Sherkoz and a long time friend of his, Naṇpar, had their backs against the swaying fences, foreign pipe-weed in their lungs, and their bows unstrung and lain across the floor. Sherkoz ran his fingers up through his hair, and old pipe dangling from his lip casually with his helmet tucked beneath his arm, then took the pipe from his mouth and looked to his friend, waving it at him as he spoke in the tounge of the east, "This army might be under Angmar, but I think we are all being played for suckers in the war. Most of these fellas would die for a cause they don't even understand. Me? I'd rather not be condemned to die because our people are under someone else's boot."
Naṇpar shot him an eerie look, extinguishing his pipe, "It's all about loyalty to our homelands.. A loyalty you don't seem to have.. Now what if Commander Hallrôd were to hear you talking like that? He'd have your head!"
Sherkoz huffed at the idea, "He may be a cold man, but he couldn't kill his own blood. He might kill you to make an example though." they briefly shared a laugh before Sherkoz made his tone more serious, "You must agree to some degree. Why are we doing this, when we could move off and do other things, besides face our ultimate demise?"
Naṇpar nodded his head once to him and put away his pipe, "I guess you may be right, my friend. Though these men take their work very seriously, were you to just run off they'd catch you, Eh?"
Sherkoz began to speak, but the sudden clatter of horses charging and spears flying up towards him was enough to stop him in his tracks. Rohirrim. The battle was quick, and merciless, apparently someone had informed a local squadron of Rohirric soldiers of the pressence of Easterlings nearby. They had every advantage - the elemement of surprise, the lack of visibility below the tree line, and numbers. The Mûmak reared on it's hind legs and nearly toppled the tower which it supported, arrows and spears pierced it from every direction. Sherkoz struggled to string the composite bow he so despised, it ended up falling from the top and falling through the trees, never to be seen again. Naṇpar was loosely holding onto a rail, his heavy armor adding far too much weight, narrowly avoiding his end as Sherkoz grabbed him by the beard and the shoulder and pulled him back atop the tower.
The Oilphaunt ahead of theirs fell quickly, crushing the trees below, and spilling out Easterling soldiers like blood from an open wound. The infantry men below were nearly slaughtered instantly, leaving but two Mûmakîl alive.. Hardly.. Crashing through the forests, they did their best to escape the Rohirrim and regroup. However horses are much faster than Mûmakîl. They ran throughout the night, the men atop the towers (with the exception of the bow less Sherkoz) fired arrows down upon their nimble and nearly invisible opponents, taking hours to finally drive them off. One of the Mûmakîl was horribly injured, and had to have arrows pulled from it's legs and body. The other was minority harmed. Commander Sherkoz Hallrôd II fell to a pikeman in that battle, his son felt only pity for him, and intended to leave before meeting the same fate. It took a week to convince others to join his cause, only selecting those who seemed to be the bottom rung of everything, those that could be sick of it, and those who could fall prey to Sherkoz's golden tongue.
In the dead of night, Sherkoz and his deserters boarded the healthier Mûmak, a man called Katukaric, took the massive reins of the beast and pulled it off back though the woods, the remaining soldiers could not follow in time - it is believed they were all wiped put shortly after the deserters abandoned them with an injured Mûmak, as they were not heard from again. That was when They started calling him Rook, captain of the Mûmak deserters. Though he kept it going a long while, traveling on the back of an enormous beast from one corner of the continent to the other, eventually the army wanted revenge on those that betrayed them. And what is worse than one out of control Mûmak? Two well controlled Mûmakîl. They were walking across an open grassland. Forrest nearby. The heat and insects were unbearable, and the men were aggitated. It's at that moment the Eastern troops found them. They slaughtered the out of control Oilphaunt before Sherkoz's men could even retaliate. Many of them fell as well, literally fell from the tower. Those that remained alive and well until the Mûmak fell to it's knees spilt up frantically, half heading east to the forest, the other half heading west to a local village. Those that headed to the woods were chased down and slaughtered by the Mûmak, the ones that headed for the village too difficult to peruse, the Mûmakîl runners not fond of destroying friendly civilizations. The infantry tried to chase them down, eventually causing them to spilt up in all directions. Sherkoz knows not the fate of his followers, but he survived unscathed, to try another form of employment. Pirating.
