Their spirit is sharp and cold as the light of the full moon, and they are as quick and merciless as the icy nightwind. War is their art, battle their poetry. They live to sow destruction and neither hope nor joy is necessary to give them courage. Perfect tools of death, they show no weakness, despair or fatigue. Their entire days and nights are spent worshipping and praying to Nor, their master, and destroying the light-seeking worms whose gods forced him into exile.
It is their sharp intellect and discipline that makes the Dark Elves so dangerous and that almost decided the War of Six Races for the dark ones. From Urgath they came to Fiara with their brothers in arms, the orcs and trolls. Once the war was over, they stayed and founded the realm of Lar on the nebulous east coast. There, they raised towers of obsidian and forged heavy armor and moonblades, which they would use in uncounted cruel battles against the races of the light.