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The sun was high in the sky and the air was full of dust, sweat, and blood.

The battle had been raging for hours already and both sides had suffered great losses. It seemed to be a standoff, however, with neither side willing to give up ground. Bloodthirsty eyes watched from both sides as the knights on horseback clashed against the footmen armed with spears and swords. The battlefield looked like a slaughterhouse, with knights lying dead amongst their horses and dismembered limbs scattered across the ground. The moans of wounded soldiers were intermingled with cries for help and death rattles.

A lone knight on horseback rode out of the fray towards the back of enemy lines. His armour was dented and scratched, his shield chipped beyond recognition. His sword was slick with blood and his face spattered with mud, sweat and tears from those who he had slain. His name was Sir Thomas, but today he would be known by many different titles: Sir Butcher, Sir Slayer, Sir Bane of Men, Sir Deathbringer...

He drew near to where a small group of officers stood talking strategy. One officer noticed him approaching before pointing at him and shouting an alarm to the others. Swords were drawn as they formed a loose wedge around their commanders, who drew their own weapons in response. Sir Thomas drew his own sword as well before charging straight at the officers before he could be blocked off by his enemies. He let out a roar as he swung his sword in a wide arc over his head while charging through their formation. An officer felt pain course through him as he took one of Thomas’s slashes across his chest before falling forward into another man who also fell down dead under Thomas’s tide of steel.

Thomas continued to charge through their formation as if it did not exist until he reached their leaders at its other end. He swung his sword again at another officer, who parried it aside using his own blade before trying to strike back at Sir Thomas himself only to find his blow deflected by Sir Thomas’s shield that now lay forgotten on the ground beside him after he threw it away upon entering combat. Another officer tried to fell Thomas with a wild slash but instead lost his hands to Sir Thomas’s sword before receiving a stab wound in his gut that ended all thought of resistance in him instantly.

Sir Thomas then turned to face the remaining two officers who were now standing back-to-back while they waited for more men to come to their aid against this madman who killed so many of their comrades in mere moments while they barely escaped death themselves with nothing but superficial cuts to show for it. They glanced around worriedly as they saw no sign of any reinforcements coming nearby anytime soon while they prepared themselves for what they knew would be their last stand against this vengeful spectre that haunted them ever since he first took up arms against them weeks ago when they started this campaign against him and his land.

Sir Thomas bore down on them slowly, savouring every moment that brought him closer to ending this long duel between them before noticing one of the officers glance over at a nearby crate sitting atop a stack of supplies and taking note of something resting inside it that looked vaguely familiar amidst all this chaos...