Two human armies, great in number but not much else, finally met each other in an old ruined city. Battles previous were more like mere skirmishes, leaders of both armies too afraid to commit to a large confrontation. But not so in the dead city. There, in those ancient ruins, the two hosts met. Not one of them could say for sure who had built the old city, or when, or why. But it made the perfect place for them to meet.
Being cowards by nature, neither wanted to have war touch their own precious home soils, so they met in this neutral place. Little did they know that there were those who knew of the ruin's turbulent past, and were even now watching them. This was not the first time war had come here. Before humans blighted the planet's surface with their stench, a much older civilisation prospered there. No one knows much about them, or what happened to them and their city. Unless of course you take into account those who destroyed them.
The cities previous occupants called themselves Lycopiads, and their city was named Miranda. So what did they look like you may ask? What cultural achievements did they accomplish? What did they contribute to the grander scheme of the cosmos? Who cares. They're dead and dust, a bloody stain upon the face of time. We made them so.
Now these humans are here, and we watch and wait. We see a new opportunity for a great raid to commence. We watch them from secret places, from the old gates that lead to that world that we left behind, hidden. Let the fools bleed themselves dry in their petty civil war. We will delight in the carnage and misery they will cause. Than, when the time is right, we will swoop upon them like a murder of crows to finish them both, leaving their respective homelands open to us.
And who are we? That is the most important question of all! We are many things. We are ancient, so much so we have witnessed young stars grow old and dim. We are terror, for that is the greatest weapon of all. We are darkness, for we devour the light of hope that may be kindled in the hearts of our quarry. We are speed, for we always strike first. And most importantly, we are death, for death comes to all things but death itself.