A cold moon shone down on the mountain vale. It was a quiet place, hidden away from the prying eyes of men. This is where they would meet, and he would be awaiting their tribute.
Thang watched as they began to arrive in small bands, cursing one another in the Black Speech as they hobbled down from secret entrances and hidden caves. The goblins of the Misty Mountains were sparse in these days. A race that thrived off of war and pillage suffered in times of peace.
The first tribe to arrive were the Kishkhoth, and especially savage band of Uruks from the far north, they came dressed in fur and carried long pikes. There were twenty or more, all short but broad shouldered. Many had bone piercings in their noses, lips, ears, and brows. They marched in a staggered collumn flanked by a dozen of enormous black Wargs with shimmering golden eyes. There howls echoing off the distant mountains as the party came over the lip of the valley.
From the far off south torches formed a long line of the largest horde, Orcs of the Black Chasm, Moria, who called themselves the Balchoth. Thang smiled beneath his shroud, long fangs glittering white in the moonlight, the aliance of the Urloihoth meant more than Orcs to fill his ranks, a greater power lay hidden in the old dwarven ruins.
On the heals of the Kishkhoth came the Garmhoth, what few their were to count, ten perhaps, representing serveral small tribes from the Ruin of Angmar that still marched under the old banner of the fallen Witch King of old. A mighty Uruk, who called himself the General drove the Garmhoth before his small horde of Gundabad, wearing ancient armor that sporting crests that had long since lost meaning even to them.
The last tribe to arrive were the Thuringhoth, Thangs neighbors, and servants if he wished, though they served the self appointed Great Goblin Angtho, even he was at the service of the Son of Thuringwethil if it was commanded of him.
The Thuringhoth had toiled day and night preparing the valley below the Northern Pass for the arrival of their distant kin
At last they were gathered , Thang cast back his hood, to reveal a pale angular mannish face. Were it not for the long sharp ears and crimson eyes he coupld easily of been mistaken for a Man.
He stood upon a great slab of stone with sockets set in the four corners. Some feet behind him three massive figures stood, still as statues, dark grey in the moonlight.
For the smallest of this trio of Trolls, Tom, this was his first venture east of the mountains, though Bert and Bill had served Thang many times before.
Bill assured him that the vampire paid well, secret treasures from the sunken kingdoms of old. "All's we gotta do is this one 'ickle load," he said, "an set them stones in place an the loots all ours."
Tom wasn't so sure now, this Lord Thang unnerved him, his bright peircing eyes, like rising sun turning his stomache with every glance.
Now the goblins from the mountains gathered around Thang. The Vampire stepped forth, raising long whispy fingers towards the sky, "welcome people of Morgoth," his voice was sharp but clear and commanding.
The Wargs and Uruks howled in return, Snaga fell on their faces.
Thang spread vast wings, bats spiraling around him, "shall we begin!"