Zi VodakA Larder Raided
Along the western mountain range overlooking the Isenmouthe stands the fortress of Durthang. Built by Gondor in the days of old, it stood as a guard against Darkness' return. Taken and defiled by Sauron, it is now a mockery of those early intentions. Nothing more then a marshalling ground for the armies that would wage war against the realms of Men. Its dark and foreboding towers blanketed by centuries of ash from the fumes of Mount Doom, it thrusts into the abysmal sky like the bones of the mountains. With the defeat of Sauron, the shrill cry of Nazgul from it's darkened towers is replaced by the bite of steel and howl of Orcs. War has never left this place, and within the shadowy corridors, it's inhabitants turn on each other. For Durthang is a cursed place. It's stones thirst for blood and they will not be sated.
The main keep of Durthang stands several stories high, raised up upon a mountain foundation with a narrow path winding up from the Isenmouthe plain. Catacombs and a vast tunnel network descend the mountains depth and spread throughout the mountain range with openings on either side. A semblance of order could hardly be claimed within the fortress as factions battle for control.
Claiming lordship of the Durthang is a Uruk of fierce disposition. An oddity since spawned, the Uruk Captain Gorgul was born with white skin in stark contrast with his brethren. Earning scorn in his youth, Gorgol persevered over adversity to become an especially brutal Orc, earning him fear and respect amongst his fellow Uruks. The many Morannon Orcs and
Snaga that inhabit Durthang endeavour to be free of his wrath. Those who displease him do not do so again.
It is no surprise then that panicked words of Gorgol's coming leaves the halls preceding the captain empty. The albino Orc walks with severe intent and a scowl spread across his lips. Behind him is his lieutenant, Yaz. A Black Uruk with a mane of spines he wears around his neck and shoulders, fashioned from the bones of fallen enemies. They come to a door and heave it open with such ferocity it shudders and nearly breaks into splinters.
Inside the chamber bodies lay strewn about and splatters of black blood decorate the walls in grisly fashion. Cracked urns and broken crates litter the room, and once there were supplies was now death. A small group of snaga sifted through the dead and debris, shrieking and scattering from Gorgol's entry. A squat Morgul Orc with cruel slanted eyes watched over the goblin slaves. He lowered his ears and whined through his tusks as his captain entered.
"Arms-master!" Barked Gorgol as he stroke into the room. "Report!"
The Morgul Orc kept his gaze to the floor as he turned to face the Uruk captain. "A raid, Captain. The swine left nothing."
Gorgol narrowed his eyes at the lesser Orc. Yaz stepped into the room, his keen eyes looking around as he ventured deeper, the snaga giving him a wide berth. "Who?" Gorgol asked the arms-master.
"I do not know, Captain." Whined the orc. "I'll find them and gut them!"
Gorgol back handed the Orc with fearsome strength, knocking him the ground. Gripping his face and leaning down toward him the captain growled, "I'll gut you! What hole did you hide during the attack?! Why do you breath
my air while they lie dead?" Gorgol pointed to the dead strewn about the chamber.
"I was patrolling, Captain. I have three larder's under my command, I cannot be everywhere at once!"
Gorgol released him with a sneer, turning toward his lieutenant. "Yaz?"
"This wasn't the work of the Hasharin." Said Yaz, leaning over a dead Orc. "Not a spec of mans-blood. I don't recognize this lot."
"They're not of my charge!" Pleaded the arm-master, hoping any help he could give would spare his life.
"This is Ufthak's work." Yaz concluded. "The Hasharin would not attack such a fortified position, the coward."
"I will skin his hide!" Gorlog growled, clenching his fist.
"Shall I prepare an attack?" Yaz questioned.
"I will not send another blind charge into those forsaken tunnels. Get a scouting party together. You lead them. Return with were Ufthak cowers or do not come back at all."
Yaz grunted an affirmation before looking at the trembling Morgul rat. "And him?"
"This is the third storeroom they hit in as many weeks. The band has grown complacent. They need a reminder of what should happen if they fail me. Take him to Bolg." The Uruk lieutenant seized the underling's ankle, and dragged the shrieking failure away to meet his fate at the hands of the marauding demi-troll.