This is Iamwhononofyouare reporting for ff news, we've just received word that chapter three is needed.
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Chapter Three: Dark General
"The Master commands your presence."
If it weren't the Witch-King telling me, I guarantee you I'd snark back at the idiot with a line like, 'The Master demands a lot of things. Good for him.' But as things stood, self-preservation indicated that I should act subservient with my betters.
It didn't take a genius to see that the Witch-King was easily the most capable of the Nazgul, and I was, sadly, on the lower end.
Not my fault, ok? These jokers have had thousands of years to get good at whatever it is evil spirits are good at. I've barely been here a few days. Ok, fine, a few weeks.
So what if my Uruks can form a square and go to line and column formations on command? Magic isn't that easy. Or, at least, it shouldn't be, right?
I mean, really, Gandalf is how many thousands of years old and he can barely stop the sword of a balrog. I wasn't doing so bad against those statistics.
But I digress.
"The Master shall have my presence at once."
With no further dialogue, I rather unceremoniously left my office –where I'd been recreating the game of chess– and hurried across the fortress and up the stairs to where the Palantir was kept.
"Akhorahil, at your service." I greeted easily, struggling to keep the nervousness from my voice. This was the first time since I was given my assignment that I'd been in the presence Sauron.
"In the South of Nurn, certain Men, troublemakers from Khand, have lost respect for the name of Mordor and its Lord. They have raided the Haradrim. Return their hearts to a state of submission, or death."
"Anything else?"
The Eye narrowed in dissent, a clear indication to leave, but still I pressed, "In that case, when I return victorious, I ask that, at that time, you listen to my request."
"What is your desire, General?"
Ah, what a surprisingly good boss. In the movies, the poor misunderstood Sauron never got cast as anything besides evil incarnate. Blergh. I had no doubt he was evil, but he was also a pragmatist, and one of the most knowledgeable beings to grace Middle Earth. Not in the top ten of wisdom, though. Nobody in their right mind willingly gives up what amounts to heaven in exchange for thousands of years of war. Nobody.
Only insane guys like Satan and Sauron do that. Funny, isn't it, that they're so similar? #NotReally. After-all, Tolkien took inspiration from reality.
"I'd have liked to keep it a secret until I accomplished something of at least some worth, but that seems impossible now. What you've done with the horses you graciously granted to me and my brethren is most impressive." I paused here for effect, well, mostly to gather myself for the remaining bit, "My request is simple, if impertinent and ignorant. Without knowing whether you have attempted such a feat before, I ask that you do the same with humans."
"For what purpose would I do this?"
"Well, you see, after the amount of time I've been like this, being unable to touch anyone without killing them has been… disconcerting to my humanity. As for why you should, Lord, I humbly submit this: Why not? What could possibly be a greater achievement than the breaching of established law to bring the spirit and physical realms together?
"For, as you are surely aware, the Dark Horses are quite capable of perceiving spiritual phenomenon, myself included, armor or no."
The Eye seemed pensive at the very least as it answered calmly, "Very well, upon your successful return, I will hear your request."
He hadn't particularly stressed "successful", but he hadn't needed to. The message was clear in my mind. And so would it be to anyone who found themselves in my unfortunate position.
As to the reasons behind my request, they were quite simple. A people capable of seeing and interacting with the higher plane was at once useful and dangerous. They could, potentially, kill me, my brothers in death, and even Sauron himself. I cared less for my continued existence than the other nine who would be endangered by the ascension of this new race. And, thus, by the simplest of reasonings, they were a smart choice.
In addition, in the hundreds of years to come, these people would interbreed with the others humans until only those who could see spirits would remain. At that point, my existence wouldn't be an abomination.
With no further words to my dark master, I left him to whatever it was he did on his own time.
X-X-X-X-X
My forces were disciplined and strong, but they were a slow force, armored and heavy. If the Men of Khand, horseback riders that they were, decided to flip us the bird and go elsewhere until we tired of the chase, then we were just out of luck.
To combat this sad state of affairs, I had a plan. We'd march in smaller parties, close enough to support each other in case of attack, but the Khand, arrogant punks that they were, would assume otherwise. In addition, if this didn't work, I was on my way to ask for some warg-riders from the Witch-King. These would serve as our scouts as we attempted to cut off the enemy's escape.
All of this was based on pitiful assumptions, but I had no recourse.
I was confident in my Uruks' capabilities, both of the mind and body. They were definitely smarter than the average ork. My confidence in myself was low, however. My broadest experience and strategy was RTS video games, and they fell drastically short of the real thing.
There was no bird's eye view for the commander here, no clicking on troops and telling them where to go, no simplified combat. Each person under my command was like a separate division, they all had different stats, different personalities.
That, I suppose, was, is, the point of discipline. To remove as many irregularities as possible to make it easier on the general in charge.
Sad, yes, but necessary. No one has the brainpower, or time, to command five thousand men individually. One has to break the man, and make a soldier.
But before I got too excited, I needed a few things. First, wargriders from the Witch-King. Second, several interpreters. Third, some idea on how to feed my army. I had what, almost 3000 uruks? It wasn't as easy as catch a local chicken and chow chow.
Honestly, I had zero idea. It was next to inconceivable to assume that we'd be able to support ourselves on what I was fairly sure amounted to the Mongolian steppe.
This could turn into a very lengthy operation if the faster Khand refused to give battle. It was necessary to set up a supply base. As for where it would be placed, that would depend on the maps.
X-X-X-X-X
Fortunately, the Witch-King had no shortage of lendable wargriders, and even kept a library filled with dusty tombs and durable scrolls. The books would prove interesting, once I somehow learned to read, but my primary
concern was a map that contained South Gondor, Harad, Khand, Nurn, and whatever was east of all that, if anything was.
Searching through the scrolls, notably made of some sort of animal hide, eventually revealed the necessary piece of equipment. After confirming with the librarian, a very tired and pale looking young man with strange makeup, that there were numerous good copies and that I certainly wouldn't get in trouble for taking it, I retreated to my study.
Or room. Or place where I slept, except I didn't sleep. Why did I even need a room? Sign of status I suppose.
Two things immediately stood out to me. First, Nurn was bigger than Mordor proper by a good bit, and second, Khand was around the same size.
It looked bad, honestly.
Against a more mobile force, heavy infantry only own the ground they stand on. It didn't take a tactical genius to figure that out.
Moreover, the terrain, flat plains, as expected, immensely favored horsemen. Wargriders were unquestionably more agile in the forest and mountains, but horses had a steadfast stamina that a giant wolf could only rarely beat.
Of course, horses were distinctly a prey species, and wargs were apex predators. Some way of manipulating their instinctual fear seemed expedient.
I only had a few wargs, not enough to be everywhere at once. Besides, it wasn't like a proper warhorse with a good rider on it would run in terror from a single warg.
Some way to increase the area covered…
Didn't wolves mark their territory with piss? I mean, I'm no horse, but I might think twice about entering the territory of a warg.
That was a good start, but making the horses a bit skittish wasn't enough to stop their riders.
Of course, if the riders overinterpreted their horses reactions and trusted in their animals' instincts, it could work, but did the Khand have such a convenient way of thinking?
I thought not.
Waging a mobile war against a more mobile, larger, force? Insanity.
Still, our side had something humans and horses didn't: Night-vision.
The wargs would leave piss and fecal matter around to keep the horses constantly nervous. Once the humans got used to this tactic and their horses' behavior, we'd strike in earnest.
The night of a new moon, with clouds. Total darkness. Depending on how noisy the humans were, we'd even have to ditch the armor. We'd surround the camp, and close in stealthily. It would be a slaughter.
X-X-X-X-X
My Uruks were steady, waiting for me to say something from atop my horse. I wasn't one to disappoint.
"You bunch of stinking half-breed curs, do you need a pep-talk?!"
"No sir!"
"Do you need your mommies to come see you off?!"
"No sir!"
"Are you going to fall out of the column?!"
"No sir!"
"Do you want to go eat some man-flesh?!"
"Sir, yes sir!"
That. That, my friends, is an army.
X-X-X-X-X
The first order of business was the march south. A distressingly time-consuming exercise that I won't here relate the details of, due to the immense boredom suffered.
Once we arrived at my Nazgul brother's seat of power, I made the necessary logistical arrangements. From there, we journeyed across the human populated area south of the sea of Nurn, an amazingly green area where farming was conducted. At the designated spot, we set up a base camp, where the supplies would be handled. I left four-hundred Uruks behind to man, or in this case perhaps orc, the fort.
The reason for leaving such a large portion of my force was simple: They would also have to convoy the food out to us. Help against raids would not be forthcoming in a timely fashion.
Long story short, all the soldiers could end up starving very fast if the Khand employed a tactic of any utility.
Frankly, it seemed likely that they would. These weren't the chivalry of Europe, these were Mongols.
But… Hope for the best?
I'm such a pathetic general. A wise man would plan for the worst case scenario.
… I was treating this like the Khand were the AI and I was a human. Of course they're going to be stupider.
But, this wasn't a game. These were hardened warriors who'd raided Gondor. East of the Anduin only, yeah, but Gondor.
Not exactly the time for a dramatic strategy overhaul, no? But maybe I was making this too hard.
'Primitive' people tended to be superstitious. Perhaps my mere appearance would cow them sufficiently.
XXX – Many days later...
I looked up when one of my soldiers, I hadn't bothered to learn their names, announced that riders approached.
There were twelve of them. One carrying a flag, ten with spears in hand, and the front rider, the leader undoubtedly, carried nothing. His horse had plenty, but his hands were empty.
Pretty universal indicator of 'I come in peace but I'm important so I have guards', no?
"Part! Line!"
The Uruks swiftly parted before me as I rode slowly to meet the incoming group. My translator naturally accompanied me.
The Khand… Khandian? I didn't know, but that didn't sound right… Anyway, the obvious leader said something that, as expected, I didn't understand.
"I am Runtang, son of the Lesser Chief of the Variags, Runwich."
Convenient translator, no? Nice that he didn't switch tenses around and just said it like they said it.
"I am Akhorahil, General of the Witch-King's Finest, by order of the Dark Lord Sauron."
I may not have known my daddy's name, but I knew where I got my authority around here.
Still, my dark presence had clearly disturbed the young, admittedly handsome man. I doubted he needed to hear my name and rank to know who sent me.
"Noble One, the Great Chief asks for the reason of your visit."
"A disturbing rumor has come to my master, the Dark Lord's, ears. A whispering tale that speaks of disloyalty and sedition. Surely it is not true?"
He shifted in his saddle uncomfortably, "Of course not, my lord! I would ask thee to allow me to face the ignoble accuser of my people, that I might slay him."
He talks well, doesn't he? Well, maybe to the sensibilities of this era. "The report comes from a place too high for you to challenge, and it seems to me unlikely to be falsehood. Have not your people raided the Haradrim?"
He straightened proudly at that, "The Variags take what we need from whom we need it."
"Right, right. That's also what the Dark Lord does himself, I hear. Trying to take his place, are we?"
"Never! Nonsense! My people know of the terror of the Dark Lord. We would never offend him."
"Runtang, son of Runwich, take me to your leader."
Politics, politics, proper speech and flowery language. Most importantly, carrot, stick, and always talk to the guy in charge.
X-X-X-X-X
The three-hundred Uruks that were in my group naturally came along as my guard, fully alert and still very much armed.
Caution was the name of the game for servants of evil, believe me. Bravery was for idiots like Elendil and Aragorn. In the latter's case, it worked out brilliantly, but anyone and their brother can tell you what happened when the leaders of the Last Alliance fought Sauron. They all died.
And then, Isildur, coward that he was, took the Dark Lord's finger with a low blow.
That's the version you heard in the East, at any rate. I'm sure in the West, the brave Isildur avenged his father using only a broken sword to defeat the Evil Lord of Supreme Darkness Sauron the Terrible. Just sayin'.
My point here? Didn't really have one, but we can twist it around and tell you that I was trying to illustrate propaganda and its propagation in all worlds.
That in itself is a point. There were serious similarities between this world, and my last one.
In addition, this particular story demonstrates the influence of the Dark Lord in the East. He made the history.
To them, the Easterlings, he is the only god.
From that point of view, I was an angel of the Evil God, simply put, a demon.
Not really that far off, honestly, even though the mere thought was offensive. My touch was poisonous, and my words came from an unseen mouth, and spoke only wickedness. Which good person can you show me that appeals to the desire to eat human flesh?
But, on the opposite side, to the Uruks, I'm not such a bad dude. I give them homes and purpose, plenty of empty promises. You know how many votes I'd win in an election for demon-congress?
2500. Because none of my troops knew anyone better to vote for.
And that, my friends, is how you get power. Make yourself the only option.
That's what Sauron did here, through the stick and carrot. Obey me and get loot, rebel and plain die. No-one cares about what happens to you. If you choose to fight for 'good', the 'good-guys' will sit at home drinking ale and never even hear about your little rebellion.
It was a darn effective method. That's why everyone from the Sea of Rhun to Bellakar obeyed the eyeball.
Yup, yup, including my royal self.
No matter how great a guy he was, Gandalf would never accept a wraith. No matter how wise Elrond was, prejudice would command him to smite me. No matter how foolish Radagast was, he wasn't so stupid that the fact that I was constituted of black sorcery would escape him. No matter the insanity of Denethor, he would still command his guard to strike me down. And I knew this.
Sauron also, undoubtedly knew. That was why he cared little for how well he treated Orcs, Goblins, Trolls, Wargs, and Wights. No-one else would even suffer their existence. The humans, elves, and dwarves in his employ received better conditions. Why? Because they had leverage. They could just leave.
My point? Leverage. To improve your conditions, you need to make the other guy think that you're worth it. Or, just make him think someone else will give you a better deal. That right there raises your worth. Economics, supply and demand. If there is only one of me, and there is demand for two of me, I'm suddenly worth around double what I used to be.
Now to apply my fresh lessons in the art of the deal.
We entered the center of the camp made of yurts and tents, and I was immediately impressed by the obvious chieftain's hut. It was twice as tall as any of the other shelters, and while the others seemed somewhat hodgepodge, this one was in perfect order, even the length of the tassels which hung from the rim were uniform.
In the back of the large circular yurt, a man, looking to be in his forties, sat on a raised dais. To either side lining the pathway were armed guards and courtiers. There were two standing men behind the dais, their faces just behind the king's ear. One was fairly young, though he tried to hide it with a thick black beard, and the other was grey, noble in appearance, and very well groomed, though hardly less bearded.
The inside of the yurt probably smelled of sweat and leather, but my senses weren't exactly in powerful working condition.
"I am Akhorahil, I serve the Dark Lord as his General and Emissary to the South." Ok, you're right, I was never appointed 'Emissary to the South', but these guys didn't know that. This was a perfectly riskless way to increase my perceived value.
An official looking man who stood to the right and was third nearest to the king announced, "This is the one called Vichystan, High Chief of the Variags, Raider of the East, Lord of Khand, The Shaven One, Loyal Servant of the Dark Lord."
Now what you mention it, dear herald, Vichystan was bald and wore no beard, unlike every other adult male in this hut. The last bit of the titles, by the way, oh naive ones, can be written off as lip-service.
But it was certainly politically stimulating. The Variags didn't intend to fight Sauron. They'd weighed their options, decided they could get mostly away with it, and raided the Haradrim. If no response came from the doom keeps of Mordor, it would be taken as tacit approval, and they would have continued until it got out of hand.
Wise and aged as he was, however, the deeply mysterious Dark Lord Sauron sent one of the Nine. One of the top twenty feared beings to walk Arda in the present day. And that's conservative, folks.
And the raiders were suitably cowed.
A swift response, a rebellion averted. Slow to punish, short to rule. -Proverbs of Akhorahil.
"As I rode into your camp, Chief Vichystan, I could not help but note the plenty of your people. It was not need that drove you to raid the Haradrim, hmm? But why would the Loyal Servant of the Dark Lord raid one of the Dark Lord's servants? For the Haradrim are famed for Mûmakil taming no more than their loyalty to Sauron, Giver of Rings."
I should have liked to recount that Vichystan and his attendants broke out in cold sweat and the sound of my sarcastic wrath, but sadly their expressions remained as ever.
I wasn't the most fearsome among the Nazgul, you see. That was the Witch-King, and even women and hobbits could face him down. Tough Variag warriors against the unfocused Akhorahil? It was no contest. They'd win, every time.
"The Haradrim are indeed known in the West for answering to Sauron, however, here in the East, men know better. They are disloyal curs who would revolt if given the slightest opportunity. Your humble servants merely nipped their over-plenty in the bud to keep them needy."
This guy was so full of crap I almost felt I should call off my warg-scat project, he had plenty to go around.
"How generous of you… to assume that the Dark Lord does not know the state of his servants. Could it be that you think yourselves wiser than he? Perhaps you are the ones needing nipping."
"My lord we would never!" The entire hall replied, excluding the high chief. He had dignity to maintain here.
But I'm a boundlessly cruel Nazgul overlord, it would be dramatically out of character to let things slide after just a little saber-rattling followed by some bowing ministers. Ever watched Asian historical dramas? The primary job of a minister is to bow and apologize. Seriously.
"Oh, I'm sure you would never… But actions speak louder than words, and whether you did it with such intention or not, what do you think this looks like, hmm?"
Silence greeted me. Bloody tribals.
"It looks like infighting is totally legal amongst the Lord's servants if I let you off this time. No, an example should always be made to dissuade others from becoming rebellious. Tell me, what should the punishment be?"
I half expected them to say something like "please let us off" or "please kill us" or bow or something.
But my other half expected just what happened. The High Chief looked at me with defiance. I could smell the aura in here. The guards were fingering their curved blades. Loot from Harad by the looks of it. I should have noticed sooner, that was a clear political statement.
But all official statements must be made, and I wasn't going to declare war without giving them a way out, "By the power vested in me by Sauron, Giver of Rings, Lord of Mordor, Ruler of the East, the Dark Lord, I hereby declare that the tribes of Khand shall return the full value of whatever they have stolen from the Haradrim and their vassals, and any other servants of the Dark Lord and their vassals, and further stipulate that restitution shall be made for whatever further damages may have been made or furthered by the slaughter of men and animals. Let it be heard and obeyed."
"You ask too much, wraith! Go back to your ghostly halls. The Variags refuse to give back what we have rightfully taken through superior mettle!" Vichystan stood as he declared thus, his face reddening with pure emotion.
And all the others said the same.
"Your refusal has been noted, Vichystan, Ruler of Curs. Don't blame me if there isn't enough of your tribe left to raid a charcoal-burner's hut." With such said, I left the camp.
X-X-X-X-X
Rallying the Uruks was easy, as they'd already received the signal to join into one group. Whatever my former plans were about dividing and conquering, I wanted to at least try a decisive pitched battle first. If the Variags chose to flee and not fight back however, I would have no choice but to wait for the grass to dry.
Then, I'd burn it. Sorry, Bambi and co.
Once all the Uruks were gathered, I gave them their distasteful instructions, "Don't look orderly now, you're stupid orks from Mordor in these men's eyes, and I'd like to keep it that way. Humans get very careless when they see an easy victory. Hold your spears loosely and not all at the same angle. Don't march in step and don't keep ranks. Remember your places though and wait for my signal. Upon my command, you'll form a shallow rearward echelon."
Now, I don't know if I got the naming right by the standards of earth, but here, a rearward echelon was a V-shaped formation with the point to the enemy. A forward echelon was the opposite, designed to envelope the enemy.
Naturally, if all went well, the Uruks in the center would retreat and the ones on the flanks would advance, switching things over to the forward echelon and finally surrounding the enemy. If only I had cavalry for the finale.
I envy you, Hannibal, the odds we face are not so different, but you had horsemen you lucky… Well, actually, it seems likely you were indeed a legitimate child. Sorry for the stray thought.
The fact remained though, whatever warg-riders I did have, they weren't enough in number to be used like a cavalry brigade.
And, as always, that left me at square one. Slow, heavy, trained infantry who own only the ground they stand on.
But my fears were allayed in a few minutes. The Variags weren't striking their tents, they were instead gathering into a fearsome mass, clearly expecting to run right over us.
I only hoped they didn't.
There must have been over two thousand horses with riders there, and that was certainly not an overestimation. And, even more frightfully, I knew this camp wasn't the only one. There were other mobile camps in Khand, dividing and combining whenever they grew too large for the ground to support, or too small to complete large-scale raids.
To be honest, this Vichystan probably wasn't the Lord-of-all-Khand that they clearly tried to make him out to be.
That brought up an interesting point. Allying with certain natives to crush their local rivals and increase your own power was how the Europeans imperialized almost the whole world.
Effective stuff, and, if I may say, a legacy I have inherited.
Now, my official goal was to spread the Dark Lord's influence unto the ends of the earth… of Middle Earth. Rather religious sounding.
But, my private goal?
I wasn't going to be content to stay a servant for long, that's simply not how I play a game. Increase your power, get subordinates, upgrade your territories, make outside alliances, - can't marry so how do I do that?- , and, finally, usurp or split-off.
I generally favor ursupation. No need to hurt the national power by going independent. Very messy, quite dangerous.
If Sauron could inherit the role of Dark Lord from Melkor, I could inherit it, in my own way, from Sauron.
Or, I could leave behind ambitions of grandeur and roam the whole world as a lonely spirit… how inticing. Not.
Back to the more charging matter at hand.
Yes, charging. The Variags certainly weren't slow about it today.
But I didn't mind. The sooner they came, the sooner this was over.
X-X-X-X-X
…
I opened my eyes, looking around, finding myself in a now familiar place.
Where was it?
How did I get here again?
I looked at my gaunt ghost hand, naked as it should not have been…
Where were my gauntlets?
...Vichystan
They…. they smashed us good.
How did it go?
Where was I then?
"Form lines!"
The Uruks were a tad confused about it, the fact that not the whole group was here throwing them off. We should have spent more time training… no time for that.
I heard something behind us, a thundering like the horses before us, far too close now…
A glance over my shoulder confirmed my worst fears. Another group, almost as big as the one in front was charging our rear.
There wasn't time to switch to a defensive square.
The Uruks didn't know about the rear, best not to scare them, if we could just rout the closer ones in front of us in time and about-face to meet the ambushers, we could still win.
It didn't happen.
We lost.
But how did I end up back in this coffin? Nay, why was I here last time?
A respawn point?
But that doesn't explain why its me in the 'body' of this wraith, and not the ancient king himself.
Time for that later, methinks.
I stood up quickly, "My Lord," And greeted the Witch-King.
"Your failure stands in stark contrast to your previous confidence."
"I was arrogant, and believed my Uruks could win alone. Every defeat is a lesson. Never again shall I fight on the plains with no cavalry."
"Indeed you shan't. The Dark Lord has seen fit to reduce you to the armory for the time being. There you shall serve as the instrument of his will, forging weapons and armor only spirits, Maia, and Elves can forge."
I tried not to smile, and roughly succeeded. This was meant to be a demotion, but I could think of no finer task. To learn the smithing of Middle Earth was a boon indeed. And from the most master craftsman of them all, the Giver of Rings, Sauron.
I didn't even know wraiths could forge. Still, if Sauron wasn't doing it, and he wasn't, Eye Form and all, someone had to be crafting the Nazguls' armors. Unless there was a stockpile that barely ever dwindled.
But… How to say, looking at my body, I seem to have dwindled it myself.
At least, I'm fairly sure I used to be… less naked.
I won't be making any sarcastic remarks about venerable, and suitably shriveled, bits. No I shan't.
Since my new job was in the forge, re-clothing myself was no trouble.
Now to settle in smelting and hammering.
X-X-X-X-X
Author's Note: It's been way too long, eh, but here it is. This chapter ended up leading the story in a direction I hadn't originally intended. I was thinking more along the lines of repentant Variags go see Haradrim get everything settled and take a couple hostages. But, I think this is fine. You?
Now, should next chapter be 3rd person of another part of middle earth, or should I keep this story strictly from Akhorahil's perspective?