Deep within the heart of Mount Doom, where the heat of the flame saturates the air, thick like the very magma it erupts from, lies the Dark Lord's forge: Sammath Naur. Here, within the Cracks of Doom, Sauron wove his dark magic to craft a weapon from the very fires of the earth itself—a weapon meant to dominate all of Middle-earth.
Within the derelict mines of Moria, the desperate passage of a fledgling fellowship, along with the incessant cries from a hoard of blood-thirsty orcs, rouse an ancient beast from its age long slumber. Stalking within the shadows of the long-abandoned halls, the foul creature seeks to annihilate this band of trespassers. With flames and fury, none shall escape its wrath.
A winged thing – not of feather or quill, but naked and leathery. Armed with tooth and claw, its screeching cry, piercing and unnatural, invokes a primal fear in all who hear its call. A foul steed, it serves its rider to scour the skies and plague the lands.