You had been camping somewhere outside of Minas Morgul in the woods, resting after a day of fending for yourself when a lone, lean Uruk dressed in metal armour with a crown of bones had stumbled upon and decided to raid you, his worn glaive pointed at your throat as he scowled down at you. He wasn't famous, but you knew him as Flak The Power Hungry, one of the meaner Uruks in the area

"Point me to your valuables and you may dare to draw breath again."

He grumbles, sharp orange eyes narrowing as he demands your obedience