Chapitre 3: Ch.2 Fear

Third person POV

The Witch King spotted them long ago, a human child being chased by three small creatures he doesn't recognize; he contemplates what they are as he grows closer watching them. They are cruel and crude as they tear at the young boy with primitive flint knives even after his death they became so engrossed in their little game that they barely noticed the chill run down their spines and they didn't notice him even when he was five feet from them.

'What simple creatures' Watching them tear at the boy's body with feral abandon he feels disgust build within him, not at the action but at the disorderly way they do it, savagery has its uses but he has always hated disorder when he built Angmar he managed to forge an army of trolls as orderly and disciplined as the knights of Arnor.

In a voice that seems to echo in the very souls of the goblins and that could freeze even the hearts of the bravest men the Witch King demands "Stop attacking that corpse and answer my questions" Hearing this the Goblins freeze and look at his looming figure his natural aura magnifying his true size in their cowardly eyes the ones closest to him start to shake as the one at the back of their little pack starts darting its eyes around looking for a chance to flee.

He takes another step toward the terrified beasts, to him the step was light and silent but to these lesser beings, it was like booming drums heralding their doom. "Where are we?" His voice sent chills down their spines and froze the blood in their veins. The excitement they felt only moments before was gone in an instant. The Witch King draws his blade pointing it at the gut of the closest one "I shall not repeat myself."

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Goblin pov

'Why me, what in Mork's name did I do to deserve this? Me 'nd the boiz waz just krumpin som 'ummez wen de yungin ran soz we thots we'ds 'ave some fun. But diz scary one showed up say things we'z don't get' These thoughts raced through the biggest of the goblins who just so happened to also be the one farthest from this scary 'umme.

"Izg shall nar skamm izish" The cold of the frozen air around the goblin was nothing compared to the chill that came from this 'ummies voice and once he drew the sword the goblin's mind was gripped with fear of that blade and when it pointed at the gut of one of the other goblins he felt like this was the end...but then in that same chilling voice the 'ummie said, "Do you not understand Black Speech?"

'Even though me 'nd my mates got what the hummie said this time it was too late we was too scared to say anything back' With that thought the goblin heard one of his gang mates screeching before he heard a wet splat and a solid thud.

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Third person

The Witch King effortlessly split the stomach open of the first goblin causing its foul insides to spill out onto the snow staining it crimson as it fell next to them groaning, sobbing, and slowly dying. "I have grown tired of waiting for you to speak or do you not understand me now" The Witch King practically growls this question in Westron at the group having grown tired of waiting for these lesser creatures to answer him. "Perhaps disemboweling one of you wasn't enough, shall I gut another?" He once again points the now crimson tip of his sword at another goblin's stomach.

One of the goblins squeals, "We understand you now, oh great and powerful one."

The Witch King could tell that the beast before him was just groveling for its life and he enjoyed it knowing that the beast had submitted to his will, slowly he lowered his blade and asked. "What are you and where are we"

If the goblins weren't consumed by fear they would have been dumbfounded by these questions but the one who spoke previously answered again. "We-wez are Goblinz and-and this is Troll-country"

Pondering this information he then asks "Where is this Troll-country compared to Gondor or Mordor?"

The goblin shivers before saying "We'z don't know where this Gonder or Mordur is"

'How do these goblins not know the location of Mordor?' After asking himself this the Witch King questions the goblin again "Then what about Gundabad or Moria?"

The goblin once again says that it does not know of those places confusing the Witch King even further as Moria is one of the largest dens of goblins. 'Petty soul consumed one soul point gained' This unknown voice drew his attention as he started to look around for its source noticing that the goblin he cut down crawled quite the distance before bleeding to death. 'Was its death the cause?' Turning to face the three goblins he swiftly comes up with a simple way to get an answer and with a strike faster than it could see he cleaved a goblins head from its shoulders. 'Petty soul consumed one soul point gained' The voice drowned out the cries of the remaining goblins as they shook in fear.

'So I know the source of these points but what can they be used for?' As he asks this question a transparent piece of parchment appears floating in the air before him written on it are the names he is familiar with.

Section One

Servants:

Rogash 10,000

Karsh 7,500

Hwaldar 3,000

??????????

'What is this?' The Witch King looks at this strange translucent parchment reading three names he hasn't thought of for a long time they were his loyal warriors leading his armies against Arnor perhaps they could be brought back to serve once again. 'I will leave that for when I gather enough of these so-called soul points to use this parchment'

'These goblins are worth a pitiful amount of points and their minds are weak...Why did I not think of this before?' the Witch King slowly reaches his hand towards the head of the goblin who spoke to him green energy gathering around it. The Goblin squirms and screams but he is unable to move from that spot whether by magic or fear something holds him still and as the hand touches his head his soul is laid bare before the Witch King all of his experiences, everything he learned and all that he knew from his birth is shown.

"What, these goblins are not tortured elves but a type of fungus?" The last goblin flinches at the sudden outburst as he stares at his friend as he convulses in the grasp of this monster.

"I see so you are a fungus-based race called greenskins with several subraces your group came here led by an Ork named Grizzboch. You have attacked a human caravan and your small group chased this child through the forest after who I believe is his father told him to run as he and the other adults fought" The Witch King releases the goblin whose eyes have become cloudy and unfocused as it stares aimlessly into the distance. 'Petty being dominated update in progress.' The voice returned saying something different this time but the Witch King didn't understand what it meant by update in progress. As he loses focus the last surviving goblin tries to make a run for it but only makes it a few steps before its former companion tackles it and the Witch King dominates it too.

"Hmm from the memories of these two, the greenskins in this area number a little over two hundred, this will be an exciting challenge" The Witch King looks in the direction of a pillar of smoke and continues his match with two glassy-eyed goblins following behind him.