Azog was never favoured by life. That was the first thing he learned ever since he opened his eyes and took his first breath.
Being born as a lesser chieftain's son, he was raised and lived just like any other orc for many years. It was on the coldest night of that winter, wind blowing furiously outside, food and animals very little, when Urzog's mate went into a long, excruciating labour. After more than 5 hours of trying in vain to push the whelp out of her, the others decided that it was too big for her to handle. Urzog grunted his displeasure when one of the few orc females, Sharga, suggested that the mother should be cut open in order to save his progeny's life. But he couldn't risk loosing his chance of finally having a son, an heir. Though he had no throne for him to inherit, Urzog's obsession grew with each passing year. Many females gave him orclings, indeed, but they were all daughters. Not a single son. So he killed them all out in blind rage.
After his approval, Sharga cut the female's intimate zone with a long, sharp dagger, leaving her scream and, eventually, die out of blood loss. But before that could happen, she managed to push the little creature out of her body. Sharga took the orcling in her arms, cleaning the blood off its face. At first, they thought it was dead, for it didn't utter a sound. Only after a few minutes the orcling managed to cry like a normal baby would do.
"What is it?" Urzog demanded, feeling his blood boiling thinking of the possibility of having another daughter. But Sharga only smirked as she turned her head to her leader.
"You have a son."
And truly, he had a son. It was only when he got a closer look that he turned dark and almost killed him. His son, his firstborn, looked so much different from how an orc should. He had a milky-white skin, no malformation on it. His eyes were icy-blue and despite his body size, he looked weak.
He killed a few of his orcs out in rage, leaving Sharga watch in awe, his son wrapped in her arms. But after he calmed down, she suggested in a shy and fearful voice, that he should give his son a chance, let him live. She continued reminding him how much he desired a son, and he had finally got one.
So Urzog thought, looking at the little monster that became a murderer even before being able to hold a weapon, and, after many curses and threatenings, he decided to give him the chance.
There was a problem though: his mother died, and there were no other females available to nurse him. Urzog thought he would die of hunger anyway. And he might have not cared, he could have simply walk away and let him starve. Yet, Sharga was right. He desired a son, for many years, and he finally got him. He couldn't risk killing him.
He thought. He thought about how he was supposed to keep him from dying, what he could put into his mouth. Then, he suddenly remembered that his warg, Luna, gave birth recently to a litter of 5. So he ordered his orcs milk her, which ended up with many orcs torn apart in her huge jaws.
They put the milk into a bowl and Sharga forced it into the orcling's mouth, having him lap the warg milk. And he ate greedily and cried for more very often. They had to milk the warg female at least 6 times a day to keep the whelp's stomach full.
"You should name your son." Urzog heard Sharga's voice as one of the orcs struggled to feed him.
He huffed and snorted, having no idea how he could find a proper name of an Elfspawn like that. And in all honesty, he did not care very much, orcs never cared of such things. And after a few seconds, he spoke firmly.
"Azog"
And Azog he was called. He grew up fast and fierce, his first years being just like a normal orc's. Once he was old enough to hold a weapon, he was forced to train everyday for hours. Many times he was kicked down and beaten up whenever he didn't dodge the attack or when his attacks were too weak to match his opponent's. He was taught the unmerciful ways of killing and fighting. He watched his father torturing those who disobeyed, he watched orcs and slaves dying, and he felt nothing. Nothing at all.
He was taught respect by his father who ruled over his tribe with an iron fist, being punished or whipped merciless whenever he caused unnecessary trouble.
Like in any other orc tribe, he had no one to care for nor anyone who cared for him. If he wanted to live, he had to fight for it.
He was pretty fond of the warg that saved his life, Luna, though, in his dark, orcish manners. She was a great warg with crimson fur, the biggest and the fiercest he had ever seen. And she was his father's, his very own warg.
Azog learned how to ride one after many unsuccessful attempts, gaining bites, scratches and lots of insults from the others. The wargs were wild and he had no experience in riding or training them. But he eventually got it right, later attending one of the hunting parties.
During his early years, he bowed his head before his father but more importantly, he learned to bow his head before Ogrumbu. No matter what. Ogrumbu was the orc chieftain Urzog served under. He was a great orc, having a whole legion of hundreds, thousands, under his command. Whenever he visited their territory or when they went to visit him, Azog had to bow his head. When he demanded something, Azog had to bow his head. When they returned from hunting parties and brought trophies, he had to bow his head.
If his father was bad, then Ogrumbu was a living nightmare for Azog. Many times he had him whipped or beaten up in 3 to 1 combats, for his own entertainment. He had to endure the torments, though he fought back as much as he could, looking up to him and his father from time to time. Urzog did nothing to stop what lied before his eyes. He only warned Ogrumbu not to kill him, for he was his only son.
Azog prostested many times, but eventually got used to it. He learned that if he stayed on the ground and knelt before Ogrumbu, the pain would cease faster.
As years passed, their camp moved from Ettenmoors, the place where he was born, to east, having numerous conflicts with the wooden Elves over the terriory, then to south, only to get to north and back to Ettnermoors again.
They all grew used to the climatic changes and the new enemies they had to fight.
By the time he reached his teenage years, Azog was more and more stubborn always arguing with those around him, defying orders, having grown to massive dimensions, now almost as tall as his father. He trained day and night, overpowering all his opponents in battle and strategy. No one dared to speak the name of "Elfspawn" or other insults anymore, as he killed anyone who did. He was a vicious killer by now, having no mercy or love in his heart.
He could remember how he went on his first raid with his father. He saw the houses burning along with people who screamed and ran. He saw people and people crushed by their maces, even by his own. He watched them crying out in fear, shaking from head to toe. He killed anyone who stayed in his way, just like he was taught, and he found that the adrenaline rush in his veins made him feel excited for more.
There he raped for the first time. He found her in the tent by accident, a young, frail, beautiful girl with dark brown hair. Her eyes were red and swollen due to crying, her chin quivering as she held her knees to her chest. She screamed when she saw him, and scremed even louder when he walked up to her. He simply grabbed her and flipped her over, forcing her to stay on her knees and palms. She begged and cried and fought back with all her strength, and it intrigued Azog at first. Rape did not exist in the orcs' world. Wether he or she liked it or not, the weaker orc had to submit to the stronger one and eventually enjoy the coupling. Orc females never screamed or kicked, if they did so it was only thanks to the pleasure.
Being stunned at first he let go of her, watching her body trying to crawl away. He soon regained his composure and kicked her to the ground, and as he pulled up her dress, he ignored her pleas and cries. He took her mercilessly, finding pleasure in such a frail, thin body.
When he finished, he pushed her away and walked out of the tent, allowing his fellow orcs take her as well.
He walked proudly towards his father, placing a few severed heads at his feet, along with other treasures. Urzog, however, seemed rather unimpressed, a smirk that angered Azog, upon his face.
After that one, raids became one of his favourite things to do, taking more and more entertainment in fighting those weak men, more and more pleasure in raping the women, laughing darkly at their begs, and more and more pride in collecting their useless scraps.
For Urzog became harder and harder to control his son, who was now fully grown, just as tall as he was, and a never ending lust for violence and blood. He was a skilled warg rider, a good tracker and a strategical fighter, feared greatly by their orcs and enemies alike. He was indeed worthy of being his heir, but the attitude annoyed and angered him. He didn't bow anymore nor shut his mouth when being yelled at. Instead, he yelled back, looking as if he was about to start a fight. He let him be for a while, keeping an eye on him.
It was in one cruel, cold winter, with little food and provisions. They were on the road, moving their camp to Ettenmoors, some of their orcs and wargs already dying due to hunger and tiredness.
Azog walked around the camp insepcting the situation carefully. He couldn't just stay there, watching their orcs die one by one. So he burst into his father's tent, who was mounting a woman that looked more dead than alive. He let out a growl at the sight of his son, and pulled out of the woman, almost throwing her out of the tent.
"What do you want?" Urzog asked him in a cold voice.
"They're dying out there. We're all dying! We have to stop and search for a village, we can get resources and-"
"We stop when I say so! We raid when I say so!" he was cut off by his father's deep voice. He sneered and clenched his teeth.
"We'll never make it to Ettenmoors!" he almost yelled as he tried to knock some sense into Urzog. But he simply growled under his breath as he walked towards him threatening.
"We will if I say so! No raids! No stops! Understood?" he raised his tone and Azog frowned. His father clearly must have lost his minds.
Instead of yelling and fighting, he tilted his head in a cynical way.
"As you command..." and with that he stormed out of the tent.
He wasn't going to let the pack die, so he simply took a warg and ordered half of the pack to come with him. At first they cringed and looked at each other unsure. But they gave in at the dark look on Azog's pale face. He was their leader, afterall. And though it meant disobeying Urzog, they mounted their wargs and took off in the forest, listening to his commands.
They pillaged the first village they found, Azog's mace swinging furiously, many victims finding their end by it. He ordered each small group to split up and circle the village. Soon enough, the men were trapped, very few managing to escape.
Azog's roar was above them all, as he led his first raid all by his own.
They took everything they needed, lots of food, whine, weapons, Azog returning victoriously to the camp. Surely his father would be proud, finally he would realise what he is capable of, he thought. But his expectations were quite the opposite to what happened. Urzog burst to him, angrier than ever, hitting him with all his force in the face. He lost his balance and fell to the ground after a second hit with the foot.
"How dare you defy my orders?!" Urzog yelled in blind rage, making all the other orcs recoil.
He had Azog whipped for his stupidity, his alabaster back now stripped. He endured without much complains; he would not ashame himself more than he already did.
Then he was let to starve, watching the others eat what he fought fearless for. How unfair, he thought. He was eating only the leftovers and licked the bones from the others' meals, and just like it wasn't already enough, he wasn't allowed to sleep in his own tent anymore and forced to train relentless until his legs shook under him, exposing him to the many hits the others had been ordered to deliver. During those cold nights, he found warmth only in Luna's thick fur but it wasn't enough.
Pretty soon his legs were shaking, his fingers and toes were aching and then got numb because of the cold. A week of this. A week in which he almost lost his life, having lost almost 20 kilograms, his ribs visible whenever he drew cold breaths.
And the moment he saw Urzog smirking at him while spoiling himself with a cup of whine, he lost it. Snarling and growling he grabbed his mace and swung it to the orcs he used to train with. He killed one of them aback, breaking his spine, and the other one by breaking his neck with bare hands.
His breathing was heavy as he eyed dangerously those around him, including his father. They all recoiled and gave him their portions of food and alcohol, and it was then Urzog understood what kind of orc Azog had become. He was his heir, and he would become even greater than that.
Since that day, no one ever dared to object anything in front of Azog. They feared him more than they feared Urzog for now he was stronger than any of their kind, proofing his bravery and strength with each occasion.
And he was prouder and prouder with each passing day, having everyone's respect. He gained weight again and his relation with Urzog returned to normal.
When they got to Ettenmoors however, Ogrumbu was already waiting for them.
As they walked in a small building made out of stone with big halls and some sort of throne, Urzog got on his knees, bowing his head. Ogrumbu raised his eyebrow when he noticed Azog still standing up. After a growl and a few mumbled curses, he sat on one knee, at last, showing his respect to his leader.
Then they drank and laughed and discussed plan battles as well as other less important things. Azog kept pretty quiet, not enjoying his company at all, and besides, there was one of Ogrumbu's orc slaves that eyed him curiously. He stared back a few moments and almost chuckled when the orc's muddy-red eyes flickered in other direction for fear that he might be executed for his impudence.
As his ears focused on Urzog's and Ogrumbu's discussion, he felt deeply insulted.
"Your son seems to know respect and fear no longer. How much will it take until he cuts your throat in your sleep?" Ogrumbu smirked.
"He won't," Urzog assured him, "He ain't got the courage to do it. What would he be without me?"
Azog approached them and narrowed his eyes as well as a growl erupted from his throat. His reaction, however, only seemed to amuse Ogrumbu as he laughed.
"Isn't your father right, pale orc?" he inquired retorically.
"No. I have greater goals to archieve than ending unimportant lives that would make no difference." Azog spoke lazily.
"Like what?" Ogrumbu smirked as he walked a few steps towards him.
After a long pause, the pale orc allowed a grin upon his face as he raised his chin with pride speaking frimly.
"Having your filthy head separated from shoulders."
His words reverberated in the room and even when Ogrumbu boiled with anger, he did not regret what he said. He had enough. He would defeat him in a fair battle, they both knew. But they both also knew a fair one would never happen.
"I see..." Ogrumbu spoke calmly. "Myabe it's time you learned your place. On your knees, whore!" he ordered and Azog's eyes grew wider. Now he understood that he shouldn't have said what he said. He would be mounted like a whore by that scum bag in front of them all. The wisest decision was to do as commanded and shut his mouth. Yet, he found himself still standing up on his toned feet, glancing his enemy.
"Any problem, Elfspawn?" he heard those words driving him mad. And in a moment of blind foolishness, he pulled his dagger our and tried to stab the orc, but his wrist was grabbed and squeezed.
"I guess not..." he said, and Azog's blood froze as he was hit square in the face, the collision between it and Ogrumbu's mace's grit breaking his nose instantly. He stumbled bacwards and was brought down to the floor by the excrutiating pain in the torso. He heard his lower ribs crack when smashed with the mace again, and hit with the foot in the stomach. He lied on the ground breathless, black blood pouring out of his nose and mouth as he coughed up blood. His ribs impaled his right lung, leaving him gasping desperate for air. Under normal circumstances, he would have stayed down, accept his defeat, but instead he raised on shaky legs only to recieve yet another hit. He hit the ground with a thud and shook his head to chase dizziness away. Then he once again tried to get up, but Ogrumbu hit him a few times with his foot before pushing him down firmly.
"Stay down, you fool! Stay down! " Urzog mumbled to himself.
His vision blurred and his ears caught the ringing in his head as he was flipped on his back. Ogrumbu rested his foot on his chest, pressing firmly, and he cried out in pain as he felt his ribcage as if being opened. He kicked and tried to push him away but it was to no avail. He tried to reach for his dagger, but Ogrumbu pushed it away with a sadistic laugh.
"Now, Elfspawn, I hope you learned your lesson, and place!". Those were the only words Azog could distinguish, as he was barely conscious anymore. He was sure that would be the end, dying like a common slave. If the mace didn't, then the lack of oxygen or the internal bleeding would kill him. He glanced around, spotting Urzog who was watching with a somewhat concern, and the orc that stared at him. It looked like he was almost sorry for him and it made Azog almsot laugh.
At last, Urzog's voice reached his ears and he never thought that he would be so relieved to hear his father.
"Now remember that he is my heir, my only son. I'd like him alive if you don't mind."
And with that Ogrumbu huffed and released him. He said something, but Azog couldn't hear anymore. He gasped for air as he coughed, choking and spitting blood. He tried to get up, pushing his elbows against the ground, but collapsed with a grunt of pain.
"How unfortunate, isn't it Efspawn?" Ogrumbu chuckled and sat on his throne again. Urzog's glance had him rolling his eyes as he spoke.
"Yazneg, go help him..."
And with those words Azog spotted the orc with red eyes coming over with another orc following.
As soon as they approached and tried to help him up, he jerked away, grunting and hissing as he tried to raise by his own. The pain shot through his body like an arrow and forced him down again as he was almost crying.
"Don't make it more difficult for you." Yazneg told him quietly as he grabbed his right arm, whle the other orc grabbed his left one. Azog accepeted the help, at last, only after he fell unconscious, the 2 orcs carrying his colosal weight outside the throne room.
The 2 orcs dragged him through the halls and then, through the camp, all the way to the pale orc's tent.
Their boots' leather was now covered in thick snow, melting at the heat of the torch they lit so Azog's body would not be affected by hypotermia.
They placed him down as careful as they could, but he almost collapsed with a thud.
Yazneg ripped the leather clothe that covered his chest, grunting at the sight of the broken ribs; it looked like they almost perforated the skin. He had to put them back together and then tend to the other wounds as well. And he was rather grateful that the orc was still uncounscious for he knew it would hurt like hell.
He told the other orc to bring him what he needed, and while he did as told, Azog woke up with a few muffled moans of pain. He eyed his surrounding but the vision was still blurred and his brain couldn't focus on an element for more than 3 seconds.
But he managed to distinguish the 2 shapes who were now speaking and gesticulating. One of them was clearly adressing to shim, leaning his head over his, but it was all unclear. Until they started. And when they did, he felt a quiver of arrows piercing through him, a torch lighting up his organs, a sword being twisted in his flesh; and he scremed and twiched and kicked as Yazneg pressed his hands against his ribcage, putting the broken bones back where they should be.
"Hold him down!" Yazneg told the other orc and he quickly accomplished, gettin ahold of Azog's hands and holding them firmly.
And yet, the orc was powerful, even like that he almost overpowered him. But eventually, after moments and moments of pure torture, Azog's vision blurred once again, his ears started ringing, his breathing stopped, and he fell uncounscious.
It took 3 days for him to come around again. He opened his eyes lazily, and almost wanted to go to sleep again. He felt his torso heavy with each breath he took, and only after he moved his right arm and felt the sharp pain in his sore body, he remembered what happened. He blinked a few times, clearing his vision, and stared up at the ceiling. He tried to put pieces up together, trying to realise how long it had been since he was sleeping. When did he fell uncounscious?
He decided not to force his brain anymore and threw the covers above him aside, growling a little due to the pain. He was a little confused when he realised that he was completely naked. His wounds were stitched and bandaged. So someone did help him. It was only who he could not recall.
Outside was freezing, so his body was, so he covered himself again, looking around. His clothes weren't there, nor his weapons were.
A few seconds of agitation from him followed, soon stopped by the heavy steps of another person walking towards the tent. And when he stepped in, Azog recognised him. It was the red-eyed, the orc that dragged him out of that torture scene.
He suddenly stopped and stared down at the injured orc he took care of for 3 days. And the orc stared up at him as well. After a few moments, however, the red-eyed orc sketched a smile as he walked towards a small wooden table where a few things were placed.
"Feeling better already?" he asked as he took a bowl.
"Who are you? Why am I here? Where is Urzog?" Azog demanded as he twiched, trying to find a comfortable position. The orc however, seemed uninterested, almost ingnoring him.
"I asked you something!" he spoke in a loud, dark voice. He spoke to him and he ought to be answered.
The orc returned with the bowl in one hand, raw meat chopped up in tiny pieces resting inside. He handed Azog the bowl before speaking.
"I am the one who saved your life. You're in your tent in case that you can't tell anymore, because you are wounded. Urzog is on a hunt. Anything else you want to know?"
Azog took the bowl and sniffed it curiously. He could tell it was boar; not his favorite, but his stomach felt empty. He was more interested in what the orc said, though.
"You saved me?", he almost pouted in disbelief and the orc nodded. Indeed, he saved him. He got him out if there, he took care of his wounds, he looked after him day and night, put food into his mouth and poured water down his throat. Yet, Azog's pride was too big to admit that someone such as a slave saved his life.
"You did not. Why are you even here?" he snarled as he scoffed some of the meat. He was indeed starving. Azog did not show any respect for the one who helped him out.
"I vouched for you!" the orc frowned and Azog's eyes grew wider.
"You vouched for me?" he said incredulous. Surely, it hadn't been like that. He would have known. But in all honesty, he was barely drawing breath anymore when that happened. He frowned as well and growled almost inaudible. "Urzog stopped the fight. He told Ogrumbu to stop, not you!" he said angily.
The orc shook his head and spoke slowly.
"That was after I suggested that you should live. I said it would be a pity and an unnecessary loss, killing a great orc such as yourself.". And the orc was speaking the truth. Azog's ears couldn't catch the voice that said these words, while Ogrumbu's did. Only then Urzog spoke and he was spared.
Still, he couldn't believe such words. It would be a shame, being saved by a common slave. Did he get that low? Instead of thanking him, he almost pushed him away, growling and snarling. He felt miserable by all means.
"Where is Ogrumbu now?" he demanded.
The red-eyed walked a few steps bacwards as he answered.
"He left for the south." his words came out as a huff. Azog was clearly growing nervous.
"And he left you here with us? I thought little pets are kept close by their master's fee-" his cynical words were interrupted by the orc's annoyed ones.
"I was left here to help you. I vouched for you, I dragged you out of that torture, I put your damn ribs back together and took care of you instead of returning to my master. Like it or not, you're alive thanks to me."
Azog's jaw almost dropped at his words. How dare he cut him off like that? Didn't he know in front of who he was standing?
And the orc almsot fell to his knees at Azog's dark look. He realised it was pure impudence to talk to a leader like that.
"Apologies... I didn't mean to-"
"No you didn't. And you will not do it again!" the pale orc snarled. The orc only nodded frenetically.
After that, he ordered him to get out, and while he hurried outside, Azog stopped him again with yet another question.
"What is you name?". He was obviously going to spend some time with the orc from now on and he reckoned that he should at least know what to call him by.
"Yazneg." he answered shortly and left.
It took 3 weeks for Azog to fully recover, and over a month for him to attend a hunt. In those 3 weeks his patiente grew thiner and thiner, as he wanted to step outside, grab his mace and fight, bark orders, ride on a warg or simply entertain hinself with whine and women. But he couldn't do any of these for a while. He got bored pretty quickly. Being alone with no one to talk to became disturbing even for him.
Yazneg was the only one he had to speak with. He checked on his wounds, though Azog protested and yelled at him. He brought him food whenever the pains returned, leaving him unable to move.
Azog got to learn quite a few things about the orc. He was only 19, a frail age for an orc, and he was born in Foronchel. He knew a lot of political things and alliances. Ogrumbu often spoke aloud his plans and ideas. He told Azog where he had travelled, what he saw and who he met. He told him everything he knew about Angmar, though Azog had been there a few times, and beyond. One place caught Azog's attention and interest though: Gundabad. Yazneg told him that it was an ancient land of the dwarves, ruled by the Durins, with a big fortress dug up in the mountain, protecting the vast kingdom.
He was also told about the battles he already knew but from a different perspective. He was surprised to find out that the orcs in Foronchel had a different culture from them. They had alliances with men and other tribes, one thing Azog despised.
"We do not need other races to help us. We win our battles by ourselves and take care of our own." he told Yazneg after recieving the information.
"How many battles have you witnessed?" Yazneg said blankly,making Azog realise that he was right. He had never witnessed a real battle, a war.
When Urzog returned from his hunt, he yelled at his son, disciplinating him. Azog ignored most of his father's insults and remained neutral during the whole argument. That night, Azog was put in a dark mood, ignoring everything around him. Yazneg tried to cheer him up a little, bringing him a bota of alcohol. He looked at him confused as he accepted the gift.
"Where did you get this?" Azog inquired a little unsure.
"I stole it.." Yazneg shrugged and Azog smirked. After that, he was brought food and the red-eyed walked towards the tent's exit. He was stooped by Azog's cough, clearly trying to say something. He stumbled across his words at first, and, while looking in other direction, he mumbled almost inaudible.
"Gratitude..."
As weeks passed, he was back on his feet again, walking around the camp, often accompanied by Yazneg. He started to ride again on the wargs and after another week went on a hunt with the pack.
His wounds were fully healed by now, his bones sutured almost perfectly. He got back to training and once he asked Yazneg to train with him. He expected to put the short orc down with 1 or 2 hits, but he proved to be a skilful fighter despite his age, putting up a good fight.
As spring came around they moved their camp down the mountain. They raided a village on their way, which ended up succesful, and Azog fucked the first girl he saw. After over 2 months, he was eager to mate with anyone and anything, and it amused those who watched and cheered greatly.
Then, Ogrumbu came to visit, an unexpected arrival which got Azog pretty nervous after the last incident.
When they went to meet him, he made his intentions clear, telling Urzog that he wanted half of his pack for an expedition. Of course, it made both Urzog and Azog angry to hear such demands, and while Azog was about to decline, Urzog accepted and gave him the orcs.
Ogrumbu expressed his surprise to see Azog still alive and even more surprised he was when he walked up to him, Yazneg by his side.
"I want to buy him." Azog said firmly and Ogrumbu raised one eyebrow.
"You wish to buy a common slave? Why?" he laughed.
Azog simply snorted.
"That's not your business." and with that he took a pouch full of coins and threw it at the orc's feet.
"I'll send 3 whores as well as whine we've got from raids."
Yazneg was just as shocked as Ogrumbu was. Azog was paying so much for him, a slave.
At last, Ogrumbu accepted, and Azog turned on his heels nudging Yazneg into walking.
"Why did you do that?" he asked still stunned and in shock.
Azog grunted a little. He would not admit that he was grateful for what he had done for him.
"I simply want you by my side. You seem to be trustful and useful... in you own ways." and the tone in his voice told Yazneg that it was the end of the discussion.
A couple of years passed without any major events. Their pack was now much smaller, but they were doing quite alright. Until they weren't.
While Urzog completely ignored the fact that they had to pay tribute to Ogrumbu, more and more with each passing year, Azog did not miss the details. The pack was growin weaker and weaker, and soon enough the territory started to be occupied by other races.
He couldn't stay aside and watch how they were all going to self destruction. He tried to speak with Urzog. And he was coldly rejected. He tried to knock sense into him and it did no good.
It was one night, as they travelled, when they were attacked by a small pack of orcs. They defeated them quickly, gaining only a few wounds. Azog noticed a rider that managed to escape and called for Yazneg, who, without any instructions, shot an arrow into the orc's back, killing him. Azog walked up to the corpse, and, after flipping him over, saw the mark that saved them. He was wearing the same mark as Yazneg on his cloaks. He was Ogrumbu's.
"He wants to kill us! Don't you see? We have to do something if we don't want to end up with our throates slit open!"Azog yelled at his father when they got into the tent.
"He won't! We're allies, I'm faithful to him." Urzog mumbled as he poured some whine.
Azog grabbed the cup and threw it aside, leaning over to his father, now being way taller than him, as he spoke under his breath.
"Have you lost minds? We are all going to die, in Morgoth's name!"
Urzog frowned and scoffed as he raised onto his legs, now facing his fully grown progeny. His words had Azog stunned in utter shock.
"If we are to die, we will die. It's not up to you."
Azog leaned even closer to his progenitor, and spoke in a voice that sent a shiver down Urzog's spine.
"You will do something, or I will!" and with that he stormed out.
He knew Urzog wouldn't, so it was all up to him. There must be a way. And as he shared his thoughts with Yazneg, the orc's words gave him an idea.
"Maybe we could find another place..?"
And that is when he remembered about the stories he heard. The great place he desired. Gundabad. It was perfect, a great kingdom that could hold legions within. There was only one problem: it belonged to the dwarves. It he wanted to have it, he would have to fight for it and he didn't have enough orcs. But others did.
An enthusiastic, hopeful look upon his pale face as he walked out,
"Get everyone ready from my command. We're leaving by the crack of dawn."
And so they did. He let a few loyal orcs for his father so he would not die. Then he petted Luna's huge head and, clenching his teeth, he mounted her. She was indeed a huge warg, hard to control, but he trusted her just as much as she trusted him.
They took off in the forest and on their way they met with many leaders, seeking for support fir this expedition. Many refused, thinking that it was stupid. Indeed, it was stupid, Azog knew. But now there was no going back.
There were a few great leaders that seemed interested in this quest, and eventually decided to help them out.
And so they travlled for almost 4 months and it took them 6 to have all the plans ready.
And when they did, they struck the dwarves strategically. They fought fearless and killed many of them having lots of their own killed as well. They've got unexepected help from another pack of orcs during the final days of battle, and eventually, it was over.
Azog conquered Gundabad. He did it, and he felt pride swelling within.
He had an injured shoulder and leg, but it meant nothing at all at the sight of the throne which now belonged to him.
But his pride and cellebration would not last,for Yazneg returned to him, informing that Ogrumbu was already on his way. Azog felt his blood boiling with anger. He was coming to kill him.
As hard and unfair as it was, he had to leave Gundabad, followed by those who decided to help him and find refuge in the forests.
Ogrumbu was mad with anger when he found the kingdom empty. The Elfspawn escaped him once again. He was ready to kill him, and he missed the chance. He disobeyed his orders, and he would pay for what he had done.
So he called for Urzog, knowing that he would come. And his antcipation was right. He arrived a few weeks after he sent his message to him. And as soon as he walked past the doors in the throne room, Ogrumbu had him beheaded, swift and fast.
Much fury and hate Azog felt when he recieved his father's head as a "gift" from his enemy. It wasn't as if he cared for him, but his pride was now tainted. He swore to have revenge for what he had done, but that would mean years and years of planning. Just like it had been.
The other orc leaders expressed their doubts and decided that they would fight no longer against Ogrumbu, so Azog killed them, taking their orcs under his command. For over 10 years he recruited orcs, taking care of his own as well. Now all decisions belonged to him, for now he was the leader. He kept the growing pack alive, living his life just as usual but with a mad lust for revenge.
He returned to Ettenmoors, evetnually, his birthplace, almost having forgot and given up to his past plans, when he recieved a message from the East. There were 2 orcs that offered him their help, but desired to speak with him in private.
So he went to East, where he was led to the 2 leaders. Lug and Lurog, the brothers of the East they were called. They both looked repulsive, covered in scars, desfigurated and damaged. They were both strong and tall, Lurog almsot competing Azog's size.
"We've heard of your plans, Pale Orc. We know your intentions and plans. But why?" Lurog asked with a tricky smirk upon his face.
So Azog had the patiente to tell them, being well treated with whine, food and women. They had a great legion, hundreds, Azog would certainly want to have by his side.
"And if we do help you with your little cause, slaying Ogrumbu and taking Gundabad... What will happen next?" Lurog spoke again after listening carefully.
"Join me, " Azog started, "And you will be my allies, you will have a kingdom, and we shall see them trembling to behold us." he spoke proudly and firmly.
The brothers approached him, move that made him unseasy at first.
"You are one hell out of a stubborn brat, you know?" Lug laughed, same reaction coming from Azog.
"I am the son of Urzog, the ruler of Ettenmoors and the future king in Gundabad. I will slay any that stay between me and my goals including you!" he smirked.
Lurog patted him on the shoulder as a delighted look took over his face.
"He's a fighter. I like it, brother." his words triggering hope as well as annoyance in Azog.
"We're ready to go."
So Lug and Lurog joined forces with him, travelling all the way back to Ettenrmoors. There they were about to find out that another orc, Grúru along with his pack, and other small orc packs had come to aid help.
Weeks of planning and recruiting until they were a whole legion, an army, ready to fight and die for their cause. Azog walked in his tent and twiched nervous. The biggest fight in his life was about to come. It wasn't a battle anymore. It was a war.
He looked in a shattered mirror, a dirty, rusty piece of reflecting glass. He frowned at the sight of his pale, human face. He had enough of their insults, enough of their everything. He took his dagger out and drew the first line across his horrific face, cutting deep in the skin. He watched as blood streamed down his face, the face he hated so much, the face that brought him so much shame, and then started to trace his chest as well, and the his back, and his arms, and eventually his tights. He felt adrenaline rushing through his torn veins as he stood there, growling and watching himself bleed.
He then walked outside watching everyone who were now staring at him, at his scars. There was a utter silence as he mounted Luna and nudging her into walking. He looked at their faces, shocked faces, unsure faces, scared faces and angered faces.
"Elfspawn I was called!" he yelled, so everyome could hear him, "They called me a weak useless Elfspawn! I had enough of that! Enough the pride has been overlooked! Now I will have justice! And that dog's filthy head! I conquered Gundabad, I took it from the dwarves, and mine it shall be! For too long our race has been living in ruin! We shall have that mighty kingdom, and ours shall be!" he watched as many of them nodded and approved. "I shall have you as my allies, we shall see legion at our feet! Men, elves and dwarves!" he raised his tone as they started to cheer.
"You are my legion, my army! And you shall fight by my side!" he yelled again as more cheers and approvals came from the crowd. A pause followed in which he watched blood dripping in Luna's fur.
"Yazneg," he called aloud and the orc stepped forward, "I name you my lieutenant and my word shall be order for you!"
At his words, Yazneg fell on one knee, bowing his head to the ground. Azog watched him as he stopped Luna. Bowing was a respect long forgotten by orc culture, and yet he was showing it to him. Then, one by one, the orcs imitated his gesture, leaders and slaves, as Azog stood there proudly on Luna's back as she bared her long, sharp teeth.
Azog led them to Gundabad, but before they could get there, they splitted up. Lug and Lurog went to the East side, Grùru in the north, the other small packs surrounding the mountains, and he was attacking from the front, right through the gates.
The attack was sudden and unexpected as he made his way through the enemies with his pack, stopping Luna at some point and watching Yazneg lead the attack. There was whole massacre as the small bands came down from the mountains, sending scouts ahead, along with wargs that tore orcs apart. Weapons clenched and the battle was going as planned. Grùru came from the north with new reinforcement, and Azog nudged Luna ahead, hitting the confused orcs with full force. He was surpirsed to see that they killed most of them, expecting to see more.
"Is that all?" Yazneg asked as he finished a few kills.
"Yes, we've won!" Grùru shouted from where he was standing. But Azog was sure it wasn't like that. It would have been too easy.
"I don't think so..." he said and seconds later they all watched in awe as Ogrumbu came down from the mountain with hundreds, thousands at his back. They regrouped, but arrows flew above them, killing many of Azog's orcs and wargs alike.
But he would not stand down. He would fight 'till his death if needed. So he roared in anger as he nudged Luna into gallop, Yazneg following him, while Grùru stayed behind to protect the gates.
The clashing was hard, both sides loosing memebers, Azog slaying any that stayed in his way, Luna grabbing and tearing enemies apart. He had his eyes on Ogrumbu.
When their looks met, they both nudged their wargs into running. Azog felt his blood boiling, his muscles tense as he raised his mace, ready to kill that bastard. In a fair fight, he would've won, they both knew. But they also knew it wasn't going to happen, Azog's warg being hit with multiple arrows, making her collapse to the ground along with him. He raised back on his legs and, watching the pleading eyes of Luna, he raised his mace and he smashed her head, putting her out of her misery.
He then turned his boiling look to Ogrumbu who was now waiting for him with a smirk. His orcs were being slayn, Yazneg no longer able to hold them in place. And Ogrumbu was coming straight for him along with his orcs. So that was it. That was where his miserable life would end. He grinned and laughed aloud, incredulous of the reality. Maybe it was time for him to accept his fate. So he waited for his foe, he would take his life away, or die trying.
Right before the impact however, Ogrumbu and his army suddenly stooped, watching with wide eyes whatever might have been laying behind Azog. And as he turned his head, he felt relief and amazement as he saw the 2 borthers coming from East along with their legion and men, Easterlings. They took out whatever might have been left from Ogrumbu's army and, encouraged by the new forces, Azog smashed those around him, mercilessly as he made his way through them. But before he could reach his enemy, he was stabbed in the leg with a spear, and Ogrumbu had just enough time to retreat in the fortress.
Yazneg rushed by his leader's side and pulled the spear out, ripping a roar from Azog. It wasn't because of the pain, it was because of the anger.
"Stay here and take care of them. That one is mine!" he snarled and took off after Ogrumbu. He slayed any that dared stay in his way, and finally recognised the big stone door of the throne room. He pushed it open with no hesitation, but was soon taken aback by 2 of Ogrumbu's guards. One of them got a hold of his shoulders and arms while the other tried to stab him with a long spear. He however managed to kick him with the foot, elbowing the one who was holding him. He was punched and cut with the spear, but he managed to reach for his dagger and cut the throat of that one, before disarming the other one and using his knee to smash his head against the wall.
As he tried to catch his breath, he turned around, spotting Ogrumbu who watched him with an amused face. He took his mace, as saliva and blood dripped off his mouth and nose, and walked up to him. Ogrumbu launched for him, but Azog's ambition gave him the strength to block the attack and smash his nose with the grit of his mace.
As Ogrumbu tried to stay on his legs, Azog hit him with the foot. He dropped his mace to the ground and spitted as he tried to regulate his breath.
He then grabbed Ogrumbu by his throat and lifted him up.
"You are just like your father, and just like Lurog! A useless pathetic Elfspawn!" Ogrumbu growled as he shook his head.
Azog only chuckled, but soon regained composure, straighting his back, a cold, sharp look in his blue eyes, and a voice that made Ogrumbu shiver echoed.
"No, I am not like my father. I am not like Lurog. I am not an Elfspawn. I am far worse than them. I am death!"
And with that, he forced his hand in Ogrumbu's mouth, and pulled his lower jaw, forcing it to open. He gagged and chocked and struggled as Azog ripped his jaw off the face while staring in his eyes. And with that, it was over.
When they got into the throne room, Yazneg and the others saw how Ogrumbu was laying dead on the floor, and his eyes flickered to Azog who was now standing upon on his throne.
Notes: This is the first fic I've ever written, so I would very much appreciate if you would share your oppinion and tell me what you think. I know it has lots of grammar mistakes and mispelled words here and there, but I don't have a beta reader yet, and I didn't have the patiente to correct everything. Anyway, thanks for reading!