The battle of Helms Deep.
A conflict of epic proportions where over ten thousand Fighting Uruk-Hai besieged King Theoden, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and the meager number of soldiers under the monarchs command. It was only through the defenders numbers being bolstered by the elves Rivendell led by Haldir, that they managed to survive the night. Bombs were used to create a gap in the wall, a battering ram broke the keeps main doors, and ballistae were used to raise massive siege ladders that allowed an assault on the bastion itself.
By morning the defenders were pushed back to the very last line of defense. However in a daring move, Theoden led eight other riders in a last ditch charge through the fortress and down the ramp straight in the heart of the Uruk forces. What would have been a suicidal move was saved as Gandalf arrived with Eomer and the two thousand Rohirim he had gathered.
They thundered down the slop towards a wall of pikes, but just before impact the sun rose over the hill; blinding the Uruks and leading to heavy casualties as the horse lords reaped them through them.
Broken by a devastating cavalry charge, the remaining attackers were either killed inside the fortress they'd just finished occupying, or fled through a mass of Huorns where they met grisly ends via living trees. Rohans forces were ultimately victorious, though their casualties were grim. Not a single one of the elves from Rivendell had survived, and many soldiers of Rohan perished in the short-lived siege.
Can one person change the course of history?
Let's find out.
Brego of Rohan stood high upon The Hornburgs wall, face grim, body tense......and trying desperately not to wet himself.
A wave of evil was advancing relentless through the night towards him. Monsters that crept closer with every second that passed. If not for the torches they carried, he'd have scarcely seen them through the rain and darkness. Though the faint light showed little beyond the fact that the abominable creatures were approaching. The myriad of small fires stood as a stark testament to just how large the horde was. Its breadth more than matched the wall upon which he stood, and length stretched far out through the distance in a seemingly never ending mass of black and hatred.
Lightning strikes in the distance, painting the world white for just a brief instant. In that moment Brego gasps, his eyes turning into saucers.
For the half-second of illumination showed not a simple horde of orcs clad in whatever they could scavenge, but rather an army of Uruk-Hai outfitted in metal armor; the air above them bristling with a veritable forest of pikes. Against the white background of the light the many angular figures seemed more like demons than orcs. That outline burned itself into the young mans mind, and overlayed itself over the darkness whenever he closed his eyes.
"It's just the rain" a voice whispered. "You'll be fine, the elves are with us"
Indeed a force of 500 elven warriors from Rivendell had come as reinforcements, both acting to supplement the meagre human forces spread thinly on the bulwark, and to stand on the ground behind it, bows drawn and ready for combat. From just the few glances he'd managed to steal since being posted near the end of the wall, the serene figures seemed wholly untroubled by the force coming for them.
"Maybe they think we can win this?" The wiry young man mumbles, before shaking his head.
Brego kept muttering to himself, but was taken out of his fugue as an uruk cried out. His eyes were drawn past the front line of enemies and up to the orc in question. This one wasn't wearing a helmet, and instead had it's horrendous face put on display for everyone to see. By it's command the force of Uruks came to a halt across from The Hornburgs walls. By his guess that was the Uruk in charge.
"Ha-helms deep h-has never fallen" A voice whispered from his left, Brego didn't dare to look for the speaker, that would require tearing his eyes away from the monsters in front of him. They were just standing there silently, as if waiting for something. Some sign or roder.
Then the uruk commander cried out once more, and his army erupted into action. To Brego it seemed like the air itself was suddenly overwhelmingly heavy, like their chants were weighing down the very air itself. His knees threatened to buckle, and Brego could swear that the very ground was shaking from the force of the orcs synchronous strikes. He steadied himself by leaning on the battlements, eyes finally moving away from the enemy force.
Glancing down, he spotted the sword and shield held in his hands. Dear heirlooms passed down by his deceased father, they'd defended Rohan for generations, killing Dunlendings and orcs alike. But now both were shaking like trees being assaulted by a gale, neither one would stop shivering; it didn't seem to matter how much effort he put into steadying them.
Suddenly the chanting stopped, and Brego looked up just in time to see the crowd of Uruks start roaring in anger. Then without any more preamble the orcs were suddenly charging, and it was Brego could do to not turn and flee. The few men stationed near him on the wall seemed to be in similar states, however the elves simply raised their bows, arrows nocked and at the ready.
"Hado i philinn!" The elven sentence heralds a storm of arrow fire from the elves manning the wall. Countless shafts fly through the air, slamming into the front ranks charging Uruk-Hai. However they keep coming seemingly uncaring of the losses suffered. Another string of elvish words emerge into the air, but the blonde man finds himself unable to comprehend them through the din of battle.
All he can grasp is that some of the Uruks are raising ranged weapons of their own. Eyes widening, Brego quickly jerks his wiry body to the left, barely managing to avoid the bolt of a crossbow. Instead it flies past him and begins to fall down towards the crowd of elves gathered behind the wall. The young warrior of Rohan doesn't look back to where it landed, something else had caught his eye.
Ladders were being planted at the foot of the wall, with the largest orcs he'd ever seen hanging on at their top rungs. Their only covering were a metal helmet, and a loincloth, leaving their rippling physiques bare to the world. The white hand of Saruman was plastered on their black bodies creating a sharp contrast even in the low light of nightime. Each and every one carried a massive terrifying blade in their free hand. However the worst thing was that one was going to land right in front of the elven force near him!
Brego takes a step back, looking desperately at the men and elves around him for what to do. They just stood grimly, blades out and ready for battle.
He ducks down as the gigantic Uruk-Hai leaps from the ladder, and crashes into the line of elf warriors. A single sweeping blow tears through the assembled fighters, and flings them aside. A second strike then slices through the area in which Bregos neck had just resided a few seconds prior. Having managed to avoid the large orcs attempt to cleave his head from his shoulders, the soldier of Rohan wildly thrusts his blade out hoping to try and catch something with the attack.
The tip of his weapon bites deep into flesh, triggering a release of black ichor from the newly made thigh-wound. Foul-smelling blood splattered onto the young mans face, even as his foe screams in pain. The soldier of Rohan, reflexively shut his eyes,barely managing to avoid having his eyes be tainted by foul liquid. Now bereft of eye-sight he retracts his blade, and strikes again. Now desperately flailing with his sword, the young man makes a blind thrust, and feels tip of his sword bite into flesh once more. The Uruks roar turns into a gurgle and Brego cautiously opens his eyes. His sword had caught the armored orc in its open mouth, while it fell forward killing it near instantly. A moment later, the corpse falls limply forward sliding down to lay on the wall top.
"I killed one!" The son of Rohan screams, a confident grin stitched onto his face. All the fear he'd had bottled up inside fled in that instant replaced by a fiery confidence. He turns to the men behind him, each one looking awed by the feat which had just transpired. "I killed the big bastard! We can do this! We can wi-"
His words are cut off as a spike rips through the chainmail on the side of his neck, and embeds itself in his throat. Brego manages to blink once before the hardened muscled of an uruk rips the blade free, and takes half of his throat with it.
You'd volunteered to assault the leftmost portion of the wall for one very simple reason. It was the farthest distance away from the main keep, and thus meant you'd see the least amount of combat possible. Unfortunately, the leaders of Sarumans army took your words to mean something else. Namely to have your company lead the assault, and be first in the fray. Before you could comment otherwise they'd already moved on to another topic. Then the damned elves had shown up somehow, and killed a quarter your soldiers before they'd even reached the wall! In the end, you had two choices, either stay below the wall and risking getting peppered by arrow fire, or climb after the crazy berserker. You'd chosen the latter option. The crossbow you
*ahem* acquired from a downed Uruk should come in handy if you're to survive the following battle.
Jealous. The commanders of your army were jealous of your intellect and tactical acumen, and scared that you'd usurp their positions. Your company of swordsmen had been assigned to the very farthest left flank, and the suggestions given cast aside in favour of their own inferior tactics. They'd laughed as you stormed away, mockingly calling you "The Commander" as if the term was an insult. You won't stop until the entire army of Isengard is under your control. It's your destiny to command the greatest army in the land, and The Hornburg is where it will all begin. The elves were a rather unpleasant surprise, but your use of a shield wall minimized casualties amongst your soldiers. Their presence has also created an opportunity. First you'll establish a foothold on the wall using your swordsmen, then? Well you have a plan
When the order arrived relaying your orders for the coming battle, you responded by punching the messenger in the face. Thanks to his helmet the Uruk survived, but your mood had been foul for most of the long march to Helms Deep. Instead of fighting in the thickest of things, you'd been relegated to the area farthest from where the heaviest fighting would take place! You wanted to go up and slowly choke the life out from the Uruk responsible for the order, but that would be stupid. Instead you were just going to fight your way through the entire fortress, and personally take Theodens head! The elves arriving was only a bonus, it simply meant your fight towards Rohans king would be all the more challenging! You vaulted up the ladder right after the berserker, ready to fight and kill!
- Write in (Warning I retain the right to veto certain names, that don't fit in with the Uruk-Hai scheme or are just trolling. Like Blast hardcheese)
 Title: (The chosen Archetype of the character, effects their physical stats, skills, personality and backstory.
- The Survivor:
The character is concerned primarily with his own survival, he will do whatever is necessary to avoid dying, and is primarily a selfish Uruk with self-serving mindset. With that in mind he’s also intelligent enough to think about long-term survival, and that his best chance for that is to keep his various
*Ahem* soldiers from dying off. The Survivor will do his best to act the part of an inspiring commander, (despite his internal misgivings) and try to get out of situations with the least amount of bloodshed possible; if only because that makes his long term chances of survival a bit higher. He is a natural grumbler, and sometimes thinks of the very worst way a situation may turn out, those thoughts motivate him to stop the worst case scenario from coming about.
- Has the highest personal defensive ability out of the three archetypes, and the most bizarre luck.
- Is decently charismatic, and is great at bullshitting people/other uruks.
- Starts as a "Decent" commander with a firm grip on tactics, though they're mostly based around defense mind you.
- Will automatically block off some of the more "Risky" options that would have otherwise been available later on in the quest.
Basically evil Ciaphus Cain, expect some misunderstandings and strange luck, maybe a little plot armor. Plus he has the potential to become a surprisingly good fighter.
- The Commander:
A prodigy of tactics of tactics and strategy practically unheard of amongst Uruk-Hai. He thinks in advance, always planning, always trying to win in the best possible manner. The Commander reads the flow of battle, predicts how it’ll unfold and then acts accordingly, coordinating his forces with unmatched skill. Very conceited, and somewhat cocky given his lack of actual experience, but is overall smartest of the three archetypes. Generally expects things to go his way, and may panic if presented with scenarios he deems unwinnable. He’s also surprisingly charismatic when the situation calls for it, though his tendency to practice speeches may have something to do with that. He considers himself a grand figure, destined for greatness. All he has to do is march to that destiny over a mound of his slaughtered foes.
- Decent in personal combat, but nothing that could really pose a threat again a hero character.
- Is rather charismatic, but not nearly on the level he imagines himself to be.
- The Commander is rather outstanding when it comes to strategy and tactics, by far the best out of the three Archetypes. Best choice overall for mass fighting.
- Very ambitious, and willing to take risks providing the payoff is good.
Commander: Imagine Alexander The Great, except far more brutal, and starting out with an army instead of a kingdom. Never really going to be one of the top teir fighters stat or skill wise.
- The Champion:
First and foremost the champion is an inspiring fighter, his presence on the battlefield brings up the morale of soldiers immensely, and the strength of his arm allows him to cut down nearly any foe in his way. He leads by doing, and is always the first into the fray, confident in his success even if the odds seem slim. The Champion has a good sense of comradery, and dislikes seeing his fellow Uruk-Hai cut down. Very upbeat for a great Orc, the champion has little time for things such as depression or sadness when instead he could be fighting, training or celebrating. He is the least smart, and tactically adept out of the three archetypes (though not a simpleton) but makes up for it by having the highest charisma. With all that in mind it’s good to remember that most enemy hero units will flat out just be better than him thanks to experience if nothing else.
- Is the best personal combatant by far, and physically the strongest/biggest.
- Is the most inspiring to nearby units, and lowers the morale of his enemies. Good trait for combat, less so for negotiations.
- He is not the best tactician, and doesn't really think that far ahead. Will not go for plans that require sacrificing large numbers of his kind.
- The champion will almost always choose the route which leads to him getting into personal combat. He loves fighting, but that can be used against him.
Champion: Think a slightly nicer Thorkell The Tall if he was an Uruk, and not yet in his prime. Will be able to match up to top tier fighters like Aragorn later on providing he survives long enough to gain the skill and temper his body