The Fort and the Pit

Ur-Hakon the Hornblower had a fine eye for detail. Until his encounter with the Tark, he had two of them. But even with the loss of one, he still saw more than most. And what he saw since coming into the service of the Great Chief Thrag filled him with wonder.

Ur-Hakon was a lover of battle. Not some one who loved battle, no. He had taken battle as his one true lover in this life. More than the bloodlust and sadism of his fellows among the Uruks and Ologs, the Hornblower sought a deeper connection to battle and all its forms and applications. In his time on Middle Earth he had scoured the lands in search of details on battles past and the people who fought them.

Learning these secrets had revealed much of the greater truths to the one eyed Olog. And with this knowledge and with his eye for detail, Ur-Hakon knew he was in the womb of the Fourth Age. For he knew a secret.

Thrag was a Maiar.

Just like Sauron.

One only needed to look at the walls going up around Thrag's Keep, a defensive structure tighter than a crab's asshole even before the ring walls went up. Look at the troops drilling below, at the birth of the pike block, a formation that would dominate the open field of battle. Look at the beautiful changes wrought in the Uruks and Ologs themselves. Who but the Maiar could create such wonders?

But more than that one only needed to observe Thrag himself for a time to see the truth. Each day the Uruk rose larger and more powerful then when he'd gone to sleep. Just a small bit each day, but over months the changes were startling. How much power would this Maiar wield?

It was the power of a Great Spirit molding the flesh it housed to its purpose. And Thrag's purpose was domination.

Already he had thrown off the tyranny of the sun, stolen the beauty of the Elves, the secrets of metal from the Dwarves, husbandry of the land from Men. Soon all greatness will belong to Thrag, and to those who serve him.

Each day more of the Feral Tribe, the tribe that centered around the Ettin here in Nurn, folded themselves into the Enlightened Tribe. There had been talks with the Machine Tribe of Gorgoroth who held the fortress Gashgor and clashes with the Mystic Tribe coming down from Seregost. Thrag had ordered them captured and had taken to breaking them to learn their secret magics.

Ur-Hakon's old tribe, the Warmongers, held Cirith Ungol in the west, and the best part of leaving those lands had been the absence of the spiders. The Terror Tribe had taken the Black Hand Fortress after the Tark had slain all those creepy piles of shrahk, and the Marauder Tribe wasted their time in their desert fortress Shindam out in Lithlad.

It was only a matter of time before they were all Enlightened or destroyed.

With each passing day the noose tightened and nobody else noticed it. Each day Thrag grew in strength, and each day so to did his army. And Ur-Hakon gladly played his role in it. He kept discipline in the ranks. As an experience Commander there was none better for the task.

And if a few recruits were smashed to death for their incapability to learn their left from their right all the better. There was no place for imbeciles in the coming days.

"Now when you hear this sequence, lower pikes and charge!" Ur-Hakon blew out a series of horn calls and watched his trainees complete the maneuver adequately.

"Good, now we have a little treat for you all." the one eyed Olog grinned menacingly and led the pike block to a wide pit dug in the earth with cages built into the sides.

"Get in there and spread out." he commanded and watched the nervous Uruks obey.

"Good. In thirty seconds we will release a graug into the pit." Ur-Hakon laughed, "Those spears aren't only good for formation fighting. They are also twenty feet of sharp stick between you and danger. Now think on your feet and use them."

A pair of grinning Beastmasters pulled up the door to a massive cage and dropped hot coals into the cell causing the twenty foot tall monstrosity to come out running and roaring.

Watching his trainees cause more problems for each other than for the graug tickled that cruel center found in all of the foul folk.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The new overlord of the region had deigned to grace the spawning pits.

As an apprentice to the Spawnmaster, Gubu daily took part in the rituals that shaped the bodies of Orc and Uruk. Deep within the womb of the earth, existed places of lamentation and the gnashing of teeth where true horror was visited upon the peoples of middle earth and even those from beyond these shores for not even the maiar had been spared Morgoth's depravity in the first age.

These wounds in creation ceaselessly discharged a rich black muck like pus from an infection. This muck through black ritual was shaped into fetal orcs and uruks and gestated to birth the foul folk full grown and ready for war.

Not that the Warchiefs and Overlords up on the surface cared for such knowledge of how their warriors came to be. As long as they had fresh bodies for their armies nothing that goes on in the spawning pits mattered.

The bronze Uruk was of rare model - not just for his cleanliness as Gubu had seen the member of the Enlightened Tribe that had built a processing station at the mouth of the pit to induct fresh Uruks into their tribe rather than allow them to wander the wilderness and find their own path - the bronze Uruk was huge. Taller than any Gubu had ever seen, and packed with titanic muscles under his skin.

Not even black ritual robes could conceal his might.

"And you are sure that you have told me everything about the running of the pits." the bronze Uruk chuckled as he patted the Pitmaster on the shoulder in good cheer.

The usually dower Pitmaster smiled and threw back another pint of grog, "Thas everthing." he slurred.

"Wonderful." the bronze Uruk smiled before he clamped his enormous hands on the Pitmasters head and squeezed.

The old Pitmaster squealed as the bronze Uruk's thumbs tore his eyes, but those squeals soon ended when his skull exploded under the applied compression.

The bronze Uruk just laughed and slicked his long hair back, unphased by the blood and brain matter.

Gubu had bitten his hand to silence his terrified panting as he pressed his form as deeply into the shadows and he could. Trying his best to merge with the stone walls of the pit. Too afraid to move, he bore witness to the bronze Uruk as he conducted a ritual, but not the ritual Gubu and the Pitmaster performed each day.

As the perverted ritual approached its climax the bronze uruk dropped his robe and revealed his nude form. Gubu forced down a terrified scream at the sight of a demon's face in the muscles of the bronze Uruk's back.

Gubu remained still and quiet as the bronze Uruk continued his chanting while stroking his powerful cock and at the climax of the ritual the bronze Uruk shuddered while shooting out incredible white ropes into the rich black muck.

Horrible realization came to Gubu. This pit would no longer produce brothers to the bronze Uruk, but instead it shall grow his sons.

"Did you enjoy the show?" the bronze Uruk spoke and Gubu's heart stopped for a painful few seconds before resuming at a thunderous and rapid rate.

"From now on this is the ritual you will complete each day." the bronze Uruk chanted a third ritual and Gubu burnt it into his mind, "Repeat it to me." he demanded.

Without hesitation Gubu chanted the new ritual to the satisfaction of the bronze Uruk.

"Good. Chant that each day and you shall live." the Bronze Uruk spoke as he donned his robe once more, "And if you ever perform either of the previous rituals again your death will be spoken of in awe for an entire age."

"Yes, master." Gubu wheezed and bowed his head to the floor of the pit.

The bronze Uruk left and Gubu prayed to all that is unholy to never see him again.