[UPD 30 OCT 15] Preview: Faction and Unit Descriptions
Here is a long awaited preview of some texts from the game:
First here are two full Faction Introductions (created by Cshewey):
The Elven Kingdom of Lindon
Ah, the sea, do you hear it calling? Nay? Hark, it calls us to thither Shore, undying lands of a far green country, where death and struggle no more reign, where shadow and fire n'er destroy that which is sacred. Such a deep blue, the Sea leads us to those Towers of Pearl, Havens unlooked-for in our greatest need! These shores are our dwelling, but the Sea calls us home. Yet homeward journey must oft be delayed. The light of the Eldar is fading, and amid the vast world our beacons of hope have been extinguished, for one by one the great Elven-kingdoms have fallen, and now our people abandon these shores for the Undying Lands. And with each Elf that departs it is as one star fading from the night sky, until all is black, endless night. But the night of Arda is not so dark as one may suppose, for what a treasure we have at night. Starlight, true and beautiful it illuminates the vast regions of heaven. Even so are the Eldar ... or so were. We were once the jewel of Ilúvatar, the mighty Firstborn, and throughout all the ages of the world our immortal blood has been spilled in the defense against Morgoth and his Shadow. But even now as we stars fade from the weavings of Fate, the Dark Lord knows that the Eldar are yet unconquered. But who will oppose him, if all the world is covered in Shadow? The Great Kingdom of Lindon is all but abandoned in the far north, and while not extinct we are few. Rivendell is but a memory of the mighty Eregion of old, and is now become an island amidst a sea of foes. Lothlórien is hidden from mortal sight, and the Elves of the Wood are fleeing into the far north as their lands little by little fall to the malice of the Shadow, for there are none now with the strength to repel it. We Elves are but a memory of ages long forgotten. But perhaps there is strength in memory, in the recalling of deeds of valor, and great feats of courage. Perhaps even now the might and will of those who performed such deeds may be rekindled anew within our hearts. For we Elves do remember, we remember much, yea much more than all other creatures of Ilúvatar, for we never forget. We Eldest remember even the fall of Angband, and the demise of Morgoth. But always the Shadow endures, and takes new shape. For in the Second Age we threw down the towers of Sauron, dark servant of Morgoth, but they are raised anew, larger and greater than before. Too great were our losses in the Wars of the Last Alliance, and few now remain upon this Hither Shore, mourning the lost glory of the Elder Days. Yet such lamentation must be no more, if there is to be hope, and hymns of battles long forgotten heard as a new battle cry, heralding the coming of our host. While few, we are not all lost, and as it is said: "Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.” And indeed though all seems forlorn, a Light may be rekindled in the eyes of the Eldar and a fire awaken in our hearts that no Shadow can quench. May the Flame of Anor and the Light of Elbereth aid us, blazing brightly in opposition to the Darkness. And let the Dark Lord know this, that as long as the Valar are enthroned in the West, though he subdue all other peoples and cover all the world in ice and fire, we will never flee from battle, nor cower upon distant shores till all is lost. If he seeks the shores of this Middle-earth he shall have to pass through the hosts of the Elves, and face all the strength that remains to us! Once more shall the horn of Tulkas be heard echoing in the cries of our warriors in battle, and the bows of Oromë be heard singing in the release of the bowstring. Sails like to the sails of Ulmo shall be unveiled upon our vessels, and our crests emblazoned upon shields like to those of Aulë! All this shall the Dark Lord behold as the great and terrible Firstborn, veterans of countless wars, march in hardened resistance to his will. Mighty swords like to those of Gondolin shall be drawn again for the slaying of his legions, and all our will shall be bent against the Dark Tower! Of a truth all we Elves of Lindon would die a thousand times to the cruel iron of Mordor, and see our last immortal breath fade from our bodies before we abandon these lands to the Shadow! Now arise, arise in these last days, ye mighty of the Firstborn, to death and slaughter! May the Light of your eyes awaken once again, and may the embers of your Inner Fire be kindled to a new flame! The Darkness shall feel afresh one last time in these days the Light of Anor and of Elbereth, and we shall see if it is able to endure! Lead on my Captain and we shall follow! Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar!"
The Kingdom of Rohan
Dark have been the days of late, as though the very light of the sun is gone from the lands of Rohan. Were now is the thundering of the Eoreds, or the horns of the Marshals? They have passed, passed away the the Eastern sun decends the horizon on the western sunset. Our hope is fading as the sky grows dark, but great burden still rests upon our shoulders, Of all the free men of Middle-earth Rohan must perhaps bear the greatest of the Enemies designs. Our men are valiant and have no fear of death, for the lust of battle and brave deeds fills their hearts as they endeavor ever to attain to the glory of their fathers. Yet even in the lands of such heroic men the Shadow has ever crept.
With the death of Thengel and the treachery of Isengard the mind of King Théoden has grown dark, and his will to resist the power of the Black Land diminishes. Yet not all hope is lost in the realm of the Horse Lords, for the people of Rohan are still loyal to their King, and will never cease to ride in defense of the Mark. Our people are fighters and generations of warfare have bred here perhaps the best horsemen to be found in Middle-earth. The mighty Éoreds of Rohan are second to none. Their charge is as the rolling of thunder and their swords are as the glittering of stars. The brave men of the Mark have no fear of the Shadow, only a deep and vengeful hatred. To some their bravery is but ignorance, but a free people who dare to resist his dominion is ever a threat in the mind of the Dark Lord.
As such he has sent his new puppet Saruman to deal with the knights of Rohan. And we now faces war on three fronts. From the Northwest, hordes of wild men descend through the plain. From the North battalions of armored Uruk-hai prepare for war. In the East legions of Orcs and evil Men are ever mustering. And as the King's will dissolves and the thundering of the Éoreds cease, the men of Rohan must look to a new captain to hold afresh the banner of the King in defiance of the Shadow. He will need courage, courage that no raider or pillager can abase, courage no army of Uruk-hai bent on destruction can waver, courage not even the Dark Lord could break! Is there yet a captain within the realm of the Horse Lords with such courage? Is their one who will carry the banner of the King? For this task falls now to you, will you ride in defense of the Mark, ere the world falls into Shadow? Or will you fade away like lesser men, bereft of courage, ever wondering what might have been if you had arisen and stood fast? The choice is yours: the hour has come to make your decision. The Men of Rohan are calling, will you answer?
Now to the saddle ye men of the North, through days of darkness and hosts of foes! To untold perils and the blood of slaughter! Now as the peals of thunder let our gallops be heard, dashing across the western sky, filled with such glory as to make the bards tell of our deeds a thousand years! For verily if all men be dead, and brave deeds fall short of victory, then shall the skies proclaim the wonder of our deeds, and the plains echo with the shouts of our Riders! Now to battle sons of the Mark, though dawn never again crest the eastern sky, yet once more shall the ride of the Rohirrim stay the hearts of foes! Perils abide, yet glory awaits, now ride, ride to new feats, feats surpassing the glory and valor of our fathers! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!
Arnor
Mighty Dunedain, nay, rangers we are called by other folk, we who are kings, and heirs to the thrones of Men. We who were once revered by all are now vagabonds and outlaws in the northern wastes. The men of Arnor are now but a remnant, scattered and forgotten. Our once proud citadels, full of laughter and light, are now laid low, barren and cold. Our people were driven from their homes into the wild, alone and hunted, with but a few to protect them. But we Rangers are no mere rabble of villagers, nay there is a pride here that while veiled in cloaks of green can yet be felt in the keen gaze of the Lords of the West. These are the heirs of Númenor, descendants of the Kings of old and wielders of a power that to most is but a memory. We Rangers of northern lands, though known only in songs little-remembered, are in truth high men of Númenor, blessed by the Valar with long life and prowess beyond that of normal Men. We wandering heroes protect the northern lands with all the strength that yet remains to us, thankless and forgotten though we be. But while our name is forgotten there is still much for us to do. Gondor is weak and has no King upon it's throne, and there is only one who could lay claim its : Our chieftain Aragorn, the Elessar, Heir of Elendil. If Gondor is to prevail, the King must return, rising to the throne of his birth through many shadows. Yet we must also look to our own peril, for these northern lands face great evil as well, for while Elven-rangers from Rivendell protect them from the West, Orcs of the old Kingdom of Angmar and the mountain of Gundabad pillage and burn wherever they will. These lands must be defended, and the Dúnedain alone of Men yet have strength enough to challenge them.
Men are surrounded on all fronts, Gondor by Mordor to the West, Rhun to the North, and Harad to the South. Rohan, by Isengard and Dunland to the North, and Mordor and Rhun to the East. Men need a King to follow, and Aragorn alone could claim that Throne, yet our armies also need a Captain, one who will restore the glory of the Kingdom of Arnor of old. The sword of Elendil has been reforged, the banner of Elessar has been unveiled, and the Dúnedain are coming forth! Hope and courage is yet to be found in the Men of the West, for you are their Captain. While your forces are small they wield great strength and will not fail in their endeavors. Lead them now to victory! For the world of Men is overcome with Shadow, and terror stalks all the lands. But now as the Dúnedain come out of the shadows and reveal their true strength, the old saying shall once again be found true: "A light from the shadows shall spring".
But alas that these dark days should be ours, yet now as the hour requires, may our forces be as light erupting from the shadow, as though the full western sun were to rise in the very heart of Mordor! Let those who were once veiled shine forth in might and splendor! Elendil, Elendil, give us strength, strength to face dark days, and many foes! To war Men of the North, do you not heed the call of the trumpets? Verily I hear them upon the great northern wind, calling all who would see old glories renewed! Light, light from the shadows shall be, if only you shall march with me. Oh ye brave and gallant Dúnedain, South, South, to fire and flame! Can you not see it now, the Seven Stars shining upon the banner of Elendil? Oh how it rekindles the fire in my heart! Brethren of the North, now and now alone in the depths of Night is our hour, the hour we shall make our final march. For only at the end of Night shall the world come to a new Sunrise! Lead our forces onward, into Darkness, for how shall Light be seen if it not be in the midst Darkness? Now march, march for the Dúnedain, for the North, for all free men. And at the last...for the King!
The Wild Men of Dunland
These are our lands, we hunt the deer, herd the cattle and till the earth. Here our ancestors settled, and built towns and villages throughout the lands and surrounding the river. We hear the sundering of the Isen through the tough ground, and our children play in the tall grass...these are our lands! But many years ago we were driven far to the north and herded into the northern corner of our home. The accused horse men of Rohan, these are our killers, usurpers and murders all. With their linked steel, and mighty horses they oppress our people, but no longer! We have risen greatly, our people have grown, and we have long prepared for our attack.
Our warriors are mustering across the plain, raiders and axemen gathering proudly to fight for their families. But our foes are many, we wild men are divided, and hated across the lands. The men of Rhudar and of the Anduin have forgotten our kinship of old, they look now only to their own, and have forgotten their brothers. But we must still fight, Rohan is weak, and will be busy with the orcs of Isengard, while their armies fight, we will take back our homes! For these are our lands!
The wizard Saruman has pledged his support to us and together we will drive away the terrible horsemen. Our warriors are brave and strong and will not quickly flee from their riders. While we are poorly armed and unorganized, a true hero could lead us to victory beyond our wildest dreams. Our grandfathers wished for freedom, our fathers have begged for liberty, and our children plead for hope. We will no longer stand idle, no longer will we live oppressed, in these harsh lands, we will have the green fields and plains that belonged to our ancestors once again! Our children will not be hungry, and our wives will no longer fear. Now as a united people we will drive the Rohirrim back across the Anduin from whence they came. We will have peace, we will have prosperity, we will have hope when Rohan is in flames! We will live here, and our children will live here, a mighty people for a thousand generations...for these are our lands!
The Dominion of Isengard
Orthanc and Barad Dur, the Union of the Two Towers, who now has strength to oppose them? Fools! They do not understand that to fight against the Power in the East is vanity. Elves are fading into the past, dwarves will remain in their mountains, and men, men have no strength left to fight.They are divided and leaderless, their armies will be but petty squabbles against the Black Legion. Against his might there can be no victory, we must join with Sauron.
Long have i forseen this doom in the high tower at the foot of the Isen, long has he disguised himself, only now to appear in full strength. The eastern sky has grown dark, Mordor is rising, fumes rise from pits as he forges new legions. Black Uruks, they are stronger then the orcs of the old Mordor, and he will cover the sky with his shadow to ease their passing under the sun. In Gondor, the Tower of the Moon and the Dome of Stars have both been desolated, how long do they think they have before Ectheleon's Tower to will fall, and his White Tree burn?
I have seen much in the Palantir, he will strike hard against Gondor and break it apart from three fronts. The corsairs from the sea, the Haradrim from the south and his own legions from the east. If any help were to come to Gondor it would be from Rohan, but no help will come. For long have the fires of industry been burning inside Isengard, our army is ready. The once weak and frail uruks of Mordor now perfected into my fighting Uruk-Hai. They are bread for one purpose, to destroy the armies and lands of the horse lords. They have no fear of daylight and wield a ferocity yet unknown to men. Theoden, King of Rohan, is an old man and Grimma my servant has already begun to poison his mind, he will not lead his people to the aid of their friends. Even if their armies marched to Gondor he will have no people to lead, the Dunlendings are raiding, burning farms and vilages, and now, our Uruk-Hai will march upon Edoras and the Hornburg. When Rohan is crushed, Gondor will fall. Our wargs and pikes will be quite the match for their horsemen, and the armor of the Uruk-Hai is thicker then that of any hauberk of Rohan. Our forces are prepared,the world of men will burn!
But in the end Sauron will need the Ring of power to finalize his dominion over Middle Earth. If he seeks to be god and king over this world, he must have total control, the One Ring, isildur's Bane is ever calling him...Find it! For if the Ring comes to Orthanc, it will not be Sauron that rules Arda, but Saruman, the Wizard of many Colors! And at last i will set this land as it should have been from the foundation. Where the wise rule over the foolish, and the petty pay tribute to the great. The Ring of Power must be found, but not by him. It is rumored to be carried by a halfling, if you should find any, bring them to me and you will be greatly rewarded. For now the Two Towers are at Union, but there can be only one, Lord of the Ring!
The Blessed Realm of Lothlorien
Ah, the Golden Mallorn, symbol of elven freedom, and power. Ancient as the days are old, strong as the foundations of the mountains, and graceful as the fairest of the firstborn. As the Mallorn are, so are we elves of Lorien. Great magic and power dwell in the lands of Nimrodel, Cerin Amorth and Caras Galadhon. It is kept un-corrupted by the ring of power, Nenya, still adorned on the finger of the Lady of Lorien. The rivers and streams still run with a quiet, peaceful enchantment, the trees yet blossom wisdom, and the flowers splendor. The air dances gently to the music of the elder songs, hymns of light and joy of times long forgotten. Here is the heart of elven-dom in Arda, here is the Haven of the Lord and Lady.
Though light is yet to be found in Lorien, we are but a shadow of the past. We cling with all our might to what little light we have left, and the shadow ever tightens it's noose. We have not the strength to go outside of our borders. Haldir and his wardens protect our lands, but outside, the hills and valleys are festered with orcs. To the west is the abandoned city of Khazad-Dum, Moria, now the cavern and den of goblins. To the east is Dul Guldur, our once beloved Amon Lanc, now raveged by trolls and dark sorcerers.
Though we yet have a refuge, a small haven from the wars and fires around us, we cannot conceal it forever. One of the three will not keep out the ruler of the nine, much less the One. The light of the Mallorn is dwindling, but it has not yet faded.
Within the forest one can yet see companies of elven bowmen, the finest in Arda still marching through our lands, on errand from the Lady to mount the defense of the border. We have the strength to resist Sauron for a time. But in the end, in the passing of years, we will fade. Though we may forbear him, we could never assail him, To him we are but a wild beast, ready to be hunted, and then destroyed.
In loom of this fate we are left with a choice, leave middle earth, sail to the undying lands, ever to ponder the fate of these shores; or to give our last efforts, the hindmost blood of the firstborn in forlorn resistance. All our strength hurled against his gates in the embodiment of glory, to wit, the finest hour of the elves, this side the Sundering Sea! For though it be our last hour, by Elbereth it shall also be our finest! May the stars be a light above us, eternal illumination guiding the bows of the Galadhrim! May the strength of the Valar be upon our courageous warriors! May the blessings of the Lord and Lady, be a shield to all sons of the Mallorn! And by Eru Illuvatar himself, may the ring of Adamant, and the blood of our kindred yet save our beloved Home!
The Black Lord of Mordor
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Shadow, deep, and dark, endless night, without the light of stars. all shall fade into darkness, and our rule will be total! The age of men is over...the time of the orc has begun. Feeble rebellion against the Dark Lord will not be tolerated. His power will reach from the vast eastern deserts to the havens of the accursed elf folk. None can abide his will, his legions will sweep across the land, all shall bow and despair. Shadow and unending night, a red sun with no dawn, an unending rule of total power, unchangeable.
The once wretched orc are now bread as tall and strong uruks. The Black Legions now have no fear of dawn, the accursed elves are wise enough to flee to their lands far across the sea, but men and dwarves will not be so fortunate. The master breeds all manor of fell creatures in the dungeons of Barad Dur, terrible and great Olag-Hai, wargs and other more dreaded servants of darkness. Legions of Southrons and Easterlings, loyal to the Black Tower pour in every hour. Our full strength will now be unleashed against the weak king-less land of Gondor, it was once great but now crumbles, eroded by shadows. What help does it have?
Our corsairs from Umbar will pillage and burn the haven of Amroth, Saruman and his Uruk-Hai will destroy the Rohirrim, and the Easterling hordes together with our forces in Dul Guldur, will destroy any help that may come from the North. Men are surrounded, outnumbered and overrun...THEIR WORLD WILL BURN, AND ALL LANDS WILL FALL INTO SHADOW.
But there is one flaw yet in our great scheme, we yet lack the One, the Ring of Power. It must be found at all cost, with it all resistance will be vanity. But it yet escapes our spies, and the Great Eye is always searching for it, it haunts him, and he will never be rid of his need for it. Also there is word of an heir of Isildur, the man who first bereaved our lord of his Ring. This heir is said to dwell somewhere in the north, where his men waylay our warriors in Angmar. This -as will all other light- must be extinguished. Our Master is great and he will suffer no rival. Yet great is the reward of his servants. Accomplish his will and when all the men are dead you will have your share of the plunder.
The Black Land is mustering, he is sending forth the clouds of war to ease our passing across the river, there is a new craving for man flesh in the Lands of Mordor! Our lord beckons, the hour is at hand! Now send forth the legions, and cover all lands in a second and total darkness! If you do well, you will be ruler of a thousand cities, second only to Sauron the Great!
The Free Peoples of the Shire and Breeland
Ah the Shire, good tilled earth, a prosperous green country as far as the eye can see. A free land where you see your children playing in the fields, your wife smiling as evening supper is nearly on the table. When harvest comes, you eat of your own field, and taste joyfully of the strawberries and cream. Where there is time for birthday parties and fireworks, without the slightest concern for armies of goblins or dragons; where swords belong on the wall, not at your waste, and horses are burdened with plows, not warriors. Where adventures are for the big folk, they make you late, and you come home with mud in your shoes, messy things, adventures. No, in the Shire, when you awake in the cool morning, you see the blooming flowers outside of your window, sparkling as the rising sun reflects off the petals of purple and scarlet. After a good breakfast and perhaps, even a second, you walk down to the market where you hear the tales of far beyond, and you return with the finest catch of the day. You spend the afternoon gardening, or cutting wood, planting or writing, whatever suits your fancy. And when you are hot and tired, you run down in your bare feet across the smooth grass to the flowing streams, to wash the hot sun off of your face. And when that sun sets after a long joyful day you sit at the table surrounded by your family and warmed by the good hearth. At the fall of night, you wander out to the porch to have a good smoke, poring over the day with pipe-weed and friends. And the last thing you see as you drift off into a deep comfortable sleep is the final dance of the stars, whose melody rocks you to your slumber. And so we have lived, as long as i can remember. but no more.
If you travel outside of the Shire, you will quickly begin to hear rumors, dark tales of great perils far away. But also, you will hear of the growing shadow, the darkness that creeps ever closer to our homes. The Goblins are growing bolder they say, coming down from the mountains raiding merchant trains and villagers. Men of Rhudar and Dunland have grown increasingly hostile to our people, there are stories that even some outlying villages have been raided! Our peace and freedom is vanishing before our eyes! But it is not so close as to alert our people, they remain still asleep, not for ignorance, as we have all heard the tales, but for denial. The thought that their world could be turned from emerald meadows of sparkling flowers into a battlefield of fire and swords,may never cross their simple minds, no matter what the occasion. They are willingly blind, as an ostrich with it's head buried in the ground, it ignores the turns and spirals of the world, and waits for others to well, fix things.
Thankfully they are not all this way, many Sheriffs of both the Shire and Bree have been increasing their watch, training new recruits, but they are not soldiers or warriors. Indeed we have few of those, very few. But we hobbits have some strength, we can move silently if we wish, and remain unseen in many terrains. The men of Bree are lumbermen and hunters, and can handle well both the axe and the bow. But our greatest hope are our friends, the Dunedain, these rangers at least for now keep the darkness at bay. But we cannot rely on them, not forever.
While Arnor was destroyed they left us many cashes of arms and armor, though they remain unused to this day, they were perhaps left for just such a time. indeed the time has come, to beat our plowshares into swords, and our pruning hooks into spears. It is time for the men to become soldiers once again! To leave the fruitful field for the field of battle, and the work horse for the war horse. Yes let the lands of the free people muster, we too will fight, we to will resist the shadow. Though we may not have the strength of kings or elf lords. a hobbit has just the cause to fight for his home as does any elf or man! Perhaps it is time we pay the price of our long held freedom. Truly the night has come, and we will go forth to meet it. For this, this is the hour for the men to put the women and children to bed, and FIGHT OFF THE WOLVES!
Dwarves of Ered Luin
Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains, safe haven of the dwarven clans. Our lords dwell here in their castles of stone, they trade, their merchants pepper the land. They build, ever expanding their mines and holds, and they prepare, prepare for the dark days ahead. Our people are strong and we are well entrenched in the Blue Mountains. We have friends, the Elves of the Havens share much trade with us and for the better part we are friends. Breeland and other Free peoples in Eriador buy our goods and send provisions and trade through our mountains. We have much to protect here, within these mountains are many sacred depths of the dwarves. Among these Belegost and the Halls of Thorin. Unlike our kin in the east, we are not so few in number. Our cities are not empty and our people thrive. But we wonder if even these ancient mountains will withstand the shadow to come. Ancient walls and hidden doors will only avail us for so long.
Goblins lie in these mountains, and orcs raid these hills when unchallenged. War will come to Ered Luin and we must be ready. Our people are no strangers to war, we have fought many, and know how to defend our homes. But we have little to spare, we have just the strength to defend our halls, we could not risk venturing out of our mountains in any great force. At least, not yet, we must still grow. For while our coffers overflow, our barracks are seldom used. But perhaps for now in the northwest we can prosper and bulster our arms so that when the times comes we will be ready.
The task has fallen to you, ready our armies, bolster our coffers and make ready to withstand the storm! For gold will not appease His lust for power, nor gems his greed for lordship. But one thing may yet cause him worry; the mighty axes of the dwarves! Let his army come and taste freshly iron of the dwarves, crafted in the halls of our forefathers, wielded by the great sons of Durin! For we are Durin's sons, and Durin's sons do not flee from a fight! Goblin and orc, troll and Witch King alike, ought twice to check their fortitude, for i say that no shadow will shield them strong enough, nor curse of malice protect them, ere they try to remove a dwarf from his mountain! Let them come, for the Sons of Durin will be ready, to meet them with axe and shield, and to cleanse forever the Blue Mountains of Durin's folk!
The Dwarves of the Iron Hills
The Iron Hills, dwarvish kin of the Lonely Mountain. Here dwell many of the sons of Durin within the deep halls and cavers of the Hills. Here we are strong and fortified, strengthened by the bulwarks and fortresses hewn from the rock by our mighty forefathers, which the crafted in defense of the growing shadow. In the East armies of Easterlings have long sought our lands, they are only now waylaid by our courage and the strong iron of the dwaves! In the Southwest lies Dul Guldur, the black hill of sorcery, their filthy orcs and troll have had their eyes on these mountains for too long. Though we be surrounded, we are not without friends.
To the West stands the Lonely Mountain the jewel kingdom of the dwarves and all its inhabitants are our greatest friends. We also have allies to the south, with the Orocarni and the men of Dorwinion, perhaps together we can withstand the onslaught of the East. Our warriors are great, cheifest of whom are the Iron Guard, mighty and strong dwarf warriors that protect our homes. But will they be enough, enough to confront the orcs, and men, trolls and perhaps even dragons that would see these lands destroyed? I fear that we are strong, but not strong enough. But by Durins beard my axe will feast on orc flesh till it be rent ere one of those fell creatures steps foot within these halls!
For long have we hated orcs, and we dwarves do not forget, nor forgive. For ages have we done battle with the spawn of Melkor, and Sauron's servants, and ever we withstand them. By our courage and skill are the halls of our fathers kept safe and the homes of our clansmen left at peace. When the darkness comes again , it will have to bear the weight of Durin's hammers and the bite of Dain's axes if he would see these mountains fall! Our cities are deep, our walls high and we will not be easily moved or dismayed. Now as the shadow looms and the sun sets behind the hills we bid; to battle, to battle sons of Durin!
The Dwarves of Erebor
Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, greatest of dwarf realms in the Third Age. It's solitary peak stands alone in the plains of Rhovanion, just outside the borders of Mirkwood. Here dwelled many of our forefathers, We dwarves are strong, as the roots of the mountain. The winds may blow and all the earth quake and tremor but the mountain shall always stand. So are the sons of Durin, strong as the mountain. We will endure. The dwarves owe no allegiance to Elves or Dark lords, we are free and care for our own. Erebor is the jewel of Dwarves, its great halls are filled with riches, and arms. It stands tall among the wilderness of Rhovanion, a challenge to all who would oppose. Our people are strong, our armor is the finest in Middle Earth, our craftsmanship unopposed, except perhaps by the elves. But even them we surpass in the making of jewels and metal. Our trade runs across the mountains, from the Sea of Rhun, to the Havens of Lindon; our coffers overflow, our people are strong.
Yet we are not without dark times; our wealth is the envy of all people but especially the envy of Sauron. Ever since we drove the Dragon from Erebor he has coveted our riches and arms that would fuel his conquest across the world. Yet he fears dwarvish Iron, our warriors are great and skillful and it would take a true horde indeed to drive a dwarf from his mountain, he would be foolish to meet us here, in our towering fortress. But not all dwarf lands are as such, Khazad-Dum, Moria has been overrun by goblins, many of our mountain halls along the north are all but abandoned, and as such they are ripe for the plunder of orcs. But as our strength grows we will look to reclaim and refortify our long forgotten halls, the sons of Durin are not as weak as Sauron thinks. Long has he been our foe, and long have we opposed him. Our furnaces will be reignited with the fires of war, our armies will march to meet him in battle, and overthrow the Dark Tower itself; Dwarvish halls will spread the breath of Middle Earth! But alas it is all but folly. Our people are too few now to march openly against him.
But perhaps with a true bearded son of Durin in command, our armies could withstand these days ahead, and carve a new future for our people. But the Darkness will come, and when it does it will strike hard at Erebor and few would hope to stand in the day of his wrath. He will come with orcs, and trolls and Southrons and cruel men of the east, and perhaps even the Dragons will assail us with him. We are overrun by orcs and goblins and dark lords, and shadow seems to be all that is foreseen...but our people are strong, strong as the roots of the mountain. The wind may blow and the earth quake, even the Anduin overflow, but yet our people as the mountain will stand. And though all his strength may assail us, he will see true sons of Durin, with axe in hand and battle cry in the air! Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu! And he will come to see, that Durin's folk above all others, are STRONG, STRONG AS THE MOUNTAIN!
Orcs of Gundabad
'Far in the north, over passes high, through barren wastelands, dungeons deep and tunnels long, there lies our mountain. Gundabad, OUR mountain. This place is old. Ever was there a sleepless malice, a shadow in the dark that did not rest. Always has there been movement: things did not cease to creep there in darkness, left alone, unchecked. Schemes, under the rooftops of the mountain, hidden from sight, down deep in a labyrinth of tunnels. And never ceased this place to be one of fear, of torment and death. The spirit of old Angmar lingers here, and cannot be driven out. The lands here, are haunted, and they will ever be. Full of darkness and hatred, far older than anywhere in this world, even older than in the land of the Great Eye. No, we are the oldest, the greatest and bloodiest of them all. No one has command of this mountain, no one! We control it! But still, in silence. In the dark, we wait for out time to come again.
Not always, have we remained silent and obscure. Not always, have we held back ourselves under the ceiling of this mountain where no one could find us nor end us. Oh yes, we recall the capture of this place from the stinking dwarves! We recall the great realm of ancient Angmar, we recall the conquest over the accursed Dúnedain from the west, the onslaught within their cities, the looting of their homes, when we slaughtered their people, scoured their fertile lands and burned every village: oh yes, we recall! What great days it were, when we would torture their captivates: we have not had greater amusement ever since, nor fresher meat than in those days. Men flesh is far better than a snaga for supper!
But those days were ended. Elves and men came, curse them! Their ranks were filled anew, and we were scattered and defeated. Dwarves showed up again too, with their beards, messing up our plans and wipe out almost all of us and the mountain folk, our kin. We were driven back into our deep tunnels, and there, we waited. We dwelled there, we lingered in the shadow. We did not enter open war, but stalked farms and settlements, and all who would pass here, would never see the light again. That is our way: dark, yet ruthless.
But now, the eye has returned. We felt it: it awoke the fire in us again, it filled us with hate anew. In the dark, we have grown great again, we multiplied, we mustered, we set our forges back into work to make iron into weapon. And soon, our swords will once again slice a thousand necks. Men, elves, dwarves, this will be your tomb! You’ll see: this hour, once again, black legions of orc, troll and every foul beast of evil from the deeps of this earth, will be unchained! Our chiefs will take up the whip again and drive forth the great machine of war, the hammer of the troll, the fist of the orc! Our evil arm will stretch from the north, and spread the darkness over the lands once again. All will fall before us! None will oppose us! Enemies of the One, we’ll slaughter you, pile up your corpses, throw them from the cliffs! We will enslave you for our amusement, and there will be nothing you can do!
All will die! All hope shall fade! Resistance will be in vain! By our hand, it will be done: march, you maggots!'
The Kingdom of Dale
We are the men of Dale, slayers of Dragons, Marshalls of the North, friends of Dwarves and Elves. We have recaptured Dale from the clutches of Smaug the Golden, and rebuilt our ancient cities, now our trade lines prosper once again. Wine comes up the River from the men of Dorwinion, our merchants traffic this to the Halls of the Woodland King, and the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. Often our Merchants travel by the great Western road, over the Misty Mountains and into Eriador. We are known far and wide as good and fair traders, our reputation fills our coffers. But as we rebuild our old lives, the Shadow creeps in once more.
Though we were victorious in the Battle of the Five Armies, we are yet surrounded. The Easterlings are our chief foe, they lie to the south east, ever watching our lands and scheming. The Orcs of Dul Guldur are encamped in their fortress to our west, and other more foul creatures have been seen near our borders. But we are not abandoned, we have many strong friends abiding in Rhovanion. The Dwarves of Erebor are our greatest friends, we share much; trade, weapons, maps, and in times of war we will fight for each other. The Elves of Mirkwood, while strange and mysterious folk are our friends as well. Their rangers often keep the creatures of Mirkwood from entering our lands. Also the Court of Dorwinion lies to our south, they are good and noble men, and perhaps the richest as well. Yet it seems the enemy has no fear of these. In the end the Dwarves will stay in their mountain, the Elves will stay in their beloved forest and the men of Dorwinion will continue to abide in secrecy along the shores of the Rhunic Sea. We however have no mountains or forests to hide in. Trade roads, outposts, towns and cities are scattered throughout our lands, and all the eyes of the enemy are on our wealth. Both our people and our trade must be protected.
in Dale our finest weapon is the longbow, we are masters of its art and deadly accurate, our archers will be the key tool we can provide in the upcoming war. Also we have many fine spear-men, and others armed with weapons from our dwarvish friends. But we are untrained, and largely undisciplined, after Dale and Esgaroth burned many of our barracks and armories were burnt, and our troops must be retrained and re positioned. We are valiant Edain, -Northmen as it were- and will not easily be frightened by shadow or sword. But the time of war will come and Dale must be ready, ready to fight, ready to hold. We have forts and towns along the River Running to aid in the defense of an attack from the south. Dale has many high towers and strong walls, and there are but 4 bridges into Esgaroth. An attack from land would be a hard campaign for the enemy. But he has the men to do it. We have barely the strength to hold our forts and towns, much less an army to meet him in the field. The overflowing of our coffers is worthless if not protected.
Dale is the gateway to Mirkwood, and if we are overrun, our friends will be surrounded and slain. We can no longer trust in the strength of our friends, but must look within for the strength to fight. Rhovanion will soon be flooded with tides of evil men and orcs, burning and pillaging as the go. Now more then ever we need a captain, on like Bard, who, when the Dragon comes he will not run in fear, or be dismayed by the fire, but will take up his bow in defense of his Kingdom and slay the fell beast! You now are the captain of Dale, and when the Dragon of war comes...you must slay it.
Next two full Unit Descriptions:
Glorfindel's Knights
Imladris Nobles
Some Dwarven Unit description Previews to prelude the soon to come dwarf previews
Son's of the Mountain
"Son's of the Mountain"
"As Iron hewn from the walls of the hills so are foes dispatched by the mighty Son's of the Mountain"
Hardiest of Dwarf-folk the and guard to the King of the Hills are the Son's of the Mountain. Elders and nobles in the dwarven clans, they are strong, tough and above all stubborn. Their ornately crafted and thick dwarven armor is accompanied by crushing mattocks, the choice weapon of Dain's folk. They charge heroically and fiercely into battle, grinding the enemy with no less ease then the quarries of stone within the mountains. All of Durin's folk look to these great kinsmen for leadership and guidance in times of hardship and struggle.
Abilities: Inspire, Unbreakable, Frenzied Charge
Dwarven Legion
Dwarven Legion
"When Dain's folk go to war the Dwarven Leigion are the first to fight"
Hardy dwarf folk are these, fully armed and filthy! Long beards, keen axes and strong armor comprise the legions of the dwarves. They are stubborn and will seldom flee, they are tough and will seldom tire and they are dwarves, and so will seldom fail.
Abilities: Shield Wall, Loose formation
Miners
Miners
"Orc skulls are much easier to dislodge than the tough Iron of dwarven hills"
When dwarf lands are under threat militias of strong and sturdy miners issue forth from their mines to set free their lands and defend their homes. Their stout hearts and stubborn spirits make up a fine defense against lesser foes, and their punishing mattocks can cripple many an armor.
Abilities: Frenzied charge, Loose formation
Dragon Slayers Dragon Slayers
"The fire drakes of the north will still on occasion fly south in search of plunder, the dragon slayers of Ered Mithrin stand in defiance of the winged usurpers."
Dwarvish gold is the finest of treasures for the fire drakes of the north. However these chosen dwarves have trained for many years in vast halls of stone to slay these accursed beasts and guard to the death the treasure hordes of the dwarves. Their Mithril armor and dwarf-crafted axes can pierce the hardest of dragon scales.
Tirithi-Luin -Blue Guards- Tirithi-Luin -Blue Guards- (Alkar or someone plz correct my elvish if it is wrong)
"The Tirithi-Luin are the eldest and finest warriors of the Blue Mountains"
These dwarven Heroes bear an elvish name in honor of their close kinship with the Havens. The Tirithi-Luin or "Blue Guards" are the most renown soldiers of the blue mountains. Wielding foe-crushing axes and arrayed in splendorous armor the sons of the Blue mountains guard well against many foes.
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Originally Posted by cshewey
