Like a black damask napkin lying over silver cutlery, the day was folded into night; till only the smallest gleam of silver penetrated the blackness like distant stars. The world shrank so fast; faster than anyone could have foreseen. Days now became hellish caricatures of previous ages when the febrile began to move around the land and take a lead in what they saw as heroic deeds that were yet nothing more than spiteful, ignorant acts. Young preyed on the old, the strong upon the weak while the enemy remained hidden from view.  All that was built and endured fell to ruin and as the fabric of life was rent asunder the laughter of the dark lord was plain to hear, to those with the wit to see his hand on all things.

Now we are a fading people living in fear of the day when we may be seen by the half trolls we once counted as kin. What blights may strike the world when its eyes turn from grace and seek to steady the injustice with pity? We will not make that same mistake again and in the night we emerge and over the span of the moon across the sky, steel is sharpened. The metal of our weapons is hard, but greater still is the alloy of our will. Through loss and ill acts was it forged and now the days are coming when we shall leave the night and reclaim the days.