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Edited by Python824: 6/13/2016 5:47:54 PM
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The Dark Age of Mordor (RP)

After the fall of Sauron, his lieutenants took over his army and put humanity, and the elvish race, on their knees, prepped for execution. Humans and Elves have been enslaved for almost a hundred years, one generation after the next. Children rarely survived, those who did were often used as servants for Orcish Warchiefs, or Captains. Some, if they were lucky, became servants for the lieutenants of Sauron, often turning into just another soldier... But there was a revolt. A rebellion. A spark of life for the civil races. Roughly a thousand slaves have been liberated, and have taken up arms against the Dark Forces. Their morale is low, their supply count lower, and their chances lowest. Some of them are fueled by anger, others by passion, a few by faith, but they all share the same goal. And it's a good one. But that was a long time ago, those stories are myths and legends now... Enslaved...enslaved a mere few miles from the gate. On the other side of the gate, possibly Humans or Elves are in control. Most of the area is blocked off by rocks, or walls that the Orcs have built to keep their slaves in. To the south, the heart of the Dark Army, to the north, the Black Gate. The lieutenants of Sauron have recruited a group of Uruks, Warchiefs, to watch over the army when they can't. The Warchiefs are often the smartest, the strongest, the best soldiers of the nightmarish army. The lieutenants themselves are extremely apt fighters, not ones to be taken in one on one combat. The Talons of the Black Hand hang in control over the Warchiefs. Monsters roam what remains of the land. Beasts, some tamed by Orcs, some not. Most are very dangerous, even the flies can kill you in Mordor. This place should be named Hell, there's no stop to the violence, to the combat, to the death. Magic....magic is dead. The only ones with magical abilities are the five Talons of the Black Hand, and the Black Hand himself....alive ones that is. The Wraith of Mordor is a legend...some legends are true.... Biographies [spoiler]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/206539008/0/0[/spoiler] Lore [spoiler]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/206539894/0/0[/spoiler] Nature [spoiler]https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/206540393/0/0[/spoiler] Rules [spoiler] 1. No magic, the Wraith is controlled by myself 2. One Wraith, and one Wraith only 3. Please, please don't copy things straight from LoTR, original characters are the best 4. Before you kill someone's character, talk it out with them over PM, the current arc runner is the only one with the right to kill one's character by surprise 5. No character jacking, we all know what that means...hopefully 6. Try to type more than just a sentence, I know you guys aren't Stephen King, but come on, be creative and a little lively 7. No spam 8. Talk to me if you have a plan for a side arc with your character 9. Talk to me about joining, or one of the admins (admins TBA)[/spoiler]
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  • [b][u]A Young Slave's Rebellion[/u][/b] [b]Northern Mordor[/b] Sunset, a camp full of slaves and run by Orcs. These Orcs were cruel, infamously so. Slaves of all races, colors and ages wanted to break away, they wanted to get out. This camp was larger than the rest, considered a stronghold. There are alarms around, with Orc after Orc watching over the camp. "You! With the gray hair! Get back to work! No breaks!" An old man, thin and frail had fallen, and was struggling to get back up. Next to him, his granddaughter and her mother. The Orc that yelled at him comes over and starts kicking the man in the chest. In seconds, the elderly man is coughing up blood, holding now broken ribs. With the old man's dying breath, he swung up with his pickaxe, near the Orc's head. He missed, rather bad. The pickaxe however, wasn't aimed for the Orc, but for the chain that held him and his granddaughter together. The young girl, 12 years of age, was crying, but she saw her chance...and took it. She drops the pickaxe and tears off running, towards the treeline. She's fast, especially for a slave, but not fast enough. An arrow buries itself in her calf. She falls, face first, screaming. Orcs catch up and drag her back to the camp. She is strung up by the wrists, with the arrow still in her leg. Her legs were broken, tied to a cross and cut whenever another slave misbehaved. She was weak and dying... [spoiler]Open post, you guys will encounter each other, please take into account each other's posts and work together. These Orcs are pissed and will not go down easy...[/spoiler]

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