Smoke accompanied the warrior that wore the strangest mail armor of the Dark Knights. He had set fire to buildings and slew villagers and their defenders with his polearm, which he called Lightning's Edge. The weapon looked like a short spear, but the blade was elongated to a short sword length and curved, with the blade shaped like a cruel lighting bolt. The pole part was made of black metal with runes for steel, with the blade pure steel with marks of arcane lightning, with a silver sheen to it, stained by dried and still flowing blood. The warrior's purple and blue cloth was stained by crimson red as he turned to a new defender. He was desperate to defend his fellow villagers. Dark Knights, led by him, could see him. Drak'thar moved forward, the blade slid towards the crude spear that the defender wore. The polearm its self knocked the spear aside as he moved in and elbowed the villager to the ground. A foot slammed onto his ribcage and broke bones. The man spit up blood as the polearm sliced his head clean off.<br/><br/>His hair was hidden by his high helm. The dark iron and steel looked black in the smoke, with golden lightning along the edge. He pulled it off and shook his head. Black hair, which reached the bottom of his neck, glistened with sweat. His emerald eyes narrowed down at the fresh kill. He knew it was wrong, and his iron will that had once been hard to defeat was back. The male slid the blade into the ground, just enough so that it would stay in. Drak'thar drew out his longsword, which was thicker than most, and had runes for fire along the blade. He raised the blade up and then forward as he roared in a thick voice, from the smoke most would assume, "Charge forward and finish these cretins." He placed the helm back on as Dark Knights surged forward with a great many different weapons in their hands.<br/><br/>His sensed snapped him to the side. A hut that was creeking with the fire, roared with the blaze. A young woman peered out and squeaked when she saw him, and retreated back into the building. The Dark Knight gripped his weapon and drew it from the dirt. He cleaned it on the corpse's cloths before he walked forward over the blood-soaked ground. His armor made intimidating sounds at he walked towards the door.<em>Clank</em>,<em>clank</em>,<em>clank</em>...the metal rings roared out for blood that he would not spill. The yong woman was against the wall as she roared, "Better to die in this hut, than by your cursed blade. You beast, you've fallen too low..."<br/><br/>Drak'thar paused at her words, they stung. But they were the truth, he supposed. The man didn't shy away from her, but moved forward swiftly. He grabbed her with his blade now in his sheath. He grabbed her and moved out of the building as it toppled over, and roared with more fire. The blaze gleamed on his mail and plate armor as he stood up and set her on her feet. He turned to face her as she backed up, "Leave, quickly. Avoid all other knights, least you want to actually go through with your threat of fiery suicide." He then turned as he followed after the troops. He was known to search for victims to slay them. His emerald eyes narrowed ahead of him as he thought of what to do.<br/><br/>The village's inferno made it hard enough to see and breath below, but up top was worse. It was known that Drak'thar was a person to stay in the blaze longer than was needed. He shook his head as he looked ahead and saw the slaughter. Powers and arcane magics flew through the air and tore apart villagers. Drak'thar pulled out  his sword and placed the Lightning's Edge on his black sling as he rushed forward and slew with the other Knights for now. He had no choice, but to the mindless killing machines, they wouldn't see the mercy he showed his victims, the way he killed them quickly and without tearing them to pieces, despite what his strong body was capable of doing without the magic that he was imbued with.