Patrols in the Tark War

The road, between massive orc camps in Osgiliath and the Crossroads of North Ithilien.

Shagrat stalks through thick puddles of mud and muck amid a grey drizzly November rain. The earth is sodden among the stony ruins of ancient roads, and battered with a year's passage of hordes of orcs.

Grasskhaguk sits under the shadow of a ruined wall, watching the camp about him. He notices Shagrat and raises a hand in salute, nodding.

Shagrat nods and steps close to Grasskhaguk. He turns and spits into the muck, his breath steaming and his saliva joining the assuredly cleaner rain. "What's the report?"

Grasskhaguk stands up as Shagrat approaches, and speaks, rubbing the back of his head, "Hmmm, well, Master, there isn't anything to report today, but there have been whiteskins in the woods and hills east of here. I've ran into a couple in a patrol with Tek'rak Raggok and later I've found a lone one as I was patrolling that area myself."

Shagrat raises an eyebrow. "Oh? How long ago was all this?"

Grasskhaguk grunts to himself and frowns thoughtfully. "The patrol with Tek'rak Raggok was last week, but I found the whiteskin there four days ago, Master. And yesterday there were fresh prints in the mud. Whiteskins' I'd say they were."

Shagrat nods, grumbling. "Aye. And they won't steer clear for long, even after tasting a bit of punishment from Raggok."

Shagrat looks up at the rainfall for a moment, grumbling curses.

Grasskhaguk nods and taps his quiver, "If I had these when I found the whiteskin he'd have a couple of them in him by now. I would have killed him with my own hands, but there were more approaching and I was alone. A couple more trackers would be helpful, master..."

Shagrat nods his massive head. "I daresay they would! And as soon as more are trained and can see straight and walk in a straight line, we'll send them out. In the meantime, you worry about your job, not about our manpower. What have you learned about how the Tarks move in the wood hereabouts?"

Grasskhaguk scratches the top of his bald head and looks puzzled for a while, then speaks, "How they move? Well, one thing I know they don't come this way to get east, so I'd say they have another way to cross the river. And...I've noticed they keep to the southwest of the crossroads most of the time, probably too scared to cross the open roads, I'd say."

Shagrat growls. "Southwest, eh? Damn them. Spread the word--step up the patrols again. No Tarks are to go south of the Crossroads from now on. None."

Grasskhaguk nods, and pauses for a while, then points at the river to the east, "Master, the only way to do that would be patrolling the whole river and we don't have the trackers to do that...Even if we did, they probably cross it during the day when our eyes don't work right and them rivers aren't too good to track for smell, even whiteksins'."

Shagrat growls and nods. "That's what the officers are for. We need to learn what tracks the Tarks use most. Then watch those tracks during the day, and leave the raiding until nightfall, when you snufflers can root them out."

Grasskhaguk grunts and nods, smiling, "Aye, Master, you're right, and I'd say I know one of their places. It's in them hills to the southeast of the crossroads, that's where we found them both times and I'd say that's the way they came when there was that attack on the crossroads some time ago."

Shagrat smiles, his fangs gleaming in the rain-infested twilight. "Ah. Excellent. Use that, then. Watch for them there, and see where they come from and where they go... then we can strike them down in every place."