Pelennor

Limp, lifeless bodies cover the blood-soaked earth; armoured horses stamp in terror over their comrades on the ground, limbs trembling in uncontrollable frenzy.

Broken shields and weaponry, dipped in the red hue of a rising sun: scattered between the mutilated carcasses on the field. Hordes of insects crowd the open wounds, sucking and feeding on sticky fluid and exposed flesh, undisturbed by soft groans of the dying.

Blood mingles with sweat, cries of fear with shouts of triumph.

And a dreadful silence sweeps over the battlefield, carrying the stench of old evil as the shadow descends on his prey.