"Please, don't hurt me!" the voice cried out to the tangible darkness surrounding it. A low chuckle sounded out of the shadows and a caped figure strode out into the dim light of the underground cavern. The figure stood at six feet tall, the only facial features that could be seen was his thin, pale lips curving up into a cruel smile. He wore a hooded cape that surrounded his face in shadow and the flowed down to the floor of the cavern.
"Oh, don't worry, I won't hurt you... for now," the man said and laughed. The man on the floor quivered in fear as the man stepped closer.
"W- who are you? And what do you want from me?" the man asked, stumbling over his words. The caped man's smile grew.
"Oh, you can call me Shadowkiller, Blade Shadowkiller," the man said and laughed again. His voice was low and raspy and felt so dark that it sent shivers up even the bravest warrior's spine.
"I want only one thing from you, I want you to help me perform a ritual," Blade told the man.
"What ritual?" the man asked Blade.
"The Ghostly Working of Blades," he told the man.
"W- why do you need me though? It sounds easy enough," the man said, attempting to talk his way into freedom.
"Oh no, it's quite difficult. You see, I need an extra arm. Literally," Blade said and, in one fluid movement, unsheathed a crude looking knife, grabbed the man's left arm and sliced through the flesh at the elbow. The man screamed in agony as blood spewed in all directions, covering Blade's black cape in red. An angry snarl appeared on his face.
"How dare you!" he shouted and threw him to the ground, flicking his wrist and lodging the knife in the man's chest. The man screamed on last time before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell back, lifeless. Blade, still holding the arm, strode purposely over to a pool of black water not even twenty feet away. He dropped the arm into the water, spoke a few words in a language that only Blade knew, and placed his palm on the surface of the pool. The waters began to bubble and swirl, turning red and orange as they did. Blade stood back and watched as twenty knives rose from the pool, glowing with Ghostfire. Blade smiled.
"Go forth into the city and bring me back twenty healthy citizens that can be my slaves," he told the knives. With what looked like a bow, they flew off out a opening in the cavern roof.
"You know something, Finn? I think today is going to be the day we actually get to fight a villain," The voice belonged to twenty year old Bolivar, who just twenty days ago, had become a knight with his good friend Finn. Both had dark brown hair and hazel eyes and were often mistaken for twins or brothers.
"Maybe you're right, Bolivar, but I doubt it," Finn replied. Not twenty seconds later, a scream echoed in the village outside. Bolivar smiled.
"Told you so," he said and, grabbing his sword and shield, ran out the door. Finn followed behind him, stopping almost immediately outside the door. Flying around them were knives, seeming to be on fire, that were chasing the citizens. Bolivar turned to Finn.
"Let's go save some people," he said with a smile and ran off. With a sigh, Finn followed after. They ran into the mist of the crowd, trying to find the man responsible. The knives seemed to know exactly what they were doing because they were herding twenty people to the opening of a cave. The people, thinking they would be safe, ran into the cave, following the path into tits depths, the knives following close behind. Finn sighed.
"Let's follow them and see where they're going," he told Bolivar and that's what they did. The path twisted and turned but finally reached a bottom. They peered around the corner and gasped. Before them stood a massive cavern, filled with people in chains and behind the citizens they had just followed in was a figure in a black cape, stained with dark red blood, a hood covering the upper three quarters of his face. Bolivar turned to Finn.
"Let's get him," he said and ran out into the open. Finn yelled after him but it was too late. The figure had already seen Bolivar and now held out a hand towards him. Black fire erupted from his palm, slamming square into bolivar's chest, knocking him into a wall.
"Bolivar!`Finn screamed and ran to aid his friend. Realizing his mistake, he turned, but not fast enough. Black tendrils reached him, slamming him down on the floor. Slowly, they crawled up his chest and into his nostrils, mouth and ears. Finn writhed in pain and discomfort as the squeezed the inside of his head and tore his head apart from the inside. He lay unmoving on the ground, blood beginning to pool under his head. Bolivar awoke, saw Finn and began to sob uncontrollably. He turned to the figure and rage filled his vision. Bolivar got up, unsheathed his sword and charged the man. The man just chuckled and threw a ball of flame at him. He dodged it, but the next one was already on its way and slammed into his head, setting his clothes alight. He screamed as he tried to put out the fire but to avail. The flames continued to burn until Bolivar was nothing more than a smoldering pile of bones and ash. Blade smiled.
``Heroes never learn," he said to himself and turned his attention back to his slaves. The earth from that point on was known as Shadowblade and was under the command of Blade. Evil doesn't always fail, this time, it prevailed.
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