The macabre ruins of what was once the Tower of Amon Sûl laid dormant upon the peak of Weathertop, long left abandoned and destroyed since it had been built by Elendilin during the first days of the Northern kingdom of Arnor. The midday sun was perched in the sky, flooding the land with golden rays of light and warmth but upon the eastern side, the peak cast long and wide shadows down upon the Great East Road and the lands around it for quite a distance. These rugged and hilly lands also had scattered ruins among them from the same age the tower had been built. In the chance that a battle would break out in the surrounding area, the ruins were solid enough and still in well enough condition to be used as shelter or as a well suited area for an ambush. A soft, gentle breeze blew through the lands, causing the leaves on the numerous lush vegetation to rustle gently, a soft earthy tone followed. The air was clean and crisp, one that would be expected in the calm, cool air of the winter, and not in the summer. Among these lush ruins, something stirred silently with great agility, to the untrained eye the lands would seem apparently empty, but that was not the case. In the shadows, hidden from all sight, fifteen rangers and a small handful of Mercenaries who hailed from random lands and species awaited among the ruins. 

Their prey was a large pack of Orcs, around thirty or so, departing from their fortified camp they had built in only a short time, two days to be exact. These Orcs did not resemble the rest of their brothers, they were bread for one reason and one reason alone, war. The orcs were much taller, stronger, aggressive and vicious than the lands had seen in many long years. Their sudden appearance without warning brought an ominous feel of fear and death with them that spread across the lands. These Orcs did not only bring ill tidings of dark ages long lost past, but also the message that evil in the faraway lands was stirring once more. Whispers in the night that traveled with the wind seemed to carry dark words in an elvish tongue. Animals not only of the wild but also of the many farms became restless and scared of something that could not yet be seen. The occupants of the nearby establishments became worried of these Orc sightings and strange occurrences that had made their way to even the lands of Bree. Panic and civil unrest was on the verge of unleashing itself before someone, somewhere who had been at that great war many years ago with the forces of evil informed the Mayor of Bree to send out a message to the fellow settlements in the area and inform them that forces were being sent to eliminate the threat of the Orcs.

Rangers were quickly dispatched with a group of mercenaries to eliminate the Orc threat and evaluate the damage as well as investigate the area thoroughly. The group of Rangers and mercenaries departed as soon as possible for the lands, spotting their targets many hours later, using an open road to travel back and forth to the massive fortified camp they had built. The leader of the troops issued a command for them to take up cover inside of a rather large area of ruins upon a hill that overlooked the road the Orcs used to travel upon. An ambush was quickly planned and set up for the Orcs. The ruins of the castle that use to be built there was mostly intact besides large areas that were now only piles of rubble. Six pillars held up the entrance of the castle that lead underground into a large arena. All of the troops had gathered their earlier to plan out how the ambush would play out and where each of them would be positioned. The outside of the ruins had plenty of caves and crevices that had been grown over my vegetation, giving whoever hid behind it an excellent point to ambush from. Even parts of the road traveled over metal grates where other troops were positioned. Without the Mayors knowledge, not that he needed to know, several kegs of lamp oil had been commandeered for the ambush and placed at critical positions on the road along with a couple traps that would hopefully eliminate a good amount of the Orcs, leaving less hand to hand combat and the risk of a gruesome death. 

It had all been set up, everything was in place, and all the Rangers as well as Mercenaries held their position, waiting for the fire and other traps to go off. In a small stone hole covered by hanging vines and other vegetation, Mercenaries leader named Revan waiting patiently with the rest of his crew, he could hear the heavy footsteps from the armored Wargs that lead the Orc war party. On the back of the armor plated Wargs were the five Orc leaders who lead the war party, gave orders, and all else. They were the most powerful and fearful Orcs that had seen the area since the great war. Behind them, walked the thirty five Orc berserkers who sprinted to keep in pace with the leaders. The smell of fresh blood and death quickly filled the area as the closed in, every step bringing them closer to their death. One of the main Orcs who lead the party cringed slightly, bringing his nose to the air and taking a deep breath in through it. “HALT” the Orc yelled out, this particular Orc was one of the leaders of course though everyone treated him as if he was THE leader. His name was Gorgauf, the destroyer of all. The name fit him well, he had once taken down a full squad of elite soldiers without breaking a sweat. Blades and arrows had hit him but he showed no sign of feeling pain at all, he had even taken on an Ent singlehandedly with no weapon but his fists.

To face him was death, and not a quick painless one, he enjoyed making people suffer before death, and was very well known for it. Most people had thought Borgauf had died in battle after he vanished in a sea of fire, but he was more tenacious than he appeared. The Orc to his right nodded his head, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I smell man flesh.” The Orc said, looking back and forth between the other members who leaded the party. “As do I...” Gorgauf dismounted from his Warg and drew his blade, the rest of the Orcs did the same, and they prepared themselves for battle, walking slowly across the ground, keeping their senses on full alert for anything out of place. Everyone in the group held their breath and waited for the Orcs to close in before setting off the small explosives. A few moments would pass as it seemed that even time had come to a grinding halt, in favor of the Orcs who searched for any human in the area. In the distance near the Orcs, there was a sudden whoomp sound just as Gorgauf yelled for everyone to take cover. Flames raced across the road, in front of and behind the orcs, a group of 8 Orcs in the rear of the main group was caught in the flames, and fell to the ground writhing as their skin and muscles were burned from their bones. The other traps claimed seven orcs, and wounded several others. 

The first part of the ambush was a success, but there were still many Orcs that had to be killed. Gorgauf and the rest who were still alive which counted twenty, went into a blood lust with their Wargs. It was at this time, they would prove their worth to all of Middle-Earth and attempt to kill all of the Orcs. Revan noticed that the leader Borgauf had acquired a new sword as it cut through the air and met with his in a parry, the weapon had been forged and made deep in the lands of Mordor. The weapon that had not been seen since the Great War was clean besides a couple new fresh bloodstains. This mean that weapons and most likely armor was being forged for the Orcs, and if that was true then there was one man he desperately needed to speak to, if he were to make it out of this alive. There was always a sadistic smile spread across Gorgaufs face as he fought, he truly enjoyed killing and the art of combat. His red and yellow eyes looked sickly into his as he made another attack at Revan, trying to decapitate him. Revan blocked the attack with his sword then quickly moved back a couple of feet to give himself a chance to recover. Gorgauf laughed a deep, guttural laugh made the hair on the back of Revans neck stand up.  “Weak, pathetic, worthless, and so filled with false hope, I wouldn’t expect anything less. You and your kinds time are now done upon this world, my master returns once more and the world will be ruled by Orcs.” Revan Swung his blade at Gorgauf and the blade struck his arm, sticking in the bone while no blood flowed from it. 

The large Orc laughed softly, pulling the blade from his arm and tossing it across the road where Revan could not reach it. “Feast my pets, tear him limb from limb.” One of the armored Wargs from before snapped his neck to the voice of tis master and came running over, frothing from the mouth as it looked at Revan, lust for blood and human flesh was driving the best mad. From above the Warg, an arrow flew towards the wargs head, traveling through its skull completely, killing it on the spot. A female elf wearing leather armor that matched the surrendering almost exactly had shot the arrow and was now helping pick off Orcs from a distance. Gorgauf turned around and moved to where the elf had made herself known. Then with a great show of strength and power, he started to cut massive chunks out of the tree, which fell there for after. The elf who had appeared jumped gracefully from the tree that was now being cut down to another tree and shot three arrows at Gorgauf who did absolutely nothing as they stuck into his body at random places. Taking a couple steps forward, Gorgaufs smile vanished from his face, he pointed at the tree and yelled something in Orcish before the wargs from the group quickly ran over to the tree and used their claws to climb up it at an alarming speed. The sickening smile had now returned to Gorgaufs disturbing face, he had turned around and started to engage combat with another one of Revans mercenaries. 

The elf in the tree had a poor view of what was going on due to how he had landed and barely had time to act before one of the wargs bit down on her left leg, causing her to lose her grip on the branch she was trying to climb. One hand reminded holding onto the branch but the wargs closed in and attempted to go for the kill. The elf had managed to move herself up into the upper part of the tree and position herself so that she could fight and keep herself balanced. The wargs were at her in seconds, trying to pull her down from the tree, but the massive shift in weight had caused the tree to buckle and bend to the left before snapping sending her and all the wargs falling to the ground with a thundering crash that echoed through the forest. The elf only had a moment to get onto her feet but noticed her leg had been broken rather badly from the fall. The wargs were dazed but quickly regained themselves and charged at the elf with a fire behind their eyes. When they had caught up to her, the scene was horrifying for Raven to watch helplessly as it seemed the Wargs were tearing her to pieces, their muzzles drenched in blood. The wargs then suddenly fell onto their sides as if something had instantly killed them from the inside. When the wargs rolled off of the elf he noticed she was severely wounded but had managed to stab each of the wargs sometime during the fight, and had spared at the last moment before being eaten alive by the wargs. 

Quickly, Revan stood up and ran over to his sword, picking it up and charging the back of Gorgauf, running his sword as deep into his back as he could. There was a grotesque sound as the sword seemed to cut through bone and organ like. Revan pulled the sword back and watched as the giant Orc fell to the ground, unmoving, unbreathing, a pool of blood forming below him. Yelling to the rest of his troops that were still alive, he told them to fight on, that the leader Gorgauf had been killed. The other Orcs seemed unphased by this and continued to fight with even more ferocity now. Sprinting with the energy he had left, made his way over to the injured female elf who had her armor torn and bloody, with scratches along the body. “You are very lucky my friend, it seems you have been spared to live and fight yet another day.” The elf tried to open her mouth but passed out before she could reply. This elf was no ordinary elf, she wore specially tailored and smithed armor that was a combination of incredibly fine materials. It was clear that not only had luck saved her life but also had her armor and weapons. A couple colorful words came out of Revans mouth as he checked over her vitals to find she was ok, but she would have to be carried and potentially into a human city. “She needs immediate medical attention.” He thought to himself, picking her up in his arms and letting out a grunt. There came a sharp pain from the lower right side of his back, an arrow from one of the Orcs missed his primary shot and had managed to hit him instead. The pain was quite bad but he had been in worse conditions that had been toughed out. 

Keeping himself focused on the objective at hand, he quickly headed back to the rest of the battle and laid the female elf down upon a smooth flat stone that had once belonged to the now mostly destroyed castle they were fighting in. Unsheathing his weapon, he ordered a ranger to stand guard while he and the rest took care of the hostile Orcs. “I shall stand guard sir, but I'd rather be out there fighting with all of you.” Said the Ranger, to which Revan quickly responded. “You are extremely important, more so than the fight at hand, this elf woman may be of very high nobility and honor. It would do you well to remember that returning her would spell rewards beyond measure and mend our fragile friendship to whom she belongs.” The ranger nodded his head and readied himself for combat if anyone was stupid enough to try and attack both the elf and himself. This of course did come to pass shortly after Revan went to join the rest of his mercenaries and eliminating the rest of the Orcs who posed a true challenge for all of them, even with their numbers down to below half. The Orc had smelled the blood from the elf and was drawn towards it, ready to kill the ranger who guarded her. An arrow from the rangers bow flew with great accuracy and speed, hitting the Orc between the eyes and lodging itself deep into its head. “It seems that the Orcs will never learn, luckily for me I do enjoy slaying Orcs here and there when the opportunity presents itself.” The man realized he had talking to himself and quickly shut his mouth. Revan was in the middle of the battle, fighting with an Orcs that was missing part of his face. The Orc was bleeding profusely but did not feel pain or even notice he had been wounded. “You have a little something on your face, let me help you there.” Revan swung his blade at the Orcs neck and delivered a clean cut. The Orcs head flew from his shoulders, and onto the ground as blood rained down upon a good part of the mercenaries and rangers who were still fighting.