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Thread: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

  1. #1
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    Default [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    This will as the name implies be the bloody continuation of the tale of the orc Malthur. He has walked out of Mordor in the Third Age mod with the Massive Overhaul Submod 1.6.2 + all the other changes I have made privately to my own installation. They are mainly new unit cards and unit statistics, and of course the portrait of the protagonist.

    The episodes will be named in the following manner: "Chapter X - X" where the last X is the latest episode of the chapter. We start at Chapter I - I.

    The story has a great deal of pictures, many more than An Orcs Tale. I have had some abysmally awful experiences with unreliable picture hosting sites and in the interest of lessening the burden of maintenance I am trying a new approach and posting the updates in the form of attached PDF files. I am leaning towards gradually updating one chapter at a time and attaching the latest version of chapter I to the latest post for example, so I won't have so many episode files to manage on my hard drive. I'm unsure if the chapters will become too large to attach, though.

    The prologue first chapter will be posted directly in the posts as well so new readers can have a preview of what the story looks like without having to log on to the forum.



    About the mod: Third Age takes place in the Lord of the Rings World and feature most of the starring factions of that universe. Sauron is most fittingly featured using the pope mechanism of Medieval II and his minions can attempt to persuade their master to call an invasion against enemy cities which is the reinterpretation of the crusade mechanism of the vanilla game.

    MOS is a compilation of a lot of submods which has gone on for quite some time now. It is rich in scripting but also offers the player the option to use or not use many of the features which I personally find very commendable.

    Campaign and Battle difficulty is set to Very Hard which in Medieval II means that the enemy will get a bit of a morale bonus in battles.

    Happy Reading!


    Last edited by Maltacus; March 26, 2020 at 06:17 PM.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Prologue - I

    The winter when the year passed from 2987 to 2988 of the third age was the wettest, muddiest and most miserable that any save elves or dwarves remembered. Snow drifted by in droves and melted as soon as it reached the ground while the roads became unusable and walls and roofs rotted and leaked. The very world grieved for Gondors fall, for her armies that lay felled and bleeding and trampled over by iron shod orcs. The world felled tears uncounted for Mundborg that burned for days, or if it was weeks, or maybe months, without cease.

    Fear had gripped the land of Rohan, the grasslands north of Gondor. Farmers and shepherds flocked to the towns and strong places in the White Mountains that made up the southern border, cowering in anticipation of the dark lords throngs. The Rohirrim, the riders of Rohan, were mustered everywhere and militias raised to stand watch over palisaded villages. How many armies would the enemy send? What towns would they march against? Who could hope to stand against them if they came? Was there no hope at all, if not even Gondor could withstand Mordors hosts?

    Was there another way out? Whispers were being heard at first, and they grew to questions and clamor. Ill boding tongues said the king was leading Rohan into a storm that she could not ride out, into certain ruin. Mark well, people would say, that we are not strictly speaking at war with the dark lord yet although we have sent our good men to die in Gondors misfortunes. Why should we not look to our own and seek accommodation, or, at the very least, strive to not provoke and escalate the tense situation even further? The slightest misstep may invite disaster, so we would have to tread very lightly, and if need be we would have to sacrifice some small, insignificant part of our realm to preserve the greater whole. Such things they whispered, everywhere and nowhere.

    The capital of Rohan, a grand term for such a small settlement, was Edoras. Timbered walls and houses surrounding a great hall with a golden roof that shone in the morning, Edoras lay to the south near the foot of the White Mountains that marked the southern border, behind which was Gondor. On the hill outside the kings hall stood motionless shapes in scale hauberks and golden helms, awaiting the dawn, ever watching the plains around the hall, Meduseld as it was called. Of these shapes, one saw not the field around him but a city of ruins, wherever he looked. Osgiliath, from where he had ridden not two months ago. Leofara was the name of the dark shape in the cold grey light, whose thoughts turned to another dark shape garbed in mail, now gone. Widfara, the commander of those Rohirrim that had chosen to go south to the aid of Gondor, the man that slew a mountain troll with his last swing of his sword. Widfara, who had sent Leofara away moments before that, for what purpose Leofara could only guess.

    "...do you believe that he can be beaten, Leofara?" Widfara had asked.
    "I do. Somehow I do. But not by us, today."
    "No, not this day."

    Widfara had looked out across the eastern banks of the great river Anduin from where fire was about to be raining down on them, thoughtful and calm in the face of their doom.

    "We can hold them here for half a day, for whatever short time it will take them to cut through us to the other side of the river. If there is the slightest chance that Gondors footmen can reach the city in that time it is something I will be proud to fight this losing battle for."
    "I stand with you."
    "No, Leofara, not this time. You must gather the garrison of Cair Andros to do whatever it is they can do to aid, and more urgently you must ride north, home."
    "You would have me turn tail, flee at this moment in the face of the orcs? What sort of man do you take me for!"
    "A man with a duty. Death is easy, life is heavy..."
    "...and duty heaviest of all, yes, yes. Why, Wid', why?"

    Widfara had sighed.

    "You are my best man, my second in command for a great number of reasons. Rohan needs at least one of us left to fight another day, right? But more, you have seen his work, you have seen how those orcs can fight. Ride home, raise the alarm. Make them listen! Don't let our people be caught in the open and torn apart, or trapped in wooded cages to be burned at will by that fiend! Have our people take to the mountains, defend at Helms Deep, not Edoras or Aldburg or any such place. Go!"

    And Leofara had gone, with tears running of shame and grief for Widfara and all the rest. And he had ridden home and he had tried to do as he had been asked. Then the news of Mundborg burning came and all hope and will seemed to plummet. One orc chieftain appeared then as just a drop in a river of woe streaming in from the south and few would listen much to Leofara after that, especially since the orcs and their dreaded catapults seemed to have disappeared ever since the burning. No fort or town had been put under siege and none had encountered black plated orcs with such machinery. Rohan had enough miseries to worry about without conjuring more, Leofara was told, and by none more eager and vehement than the kings new councilor, a man known for his venomous but yet still compelling arguments and growing influence among the disillusioned and the desperate. Grima he was called, but Leofara had found he agreed more with those that spat a far less kind name after the man. Wormtongue.


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  3. #3
    TurkafinwŰ's Avatar The Absurdist
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    You wouldn't believe how excited I was when I saw this thread pop up.

    And so, in our time of need, Malthur returns!


    PS: Personally I use the album feature of TWC to host my pictures. It's a bit clunky but it works.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    I believe I can make an educated guess judging from the comments to An Orcs Tale

    Album feature, is that like uploading the pictures as attachments? I know attachments can be grouped into folders by I'm not familiar with the term album in twc.

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    TurkafinwŰ's Avatar The Absurdist
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    You can upload your pictures to TWC itself and then add them to your chapters via copying the BB code. They won't be attachments but actually pictures, like they would look when using a third party website. Here's a link to basic instructions regarding uploading your pictures to TWC and using them in your posts.

    Yeah I really loved An Orc's Tale.
    Last edited by TurkafinwŰ; March 28, 2020 at 08:35 AM. Reason: one e is one too many

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    I see. I think it's also possible to attach pictures and insert directly into the post as the very next step, but the ability to group them into albums in that manner will certainly be mandatory to manage an AAR:s worth of pictures. It does as you say feel clunky and a bit too slow for my taste so I'll stick to the original idea if as far as it works out with attachment size, but I'll try out the album feature for the prologues pictures.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    The return of Malthur is an exciting event! The bleak, desperate mood of Rohan after what happened in Gondor comes across powerfully. I'm interested to see what role the King's new adviser will play - of course, when our hero himself will appear.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Our noble hero and kind and gentle benefactor indeed...

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Prologue - II
    Rohan was a land of great contrast and great likeness. A sea of grass, it held few large settlements and fewer still of stone or fortified in other manner. The land was roughly in the shape of a square, wider than it was high, and framed by all things other than grass. To the south were the White Mountains, impassable, and to the west they met the southernmost parts of the Misty Mountains between which was the Gap of Rohan. Both these mountain ranges held great fortresses, Helms Deep in the northernmost outrunner of the White Mountains and Isengard at the feet of the Misty Mountains, as if the mountains contested between one another who held the greatest stone works. Indeed both those places were things of majestic art and craft that had since then dwindled and was long forgotten. Out of Isengard ran the river Isen which had since long marked the western border of the realm. Here the kings of Rohan kept a watch but with Helms Deep being close and far mightier than any other of their strongholds there was little need to build great ramparts or walls at the place. Moreover the Rohirrim were not builders by heart but shepherds and riders who trusted in their steeds more than their stone.

    North of Rohan grass turned to forest, nowhere more than in the northwest where the great forest of Fangorn stood and where few men would dare to enter. To the northeast the grass became rougher and sparser as stony heaths and desolate plains filled the eye until further north where the woods of the elves stood untouched. It was a bleak and empty land with only few and poor herders braving the harsh winds and the danger that lurked so far out. Running down from that direction and bordering Rohan on the eastern side was finally Anduin, the greatest of rivers. The western banks were flanked by woods and the westernmost parts of the cliffs of Emyn Muil through which the river had dug out its course until the falls of Rauros marked the beginning of Anduins southern stretch, and cliffs gave way to marshlands where countless birds nested. Between those marshlands at the mouth of the river Entwash and the easternmost of the White Mountains, crowned by Minas Tirith, was the land called Anorien and here went the main road northeast from Gondor into Rohan. That road began going out of the northern gate of Rammas Echor, the wall surrounding the field of Pelennor outside Minas Tirith, and the heavy footsteps of mountain trolls could still be seen here and there along it.

    Rich or poor, nearly everyone of Rohan lived by their herds and horses in one way or the other. By summer shepherds drove their animals north and west to graze and come winter they would retreat to the south and middle to take shelter in towns and villages and take advantage of the milder climate of the southeast, Eastfold as they called it. Artisans and traders moved with them and the kings riders kept watch. Farms there were too, most in the south and east, but the windswept plains were a harsh place to winter in and many would move with their kin to more sheltered places. It was near those that the few large towns grew up, bastions against the eternal foes named cold and hunger rather than raiders from distant lands. As the midwinter passed and the ash stopped raining from the sky in Anorien when the wind blew from the south, raiders from a distant land did appear.





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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    OMG! Could it be?

    Great description of Rohan and its people. I'm really getting hyped up.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Prologue - III
    Riders rode with tidings and messages across Rohan but none came with the call to muster and the king was biding his time in his hall, people said, or the king could do nothing with his hands tied by the new and untrustworthy advisors he surrounded himself with. It all depended on who asked and who answered, and few seemed very eager to voice their honest and frank opinion. What has become of us, Leofara thought, whose strength it has always been that we spoke from our heart no matter birth or station? He was in the mess hall of Edoras' watch, just picking up his rations and looking for a good spot to take a seat. Even the mess hall itself, so often home to boasting, laughter or heated but honest discussion and grumblings was not what it should be. Hushed tones, raised shoulders and lowered and troubled glances met his eyes wherever he laid his eyes. Leofara shook his head, but finally saw a familiar face. Oswald, a courier and scout, raised his tankard as a greeting and nodded at the seat opposite him. Leofaras mood brightened. Oswald was a long time friend. They had not met too often but always helped one another if needed and acted towards one another with respect. Rohirrim in general held such dependability and mutual service in very high regard and Oswald was also not too troubled by moods and general opinions in towns and halls, being used to the wilds and long rides as courier. He could certainly use such company this day. Leofara also wondered if Oswald would happen to have news regarding the horde of orcs that had been sighted in the east and as it turned out Oswald had just that.

    "They crossed the Entwash very far east and have stayed off the great west road ever since. The king sent a couple of thousands to watch the bridge on the road north to Onodrith but they didn't force that crossing. Instead they've clashed with outriders and patrols along the road north until the people realized they all had to fall back and the marshal called the whole river folk to the walls. The king sent Eomer to the town from some mission up north to take command but it would seem the orcs have no interest in Onodrith and were about to ford the river when I rode off. They wouldn't have much difficulty finding the ford south of the town, it's fairly well used and they would just need to follow the trails and tracks."

    "That orc horde, what's the composition? How many?"

    "Should be at least a couple of thousands but maybe more. But that's just counting the orcs, see, and these fellows have a number of trolls with them. Big ugly beasts, those, and our horses shy away from 'em if they get close by. I mean, horses have some brains after all. You wouldn't want to linger if you missed the thrust with your spear against one of those. Those orcs are bad business too I hear, well armored, more than the average rabble we hear about from the south. Black plate all over and they keep tight ranks with spears and pole axes, and archers behind that. No cavalry, at least."

    "Do they have catapults?"

    "No, not as far as anyone has seen. They don't seem to heavily burdened at all, few wagons for a force of that size. Why?"

    "I believe I know that particular orc army, and more importantly who leads it. Valar help us all if I am right."




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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Prologue - IV
    Far north of Edoras, in the sparsely inhabited plains in the middle of Rohan, marched indeed the black-plated army of orcs and trolls. Thriving in the dark, orc raiding parties struck at herds and hamlets in their way until it became clear that all had fled before them. The course had shifted from west to northwest and they made good speed for a dismounted horde, although the outriders and scouts of the Rohirrim had little trouble keeping pace, although the flanking orc archers forced them to keep their distance. Where they were going and what went on among them, none could tell from outside and the Rohirrim waited and watched for the moment. Had they come closer, they would have heard the echoing of some of the seemingly endless arguing among the spiteful kin that orcs are.

    "I'm starving! We ain't got nothing but maggot-eaten bread for thirteen stinking days!"

    "Yes, why can't we have ourselves some meat! What about Yagul, we could eat him, yes?"

    "You think you're funny, little rat?! Come here, I'll show you what's on the menu tonight! Served bloody and steaming!"

    As the pair hurled themselves against one another the onlookers hooted and cheered, taking any chance to distract themselves from the aching in their bellies and the hardships of the march, the pale but yet unbearable winter sun and the underlying fear of what they were in on. Among their kind, it was after all not an impossible step between a foolish jibe about ending up butchered by your comrades and the very same becoming reality, for rocs will stop at nothing to survive, save for fear of someone mightier than they.

    "Break it up! Now! What the hell is going on here!?"

    "Chieftain! We ain't got anything decent to eat for ages!"

    "No, we ain't. What're you gonna do about that, Shagul?"

    "Uh... I say we knock down one of those whiteskin camps we passed! Fresh meat, boys!"

    A general roaring of assent and shared sentiments about the lackluster meals followed. The chieftain waited for it to die down with and almost bored yawn.

    "Well, Shagul, here's the thing: We are alone out here. That means, unlike before when we marched under the eye, we ain't got any boys to spare. See, I would love to throw away yours and some other malcontent maggot- lives on one of those ill-conceived attacks beating down palisades with sticks and stones, but I don't even have any of that to spare right now. So we keep away from those towns that we all know that we can take, until we can take 'em without having to crawl over their walls."

    "And when's that, chief!?"

    The orc chieftains black gauntlet smashed into the lower chest of Shagul, who crumbled to the ground in a heap, clutching his chest.

    "It is when I flaming say it is, maggot! You take double shifts tonight and maybe you can find the brains during your watch to catch on."

    The crowd around laughed and jeered at the knocked down orc. The chieftain still had them in a tight grip, but stupid incidents like this was becoming more frequent and it would only be a matter of time before they would get out of hand. He noticed that Lugduf, his artillery captain before the burning, was coming along.

    "Funny fellow, ain't he?" Lugduf said seemingly casual.

    "Yeah, a real jester. Flaming idiot. What's on your mind, Lugduf?" the chieftain asked demandingly.

    "Well, what you said there, chief, about us getting ready to take back the towns. And us bringing with us all of the rope... You intend to rebuild the catapults."

    "I intend to rebuild the catapults."

    "Looking forward to it, chief, but...I can't make much of the small woods we've passed so far. I'm gonna need more'n bigger trees to whip up our stone throwers again."

    The orc chieftain seemed almost amused, noting how his curious subordinate failed to conceal his interest even with the ever looming threat of being firmly put in his place.

    "Have you looked north lately, Lugduf? What do you see?"

    "More of this damned plains...something darker out there? Flaming sun's making it hard to make out..."


    "That dark line is forest. A flaming huge one too, I have been told. We will set up our camp there, wall it up against those whiteskin riders, and when we get back on that road we'll have a nice little surprise ready for the next walled town we come across." Malthur said with a most menacing anticipation as he unconsciously felt the leather case he always kept on him underneath his plate. It's contents had indeed told him about the forest, and proven to be a most valuable prize.





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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Ah, it's good to see our noble hero back in action, valuing the lives of his soldiers (unlike some commanders, who recklessly lead their troops into the range of enemy catapults). It's nice that he's leading his followers to a pleasant camping trip near a forest, where I imagine they will relax and sing happy campfire songs. That will be handy for firewood, and anything else they plan on using wood for.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Just a lovely trip with the boys to the dank, tree-infested Fangorn. I would join if I wasn't stuck here in my Dark Tower.

    Malthur Unnamed chieftain always was a generous leader, good to see he's still able to control his orcs through the hardships of marching (he did gain probably gained a lot of experience in the scorching heat of Harad, don't ask me why I think that ).

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Muzul will have to remember to book the two of you for next years trip. Happy Easter! No Easterlings appearing unfortunately.

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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Prologue - V
    The orcs camp was being built near the edge of the forest but still some hundred of steps from unrestricted open ground where cavalry could charge unimpeded. It wasn't surrounded completely by the forest, and the logging quickly cleared the surroundings even more, but it was more than enough to send a chill down the spine of many of the orcs. They mistrusted the woods in their very hearts. More so for those who had suffered the rangers ghostly attacks in Ithilien, where every step had eventually felt like it was being taken before the eyes of an archer aiming his arrow at you. Yet here at the edge of these woods nothing of note happened. At least that was what Malthur pointed out when scouts and builders spoke of the strange place they had come to. Did not the creaking of old trees sound more...angry than in any ordinary forest?

    And then there were those strange incidents to other loggers. Dozens complained of how they had tripped and fallen where a root just had inserted itself in their path, and sworn it wasn't there the moment before. And some had fallen through when the ground had opened up to trap a foot or an ankle, as if the same roots had moved to open a hole to trap ones foot.

    Malthur dismissed the complaints with vehemence but he could see the lingering and mistrustful gazes of his army. They were becoming unsettled, the surroundings turning into a dark and menacing whole, impenetrable and closing in to swallow them. He needed to do something to dispel the dread that stuck to this forest. It was time to show who ruled this land.

    "Assemble!" The orc chieftain climbed a large rock that had been encircled by their camp. It was always useful to be on the lookout for such useful places, as you never knew when you might need to address your subordinates in a way that all could see.

    "Some of you stinking little rats have been yapping about the pretty little scenery here. Not to your delicate liking? Well, time to strike such thoughts from your flaming minds! We're going to clear this forest of every flaming little rabbit and we're gonna do it now!"

    The camp sprung to life at Malthurs orders. He would take half the archers and a company of infantry with him, along with all the battle trolls. Those trolls trained to handle catapults were used to steady and continuous labor like loading and pushing the catapults and could be put to work building the camp and moving felled trees. The close fighting trolls were the most bad tempered of their kind, selected in equal measure for their ferocity and unsuitability for catapult work. They would be unreliable if left behind, but excellent for smashing down whatever could be hiding among those trees.

    Just as the raiding party was forming up, a breathless scout hurried into the camp. They had found tracks.


    The tracks looked like nothing Malthur had seen before. Deep and round, they were vaguely resembling an enormous troll foot. The stride as well spoke of a monumental creature, if that was indeed what they were dealing with. It was thrilling to see, a worthy foe to hunt if that was what they would face, Malthur thought. The trail led west it seemed, but the path winded this way and that and it was not consistent with any clear intention to get west or anywhere else with speed.

    The main body of the raiding party moved in a column following the tracks, with half the archers screening them on both sides and a few ranging ahead. They went deeper and deeper in among the trees, soon beyond the range of the scouts patrolling outside the camp.


    Marching for days, they still found no trace of whatever it was that had made these tracks. On one occasion they had heard a distant rumbling call, but it sounded so unlike any beast known to the orcs that most thought it was only the wind. Malthur had nearly decided to call off the foray, as it was unwise to leave the greater part of the army unattended for too long, when scouts came back speaking of a cave to which the tracks led.

    On closer inspection it was not a cave, rather a huge slab of stone that lay on a huge rock on a slope and formed a sort of roof. A small stream flowed just beside. Malthur ordered the companies to make camp for the moment. There was a peculiar hollowe out rock next to the stream, almost like soem giant, troll-sized cup. Was it crafted by someone, by the same creature that had made the tracks? The stone roof too, how had it come to be? Were there actually things in the forest that could move rocks of that size? No, the orc chieftain shook his head to clear it of those ideas, his paranoia was getting hold of him. The scouts were posted, he had half a thousand uruks and three companies of battle trolls with him. Whatever was in these woods, they were ready to face it.

    Perhaps a drink was in order. It was long between streams of great size in the forest and water had been starting to become a problem for the large force. The air felt somehow close and shut in, despite being outside and thirst came fast. The orc chieftain dipped his flask into the stream. It looked clear enough and tasted...very good. Used as they were to dirty, muddy water and looking forward to the next drink of orc spirits the orcs had never put any value on water as something beyond a base necessity. But this stream tasted fresh like few other thing, and it was invigorating! He stretched his shoulders as if finally getting rid of decades of stiffness and it wasn't far from it. The gnawing ache from the old wounds of Khamuls knife was gone, or had at least lessened to barely an itch. Countless strains, bruises and just weariness from restless sleep and uncomfortable armor that he had gotten so used to they were part of everyday life, were like they had never happened. Blinking, Malthur realized that even the sunlight didn't sting quite as much as it used to. He was definitely downing another flask, or five! He ordered the orcs to make camp around the place and send out scouts in a wide area instead. Just to be on the safe side, Malthur posted his bodyguard around the stream. It wouldn't do to let anyone else find out what it was like, at least not until he was done with it.

    The orcs sat down with a sigh, not complaining of an afternoons unexpected rest, apart from the unlucky scouts selected. They chattered, argued and started fires but there was still a shadow of unease that lingered over them. Even more so for the trolls. Slower of mind than most, and stronger than all, they were not used to feeling fear or unease on any occasion but this part of the woods clearly unnerved them. Olog-Hai muttered and grunted at each other, glaring in different directions. And now even Malthur could hear the trees creaking, not least near the trolls, and the wind did actually sound like it carried menacing whispers in it. If there really was some will in this forest, it held a special anger against trolls. No matter, Malthur thought, Lugduf could deal with that in the meantime and the next day they could return to the camp and soon he would have some catapults to overrun the fortified towns in the area effortlessly. He just needed another drink before grabbing some rest. And, come to think of it, all that water ran right through you. He looked at the peculiar cave-like dwelling and shrugged, it would do as well as anything else.




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  17. #17
    TurkafinwŰ's Avatar The Absurdist
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Quote Originally Posted by Maltacus View Post
    Muzul will have to remember to book the two of you for next years trip.
    Yes please.

    The defiling of Wellinghall has begun. You capture the atmosphere of Fangorn perfectly, I find, the uneasiness and strange noises. I already dread the moment when they meet my favourite "not-tree" tree.

    Chapter XXVII: The Choice
    #JusticeForAkar #JusticeForCal #JusticeForCookie #JusticeForAthelchan



  18. #18
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    I agree with Turk.

    It looks like our noble hero will soon be able to return to his glorious campaigning. It was very sensible of him to post guards on the stream whose water had such unusual effects and very self-sacrificing of him to keep any risk of drinking this water to himself!

    It sounds ominous for Rohan that the sunlight didn't sting Malthur as much after drinking the water.

  19. #19
    Senator
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Who knows, the springs of the health resort may even have the power to make a hobbit grow and grow even thicker and curlier hair, if such a thing can be imagined?

  20. #20
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: [Third Age MOS AAR] An Uruks Tale

    Yeah, just imagine that! Then those taller, hairer hobbits could ride proudly into the Shire, getting curious looks among the inhabitants. Of course, it probably wouldn't happen, Maltur wouldn't allow it!

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