Cult of Sauron

Chapter 1: From The Mud and Blood

As the sun began to rise on a dark and misty morning, GraRuuk, a once trusted Uruk-Hai, stepped out of his bed and opened his window to take in the fresh morning air. What remains of Isengard is rubble, but the orcs have built from the ruins and made a thriving mining community. His thoughts turned to his fallen brothers at Helm's Deep, and the desire for revenge burned within him. However, he knew he had to focus on his responsibilities as a father to his children. He made his way to his armory, the same one where he had once donned his fearsome armor and fought in countless battles. But now, as he gazed upon the armor, a solemn guilt overwhelmed him. His mind was flooded with memories of the carnage he had witnessed and the lives he had taken. He stared at the white hand painted on the breastplate, a symbol of the power he had once served. His anger boiled over, and he threw a table across the room, letting out a guttural scream. In the doorway, he noticed his son Mal'rook cowering in fear. He attempted to embrace him in comfort, but Mal'rook quickly scurried away, sobbing. GraRuuk was filled with regret and shame for the monster he had become. GraRuuk was now just a man training the young orcs in the great halls of the underground Temple of Sauron. However, this task was greatly miscalculated, as the Elves were tasked with wiping out the remnants of Sauron's Army. GraRuuk knew that they needed to prepare for the worst and that it had to be done in secret if they intended to survive.

Standing face to face, the trainees prepared for simulated combat. GraRuuk's memories came flooding back. The sounds of metal and stone clanking together triggered intense flashbacks, and he could still feel the blood dripping from his now-healed wounds. He could smell the rotting corpses that littered the battlefield. "ENOUGH!" he shouted at one trainee. "Your shield is too low." He smacked the trainee with his cane on the side of his face. "Higher, if you wish to survive. Your skull will be a fruit bowl for the Elves if you continue with this incompetency." GraRuuk knew that they were all that remained of Sauron's Army. He was determined to ensure that they were ready for what lay ahead and that they would be able to survive in the face of their enemies. "Again" he demanded, watching his pupils become more aggressive in their actions. "If you fuck this up one more time, your meal privileges will be taken for a week!" The trainees tirelessly and relentlessly attack each other for several more hours. Arriving back on the surface, GraRuuk and the trainees don their off-white cloth tunics, stained with mud and coal, to appear as workers in the mine that just so happens to be where the new Temple of Sauron is located.

Oglash, GraRuuk's wife, sits on the porch, awaiting his return. She notices movement on the ridgeline of the eastern crest. A man in a white gown on a white horse. She knew what was about to happen. As Oglash ran into the house and hid in the walls with Mal'Rook, she knew the elves had found them. Her leg trembled as she hears the footsteps of elven boots in her home. A sudden thud echoed, and she heard GraRuuk call out for her. Slowly, she opened the false wall, and Mal'Rook ran to his father, hugging him. This was the first time Mal'Rook saw what his father was capable of. He had been told stories, but he had never seen him take another life like that. "We need to leave," Oglash said, with worry in her eyes. "No. I am not running from this again. If you want to leave, I will not stop you. But I am going to finish what Sauron started. What he believed in. No matter the outcome." Oglash hung her head because she knew Graruuk was still under the influence of Sauron. "I guess it's settled then. Go get cleaned up" she said to Mal'Rook.

Years later, Mal'Rook had become a scribe for the now-established Cult of Sauron. In a meeting with the leader, his father, he is asked to travel alone and see if the elves are still watching them. The elves have been trying to gather insight into what they do but to no avail. "As far as the elves are concerned, we are just a village of orcs and want to be left alone. But your wish is my command, Father." Mal'Rook gets on his horse and rides into the Northern Canyon. Just hours after Mal'Rook left, the elves snuck into the ruins of Isengard, and the mines. Undetected, they found the secret Temple of Sauron. "What is this place?" One elf whispered. "Looks like a cult of evil, masquerading as miners. We have to get back and report this. What could happen if these orcs continue to worship the long-past dark lord?" As the recon team escapes the cave, a group of orcs is rapidly approaching their position. The elves decide to hide behind a pile of rubble. "Is, Is that a ribcage?" One elf asks. "It sure looks like it, now be quiet." The elf that noticed the ribcage starts to acknowledge his surroundings, and notices they are not just behind a pile of rubble. They are in a pit of decaying bodies of the previous elven recon teams. He grabs a golden headband and places it discreetly in his satchel to bring back. "We need to leave. Now" he says urgently. As the elves bound back into the forest, they get away undetected.

"Where is Mal'Rook? He was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. It has been 3 days! Send a war party to find him." A team of orcs dispatches and rushes off toward the Northern Canyon. Mal'Rook, alone but unafraid, set up camp for the evening. His horse was killed on the first day by an elven arrow through the heart. The head of the archer is slung to his pack, alongside the bow he recovered. He sets fire to the clothes of the elf and cooks the arm and shoulder. Approaching in the distance, he hears the hooves of several horses. Hiding in the bushes with sword drawn, ready to ambush whoever is coming toward him, he notices a familiar scent in the air. "Brothers!" He shouts, excited to share a meal with his fellow orcs in what he thought would be a time of celebration. "The Father is worried. You need to return and report your findings" one orc exclaimed. "These are my findings" as he gestures to the bow and the fire. "The elves are resistant, and I worry they know what we are trying to establish. We need to be more aggressive. We need to take the fight to them before they come to us with everything they have. But for now, we feast. We will bask in the glory of the kill." The orcs monotonously chant in gracious thanks for their ability to overcome their enemy in battle and to the soul of the elf who gave his life to sustain the orcs.