The Third Age: A Lord of the Rings RP (IC/Open)

[Liecthenbourg]

Dol Guldur, Mirkwood
Five thousand soldiers of Rhun stood at attention, their shields on their arms, their pikes held high and their scimitars on their belts. Behind them stood five hundred archers, their bows and quivers upon their backs. Here they stood within the gap between the walls of Dol Guldur, watching as their Officer, a Genmet Yirra informed them of the current situation from atop his horse.

"... We are to march out of this mighty fortress to meet up with the forces of Sauron upon the Northern Vale of the Forest of Lorien. From here, we will strike down into the heart of the Forest to end the opposition the Elves here have given to Lord Sauron" Genmet finished from atop his horse, pulling the reins upon the creature as he held his other hand high.

A great response followed, a booming echo throughout the fortress and forest accompanied by a clattering of swords and pikes upon shields. "Za dashu snaku Zigur, Durbgu nazgshu, Durbgu dashshu! Hail Sauron, Lord of the Ring, Lord of the Earth!" with that, the Orcs manning the gate of the fortress opened its mighty doors as the Rhunic Force marched out, banners of the eye in their hands and determination in their hearts.

The Barad-dur, Mordor
The Mouth of Sauron sat at his desk, quill in hand as he filled in information into a ledger. Force locations, fortresses and such. He gently shut the ledger, letting the quill rest upon his desk as a knock came to his door.
"Enter" he replied, intertwining his hands upon his desk.
The Orc stepped in, bowing before the Lieutenant and quickly speaking his message. "The Lord Sauron wishes for you to travel to Umbar, to the Great Catacombs beneath the city to seek out information about and on long lost of the sons of Numenor"
The Lieutenant's mouth formed his famous small grin, before he beckoned the Orc to leave. Without much of a commotion he had left his office and arrived at the stables, mounting his steed Shakhgul. Spurring the steed onwards and with a flick of the reins, the Mouth departed from Mordor.

35 Catapults = 2100 Strength

[G-Tech Corporation]

Irkagnthand, South Limlight Vale

In the deep watches of the night the smoke was barely visible, but with the coming of the day what the sentries said was confirmed by the eyes of all who took themselves to the apex of the tower; Fangorn, the mighty forest to their west, burned with a fell red light. Many of the Orcs were happy for the destruction of the woods- long had their kin despised the trees for reasons only barely known at the edge of their minds, and now their foes the Galadrim would be hard pressed to launch an assault on the forces of Mordor in secret, with the marches to both the north and west ravaged by fire. Still up the Dwimmer Road came the great wains bearing enormous blocks of black stone for the hands of the builders, and though some grumbled at the derth of wood due to the forest fires, many logs had already been retrieved, and a great labor was begun a few meters away from the entrance to the rising citadel; with cunning hands and sharp minds the artisans that served the Black Tower shaped and crafted, hewed and sanded, preparing a surprise for their Elven friends to the north. High would it be built, strong and terrible, and the foes of Sauron the Mighty would tremble at its wrath.

The Jagged Fastness, North Vale of Mirkwood

Across the river the Orcs watched as more of the Rangers moved in to the northern fields to continue their work of laying seeds in the soil. Many hilarious tales were told around the campfires of the obsession of the Elves and their witch-queen with trees and growing things, some ribald, some merely salacious; but the work progressed. Nearly finished laying their extension to the Darkway were these soldiers of the Black Land, and only the culverts and ditches had yet to be cut into the soil to collect the runoff of the regular rains of this northern clime. Some of the engineers had constructed some clever devices to harass the Elves, and whenever one came near the River the siege workers practiced shooting thick javelins of wood at them with the ballistae; it was grand sport, and much needed target practice, though only a few times did they actually succeed in striking their quarries.

Western Osgiliath

The great city was lost; from all the streets came the sound of battle, of the harsh cries of Orcs and the battle-yells of Men; though the soldiers of Gondor withdrew in as good an order as they could muster, the large roads and streets afforded too the armies of Mordor many points to enter the ruined city. Soon the fighting was hot about the retreating columns, and some units were cut off by retreat by the Orcs pouring into the city from the north, even as at the edges of the Anduins the Bridge was forced and the barges made fast, and the armies long prepared in Osgiliath were unleashed on their foes. Many hundreds of Orcs and men were slain in the battle, which swiftly became a retreat. Then the city was clear of soldiers, save a few knots of Gondorians fighting where they had been cut off from their comrades, and through the fields of the Pelennor the soldiers of Gondor marched, their eyes towards the White City, their backs to their foes, aside from the few brave men who fought to buy them time to escape. The wind came up, from the north, and its sound was like the baying of hundreds of wolves; the Warg-host of the North had come. Ravening and slavering they pursued the men of Gondor, some loosing crude arrows from afar, the rest bearing great spears and scimitars as their beasts' teeth gleamed like swords in the light of the setting sun just barely peaking out from under the reek of Orodruin. The sun went down red in its wrath, and the sky was tinged with the rich scarlet of blood.

Tolfalas, Bay of Belfalas

Through the village strode the Orc-kin, the warriors of the Barad-Dur, and some of the people looked out at them with interest, while others cowered in fear. Of the mixed lineages of Umbar and Dol Amroth was this land, for both Harad and Gondor had occupied it in days past. Until recently it had been a base for some of the ships of Gondor who fought with the Corsairs, but now the tiny harbour and garrison had been emptied, the tall white vessels sent upriver to fight the foes of the Steward upon the banks of the Anduin. Only the soldiers of Mordor bore arms upon Tolfalas now, and soon they received news of a new great boon; in gratefulness for their labor in subduing Tolfalas, the Corsairs had sent ten great ships staffed with some of their best sailors, to join the fleet of Annatar, the Lord of Gifts.

Jovogaruk, Vale of the Isen

Through the gates of the partially-finished fortress they stomped, a half dozen trolls and a few hundred Orcs. They set about looking for the lord of this rapidy-expanding Orcish dominion, to offer him their swords, for they had been sent by the Dark Lord of the East.

10 Ballistae recruited in the Jagged Fastness
2800 Morannon Orcs recruited, 1000 at Lebennin, 1800 at Dol Guldur

---

Karthburg, Western Adorn Vale

The men of Rohan merely stared dumbly as one of the Orcs outside the gate began spouting some nonsense. More soldiers ran up, and the archers above the crude gate raised their bows.

"This is your last warning, Orcs. Disperse back to your holes, or you will suffer."

[Jordslag]

Realm of Isengaruk
The Second in Command, Avarkal, was woken up by his minions. He scrambled towards the new Orcs and Trolls, and snarled, "Who sent you? Where did you come from?!" Waving his Bow.

Karthburg, Western Adorn Vale
Jovotal shrugged, and gave the signal for his Archers to ready. He then threw a Torch at the Wooden Wall. "Charge! Leave no armed man alive!" His 20 Archers fired a volley, and his Spearmen charged towards the gate to try to break it down. Jovotal, in the meantime, put his Sword between his teeth and began firing his bow. Due to Human stubbornness, war had begun. The Orcs would win.

160 Orc Warriors, 40 Orc Archers

[Bearon]

Sari man simmered with rage that the dragon had betrayed him and only burned down a part of Fangorn. Calming himself Sarumam put aside thoughts of revenge and began thinking if his next move sending emissaries to the Orc band that had begun to spread across the Isen was the first objective on his list while at the same time building an Orc pit just below the surface of Fangorn. Sending the builders to Fangorn and an emissary to the Orc band Saruman set about to continue construction on the fortress and tunnels throughout Isengard.

Results: Continued construction of the Misty Mountains fortress and Isengard tunnels and the recruitment of 1,000 Orcs and 2,000 goblins.

[The Starlight]

Caras Galadhon

The Lindon reinforcements had already arrived and were ready for battle, if the need came. Galadriel and Celeborn would soon discuss with Lord Illiahn were their troops were to be deployed. The Galadhrim startaed to fortify the forest and the Wardens were at the forefronts of these efforts, which would so down the enemy if they made it into the forest. Traps, hidden pits and secret hideouts were being built all over the forest, and though the Galadhrim's eyes were sharp enough to avoid the traps, the orcs' were not. The building of the Eastern Fortress continued as usual, and slowly but surely, the stone walls were being raised.

Northern Vale of Lothlorien

The Wardens and other elves continued to plant new trees and water their garden. The trees would be of all kinds, including fruit trees, birches, oak, mallorns and all sorts of other trees. The 2 ballistas and 2 trebuchets were only slightly behind them. The siege weapons would hopefully stop a crossing over the Anduin and provide support to the elves. The elves began to build a wooden palisade around the Vale, as the first line of defense. The palisade encircled the trees and the garden. Also, a barracks would be built in this camp. Also, wooden stakes were planted outside of the palisade to serve as more defense. More Galadhrim soldiers also came into the camp, to be the vanguard of any attack from across the river. The Galadhrim were cautious and worried, for many orcs had been spotted across the river watching the Galadhrim, and the Lords of Lorien feared an attack. So 100 Galadhrim Warriors, 79 Noldorin Swordsmen, 50 Wardens, 30 Galadhrim Spearmen and 50 Galadhrim Heavy Archers had been redeployed to the new camp. All of Lorien's Wardens had recieved an upgrade of arrows, now having normal arrows and fire arrows. Lindon's forces would remain in the forest for now.

Parth Celebrant Camp, Southern Vale of Lothlorien

The elves here also prepared for an attack. The elven forces at the camp with the 2 Ballistas and 2 Catapults were determined adequate for now, though more elves would probably be set. The wooden palisade was complete and the sharp stakes were also sent. The cavalry forces remained a surprise for any attackers. The elves had begun to plant trees behind the camp and these also would be all kinds of fruits.

North Fangorn Forest

The Wardens had also started to build traps in Fangorn. It was already a precarious place and few would enter of their own free will, however, the elves enjoyed the forest and its marvels and considered the forest their home. Some of the elves also began to travel to the south of the Forest and start replanting trees, though still behind cover, to remain undetected. The ashes or what was left of the seven Wardens who perished were recovered and buried after a ceremony. But the elves would not forget this, nor would they forgive. The elves had remained completely unnoticed so far, and they preferred to keep it that way. They had finally succeeded in eradicating the fire from the south of the forest and so the replanting began.

Angmar

The elven emissaries carefully rode towards Angmar. After looking among the ruins of the ruined fell fortress, they found some Hill-men, once of Rhudaur. The Hill-men had hidden after the Witch-King had taken over and were still friendly toward the forces of good. They were told that once the Witch King came, the Avari had fled farther north. Thanking the Hill-men, the elves remounted and continued to travel north.

South Fangorn Forest

The elf emissary had led 700 Men of Tharbad through the Gap of Rohan and had passed Nan Curunir. Now they entered Fangorn Forest from the south. The elf wept when he saw the destruction done to it. But there was no time for weeping, so he drew back his tears and carried on. The war party soon disappeared behind the trees.

Note: Check archive for latest troop locations.

Recruitment
1 Ship in the Celebrant (Silverlode) River
1 Ballistae in Caras Galadhon
132 Noldorin Swordsmen
150 Galadhrim Heavy Archers
50 Galadhrim Spearmen

[The Starlight]

Mirkwood

Gonurl's various mandibles curled back and twisted in a horrible mockery of a smile. "Surrender," he rasped. "Surrender now, give up your halls, and flee from this forest. Mirkwood is ours by right. If you grant it to us freely, you will be allowed to leave." His smile disappeared. His voice changed, deepened, his accent reflecting the ancient hatred of Ungoliant for all things light. "If you do not accept this generous deal, we will destroy you. We will drive you wailing and bleeding from your lands and we will tear down your halls. I will personally rip out your heart, and consume it still-beating. All this I swear on the venom of Ungoliant, which destroyed the Two Trees of Valinor. All this I swear on the darkness outside of the worlds. All this I swear on Grond, the Hammer of Lord Morgoth. Thrice I swear this, and done. Flee peacefully, or face your death."

The Elf-King's gaze became icy-cold as he responded.
"How is the Greenwood yours by right? The Sindarin elves have lived in this forest for more than 2 ages. You spiders, only came here in the third age. Nay, I say to you, surrender and leave. Do you not remember the stories of old? Do not ignite the fury of the Eldar, which has not been quenched with the passage of time. The valour and glory of the elves of old is still present, even among the woodland elves. We elves have lived in the Greenwood before it came Mirkwood and we will continue to do so. I say to you surrender, or face your own destruction. But there is another way. We may consider allowing you to live in the Mountains of Mirkwood peacefully as long as you do not attack any elves or make alliances with the forces of evil. For if you persist in your efforts, then the black blood of spiders will become a river of doom. Your lairs will be hunted out, and the elves will not rest until you have been defeated. Do not underestimate the fury of the Eldar, do not provoke us. We can allow you to leave this land peacefully and with no bloodshed, as long as you do not attack any of the Free People of Middle-Earth. What say you?"

[Shaggai]

Gonurl laughed. "You would ask me to surrender? Such arrogance, as is typical of your kind. Very well then. It is war." The party of spiders retreated back into the bulk of the army, as Gonurl began to plan the attack.

[Turkiet]

Shire

Witch king had a great gift, he was a very good hunter. From now he followed the traces left from the hobbit and the grey wizard. The other nazgul will soon meet up with their chief and continue their looking for the One ring. He had no intention to fail his mission given by the mighty dark lord Sauron. Before the nazgul went different ways the Witch King had ordered one of his servant to ride back to Mordor and lead Sauron's army.

[Elerian]

~Tharbad~

Imradis heard that things were amiss on the Greyflood. Imradis decided that it would be best to aid what people remained there and hopefully gain their allegiance. It sounded as though there were droves of ruffians harassing the people of the south. Imradis sent a hundred cavalrymen and double that many Men of Tharbad.

~Misty Mountains~

Katla lay in her lair letting her forces grow. She now had several Trolls guarding her home and hundreds of Goblins to do her bidding. She had an urge however. An urge to go to her home, the Withered Hearth, and so she left. Katla took flight and left behind her growing clutch. Curiously, she saw, the fires had been put out. Swaths of Greenland were still left. Katla could not allow this. She swooped down as she past the eastern border of Fangorn. A great fiery death spewed forth over a swath of the greenery. Green turned to red as the fires spread and Katla’s wings accelerated the burning. Then she was off.

~Osgiliath~

The men ran for their lives, leaving behind the awful screams of the dying, the battle cries of those fighting for their lives, and the ferocious screams of the Orcs going berserk. The orders were given; they were to run, and to live. With their tail between their legs they quickly retreated, and in the dozens they were killed. But for every man they lost they made the forces of evil pay dearly. Archers harried the Orcs the entire way. And any Orcs caught by themselves or in small enough groups the cavalrymen rode them down with impunity. At varying intervals in their haste the Orcs broke ranks and chased the fleeing men. As they left their formations horsemen waited in nearby alleyways or behind rubble to ride them down. Many Orcs in their rage died in this fashion and for the ground they took from Gondor they paid dearly. Once they were outside however it brought new meaning to the phrase out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The bulks of the reinforcements had arrived and were waiting for the remainder of the men. Any groups of men trapped close enough within the city were rescued by the cavalry and brought back to the main army. And now it was time to march back to Minis Tirith. It was vital that the men kept their cohesion and stayed as one unit. Elsewise the army would be routed and every man would be reliant on themselves to survive. A majority of the cavalry moved to the north of the army or to the rear and kept any pursuing Orcs away. The Cavalry to the north formed a hollow crescent facing towards the north. When the Wargs came upon them they went into the crescent with their spears to attack and try to harry the men. As they approached the archers loosed volleys of arrows until they were too close to shoot without hitting friendly units. As they closed the horsemen rode to meet them. Near a thousand in strength they had just as many as the Wargs and the fight for once would be even. Should the Wargs engage the cavalry would let them, if not they would remain with the footmen and archers and let the archer’s rain hell upon the Wargriders.

In the south the reinforcements from the Gondorian territories came in orderly fashion. They were taken aback at the sight of the retreating army though it did not surprise them much. Osgiliath was a difficult enough place to defend with its decrepit walls. They marched quicker to be of aid to their comrades should the need arise. The word would be sent that barracks would be built to provide a steady supply of troops to Minis Tirith from Dol Amroth, Pelargir, Linhir, Ethring, Calembel, and Edhellond. Minis Tirith would also need to build a barracks as well.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Plains of Rhovanion

West from the forest the line of black figures labored in the hot sun, a slowly expanding rivulet of Orcs and men working to tear back the skin of the earth and expose the thick clay and rock that lay beneath several feet of the soil. Whatever you wished to say, this was a hard land, baked almost as if in a kiln by the summer fire of the rising star of the heavens. But that was no deterrent to the forces that served the Dark Tower; through the gasping dust of Gorgoroth they had marched, in the blazing heat of the Desolation, and in comparison this land was a veritable paradise, full of scattered groves of trees to rest under, and with a thick water table that could be tapped with only a modest amount of ingenuity, fed by the rains of Mirkwood and the aquifer that underlay the River Running many miles still to the north. At intervals along the ribbon of black stones the engineers of Mordor had delved wells to bring up the liquid treasure beneath the soil, each merely operated by a turning crank that even the most parched soldier could operate with ease. From these contraptions the thirst of the workers was slaked, and in months to come would burst forth the irrigation canals that the lord who watched these operations, the Southron Arvalan, had planned for this land. From atop the small wooden tower he had had his underlings construct it was still barely possible to see the Spur of Mirkwood, south of the Bight, and from it rumbled carts drawn by draft animals bringing many logs for his purposes in this wild country.

West Osgiliath

Within the city the slaughter was fierce; Maglub rushed forward with his comrades, hacking down some more of the Gondorian swine in the rubble-choked alleyways of the city, and then a clatter of hooves started to his left. From out of a narrow defile some horsemen tried to kick their mounts up to speed, thinking to ambush the Orcs. The harsh laugh that the spawn of Morgul shared with his fellow was not the first he had had this day, nor the last; the beasts, though graceful and deft-footed in open country, made slow going indeed of the bodies and fallen stone and small spaces of the former urban center. The cavalrymen came at the Orcs at little more than a gentle trot, despite their efforts to kick their horses into a charge, and with a duck and a thrust of his short spear Maglub cut open the belly of one of the tall animals. It foundered, screaming like a woman, and the man atop it fell to earth heavily in his armor. With a snarl the Orc stepped forward and pinned the Westron man to the flagstones with his spear, and the light winked out in his eyes even as the spurt of crimson blood left his lips. In the messy close quarters fighting of the ruined city mounted soldiers were no more than meat for the grinder, little able to use the speed and height of their steeds to any real effect, though in the main throughfares that ran west and east they kept back some of the smaller companies of advancing Orcs. On Maglub ran as his fellows pulled down the last of the riders and slew them, and in a span of a few strides he had rejoined his advancing company, the wedges of soldiers of Mordor pushing down from the north to cut off the escape of the foe. He looked up to see some of the archers that the men had left on the few intact roofs of the buildings in this rubble of a city fall with many black shafts in their chests, tumbling like dolls into the chaos below; upon the quarters and streets the Orcs had taken their own bowmen swarmed like ants, sending a hail of darts and iron death towards the large marching companies of those who bore the livery of Minas Tirith as they amassed in the main corridors out of the city. And from the east the Orcs came too in their thousands, and the great Uruks, their armor thick and their shields broad. They drove against the cavalry and the rearguard of the men of Gondor with long spears and cruel blades, and then from the north came a great terror; stomping out of the passageways where their work had been hot, and followed by legions of Orcs, the Olog-Hai of the Barad-Dur were come. They tore through man and horse with clubs as tall as two men, flinging bodies like so much chaff in the wind, hewing paths through the disciplined order of the retreat like woodsmen in a forest. Into the gaps they tore poured the Orcs in their dark companies, their banners tall and scarlet, the Great Eye emblazoned and glaring. The battle was hot, but most of the host of Gondor managed to escape the confines of the city, though their dead were scattered like leaves after a storm along the main roads, and every byway was choked with fair men with eyes unseeing, fathers and brothers who would never go home to their family or hear the silver trumpets of the Tower of Echthelion ever again.

Once the city was cleared, only a portion of the great hosts assembled against Gondor continued outside the wall; about ten thousands in total, all tall Uruks with great shields and hot blood. They pursued with legs unwearied by battle, made of hardy stuff almost like unto the soldiers of Numenor of old, the fellest of the creatures the Dark Lord kept in his service. Against the cavalry that was the rearguard of the men of Gondor they drove, their spears seeking for their foes, pikes lined in a formation six deep as they pummeled the line of horsemen; and from their rear bolts of steel rose and fell, fired from the large longbows favored by their race, slaying man and beast and even reaching out to strike down the retreating backs of the enemy infantry. To the north the Wargs howled and slavered for blood- a noise like a wind came from the south, and many in the first line were cut down, but still the Orcs raced onwards, their swords raised high for the attack. Against the two horns of the crescent of the horsemen of Gondor they rushed, dividing in twain at the deep blast of a horn, and the crash of their meeting was like the roar of the sea. The cavalrymen of Gondor, their stationary posture no match for the momentum of the charge, were in many places unseated, and harried by the fierce and fell Wargs- for while a horse could fight infantry with iron-shod hooves, a Warg had a mouth meant for killing deer and elf in the mountains, and many a horseman found himself falling to earth suddenly, his horse dead from a broken neck from the Warg fangs around its throat, only to find the same blood-dripping sabers coming for himself in short order. Nearly two to one and over the Wargs outnumbered their Gondorian foes, and with the attention of the horsemen divided between preventing pursuit from the city and fighting the terrible wolf-cavalry of Mordor assailing them from the north, the battle was hot and soon the air reeked of the iron scent of blood and the screams of horses and men.

Irkagnthand, South Limlight Vale

To the west the Orcs watched the continued burning of the forest of Mirkwood with respect and not a little bit of admiration in their eyes. The most far-sighted of them had spied the swooping form of a dragon above the inferno, sending forth long seeking tongues of flame to feed the blaze, and it glittered in the red light of the rising fire like a jewel in the dark. Their commanders knew not why a dragon would be in this part of the world; all knew the terrible beasts, ancient creations of Morgoth, were more fond of the cold climes and rich treasures of the Grey Mountains, and the Withered Heath, where they bred. But no word had come from the south, from Uttmar, about what the soldiers were to do in such a circumstance. So they continued their building, thankful they had taken the wood they needed and had a supply of stone from the south, and the cunning contraption continued to rise by the craft of the engineers. Forging the cable that had been necessary they could not have done here, in this outlying outpost of the might of Mordor, but from the south it had come in a supply caravan, for the communication system of the post-riders of the Black Land was efficient indeed.

The Jagged Fastness, North Vale of Mirkwood

Across the River the Orcs watched the comings and goings of the Elves of Lorien; in some force they had marched up from the south, giving aid to those who had been few in number before. It was intriguing, to see the Elves log those trees that had already lived in the land of ancient times, though few they were in the rolling plains, and see them replant other trees from their Golden Wood to the south. In the minds of many it was a fitting analog for the ways of the Galadrim and the west; only one mode of thought they could accept, regardless of the equal veracity of that way of living, and they would destroy and uproot that with they found against their own close-minded thoughts, as they tore down the old trees to make way for those of their native land. The Orcs were of a more adaptable kin; hounded and hunted over the many long years throughout all of Middle-Earth, they could be found living in deep forests, in craggy hills, at the roots of towering mountains, and even, as their brothers the Gongs did in the east, roaming here and there across the broad plains. By contrast the Elves were a people of trees only, set in their ways, an artifact of ancient times unable to let go of their vanished glory and look to the future. They were fading, while men and Orcs secured their own dominions upon Arda. Here, this battle for Lorien, was but a symptom of the wider turning of the world, and soon Elf-kind would be no more than a fading memory amidst the silent trees of Lorien. Black and sinuous the road to the south now wound up to the ramparts of the growing construction, and many wains brought timber and skilled artisans to aid in the construction. Knowledge too they brought, from the passages of the Silverlode, and a fiendish idea of replication came soon into the hearts of the engineers attendant upon the Fastness, and a hard labor was begun.

Linhir, South Gondor

Across the rolling plains and the fertile fields they came, marching by the cobblestone highway that led east, a heavy irony of situation when one considered that that road eventually bent north to reach the White City. Hundreds of Orcs, thousands even, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth in the city that lay on the banks of the River Serni and before the beleageur of Dor-en-Ernil was a sound to hear. Far away were their soldiers, marching at the orders of their feudal lords to die upon the walls of ancient Minas Tirith surrounded by a sea of their foes, not here to protect their families and homes from the depradations of the hosts of Mordor. Into the town the Orcish companies swept, and up the river and the slight bay came ships with sails as black as the onrushing wall of night. Luckily for the people of Linhir Sauron's lieutenants had a good handle on their soldiers, and discipline was largely maintained. Some homes were looted, some livestock taken as the spoils of war, and the baron was cast off of the wall to be dashed to pieces on the rocks below the river-side water gate. But there was no burning, no rapine, and the looters were even somewhat reasonable, taking luxuries, gold and steel, not the food upon which the people lived. That had been taken in the fertile countryside, and soon Linhir settled down to its new Mordorian occupiers. Upon the highway of Gondor the armies of the Black Land now camped in their thousands.

Pelargir, South Gondor

With five hundred Orcs hauling on the chain on one end, and six small barges rowed by hundreds more on the other, the thick lengths of bronze were finally towed through the waves of the Anduin, and with hammer and chisel and ponderous stone blocks were they secured on either bank of the Anduin in the towers erected for that purpose. Capstans and windlasses as tall as a troll could be used to lower the chain, each link of which which was as thick as a man's torso, into the depths to allow the passage of friendly vessels from Umbar, or those ships that flew under the scarlet ensign of Lugburz. Thick spikes were at intervals along the boom, to hole ships who tried to ram the chain, and with this effort and military innovation the Orcs would trammel the fleet of Gondor in the passages of the Anduin, where they could be easily sunk or simply deprived of supplies until they were little more than ghost ships.

Nindalf

Here the wetlands where the Entwash flowed into the Anduin stretched for miles, but the Great River was slow and sluggish, and for this reason the Dark Lord had chosen it as a part of his stratagem. Though building the causeway into the marshes was perilous and poor work, carting loads of earth from the hills at the base of the Morannon and the Emyn Muil through Angfalch and south and west to raise the roadway needed by Mordor was what hundreds of Orcs had been set to do. One did not simply refuse orders that had come straight from the Black Gate. Eventually they would make their way to the edge of the Anduin, after the Dwimmerway had been extended from the Passes of the Dead Marshes to the north and east- which were really an extension of the Nindalf- and then a large bridge could be cast across the Great River with time and labor, to aid the passage of arms and soldiers thither into the marches of Anorien and the East Emnet beyond.

Isengaruk

At the head of the column of soldiers from Mordor an Uruk stepped forward, and spoke to the Orc that had challenged him. "I am Larthal, servant of the Dark tower, lietanaeunt of Dol Marathim, called by men Nan Ungol. The host with me marches at the order of my lord Sauron, the Lidless Eye, for we have heard by many means of the rise of Orcs of valor and worth in this wild and untamed land. Here I have come, for here the rumors have led me, to your rising fortress, a symbol of your strength of will. As my commander bade me, I am here to offer you my services, to labor in tandem with your soldiers and workers, and with me are several hundreds of my fellow Orcs and some specimens of the mighty race of the Olog-Hai, the Fell-Trolls of Gorgoroth, who also would join their cause with your own."

Vale of Mist, Eastern Emyn Muil

In to the low rocky islet in the crags the convoy of Underfolk and Mahor's men marched; he was weary, but content. No bandits had accosted them on their journey, and the Rhun man had learned much on his journey. The Mewlips were few in number, but both stronger and more clean of limb and mind in comparison to their Orcish brethren. Their strange tongue he had slowly picked up on the journey south. It was sonorous and slow, like a great tree swaying in a mighty breeze, not like the harsh consonants of the Black Speech, though the two shared much of their linguistic lineage. In the nights he and the Moon-Speaker had laid before the campfire as it burned low, and she had spoken of days past, ancient times before his people had even been a people. Of fiery battle, fierce elves, and cold starlight she had spoken. Strange to him it seemed, to look down the passage of years in her eyes, and see times so long past. Almost as ghosts were the stories, full of dead people and silent faces that had once lived and breathed and fought and loved. He learned of the bloodthirst of the Elves, the arrogance of the first Men, and the great hosts of the lord Melkor, who was to the Underfolk their deity. Mahor knew that his father had worshiped Melkor before Sauron, but in his youth he had instead pursued homage to the Dark Lord; a man of action, obeisance to a Lost God did not appeal to him, but rather one he could hear and fight for. But as Celduy painted the armies in to being, the radiant gleam of fire on black steel, the endless banners, the greatest of Dragons and the red power of the Valaraukar that led the hosts of her lord... ah, then Mahor could feel his blood hot in his chest, and perhaps even thought he could worship such a lord who had created such splendor and martial prowess.

All these and more the man of the East treasured up in his heart, contemplating them, weighing them, as his silent companion rode forward with him. Behind them his men and the Underfolk exchanged jokes, telling tall tales as men and women were wont to do; such it was among the sons of Men, and so it was with the Underfolk, the kin of the Orcs, as well. On the back of each of the obsidian creatures were sacks carrying all they had owned, and here in this fertile vale a new life would they have. Eventually the Moon-Speaker called a halt, before a large cave. Mahor nodded to her, and he and some of his men explored it thoroughly. Seldom were such caves in the mountains, or even the crags such as here, unoccupied. But naught did he find, save some old steel armor rusting near some bones. Doubtless a troll or some other great beast had once lived here, but the reek could not even be smelled any more. It must have been dead and gone for a century or more, for the stench of any self-respecting troll to have dissipated.

In to the darkness the Mewlips marched, and as the last one of the denizens of the dungeons of Dol Guldur turned to wave goodbye, Celduy walked back out, bearing a parcel wrapped in rough silk. Where she got it, Mahor knew not, but she indicated he should loose the ties and open the package. He drew it open, and lo inside there gleamed a mail shirt, its rings glittering like the stars. Not mithril was this, but darkforged steel, the metal in antiquity of the weapons of the captains of Melkor. He bowed low, overawed by such a gift, and so on good terms the two parted.

After grazing their horses for a few days amidst the deep rainy vales of the Emyn Muil, Mahor set out south, towards the marches of Gondor. The rumor of war was strong in the land, and many merchants had spoken of battles being fought there. Glory would the Rhun men have, at last.

---

Karthburg, Western Adorn Vale

Through the portcullis of the gate whistled several arrows from the Orc archers outside, and the men of the watch and gate-guards leapt away, seeking cover, though two dropped with moans and screams, clutching wounds. "Attack! Attack! To me, men of Rohan, fire, foes!" yelled Thormund, huddling behind a barrel. Soon nearly three dozen men had he assembled in the shadow of a brothel, and with their spears and shields set they rushed towards the gate, thrusting and cutting at the Orcs with their weapons through the metal bars that blocked the foe. Atop the crude gatehouse several archers loosed shafts with steel-tipped death into the roiling mass of black creatures; a slight scent of smoke filled the air, but the logs of the wall were fire-hardened, and would not burn before a single torch, and soon the device smoldered out, leaving only a tinge of soot on the outer wall.

[Jordslag]

The Strong Orc Shieldwall held back the arrows. They charged into the town, stabbing anyone in their path. The Archers began lighting their arrows on fire, and firing at both the wall send the other Archers. Jovotal charged at the Guardamen, Sword Swinging wildly. He grunted, in Orc: "Charge! We haven't a moment to waste! We outnumber and are stronger then these Pigs! Charge I say!"

The Orc Commander grunted, letting them past, onto the plain where the Fortress was being Built. "As you can see, we haven't gotten very far. We barely have enough Living Space for our workers. The way you could help us most would be to capture nearby villages for us, and tell Sauron that we are totally at his service. The Entire reason we are here is because Jovotal, our leader was chased out of the Misty Mountains for supporting Peace with Humanity. We pretty much control the Mouth of the River, so far."

[Maineiacs]

Wormtongue was rather worried. He had made his offer of allegiance to Saruman with the understanding that when Saruman was victorious, he, Gríma, would be given Éowyn as his reward, and would be Saurman's lieutenant at Edoras. He did not expect the wizard to burn down Fangorn forest, and had no idea that orcs from Mordor would invade the Wold. Had Saruman foreseen it? Did he have a plan for the orcs? Where Saruman's own uruk-hai? Wormtongue hated not feeling as though he had no control over a situation, conveniently setting aside the thought that he never really had been in control of this; Saruman had always called the shots. What was he to do? Éomer had returned to the Eastfold to meet the orc invasion, Théodred had gone to Helm's Deep to see to the evacuation of Westfold farmsteads near the eaves of Fangorn, but instead of being relieved that his chief adversaries were no longer eying him suspiciously he was more troubled than ever. The fire had made the idea of trying to report to Isengard more or less impossible. He had no idea what to do next. Stalling for time would only work to a point.

[Shaggai]

Mirkwood

Night had fallen. The elves would be at more of a disadvantage in this darkness. Yes, they would still be able to see, but the spiders owned the night. The army was ready to strike. Gonurl decided to send out a small assault to test the Elvish defenses, and perhaps to do some damage. Three Olog-Hai lumbered forwards, hurling boulders at the Elvish gate. When they got close enough, they began to pound on it. Meanwhile, a force of 150 Spiderlings rushed up the walls. They would certainly be killed, but they would distract the defenders for a few crucial moments.

5000 Spiderlings (150 of which are attacking)
750 Great Spiders
125 Uruk Riders (1 Great Spider, 1 Uruk)
12 Olog-Hai (3 of which are attacking)

Othronn Ungol

The work on the tower was going well. They were about a third of the way done. Some of them took a bit of time off to construct a few siege weapons that they would send to Gonurl.

31.70%
1218 Spiderlings
620 Great Spiders
110 Uruks
24 Olog-Hai

20 Catapults
5 Rams
13 Ballistae

[Maineiacs]

"My Lord," said Erkenbrand to Théodred, "this man," he indicated the frightened villager accompanying him "has something to report of the fire in the Entwood. Tell the Prince what you saw." he said to him.

"Well, my lord," began the man "my farm is only a few leagues from the forest, and on the day the fire began, I was working the fields when I heard a sound that, well, it is hard to describe: it sounded something like thunder, but more abrupt, if you follow. As I looked toward where the noise came from, I saw a ball of fire in the sky, and a cloud of smoke. I got real scared 'cause I thought it must be some sort of dark, Elven magic. But then I saw it: It was big -- real big, and flying up there in the sky. Now, I don't normally hold with children's tales and all, but I know a dragon when I see one. That's what set that fire, my Lord."

"A dragon, Erkenbrand? This nonsense is the news you bring me? This is some devilry of Saruman, I warrant. Tales say our ancestors had problems with dragons before they came to the Mark; this horn" he held it up "is said to have come from the horde of Scatha the Worm, but all reports say that the last known dragon was Smaug the Golden who was slain by the Bardings of Dale more than 75 years ago, and there were never reports of dragons this far south. Look here, Goodman," he said, turning to the farmer, "I am sorry for any damage done to your farm, and we will help those displaced as best we can, but desist with these fanciful tales. I do not want blind panic spreading among the people; times are hard enough. Now leave me."

"Yes, my Lord." said Erkenbrand, and showed the man out.

[Liecthenbourg]

Rim-Muprogit, Logath
Birds chirped merrily, the water from the nearby rivers trickled down their nature-born path soothingly, deer in the herds bent low and chewed upon the grass between the forest and the rivers and the two armies sent North by the Regency Council of Nobles had sat around the fortification built not long ago. Here, upon the green fields and brown banks of the cool river did the men of Rhun wait as they awaited the promised equipment from Rhun - mighty catapults that would be used for reasons not yet known except by the highest military officials.
As the two armies slowly organised themselves into one effective fighting force, a mighty force of Easterlings indeed, their resting and luncheon was interrupted by a third party. The 2,000 Easterling garrison for the Wooden Fortification built upon the strategic location of the meeting of the two rivers had been this third party, their officer a stern fellow who marched down the road constructed to this location and before long he had passed by the immenseness of the large Rhunic Army and garrisoned his fortress before sending out his men to begin collecting grain and other such foodstuffs from the nearby Rhunic Towns.
The Generals merely mused this circumstance, continuing to eat with their men as they awaited reinforcements. They assumed as well, that down South in the Mountains of Rhun the garrison had arrived there as well.

Barracks ordered in Logath
Barracks ordered in Mountains of Rhun

[The Starlight]

Dale

Glóin had led the 3,500 Dwarves and the 20 Catapults. The elven emissary said: "We agree to your terms, as you are our allies. You may build your barracks in Lorien and your fortress as soon as you like. Now, we march to Lorien, for its defense and the assault upon Dol Guldur. Will you join us? Our forces have obtained permission from the Elf-King to travel the Old Forest Road, and the infantry and siege weapons have already entered."

Reinforcements heading to Lorien

2,000 Infantry
1,000 Archers
500 Erebor Champions
30 Catapults

Thranduil's Halls

The elves behind the gate heard the large stones being thrown upon the gate. That itself was foolish, for there were few large enough stones in the forest. Soon enough, the throwing stopped. But pounding began. The elves assumed that was the Olog-Hai doing so. However, the gates had received thousands of years of minor enchantments upon it, so it would not break. Still behind the gate, 401 Sindar spearmen waited in position, ready to stop any charges. On their flanks were 401 Sindar Champions on the left and 401 Champions on the right. ready to flank the enemy if they passed the gates. Above, on the wide balconies, 300 Sindar Heavy Archers bent their bows, ready to fire from above. 10 Sindar Elite Guards accompanied them. On the walls, 250 Sindar Warriors, wielding bows, swords and shields awaited the oncoming spiders. As the spiders crept up the walls, the Warriors fired their arrows. The elves had also prepared for the possibility of siege weapons and there were plenty of trees to escape to.

The entrance to the river leading to Mirkwood was locked and guarded and the elves there had horns to blow. The prisons were currently empty and the rest of the elves guarded the caves. The narrow caves below the Halls were almost like levels, and a group of elves guarded them and also had horns to blow. The series of caves leading up had one entrance, through a secretly hollow tree. The tunnel led out to the surrounding forest. The caves were guarded by 50 Sindar Elite Guards, armed with all sorts of ranged and melee weapons. 50 Elven Weapon Masters guarded the throne and with them were Legolas and Thranduil ready, for battle. Above them in the balconies were 30 Sindar Marksmen.

Forces

401 Sindar Spearmen
250 Sindar Warriors
802 Sindar Champions
300 Sindar Heavy Archers
60 Sindar Elite Guards
50 Elven Weapon Masters
30 Sindar Marksmen

[G-Tech Corporation]

Limlight River, South Limlight Vale

With the enshrouding cloak of night about them, to conceal them from hostile eyes, the Orcs pushed their small boats into the river Limlight and boarded with nary a whisper. Nearly three dozen of the craft took to the river, their fronts and sides thick with animal-skin hoarding, and with strong strokes of the oars and poles of the forces of Mordor they made for the opposite bank swiftly, prepared by some of Mordor's finer engineers. Behind them on the shore the creak of bows was barely audible as the Morannon soldiers strung their bows and prepared to cover their comrades landing, and further back the crews stood ready at their catapults. To the west a large force of Orcs also began crossing at a shallow ford that the scouts had picked out, their numbers vast and their nerves on edge, ready for battle. As the boats reached out towards the far shore a great creaking of gears and whirring of ropes came through the pre-dawn air; upon lengths of iron an immense device rolled forward towards the river. Taller than four trebuchets it was, rope upon rope, pulley upon pulley. Two Olog-Hai worked to wind it with the creaking of giant windlasses, and another placed a thick block in its sling, the size of a half of a man. With terrible force it released at a cry from one of the operators, and up its load swung, gathering momentum, then launching with more power than many trebuchets. From the lines of the Orcs held in reserve near it the chant began: "Warwarg!" It rumbled in the air like thunder, the tread of doom. "Warwarg! Warwarg!" Impossibly high the bundle flew, over the burnt out regions nearest to the river, flying almost as if it never meant to come down. Somewhere near the top of its trajectory the projectile separated, shattering as a pot under a club, and the many fragments fell down into the few trees that remained to the north, bursting into gouts of consuming flame as they did so.

"Warwarg!" As tall as a tower it was, and with the straining of muscles the fell trolls began rewinding it, Warwarg, the Destroyer of Hope.

Eastern Harondor

South the legions of the Dark Tower marched, into the arid scrublands that separated Ithilien from the dry wastelands of Harad beyond. For many moons the forces of Mordor had fought alone, unaided by their allies amongst the Southrons. Only recently had word come north as to why; Chief Assar had been killed in a hunting accident, and now the factions that wished to remain neutral and those that wished to crush Gondor were in the middle of a bloody civil war. Sauron would not have this, for the reserves of manpower and the rich trading opportunities in the South would aid his war effort upon the Free Peoples immensely. So south a host of Orcs made their way along the remnants of a forgotten road, to bring those who would stand aside from the fate of Middle-Earth to heel. Their objective was Numilarth, a large encampment formerly of Chief Assar, just north of the river Harnen, near the shores of the Great Sea.

Passes of the Dead Marshes

Mahor and his band road east, after he had thanked the Orc courier who the war-band of Easterlings had come upon near the Dwimmerway. It seemed that the battle for Gondor was almost already won, and the grinding gears of the siege were all that remained to be turned. The son of Numenor in ancient times had no desire to send his friends and comrades into the slaughterhouse that the siege would become in time, and news had reached him of an opportunity beyond the Black Land, in far off Khand; one of his comrades from the skirmishing along the lines of Dorwinion in his youth was said to have risen to prominence in the land, and had need of well-armed and experienced soldiers, so Mahor had been one of the first captains of men that had leapt to mind. It would be many long weeks ere they reached the eastern land, for they would have to traverse the army-choked lands of Mordor, but Mahor was optimistic about their chances for fortune and glory in the east. His black mail clinking under his dun surcoat, the son of Mahar rode towards the Black Gate.

[Fowlick]

East of Weathertop, West of the Last Bridge
The Smokingbeard forges were at full functioning power with Darfkin and his apprentices working. Darfkin, however, was preparing for his monthly trek to Bree. He got his pony tied to the cart and his apprentices loaded the cart. He hugged his Nephews, "Now boys, you must hold the Forge at all hazards. Take care of the family." Darfkin said with a smile. He climbed onto the cart and struck the pony, starting his venture to Bree.

Goblin-Town
Kardbalik awoke from his slumber under the mountains and made his way to his workshop. On his bench were old bits of metal and wood and an assortment of tools. He had a new idea in mind of a bow that fired on its own. A type that allowed for free use of the other hand in case of melee and ranged attack was needed. He set himself to work on it, knowing that at any moment he could be called away for some business of the kingdom.

Elf Road of Mirkwood just West of the Forest River
Namredon was going on his normal rounds on the path, keeping an eye out for the spider menace that had made its way into the forest. He detested the spiders, and made it well known. Whenever he saw a spider egg or a web, he immediately took it out, keeping a wary eye out for any spiders who thought his actions terrible. He would not have them encroach on his King's lands, and he awaited a call to help take them out at their source.

[Bearon]

Brand nodded his head seriously at Gloin's request. "We must be sure to leave enough reinforcements in Dale to counter any attacks by the Rhunic hordes that lie in wait near our doorsteps. They will pounce on any sign of weakness from us my friend so I regret to inform you that I will only be able to send 500 spearmen and 500 archers with you and your main force." Brand said gesturing at a servant to relay the news to his generals and to send a commander with the force to direct the defense of the troops and the construction of a fortress and barracks in both Erebor and Lorien.

[Liecthenbourg]

Umbar

En route to Umbar, Harad.
A gentle sea breeze pushed against the Mouth of Sauron as his horse trotted across the Coastal Road that stretched as far as the Eye could see if he looked back upon that on which he had walked previously, and even if he looked forward. However, off in the distance was the imposing silhouette of the City of Umbar. Her walls white, towering peaks and gleaming port could be seen from where the Mouth was and he was impressed. This was odd, the Lieutenant of Barad-Dur was never impressed by anything, it could use more work or it could have come out better, or it could have not chewed someone's face off. But here, upon the sands of Harad and her desert road, here within a land long forgotten he had been humbled by a city in the distance, a magnificent port of old.

Snapping out of his trance, in a mix of a mental slap from Sauron and his own intentions, the Mouth flicked the reins of his steed gently with his gauntleted hands causing the beast to erupt into a graceful gallop. The horse's mighty hooves impacted upon the cobble road in a burst of sound, as no one else could be seen for quite some distance, and was a relief to hear amongst the calls of birds and the gentle swishing and swashing of the waves within a stone throws distance. For the first time in eons worth of mentioning, the Mouth was at peace with himself. He did not have to worry about the stupidity of several Orcs, matters of cataloguing or relaying the orders of Sauron for the umpteenth time in a row to the same people who did not listen the first time. He pushed back his heavy robes, the heat did not seldom bother him you see and he spurred his horse onwards. Umbar would be receiving the Voice of the Abhorred Dead, whether they wished to or not.

---

Umbar, Harad
"Halt!"

The Mouth looked upwards, noticing a helmed individually standing atop the battlements above the oaken gate, which itself was obstructed by an iron portcullis. He tilted his head at the fellow, baring his teeth suddenly before erupting into a laugh. The Lieutenant adjusted his robes slightly, before waving away an insect as he looked up at the guardsmen once more.

"Do you have any idea whom I am?" was his reply, it filled with a hint of superiority at the guard.

"No, I don't believe you're of any importance, old man" the guard retorted. "Get lost and don't come here again."

Now the Mouth was angry, he looked up once more and shouted his response. "Do you have any idea whom you are talking to, you fool?!" he slammed the staff upon the ground, creating a large image within black smoke above the Lieutenant of Barad-Dur. The image was vivid, that of a flaming red eye. It turned, staring into the very soul of the guardsmen before a booming voice came forth from the smoke.

I... SEE... YOU

The guardsmen stumbled at the sudden outburst, falling back against the back wall of his post. Slowly he got up, holding his hands up in defeat at the Diplomat of Mordor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I did not realise Mordor would send her finest emissary to Umbar." With that, the guardsmen cranked the wheel, drawing forth the portcullis. The oaken gate slowly creaked open and the Mouth looked up before he walked through towards the gigantic city.

"Yes, and I did not realise Umbar would send her dumbest guardsmen for my arrival."

[Shaggai]

Mirkwood

The spiders had died quickly. As the Elves fired downwards, several arrows struck the Olog-Hai, bouncing off of their armor, and a few wedged in the cracks. The trolls bellowed in pain, and Gonurl called them back. He didn't need to break the door just yet. He had tested their defenses, and that was enough. He sent a party of spiderlings off to the back, along with a few Uruk riders. They would sneak out of sight into the forest, then go around to the other side of the castle and attempt to climb the walls there. Meanwhile, Gonurl prepared his armies for an extended siege. They would not spread out just yet, so that the Elves would keep their attention focused on his major army.

150 Spiderlings

4850 Spiderlings (10 going around back)
750 Great Spiders
125 Uruk Riders (1 Great Spider, 1 Uruk) (3 going around back)
12 Olog-Hai

[Fowlick]

Namredon's party of 15 guards heard the cries from the King's halls and ran back, finding the forces laying siege. They stayed in the shaded trees and looked upon the spiders and uruks. They took aim and fired double arrow volleys from the treetops, quickly reloading single shots and awaiting for the reaction of the forces.

[Elerian]

~Gondor~
The Gondorians were ordered to run, and run they did. Over the plains of Pelinnor they fled to their last place of safety. As the wargs savaged the horsemen the rangers and the archers pelted them with arrows as handfuls of infantrymen ran forth to drive their spears into the enemy. Once the wars were thrown back the injured cavalrymen were brought along. To the south the Gondorian reinforcements realizing they were too late turned south to head to Pelagir. Once behind the walls of Minis Tirith the Gondorians felt safe, at least for the time being.

Denethor feared his messages had been in vain. As of yet none had come forth to save Gondor, and he feared they never would. His fear turned to rage and he cursed the name of those he had thought would help Gondor in their plight. Den ethos sank into his seat and called forth his captains to give him casualty reports. Denethor sank deeper into despair as he heard the numbers uttered from each man's mouth. It seemed, to Denethor at least, that the day was lost.

~Katla~
Katla soared high above the Grey Mountains, an ancestral breeding ground of her people. She wondered how many if her kind remained down beneath her. Katla began her descent, there was only one way to find out.

[Bearon]

~Gondor~
The Gondorians were ordered to run, and run they did. Over the plains of Pelinnor they fled to their last place of safety. As the wargs savaged the horsemen the rangers and the archers pelted them with arrows as handfuls of infantrymen ran forth to drive their spears into the enemy. Once the wars were thrown back the injured cavalrymen were brought along. To the south the Gondorian reinforcements realizing they were too late turned south to head to Pelagir. Once behind the walls of Minis Tirith the Gondorians felt safe, at least for the time being.

Denethor feared his messages had been in vain. As of yet none had come forth to save Gondor, and he feared they never would. His fear turned to rage and he cursed the name of those he had thought would help Gondor in their plight. Den ethos sank into his seat and called forth his captains to give him casualty reports. Denethor sank deeper into despair as he heard the numbers uttered from each man's mouth. It seemed, to Denethor at least, that the day was lost.

~Katla~
Katla soared high above the Grey Mountains, an ancestral breeding ground of her people. She wondered how many if her kind remained down beneath her. Katla began her descent, there was only one way to find out.

As a messenger from Dale received the message of Gondor's plight via a pigeon he ran straight to the King to deliver it. Once Brand had read the message he jumped to his feet and began issuing orders to prepare the troops. He himself would lead 3,500 spearman and 2,500 archers as reinforcements in defense of the White City the last beacon of hope for the West. Organizing his troops he sent a pigeon of his own with a message that read as follows.

"Dale stands ready to help the valiant men of Gondor fend off Sauron's advance. I myself will be leading the army that shall arrive to reinforce the White City. I pray that you can hold out until our forces arrive.

Signed Brand, Lord of Dale."

Once the message had been sent and the Brand set off with his army leaving 6,000 spearman and 4,000 archers in Dale to fend off against any attacking forces.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Isengaruk

Larthal nodded to the sergeant of the lord of the Isen, and passed on the words to his soldiers. They moved west and north of the rising fortress, and there planned their strategy; not many warriors did they have, but plenty to seize and control some of the small farming and hunting villages that owed no allegiance to any lord in these desolate wastes. After a small pallisade of sharpened logs had been erected about their encampment to act as a base of operations, the soldiers bearing the sign of the Red Eye set out west, towards the tiny herding hamlet of Lothnar.

Pelennor Fields, Gondor

With the Gondorians driven back to shelter behind their white walls, forged of the hardest stone of Numenor, the hosts of the Black Land consolidated their position. Any remnants left behind in the retreat were hunted down and slaughtered, and the fields about the city despoiled en masse and the scattered homesteads and buildings put to the torch. The Orcs and soldiers of the Eye buried their dead in cairns with honor, and cast the fallen men into mass graves, headless. Their marching companies filled the whole of the interior of the Rammas Echor, and the fields about the city sprouted with their tents and encampments like mushrooms after the rain. Many hurried off to the south, to make fast the road against any reinforcements of the southern fiefs of Gondor, and yet more marched towards the cities of Linhir and the Pelargir where their comrades waited, and throughout Lossarnach, to seize the region for Mordor. A host too made its way north, to the point where the northern road met the line of the Rammas, and there encamped in great strength. Throughout most of the day, just out of range of the few emplaced siege engines of Gondor, the Orcs were hard at work in the fields about beleagured Minas Tirith, digging trenches in their swarming black masses; as each trench was finished it was filled by some devilry with consuming flames, to prevent any sortie on the part of the defenders. And up from the east rolled as the hours passed more wains bearing soldiers and supplies, the limitless might of the Dark Tower.

---

Karthburg, Western Adorn Vale

The weight of the Orc charge pummeled against the portcullis of the gate with the force of an ocean tide, but the sturdy metal held; it was meant to resist even rams, and the mere crush of soldiers was nothing against its iron strength. With desperation the guards there began thrusting their spears through the gaps in the portcullis; small and hard to cut through, they at least had room to swing their weapons, unlike the Orcs they fought. Many of the black folk fell with holes in their bellies, but they were many, many. More guards came running up, called by the blowing of the horn and their leader's bellowing call. Above some of the archers fell, wounded and moaning, and others nervelessly, as Orc arrows found their mark; the top of the palisade gave them only a little bit of cover from the volleys of the Orcs, but the men stalwartly fired back, seeking to kill their foes. Below them in the cured timbers many arrows blazed as they embedded themselves in the wood, and a small fire began near the base of the wall.