Tales from Mordor - The Journal of a Watcher

Targets of an Assassin

Sea of Nurnen

Nighttime in Mordor was hell. Well, not really much of a difference from the daytimes, where packs of Caragors would roam around and the odd Graug would go hunting, but that wasn't as bad as the night times, not even the slaves would try to flee from their captors, and every uruk would be high on alert, watching the land infront of them, scouring for any changes that may have happened in the few moments of them not looking,

But what could inspire this kind of fear within even the mighty uruk-hai? What could turn even the most courageous slave away from freedom? Was it Ghûls? Or could it be something else, something worse. That's what a few unlucky uruk guards were about to find out...the hard way.

Two defenders stood infront of the entrance to the Maw of Hope, conversing between one another. 

"Did ya hear about that slave who tried to fight back?"

"Yeah, ha ha! I heard that he got thrown to the caragor pack nearby, stripped naked!"

The two laughed, before the sound of crunching grass drew their attention. "What was that?", the two grabbed their spears and shield from off the wall they were resting on and crept towards the sound, crouching in a half-assed attempt at trying to be sneaky. 

HIdden inside a nearby bush, watching the two defenders draw closer to the sound, was a hooded figure, a quiver of sickly green spears on their back and one in his hand. The figure stepped out of the bush, spear drawn back and ready to throw. He whisted, the defenders heads snapped back and look behind, only for them to see nothing.

"Is someone out there? Hiding like a coward!", one taunted, the other giving a heartly laugh. "Or maybe that someone was just waiting for you to turn your back.", suddenly, a spear erupted from the back of a guard, killing him instantly. The other defender reeled back in panic before a second spear clipped his arm and embedded itself into the wall.

"Who's there?! Show yourself!" he demanded, before his energy started to sap. "Feel that yet? The poison is something I cooked up myself, made to...painfully sap your life until you're nothing but a hollow shell of an uruk." The voice came from behind the defender. He turned and swung his spear, only to meet thin air. The defender clutched his chest, doubling over in pain.

"It'll only be a few moments before the poison works it's way into your heart, then you'll experience the REAL agony of this poison." The voice faded away as the defender collapsed onto the ground and began to spasm around, before he was still. 

And from out of the shadows came the hooded figure, giving a wheezing laugh as he admired his work. He kicked the body around a little, just to make sure it was truly dead. He turned his head to the camp and yelled out, "I found a few of our men dead!" before he ran off.

The guards further inside came out weapons drawn to see the two corpses laying on the ground. The first had only a spear hole in his chest, not rare to see, but the second corpse was worse off. The guards looked around to see if they could find the person who did this before leaving the bodies to rot.

The experience was written off as another casuality of the night, and the corpses were forgotten the next day, but standing ontop of a nearby hill was the hooded figure. "Next time, I'll make it so that the rest of the stronghold dies slowly...heheheh.". And with that, the figure disappeared.