An uruk SI into the LOTR Shadow of Mordor universe. Life is brutal, but that doesn't mean you have to be brutal too.
Torkal No-Sense (Shadow of Mordor/ Shadow of War Uruk-SI)
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Chapter 1; Would You Save Your Foe?: Part 1
LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
Pipeweed isn't tobacco. That wasn't something I knew until I came across some. I knew it grew outside of Mordor but I've never left the region myself, and then I found a weird looking weed growing stubbornly to the edge of a hidden volcanic spring on the plains of Gorgoroth and I had a nerdy looking uruk captain tell me what it was in exchange for a bottle of 'premium' grog. Turns out it was pipweed. Naturally grown and matured Mordor pipeweed.
I didn't smoke before. But the smog of Mordor is just like smoking so I didn't see the harm in giving it a shot for the first time and you know what? It was spicy. Pleasantly spicy, not 'torture designed as spice' spicy. I know it's supposed to be smoked in a pipe, so I carved my own from caragor bone and whenever I needed to sit down and have a 'big-think'n' moment somewhere private I find the pipe in my hand.
Right now I'm thinking about the orders I'm holding, given to me by an empty-eyed messenger. When I say 'empty-eyed' I mean that someone had removed both of his eyes. Not that he wasn't paying attention. He said they did that to him so he couldn't read the message he delivered me.
Talk about OPSEC...
It was a roll of parchment sent by the Black Hand. Orders of course, written in finely printed Black Speech. For my long history of service to the Dark Lord I was to be given the honor of leading the attack on the Black Gates. Apparently, it was finally time to end the reign of Gondorian men in Mordor.
I took a puff of my pipe. I knew I wasn't smoking it correctly but I couldn't care less.
I knew what was coming. A ritual, meant to draw forth the spirit of an elf lord from the distant past. A family would die, so that the wraith who lost his would be brought back into this world. But the elf wouldn't cooperate of course, and the captain of the Black Gate would find himself banished from death... At least that's what would've happened if I haven't been working to change the future since I was pulled from a vat kicking and screaming into a world that wasn't mine inside of a body that definitely wasn't mine.
Behind me I heard the sound of somebody trying to be sneaky, and failing miserably. I took another puff of my pipe, and the strong spicy smell of Mordor pipeweed filled the air.
"I know you're there tark. Just cause your old man is teaching you tah sneak around doesn't mean you're a ranger yet." I said, and didn't even bother turning around.
I was sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ash-filled plains that lay just beyond the Black Gate with the hill I climbed behind me. I heard slow and cautious footsteps behind me moving until the man I had wanted to meet slowly stepped into view on my left side, one hand on his sword even if it wasn't drawn yet. For two, almost three, years now I've been feeding info to the Gondorians via an overeager ranger-in-training. A ranger-in-training who's been desperate to prove himself and stupid enough to walk into Mordor and believe the words of an uruk who chose to spare him.
"I saw the message uruk. Black smoke. Tell me what is so urgent or so help me!"
I finally turned and gave Dirhael, son of Talion, an unimpressed look. Then I blew smoke from my pipe in his direction and watched him cough and try to wave the clinging smoke away. I waited for him to finish before I spoke again.
"You're gonna want to sit down for this one tark. Sure, I've told yah 'bout supply caches and ways tah free slaves, but this is a big one. You're gonna want tah be sittin' for it."
Dirhael obviously didn't want to sit down anywhere near me, but I refused to say anything more until he sat. We've done this plenty of times before and he knew how it went. I invited him to a secret meeting, he threatens me, I ignore the threats and tell him to sit down, eventually he sits, I tell him the info I have, and then he rushes off without saying 'thank you' to tell a ranger what he 'discovered' or to do something really stupid and act on the info himself. But this time is different. I wouldn't have him rush off until he understood just how much schrak he was in.
Eventually he sat a fair distance away from me with one hand still on his sword, and I had to resist the urge to chuckle at how well he was trained.
I held out the message I was given and he snatched it from my hand. He opens it up and scowls. "I can't read whatever this is uruk."
"How bout the signature at the bottom? Can you read that?"
I watch him look at the bottom of the parchment with a scrunched up look on his face. "No. I can't read that either."
"Well the very bottom is signed 'The Black Hand'. In case you're wondering, teh hand in question belongs tah Sauron."
When I say that I instantly have his attention. As far as he and the rest of the world know the Dark Lord is dead, and has been dead for a long time. I take a puff from my pipe. Then another. Then I take another.
"What do you mean?" Dirhael finally asks, his patience failing him.
"There are three Black Captains who run Mordor when teh Nazgul ain't flappin' around. Two Numenorians and a snake. The Hammer, The Tower, and The Black Hand in dat order. They all do different things... but The Black Hand is the only one who gives orders from the Dark Lord, and speaks with his voice. Literally. What you're holding there are orders... Before I tell yah what they are, let me ask you a question."
Dirhael grits his teeth. He hates talking to me, as if every word is agony for him. I don't understand why. It's way too much effort to hate someone like me who's done nothing but help him over the years for very little in return. I don't hate my worst enemy as much as he seems to hate me. "Fine. Ask your question."
"Well, it's two or three questions, but sure. First one. Would yah save someone's life even if they hate you after you do it? Like if it was a brother or friend or something?"
"Is this going anywhere?" He practically shouts.
"Answer the question tark. It's not even a hard one. A hard question would be how you would find the length of a side on a right triangle if yah knew the length of teh other two sides."
Dirhael makes a look like he's swallowed something bitter, which isn't new when he's around me. "If it was someone I cared about, I'd save them no matter what. Even if they hated me afterwards, though I can't imagine why they would."
"What if it's your foe? Would yah save an enemy? Save a foe's life."
Now he just looks confused. "What? No? Why would I do that?"
I shrug. "Guess that's the difference between you and me tark. Oh hey, look at this." I pick up a hefty rock I found earlier and placed beside me.
Now he looks really confused. He's giving me one of those looks that the other orcs and uruks give me when they finally decide that YES. I'm not as insane as the stories make me out to be. I'm worse. Much worse, and in all the best ways.
"What's that behind you!" I shout and point behind Dirhael, my pipe falling from my mouth dramatically. He turns to look and when he does the rock I was formerly holding flies in a perfect arc and hits the back of his head. He's knocked unconscious and I pick my pipe back up. Still lit. Nice.
Dirhael is tied up with some rope I brought with me, but not too tightly. When he wakes up it will be a while before he can wiggle free. Wriggle free? Words are hard.
I also pick up a sword and smash it against some rocks until it shatters into a bunch of pieces. What was once a nice sword forged by the blacksmith of the Black Gate is now just a length of steel and a hilt that forms a rather mean looking dagger. I leave an orc forged blade near Dirhael so he's not defenseless when he wakes up, and then I make my way down the hill.
I have a slaughter to command after all, and the Black Captains will be watching my every move closely. I know I'm not making the best decision I could right now, but I'm okay with that. Really, I am. What really matters is that where once two would die and the other banished from death, only one will die and another banished from death.
I saved a life today, and that has to count for something right? It matters.
It matters to me at least...
I didn't smoke before. But the smog of Mordor is just like smoking so I didn't see the harm in giving it a shot for the first time and you know what? It was spicy. Pleasantly spicy, not 'torture designed as spice' spicy. I know it's supposed to be smoked in a pipe, so I carved my own from caragor bone and whenever I needed to sit down and have a 'big-think'n' moment somewhere private I find the pipe in my hand.
Right now I'm thinking about the orders I'm holding, given to me by an empty-eyed messenger. When I say 'empty-eyed' I mean that someone had removed both of his eyes. Not that he wasn't paying attention. He said they did that to him so he couldn't read the message he delivered me.
Talk about OPSEC...
It was a roll of parchment sent by the Black Hand. Orders of course, written in finely printed Black Speech. For my long history of service to the Dark Lord I was to be given the honor of leading the attack on the Black Gates. Apparently, it was finally time to end the reign of Gondorian men in Mordor.
I took a puff of my pipe. I knew I wasn't smoking it correctly but I couldn't care less.
I knew what was coming. A ritual, meant to draw forth the spirit of an elf lord from the distant past. A family would die, so that the wraith who lost his would be brought back into this world. But the elf wouldn't cooperate of course, and the captain of the Black Gate would find himself banished from death... At least that's what would've happened if I haven't been working to change the future since I was pulled from a vat kicking and screaming into a world that wasn't mine inside of a body that definitely wasn't mine.
Behind me I heard the sound of somebody trying to be sneaky, and failing miserably. I took another puff of my pipe, and the strong spicy smell of Mordor pipeweed filled the air.
"I know you're there tark. Just cause your old man is teaching you tah sneak around doesn't mean you're a ranger yet." I said, and didn't even bother turning around.
I was sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ash-filled plains that lay just beyond the Black Gate with the hill I climbed behind me. I heard slow and cautious footsteps behind me moving until the man I had wanted to meet slowly stepped into view on my left side, one hand on his sword even if it wasn't drawn yet. For two, almost three, years now I've been feeding info to the Gondorians via an overeager ranger-in-training. A ranger-in-training who's been desperate to prove himself and stupid enough to walk into Mordor and believe the words of an uruk who chose to spare him.
"I saw the message uruk. Black smoke. Tell me what is so urgent or so help me!"
I finally turned and gave Dirhael, son of Talion, an unimpressed look. Then I blew smoke from my pipe in his direction and watched him cough and try to wave the clinging smoke away. I waited for him to finish before I spoke again.
"You're gonna want to sit down for this one tark. Sure, I've told yah 'bout supply caches and ways tah free slaves, but this is a big one. You're gonna want tah be sittin' for it."
Dirhael obviously didn't want to sit down anywhere near me, but I refused to say anything more until he sat. We've done this plenty of times before and he knew how it went. I invited him to a secret meeting, he threatens me, I ignore the threats and tell him to sit down, eventually he sits, I tell him the info I have, and then he rushes off without saying 'thank you' to tell a ranger what he 'discovered' or to do something really stupid and act on the info himself. But this time is different. I wouldn't have him rush off until he understood just how much schrak he was in.
Eventually he sat a fair distance away from me with one hand still on his sword, and I had to resist the urge to chuckle at how well he was trained.
I held out the message I was given and he snatched it from my hand. He opens it up and scowls. "I can't read whatever this is uruk."
"How bout the signature at the bottom? Can you read that?"
I watch him look at the bottom of the parchment with a scrunched up look on his face. "No. I can't read that either."
"Well the very bottom is signed 'The Black Hand'. In case you're wondering, teh hand in question belongs tah Sauron."
When I say that I instantly have his attention. As far as he and the rest of the world know the Dark Lord is dead, and has been dead for a long time. I take a puff from my pipe. Then another. Then I take another.
"What do you mean?" Dirhael finally asks, his patience failing him.
"There are three Black Captains who run Mordor when teh Nazgul ain't flappin' around. Two Numenorians and a snake. The Hammer, The Tower, and The Black Hand in dat order. They all do different things... but The Black Hand is the only one who gives orders from the Dark Lord, and speaks with his voice. Literally. What you're holding there are orders... Before I tell yah what they are, let me ask you a question."
Dirhael grits his teeth. He hates talking to me, as if every word is agony for him. I don't understand why. It's way too much effort to hate someone like me who's done nothing but help him over the years for very little in return. I don't hate my worst enemy as much as he seems to hate me. "Fine. Ask your question."
"Well, it's two or three questions, but sure. First one. Would yah save someone's life even if they hate you after you do it? Like if it was a brother or friend or something?"
"Is this going anywhere?" He practically shouts.
"Answer the question tark. It's not even a hard one. A hard question would be how you would find the length of a side on a right triangle if yah knew the length of teh other two sides."
Dirhael makes a look like he's swallowed something bitter, which isn't new when he's around me. "If it was someone I cared about, I'd save them no matter what. Even if they hated me afterwards, though I can't imagine why they would."
"What if it's your foe? Would yah save an enemy? Save a foe's life."
Now he just looks confused. "What? No? Why would I do that?"
I shrug. "Guess that's the difference between you and me tark. Oh hey, look at this." I pick up a hefty rock I found earlier and placed beside me.
Now he looks really confused. He's giving me one of those looks that the other orcs and uruks give me when they finally decide that YES. I'm not as insane as the stories make me out to be. I'm worse. Much worse, and in all the best ways.
"What's that behind you!" I shout and point behind Dirhael, my pipe falling from my mouth dramatically. He turns to look and when he does the rock I was formerly holding flies in a perfect arc and hits the back of his head. He's knocked unconscious and I pick my pipe back up. Still lit. Nice.
Dirhael is tied up with some rope I brought with me, but not too tightly. When he wakes up it will be a while before he can wiggle free. Wriggle free? Words are hard.
I also pick up a sword and smash it against some rocks until it shatters into a bunch of pieces. What was once a nice sword forged by the blacksmith of the Black Gate is now just a length of steel and a hilt that forms a rather mean looking dagger. I leave an orc forged blade near Dirhael so he's not defenseless when he wakes up, and then I make my way down the hill.
I have a slaughter to command after all, and the Black Captains will be watching my every move closely. I know I'm not making the best decision I could right now, but I'm okay with that. Really, I am. What really matters is that where once two would die and the other banished from death, only one will die and another banished from death.
I saved a life today, and that has to count for something right? It matters.
It matters to me at least...
Ooof Im liking it
verycoolname
Not actually cool
Wow. Okay, this definitely is poking that little nub in the back of my brain that makes me happy. I love Torkal already.
Maximum Power
The Unchosen One
- Location
- The Ormulum
I loved the Shadow of Mordor/War games. This is looking mighty interesting too, so consider this watched.
Chapter 1; Would You Save Your Foe?: Part 2
LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
I wasn't there for the ritual.
I could've been, but I chose not too. Ritual sacrifice has never sat well with me. Especially with the giant asshole that's Sour-Ron. To be honest though I probably should've been there. Just to show the Black Captains the flag and all that. Then again, they really couldn't care less about what their slaves think most of the time.
Yeah. You heard me right. Slave. Every single one of Morgoth's twisted creations, including myself, are all slaves to Sauron. We're nothing but tools for him to use and discard as needed so he can reforge Middle Earth however he pleases. Our lives don't matter to him, so why should our thoughts and feelings matter any more?
There's a reason Sauron is called the Lord of the Lash.
My plan to assault the Black Gate went off without a hitch by the way. Perfectly executed. We lost only five uruks because they were too stupid to follow orders and every inhabitant of the Black Gate, except one who's tied up on top of a cliff somewhere, died. My distractions were flawless, my archers precise, and my attack swift and brutal. Just like how I prefer. There's talk about me being promoted to Warchief for this.
Can't say I'm exactly unhappy about that, even if I factor in that all it took was a slaughter to get promoted. Warchiefs can get quite a lot done after all.
After the attack I had a quick and unpleasant talk with The Hammer who was happy with how everything went. He enjoyed how I gave him the broken sword of Dirhael and told me that the look of sorrow on Talions face when he told him that his son was slain was enjoyable. Apparently I should've been there. I took his word on how good it must've felt to be there. Afterwards I dismissed my men. I was alone at the Black Gate and there was work I had to do. It would still be a while until Dirhael managed to work his way here after all.
Maybe he'll try to kill me when he finds out what I did? I say 'try' of course because I'm quite tough to kill. In the meantime there was a long night of work ahead of me.
I don't know a lot about how Gondorians do funerals. I think they do the whole viking funeral thing where they burn a ship with a corpse in it, but I'm not sure. I hope they don't mind some makeshift shrakh I put together for them. The same kind of funeral I give to orcs and uruks who die under my command.
On the Gondorian side of the Black Gate I slowly but surely stacked thick cuts of wood until I have enough so every body gets their own funeral pyre. Except for Talion. He's still dead on top of the Black Gate with a note shoved in his hand on where to find me, and that his son is still alive.
Every dead man has a few things with them to take into the next life, if there is a next life for them. There was a next life for me and I started with nothing so I'm giving them all things I wished I had when I first started. Everyone gets a sword, so they aren't defenseless. Two coins, one over each eye, so they can pay for something they need on the other side. A piece of armor, for protection if they need it. Bread, salted meat, or cheese so they have something to tide them over. A little bit of grog, because being dead is an occasion to get sloshed if there ever was one. Finally, and most importantly, each body has a flower next to them so when they enter the next life they'll know that someone was thinking of them after they died.
Every Gondorian and the five uruks who died have their pyre set up and it took me all night to finish. I also have an empty pyre set up. Just in case Talion decides to kill me or I need an excuse for why Talion isn't on a pyre yet to give. Now I just gotta wait for sunrise. That's when Talion should wake up.
Obviously I start smoking. There's nothing better to do when waiting. Maybe play dice, but every uruk is a natural cheater so trying to have a fair game is a fool's errand.
As I smoke and watch the sun rise to the east I find out the difference between Dirhael and his dad. Dirhael is a noob and Talion is a pro. One moment I'm smoking my pipe and watching the sunrise, and the next my head is wrenched back and there's a familiar looking broken sword up against my throat.
Stupid! I should've been watching the Black Gate! I mean I still probably would've missed Talion, but still. It's the thought that matters!
"Speak uruk, before I lose my patience. Where is my son and how did you know I would be banished from death?"
I turn my eyes to look and who's holding me and sure enough there is Talion. Huh. "You don't look half bad for a dead man." I say, and instantly regret it.
Thankfully Talion just bodies me and throws me a good seven feet instead of stabbing me in the throat. I appreciate that. I gotta remember that Talion is the closest thing this world has to Batman. He's spooky.
I tuck and roll and by sheer luck my pipe is still in my mouth, and it's still lit! Nice! I take a puff and breath out.
"Easy! I'm not even armed! Also, I'll tell yah but yah gotta put the sword away. It's making me nervous!"
Talion does sheath the sword, but he and I both know that it means nothing. He's fast enough where the time needed to draw his weapon doesn't even factor in to him attacking me. It does make me feel better though.
Dammit. If I was me from before I was me I would have some sort of smart thing to say about charisma being a dump stat. Now that I'm here now though I can confirm that charisma is not a dump stat, because it would make speaking so much easier.
I could've been, but I chose not too. Ritual sacrifice has never sat well with me. Especially with the giant asshole that's Sour-Ron. To be honest though I probably should've been there. Just to show the Black Captains the flag and all that. Then again, they really couldn't care less about what their slaves think most of the time.
Yeah. You heard me right. Slave. Every single one of Morgoth's twisted creations, including myself, are all slaves to Sauron. We're nothing but tools for him to use and discard as needed so he can reforge Middle Earth however he pleases. Our lives don't matter to him, so why should our thoughts and feelings matter any more?
There's a reason Sauron is called the Lord of the Lash.
My plan to assault the Black Gate went off without a hitch by the way. Perfectly executed. We lost only five uruks because they were too stupid to follow orders and every inhabitant of the Black Gate, except one who's tied up on top of a cliff somewhere, died. My distractions were flawless, my archers precise, and my attack swift and brutal. Just like how I prefer. There's talk about me being promoted to Warchief for this.
Can't say I'm exactly unhappy about that, even if I factor in that all it took was a slaughter to get promoted. Warchiefs can get quite a lot done after all.
After the attack I had a quick and unpleasant talk with The Hammer who was happy with how everything went. He enjoyed how I gave him the broken sword of Dirhael and told me that the look of sorrow on Talions face when he told him that his son was slain was enjoyable. Apparently I should've been there. I took his word on how good it must've felt to be there. Afterwards I dismissed my men. I was alone at the Black Gate and there was work I had to do. It would still be a while until Dirhael managed to work his way here after all.
Maybe he'll try to kill me when he finds out what I did? I say 'try' of course because I'm quite tough to kill. In the meantime there was a long night of work ahead of me.
I don't know a lot about how Gondorians do funerals. I think they do the whole viking funeral thing where they burn a ship with a corpse in it, but I'm not sure. I hope they don't mind some makeshift shrakh I put together for them. The same kind of funeral I give to orcs and uruks who die under my command.
On the Gondorian side of the Black Gate I slowly but surely stacked thick cuts of wood until I have enough so every body gets their own funeral pyre. Except for Talion. He's still dead on top of the Black Gate with a note shoved in his hand on where to find me, and that his son is still alive.
Every dead man has a few things with them to take into the next life, if there is a next life for them. There was a next life for me and I started with nothing so I'm giving them all things I wished I had when I first started. Everyone gets a sword, so they aren't defenseless. Two coins, one over each eye, so they can pay for something they need on the other side. A piece of armor, for protection if they need it. Bread, salted meat, or cheese so they have something to tide them over. A little bit of grog, because being dead is an occasion to get sloshed if there ever was one. Finally, and most importantly, each body has a flower next to them so when they enter the next life they'll know that someone was thinking of them after they died.
Every Gondorian and the five uruks who died have their pyre set up and it took me all night to finish. I also have an empty pyre set up. Just in case Talion decides to kill me or I need an excuse for why Talion isn't on a pyre yet to give. Now I just gotta wait for sunrise. That's when Talion should wake up.
Obviously I start smoking. There's nothing better to do when waiting. Maybe play dice, but every uruk is a natural cheater so trying to have a fair game is a fool's errand.
As I smoke and watch the sun rise to the east I find out the difference between Dirhael and his dad. Dirhael is a noob and Talion is a pro. One moment I'm smoking my pipe and watching the sunrise, and the next my head is wrenched back and there's a familiar looking broken sword up against my throat.
Stupid! I should've been watching the Black Gate! I mean I still probably would've missed Talion, but still. It's the thought that matters!
"Speak uruk, before I lose my patience. Where is my son and how did you know I would be banished from death?"
I turn my eyes to look and who's holding me and sure enough there is Talion. Huh. "You don't look half bad for a dead man." I say, and instantly regret it.
Thankfully Talion just bodies me and throws me a good seven feet instead of stabbing me in the throat. I appreciate that. I gotta remember that Talion is the closest thing this world has to Batman. He's spooky.
I tuck and roll and by sheer luck my pipe is still in my mouth, and it's still lit! Nice! I take a puff and breath out.
"Easy! I'm not even armed! Also, I'll tell yah but yah gotta put the sword away. It's making me nervous!"
Talion does sheath the sword, but he and I both know that it means nothing. He's fast enough where the time needed to draw his weapon doesn't even factor in to him attacking me. It does make me feel better though.
Dammit. If I was me from before I was me I would have some sort of smart thing to say about charisma being a dump stat. Now that I'm here now though I can confirm that charisma is not a dump stat, because it would make speaking so much easier.
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- Location
- Oklahoma
Pfft, that was a fun chapter
LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
Would you guys be there for the ritual?
Depends on how much I want the undying Wraith Lord to hate me.
verycoolname
Not actually cool
Talion hasn't exactly had his powers long.
Nuh uh. No way. Talion might recognize me afterwards, and I bet at least one of the others would notice that I wasn't getting into the spirit of things.
- Location
- Perth
Gameplay Talon mind controls everyone to kill everyone.
Cutscene Talon is a chump who half the time gives everyone too much time to talk.
Not at all, I once stabbed a pig and almost fainted
verycoolname
Not actually cool
Can I say how much I loved Torkal's reasoning for why he added stuff to the pyres and what he added? Cause seriously, that was such a cool way to see more of his character. I want Talion to ask about it, just to see his reaction.
- Location
- Oklahoma
I'm in the same boat tbh, the fact of the matter is its really good idea of what the afterlife is, and its an interesting take
Vaalintine
Wild Wondorous Wolfalope
Yeah, that's definitely going to look bad ass when he gets introduced from a game perspective.
Also I can see why Torkal would be up for promotion. Gets the job done and slaughters the enemy without unnecessary fuss, isn't super ambitious to rise above his station. I wonder what sort of relationship he has with his underlings? Since he seems to try to keep them alive and thise that die get SOME respect I'd think there'd be at least some hesitancy to usurp him.
Edit: would be interesting if he ends up inspiring funeral rites of a sort as q thing for orcs. Or at least being done for people they respect, and not random blokes.
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LiamOfOrmonde
67% lewd. Oh my!
- Location
- Florida Sometimes
Have you ever played the Deponia series? It's a point an click game. Tons of fun, and my all time favorite story in media.
In that game there is a organization called the Organon, and they're all artificially created humans. They also all have one trait artificially instilled in them. One trait that makes them terrifying in-universe. They have no value for life, including their own.
Uruks kinda have the same problem. They do not value the life of others because none seem to value them. They're treated like they're unimportant and that their life doesn't matter, so in turn they treat others the same way. They kill without regret because they see others lives as just as unimportant as their own. Very few Uruks have anyone they can form any bonds with because of this endemic behavior. When uruks do meet someone who values them for who they are and not what they do they usually declare that person their blood brother.
With Torkal it's different. He values his life, his thoughts, and his future. He cares about himself, and he cares about his underlings as well. He thinks their lives have value, and doesn't just see them as another random warrior to fill in the ranks. He won't waste the lives of those under him because he believes that their lives are just as important as his.
Torkal's behavior, speech, and actions confuse other uruks. He does the hard things instead of going the easy route, he sets things up to make things better in Mordor not just for himself but for others, and he carries a kind of self-respect that is exceedingly rare in the land where the shadows lie. His actions over the years have earned him the title of No-Sense, and not only would his underlings die for him. His underlings want to live for him.