The story of Karadiyar is preserved in the libraries of Tien and Sinraen. The miracles, wars, heroics, and follies of past ages are written on these pages alone.
The Black March Across the Darah Plains
The following text was translated from a burned leather scroll found in the old library of Tien Keep. Most of the text was written in the orc tongue, while some lines were later scratched out with a dark substance resembling blood. Although it is not known exactly who wrote it, Sinraen historians believe the text was kept by an orc scribe or war priest. In particular, the expressions used about Annamor, the Lord of Darkness, distinguish the text from other war records.
When we first smelled iron, Darah was still silent. The wind passed through the tall grasses, and black birds circled above the plain. But when we saw the banners rising on the northern horizon, we understood that the great war had finally come.
The humans were coming. The mountain rats were with them. They advanced like walls of iron. Their numbers were fewer than our packs, but they were not afraid. Because two kings walked before them.
One was the human king Amroth. His long armor worked with silver shone whenever the sun struck it. Even his horse looked like a black beast bred for war. The other was Thulgar, the old wolf of the mountains. With his heavy armor chained in gold and his great war hammer, even the dwarves beside him seemed wary of him as he walked.
Their armies advanced across Darah. Their drums made the stones of the plain tremble, and the dwarf horns could be heard from miles away. That day many orcs said we should retreat. For it was rare to see humans and dwarves marching together. But Urzogh only laughed.
Urzogh... The executioner in red armor. His helmet made of bone is still before my eyes. Even before the battle began, he was impatient to stain his axe with blood. Beside him stood Uztien, the great chief of the northern caves. The huge warriors who wore black wolf pelts were under his command. And there was the goblin commander Znabi... That hunched creature was small, but his mind was darker than many orc chieftains. He hid his archers in the marshes and among the dry grasses so skillfully that when the attack began, the humans could not understand where they were being struck from.
The first clash began toward noon. Goblin arrows darkened the sky. I can still hear the sound of hundreds of arrows striking human shields. Then the orc pack led by Urzogh attacked. They tore apart the first human line that stood before them. Some dwarves had to drive their axes into the earth so they would not fall to their knees.
But the enemy did not break easily. Amroth himself fought on the front line. I saw him kill two orc chieftains from atop his horse. Thulgar, with his war hammer, crushed an orc warrior's chest together with its armor. The dwarves stood around him like stone. No matter how we attacked, they did not retreat.
Then... the sky changed.
Black clouds collapsed over the sun. The wind suddenly fell silent. The drums stopped. Even the screams of the wounded weakened. It was as if an unseen hand had closed over the plain.
That was when the master came.
When I first saw Annamor, I did not believe he was a living being. Shadows moved beneath his horse. He swallowed light like the night itself. We could not make out his face clearly, for where we looked it seemed as though smoke stirred.
But the most terrifying thing was not his appearance. It was his presence.
When he stepped onto that plain, the courage of the humans broke. Some dropped their swords. Some fell to their knees. Horses reared and threw their riders to the ground. Even the dwarves drew back and tightened their ranks. For wherever Annamor's gaze touched, the fire of battle inside a person went out.
Amroth did not retreat. The king raised his sword and tried to gather his soldiers. Thulgar too lifted his war hammer into the air and drove the dwarves forward again. The fact that both kings remained standing despite the fear kept their armies from collapsing entirely. Yet no battle cry could drown out the darkness spread by Annamor.
Then the master raised his sword.
At that moment the orcs attacked again. Urzogh cut down everything before him. Uztien's warriors tore into the sides of the dwarf line. Znabi's goblins rained arrows upon the retreating humans. Darah's grasses were soon soaked in blood.
At last Amroth gave the order to retreat. He did this not from fear, but to prevent his army from being destroyed. Thulgar did not leave the battlefield until the last moment. It is said that the final dwarf unit to retreat was gathered around him. It is even told that the old king killed a fleeing orc warrior with his hammer while withdrawing.
But the truth did not change. That day the Plains of Darah belonged to Annamor.
After the battle ended, silence lay over the plain for a long time. No sound was heard except the groans of the wounded. The master stood motionless on his horse, as if watching all the dead. No orc dared approach him. For even we feared Annamor.
Now years have passed. I have seen many wars. Many kings have died. But nowhere have I ever felt again the fear I felt at Darah. For that day we all understood this: Annamor was not merely a warlord. He was the walking will of darkness.