For several days now, Saral had been trying to find a way to be as he was, even as he knew he may never be alive, and he had come to terms with that... he would be Sir Blackhand. He had to be Sir Blackhand, and stay Sir Blackhand until he was truly dead again or he'd be far beyond empty. Saral needed his name, it was his full identity, and living as someone who didn't exist was a horrible thing to him. He needed to be the knight who stood at the top of the tower of Irin and threw the owner off. He needed to be the knight who stood against a troll with a weapon of fire, and matched the beast's power, while far surpassing both its skill and endurance.

So he had arrived at Dori'ba as the sun went down, intent on staying until the sun rose. Whatever he faced, and in however many pieces he ended it with he would finish with verification. He would finish with pride. The twisted and corrupted site would where he began to be Blackhand again, whether he left or not. Drawing his axe and his sword, ridding himself of his cumbersome cloak, and letting out what would've looked like a grin if he had more skin Saral watched as the old bones moved. They twisted, tangled and assembled. The sun was gone over the horizon. Any safety that may have been in the landscape had abandoned Saral as the dead gathered improvised clubs of their own.

With one sight of him, they knew that even though he was undead, he was not one of them. Crying out in anger and charging blindly, the dead began their onslaught. "For the Blackhand", Saral yowled above all their moans and cries as he charged as well. The first to fall to his axe was down only seconds after his charge, and almost instantly another went down by his sword. Even with his frenzied killing, a few of the dead managed to chip at his exposed bone and tear at his rotten flesh. This would be a fitting challenge, he knew.

((...Sorry. I can do better, I swear.))

Walking along his favotire place for relaxation, Alten could see something happening. He could see what looked like a man in a cloak. Usually anyone being here and at this time of day would mean some kind of truble, there woul usually be a fight breaking out or some kind of attack on one person. This was the perfect place to give most people fear and have ontrol over the weak. Alten knew this because he himself has seen thing in there that no other would want.

Alten fallowed the man untill he came up to a group of the dead. Alten thought of one of the most seen undeads that walk around, the Skelleton Crew. They were some of the worst to walk these dead lands and it was nothing good if it was them to be there. Just as soon as he saw the group of the undead he also saw that the man was actually just like them and undead himself, Alten thought that the man might be one of them and by the looks of it new to the walking while dead or just not accepted for some reason bythe rest of them. Alten would have jumped in to do something but he didn't care, yet. He just watched the guy that was acutally dead but by acident tripped on something and fall away from where he was watching creating a laud sound when falling on some leaves that were on the ground.

Alten got up and looked around, chances are he has been see by the group of the undead so he started walking in his own usual calm and quiet wat to where they were. "May I ask, what is happening here?" Alten asked the group od the undead to find out exactly what it is that took him away from having some nice time to himself, he got distracted by them and couldn't go to a piecefull time without knowing that he wasn't going to end up involved in something that he didn't want to. He had gone a long way to get back there and have some time tothink and be by himself forthere to be a few truble makers messing itup for him. It was his day going to night and he was going to make sure it would stay that way. No one would mess his quiet time for him.

Finishing another few undead, taking down the initial group while completely ignoring the clearly insane person wandering the area without even the skill to walk correctly. Still, he had an obligation to help people. Even the stupid ones. As he dispatched the last with a mighty skull-crushing swing from his axe Saral at least attempted an answer. "I am here to make this place as it should be. A place without these. From now until dawn, I repeat.", he answered as bluntly as he could without using too many words just before charging at another group, taking these ones by suprise and smashing two before they ever knew he was there.

In a flash he had another one pinned with its own club and stomped the skull to nothing but shards, initiating a lust for violence. Finally the undead reacted, swinging useless and powerless blows. Saral dodged and parried with ease. Almost grace, he appeared to make this slaughter somewhat like a dance, albeit an unstructured and brutal one. Letting out a roar of anger and joy woven together, Saral tackled and pinned one with only his arm, keeping it down by driving his rusty sword into the damp soil. With his newly free hand, Saral snatched another skeleton by its rib cage and tossed it at the last one. Both fell down instantly and Saral used both hands to make a mighty strike, making both skulls nothing but a single pile of bone shards.

Saral reclaimed his sword shortly after from the moist earth, coup de gracing the last of that part of oposing undead with only his heavy foot. He raised both weapons to the sky in triumph, silently declaring himself the victor. As his bloodlust slowly faded, Saral noticed the idiot who walked around the undead once more. Raising his voice to be heard over the distance he created by charging the undead once more Saral gave a command, "Leave this Light-Forsaken place or you're doomed. I have no time to watch over you and myself just now."

Alten kept watchin the dead fight eachother, It was an unfair fight for the most part. He could only see one of the undead making a difference in the fight, and he was hardly effected by anything that the others did. He was interested in watching the fight and he studied the things moves as if something compleatly new to be seeing in a fight. He had oth seen the dead and life fighting, and dead on dead but this was something more interesting because one ofthem was acting with more rational action than the rest. It was something to stay and watch.

It was coming to a short end for the moment as the one to be taking the lead was running out of other to attack and Alten saw him act as if he had just won a war, maybe he didn't know but they were in the land where the dead came up as a joke. There was way more for him to take care of if he wanted to get rid of them all. "Leave this Light-Forsaken place or you're doomed. I have no time to watch over you and myself just now." Were the words to come out of the winning undead's mouth. Alten looked at him strangely, "I mean to take no place in your fight and mean no offence but I can do well by taking care of myself. I am one to have walked these lands before, many time before. I know I can take more that good care of myself. But if you think you have won something you have alot ahead of you, there are much more zombies, skelletons, and anything from the creeping night thought to as demonic and to avoid here. You don't stand a chance if you think you are done." Said Alten in return to the undeads second line of words.

Alten looked around to see if any more were to come any time soon but it didn't seem so, it was a slight break for the undead that didn't seem to need one. Alten would help him but he was one to only help on call and only if truly needed, other wise he would just watch and let the other fighter fight their own fight. It was his way of showing respect to fighters good or bad.

Saral listened halfway to the man he had already identified, whether it could be considered true or not. As the man finished, Saral was instantly responding in his insulting manner. "I said I couldn't protect you, and that I'd stay until dawn. What kind of idiot gets that I think I'm all done here from those two statements?" He said, no small undertone of contempt in his voice. A second after, Saral was scanning around for the next group of mindless undead, back to ignoring the man he identified as an idiot.

Even as he searched, though, a large and fleshy zombie smote him in the side, appearing silently, and far too quickly for any kind of normal zombie. It had seemed he found something with a mind left here, if only a small one. Plunging his sword right into the fleshy belly and using it as a springboard for his arm, thrusting himself up to be above it, and forcing it to mounds of flesh and bone that seemed to be its knees. Before he could continue and finish the beast off entirely, though, he was knocked away to the ground. Even before Saral could rise, the zombie was on him, and pummeling away from above. Saral was now aware he couldn't match it for strength, and ripped at it by moving around the sword plunged into the torso of the beast.

Crying out in anger, the beast leapt away. Then Saral realised it wasn't truely undead, as he was. Saral felt no pain, and hardly noticed even as he was being damaged by the mindless undead. That creature was something else entirely, Saral didn't care what it was, only what it wasn't, and that it still had his sword. he charged at it and rended with all his might, tearing apart its rib cag with his sword, still lodged inside, and with his axe he cleaved into its skull. With a few more of his blows, the beast was dead. Half a moment later, it was undead. Before it had a chance to avenge itself, Saral tore into its neck and seperated head from body.

Alten finished alking and soon after the undead "hero" was talking back to him."I said I couldn't protect you, and that I'd stay until dawn. What kind of idiot gets that I think I'm all done here from those two statements?" Said the undead "hero". Alten stared at him and lowered his head. "I mean no offence but you sem to over look your own action, the pose of glory you were taking is what I was in referral to. That made it seem as if you were giving glory to being done with the undead." He told the hero as soon as the hero was finished with his own words. But as Alten finished talking out of no where some other creature came out, it was as if any other zombie that was around. With the exeption of The undead hero not being able to take it back to death as soon as the others.

Alten watched as one zombie with rational thought take down another and saw that it created a struggle. At the very end the one fighting for survival till dawn won be removing the head of the other strange creatur. "There are more of those around this area, mostly the leaders are the only ones that can be of such a challenge. They are faster, stronger, and are for the most part the only ones that can think." He told the undead fighter, almost sure that the dead hero would have already known but just giving him a warnning about the situation just in case.

"I will leave you side to a farther part where I will not be slowing you down." Alten started walking away as he watched more zombies and ever none zombie creaturs that were coming out. He was going to leave it all to the dead hero and only fight to protect his own life if any were to come at him. But with the masive amount of attention he was bringin to himself, it would be no surprise if nothing comes for Alten and all goes to that undead hero. Alten would only watch as more of the last one he took came out. Leaders to the dead were at rise and headed for the dead hero. If anything it could be the end of the hero if his power was not enough to keep those monstrosities back. Their numbers were great and the worriers of the dead were starting to come out. Those with the great wepons from the past made of the strongest material. This was a fight for the dead man to not look forward to but Alten by how the dead man spoke could assume that he wanted to take on all those dead to undead freaks.

Large clouds had begun to pass overhead at this point, making it difficult to see beyond a few feet when they covered the moon and stars. Each time it was bright enough to see far away, it could be noticed that Saral had left behind a trail of bones. At this point, he was hardly stopping to rest. One moment of making sure all his foes were truly dead, and a charge for the next group. His charges were slowly becoming reckless and mad, yet he had never yet had too much trouble dealing with a surplus of foes. Indeed, he had seemed to encourage more to come at him, so he could hear the satisfying crunch of his axe shattering bone.

Every so often he saw fit to tear bits of his cloak off to form a temporary bandage. This was only to keep anything from falling off. For as he ended the cursed lives of the natives, Saral had seemed to replenish his arcane bindings. The small fractures in his bones were sealing, the flesh mending. He had hated this, he had hated that his body was no longer just the house of his soul, but the house of the dark arcane. Each time the knight healed, he knew it was the dark energy being leached from the mindless into himself. Still he took pride in the mind he possessed, the one that would not be shackled as theirs'. This filled him with confidance as he seemed to take more on then he could handle, five, six, seven, eight... even eleven.

Pride had fueled him, honor had fueled him, his name had fueled him, but his true drive was his will to protect. Protection was the greatest role a knight could fill. Though he did not see it as a passion, not like his pride and glory, the will to protect was the underlying drive in everything he had done since resurection. Even without knowing it, he was thinking of the children living nearby. When this struck him, Saral could not help but manifest the new rush of pride and shout, "I am a knight!", even as he plowed the mindless undead before him.

((Your character runs off... Saral does things not related to him. Can't help it.))