Belenos and Leonardo Rainfall
The Balrog takes in the scents of the nearby area. Healthy tree bark, tiny forest animals, the cool morning wind accompanied by dampness of dew. More importantly, though, was the smell of salted pork, cooking over an open fire and the pleasant smell of armorers preparing leather and steel in forge. With a satisfied grumble in his stomach, he looked to the Dragon. It wasn't the salted pork they were after this day. "Do your senses catch the scent, Dragon?" The Balrog asked, his voice giving hint at his own hunger. It had been too long since proper meat was introduced to the Balrog's stomach.
Súraumo's stomach rumbles hollowly as he flies through the morning sky. The beauty of the new day is lost on him completely for already his sharp hunter's nose had caught the scent of cooking fires. Cooking fires meant living beings. He didn't care at this point if it were human, elves or dwarves. Súraumo needed to eat. A creature of his size MUST eat regularly or perish. Now as he flies, strings of drool stream from his mouth, trailing down his crooked tooth and falling unseen below him. "Aye," he rumbles in reply to the Balrog. "I am not that old yet that I cannot smell a cooking fire, or an unwashed dwarf from this distance." His neck snakes around impatiently as he seeks the entrance with his one good eye. "Where be they?" he snarls impatiently.
The Balrog fills his lungs with air again, his heart almost racing in excitement as he begins to pinpoint where their meal resides. His eyes lock on a mountain not far off. "I would suspect there, Dragon." He replies, beginning to head in the direction. "Let us gain height. We maybe able to see where they vent their holes. From there we can locate a suitable entrance for the like of us" He suggests, growing impatient himself.
Súraumo's mighty chest heaves and coils as the muscles there work to pump his wings to gain height. His eye shines with a hungry gleam as he too seeks the entrance to the Dwarven settlement. The closer they fly the stronger the scent in his nostrils becomes, fueling his already ravenous hunger. It is then that a regular, less natural shape in the rocks below him catches his eye. "There!" he roars as he dipped a wing to circle closer. "There! That be no natural form." And sure enough, there, hidden in a small side valley of the mountain, is a carved stone archway, surrounding a heavy carved door.
The Balrog smiles, impressed by the old Dragon's perception. "Perhaps I underestimated you, Dragon." He says, following in line behind his massive ally. He brings himself alongside the Dragon and tries to slow him, but dares not put himself in the path. "Shouldn't we think this through?" he questions, not knowing what to expect having been away from this realm for countless years. "We don't know how reinforced that door is!" He says in concern, unwilling to let this prey escape into some kind of underground tunnel system or anything of the sort. "Would you really sacrifice a full course meal of delicious dwarven meat because of your impetuous actions? Think for a moment, Dragon...and more importantly, don't make such booming, vibrating noises!"
Súraumo snorts cinders into the wind and gives a half-hearted snap at the Balrog as he continues his downward plummet, his eye searching sharply for a suitable landing spot. "This be not the first time these old bones have hunted the fat little creatures. They be stubborn in their ways and thinking and smug about their defences. This old dragon knows exactly how to get into a dwarven stronghold. Just keep behind me, and you will be well fed.'
The Balrog follows closely behind the Dragon, looking forward to seeing him either succeed or fail; both would be entertaining to him. he hoped that the Dragon's hunger didn't defeat the art of hunting within every strong beast. Preparing his body for the attack, he huffs out flakey embers as the fire claoking his body intensified. The dark smoke around his body grows thicker as he dives forward behind the Dragon, ready to improvise on whatever plan he had.
Súraumo spies what he is looking for, an open area which will enable him to land, not far from the entrance he'd seen from the air. Without hesitation he angles for the clearing. Spreading his wings at the last moment to steady his landing he gives a small hop to favour his maimed paw and then pauses a moment as he waits for the resulting dustcloud to settle He had hunted these beings many times before. He knew it is too early in the day for them to have ventured outside to tend to their business there, so he does not waste time looking for prey here. Driven by his body's now urgent need to feed he does not wait to see if the Balrog follows but sets off immediately to cover the short distance to the entrance of the settlement.
The Balrog gracefully and quickly lands into a fast paced walk just after the Dragon lands, becoming irritated at the seemingly irrational action the hunger seems to of caused within the Dragon. As his temper sparks within him, small, lively, strings of scolding fire lash off of his body, the grass beneath him becoming smoldering ash with every step. Too hungry and too worried about what they may encounter, the Balrog completely ignores the small flags of flame he leaves upon the enviroment as he passes shrubs, grass, and a few low hanging trees. Keeping silent, he tries to focus more on making his outer appearance calm despite his frantic worry about what they may encounter and how they are to breach the settlement. Beside the Dragon the Balrog walked, two deadly foes to Middle Earth. Suddenly the Balrog becomes confident; regardless of what kind of advances the Dwarves may have made, they wouldn't expect a dragon or a Balrog. They most certainly wouldn't expect them both working together.
Súraumo's scales rustle against the shrubbery as he snakes his body along the narrow pathway to the door. Leaves snag against their sharp edges and either fall in serrated pieces to the ground, or lodge unnoticed between his scales. Reaching the doors at last, Súraumo gives his body a shake to free himself of the debris, his wings rattling against his sides with a leathery slap. Snaking out his neck he snuffles noisily along the arched edges of the doors and then gives a pleased snort of satisfaction. Metal! He had caught the cold hard smell of metal nestled in the earth tang of the stonework. His old eye gleams merrily. The strongest door is only as strong as the hinge that holds it, and no hinge could withstand the heat of dragon breath. Planting his feet firmly, he breathes in deeply, fully inflating his lungs, opening his maw and letting forth a steady stream of fire.
The Balrog watches the Dragon work at the door, impressed by his perception once again. He had indeed underestimated this Dragon. "You are smarter than I at first gave you credit for. My pride doesn't dominate me; I apologize." He growls, clearly forcing the words from his throat, most likely out of gratitude that, because of this Dragon, he would be able to feast upon the bones and flesh of Dwarves. "A step up from hobbits and a step down from man. I think we will find our bellies satisfied this night." He says aloud, his stomach preparing for the intake of food. The fire crawls it's way down the Balrog's arm and into his hand as a whip began to form. He thwacks it against the ground twice, surprisingly fast, leaving a trail of burned earth here and a line of fire there. "I will cook the meat tonight, Dragon."
Súraumo grunts in acknowledgement of the Balrog's words, his attention set on the task at hand. Finally he stops the fire and noses forward again, ignoring the cloud of smoke that lingered from his work. His ears pick up the sizzle and pop of molten metal and he grunts again in satisfaction. He turns his head to the Balrog, his eye dancing with a merry light of anticipation, "Are you ready to eat?" he asks as he places a forepaw upon the stone door and exerts his weight against it. With no hinges to hold it the door slides slowly backwards, the heavy stonework squealing and grating against the stone floor within. After sliding a short distance, the inner bottom edge digs into an unseen join in the inner flagstones and topples backwards in a cloud of mortar dust. Beyond this he sees the startled faces of a cluster of dwarven warriors. Without hestitation Súraumo bounds over the door, his jaws snapping.
The Balrog dashes forward, a trail of flame and smoke lingering behind him as he sweeps his hand forward, the whip wrapping around two dwarves and tightening them together. Flinging his wrist, he effortlessly slams them into the wall, either killing them or knocking them out. It doesn't matter much to him. He jumps to the left, pouncing on a small dwarven warrior as his blood lusting gaze veers up toward another group. Two dwarves charge him, confident and too proud to know when to back down. The Balrog slams his hand forward , catching them both with his charcoal claws, piercing them before discarding them to the side. As his enjoyment rocketed, the flames around him began to grow wild, almost erratic. He let out a loud warcry, the deep, vibrating noise signaling the coming end of the dwarven people at this settlement. He thrives on the fear of his prey; the look in their eyes as they realize their efforts are ultimately futile. He sweeps the whip to the right, catching a dwarf's ankle and tossing him toward the dragon. The Balrog nods toward the Dragon, searching for a reaction to their successful hunt.
Súraumo takes his stance in the middle of the large entrance hall. Always these vain small beings built such large rooms that even a dragon of his size could move easily within them. Not only that, but it allowed him to hunt them easily too. His neck snakes out as he seizes a hapless dwarf, and with a flick of his head, he tosses it to the back of his throat and down his gullet before whirling around to snap another hastily retreating figure. This time he is not so fortunate for one of his broken and rotting teeth clamps down upon the heavy shield the dwarf carried. With an angry snarl he shakes his head at the pain and vents his wrath upon the dwarf tossed to him by the Balrog, shaking it like a dog with a rat before hungrily gobbling it down. By now the dwarves are swiftly scattering down the many hallways that led from this entrance hall. Súraumo's eye gleamed as he nodded to the Balrog. Many hallways meant many dwarves. They would feast well this night.
> Next
Súraumo's stomach rumbles hollowly as he flies through the morning sky. The beauty of the new day is lost on him completely for already his sharp hunter's nose had caught the scent of cooking fires. Cooking fires meant living beings. He didn't care at this point if it were human, elves or dwarves. Súraumo needed to eat. A creature of his size MUST eat regularly or perish. Now as he flies, strings of drool stream from his mouth, trailing down his crooked tooth and falling unseen below him. "Aye," he rumbles in reply to the Balrog. "I am not that old yet that I cannot smell a cooking fire, or an unwashed dwarf from this distance." His neck snakes around impatiently as he seeks the entrance with his one good eye. "Where be they?" he snarls impatiently.
The Balrog fills his lungs with air again, his heart almost racing in excitement as he begins to pinpoint where their meal resides. His eyes lock on a mountain not far off. "I would suspect there, Dragon." He replies, beginning to head in the direction. "Let us gain height. We maybe able to see where they vent their holes. From there we can locate a suitable entrance for the like of us" He suggests, growing impatient himself.
Súraumo's mighty chest heaves and coils as the muscles there work to pump his wings to gain height. His eye shines with a hungry gleam as he too seeks the entrance to the Dwarven settlement. The closer they fly the stronger the scent in his nostrils becomes, fueling his already ravenous hunger. It is then that a regular, less natural shape in the rocks below him catches his eye. "There!" he roars as he dipped a wing to circle closer. "There! That be no natural form." And sure enough, there, hidden in a small side valley of the mountain, is a carved stone archway, surrounding a heavy carved door.
The Balrog smiles, impressed by the old Dragon's perception. "Perhaps I underestimated you, Dragon." He says, following in line behind his massive ally. He brings himself alongside the Dragon and tries to slow him, but dares not put himself in the path. "Shouldn't we think this through?" he questions, not knowing what to expect having been away from this realm for countless years. "We don't know how reinforced that door is!" He says in concern, unwilling to let this prey escape into some kind of underground tunnel system or anything of the sort. "Would you really sacrifice a full course meal of delicious dwarven meat because of your impetuous actions? Think for a moment, Dragon...and more importantly, don't make such booming, vibrating noises!"
Súraumo snorts cinders into the wind and gives a half-hearted snap at the Balrog as he continues his downward plummet, his eye searching sharply for a suitable landing spot. "This be not the first time these old bones have hunted the fat little creatures. They be stubborn in their ways and thinking and smug about their defences. This old dragon knows exactly how to get into a dwarven stronghold. Just keep behind me, and you will be well fed.'
The Balrog follows closely behind the Dragon, looking forward to seeing him either succeed or fail; both would be entertaining to him. he hoped that the Dragon's hunger didn't defeat the art of hunting within every strong beast. Preparing his body for the attack, he huffs out flakey embers as the fire claoking his body intensified. The dark smoke around his body grows thicker as he dives forward behind the Dragon, ready to improvise on whatever plan he had.
Súraumo spies what he is looking for, an open area which will enable him to land, not far from the entrance he'd seen from the air. Without hesitation he angles for the clearing. Spreading his wings at the last moment to steady his landing he gives a small hop to favour his maimed paw and then pauses a moment as he waits for the resulting dustcloud to settle He had hunted these beings many times before. He knew it is too early in the day for them to have ventured outside to tend to their business there, so he does not waste time looking for prey here. Driven by his body's now urgent need to feed he does not wait to see if the Balrog follows but sets off immediately to cover the short distance to the entrance of the settlement.
The Balrog gracefully and quickly lands into a fast paced walk just after the Dragon lands, becoming irritated at the seemingly irrational action the hunger seems to of caused within the Dragon. As his temper sparks within him, small, lively, strings of scolding fire lash off of his body, the grass beneath him becoming smoldering ash with every step. Too hungry and too worried about what they may encounter, the Balrog completely ignores the small flags of flame he leaves upon the enviroment as he passes shrubs, grass, and a few low hanging trees. Keeping silent, he tries to focus more on making his outer appearance calm despite his frantic worry about what they may encounter and how they are to breach the settlement. Beside the Dragon the Balrog walked, two deadly foes to Middle Earth. Suddenly the Balrog becomes confident; regardless of what kind of advances the Dwarves may have made, they wouldn't expect a dragon or a Balrog. They most certainly wouldn't expect them both working together.
Súraumo's scales rustle against the shrubbery as he snakes his body along the narrow pathway to the door. Leaves snag against their sharp edges and either fall in serrated pieces to the ground, or lodge unnoticed between his scales. Reaching the doors at last, Súraumo gives his body a shake to free himself of the debris, his wings rattling against his sides with a leathery slap. Snaking out his neck he snuffles noisily along the arched edges of the doors and then gives a pleased snort of satisfaction. Metal! He had caught the cold hard smell of metal nestled in the earth tang of the stonework. His old eye gleams merrily. The strongest door is only as strong as the hinge that holds it, and no hinge could withstand the heat of dragon breath. Planting his feet firmly, he breathes in deeply, fully inflating his lungs, opening his maw and letting forth a steady stream of fire.
The Balrog watches the Dragon work at the door, impressed by his perception once again. He had indeed underestimated this Dragon. "You are smarter than I at first gave you credit for. My pride doesn't dominate me; I apologize." He growls, clearly forcing the words from his throat, most likely out of gratitude that, because of this Dragon, he would be able to feast upon the bones and flesh of Dwarves. "A step up from hobbits and a step down from man. I think we will find our bellies satisfied this night." He says aloud, his stomach preparing for the intake of food. The fire crawls it's way down the Balrog's arm and into his hand as a whip began to form. He thwacks it against the ground twice, surprisingly fast, leaving a trail of burned earth here and a line of fire there. "I will cook the meat tonight, Dragon."
Súraumo grunts in acknowledgement of the Balrog's words, his attention set on the task at hand. Finally he stops the fire and noses forward again, ignoring the cloud of smoke that lingered from his work. His ears pick up the sizzle and pop of molten metal and he grunts again in satisfaction. He turns his head to the Balrog, his eye dancing with a merry light of anticipation, "Are you ready to eat?" he asks as he places a forepaw upon the stone door and exerts his weight against it. With no hinges to hold it the door slides slowly backwards, the heavy stonework squealing and grating against the stone floor within. After sliding a short distance, the inner bottom edge digs into an unseen join in the inner flagstones and topples backwards in a cloud of mortar dust. Beyond this he sees the startled faces of a cluster of dwarven warriors. Without hestitation Súraumo bounds over the door, his jaws snapping.
The Balrog dashes forward, a trail of flame and smoke lingering behind him as he sweeps his hand forward, the whip wrapping around two dwarves and tightening them together. Flinging his wrist, he effortlessly slams them into the wall, either killing them or knocking them out. It doesn't matter much to him. He jumps to the left, pouncing on a small dwarven warrior as his blood lusting gaze veers up toward another group. Two dwarves charge him, confident and too proud to know when to back down. The Balrog slams his hand forward , catching them both with his charcoal claws, piercing them before discarding them to the side. As his enjoyment rocketed, the flames around him began to grow wild, almost erratic. He let out a loud warcry, the deep, vibrating noise signaling the coming end of the dwarven people at this settlement. He thrives on the fear of his prey; the look in their eyes as they realize their efforts are ultimately futile. He sweeps the whip to the right, catching a dwarf's ankle and tossing him toward the dragon. The Balrog nods toward the Dragon, searching for a reaction to their successful hunt.
Súraumo takes his stance in the middle of the large entrance hall. Always these vain small beings built such large rooms that even a dragon of his size could move easily within them. Not only that, but it allowed him to hunt them easily too. His neck snakes out as he seizes a hapless dwarf, and with a flick of his head, he tosses it to the back of his throat and down his gullet before whirling around to snap another hastily retreating figure. This time he is not so fortunate for one of his broken and rotting teeth clamps down upon the heavy shield the dwarf carried. With an angry snarl he shakes his head at the pain and vents his wrath upon the dwarf tossed to him by the Balrog, shaking it like a dog with a rat before hungrily gobbling it down. By now the dwarves are swiftly scattering down the many hallways that led from this entrance hall. Súraumo's eye gleamed as he nodded to the Balrog. Many hallways meant many dwarves. They would feast well this night.
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