Dol Guldur... a place to reunite.
I was defeated many years ago by a man of the name Isildur of Gondor; a thief that stole what was rightfully mine, my soul and the Ring of Power. I could not return to my former state; I was banished from the world into darkness for many years before my soul ventured north to a forest by the name of Mirkwood... a place to reunite my loyal followers. Here, I formed the greatest fortress of Middle Earth, Dol Guldur. My followers, the nine kings that were once Men, shall come to my side once more... to destroy all of Middle Earth.
The Witch-king of Angmar, like all nine Men, had been deeply loyal to me; he had done my deeds during the Second Age. Eight other Men held onto their individual rings of power, of those which I crafted myself and bestowed upon them. They all sought through their ambitions and in the end, they joined into one of my most trusted and faithful alliances. As I continued to be their leader and the rings continued to give such strength to each, the nine Men became wraiths; the nine undead Nazgul completely under my divine authority, cursed to serve me for all of time. He, the Witch-king of Angmar, became the leader... Lord of the Nazgul and my most trusted warrior. I honored him... I honored him till my utter defeat in the year 3441 of the Second Age.
With my... disappearance, if you will, the nine Nazgul disappeared from Middle Earth entirely. Never to be seen... not for a thousand years...
As I returned from the dark and dreary shadows whence I fell, I yearned to call upon my old alliance and return to Mordor with the will to destroy those who tore me apart. I became known to many Elves and Men as the... Necromancer, a harmful presence as a reminder of the rivalry between Mordor and the Last Alliance of Elves and Men; a painful memory which I try so hard to rid myself of.
Two hundred years after my appearance at the start of Dol Guldur in the Third Age of Middle Earth, the Lord of the Nazgul appeared at my side... just as he did before my downfall. He traveled towards a lost city where he soon formed the kingdom of Angmar on the foundation of the dead realm of Arnor. Despite his efforts to branch out more followers under our command, horrid conflict rose between his kingdom and Dúnedain, a race of Men who came to Eriador led by Elendil whose son wrongly defeated me in the Second Age. From their conflict, a ghastly but righteous name was given to my dear commander; the Witch-king, Lord of Angmar. I, myself at that moment, did not fancy the name, but as time went on, all-knowing beings of Middle Earth came to fear this undead creature... the Lord of the Nazgul.
But when Dol Guldur fell, I stayed hidden from the world until I knew for sure that my kingdom, the one my puppets were handling, was safe and within my grasp. Unfortunately and very disappointingly, the Witch-king failed to conquer the kingdoms of Men and Elves, leaving Angmar to fall leaderless as he returned to Mordor within the years. I, the Necromancer, will stay here waiting for the nine Nazgul to rebuild my power and set me free.
Free to take back what was rightfully mine; Middle Earth...
And the Ring of Power, that of which I most desperately need. That of which I will kill to find...
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