The Eternal Fly in the Ointment

"You wasted your time coming here, necromancer." I addressed Zog the Eternal from atop my throne.

"How could that be?" Zog, a filthy cream skinned lesser Uruk of the Mystic Tribe, smiled, "Have I not seen the future of Mordor burning strongly even in these days of woe for the Orc. So many have fallen in the last year, yet Nurn rises stronger for it. Even if the lack of corpses in a tad… distressing."

"I am sure there are enough to find lying around Seregost." I informed him, trying to pawn off the maverick onto Orthog the Gravewalker."

Zog shrugged with a temporary frown on his face, "The Overlord took the best bodies for his own use and had the remainder mashed up to feed the Spawn Pits. So I came south to raise up an army of the dead in service to the Dark Lord, yet I find none here as well."

Feeding the Spawn Pits with mashed corpses allows a temporary increase in production, but the fear of the slain in their final moments passes on to the offspring, tainting many of the new Orcs and Uruks with cowardice. Orthog's situation reeked of desperation.

"We ate them." I informed the diminutive Uruk, "Feasted on the meat for days alongside my hordes of Caragors and Wargs. Boiled the bones for broth with onions and garlic."

"How… wasteful." the necromancer lamented, "Surely a sorcerer of your caliber could have raised the lot. The armies of Mordor are greatly diminished in these times. We must do everything in our power to see them restored for when our master calls us to his glorious service."

"We have a different definition of waste." I told the mystical little cretin, "But at least we share the sentiment of it being the only true tragedy."

"Yes! Yes indeed, it is!" Zog agreed with a wide smile revealing his sharp triangular teeth.

"It is good that we can part on such a… mutual respect." I chuckled at the Trickster and waved his dismissal.

"Tar Garoth rises once more." Zog ignored his dismissal, "Soon, before the leaves turn, the Great General of Morgoth shall join the armies of the Shadow. When that day comes I shall call on you again to lend your power to binding the Balrog to the will of Sauron."

Zog made his exit from my throne room. And I considered his words. I burned down Carnan during my war against nature in Nurn, meaning Talion would be fuck all worthless against the Balrog but at least I would never be subjected to the Spirit's Scottish nonsense ever again. Dumb bitch just wouldn't get behind my explanation that civilization is nature, just like a beehive or an ant hill.

I refuse to truck with wild things too stupid to submit to me, or things inefficient compared to similar creatures. Graugs got the boot in the last year because I have Ologs who can do pretty much everything Graugs do but also eat less and have brains greater than a human toddler powering their bodies meaning they can not only lift heavy shit but also take it places without a minder.

Everything has pros and cons, and when the cons outweigh the pros I get a little genocidal. That's why the Caragath's are all gone. Think Caragors that move absolutely silently. Dope, right?

Wrong.

The things are damn hard to track, a bitch to capture, refuse to domesticate, and can stalk your home boys whenever they slip their cages. I lost a lot of Orcs and Uruks before I gave up on the special forces mounts and organized a thorough search and destroy operation on the beasts.

Enough about murdering animals, Tar Goroth is coming and I need to think how to play this. Sauron has little hope that Tar Goroth can be tamed, so he sends Zog in his stead. A disposable sacrifice that will be able to test the waters so to speak. In the games Tar Goroth goes on quite the rampage across Gorgoroth and through Seregost. If he does so again then I am well served by simply allowing him his glut of destruction.

Every death suffered by my 'allies' puts me in a better position here in Nurn. Mordor has such stellar natural barriers that I only need to worry about internal conflict, as the only open border abuts our vassal states of Rhun and Khand. Both of which have been allies for thousands of years and mostly worship Sauron making incursion unlikely so long as I can deal with him before he feels the need to call an invasion of Mordor to end me.

Basically the only people I need to worry about are my fellow Overlords, the Nazgul, and Sauron himself. I am safe from the first group, plan to assassinate the leader of the second group, and hope that I can orchestrate the Celebrimbor Sauron failed fusion dance, but to do so requires me to, oh I can barely stand it… Cooperate with Talion.

What has the world come to that cunning schemes would see my stunning Uruk bod march lockstep with the coolest protagonist in the Lord of the Rings verse?

I'll have to compose a letter. I think it will read:

Yo, Talion.

It's ya boi Thrag. Let's team up to gank the Dark Lord. Totally not a trap.

Peace, Dawg

That sounds about right.

"Torgog. Get over here. I gotta letter for you to pass on." I shouted to my son Torgog the Tracker, a boy after the OG Thrag's heart with all his overpowered senses but also functional thinky thinky bits. Helluva combination right there.

"Who's it going too?" the olive skinned Uruk asked.

"The Tark." I told him and the poor boy's jaw dropped.

"Is it a death threat?" He questioned.

"Nah." I informed him as I put the words on a scroll and rolled it up, handing it to Torgog with the quill and inkpot, "Have him write back."

"What if he don't want to read it?" he inquired about the very likely possibility.

"Then throw it at him while yelling 'Lighting Bolt' then run like hell." I nodded, "Take some of your brothers with you to slow him down if he turns hostile."

"Should prolly take the slow ones." Torgog nodded.

Kid's gotta good head on his shoulders.

"As for the rest of you," I addressed my boys, "We are going to get ready to give Tar Goroth a father and sons ass whooping. Cause if that Balrog tries coming South that is exactly what he is going to get."

My boys shouted their hardy agreement.

Good that they are excited for some extra special training and running all my errands while I forge us some gear that will help put a god down.

____________________________________________________________________________

Kuga grinned while we worked the forge, folding curses of enfeeblement into the steel pike heads that would later be greased with a nasty magical pain poison. Nothing too spicy to overcome my impressive poison immunity, but quite spicy nonetheless.

I consecrated each two foot long blade to the death of Tor Goroth and attached them to thick hickory shafts with long langets before wrapping them tightly in leather to protect the shafts from burning.

Pro tip. Wear leather and wool if you are afraid of plane crashes. Most deaths in a plane crash are due to the plane catching fire and leather and wool are very fire resistant. Because of this the only time leather armor is a best practice is when fighting Dragons or Balrogs. Also keep your feet moving as fire needs time to transfer heat.

All this info bummed Kuga out, who donned the title Flame of War after getting the secrets of Fire Weapon enchanting from the Machine Tribe. From there we quickly discovered how to master fire weapons and how to ward against fire. Fucking handy that. Kuga would be my favorite son if he wasn't such a dipshit pyromaniac.

I had to deliver too many swift kicks to the pants on this kid, but at least the sizzling of bacon hypnotizes him enough to stop swinging his flaming axes around.

God help me when he gets together his brother, Uthog the Drake Hammer, and the pair start chucking molotovs at piles of fresh shrahk. Gives the wargs a funny scare but burning shit stinks. Once they became resistant to fire it didn't matter how many times I rubbed their noses in it. Fucking savages make me grateful for their eventual betrayal.

Spring and summer passed with more of Nurn falling under my active influence. My forces hovered around twenty two hundred Uruks built up from reeducated captures and fresh spawns and trimmed down by just how unsafe Mordor is.

Torgog keep traveling back and forth between home and Cirith Ungol to throw 'Lightning Bolts' at Talion. I don't know if he reads my messages which have mostly become me bragging about my sexual exploits with my three enslaved mistresses. In my last one I gave him ideas of role plays to do with the she-elf I heard he occasionally travels with.

Here's to hoping he passes it to her and she gets interested in coming to see me. I am sure the artists rendition of my glorious bronze cock will draw her in like a moth to the flame.

As fall approached a messenger bearing Sauron's command appeared, summoning me to Gorgoroth to participate in the domination of Tar Goroth. I know a suicide mission when I see one.

Good times.