I walked into the home of the Lord of Minas Morgul, his kingdom of Angmar long gone. I turn back, to look at the five black iron clad men behind me, looking this way and that. Carn Dum was large, though it has fallen to disarray, during the take over of the Krahjarn. The Warlord Gortluf respected strength, such as we displayed at Gundabad. The Warlords of the Mountains have come together, in Carn Dum, and at my behest. We turn the corner to the audience chamber, benches were set up, and the throne was Occupied by the Orc Warlord, who stood up, to honor me with the position, which I took. My kinsmen flanked the throne, and the Orc Warlords, chieftains, and champions flooded the large room, the Black Uruks of my retinue stand at attention at each end of the hall, black iron plate gleaming, swords and scimitars drawn. There was an oddly silent mood amongst them all, as they fidgeted in their seats, and some on their feet. The Warlord of the Blogmal rose, then, a large ugly scar from his brow, down to his jaw, exposing a jagged sharp tooth. But he did not say anything, he just seemed to want to stand, because the Krahjarn Warlord stood at the foot of the throne.
“Blogmal, Ongburz, Tarkrip. These tribes will be responsible for the invasion of Arnors remnant. Me, and my kinsmen will be given the most fitting fiefs, and you lot choose amongst yourselves. But before any claims are thrown, we must destroy the men of Arnor. Is this clear?” a grumble of agreement greeted me. I rose up slowly, though, taking in a deep breath, “For hundreds of years, the tides of war were swept against you. Defeated, disorganized. Routed, by the very men we will soon offer retribution. It will be you, that wins the battles from now on. It will be you that slaughters, and routes them. It will be you, that displays their ignorant heads upon pikes!” I roared, raising a mailed fist, and now the orcs shouted at me, “Arnakhor!” “Blogmal!” “Tarkrip!” “Ongburz!” “Krahjarn!” they roared, pounding the benches, their plated chests. And soon, like a thrumming beat of a drum, the orcs together roared the name of our lord, “SAURON, SAURON, SAURON!” that is what brought a smile to my lips. The yelling drew on, until I raised my hands to settle them, with the help on the Uruks slaming their blades against their shields. “Now go, whilst me, and my kinsmen discuss matters.” I stepped down, my men behind me like black wraiths, followed by Warlord Gortluf, and his Chieftains.
-Blogmal, Warlord Gashingher
“March fast. And have weapons ready. We go to Fornost, and not know what awaits us.” Said the Cheiftains, relaying the orders. Six thousand orcs. Six thousand Blogmal orcs. I marched at the head of my horde, the fires rising here in there as he looked over the green hills. They will be burnt and raze. Fornost, we were ordered to capture it. The Overlord, Arnakhor desires it, that was clear. I took in a deep breath, as the smell of man filled my lungs. Blood, was in the air, too. Though my order stands, no raid, no plunder, nothing. Until Fornost was ours, like it was in the olden days. That brought a grin, as we marched on, for hours, and hours, chanting old sounds of war, and raid, putting out the eyes of dunedain, and men, and elves, tearing of entrails..I looked from side to side. We orcs of the North have never seen these ‘Uruks’ before. We’ve had larger orcs, but never those built as such. Black Uruks, grim, violent bastards. There were very few, and took positions as ‘lieutenants’ within the tribes. Tarkrips were to tread south, to strike the first blow on these folk.. Fornost is deserted, free for the taking. A sort of relief came over us, as we passed through the Nobury gates..And now we fortify our position, and wait.
-Stoneheight, Captain of the Guard, Carl Greengate
It was always quiet at midnight. Looking down over the town, some men were at dice with my fellow guardsmen. The Mayor stood out, upon his balcony, biting his lower lip, glass of whiskey resting beside the bottle on the ledge. I watched him for a long moment, before a hunting horn blew long and hard to my right..I squinted, looking far down below. It was near black, but something was moving. Like a sea, toward the town. The Greenway Guard was raised, alarmed. There are about two hundred of us, and I started to make my way down the stair. The clash of sword, axe, and spear, howls, roars..I drew my longsword, no time to get my shield back from the top of the tower. I jogged down the stairs, near tripping at the final moment. I burst through the door..ORCS! “TO ARMS!” I roared, though it seemed useless, as the orcs were already past the gate, the guard doing what they can to form up. Too many for a mere raid, I thought, I brought my longsword down to cut deep into the shoulder of an orc, backhanding another with a mailed fist as he drew near. Twenty of the gaurds have fallen, though many times that number have fallen on the Orcs side. The Mayor joined the fray, the little fat man stabbing left and right, as the towns folk raided the armoury, to defend against the orc host. Blood, and burning flesh filled the air, the smoke drew tears to my eyes as I looked past several ranks of orc, to see these hulking figures amongst them. “Guards of the Greenway! Archers on the wall, fire at will!” I cried, as the archers, and huntsmen on the wall opposite the gate let loose into the press of orc flesh, their mere weight and strength pushing through our formation, the battle losing momentum as every started to fight their own battle. A spear took me in the side, crunching through the mail beneath, steel rings burying deep in my flesh as the iron blade sank deep into my guts. I tittered off into the side as the orc was about to wrench the spear free, but Thomas rushed in, slamming his shield into the orcs face. I reeled backward, leaning against the post as four gaurds surrounded me, fighting hard against the harsh press. One of those larger orcs tore off the head of the Mayor..With three blows with his scimitar into his fat neck. I blinked hard, looking to the opposite gate, “RETREAT!” I roared, several guards forming another line, to holdback the orc horde, allowing a token force of Gaurds to retreat with the rest of the armed citizens that yet lived..A chance is what they have, before I raised my eyes to look upon an orc with an upraised axe, “TARKRIP!!!!” it roared, and the axe lowered.
Stoneheight has fallen to the tribe of Tarkrip, the orcs have lost near a thousand in their daring assault, and the main opposing strength of the men of former Arnor is crushed. The survivors, half the guard, and a few scores of citizens have routed toward the farms, as the orcs have occupied the regions south, cutting them off from Trestlebridge.
Ongburz, Warlord Thrazug
Fires raged to the west, smoke rising high into the sunrise. The marching orcs raised fists, some bare, some mailed, roaring with the triumph that the Tarkrips have claimed. “If one of our lesser tribes are capable of such a feat, we must be sure to beat them! We are Ongburz!” I roared, my fist crashing against my chest. We spilled into the hills, silent. This lush region, once one of the Kingdoms responsible for our demise in the past. Not wholly, but responsible nonetheless. Ruined, are the remnants of these kingdoms. Arrows whizzed overhead, coming from our flanks, a cry of alarm erupted from within my ranks, as I turned to look, from within the shadows arrows emerged, striking orcs, and moments later two scores of hooded and cloaked men burst forth, bright blades gleaming as they cut their way through, “Slaughter them!” I cried out, but the sudden assault struck hard at the hearts of the orcs, who were fighting desperately. Though as fast as the assault came, it ended, with near a hundred of ours dead, and one of theirs beside them. My eyes were full of anger, “Its THEM.” I hissed, urging the horde onward, to set up camp on the hills. Perhaps things are more dire then they seem..The sooner we slaughter these, these scum, the better.
