Siege of Gundabad RPG

[piosenniel]

Soredamor's post

Hearing a disgruntled mutter as the goblin trooper turned his back to his Captain, Grûglach growled. The trooper sped up a bit, though he tried not to show his fear. He tried, but he did a poor job of it. The Captain observed this with a smirk. He was proud of how he kept his troops in line, and he enjoyed watching those retreating backs, fear apparent in the swiftness of their pace and their posture, their backs more hunched than usual. Under Grûglach’s eye, he intended them all to cower. He watched the back of the retreating goblin, trying to burn a hole in his back and stir him to running in his fright, but he soon tired of it. It never took Grûglach long to realize he was wasting his time with these creatures.

The fall of Sauron had made the Captain more reliant on himself than ever, and he felt he was wasting time if any of it was spent on anyone else. There were times when it sickened him that he was forced to show some kind of façade of loyalty to be in a secure position, but he realized that it benefited him to remain in his position among the goblins of the Misty Mountains, and that he would not find any benefit elsewhere. But it was one of those times, at that moment, when his disgust took him just slightly over the edge. And the approach of a sniveling lieutenant pushed him a little farther.

“Captain Grûglach, sir?”

The lieutenant, Gorurk, said everything as a question, most likely in fear of being wrong. Grûglach was revolted by this behavior, but he did not hesitate to encourage it by so often telling him how wrong he was. Gorurk waited for his Captain to answer, but Grûglach liked to make people wait. He hated to waste his own time, but he had no qualms about wasting others’. Finally the lieutenant understood that he would not receive acknowledgement, and he continued, his voice now shaking. It was always astounding what a little silence could do.

“There is word from Gundabad...it’s…not very good…”

“Really?” Grûglach spoke with mock surprise. He fooled Gorurk.

“Well…yes, sir… I always tell the truth to you, sir…”

“I’m sure you do, Gorurk.” The Captain said, almost soothingly, but so very contemptuously. “So tell me the truth, and tell me what word has come from Gundabad.”

“There is to be an attack. They say it will be the final attack. They say they will get rid of all that served the Master. Gorurk always praised the Master’s name. They say…”

“I have heard enough of what they say, and more than enough of what you say, Gorurk. We will wait for orders.” Then Grûglach would see if he would follow those orders.

[piosenniel]

Umwë's post

The cold chilly wind didn't scare Grokgash. He sniffed, but couldn't smell anything else than the tempting smell of man flesh that was getting fried over the open fireplace. "Come on you slugs!!" he screamed. "How long should it take for you idiots to get me some food!?" He heard a mumbleing voice behind him. He swiftly turned around and looked angrily at the orc that stood behind him.

"What did you say?!" he hissed to the orc.

"Ehhr, nothing, master, nothing!" the orc said with a low voice.

"Good! Now, get me some food, I am starving here!" Grokgash continued.

He knew that the humans were out there somewhere. He shook of anger when a small orc came shuddering towards him handing him a plate of meat. Grokgash snatched the plate from him and snarled to the orc.

The orc made a screaming sound and turned around and walked away. "Finally!" he said loudly for himself. While he was enjoying the nice meat, another orc came and tapped on his shoulder.

"What now?" Grokgash said without turning around.

"The men are close now, master!" the orc whispered in his ear.

He sighed loudly and rose up from the rock that he was sitting on. "Okay you slugs! These men should not be too hard for you morons! Move it!" he shouted and swung his scimitar in the air. His warcry made the orc's braver and confident. They all rose up and started to swing their spears and scimitars.

[piosenniel]

Boromir88's post

It's a soundless night, the fire is blazing outside the tent Sjorging has pitched, on the outskirts of the settlement ahead. He sits on a log, staring into the roaring fire, remembering, thinking of the situation at hand. His home in Dale, along with the rest of the town, had been overrun by marauding orcs. They were greatly outnumbered and had no choice, but to flee. He has gathered a few of his trusty companions to discuss what had just happened two nights ago, and what will happen.

"We don't have enough men here to make a suitable defense for these raiding orcs," says a tall, bearded man opposite of Sjorging. His name was Gelding. Gelding and Sjorging go back a long way, they had fought side-by-side against Sauron's forces.

'I thought this evil had been defeated a long time ago, they have said Sauron was defeated, and this new King Elessar was restoring order?" states another man sitting next to Gelding, he was Beluf, a member of the town that was overrun some two nights ago.

"Nay," says Sjorging, "Sauron has been defeated, but we are still a long way away from peace and order. There are still orcs occupying Gundabad, has anyone sent word to King Bard?"

"Yes," answers Beluf, "but we are greatly weakened by the war. I fear we are too weak, and Bard doesn't have enough men to come to aid."

"Our scouts report that King Elessar has sent out a force from Gondor to dispose the orcs of Gundabad for good." says Gelding. "But, we don't know when they'll arrive."

"Probably won't arrive in time at all." spouts Sjorging. Word had spread of King Elessar's greatness, and of the coming times of peace. But, Sjorging was doubtful with this recent threat of orcs raiding Dale. To him, he wasn't convinced until he saw the Gondor force himself. Until that time Sjorging, and his companions would fight on.

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Firefoot's post:

Adranel looked out vacantly from her vantage point on the hill overlooking what had once been her village. The snow was no longer white. It was bloodstained by the people of her village and charred by the ashes of their houses. Night was falling, and it was getting cold. Adranel did not have a cloak, but she did not care if she froze. Nothing mattered, because they were gone. Everyone she knew and loved was dead or taken by the Orcs, the latter perhaps the crueler fate than the former. She tried to block away the horrible memories, but still they came back...

It had been a cold, crisp winter’s day. Adranel was alone in the house, for her younger siblings were off with friends and her father and older brothers were working in their small store. She was alerted by raucous cries, cruel laughter, and the ringing of metal on metal. Adranel, like every other person in the village, had hurried outside to see what was happening, though in her heart she knew that it was Orcs. She grabbed her bow without thinking about it, strangely enough since she had long since lost the habit.

Outside, the smell of smoke was thick in the air. The village was burning. She had to find her family and get away - it was the only way to survive. Oh, where could they be? Finally, she found her father on the other side of town. He was wielding a long hunting knife, undoubtedly the only weapon he could find in a hurry. She was about to call out to him when an Orc came from behind and swung its sword through her father’s neck. She stifled a scream and turned and fled, tears streaming down her face. In her haste she nearly passed the body of her fiancé Hergon. A black-feathered arrow shaft was sticking out of his blood-soaked chest. No, no, no, she thought. She knelt down beside him, and found him to still be alive. He opened his eyes at her touch, and the corners of his mouth turned upward.

“Adranel,” he murmured. His breathing sounded labored. Adranel took his hand in hers. “Get away from here, my love. Save your own life, for me. Let me know you are safe.” He closed his eyes again, and Adranel knew he was gone. She rose to her feet, sobs wracking her body. He couldn’t be dead; it wasn’t possible. Surely someone lived. Where were her brothers and sister? She did not know or care where her feet took her now. She ran blindly, her tears blurring her vision. She left the village, left the screams of women and children, left death behind her. Only it would never be gone, because she would never forget...

A lump rose in her throat once more. She had thought she had cried her tears away, but more came. Adranel turned away from the bloody wreckage of the village, for she could not bear to see it any longer. Hergon’s final words tugged at her heart. Let me know you are safe. These words were the only things that gave her will to live, because nothing mattered any more. They were gone. All of them were gone.

[piosenniel]

Novnarwen's post

He washed, the cold water making him giggle. Roughly, he was rubbing his face, trying to wipe away the dirt. His sister had taught him this. It was like magic, he thought, seeing how within seconds the dirt was gone from his face and he was clean. Watching himself in the mirror, he grabbed the kitchen knife. The brown-grey hair was growing out of his face again, something he found very frustrating. He took a hold of his beard with his left hand, and held the knife in his right. With a sudden movement, he had cut of most of his beard, leaving it uneven. It was burning with pain; his cheek. Red liquid started to run down from his chin, and onto his stubbles. Bending, he plunged his face into his little wash-tub. When rising, he looked satisfyingly into the mirror. After a few seconds however, something red was again running from his chin. Sighing, being rather frustrated, he turned quickly towards the door.

The weather was cold, but pleasant. The sun was casting long beams over the landscape. A thick white carpet was covering what once had been green fields. He frowned. When touching it, his fingers froze. When tasting it, his throat went cold and numb. He dropped dead. He looked down at his feet, pained by the coldness of the snow. He went hurriedly inside, finding his boots. He pulled them on, went for the door and slipped outside again.

He giggled to himself and called out. “Aeeeeeeeeeeieeeeeeeeeeia!” He held his hands in the air, running around and at last casting himself to the ground. The snow was piercing through his thin clothing, making him shiver with cold. He did not care though. The feeling of lying here was too great for him to abandon so quickly. He lay still, taking in the fresh winter air.

For a while, he lay motionless on the ground. At last he could not take it anymore; his teeth chattered, his legs were stiffening and his lips were turning blue. His whole body was trembling. Rising, he heard the sound of heavy boots. Being alarmed, yet not afraid, he looked desperately around. Who was coming at this hour? His sister! His sister! He was about to get up, but then he spotted several figures approaching his cottage. They didn’t at all look like his sister, or any other he had ever met. Not daring to move, he watched them. They were many. He giggled, wanting to run towards them, but his body was stiff, his limbs were numb.

It didn’t take long, before they took their leave again; their heavy boots echoing. Dragging himself forth, he suddenly discovered smoke. His cottage was hid behind a mixture of colours; orange, red and yellow. Slowly, he was drawn by the heat coming from it. He laughed merrily, feeling better at once. After a few hours, his cottage had disappeared; the ground where his cottage had stood was black; just like magic he thought.

[piosenniel]

Beserker_Warrior's post

Snagar stood on the hill above the trench. He could smell men on their way here. His soldiers would be ready, they were below in the trenches, waiting. His men would feast on manflesh soon. He was their leader, the one that they trusted but feared, he would keep them in line and reward them with fresh meat.

Snagar turned and walked down to the trench. "You and you ,up to the hill you maggots!" Snagar needed to keep lookouts on the hill to watch for any one who might be headed in this direction. They went without complaint or any sign of unwillingness, to have done so would have been death. Inwardly Snagar smiled, his force was the one who would have all the spoils and all the glory and a realm of their own. Snagar could even be called the king. That was what he really wanted, anything that he could get for himself, as is the nature of all orcs. Snagar remembered the days of living in the hills before and after Sauron was defeated, he and his tribe had been an advance guard for Mordor, but nothing had ever happened until the defeat of the Great Eye and the Wraiths.

[piosenniel]

Sarin Mithrilanger's post

"Get yer weapons and get moving," the commander was always yelling and making sure everything went as planned. They had been waiting here for what seemed like an eternity and it seemed they would be waiting even longer. Ugwakh stayed in his chair sharpening his swords and occasionally tearing into his small helping of mutton. He had the wonderful duty of watching after the goblins making and stringing the bows.

Why am I still punished for food! He thought angerily as he supervised these wretched vermin who did not deserve to do battle along side of him. They were only useful with bows and were useless when the enemy came nearer. He only wanted to do battle again....and taste his enemies' blood once more.