Despicable Characters and Some Sort of Betrayal

The title has mostly nothing to do with the post.  Except that it has to do with the excerpt I am going to give you...*turns red*  Oops, I wasn't supposed to tell ye that yet, was I?  Ah, well, the cat's out of the bag *meow* *RWEW!* *tackles cat to the ground and stuffs it into a bag*

Now, where was I?  Ah, yes.  Betrayal and despicable characters.  Both can be summed up in this oneword: Dreadman.  Or, rather, the Dreadman. 

Now, as for an excerpt...aye, I can see that light in yer eyes.  Tis about the Dreadman--I wrote it just last night. :)  Well, tis SORT of about the Dreadman.  At any rate, here it is!

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Kyrsain was the captain of a dying city guard.


All around him, black-cloaked invaders struck strategically in places of the guard. Men fell without a sound, a wordless cry on their lips.

A man near Kyrsain gurgled and fell, and as the bloodied sword slipped out of him and whirled smoothly toward Kyrsain, he tried his best to defend himself. He struck, defended, parried, and attacked, but the man blocked every strike. Kyrsain could just see the moonlight glint on the man's eyes within the black cloak, and a smile seemed to grace the shadowed lips--or was it his imagination?

Kyrsain slipped on the stones and fell backwards. The man lunged towards him, but Kyrsain struck upward with his sword, and he felt it hit flesh. A cry came from the cloaked man, and he fell.

Kyrsain stumbled upward and glanced around the carnage.

Everywhere, men cried and struggled against cloaked men with thin swords of silvers steel. His men, Kyrsain knew. They were dying, being cut down by the hungry swords of the cloaked men.

"Trnshah!" Kyrsain shouted. The friend and warrior below, Trnshah, killed his opponent with a quick thrust, and turned back toward Kyrsain. He shouted something intelligible back, and Kyrsain yelled, "Gather the men and retreat into the city! Hurry, we must protect the palace! PULL BACK!"

The burly warrior nodded, and began relaying the cry.

The men disengaged from the tangled battle as best they could, and those that survived the furious attack pulled back into the city.

At first, Kyrsain thought they had temporarily escaped, that they would make it to the palace. But then he spotted a cloaked shadow in front of them, and the men, tearing down the streets of Tterin, stopped involuntarily.

A figure, taller than the rest, stepped out, his cloak of black blowing back behind him. "How...good of you to join us," he said, his voice a low hissing.

A bolt of fear slammed through Kyrsain, and he pushed it back. Yet he could not help but tremble inside at the inexplicable evil aurora of the man.

Quietly, more figures, shadowed by the moonlight, their faces black from their hoods, stepped beside the man. Closer they came, until the remnant of the guard were surrounded.

And then they struck.

The cloaked men moved forward, quick as lightning, and struck again and again, and the mass of men became a massacre, a battleground of blood.

Kyrsain ducked the first blow his opponent gave him and quickly beheaded him, but no more defeated him than another man took his place, engaging Kyrsain once again.

Through the din and haze of battle, Kyrsain glimpsed the leader of the men--for he deemed that is what he was--engaging Trnshah. Their blades whirled back and forth, and showers of sparks illuminated their desperate swordplay. Slowly, little by little, Kyrsain saw that Trnshah was pushed back by the skill of the other man.

"NO!" Kyrsain yelled, and he stabbed wildly at the man and drove his way through the battle, hacking, slashing, just so he could get to his friend in time.

But he was too late.

As he emerged from the massacre, he saw the man--the cloaked man--stab once, and Trnshah slumped to the ground with an anguished cry, and said no more.

Rage, anger, grief--all of these combined into Kyrsain's emotions, fueling his swordplay as he ferociously attacked the man in the black cloak, the man who had killed his friend.

The man stumbled slightly, but soon recovered. He parried once, and then drove Kyrsain backward. "Do you think you can defeat me?" the man spat, hacking away at Kyrsain's defense. "I am the Dreadman, second only to Magorth."

The Dreadman? Magorth? Kyrsain felt sick to his stomach.

"Magorth has already won your precious Tterin, and he shall conquer all of Arowdae," the man taunted, "And then, you will forever stay in our darkness, be whipped by our people, and bear the brunt of our anger, for all of time, until you die."

"No!" Kyrsain screamed, wildly stabbing at the Dreadman.

A searing pain blasted through his stomach, and darkness hovered on the edges of his eyes. Pain, oh pain! His head swam and he collapsed to the ground.

"You have already lost," the Dreadman said.

But Kyrsain brought his sword up from the ground, and slashed, one last time, at the Dreadman. He grunted in pain, holding his bleeding side.

As Kyrsain looked up at the Dreadman, his hood fell back, and his hideous face was revealed, a burned, marred face with two black eyes leering out at him. Pain overcame him, and darkness swam under his vision. The Dreadman, growling in anger, swung at Kyrsain's head. He raised his sword one last time, in weak defense...

A flash of pain and death overcame his earthly body, his life was severed.

The Dreadman spat on the corpse, and left Tterin to burn.
 
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Tell me if it was too intense.  O.o  I may change it a bit.  Tis completely unedited. :)  Tell me what ye think!
 
--
Jake