Gleaned from the dusty scroll's invested in the halls of the Shepherd's ward in the Tower, here Konradr Greywolf has compiled said History of Barad'Dun.
Like all great beginnings, the discovery and settlement of Barad'Dun stretches far back well beyond living memory and is lost in the ever creeping mists of time.
Legend has it, a Numenorean Sailor was blown far off course while sailing the southern sea's of Middle Earth. When the storm abated, the spotted the wonderous coastline of an unknown continent far to the South. They followed the jagged, rocky coast's for days looking for a safe harbor to pull their ship out of the water and repair it. As they sailed along this wild, mysterious land, they spied Thick forests as tall and thick as the storied tree's of Mirkwood. The Further South they went, the warmer the clime. Jungle's sprang up, thick and steamy, dense with vegetation never before seen by the men from Numenor. It took them months to circumnavigate this vast land. They found wide, swift flowing river's, rolling fields of green heather waiting for herds of sheep, cattle and horses. What beast's roamed the interior of this land, they did not know, only their strange howl's and chattering could be heard.
They found themselves on the western shores. Here the land was divided between spots of good grazing lands and a belt of red tinged desert divided from the interior by a tall spine of black mountains. Then they saw it. Standing like a sentinel above the shore, a flat topped mound of black, glass like rock. It jutted into the ocean like the bow of a ship, breaking the waves that pounded against it mercilessly. Behind this natural breakwater was a beautiful crescent shaped harbour. Here is where they landed.
A carved wooden landing post was planted in the ground beside the rock. It held the image of the white tree and the land was claimed for Numenor. It stands there still. Overlooking this sacred spot, standing atop that mass of black rock is a mighty tower. A massive, yet beautiful structure, built like a tripod of Gold, red and amber colored Stone quarried from the nearby desert. This is Barad'Dun, the Western Tower. When the sun rises, blood red, in the east, the tower sparkle's like a star.
Barad'Dun began its life, or so the legend tells, as a minor way station for Sailor's and adventurer's exploring this new Southern land. But calamity brought strange bedfellows to these wayward shores. The Sea engulfed Numenor and thousands of refugee's sought safety and a new life here. It was they who built the tower, but they had help. Elves came to these lands too, and dwarves. Some stayed in the city while other's ventured off to mine the mighty mountains or find themselves a haven in the thick forests.
As the year's rolled on more people came. Men from Dale and Rohan, even from Harad and Umbar. Barad'dun became a frontier town, wild, rambunctious and free. Mercenaries, adventurer's, merchants, farmer's and even thieves found a home here. Orc's began to appear, troublesome at first, as all Orc's can be, but they too stayed. Every city has its den of darkness, where the ale flows free, and the Wenches must be payed for. Here Orc's, Goblins, the men from Middle Earth's mysterious East, and even a few Troll's, came to reside and flourish.
At this time; however, Barad'Dun was lawless. Anarchy reigned supreme as petty warlords of all races and creeds fought turf wars throughout the ever growing city. This was to come to an end very soon.
BLOOD OF THE WARLORDS.
It was during the time of the first Wars in Middle Earth between Sauron and the Men of the West, that this southern land too was bathed in blood. Refugee's from the fightinging in Middle Earth, flocked to the South. Men, and Orc's, in great numbers. The Warlords bought them up in droves, men formed units with Orc's and Dwarves and Elven Archers. Lawlessness threatend to destroy the city.
War broke out between the factions and blood ran in the streets. Six Warlords rose above all else and fought mercilessly amongst one another for control of the city. They controlled warbands of all races within Barad'Dun's borders. Ranulf, from Dale, controlled the North. Barathor, who claimed his ancestor was that very Numenorean Sailor that first laid eyes on this wonderous land, held the golden tower. Galagch, an Orc, and Suilimas, from Harad, held sway over the Hadash, the dark quarter of the city. Valymor, half man, half Elf, held the South. And the Western quarter, that which was built on a series of red Sandstone mesas, and known as the Hills of blood, was held by Drebold, a Dwarf adventurer.
Six months passed, each one bloodier than the next, til finally, only two were left. Barathor and Ranulf. The last battle fell on Ides of Nebelmond. It was a two day affair, with Ranulf pushing Barathor's milita back through the city and to the very edge of the sea. With their backs to the waves, Barathor stepped forward and challenged Ranulf to a champion's duel. They fought in the tradition of Barad'Dun tavern fights, with curved daggers. Ranulf landed a blow across Barathor's face, leaving a gash from chin to brow that would haunt his face for the rest of his days, but Barathor's blade struck true. Ranulf fell into the sand, there to be left to rot until eternity. A mound now rises at the legendary spot where his bones are rumored to lay. At night, when the waves pound the beach bitterly, one can hear a strange moaning. Some say it comes from the mound, and some say it is only the waves or the wind. Whichever it is, the Nightwatchmen always steer clear and have come up with a thousand excuses for doing so.
And thus the Warlord's War came to an end, and in its aftermath, Barad'Dun became a Kingdom. Barathor crowned himself on the 1st day of Heilmond as the first Adunakhor of Barad'Dun. His reign would span fifty years and see the city grow and become prosperous and powerful.
He was a ruler revered by his people and hated by those who dwelt in the other cities of the Southern continent. Barathor created the Royal Army of Barad'Dun to protect his kingdom. He only took the finest warriors to serve in it. It didn't matter if that warrior was a man, an elf, a dwarve or even an Orc. It only mattered that he was hard as Iron, with a wildcat's heart and steadfast loyalty.
On the 31st day of Weinmond, in the 50th year of his reign, Barathor died, not in battle, but in bed, stabbed through the heart by a serving wench with a 6 inch bladed dagger. He was buried in a pyramid shaped tomb. Constructed of the same Gold, Red and amber stone that was used to build the great tower. A flame burns eternally at its apex, while the skull resides deep inside. Some say the eye's still sparkle when a strong warrior touches the weathered bone.
There have been Sixteen Adunakhor since Barathor. All crowned on the 31st day of Weinmond in honor of he who came first and foremost. None have outshined Barathor's star. That is, none until our time.
THE GREAT WAR OF THE SOUTHLAND, THE RISE OF SURT, AND THE RESURRECTION OF THE ROYAL ARMY.
Barad'Dun under it's Adunakhor's became rich and prosperous on the might of it's Army, the strength of it's fleet and the acumen of it's leaders in business and, dare I say it, slight of hand.
Ship's from Middle Earth always berthed in the safety of Barad'Dun's harbour. Here they were taxed on the goods they were bringing to the Southern continent, but also a levy was laid on them as guarantee of their 'protection' while in the city.
The long ships of Barad'Dun's Royal Navy plied the Belegaer sea protecting the shipping lane's from Pirates, both from Umbar and Harad, but also the local swine from fyord's in the Ered Falas to the south. Of course, the Realm knew the value of a good raid as well. Dragon ships with private mercenaries in the employ of local merchants, or secretly by the Adunakhor themselves, ventured well into the Harnaer and even the Runaer seeking fortunes to be won on sea or land. This wealth all poured into Barad'Dun.
The jagged black peaks that dominated the ridge of mountains to the East of Barad'Dun was now controlled by her outposts. The Royal Army and it's mercenary Auxiliaries had moved into the mountains during the reign of Belearth, the 10th Adunkhor. They evicted the Dwarves, and Goblins who had made it their home, as well as a strange, race of men known as Lappas. This began the Dwarf and Goblin wars. The mountains and it's caves, caverns and mine's dripped with blood for twenty years. Finally Barad'Dun won. But many a hero was made in those dark, rocky crags, passes and dark caverns. The Army put Guard Forts throughout the mountain passes and signal beacon's on the highest peaks. These Guard forts collect travel fee's from any wishing to pass through the mountains. The Dwarve's and Goblins who remain, now must pay tribute to the Adunkhor to do so.
Barad'Dun also made friends and allies. Across the sea she still had many ties to old homelands in Middle Earth. Aggelgorod was a staunch friend.
Belearth died soon after his victory in the mountains. It was his son and successor, Arthanor who would be the last Adunakhor who claimed pure Numenorean blood. It was he that would lead Barad'Dun into its greatest challenge, and ultimately to her ruin.
THE DESERT ELVES.
The land of Elumbra is a legend as it is rarely seen or visited. It lies deep in the Desert far to the west, beyond the mountains and on the verge of the great Talath Gaya (The plains of Dread) where wild horseman thrive on the grasslands and black hills. Elves created Elumbra and live there still. Dark Desert Elves with mysterious ways. Elumbra is an Oasis, but it can not be seen. It is a mirage that reveals itself only for one week in the year. In the middle of Brachmond, during the height of summer when the desert is at it's hottest and deadliest, does the shimmering, glittering beauty of Elumbra show itself. Abundantly green and verdant with farms, tree's and houses of golden stone.
What gave Elumbra it's mysterious power, was the Sand Princess. A carved diamond as large as a new born baby, whose fire glittered in red, orange and gold just like it's desert environs. When Giladra, the queen of the Desert Elves touched the Sand Princess, it glowed like heaven on earth.
It was on the 14th day of Brachmond in the year TS 3004 that Elumbra shimmered from its perpetual mist and could be seen. It was the day Hakimota and his warband of Talath Gaya horsemen were waiting for. They charged headlong into the dreamy oasis. Never attacked before, the Elves were slow to awake to the danger, but awake they did. Elven Archer's began to take their toll of the attackers. But the charge was too headstrong to stop. They made their way to the temple and sacked it. The Sand Princess was taken and dissappeared in a cloud of dust as the horsemen rode off towards their wild homeland.
The Queen and an entourage of Desert Elf warriors traveled to Barad'Dun and begged Adunakhor Arthanor to help. He accepted and mobilized the Royal Army. Of course he knew this would mean war with the tribes of Talath Gaya. Being short of Horsemen and knowing this adventure would stretch his Army thin, he sent messenger's throughout the South Continent and as far as Middle Earth offering employment to mercenaires of any creed willing to travel to Barad'dun.
They came by the thousands, from the Outlands, the Northern Marches, Aggelgorod, Dale, the Nor islands, Harad and Umbar, even Elves from as far as Mirkwood, and Lothlorien. Men at arms, Archer's, spearmen, Orc's, Elves, Dwarves and Men. Some from the Southern Continent came as well but most were infantry. There arrived only one band of Horsemen, men from Rohan.
Arthanor, never the less, marched the Royal Army out of the city on the first of Heumond and headed west. He took the Horsemen and the standing army with him, leaving only one Regiment of his House Guard, One of Archers, and the Naval Marine contingents of what ships were still in harbour. There were also several unformed regiments of newly recruited mercenaries.
The Commander of the House Guard, was Surt son of Ureazgara, a leader of Mercenaries from the Outlands, former Captain of the Northern Guards in Middle Earth, and son of a Black Numenorean King. He had made a name for himself fighting in the mountains against Dwarves, Goblins, and the strange Lappas. The commander of the fleet was a Viking warrior, rumored to have orcish blood, named Kurn Blackwolf, who had traveled to Barad'Dun from his homeland in Middle Earth. He and his Mistress D'edra had been long standing members of the Fianna, a Warband of great renown. Surt's second in command and Master at Arms, was Heretic. It was their duty, while the Royal Army was gone, to protect the city and to train the new Mercenaries.
THE CAMPAIGN IN TALATH GAYA.
The Royal Army crossed the Desert in the hottest month of summer. Lack of water would plague them as hundreds died. The Desert Elves who marched along side the army, could find water, but without their Sand Princess, their magic was dying.
Hakimota's mounted archer's raided the marching column's endlessly. With a Whooping cry they would ride out of the sun, racing by the Infantry, raining iron shafts upon them as they went. The Horsemen of Rohan were too few. Arthanor would not permit them to give chase. He did not want to loose them to a surprise attack. But the men of Rohan were proud men and some broke the order and rode off, most never to be seen again.
So the Army began to die, but it marched on. Arthanor had one strong motive for continuing this quest. It was not to help the Desert Elves, but to help himself to the Sand Princess. He felt, with its power at his command, Barad'Dun would forever be invincible. He would lead the Royal Army on a campaign of conquest and bring the entire southern continent under his sway.
Grand dreams indeed. Soon to be washed away in blood.
THE BATTLE AT TARMACIRITH
The great pass at Tarmacirith was litterly the end of the world for the horsemen of the Talath Gaya. The mountains here were higher than any other on the continent and shielded by the Army of Atalante who controlled the Eastern coast beyond this great pass. Here Hakimota gathered his horsemen and turned to face the oncoming Royal Army.
The pass was broad but even with fewer men, Hakimota had a better chance of fighting here, where the Royal Army's numbers could not overwhelm him.
The battle began on the 9th day of Erntemond. Arthanor, remembering the great deeds of Barathor, the first Adunakhor of Barad'Dun, offered to fight Hakimota in a Champion's duel with daggers. Hakimota agreed. He rode out, as did Arthanor. But Hakimota had no sense of honor. He turned and fled and his backside was covered by a showe of arrows, many of which struck Arthanor. He was not killed, but grieviously wounded.
He gave the order to charge and the Royal Army pounded into the dismounted horseman's line. Arrows rained upon them, but they did not stop. Javelin's felled many, but they charge on. Rocks from the mountains sides were hurled down on them, but the line thundred on and with a war cry of "BARAD'DUN!!!" They crashed into the enemy. Driving them back and killing many.
Arthanor smelled victory, but it was not to be. Other tribes of Talath Gayan horsemen as well as men from Bale Rod and Orc's from Tathar orn and Morarda, even disgruntled dwarves from their own mountains, had gathered secretly beyond the pass. Hakimota had his signallers begin to beat on huge kettle shaped drums the size of elephants. Their booming made the very earth tremble. Within an hour, they had stopped. But the ground kept trembling, not the sounds of the drums, but to thousands of hoovebeats and marching feet. The trap was sprung.
A cloud of Horsemen formed to the left of the Royal army, while Men and Orc's formed lines to their rear and right. They were surrounded by enemies.
The Horsemen spent days riding along the entire front of the Army delivering volley's of death via arrow and javelin. The Army weakend, but held firm. Finally on the fourth day of the battle, the 13th day of Erntemond, the enemy charged into the Royal Army to finish it off. The fight would last all day, and blood flowed over the grasslands where to this day, poppies grow in the dark, red stained soil. The battle had lasted until nightfall. Some men of the Royal Army would escape into the darkness, but not many. Most were killed and hacked to pieces in an orgy of blood.
Arthanor was killed, without heir or successor. His head was cut off, impaled on a huge Onager bolt that would later be fired over the walls of the city he had loved. The victors held a huge feast. Royal Army prisoner's were not to be sold into slavery. Instead they were butchered in sacrifices to strange gods, or forced to fight in gladiatorial combat, or simply killed in entertaining ways for the amusements of their enemies.
The Sand Princess was forever lost. No one knew what ever became of it. Legends abound. Some say it lies in a hidden tomb somewhere in Talath Gaya. Some say it made it across the Tarmacirith pass into Great Atalante where it is hidden in a secret crypt. Other's say it made its way south to Morarda or the jungles of Tathar orn, or to the mountains of Lyg Lambe. Some say it resides close to Barad'dun, in the red lands of An Tir Dearg. A few even suggest it was recovered by the Desert Elves who were thus able to 'Vanish' at the very instant the Army was destroyed. One thing is for certain, the mirage of beautiful Elumbra has never be seen since.
THE SIEGE OF BARAD'DUN.
They did not stop with the destruction of the Royal Army. The combined enemy marched towards the west, heading for Barad'Dun. Many others joined them, sensing blood and the chance to humble this mighty city on the Western shore. Men, Orc's and Wild one's from Nziladun and Lyg Lambe. Worg riders from Morarda. Siege engines the Sacred Band a famed regiment from Atalante. The dragon ships of Agar Falath also sailed for Barad'dun. The mighty war of the Southern continent had begun.
The Western mountains could not be held. One by one the outposts fell. Signal fires burned from the high peeks in warning. A cloud of darkness swept over the desert. By teh 12th of Weinmond, Barad'Dun was surrounded.
The Siege began immediately. Onagers and catapults pounded the walls of the city with the same red, gold and amber stones that it was made of. Fireballs wreaked havoc within the Hadash, the closely built dark quarter of the city. It's close knit alleyways and bazaar's of wood, clay and hide, lit up like a funeral pyre. Only the Hills of Blood, the western quarter, and the magnificient Tower itself seemed impervious to the onslaught of stone and fire. Assaults were made from all sides and from the sea. The defender's were spread thin, but the defence held. The mood within Barad'dun was one of despair, especially on the day that the head of Arthanor was lobbed into the city.
THE RISE OF SURT.
Several times the assaults broke into the city and had to be repulsed. Surt led the charge eachtime, admonishing his men to smash into and through them. They were victorious, but each battle came at a cost. The price for Barad'Dun's survival was being paid in blood. Their numbers were running low and the city walls were beginning to crumble.
In one break in, the Orc's of Tathar Orn, formed a solid block of unmovable shields and spears between two stone buildings. Surt led a group of handpicked warriors to the roof of one building and using wood beams from the second floor, they bridged the gap between buildings and gingerly crossed over. Once in the other building, they hurried down to the street and charged into the rear of the Orc's who were then slaughtered.
finally several breaches were made and the men of the city fell back. They could not counterattack everywhere. Surt held the line steady, giving ground slowly so that the citizens of the city could make their way to the Tower. It would be there that Barad'Dun made her last stand.
The ships of realm were now defenceless as the landward side of the harbor was overrun. Those that could, made a break for the open sea only to be swarmed and boarded by dragon ships from Agar Falath which roamed the Belegaer at will. A few managed to catch the trade winds that blew north, and escaped. The rest of the crews and marines fled to the tower as their long ships were burned. Among them were Kurn and his crew from his beloved Wyvern that now smoldered under a fire set by himself rather than see his ship destroyed by the enemy.
Here they waited, familes and soldiers alike, for the end.
Food and water was limited but the tower, that mighty beautiful tower, was strongly built. Rocks lobbed against her from countless siege weapons, barely made a scratch. Some say she had been blessed by the Desert Elves when Arthanor had promised to help them recover the Sand Princess. She stood proudly, defiantly, amid the smoking, burning ruin that was the rest of the city. The only way into the tower was across the drawbridge over a deep, jagged chasm hewn in the very glassy black rock it stood upon. This rock was as sharp as razors and could not be scaled. Any who fell into that abyss would be skewered and bleed to death. They would never be fished out, the bodies would rot for eternity and that is why, to this day during the heat of summer, barrels of perfume are bought and dumped into the chasm. The nickname, Orchasm comes from the day a regiment of Orc's tried to charge straight across the drawbridge and through the ranks of Surt's warriors. Archers from above, citizen spearmen supporting the Army, and the swords and axes of the House Guards, killed them in droves and then a great shield rush knocked the rest over into the chasm to die horribly impaled atop one another. Writhing in an orgy of death.
The siege of the tower lasted six months. On the 7th day of Wonnemond, the defender's were at their end. So few stood at the gates that Heretic put forth that they burn the drawbridge to keep the enemy out. But of course that meant none from the tower could ever escape. They would all simply die of hunger and thirst, as so many already had.
The enemy feasted in the night. They knew the smell of doom lingered over the Tower. They could feel the despair in the very air, so silent and still, as if even the sweet ocean breeze had abandoned Barad'Dun to her fate. Victory would soon be theirs. They had gathered their forces and were preparing the final charge, damn the casualties. In the morning they would surge over that blood drenched bridge and not stop until they had reached the very top of the tower. Some families prepared for suicide, but Surt would have none of that. He gathered what was left of his army, and the people he had sworn to protect.
"A raven came to me last night. It bore a message. We will have help tomorrow, by Manwe's hand. Now is the time for Barad'Dun to rise. Listen to them out there!"
The enemy was drunk, laughing, singing, jeering at the doomed tower and the fugitives within.
"We can no longer stand here and wait to die! We must take the fight to them, we must push them out of our city, We can no longer fear them, we must KILL THEM! Are you with me my brother's of Barad'Dun?"
They shouted in joy. They were with him, to death or victory. The soldiers formed line, the civilians grabbed weapons of any kind and stood to.
Dawn began to sparkle over the horizon. It's usual bloody hue. A cry arose from the tower, an ear splitting yell that startled the few enemy that were even awake at this early morning, those not in a drunken stupor.
"Barad'Dun!!! Charge!!!" They came howling out of the tower, across the bridge in a solid block of shields and spears. They hit the enemy encampments like wolves. Blades sang a song of death. The enemy attempted to form, but they were sleepy, many were still drunk. Hakimota mounted some of his warriors and rode into the streets to stem the onslaught. He began to cleave a way through twards Surt, hoping to behead him as he had done Arthanor. Surt stood his ground, dodged two javelin's that the horsemen's chief through at him, then chopped his left leg off at the knee with a mighty blow of his sword. Hakimota flopped off his horse like a rag doll and was trodden to death under the hooves of his own men's horses. Everywhere Horsemen began to fall as 'Stormbringer', Kurn's elven blessed bow, let fly its deadly arrows. "Legolas be damned", he was heard to mutter. "I am the deadliest bowman alive!"
The enemy was falling back, leaving heaps of dead and dying, but here and there they formed and began to hold. For there were so many of them and so few from Barad'Dun. The tide begin to slow.
HELP ARRIVES.
They came from the sea. Ships from Aggelgorod, ships from Umbar, and Harad, all whom Barad'Dun had aided at one time or another. Even several long ships bearing a Wolf's headed prow. These were the ships of Konradr Graywolf's, Silver Wolves, his household guard. A year before, it was to Barad'Dun that Konradr's family had fled when their home on one of distant, lonely Nor islands, had been attacked by sea Raiders. His children had been kidnapped and Konradr formed his Silver Wolves to help find and rescue them. Whilest on that quest, the rest of his family and friends found safe haven in Barad'Dun. He promised to return that favour some day and when the Raven's brought news of the Realm's plight. He gathered all the ships he could and as many Norsemen as would come, and sailed. They met up with the combined fleets of Aggelgorod, Umbar and Harad and shattered the dragon ships that had been blockadeing Barad'Dun's beautiful harbour. They stormed ashore, plowing into the ranks of the enemy without even forming for battle. Blood flowed so dark that it is said this is the reason the streets of Barad'dun are forever a dark crimson in color. The battle surged on, but the enemies heart was broken. He began to flee. A throng of them headed West across the desert. Other's fled south. Their tents, and wagons and siege weapons were left or were burned in haste as they ran. The great war of the Southern Continent, was over.
In the aftermath, the city was rebuilt. There was no argument or dispute over who should lead Barad'Dun from this time on. Surt was the son of a King and a long lived Black Numenorean, as wise and honourable and fearless as any of that clan of people. His tribunal of officer's, those that had stayed by his side, Kurn, Heretic and D'edra, Shouted that he should be the new Adunakhor. The shout was taken up by his both his soldiers and the people who had suffered with him thoughout the siege.
Let it be known, should there be any dispute from any bloodlines of the previous ruler's of Barad'Dun, Surt, son of Ureazgara, was crowned Adunakhor on the 31st of Weinmond in the year TS 3008. From hence forward the years will be known by the year of his glorious reign.
SURT LEAVES, FOLLOWED BY KURN.
Surt began to rebuild both the city and the army. Mercenaries were recruited and training began. But fate stepped in. A message from the Middle Earth reached him. Trouble brewed back home. The darkness of Mordor was reaching deadly fingers into that distant realm. They needed Surt's help. He agonized over the decision, but felt he must go. He vowed to return to continue the rebuilding as soon as he could.
During the Month of Brachmond, Surt left. Kurn was left in charge of the Realm in his abscence. But fate, in time, would consume him as well and take him from his beloved Barad'Dun.
Let it be known on the 18th day of Heumond, a group of Barad'dun soldiers, traveled to Aggelgorod to train with them and to cement our realm's friendships. Making the trip were Kurn, D'edra, Konradr, Kilanos, Oddvar, Strider and Romeo.
By late Heumond, word had come from as far as Rohan, that the King, Theobold, was behaving strangely and it was believed he was under a black spell. Member's of the Fianna begged Kurn to return and help. With heavy hearts they felt they must go to their aid. He and D'edra chose to leave., hoping one day, like Surt, to return to Barad'Dun. A newly built long ship was granted to them from his fellow Norseman Konradr. Kurn named this beautiful gift 'The Wyvern'.
Let it be known that on the 8th day of Erntemond, in the 1st year of Surt's reign, Kurn Blackwolf and the lovely Lady D'edra Blackwolf left our fair shore's. Konradr Graywolf was chosen Shepherd in Kurn's stead for the heroism and timing of his aid during the darkest moment of the Siege of Barad'Dun.
Let it be known that on the 19th of Herbstmond, on the 1st year of Surt's reign, Barad'dun sent a party of Warriors to the Red lands of An tir Dearg. The reason for the visit was to foment a friendly relationship with our neighboring desert realm. The secret reason was a search for the long lost idol called the Sand Princess which rumor has it, may lay hidden somewhere in the red lands. The Warrior party consisted of Konradr, Knubbs, Strider, Dane, Nightmare, Romeo, Matt, Taylor and Alexander.
THE KING RETURNS AND THE RESURRECTION OF THE ROYAL ARMY.
Let it be known that on the 3rd of Weinmond, in the 1st year of his Reign, Surt returned to Barad'Dun. Some say that they witnessed tears in his eyes when the mighty Tower loomed into view on the sea's horizon. His first proclamation was about the Royal Army. It's long awaited resurrection could now begin, and Barad'Dun's glory would rise again.
THE PLEDGE.
All who enter, live and serve Barad'Dun now recite this pledge every morning while facing the Golden Tower.
I, ____________(name) pledge allegiance to the Kingdom of barad'Dun, to his Majesty the Adunakhor, long may he reign, and to the Royal Army that protects us. Forever may their banners fly above the Western Tower.
Compiled and Written down on this 26th day of Weinmond in the 1st year of Surt's reign by Konradry Greywolf, shepherd of Barad'Dun.
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Subject: The Official History of Barad'Dun. 
Mon Oct 26, 2009 5:36 pm
