Mobilization

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Double release for you, as a thank you for all the support you've shown for my fanfiction.

Due to my work shifts, I will be uploading at 6 pm German time from now on. I hope u dont mind.

Thanks

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Narzug commanded: "Summon Morgash to tend to my wounds. And also bring Tragar, we have work to do... the fires of war will soon ignite, and we orcs have blade work to accomplish!"

The guards hurried off to carry out the orders. Narzug stood in the center of his throne room, his body aching from his battle against Legolas, which he survived but had inflicted countless arrow and dagger wounds. Yet his spirit was strong and determined. He knew the next battle would be crucial for achieving his plans for the future, and he was ready to do anything to ensure its success.

Morgash soon appeared at his side. With skillful hands, he tended to Narzug's wounds while murmuring in the ancient black language. The healing arts of the orcs were raw, but those of the orc shamans were exceedingly graceful and effective. Narzug felt the pain subside and new strength flow into his limbs.

When the treatment was complete, Narzug rose and thanked Morgash with a curt nod. Then he turned and walked with determined steps to his forge. The forge was his realm, a place where fire and steel wrestled to form the tools of war.

The heat hit him as he entered the forge. Narzug grabbed his leather apron and a pair of thick gloves before setting to work. He knew he needed simple but effective weapons and armor for his warriors. Sparks flew, and the sound of hammers on anvils filled the air.

With practiced movements, he shaped the rough iron pieces into swords, spears, and shields. Each piece was carefully inspected and hardened to ensure it could withstand the harsh conditions of battle. The work was arduous, but Narzug was tireless. He worked day and night, his hands becoming calloused and his muscles aching, but he persevered.

After a week of hard work, the forge was filled with weapons and armor. Narzug looked at his work with pride. He had created enough equipment to arm an army of 2,500 orcs. Now it was time to mobilize his warriors and prepare them for the impending war.

He called Tragar to him, the only orc whose name he knew besides Morgash, and who over time had become one of the strongest warriors of the Misty Mountains orcs. Tragar was a small, ugly orc with scars that told of his many battles on Narzug's behalf. In recent months, he had spent much time in the arena and had become an increasingly skilled warrior. "Tragar," said Narzug, "it is time. We have the weapons; now we need the warriors. Gather the orcs and begin the training. We must be ready."

Tragar nodded and immediately began the recruitment. The drums of the misty mountains sounded, and soon the orcs gathered in large numbers on the training grounds. The selection was strict. Every warrior had to prove his strength and determination to be admitted into the army. Narzug and Tragar watched the trials closely and chose only the best.

The training began in earnest. Tragar led the orcs through intensive exercises, trained them in various combat techniques, and ensured they could effectively use the new weapons and armor. The training was brutal but necessary. The orcs had to learn to fight as a unit, to pool their strengths and overcome their weaknesses.

During this time, Narzug held regular assemblies to inspire and motivate his warriors. He spoke of the upcoming battles, of the honor and glory that awaited them, and of the need to be strong and determined. His words resonated with the orcs, and their determination grew. Narzug felt as if he had read the same book on propaganda as Dumbledore, but the results were excellent. Most of the stupid orcs were all fired up for their chief.

The weeks passed, and the army grew in strength and discipline. Tragar ensured that every orc perfected his skills and that the entire unit was ready to face any enemy. Narzug often observed the training from a distance, satisfied with the progress his warriors were making.

Finally, the day came. Narzug received a message via Warg rider from Azog with a rendezvous point at the shore of Long Lake. Narzug's army was ready. Narzug stood before his 2,500 warriors, who stood in ranks on the training ground. They were armed and armored, their eyes glowing with battle lust. Narzug raised his voice to address them one last time.

But let's go back a few days. Of course, Narzug was not idle during the orc training period.

While Narzug's orcs trained intensively, he waited impatiently for a new message from Azog for the joint attack. The first rays of the new day broke over the horizon as he paced back and forth in his throne room, restless and tense. His body was still marked by the scars from the battle with Legolas, but his spirit was stronger than ever. The upcoming battle would be decisive, and he knew that any delay would reduce his chances.

Narzug felt a strange excitement, a mix of fear and anticipation.

Weeks earlier, he had discovered the core feeling of his source—his greed, an insatiable longing for strength and control. This greed drove him, made him restless and determined to achieve his goals. It was this greed that ultimately led him to pester Morgash until he taught him the last secrets of the shamans.

The final step of shamanism: the 'True Devouring'.

One evening, while Narzug was talking to Morgash about the old runes, the shaman explained the next crucial step to him after repeated bagging from Narzug. They sat in a gloomy cave in the sanctuary, illuminated only by the faint glow of a small fire flickering in the center of the room. Morgash's face was etched with deep shadows as he began to speak.

"Narzug," said Morgash in a voice vibrating with wisdom and power, "the power of the shamans is deeply rooted in the world of emotions. Once your source is fully saturated, you must learn to absorb the hole core of emotions from powerful creatures. Just as I once devoured the power of a Cave Troll and thereby gained its physical strength, you too must find powerful creatures and absorb their core. But choose these creatures wisely. Eventually, the body reaches its limits, and you can only devour a limited number of creatures."

Narzug nodded, his eyes glowing with interest and determination. "I understand, Morgash. But how exactly do I perform this ritual? How do I devour a being's core?"

Morgash leaned forward and fixed Narzug with an intense gaze. "It is a ritual of great complexity and danger. First, you must hold the heart of the creature in your hands and recite the ancient incantations in the dark language, which I will teach you shortly. Then you must devour the heart as if it were an artifact, while focusing on the emotions within it that you want to absorb. There will be pain, immense pain, but you must remain strong. Only then will you be able to fully absorb the essence."

Narzug listened attentively and felt the excitement growing within him. He knew that this was the key to his ultimate power. But he also knew that he had to find the right creature to gain the greatest possible power.

One night, while pondering these practices, a new, ambitious plan came to him. He remembered that he would soon have the dead body of Smaug, the mighty dragon who had ruled over Erebor, within his reach. Originally, Narzug had planned to use Smaug's corpse to create an indestructible armor. But now, inspired by Morgash's teachings, he dreamed of devouring Smaug's remains to absorb the dragon's immense power. The idea was tempting and filled him with an enormous desire. His greed flared up.

Narzug decided to change his plan. Instead of processing Smaug's remains into armor, he would absorb the dragon's power directly. This new vision gave him an unyielding determination. He began making preparations by giving a small part of his new army new orders. 'Wait in Lake-town until the dragon falls. Then cut out his heart and bring it, along with some of his scales, to the tunnels and give it to Morgash as quickly as possible.'

Days passed, but the message from Azog was still awaited.

During these days, Narzug lived entirely according to his greed, the core feeling of his source. He had noticed that by satisfying his greed, he advanced the saturation of his source faster than when he meditated and absorbed feelings from the air or devoured artifacts.

The days passed, and Narzug realized that he was close to fully saturating his source. Only a small part was missing, but Narzug realized that without satisfying his new greed for Smaug's heart, he would not achieve full saturation.

Morgash had explained to him that full saturation was the actual starting point for the life of a true shaman.

But also, that after this, every shamanic power was individual and that he had to develop his own abilities and powers without further help from other shamans like Morgash.

During this time, Narzug ensured that the training of his orcs was not neglected. Tragar oversaw the training and ensured that every orc perfected his skills. Tragar led the orcs through intensive exercises and trained them in various combat techniques. The discipline and determination of the orcs grew with each day, and Narzug knew they were ready.

Finally, the day came when Narzug received the Warg rider from Azog. The night was dark and stormy when the Warg rider arrived at the tunnels and handed Narzug a parchment with a short message.

Back to Narzug standing before the ranks of his warriors.

"My brothers!" he shouted. "Today our march into war begins. The fires of war will soon burn, and we will stand at the forefront. We are the blade that cuts through the ranks of our enemies, the hammer that shatters them. We are orcs, and we know no fear!"

A thunderous roar rose from the ranks of the warriors as they absorbed Narzug's words. Their enthusiasm was palpable, their determination unwavering. Narzug felt a bit of pride swell in his chest. He knew they were ready.

With one final, powerful call, Narzug led his army out of the tunnels with the last rays of the setting sun. The drums beat in time with their march, and the earth trembled under their feet. The 2,500 orcs were ready for war, ready to defeat their enemies and gain glory.

Marching beside Narzug, Tragar looked grimly determined into the distance. He knew that hard battles lay ahead, but he trusted in the strength and courage of his warriors. Together, they would crush any enemy who dared to oppose them.

And so they marched, an unstoppable force, ready to ignite the fires of war and shake the world with their battle spirit on their way to meet Azog's armies. The orcs were mobilized, their weapons sharpened, and their hearts full of resolve. The war could begin.