Bloodlust Is Stronger Than Greed

[Arteh 1837]

 

A warhorn blows, its roar being heard from the Lands of Orc to the Valleys of Men. Thunder roaring as rain bristled off of the helmets of Orcs. Fires roared as the banner of the Iron Uzg rose high and mighty amongst the ranks.

 

Rex Vrogak'Gorkil riding atop his Warboar, examining all of his troops as the Shamans called upon the blessings of the spirits. 

 

Vrogak'Gorkil gets off of his Warboar; Bahboosh, as he walks amongst the ranks, motivating his troops and giving a speech.

 

"Diz am bi da tym fuh latz tu shuw da Ztowtz wud latz am mayde uf! ar latz globz?! or ar latz da blud of Krug!"

 

The Orcs began chanting, and rallying, the rain heavily increasing as they began pounding their swords against their chestplates.

 

"Diz am bi da tym uf da Irun Uzg! Diz am bi da tym tu hunuh Krug! Diz am bi da tym of da URUKZ!"

 

The chanting, now enraged with motivation began, as the Warhorn of the Iron Uzg blew for another time, though this time, to alert the Dwarves that they were coming. 

 

The Orcs marched up onto the open field, swords in hands, archer divisions; organized and steady. Thunder crackled yet again as a hectic fray of organization began amongst the ranks. Steadying the front ranks, covering the flanks. The river grew restless as the weather was beginning its course of disaster.

 

Volleys flying from both sides, though the Orcs stood steady, and fearless in their ranks. In the distance, the Dwarven array of shaking knees could be seen. Small, stumpy, creatures bearing more armour than their mass, standing instilled in fear. Rex Vrogak'Gorkil, noticing this amongst the Dwarven Ranks, closes his eyes. Looking up to the sky as the rain pours through his large tusks and eye-holes of his helmet. He swiftly calls for a charge on the Dwarves as his men immediately begin marching forwards. 

 

The Dwarves fell, slaughtered by the Orcs of the Iron Uzg. Screams from the Dwarvish Ranks could be heard as they seen their kin slaughtered. Some ran, others stood bravely, defending their honour. Lastly, none were left. Every Dwarf had fallen to the will of the Orcs. Their blades, dripping with blood as the chant of 'Krug' began to echo throughout the lands. With very little casualties for the Iron Uzg.

 

An abundance of beards were chopped off, which then provided to the camp-fire which warmed the Orcs within the Goi. The battle had been won, decisively. 

 

Vrogak'Gorkil stood atop of the palace, looking over to the Dwarven Mountains in the distance

 

He says; "Stand duwn, Ztowt, wi hab flatten latz enuff"

[CosmicWhaleShark 2488]

 

Phaedrus joins Vrogak atop the palace, his gaze shifting from the mountains to the marshy foothills where the battlefield was set. The clashing sounds of the Uruks piling Dwarven metal in front of his forge to be melted down, along with the celebrations, feasting and shouting fill the inner walls of the Goi. The Targoth turns to his Rex, giving him a slow nod of approval as a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, pleasantly surprised by how the events unfolded. He clears his throat before speaking, expression returning to a cold, stoney state.

 

"This was a great victory, Vrogak, but we need to plan like we did for this battle, for every other battle to come. A wounded enemy is a bitter one. And relenting now, despite however small the chance, still leaves a possibility for the tables to turn once more.

 

We must show great force, to instill proper fear, to attain proper peace. Press the attack until every Dwarf fears what might occur if they so much as crease a blade of grass on the savannah with their boot. Until every Dwarf curses the day they sent terms to our gate."

[James 425]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.