The man gets to his feet and starts walking over to Lord Drew Kronkman-Syth, a hungry gleam in his dark eyes. Fear catches the Lord by the throat, colder than the rain gushing down on him.
His instinct is telling the Lord to run away but it's too late now. He know knows the threat but cannot do anything about it.
The man with the ripped shirt is getting closer. Lord Drew Kronkman-Syth pulls out his sword, ready for a battle. From the expression on the other mans face, anyone would of thought the Lord pulled out a decaying stick rather than the deadly sword in his grasp.
The Lord is a excellent swordsman and a deadly fighter, anyone would know that by the sword he carried, but the man in front of him walks towards him with purpose. The man walks towards him like he isn't afraid. That's because he isn't afraid.
The Lord is prepared for a duel, he has another sword which he throws by the soaked mans feet, he will never fight someone who can't defend themselves unless in the matter of his life.
The soaked man ignores the sword and keeps walking, the Lord knows he's a threat and would sadly have to despose of the man in front of him. He tries to stab the man but it's as if his body isn't his, he can't move. Can't control his limps, it feels like he's a lonely spectator in his own mind, unable to do anything but think and watch in fear.
The man is now a few steps away from the frozen Lord, he stops and lifts up his hand. Lord Drew Kronkman-Syths sword falls from his grasp, making the rain water splash up his legs. He watches in terror as the wet man puts his strong, col, hand on the Lords chest.
Coldness seems to travel through his clothing, towards his skin. As his bare chest comes in contact with the coldness everything quickly changes.
Th rain starts to pick up as the Lord regains control over his body, he can do nothing but scream out in pain, falling to the rain-wet earth as the coldness changes to fire. Invisable fire traveling, first on the outside of his skin, now on the inside.
It burns through his viens, traveling towards the organs, burning them aswell.
It circles around his heart, slowly burning through and then traveling to his brain.
The soaked man took his hand off of the Lords chest, satisfied.
"Up." The man says, picking up the swords from the ground, his voice clear and strong through the raging storm. The Lord gets to his feet as if on autopilot. Inside he's screaming at himself to stop but nothing happens. He's trapped. Trapped inside himself, unable to do anything without the man in front ordering him to.
The man gives him back his sword, smiling the most evil smile Lord Drew Kronkman-Syth has ever seen. "Come on. Lets go home shall we?" His smile widens as lightening strikes.
Unable do stop himself, the Lords body walks the man towards his eastate.