orcs

She'd known that their luck would run out eventually, that it was only a matter of time until they were discovered during their little trip through the orc-infested region. That it had to happen just then, on that narrow path along the cliffs by the Greyflood with heavy rain coming down and the blasted hillmen too far ahead to help, that was more than piss-poor luck.

"It's no good, damn orcs are everywhere down there," said Ameren, pulling her mare to a halt as she came closer to the cart. "If we still had the cover of rain we may have been able to slip past them, but on a beautiful day like this they'll see us coming from a mile off."

Taskmaster Fulzog of Gurzum looked out over the empty outpost. The fighters have left and he was left behind with the second grade wimps to defend the camp. It was of little matter to the old orc though as after today, he and his tribe would become legends in the songs and tales of all orc-kind.

"Sickle-Fly again?! We do we always have to eat the stinking bugs?" Gorb shook his head before smacking that lowly rat of a Hurz back in his place with the stirring spoon. "Because I am the one making the food! If you know how to make this filth into something decent give it a try! Otherwise just hold your tongue and let me do the job!" Hurz scurried of somewhere, most likely to polish those wolf teeth of his. Chieftain said that the maggot used to keep them as pets until the previous cook made them into dinner.

We were worried by recent reports of an orc threat in the north, of an encampment established only a few hours’ ride from Bree, led by an orc known as the Red Reaver. Their proximity to Bree concerned us, so five of us – Myself, Ceolaric, Calebriorn, Finellan and Herfi – Set off, with the intention of discovering more about these orcs, and raiding their camp if possible.

Sitting on her bedroll, Immalaine thought back on her day. A strange one it had been, she mused to herself, and one that would have ended badly for her if it had not been for her friend Rastellion happening along. 

     Gaildrin approached the stronghold of Gramsfoot. He was alone, and intended to enter unnoticed, and see what secrets he may learn from his enemies. He viewed the fort from afar, trying to figure what the best entrance would be. The camp seemed to be quiet, much of the inhabitants were asleep, and the Orc guards seemed to be tired as well, obviously made to take long watches, with little rest in between.

     Gaildrin walked alone through the hills of the Ettenmoors. He heard of Orc companies moving under the cover of night through these lands, and decided to investigate these claims. He moved through the dark, tree covered hill with caution. His footsteps were quiet, though not the same silent steps of a ranger, or master hunter. Through long hours of walking and waiting, he patrolled the lands for sight of his prey, and finally was reward when he caught sight of the small light of a fire in the distance.