An old kingdom come anew. These were the first battles in the campaign that was to be the baptism of fire for the fledgling-nation of Arnor, less than half a decade after its reemergence. General Araphant, a grizzled veteran from the war against the orcs to the north leads this host as they march for Isengard to eliminate the growing Uruk-hai threat.
[Short backgroundstory]
The fire popped and sizzled as the flames slowly but surely consumed the pale logs of birch, spreading a sweet and warm aroma in the air that stood in sharp contrast to the stark stone walls and sparse furnishings otherwise present. General Araphant sat in his favourite chair, idly sucking on a longstemmed pipe and going through the impressive stack of reports piled up in front of him on the only other thing in the room except his chair and himself; his desk. He did that more and more of late. Sitting that is. His years were beginning to claim their tribute, even though he fervently dismissed any such notions.
A knock on the heavy wooden door suddenly brought him out of his reports. "Come."
The large door swung soundlessly inward to reveal one of his his bodyservants, James, who gave a bow and took a step into the room.
"My Lord, I believe everything is ready for departure very soon. Reports has come in from Annúminas that the rest of the army will be waiting in Bree and join our main force there on our way south." Another thing that James was, covertly, was his head of information.
"Good, good.. We will depart as soon as possible" His voice held no enthusiams. After nearly two decades of war against the northern orcs, a war that ultimately forged the lands of Eriador together strongly enough to rekindle the realm of Arnor, he had long since passed the belief that battle held anything other than death and suffering for those involved. There was honor in defending your lands and those you love, sure, but there was definately no glory. Glory was a thing of songs and stories. The reality was something altogether different. Besides, a saddle was far less comfortable than the chair he now occupied.. Even if Fornost was a place of small comforts, at least one could find a decent place to sit. Perhaps I
am getting a bit old, he thought ruefully, but then clenched his jaw. But Saruman and his foul Uruk-hai will soon find that this old dog still has a nasty bite. He took another long draw on the pipe, and started to get ready for his departure..
The knights of Annúminas at the head of the Arnorian army, marching south as the twilight colours the cloudy sky a kings purple;
The first engagement with Isengard on a field just outside Tharbad, the warcries of the Knights echoing over the plains as they smash into the enemy;
The siege of the first major city under Isengards control. The men all sing a song of dancing with death at the top of their lungs, of knowing full well this might be their last day alive. But then again, that is true of any day;
The creak of leather and clang of metal rises as men ready themselves for the push;
Urban fighting is never pretty, and the savage hillmen fight with an otherworldly intensity, and the proud men of Arnor are engaged in a savage melee;
Eventually, all that is left of the enemy are heaps of cold dead bodies, their blood smeared over their aggressors;
(I am currently on a computer that can't show the pictures I uploaded yesterday, so I hope I attached the right ones now..)
Also, this is a short version of the story I will write on this campaign on the thread I have linked on the bottom of my sig (containing the same pictures). If you want more reading to the pictures, go there. (This one not done yet though (5/8), but there is another one that IS done) [/shameless selfpromoting]
EDIT: Oops, I accidentally missed one picture. Fixed.