The Death of King Náin
It is coming. We hide, but it is coming. Orcs hiss, for they too fear its wrath. Nameless terror lurks in shadow beyond the door. It is the only door. There is no escape. We grip our axes. We slay the one who screams. Blood flows in the tomb. We are the last. Our bones will lie here.
We are starving. We are weary. Our fathers are slain. Our sons are fled. Our treasures are lost. None will now remember. The shadow draws nearer. From the depths of darkness drums are beating.
The doom is here.
The door is opening.