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CaptainofDespair · 11-06-2004, 06:10 PM

Move Out!

The muddled sounds of burdened movement in the darkness, nearly overpowered the voices of the commanders, who were vainly trying to get their men mustered in the gloomy twilight. Their shouts could be heard rising above the clanking of metal, and the beating of horse hooves. Many of the troopers, hungry, tired, and shivering from the cold, were on the verge of mutiny. They grew more and more agitated with each passing day, angry at their commanders, the King, and the Orcs. A few had even deserted the host, choosing to live a life of exile, rather than suffer what was their duty. But Uther was determined to take Gundabad, and he suppressed the mutinous thoughts of his soldiers at every corner. He himself was already becoming the heinous, feared leader of his past years, and it was prevalent in the eyes of his men.

Yet, the troops managed to drag themselves into marching columns, with a small baggage train of fresh supplies from Esgaroth, trailing in the rear. Many of them were still half-asleep, and the initial command to begin the march was not well received, and the soldiers took their time in moving forward. But eventually they moved, whether out of fear, or out of duty. What lay before them, was a vast stretch of empty, snowy wastes...

************************

The march had not gone well, thus far. Only on the second day of their last leg, they had already met quite a few obstacles. Early in the morning, the pack animals had decided to break from their train, and attempt to run off, possibly from the faint reek of death that hovered in the winds. They were eventually recovered, and brought back into place, but not without a hassle. This required the entire column to halt its march, which was a welcome relief to the soldiers, who were forced to trod through the snow, seemingly without end. Uther however, was not pleased, and thus ordered the soldiers either to stand in the light snow, and slowly freeze in the cold, or go out after the pack animals.

But, finally, the march began once more, and the column slowly churned up the energy to press forward into the barren landscape. Uther rode at the head of the column, atop his horse, which was one of the few that was brought along for combat purposes. Many of his sergeants and other junior grade commanders stuck with their assigned deployment units. As the march trickled on, Uther began to review the small units under his command. Only one, the “Black Gate Garrison”, as it was often referred to, for its continued watch of the Morannon, was anywhere near combat ready. The other units were either conscripts, or hastily gathered segments of local garrisons. These units were obviously not the pride of the Gondorian Army, and that irritated the aged commander, who was accustomed to larger, better equipped outfits. But, he would not retreat. He knew he must accomplish his task, or die trying. Retreat was not an option, even against larger, more experienced foes. Against the orcs, it could only lead to humiliation.

Before long, Uther had sent out scouts, to survey a spot that would be suitable for camp, and he awaited their return with his normal impatience for such a small task. He had hoped it would not take long, for he was growing weary, and the rest of his “soldiers”, were already starting to complain of the harshness with which he forced them on. At last, he could stand it no longer, and had given into the demands for rest and food, and sent out his scouts. To pass the time, while the column carried on at a steady, yet slow pace, he drew out his maps and poured over them, as he straddled his horse, while it meandered along the faint outlines of what might have been a path or road of some sort. A few of his forward most soldiers could hear vague muttering emanating from the lieutenant, and they chuckled inwardly to themselves, at his apparent lunacy.

11-06-2004, 06:10 PM	#19
CaptainofDespair Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Jun 2004 Posts: 413	Move Out! The muddled sounds of burdened movement in the darkness, nearly overpowered the voices of the commanders, who were vainly trying to get their men mustered in the gloomy twilight. Their shouts could be heard rising above the clanking of metal, and the beating of horse hooves. Many of the troopers, hungry, tired, and shivering from the cold, were on the verge of mutiny. They grew more and more agitated with each passing day, angry at their commanders, the King, and the Orcs. A few had even deserted the host, choosing to live a life of exile, rather than suffer what was their duty. But Uther was determined to take Gundabad, and he suppressed the mutinous thoughts of his soldiers at every corner. He himself was already becoming the heinous, feared leader of his past years, and it was prevalent in the eyes of his men. Yet, the troops managed to drag themselves into marching columns, with a small baggage train of fresh supplies from Esgaroth, trailing in the rear. Many of them were still half-asleep, and the initial command to begin the march was not well received, and the soldiers took their time in moving forward. But eventually they moved, whether out of fear, or out of duty. What lay before them, was a vast stretch of empty, snowy wastes... ************************ The march had not gone well, thus far. Only on the second day of their last leg, they had already met quite a few obstacles. Early in the morning, the pack animals had decided to break from their train, and attempt to run off, possibly from the faint reek of death that hovered in the winds. They were eventually recovered, and brought back into place, but not without a hassle. This required the entire column to halt its march, which was a welcome relief to the soldiers, who were forced to trod through the snow, seemingly without end. Uther however, was not pleased, and thus ordered the soldiers either to stand in the light snow, and slowly freeze in the cold, or go out after the pack animals. But, finally, the march began once more, and the column slowly churned up the energy to press forward into the barren landscape. Uther rode at the head of the column, atop his horse, which was one of the few that was brought along for combat purposes. Many of his sergeants and other junior grade commanders stuck with their assigned deployment units. As the march trickled on, Uther began to review the small units under his command. Only one, the “Black Gate Garrison”, as it was often referred to, for its continued watch of the Morannon, was anywhere near combat ready. The other units were either conscripts, or hastily gathered segments of local garrisons. These units were obviously not the pride of the Gondorian Army, and that irritated the aged commander, who was accustomed to larger, better equipped outfits. But, he would not retreat. He knew he must accomplish his task, or die trying. Retreat was not an option, even against larger, more experienced foes. Against the orcs, it could only lead to humiliation. Before long, Uther had sent out scouts, to survey a spot that would be suitable for camp, and he awaited their return with his normal impatience for such a small task. He had hoped it would not take long, for he was growing weary, and the rest of his “soldiers”, were already starting to complain of the harshness with which he forced them on. At last, he could stand it no longer, and had given into the demands for rest and food, and sent out his scouts. To pass the time, while the column carried on at a steady, yet slow pace, he drew out his maps and poured over them, as he straddled his horse, while it meandered along the faint outlines of what might have been a path or road of some sort. A few of his forward most soldiers could hear vague muttering emanating from the lieutenant, and they chuckled inwardly to themselves, at his apparent lunacy.