After I had forged my ultimate enemy, I called upon Lamlug once more, to kill and bring new warriors in, inspire them to create warriors worthy of joining Lamlugs side after the death of his allies. Soon we went up against a flame monger. A scrawny little Archer with a flaming helmet, and the Trump card of an explosive crossbow. I battled his body guards so that Lamlug could destroy the Warchief. As we battled he kept Lamlug on the ropes, burning him in the explosions. As I killed the last one of his guards however, the flame monger fired one final shot, the explosion enveloping and ending Lamlugs glorious life before I could act. In a rage I totally slaughtered the Flame Monger, leaving nothing but his head, mounted on a pike. Then donning a dark persona, I killed all that stood in the army, leaving only three uruk standing. My Nemesis, and his two guards. They would tell the story, spread fear. So that one day, one Uruk would take the mantle, Destroyer. Then and only then would I be appeased. Twice this occurred, and both times the warriors fell to the warchief I turned them on. One to his master and second guard, the other to his first opponent as warchief. Each time they passed I killed all but my nemesis. Then, there was none but the dark. None who knew, the loss, the suffering, the rage I felt. But I never saw, from the shadows he was watching. Waiting. Casting off each of his weaker forms to grow stronger. To grow to the true mantle of a destroyer.