Board Thread:Middle-Earth Roleplays/@comment-26237442-20171007172331/@comment-26486187-20171008183823

Falandûr stands at the shipyards of Umbar. The shipyards have always been key to the city's survival, and now more that ever. It it's peak efficiency, 1 drydock can produce a standard Raiding-ship in just a week, but it's never enough.

A messenger runs over to him, with a note in hand. Apparently, Admiral Zalbizûs has scored a victory against the Gondorian Navy at the Mouth of the Anduin. He shrugs. It matters not. Only last week he lost half a division to a Gondorian Raid, and 2 days before that a Ranger Camp was succesfully takenout by his new Zalbizâr. That's how this war goes. That's how it's always gone. For the last 25 damn years.

But he sences something is changing. Falandûr is a man of tactics, a man of numbers. And the numbers tell him there are other threats to the Evendim Empire. Less and less Evendim armies are being sent south, and more of them are disperced to the borders. The the far northern Misty Mountains. To the barren steppes of the Wilderland. These has to be a reason for this. He briskly marches up the steps of the old Palace. He knows that this is a recource. A way to turn the war away from the South, to strech the Empire thin, and to pull it apart.

For now, he will wait. He must learn on these new people in the North. He must look for allies. It is the only way. He knows it.