Throg waited with his kinsmen on the lower slopes of the giant fortress that casts its shadow over the Lone lands. Saruman's foul Orcs had shown the presumption to take up residence in this citadel but Candaith the defender issued the call for brave warriors to cleanse the rock. Throg and his valiant kinsmen answered that call.
Looking at his huddled kinsfolk steam the night air with their breathing Throg wondered. Did they also feel the fluttering of a hive of bees in their gut? It was not just Goblins and Orcs they had come to face. There was talk of monstrous Wargs and perhaps something even darker. No matter, Candaith's shout heralded the opening of the first gate. The time for thinking was past. Now was the time to fight.
Throg flung himself at the hapless defenders. True to his champion calling he let the blood lust take him. As his fervour rose he became a dwarf possessed. Throg charged into those parts of the battle where his foes were most densely packed so that he might crush several foes with each swing of his mighty broadsword.
Throg's companions included another champion, a hunter, a burglar and a minstrel. The two champions strove to hold the line against the massed foes while the hunter rained death from afar. The burglar used stealth to cripple the most dangerous enemies before they realised their peril. This burglar also proved himself adept at co-ordinating our heroes efforts into devastating conjunctions. No motley group of followers of darkness could hope to withstand this onslaught but such was the number of foes that all would have come to naught 'cept for the bravery of the minstrel. His stirring tunes raised his comrades spirits and spurred them on to victory. Nor did this tunester give ground when orc hordes picked him out and sought to put a bloody end to his singing. He stood his ground absorbing the blows while his comrades recovered themselves sufficiently to come to his aid.
None could doubt the bravery shown by our battle spirited dwarven friend but the tale would not be complete without telling of one shameful incident. While the party rested to recover breath after the defeat of a warg-master and his monstrous pet Throg, still in the madness of his fervour, put one foot down where no foot should be and toppled down the mountain side. Battered and bruised by the fall he attempted to rejoin his comrades but found he could not get through the gates alone. His comrades were vexed by this clumsiness but knew that they needed Throg's mighty broadsword in the confrontations ahead so they came down the mountainside to let him through. This delay gave the orc defenders time to regroup and the party were forced to fight their way up again through paths they had previously cleared.
As if to cleanse the shame of his mistake Throg fought on like a demon. The injuries from his fall were forgotten as he wrought vengeance with every blow. Finally the party reached the very top and confronted Saruman's lieutenant the terrifying uruk Rigul. Rigul was a mighty fighter but our party wore him down. Our heroes smelled victory as Rigul's strength finally waned but at that moment the crafty uruk called forth a gigantic Troll. Empowered by some dark magic this awesome creature threatened to destroy the entire party who by then had spent most of their reserve of strength. This was the time for true hereoes to show there mettle and Throg was not found wanting. True champion that he is our valiant dwarf stepped to the fore as if to offer himself in redemption for his earlier mishap. Throg stood his ground while the unholy creature knocked him senseless. Fate smiled on our band of adventurers and the beast seemed confused that so small an entity should dare to confront it so boldly. Instead of finishing Throg with a killing blow the Troll stood mesmerised over the dwarf's unconscious frame. This respite bought the rest of the party valuable time to recover strength and morale for the final battle. When they were sufficiently restored the group tackled the mighty beast as one. The minstrel managed to revive Throg with a healing melody and doughty dwarf was himself able to lend his sword to the final battle. It took time to wear down the troll's prodgious strength but finally the great beast succumbed and toppled to the ground.
The battle had been won, Weathertop retaken, Saruman's army routed. It was a good night's work.
Looking at his huddled kinsfolk steam the night air with their breathing Throg wondered. Did they also feel the fluttering of a hive of bees in their gut? It was not just Goblins and Orcs they had come to face. There was talk of monstrous Wargs and perhaps something even darker. No matter, Candaith's shout heralded the opening of the first gate. The time for thinking was past. Now was the time to fight.
Throg flung himself at the hapless defenders. True to his champion calling he let the blood lust take him. As his fervour rose he became a dwarf possessed. Throg charged into those parts of the battle where his foes were most densely packed so that he might crush several foes with each swing of his mighty broadsword.
Throg's companions included another champion, a hunter, a burglar and a minstrel. The two champions strove to hold the line against the massed foes while the hunter rained death from afar. The burglar used stealth to cripple the most dangerous enemies before they realised their peril. This burglar also proved himself adept at co-ordinating our heroes efforts into devastating conjunctions. No motley group of followers of darkness could hope to withstand this onslaught but such was the number of foes that all would have come to naught 'cept for the bravery of the minstrel. His stirring tunes raised his comrades spirits and spurred them on to victory. Nor did this tunester give ground when orc hordes picked him out and sought to put a bloody end to his singing. He stood his ground absorbing the blows while his comrades recovered themselves sufficiently to come to his aid.
None could doubt the bravery shown by our battle spirited dwarven friend but the tale would not be complete without telling of one shameful incident. While the party rested to recover breath after the defeat of a warg-master and his monstrous pet Throg, still in the madness of his fervour, put one foot down where no foot should be and toppled down the mountain side. Battered and bruised by the fall he attempted to rejoin his comrades but found he could not get through the gates alone. His comrades were vexed by this clumsiness but knew that they needed Throg's mighty broadsword in the confrontations ahead so they came down the mountainside to let him through. This delay gave the orc defenders time to regroup and the party were forced to fight their way up again through paths they had previously cleared.
As if to cleanse the shame of his mistake Throg fought on like a demon. The injuries from his fall were forgotten as he wrought vengeance with every blow. Finally the party reached the very top and confronted Saruman's lieutenant the terrifying uruk Rigul. Rigul was a mighty fighter but our party wore him down. Our heroes smelled victory as Rigul's strength finally waned but at that moment the crafty uruk called forth a gigantic Troll. Empowered by some dark magic this awesome creature threatened to destroy the entire party who by then had spent most of their reserve of strength. This was the time for true hereoes to show there mettle and Throg was not found wanting. True champion that he is our valiant dwarf stepped to the fore as if to offer himself in redemption for his earlier mishap. Throg stood his ground while the unholy creature knocked him senseless. Fate smiled on our band of adventurers and the beast seemed confused that so small an entity should dare to confront it so boldly. Instead of finishing Throg with a killing blow the Troll stood mesmerised over the dwarf's unconscious frame. This respite bought the rest of the party valuable time to recover strength and morale for the final battle. When they were sufficiently restored the group tackled the mighty beast as one. The minstrel managed to revive Throg with a healing melody and doughty dwarf was himself able to lend his sword to the final battle. It took time to wear down the troll's prodgious strength but finally the great beast succumbed and toppled to the ground.
The battle had been won, Weathertop retaken, Saruman's army routed. It was a good night's work.
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