Author: tazliel
Date:May 17 2012
The sun was setting down and the horn blew to signal the outpost it was time
to begin activities.
Another night to work.
Tazghul woke up with a grunt, his back sore from the soft and exquisite elven
bed. He had to get ready to meet with the commanders and present his solution
to the forest elves problem.
He hated that bed but to sleep in it was a proof of his rank among the various
tribes, races and groups currently installed in the captured fort.
Spoils of war, he earned that room in the elven outpost by throwing the
previous occupant, a stinky and vicious cave goblin, through the door. His aim
wasnt so good and it took him a few tries before the smaller creature got
tired of hitting the walls and limped out by himself.
The life expectancy of a soldier was low, there was always someone willing to
take what you had, and who cares if you died in the process. So over the years
a kind of brutal and merciless order naturally established itself : the
stronger took from the weak, as it should be, but mindless killing could have
repercussion, even more so if you were useful enough to earn the protection of
the commanders.
Now that the orcs tribes had once again be united to do the work of the Great
Eye, the shadow of Shark on them was darker than ever. It was ironic that the
humans were calling the wizard The White, as under his command dung-dwellers
have been put to the task of building lairs wide enough to house weapons and
gears chain factories, always going deeper into the earth.
Men-orcs like Tazghul had been selected to learn know-how from captured
dwarven smiths and whole new generation of half-orcs were spawning from the
rape of female captives of all races. Those with more strength than wit were
used as shock troops, heavies or, as he called them, decoys. Others were
producing and improving gears used by the armies, mastering the bribes of
magic allowed by the old man, enough to bypass the easiest magical defenses of
the enemies. All had one crucial advantage over the cave dwellers, they could
face the light of day. They could fight after the safety of darkness was long
gone. That was a trait mandatory to keep the progress made during the night,
to expand the dominion of Mordor over the day-walkers lands.
However even the hybrids were now bowing to new black breed created by the
magic of the old man. Those were stronger, smarter, more cunning than most and
they were utterly devoted to him, much to the despair of the snagga. But the
strategist had been able to find his place in this new order.
The half-orc was not a commander yet but his superior intellect gave him a
knack for survival and power grabbing. Early in life, he learnt that what was
needed was not pure strength but the right mix of coercion, violence, cruelty
and submission. And he could always find some brutes to stand by him when he
needed to make a points on more powerful rivals. Up to a certain points.
His current status demonstrated by that particular bedroom was the result of
his cunning. After days of waves of foot soldiers crashing upon the defenses
of the outpost and slaughtered by the spells and arrows of the curses elves,
Ugluk the acting commander beheaded the previous strategist and tossed the
head to Tazghul, clear message to do better than his unfortunate predecessor.
And better he did...
But now another night awaited, more work to do and with a little more luck, he
would keep his head on his shoulders.