How we think the fight will go

The plains of Gorgoroth smoldered below the Witch King of Angmar as he flew high above on the wings of a dreaded flying beast. It's serpentine neck craned this way and that, searching for enemies of Mordor both on land and in the sky. The black-robed rider wore a lofty, spiked helm, rusted and worn--surely from use in a great many battles. Off in the distance, the tower of Barad-dür loomed, with the ever present eye scanning the fields around it, ever watchful. Strange, it was, that the "All-Seeing Eye" didn't spot the six black figures coming in from above the Witch King. Like Sauron of old and his faithful servants, these creature's were black as midnight, with shining, chitinous armor and large indiscernible wings. They looked, one might think, like huge black mantises, though where the lowly mantis has compound eyes, these creatures showed stalk-like antennae jutting out from their shells. These twitched nervously, scanning the night sky for imperceptible trails of thought that wafted up towards what few stars could be seen. The pack of Slake Moths made short work of the Nazgül and his mount, ripping the poor beast's wings off and watching the figures plummet toward earth. With a scream that sounded reminiscent of a whale being tortured on a rusty bicycle, the figure disappeared into the abyss below. Immediately the Great Eye snapped to attention, driving a dirty, yellow beam of light toward the pack of insect-things. With more screams and wails, eight other flying beasts took to the air from various positions on Barad-dür, making a formation that pointed directly at the swarming Slake Moths. Battle was joined with the great CRASH of Morgul blades clanging harmlessly off the monsters' shells and the horrible, high-pitched screams of both Slake Moth and flying beast. Soon, archers on the tower began to take aim at the creatures outlined by the light from the Great Eye. Pieces of improbable wing and newly-hewn limbs began to rain down upon the orcs stationed below. "Good," thought Sauron to his disembodied self, "some Elvish plot that proved to be ineffective." How he hated those elves, and that wizard, Gandalf. These foul monsters reeked of wizardry. But, as usual, Sauron did not see the whole picture, as one Slake Moth, a runt by the standards of the species, had drifted behind Barad-Dür unnoticed, and was now beating its wings and rising into the night--right towards the Great Eye! As it reached the spire closest to the ocular cloud of hatred and evil, it unfurled its massive black wings and began its hypnotic process. Colors swirled. Shapes moved. Notions and feelings amassed and faded like the tide breaking on a simultaneously jagged and perfect shore. The Eye spun around. He was...transfixed! What little consciousness he had began to slip away as Sauron felt extraordinary power pulling his very mind from the Void. A snake-like proboscis emerged from the Slake Moth's face, reaching towards the Great Eye the way a jewel thief would reach for a precious stone. Small bolts of yellow and red lightning lashed out from the Eye, tantalizing the Slake Moth more and more with each passing second. Finally the proboscis entered the Void. The Slake Moth shrieked with pleasure as its tendrils dug deeper and deeper into the Dark Lord's psyche. The creature had never experienced a mind so purely...EVIL before! With huge gulps the Slake Moth began to drink up Sauron's consciousness. More. More! It had to have more! So potent was this concoction of evil that the Slake Moth began to get drunk with it. Somewhere along the line, it went ill. Suddenly, the Slake Moth felt its own mind being drawn towards the void! It's wings fell, and stopped their patterns, and its many limbs and tentacles began to droop. But that proboscis remained attached to the Great Eye. The Slake Moth began to feel laughter, a rolling, hollow sound, like boulders being thrown down a mountainside. The Dark Lord's evil had overcome the Slake Moth's facilities! With a flash of yellow light, the Slake Moth's head exploded, spewing blackness and slime everywhere. The other Slake Moths screeched and clutched their own heads as their compatriot and brood-mate died, giving the archers and remaining Zazgül time enough to land critical blows and slay these monsters where they flew. "Fools," thought Sauron, "it will take more power than that to faze the Dark Lord of Middle Earth."

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Predicted Winner: Sauron