Pressing further into the wretched society that the Witch King had built around his orcs, trolls, and other abominations, we encountered much more resistance. Slaves toiled away at vile industry, mining and pumping digusting toxins into the river, turning it bright green and ominous. Simply setting foot in in the poisoned waters would bring an adventurer irrevocably to their knees in disgust and despair.
Yet this vile spew marked our path. We had to infiltrate the city's sewers. But, while such an environment was hopelessly caustic to most decent living things, horrible creatures actually thrived there, like giant slugs!
We pushed through the creeping slimy filth and into the basement of one of the lesser keeps of Carn Dum. We would have to defeat the petty warlord that abode there, and the smattering of servants alotted him that tried feebly to hinder our righteous advance on the capitol of Angmar.
Their resistance was trivial, as exemplified by the poor wretched Pale-folk.
We emerged from the first keep into the streets of Carn Dum proper. There were many crooked roads leading into dark neighborhoods. It was a decidedly urban area that was paradoxically the lead habitably place we'd ever seen. The horror of imagining everyday life here for the Angmarim chilled my soul. No wonder the Enemy had to use the ever present thread of terror, pain, and dread to keep it's society and war-machine rolling.
The scene before us, a Cargul surrounded by supplicating Angmarim priests in the town square must be a regular occurance.
Seeing the Cargul reminded me of poor Amdir... who fell and succumbed to the terrible enslavement of the Nazgul what seemed so long ago. Had we really released his soul? Or did HE prowl these dark streets too, master to even more wretched barely living things?
We knew our struggle to liberate this land had hardly begun.