It was because of this, the Dark Lord Sauron chose to build his immense army. It was the largest in the world, ten times larger than Nightmare's, full of orcs, men, and uriks. And to add to the overwhelming force, they had cave trolls, powerful ape like creatures that stood ten feet tall and possessed incredible strength.
Sauron also had the Nine to command. Among them, his most powerful servent, the Black Captain of Mordor, the Witchking himself. No man could kill him, his power garnered of true darkness, pure blackness, the essence of the universe. They rode the fell beasts, monsters from the past, they had come from the age of giants, back when monsterous creatures roamed the earth, animals that could make the very earth crack.
Sauron, too, came from the past, he was older than even Zasalamel and Gandalf, he had the power of a god. But he to had been vanquished, only able to exist on our plain as a spirit, but soon he would be made whole, soon he would set foot on the ground.
Riding down a path leading to the ancient Tower of Barad-dûr, the Mouth of Sauron, a tall, and insidiously evil man, held the thing that would change the Earth forever. Around him, rode eight of the Nine Nazgul, above, riding the strongest of the fell beasts, the Witchking, they knew they must stop at nothing to return the Ring to its rightful place, on the finger of Sauron.
Watching them was the Eye, Sauron's only physical manifestation in this world, it stared down with its fiery gaze lighting the ground before them with an ominous glow of orange. The time had come for the Darkness to take the Earth as its throne, total domination of all that inhabited it, good and evil alike, the last remnant of the old super powers was about to rule once more.