Talion adjusted his grip on Urfael. Below, the fortress of hummed with the movement of an orc legion. At its center stood Suladan , a towering figure draped in tattered black robes, his presence a void that seemed to swallow the torchlight.
"The fortress is ours," Talion said, his voice weary but firm. Middle.Earth.Shadow.of.War.part10.rar
The attack was a blur of steel and shadow. Talion leaped from the cliffs, a ghost in the darkness. He moved with a speed no mortal could match, his blade finding the gaps in heavy Uruk armor. But Suladan was prepared. With a wave of his hand, the Nazgûl unleashed a wave of necro-fire that threw Talion backward. Talion adjusted his grip on Urfael
The air in the pass was thick with the stench of grog and charred orc-flesh. Talion stood on a jagged outcrop, his breath misting in the cold Mordor night. Beside him, the spectral form of Celebrimbor flickered like a dying blue flame. "The fortress is ours," Talion said, his voice
"You fight for a dead kingdom, Ranger," Suladan hissed, the sound like dry leaves skittering over stone.
The blue light of the wraith-world erupted. The orcs nearby recoiled, blinded by the brilliance. For a moment, the two spirits—man and wraith—struggled for control over the fallen king's mind. The history of Suladan’s fall flashed before Talion: the golden halls, the gift of the ring, and the slow, agonizing corruption.