Othrak's Journal - Scratched into rusted iron.

  (Date unknown - sun don't shine down here)

  ---

  The Mines

  Stone taste like ash in teeth. Like defeat.

  Been swingin' this rust-pick since grog turned black at the Feast. Since the Ranger broke my skull with his ghost-hand. Since they took my name and gave me chains.

  Now I'm just "Traitor." "The big one." Words burn worse than brands.

  Pick. Pick. Swing. Crack.

  Sweat drips down back. Soaks the lash marks. Salt findin' home in open flesh.

  Arrow wound in leg still oozes when I move wrong. Good. Pain means I'm still in the world. Still got hate burnin'. Every Uruk needs somethin' to feed on--mine's vengeance now.

  Beside me, softskins dig. Skinny arms, hollow eyes. They don't look at me. Can't tell if it's fear or pity. I spit in the dirt to make 'em stop thinkin' it. Weakness spreads like sickness. Don't need it.

  One of 'em stares too long--so I growl from deep in my chest. He flinches. Good. Even in chains, I command fear. Fear is Power when you got nothin' else.

  "Oi! Skull-splitter!"

  That name. Meant to mock now. Was my title once. Earned with blood and victory screams. Uruks remember glory even when it's taken. Memory is the only thing they can't chain.

  Gruzg the Overseer strolls in, whip coiled like a snake ready to strike. His laugh is wet, throat all mucus and meat. Wears his cruelty like fancy armor.

  "Pick ain't movin', traitor. Want me to remind yer muscles?"

  He raises the lash. I stand tall--taller than him, taller than most. Let him swing it. It kisses the old scars. Feels like wind on skin now. Body learns to forget what mind can't.

  "Harder," I demand, teeth bared. "Maybe I'll feel it next time."

  His grin fades. Fear flickers behind his eyes. Even the whip-holders fear somethin'.

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  That's my Power now. Let them hit. Let them try. Show 'em I don't break easy. Strength ain't always in the swingin'--sometimes it's in the standin'.

  Later, one of the softskins slips me a sliver of meat. Barely enough to feed a rat. His hands shake. He whispers, "You were meant to be captain once."

  I snarl back, eyes narrowed to slits, "I am captain. Just forgot my armor."

  Truth is, armor ain't what makes the warrior. Pit bosses know this. Dark Lord knows this. Ranger learned it. Soon, they'll all remember.

  ---

  The Summons

  Torchlight flickers down the tunnel. I smell oil and rot--Uruk guards comin'.

  Two of 'em. One with a brand across his cheek. Ranger's work. His eyes dart around, lookin' for ghosts. The other's got teeth filed to points, skull-trophies hangin' from his belt.

  "Time fer a lil' talk, traitor," says the branded one. "Captain wants yer screams tonight."

  They yank my arms. Shackles bite bone. I don't struggle. No point wastin' strength.

  This is part o' the climb. All Warchiefs bleed, some just do it backwards. Pain is the path up from the mines. Always was.

  They drag me past the forges where grog bubbles and steel screams. Past the pit fights, where grunts cheer while knuckles bash brains. The rhythm of Mordor; metal, blood, fire. Been this way since the mountain birthed the first Uruk.

  Then I see Ratbag.

  He's laughin' from atop a crate, shoutin' orders like he earned 'em. Armor don't fit. Sword's still sheathed. But he looks proud, puffed up like a corpse floatin' in the swamp.

  Captain's marks fresh on his face. My marks. My command. My glory. My honour.

  He sees me. Eyes twitch. Fear ripples through his skinny frame. Remembers what I was--what I am. What I'll be again.

  He only nods.

  Don't worry, Ratbag. I ain't forgot the Feast. Ain't forgot the poison in the grog, or the Ranger's hand on my mind. Ain't forgot how you slipped into a position that's rightfully mine.

  A toast to you soon--one with fire on the rim and blood for the drinkin'.

  They throw me into the dark. Slam the gate. I hear hooks clinkin'. Smell blood dried thick on stone. The questioning room. Where secrets leave with flesh.

  Next entry's gonna hurt.

  Good.

  I want it to.

  Pain is just another enemy to slaughter.