The leader. An Uruk-hai Blackarrow who haplessly puts up with the shenanigans perpetrated by his squad.
Nashtugar ("Nash." No relation to the guy from WTFIWWY. We think.)
Number Two. An Uruk-hai Warleader and Guzdugh's assistant, who is always ready to help his boss out of whatever situation he's gotten himself into (albeit usually after the sustained injuries).
Team Doctor. An orc defiler who speaks entirely in Funetik Aksent and tends to be the brains (for a given definition of "brains") behind whatever zany scheme the squad is attempting (usually without permission from Guzdugh or Nashtugar).
Oike (Should have been "Ike," but it sounds funnier...and it was already taken when I tried to create the character)
The group's third-best melee fighter...which isn't saying much. An orc reaver who can't remember which end of the swords to hang on to and which sticks in enemies. Also speaks entirely in Funetik Aksent like Forsach, and usually helps him carry out his schemes. Also has no brains whatsoever.
Forsach's pet. A warg pup who makes all other wargs look bad due to his ferocity (or rather, lack thereof).
And with that, let us begin our story....
CHAPTER ONE: A DAY IN THE 'MOORS
The scene: A large tent somewhere at the base of Mount Gram. Inside this tent, an uruk blackarrow is sleeping peacefully in his cot. On a table beside him rests a rooster. The rooster opens one eye, and cautiously peers about. When it's certain all is well, it lets out its obligatory "####-A-DOO --"
The uruk grabs the rooster by the neck, strangling it. He proceeds to bash the rooster against the table until it's nothing but a beak and a pile of feathers. He holds it up in the air, causing a roast chicken to fall out. He stands up and rubs his eyes.
In walks the team medic, a goat-masked defiler. He surveys the scene.
FORSACH: Guz! Youah awayke! 'Baout toime. Aoh, and look! Yaou cooked brahkfast, ahll bahy yasewlf!
GUZDUGH: I did? **looks down** Of course I did! **frowns** What time is it, anyway?
FORSACH: Toime ta wahyke up!
Forsach throws the flap of the tent open, letting in a stream of sunlight. Guzdugh is blinded by the light.
GUZDUGH: AAAAHHH!! MY EYES! MY EYES!!! AAAUUUUGGHHHH!!!
FORSACH: Yeah, anuvah dahy has begun! Come on, boss! Let's have some raoast chicken!
Forsach grabs the chicken and heads outside, leaving Guzdugh helplessly flailing about in the tent. When the latter finally recovers, he proceeds outside (covering his eyes to shield them from the blinding sun). He finds Forsach sitting at the table with a knife and fork in his hands...and a bib around his neck.
FORSACH: Took ya long enough, ay? Oi'll cut a sloice fuh yaou and a sloice fuh mae.
Forsach cuts a tiny slice of the chicken, and lays it on Guzdugh's plate. He then takes the rest of the chicken and puts it on his own plate. Guzdugh's jaw drops to the ground *clunk*
FORSACH: Whatsa mattah? Oi cut yaou a sloice, just loike Oi sayd!
Guzdugh picks his jaw up off the ground, and sits down at his seat, grumbling. He quickly finishes off what little chicken he has, and watches in amazement as Forsach fits the entire chicken into his mouth.
GUZDUGH: What've you got under that mask -- an empty hole?
Without answering, Forsach wipes his face (or rather, his mask), and stand up.
FORSACH: Aokahy! Oi'll wahyke the boys! Yaou gao and sae what mission wae've got tadahy. *whistles* Heah, Blackone!
A tiny warg pup runs out of a nearby tent, and nudges Forsach's leg. He pets the warg.
FORSACH: Deah's a good boy! Heah -- have a baone.
Forsach tosses the chicken bones to the warg pup, who begins enthusiastically chewing on them. Forsach then proceeds to a nearby tent, and opens it, to find an uruk warleader inside...sleeping peacefully. Forsach reaches into a nearby closet, and pulls out a gong that looks far too big to fit inside. Producing a club, he flicks his eyebrows at the audience and smacks the gong.
The warleader leaps a metre in the air, then comes back down with a crash that breaks his cot. He rubs his head.
NASHTUGAR: Forsach! I might have known. What're you doing in here?
FORSACH: Just mahykin' shohe youah awahyke! Oi oahreadahy waoked Guz. Toime ta roise an' shoine!
Forsach walks out of the tent, leaving Nashtugar amidst the remains of his cot, rubbing his head.
Meanwhile, Guzdugh has received the days orders from War-Tyrant Akulhun. He walks back to his squad's section of the base, and finds Nashtugar doing roll call.
NASHTUGAR: Oike! *looks about* Oike!! *no answer* OIKE!!
When there is still no answer, Nashtugar turns to Guzdugh.
NASHTUGAR: We're missing one, boss.
GUZDUGH: OIKE! Where are you?!
Guzdugh looks up at one of the tents on the hill. He walks inside it, then reappears a minute later, dragging a (sleeping) reaver behind him. The reaver has a massive smile on his face, and is still holding his swords...backwards (as in, his hands are wrapped around the sharp ends, yet amazingly reveal no cuts). Guzdugh drags the orc to the line and drops him beside Forsach.
GUZDUGH: There! Oike is accounted for.
NASHTUGAR: He's still asleep!
GUZDUGH: Not my problem! I'll toss him ahead of the charge to serve as fodder for enemy attacks! That's all he's good for, anyway.
NASHTUGAR: *looks at list* Okay...Oike. Now, Guz...what's today's mission?
GUZDUGH: Today our job is to scout Glan Vraig. Supposedly the enemy is massing reinforcements for an all-out offensive against Tol Ascarnen (which, as you may remember, we recently recaptured). It's a valuable forward position, so we can't afford to lose it! If we do, other important outposts will be left vulnerable to attack -- maybe even our position here, in Gramsfoot!
FORSACH: Ha! Loike dat'll evah happen!
GUZDUGH: SILENCE FOOL! We've lost enough of our troops in the Ettenmoors these past few months alone! Seven years -- SEVEN YEARS it's been since we arrived here, and not ONCE have we managed to take Glan Vraig! I don't know what they've got there, but whatever it may be, we cannot afford to lose Gramsfoot! That is why it is IMPERATIVE that we hold Tol Ascarnen at all costs! It serves as a kind of shield against assault upon Gramsfoot. Now..are there any questions?
FORSACH: *raises hand* Aoh, Oi have one!
GUZDUGH: Any questions from someone besides Forsach?
FORSACH: Pick mae! Pick mae!!
OIKE: Oi have one.
FORSACH: Question! QUES-TION!!
GUZDUGH: OIKE! What's your question?
OIKE: What is da wing velocitay of a lahyden swallaow?
GUZDUGH: Any questions from someone besides Forsach that are RELEVANT to the discussion at hand?
FORSACH: *leaps in the air* Oi have a question! OI have a question!!
GUZDUGH: Good -- that's what I like. No questions! Now, Slap and Tickle Gang *shudders, he hates the name* MOVE OUT!
The squad known as "The Slap and Tickle Gang" moves out of Gramsfoot, taking the secret route that allows them a safe way to the base of Dar-gazag. Up hill and down dale, through forests of ancient trees (and huorns), through rivers, over mountains, into caves and tunnels that crisscross through the earth, across wide plains of --
GUZDUGH: HAAALLLT! *turns around* All right; where are we? I don't know what this place is, but it is most definitely NOT the Ettenmoors! FORSACH! You have the map -- tell us where we are!
Forsach pulls the map out of his pocket, and reads it.
FORSACH: Accoahdin' ta dis map, we'ah somewheah in de middaow of Brae-lahnd.
GUZDUGH: Ugh! Slap and Tickle Gang -- REVERSE MARCH!
Back across the wide plains of Bree-land, into tunnels and caves that crisscross through the earth, over mountains, through rivers, through forests of ancient trees (and huorns), up hill and down dale the Slap and Tickle Gang proceeds, until they find themselves back at Gramsfoot, none the worse for wear (except for the huorn branches that Guzdugh is still pulling out of his back -- those things stick like crazy).
OIKE: Swaet hoame!
GUZDUGH: But -- but -- we're right back where we started! We've accomplished nothing!
NASHTUGAR: Well, what now?
GUZDUGH: *groans* Slap and Tickle Gang...move out...again....
Up hill and down dale, through forests of ancient trees (and huorns), through rivers --
The rest of the squad keeps walking.
GUZDUGH: I said STOP!!
The rest of the squad still continues walking. Guzdugh, trying very hard not to snap under pressure, lets out a massive groan.
The squad halts.
GUZDUGH: This way!
Guzdugh leads the squad through the forests west of Glan Vraig. Eventually, they come to a spot just a stone's throw away from the great elven fortress. Guzdugh leads the squad to a spot where a council of elven warriors is currently planning for a coming battle.
GUZDUGH: Shhhh! Don't make a sound! Remember, elves have ears like hawks!
FORSACH: But youah mahykin' saound!
FORSACH: Puhaps Oi could entatahyn yaou wif a song Oi compaosed on moi fiddow.
Forsach pulls out a fiddle.
What follows is a sound best described as ALL the cats being drawn and quartered at once. Guzdugh twitches at each screech, his hairs standing erect seemingly of their own accord. The elves look up from their conference, hearing the unearthly screeches coming from just outside their fortress.
ELF: Good heavens! It's a Nazgul! ABANDON YOUR POSTS!!
The elves flee from Glan Vraig. Forsach watches as they depart, and looks at Guzdugh in satisfaction.
FORSACH: Wewl, Oi think dat went rahther wewl, daon't yaou, Guz?
Guzdugh is standing completely rigid and motionless, save for the occassional twitch.
FORSACH: Guz? Guz?? Haey Nash, can yaou gimmae a hand wif Guz?
NASHTUGAR: What? I can't hear you with these earmuffs on!
Forsach removes Nashtugar's earmuffs.
FORSACH: Oi sahyd, can yaou gimmae a hand wif Guz?
NASHTUGAR: What? *sees Guzdugh's condition* Oh, sure.
Nashtugar carries Guzdugh all the way back to Gramsfoot, with the rest of the squad following. War-tyrant Akulhun looks at the squad as they approach.
AKULHUN: Well? Was your mission successful?
NASHTUGAR: Um, well...yes, sir. It was successful.
AKULHUN: I see. What's your squad leader doing in that position?
NASHTUGAR: Honestly sir, you don't want to know.
Several hours later, Guzdugh finally wakes up.
GUZDUGH: Ooohhh, my head....
Guzdugh rises, still shaky. He shambles over to the table, awaiting his meal.
GUZDUGH: What's on the menu?
FORSACH: Maggotahy bread!
Forsach thumps some bread down on the table. Maggots are, indeed, crawling about it.
NASHTUGAR: We ain't had nuthin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days!
Peter Jackson rushes onto the stage.
PETER: NO NO NO!! Nash, you're getting the scripts mixed up! Only the White Hand uruks are supposed to complain about the bread!
NASHTUGAR: Really? Let me see. *looks at script** Oh, yeah...I forgot about that. Um, shall we try that again, Mr. Jackson?
PETER: Yes, let's! And try to remember your lines this time!
NASHTUGAR: Of course.
PETER: Dinner scene, Take Two!
GUZDUGH: What's on the menu?
FORSACH: Maggotahy bread!
NASHTUGAR: My cousin in Isengard gets maggoty bread sometimes. It's a staple -- apparently the menu there is exclusive enough to have had meat taken off it at one point. As in, all types -- no beef, no pork, no poultry, no elf, no dwarf, no man, no halfling...not even any beorning! That's how cheap Sharkey is, apparently.
FORSACH: *shivers* Remoind mae nevah ta gao ta Oisengahd!
AKULHUN: Hey, Guz!
GUZDUGH: Yes sir?
AKULHUN: Get over here! I'm giving you tomorrow's orders a day early.
Guzdugh walks over and grabs the orders, then walks back to the table.
FORSACH: Wewl? What's it sahy?
Guzdugh opens the orders.
GUZDUGH: Ahem! Guzdugh and company...tomorrow you will be transferred...to Isengard.