Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor
Prologue
The Uruks sat around a campfire, with the flames illuminating their faces in the darkness. While Uruks could see well at night, there had been a Ghûl assault recently, and any Uruks on guard duty made sure to light fires to ward off any of the scavengers. Uruks weren't usually too afraid of the creatures; as ghastly as they looked, they were diminutive and easily defeated, but their numbers and courage had gone up lately and Ghûl attacks were becoming increasingly common.
Ashgarn's eyes had been trained to see in both darkness and light, and as he crept towards the Uruks, he checked his weapons. They were in place. Ashgarn did not use the makeshift "weapons" that the typical Orc wielded. Ashgarn's sword had been taken from one of the elite warriors of the Nurnen Tribesmen. The sword was high quality and had been cleaned often and used sparingly; its former owner was very cautious with his weapons. The dagger's blade was made of an onyx-black metal, and was enchanted by some sort of magical or mystical energy. Ashgarn still remembered the day he had snatched the item from an ancient Mordor tomb.
The Uruks were oblivious to their fate, chatting about the latest duels and how useless slaves were. Ashgarn crept upon the nearest one, whose was squatting and facing the fire. Ashgarn eyed his exposed back and quickly formulated a plan of attack. Just as the spindly Orc leapt towards the squatting Uruk, a ghostly blue projectile flew into the fire. The fire exploded, propelling the Uruks multiple meters away and showering them with hot coals. The burning corpse of his first target slammed into him mid-air, and Ashgarn crashed into the ground painfully before falling unconscious.