Dog lord here . Want to say hello to all the neutrals.
I have a email address for the Duns and the Corsairs.
I need email addresses for Harad,Rhudaur and the Easterlings.
My email address isgator172000@yahoo.com
I will check the forum to see if you other guys have put up a e mail address and thank you .
James ghiotto/ dog lord
Has anyone heard a word from Khand? I’m beginning to suspect Clint forgot to include them in the game.
E&E
As we haven’t heard from any Free Peoples in 10 days, and we have only spoken to one of them,(you will note there is no contact information for any of them on this thread), thought I would mention that we are still down here.
Just sayin’ Cap’nQuahog, Sea Lord of Umbar
Friends, neighbours and potential enemies!
The Chiefs of the Easterlings are travelling from the furthest reaches of our lands and will convene in a few weeks to determine if the Easterlings will join in this war and if so on what side.
We wish you all well in your endeavours.
The Easterling commander ordered his men to halt for the night, picking a quiet valley floor, with gently running stream to water the horses. His men settled down for a peaceful night…
…as the cock crowed the Easterlings roused themselves; the General, laden fork poised with a mouthful of steaming ham and eggs was rudely interupted by a frantic messenger…
‘General!!’ he blurts out, come quick!
With a sigh the Genral places his fork back on his plate, and patiently folds his napkin before rising form the table, the only sign of annoyance was in his rather brisk discard of the napkin onto his seat.
He exits his tent and surveys the morning dawn light and gentle mist…‘well what is it Hadri?’
The messenger points to the hills…
Across the skyline at either side of the valley, spears, horses, shields, and all the panoply of war are arranged, staring down and across at the Generals camp and each other…
…Oh dear…not such a good place to camp after all methinks…
So my dear colleagues contrary to rumours the Easterlings have not declared, we are neutral. The fact we’ve stumbled onto y’all is just coincidence. I’d left our move late to try and avoid just such an incident…the road being the easiest way to get out of the way!
We will order defend and move orders as i don’t want any part of your battle. Please attack each other and not me!
Having had no contact from either side except a missive from Ren a couple of turns ago to which i replied on this forum i have no contact details of anyone so have not been able to advise.
Hope someone reads this!
Regards
Easterlings
Did Ren contact you via Ouija Board? My understanding is that his last words were “This shouldn’t be difficult. Hold my beer.”
I heard that as the crowd gathered for the challenge it was just as you described that Ren told his unclean servant to “hold my beer” but while trying to pass his beer, Ren accidentally spilled his beer all over the city square.
This egregious crime of alcohol abuse sent the gathered crowd into a fit of rage who went berserk at spilling the Mark’s finest ale and tore the Nazgul apart.
Lesson - Never spill the Mark’s ale!!!
lol! oh dear…poor Ren…i wondered why he went quiet!
The Easterlings, renown for their hospitality, have asked all their current guests to please make sure they don’t leave the place in a mess when when they leave. We are very pleased to see so many Dwarves, fresh from their diggy diggy holes (such a great tune!), and hope they will deposit a little silver to cover the costs of all the food and ale consumed from the local hostelries! 
As i said ladies and gentlemen; i’m neutral and will remain so for a few turns yet.
Thank you all for not attacking my meagre forces 
Your words from last turn ring true and you maintained your neutrality. Your guests will leave your fine pop centers unharmed and will continue on their way.
Also, we hope that seeing so many Blind Sorcerer bodies on the field of battle last turn was not too upsetting for any new recruits in your army that happened to be in the area.
The Northmen
In truth it was most alarming, but everyone assuaged their horror by looting the bodies. We nearly had enough unbroken pieces to make a full suit of armour!
Excellent note by the way, although i question some of the grammer! (like i know lol)
In the hills of Arnor at the Castle Fornost Erain, a battle formed. In the castle’s map room, the commanders of Cardolan and the Arthedain were forming their final plans. There was a doom hanging over the Hall as everyone knew that our armies would not be enough.
Eldacann examined a message just delivered from the field. The Royal Seal was broken and Eldacann read aloud,
“My cavalry fought hard, but the forces of the Witch King were too many. Murazor is here. The main blow of Angmar is coming to the capital. There will be 3 armies. Protect the people, and hold the castle. Help will come, but not today. King Argeleb”
Suddenly, the doors to the chamber swung open as a procession strode in. Shock fell across the face of all at the map table as Gaerdae of the Noldo strode forward with his lieutenants.
He stated, “My lords, the army of the Gray Havens has come. Let us throw down the shadow of Angmar together and send it back to whence it came.”
The morning light was reaching the walls when the horns blew to signal the attack. The small Arthedain force roared to life as it charged through the middle of the Free People line. Arthedain would be the bait in the trap. The forces of Ashdurbuk Zalg, Cykur, and Drurkarian seemed to retreat until it became obvious that they were falling back in order to ambush the Eldacann’s army from all sides. All seemed doomed until the cavalries of the Cardolan suddenly appeared to have surrounded the armies of the Eye.
When the Noldo army advanced in perfect unison, a most unusual thing began to happen. The largest of the Witch King’s army broke from formation with its two smaller armies. Wherever the Noldo army went, the Drurkarian’s army only attacked it. That left the small cavalries of Ashdurbuk and Cykur with no support. Left alone, the combined armies of the Arthedain and Cardolan were able to cut them down. Then, all remaining FP armies were able to hit the main body of the invading army from all sides.
During the search for the wounded, a whistle was heard from the battlefield. There was a small fracas for a brief time; then all went quiet. Soon after, Ashdurbuk Zalg of the Witchking was presented in bonds to the commanders of the Free Armies by soldiers of the field. Cheers and jeers were heard as he was led into the gates of the great city.
During the night of revelry, a messenger was led to the Great Hall. He presented the celebrating lords with a sealed scroll case. As Eldacann read the case, all eyes turned to him.
He looked up from the papyrus and stated, “The combined armies of Arthedain, Cardolan, and our new allies Rhudaur have reached the ancient crypt city of Carn Dum. It is now our turn.”
…further East…the good burghers of Ilanin surveyed the hostelry bill after the last of the visiting armies assembled outside of the town before moving off to who knows where.
'‘tis an extensive list … hogsheads by the dozen, a multitude of casks of ale, mead and wines from the hot lands of the south, chairs, tables, drinking horns, a feather boa, sundry plates, bowls, bedsheets and all manner of paraphernalia…’
The landlords and ladies looked at the burger, palms outstetched, the burger looked at the town council, who inconveniently looked at the floor, or gazed whistfully, as if deep in serious thought, out through the windows of the council chamber; a fine glaze of perspiration developed on the burghers forehead…his mind raced…99 gold pieces he reckoned to the tally…but how would he find such a Kingly sum!?
As the landlords and ladies leaned in towards the quailing gent, hands more firmly outstretched, faces hardened towards their prey, his erstwhile colleagues gazed with even greater intent at anything that wasn’t him, perspiration now visibly showing upon his pallid skin…at this moment a sound and confident rap was heard upon the door of the chamber…the tension broke, breath exhaled…the door swung open and a stout iron shod, fellow with extensive braided beard, tanned and weathered skin with a lively demeanour strode into the chamber and advanced towards the burgher…
‘Sir!’ said he ’ I bring a wee gift from my Lord to cover the costs of your hospitality’. He extended his muscled arm and deposited a large, heavy bag into the burghers clammy hands.
The burgher, accustomed to such transactions and with cat like swiftness opened the bag and gazed upon the golden contents, their light reflecting off of his somewhat shiny skin…with practiced skill he quickly appraised that 100 gold coins had been handed to him ( a cool 1 gold profit, and Dwarven gold to boot…) ‘My dear fellow, thank you and please pass on our thanks to your Lord, you are welcome anytime in peace!’
The Stout gentleman bowed low and a left the chamber.
Turning to the group the Burgher, raised himself confidently and handed out the gold to the now happy and convivial townsfolk.
Keeping one coin for himself he confidently flipped it high in the chamber, sun glinting off the spinning golden object, with thoughts of sun filled holidays, and easy days ahead he extends his hand in expectation of the heavy coins impact…a grey shadow flashes across his gaze and a wiry hand snatches into the air, the golden jewel vanished into a grey cloth ’ thank you Burgher, the Chief will be pleased you have paid your taxes’ a grimace of satisfaction crossed the face of the tax collector, lost within the folds of his robes he turns and leaves the chamber with the townsfolk…
Bereft, the burgher turns and sees his colleagues arrayed along the table, busily reading the various sheets of parchment, the chairman calls the meeting to order and the burgher sits at his place, ah the joy of meetings; all thoughts of the sunny uplands slowly drift from his mind as the members debate the need for a focus group to be formed to determine if an action plan needs to be written, in preparation for a comprehensive review of the previous action plans, because really now is the time for action, and should we bring in those consultants from Procrastinate and partners…
…just when he thinks his life has come to an end a breathless messenger arrives with news from far afield…
Ok, not gonna lie. That was good.
