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BANG!
Pils awoke with a start.
"Gondor? Elves?! What "
BANG! BANG!
"Ugh.. my head.."
Pils temples throbbed as he rolled over in his luxurious hobbit-skin cot.
Despite his success - not the least of which being his recent promotion to
Captain - Pils had taken to strong drink. A lot of strong drink. And last night
was no exception.
Captain Pils was used to breakfast in bed, but ever since Assius left the Army,
he had to fend for himself.
"Where the hell is that good-for-nothing Garyn," Pils muttered, "Im hungry."
Garyn was, of course, Pils trusted Master Sergeant. But ever since Pils
drunken decree that all orcs in Middle-Earth be protected - a decree Pils
secretly hoped would win him the heart of the Nazgul, Gatheus - his Master
Sergeant spent every waking hour on patrol.
"Sumbitch," Pils muttered as he gazed down at his his corpulent body.
Pils wasnt always fat. In fact, it wasnt along ago he was considered
quite the catch in the pulping community. A daily routine of switch-grip
hobbit pulping kept Pils fit for duty - and for love. Recently, though, an
ill-advised drunken rant on a public bulletin board brought Pils some powerful
and motivated enemies. Consequently, Pils found himself increasingly holed-up
in the Sunny Mountains, and his once-lustful goblin physique suffered as a
result. In fact, as much as Pils hates to admit it, his physical decline cost
him the love of his life - his Lieutenant, Assius.
Assius was a true specimin, a Krynnish goblin of size and substance. Prideful
of his physique - even to the point of vanity - Assius kept in fighting shape,
with scarcely an ounce of fat on his rugged body. Uncharacteristic of goblins,
Assius rippled muscles were entirely without hair. A dark-skinned goblin, his
hairless body showed every single muscle as if they were hand crafted from
granite. Assius hairlessness was not a freak of nature. No, it was very
intentional. Well known among Blue Dragonarmy recruits during his heyday as
General was the morning routine which involved, among other things,
shaving every Inch of the Generals well-muscled form.
Pils should have known a specimin like Assius respects only strength, and
Pils recent display of weakness disgusted Assius, who deserted to the Red
Dragonarmy.
Pils sighed.
"Garyn!! Bring me my breakfast!" Pils snarled. Silence. Pils grunted, then
farted, and finally heaved himself out of bed.
As Captain, Pils had a head for battle. Accustomed to the fog of war, he could
think on the fly and command many troops. One thing he couldnt command,
however, was his heart.
While his muscular, hairless, minotaur-like form filled Pils with an insatiable
lust, Assius was, at the end of the day, nothing more than a beautiful,
hairless lunk, fit for battle and the bedroom. And while Pils missed the thrill
of the cot after a night of drunken carousing, Assius did very little to
stimulate Pils intellectually. Gatheus, however, was another story.
Tall, dark, and brooding, the Ringwraith had long been the object of Pils quiet
admiration. They had a moment, or so Pils thought, years before, when Pils met
with Gatheus in the Dark Tower to survey battle plans.
Gatheus office was small, sparse, and silent, quite the contrast to the
Ringwraiths overpowering presence. Amidst the threadbare space, Pils
attention was immediately drawn to a small painting on the bookshelf.
"Who is that young man, sir?" Pils asked.
"Ahh. That? Doesssss he not look familiar?" The Ringwraith hissed.
"That wassss me when I wasssss King."
Pils gasped. As he looked closer, he could indeed see the resemblance - and he
saw something else, too. The man in the painting was handsome ravishingly
so. Long black hair fell down to his chiseled jaw, a jaw perched above broad
shoulders like a bird of prey. Pale clear skin gave way to dark, piercing eyes.
"I see the resemblance, sir. Do you ever think about this days," Pils asked,
cautiously.
The Ringwraith stood up from his desk and paced silently for a moment. Pils
couldnt help but notice a pale, ethereal ankle slip out from under his long,
black robes. Pils felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.
"Indeed who can forget hissss passsstt," the wraith breathed, "But it issss
the future we musssst discusssss."
Ever since that day in the Dark Tower, Pils desire for the wraith has grown
stronger with each day; in fact, his desire drove him to murder the previous
Captain, Gavatar, and take his place. In his delusion, Pils actually believed
the Captain of Angmars Army to be a fitting suitor for the ravishing,
ethereal Ringwraith.
Pils sighed.
"Garyn!!!! Bring me some rats. Ive got some pulping to do."