed the Warg, before running back into the bar.
'Seven to one?' he grunted. 'Gzgnug, they're a bad team. Look, one of the midfielders has just stabbed the striker through the stomach.'
He tore off a bit of his dirty nail with his teeth and spat it out.
'I'm supportin' Isengard anyway,' he said. 'They thrashed Dunland in the qualifiers.'
"Isengard are second in Group-E, so they are going to have to play against the Gondorians. Did you watch Helms Deep get battered by Isengard? They had 9 men sent off, so the fans swarmed the pitch." Arthion asked, watching Mordor score another goal.
'Yes!' he shouted. 'Seven-two! That only leaves...' He tried to count it out on his fingers. 'Ummm... three more goals for Mordor t'equalise! Come on!'
He drank some more beer.
'See the Mirkwood versus Rh’n match?' he asked. 'The Elves are much better this year. Two-nil score.'
"I missed that one." Arthion muttered, as a Uruk in the Mordor kit walked in.
"YER A DISGRACE!" Arthion shouted, throwing a pint of beer at the Uruk, knocking him unconscious.
'That's one of my kinsmen!' growled Gornag, standing up. He grabbed the handle of sword and brandished it at Arthion. 'Trying to mess with me, weakling?'
"One of your kinsmen?! He was a Mordor supporter, and you are an Isengard supporter. No-one normal could say that you are kin!" Arthion shouted, leaping over the bar and pulling out his dual scimitars. He swung the first, and as soon as it got blocked, he swung again with the second, but lower.
Gornag roared, blocking the sword and punching Arthion in the chest with his gloved hand.
'You dare to attack me?' he shouted. 'Surrender while you can, worm.'
"I was steward of Ch’sor!" Arthion shouted.
"Even though this is a pub that is in the middle of Mordor." Arthion muttered, punching the Uruk. Gondor smashed another goal into the empty net, making the score 8-2, before the Ref blew the final whistle.
"You just smashed us!" Arthion shouted sarcastically.
OOC: I thought it was Gondor in the lead (which is why I made it 7-2), and I think this should be set after The Overthrow of the Steward, when Arthion is disgraced and living as a pub bartender.
changed it... Smile Smilie
Gornag reeled back from the punch, spilling his beer onto the floor.
'Now you've made me really angry!' he roared, whacking Arthion's chest with the flat of his sword and striking him on his head with the bottom of the handle. He pushed the Ch’sorian back across the bar, and swung at his neck.
Arthion laughed, and round-house kicked Gornag in the groin. He put one of his scimitars in its scabbard, and pointed the other end at Gornag, who was on the floor.
"The drinks are going up by 5 golden pieces." Arthion muttered, helping Gornag up.
"Get into the Arena, and fight like a man!" Arthion shouted, pointing to the other room.
OOC: You changed your name back to EruherantheCheesey! Or is that a glitch in the system?
'Nah,' said the Uruk. 'I've 'ad my share of fi'tin for today. I'm goin' to watch the TV.'
He grabbed another bottle of ale off the counter and sat back down in the moth-eaten chair he had been in before, putting his feet up.
It was me.

"Yer a coward!" Arthion grumbled, and put the Shire V Mirkwood match on.
"Mirkwood and Ered Mithrin have both been eliminated!" Arthion announced.
"And people are requesting to cancel the Far-Haradian World Cup, which is stupid." Arthion added.
Gornag grunted, and drank some more beer. He crossed his left leg over his right, and after a few minutes of picking at a blackened, filthy toenail he stood up and stretched.
'Weather's still looking somethin' awful out there,' he said, peering through one of the small, grimy windows at the rain-drenched world outside. 'Not gonna clear up for least 'nother few hours.'
"Have 12 Pints of our best beer, for free." Arthion muttered, pouring beer into their largest glass.
Gornag went over to take his beer. He muttered a thanks to Arthion, before taking a sip and setting it back down on the bar.
'Whole last week's been like this,' he said, casting another foul glance out of the window. 'But the lands near the Hoarwell* aren't known for good weather.'

OOC: * Where I think the Inn should be.
"I was blummin' born here!" Arthion shouted, jumping over the bar and punching Gornag.
"Into the arena now! Fight to the death!" Arthion muttered, pulling on his chain mail.
You're from Ch’sor!' shouted the Uruk. 'That's nowhere near here!'
He grabbed his shield, slung it onto his arm and bashed Arthion across the face with it.
'D'you even know where the Hoarwell is, blockhead?' he growled.
Odette,a rohirrim,dark haired and caped with a purple cloak walks silently into the inn.Making a face at the mouldy interiors she shouts at the dozing goblin behind the counter "take me to the warg,got to follow the rules"....and mutters to herself "better a fight than a night out in the hair goes all greasy"
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