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Gorthak the Piercer

An Uruk-hai captain known for his cruelty and affinity for piercing weaponry

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a character in “Blood of the Third Age”, as played by TheRose202

Groups

The powerful Uruk-hai forces of the White Hand.

Description

Name: Gorthak the Piercer
Age: 7 years
Race: Orc
Sub-branch of your race: Uruk-hai of Isengard
Starting Nation as determined by race: Isengard
Physical Descrip: Gorthak is, as most Uruk-hai, not extremely pleasing to the eye. He stands at about six feet tall when fully upright, and has a sparse mane of black, constantly dirty hair. He wears a sharp-toothed sneer almost all the time, taking pleasure in the pain that is inherent to all Uruk-hai rather than seeing it as something needing to be relieved. He has dark, black eyes filled with madness. His form is muscular and powerful, and he is clearly from one of the more successful batches of Uruk-hai, as he has multiple battle scars that could only mean he survived many a dangerous battle with the great cavalry of Rohan.
Personality: Gorthak is mad. Even moreso than other Uruk-hai, he loves battle and inflicting pain on men. He enjoys using spears and bows as his primary weapons, taking up the great ornate bow of an Imladris Elf he had slain himself when they caught a scouting party in Isengard territory. He wields it to this day, though it's a twisted rendition of what it once was, being covered with the soot of Isengard's forges and the blood of men and Elf alike. His spear is made of strong, reforged iron which has seen much use, constantly caked in the blood of horse and man, and as a sidearm he carries a long, heavy Uruk-hai blade, perfect for taking men off horses or cleaving limbs from bodies for later consumption.
Reason for fighting: Man-flesh and the love of battle
Brief backstory: Gorthak was from one of the better bunches of Uruk-hai, being more cunning and powerful than most from the start. He has grown to enjoy the extreme pain caused by his existence, and enjoys even more inflicting it on others. He has quickly risen to become a commander of the Fighting Uruk-hai of Isengard, leading his own full force, a mixed force consisting of warg riders, Uruk pikemen, swordsmen, and crossbowmen, and even a few archer-orcs of the North who he subjugated awhile back. He is known for having tactical ability where many have none.
Any random stuff that you think is important for us to know: He is much more clever than your average Uruk-hai, though also more mad and bloodthirsty.

So begins...

Gorthak the Piercer's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Farineld Character Portrait: Deranan Character Portrait: Marick Character Portrait: Akash Character Portrait: Kyouki Mari Character Portrait: Ian karkov Character Portrait: Leif and Twig Character Portrait: Celebrian Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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(Let's get this shit revived, people :3 I tagged all of you so you would know my intention. We must get this ball rolling again!)
It is a beautiful, clear-skied day. The sun shines bright on a field of pure blue, illuminating the flowing green and gold fields of Eastemnet, much to the chagrin of Gorthak the Piercer, one of the leaders of Saruman's Fighting Uruk-hai. He looks over his shoulder at his legion, shielding his eyes from the annoyance that is the sun and growling at the competence of his troops. He prides himself on having one of the best-trained troops in Isengard's force, though the accuracy of that is disputed by some. Today, though, he simply needs to kill something. He hasn't seen battle in a long while, and executing incompetent Orc Snagas had gone from fun to grating. If he didn't get to feast on some man-flesh prior to getting to Helm's Deep, he just might go mad(er).

As luck would have it, heading in their direction was a large detachment of Rohirrim Forces, lead by an equally ill-tempered Rohan Captain named Mordren whose weary men had just had a run in with White Hand warg riders. They had defeated the riders with few casualties, but the experience of chasing down and killing riderless wargs was one that could make any man or horse tired and annoyed, and his men had the same general feeling. Currently he just wanted to run into some small band of Uruk-hai or Orc scouts to make short work with an raise the morale of his men.

Neither were close enough to spot each other just yet, but their meeting is inevitable, and wherever the Horse Lords and the White Hand meet, there's sure to be blood, black or red...

(Also...ignore the "Ian" character I tagged. He'd been rejected already. Not sure how he got on there.)

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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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Mordren was riding atop his steed, a magnificent stallion armored in Rohirric scale, at the head of his Eored, still sore from his clash with the wargs. He had lost five men to the beasts, and another eight were injured, and this had put the irritable captain in a foul mood. So irritated was he that he forgot to send out outriders to scout for the enemy, and this could be a terrible blunder on the warfront... Thus did the two hundred man strong Eored ride through the land of Eastemnet, unaware of the Uruk-Hai warband that they were drawing closer and closer to, with each step of a horse.

(Does it count as necromancy to bring this back? Seriously people, this was allowed to be dead for too long. So please come back!)

Setting

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Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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The Piercer and his band of filth march over the fields, merrily trampling daisies and other wildflowers. Gorthak hadn't heard from the Warg scouts they sent ahead yet, and he figured no news was good news. That is, until they reach the crest of an especially large hill, and are suddenly greeted by the sight of a second large band on the opposing hill about a quarter of a league away, though this one not exactly from Isengard. It is, in fact, clearly a group of riders from Rohan, a sight which sends Gorthak's mouth watering and his fury ablaze. Finally, some man-flesh to skewer and feast on!

After a long silence shared between the two parties, Gorthak makes the first move, retrieving his bow from his back and loosing a long black barbed arrow at the leader of the band, a man who looked almost as angry as he was on a horse covered with scale, letting out a guttural battle cry as he does. "Uruk-hai!" it means, in the Black Speech, "Charge the enemy! Tear their flesh and skewer their precious horses!"

He is, as usual, deadly accurate, and might just hit the guy in the facial area if he doesn't move. With that, his "men" yell their own war cries, and the wargs are the first down the hill, moving with unnatural speed over the grassy plains, the sight reminiscent of pitch dripping down a torch, black consuming the green and gold-brown below. The wargs and riders themselves are about one-hundred strong, and his host as a whole is about twice the size of Mordren's (though it's worth noting that Orcs carry less well-made weaponry and are usually not as well trained as hardened Rohan riders, despite Gorthak's somewhat above-par troops). Not far behind the wargs are Gorthak's infantry, mostly consisting of Uruk-hai swordsmen and pikemen, the latter leading in a strangely organised fashion, creating a deadly mobile spear wall with the former following like a swarm of angry hornets, and they're much louder, their terrible Uruk yells ringing out over the fields.

His archers, famed throughout Isengard as slightly more accurate than your average Uruk-hai scout, maintain their position atop the hill, loosing a volley of nasty barbed-tip Isen arrows, the painful serrated tips raining down on the Rohirrim. Time to raise shields or become a pincushion.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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They were just riding along when the whistling of an arrow caught Mordren's attention, causing him to jerk his head back in surprise. As he looked to where the arrow had come from one of his men cried out "Orcs!". He bared his teeth in a wolfish grin, and cried out "More orcish ash to fertilize the grasses of the Riddermark! Ride with me men of Rohan! Forth Eorlingas!" Mordren drew his blade and swept it forward, leading the charge. The whole view seemed to diminish to a thin tunnel with a particularly ugly looking orc atop a warg in his view. A wordless shout came from deep in his throat, one that was carried by the rest of his men. Though he didn't see it, he heard the cries of men and horse as cruel arrows bit into their flesh. But heavy javelins sunk into the bodies of warg and Uruk, bringing them to the ground in splashes of black blood. And then, that second of silence before the clash, when the missiles have been expended, and the riders have thrown their weight into this charge. Massive amounts of tension have been built, and then it is released in a torrent of blood and violence. Mordren slashed his sword into the warg's head, causing it fall, but he kept swinging dropping warg and orc alike. The symphony of battle had begun yet again, on an unknown patch of the vast grasslands of Rohan, just as they were in a dozen other places. The clouds of war had thickened, and this was merely the initial sprinkle...

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Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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Gorthak draws another arrow, loosing it at a rider galloping perpendicular to him. The arrow sinks deep into the man's throat and he falls, choking on his own blood as it pours from the wound. He grins in satisfaction as he draws another and places it upon his bowstring, looking out over the battlefield.

What he sees is not a pretty sight -- or wouldn't be to any but an Uruk-hai. While horses may be somewhat faster and larger than wargs, wargs are undoubtedly more intelligent and maneuverable, meaning that in the initial clash many a warg fell to the more powerful charge but they were beginning to turn the tide in their favour as the beasts tear at the throats of horses and men alike an d deftly dodge multiple attempts to stab them. Even the wargs who lost their rider continue to fight, tearing into flesh with powerful jaws unbridled by the urgings of any orc or goblin. Some of those that still have riders quickly disengage from the fighting and circle around the madness, throwing long, bladed darts into the battle, using them to similar effect as the javelins of the Rohirrim.

Gorthak looses his second arrow and the just as the pikemen slow to a stop before the main battle and begin to try and envelop the mad skirmish, spear tips always pointing inwards toward the horsemen. Horses and spears, as they knew, did not mix, and if the horsemen could be encircled, they would quickly be eliminated. Meanwhile, upon Gorthak's loosing of his second arrow, the rest of the archers loose their own, the volley blocking out the sky. He had many troops, but none were so numerous as his archers.

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Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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The sounds of battle were loud in his ears as Mordren desperately hacked down uruk, warg, and orc. As he took a quick glance behind him he that his eored had been halfed. Even as he watched, a man, one of his friends by the name of Leandros, took an arrow straight through his neck. With a roar of rage, Mordren drives his blade through the skull of an Uruk, lets go, and grabs the lance of a fallen eorling. "Men of the Riddermark! Victory may elude us this day, but I say lets send as many of these wretches to their maker! DEATH FOR GLORY! A GLORIOUS DEATH!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and the Rohirrim answered. With a great roar of anger, and pain, and all the thousand and one things a man feels knowing he goes to his death, they surged forward. They forced their horses forward into the wall of enemies, crushing them underfoot, but they began to falter after a minute. Mordren had just finished stabbing a warg when another leapt and tore his horse's throat out. As he fell he rolled and picked up one of his dead comrade's swords and continued the fight on foot.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Gorthak the Piercer

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Gorthak quickly runs out of arrows as he downs one Rohirrim rider after another, his arrows marking the deaths of many men this day. Eventually, however, he runs out, and he growls in annoyance as he switches to his spear, charging down the hill toward the melee. As the horses begin to fall, those wargs which still have riders begin to disengage while those independent continue to ravage the fallen horsemen. They are winning by a landslide, but they are not without their own casualties. Bodies of men, horses, Uruk-hai, goblins, and wargs litter the battlefield. It is not a pretty sight. As the wargs disengage, the swordsmen charge in, yelling warcries in Black Speech as they hack at the men before them.

It is at that point that Gorthak joins the frey, elbowing past the lines of spearmen to get into the heat of it, running a man through right next to Mordren. The man's eyes go foggy as he collapses to the ground, and Gorthak turns his attention to Mordren as he pulls the spear out with a sickening crunch of ribs. He gives the captain one of his trademark grins and thrusts the spear toward his heart, planning on this being an easy kill...