“The conquest has been dragged on long enough, Commander. I assumed your tribe would have been able to make short work of the men.” said the tall man, sitting upon a high chair. On the table, were scattered maps, old, maps from the days of the old kingdoms of Arnor. Surrounding the table were Orcs, and the retinue of men that followed the General.
“My lord, we ain’t too used to battlin’ Rangers. To be fair, we don’t even battle em! They just appear one place, and turn up in another!” complained one of the orcs, a burly one, though he seemed a coward at heart. The Numenorean would glare at him for a long moment, before turning his gaze down at the map, and leaning forward. He reached forward, his mailed fingers sliding over it. “What of the Hillmen? Are they fighting one another?” he asked, looking up to the orc scout beside its commander, “They wuz, lord. They ain’t now.” he said, reaching up to scratch at his throat. The Numenorean seemed as though he was about to fume, though he merely breathed in deeply through his nose, and turned to look back down at the map. “Right. Their number is not great, though it is enough to cause our Ranger friends some trouble. Though I’d sooner have them guard the passes, rather than orcs, if truth be told.” he leaned back to lean against the high chair.
One of the other men stepped forward, and pointed to sections of the map, “Annuminas, Fornost, Dol Dinen, these are our key points. Ongburz, Blogmal, and Krahjarn have several thousand orcs between them, and are consolidating their strength in order to push..” he paused a moment, dragging his finger to the Kingsfell farms, “Here. Rumor is that remnants of Stonehieght, and militia are gathered there, and have been causing great stress upon the Tarkrip, who were the vanguard in this assault.” he said, dragging his finger over toward Annuminas, “The Krahjarn battle for supremacy over the ancient city, though here the Rangers seem to be more open, more intent to keep the city in their grasp.” he said flatly, before standing upright, “I think there are two groups of Dunedain, their purpose to draw our attention away from the men, in order to grant them more time to prepare their defenses..” he said, leaning forward once again to tap Trestlebridge on the map, “Here.” he said, pausing as he looked down at the map.
The Lord shifted in his seat, and grunted angrily, “And what? Angmar has been cleared out for the most part, the key Orc Tribes have been pushed south in order to conquer, though are having issues. What was supposed to be a swift victory, has become a lengthy campaign, with neither side progressing enough.” he said, spiteful.
The doors to the hall opened, and another scout was shuffling in, and kneeled before the Black Numenorean, “Lord, Tarkrips have seen battle in Kingsfell, hoping to capture the men at unawares. Their Chieftain fell in the battle, and the Warband routed back into Gurzlum. Blogmal out of Fornost advanced aswell, but not on the men.” he finished, as though something was caught in his throat.
The Numenorean leaned forth, “Where’d they advance?” he asked sternly. The orc looked at the ground, and made a sort of whine in his throat, “Against Gurzlum. One ‘o their Captains are leadin’ a Warband to secure Gurzlum and the Tarkrips. I left soon after to report back to you.” he said, his hands starting to shake as he looked fearfully up at the Lord.
