A swift black shadow swept across the star-studded night sky above heavily guarded Pelargir.
As it passed, it let out a piercing shriek that forced the soldiers guarding the walls to cover their ears.
It was a hideous Fell Beast, with a black figure wearing a steel crown seated upon its back.
The figure had long, ragged hair that gleamed gray-white in the moonlight. Beneath his crown there was no face, only a pair of deadly eyes, their evil gaze chilling anyone who saw them in the darkness.
He came laden with fear and despair, his black robes concealing armor steeped in evil power.
This was the Witch-king of Angmar, riding his Fell Beast.
Now he watched the fierce battle below with cruel delight.
On the ground, an endless army of Half-orcs had completely surrounded the human encampment near Pelargir.
Countless Half-orcs trampled the camp's wooden southern gate beneath their feet. Several companies of human warriors in gleaming armor fought desperately at the entrance against the emboldened attackers, holding them back from the camp.
Behind the human warriors stood an old man with white hair and a white beard, his stern face bearing a dignity far beyond that of ordinary men.
Despite his advanced age, he still wore a full suit of silver-white plate armor, with a blue-and-white surcoat over his chest and a scarlet cloak streaming in the wind behind him.
This was Angalimir, the twentieth Prince of Dol Amroth.
Faced with the surprise attack, the prince rode a tall, pure-white warhorse, personally carrying the great banner of the House of Dol Amroth as he rode throughout the camp. He called out loudly, urging the human warriors gripped by terror to return to the battle.
His voice rang with courage and encouragement. In his hand, the banner depicting a