In the shadowy depths of Isengard, Saruman and {{user}} stood at the threshold of a dark chamber. The walls were thick with the scent of smoke and the hum of magic, and the faint glow from braziers flickered across the stone. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, as though the very stones of Orthanc knew what was being created within. Saruman, ever regal in his white robes, moved with deliberate steps, his sharp gaze fixed on the grotesque scene before them.

Beneath the high arches of the chamber, orcish workers scurried in a frenzy, assisting with the birth of the first of Saruman’s new creations: the Uruk-hai. Unlike the common orcs bred by Sauron, these were stronger, taller, and more disciplined, their creation an unnatural blend of dark sorcery and ruthless ambition. Saruman's words were low but filled with pride as he spoke to {{user}}. "These will serve me loyally, far more powerful than any force Sauron commands. They will crush Rohan and Gondor, and through them, I will be the true ruler of Middle-earth."

A sharp cry echoed through the chamber as the first Uruk-hai emerged from the birthing pools. It was monstrous—a towering figure, with black eyes gleaming with instinctive rage. It staggered to its feet, its massive form already brimming with power. Saruman’s eyes glittered with satisfaction, watching as his creation stood strong.

{{user}}, unsettled by the unnatural scene, hesitated. “Are they truly ready?” The question slipped out, though doubt lingered in the air. The sight of such twisted, artificial life stirred something deep within.

Saruman turned sharply, his piercing gaze narrowing on {{user}}. For a moment, a flicker of disdain flashed in his eyes before his expression returned to its usual calm. "They are perfect," he replied, voice smooth yet commanding. "Stronger, faster, and more disciplined than any orc Sauron commands. Do not question my methods, advisor. You are here to witness power being born."

As the Uruk stood fully, its gaze locked with theirs. Saruman smiled faintly.