Life in the city of Thrall was not easy, even for the ‘rich’ among the population. Day to day existence depended on two things: luck, and quick reflexes. There was little or no economy to speak of in Thrall, due to the fact that it had been 3 entire seasons since the meager farms that supported the city had produced enough food to export. The city of Thrall seemed to be spiraling down into the depths of a dark tunnel of strife, with no light heralding the end.

Every year, the townsfolk became more and more destitute. It seemed as if the spirits that controlled the weather had forsaken them. The rainy season that usually ended the dry months became the dryer season that foreshadowed the lack of rain to come. The once strong river that flowed within a stone’s throw of town, dwindled into a mere creek, and no longer supported the rich assortment of freshwater creatures, which the inhabitants of Thrall were accustomed to feeding on.
Then one day, a 15year old boy fell while running through what used to be a wheat field. The boy knew the field like the back of his hand. .

“Strange”, remarked the boy, as he looked down at the field where he fell, “ There were never cracks in the topsoil such as this!”

Looking deeply into the cracks, he saw that not only were they dark, but that there was a total lack of light all together inside them. The cracks in the soil spider webbed themselves across the entire field. To the boy’s astonishment, they continued off onto the next field. The boy decided to follow them.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed the boy, “ they’re moving toward Thrall!”

He began to pick up his pace, but felt a sense of dread washing over him. Although he tried to dismiss the feeling as over excited emotions, he could not shake them. Then he noticed that he actually had to leap over the cracks in the ground, not just step between them. The air became colder and colder as he came closer to town. He began to shiver, and see his breath floating through the air.

When the boy got close enough to see Thrall itself, what he witnessed was spine chilling. Several large, heavily armored knights were mercilessly killing everyone around them. No one was spared. An old man died when one of the darkly armored knights snapped his neck. A mother was killed while she held her small child in her arms, suffocated by the grip of a grim agent of death. Men, women, and children were bludgeoned, beaten, and strangled, but the murderers used no blades. Through the feelings of horror and dread, the boy managed one last moment of lucidity.

“ They’re leaving their victims intact…. THEY’RE LEAVING THEIR VICTIMS INTACT!”
When the boy was a small child, his grandfather would tell him bedtime stories about the Death Lords. He would do this to get a scared rise from the little one. Stories the old man heard from travelers in the tavern that once operated in Thrall. He would tell tails of dark knights, armored in the souls of their victims raiding towns to replenish the slave count of their Death Lord masters. While the Death Knights were hunting slaves, they would kill them quickly, and without damaging the ‘Goods”.

“This can’t be happening”, said the boy. His fear was doubled and doubled again when he heard a raspy, cruel voice say, “Thought you could get away, eh boy? You will make a fine kitchen hand in the castle of our dark lord, Hands Stops the Heart. What is your name, so that I may proudly present my lord with a fine trophy such as yourself ?”The boy attempted to scream but could not utter a word. “What is your name whelp? If you do not tell me, your passage to service of the Death Lord shall not be easy! I demand you tell me your name!”

The Death Knight reached out for the boy, and should have easily caught hold of him. To his confusion, the boy effortlessly slipped just out of his reach. Then he made a mad dash for the hobble that was once his home. He needed to try to save his family from this horrid fate. He did not know what he would do, but he knew he had to help his family. As he rounded a corner heading toward his house, yet another death knight tried to waylay him.“Hey there, Boy! Come over here to me, and tell me your name. I promise I will kill you painlessly, and present you to my Lord. You will make a fine stable hand.”

The Evil knight was on top of the boy faster than should have been possible. There was no escaping this one. He had to do something, anything. With a shout, the boy struck the Death Knight as hard as he could in the chest. He knew that it would not do anything to help, but he did not want to die without a fight. His hand floated easily past the Death Knights half attempt at a block. The Soul Armored knight was confident in his ability to absorb this little, wiry excuse for a boy’s punch. There was no pain from the blow. There was no shock from the impact. The only effect was that the death Knight could not move. He could only watch helplessly as his prey turned, and continued to run towards his house. “This is becoming very strange”, thought the boy, “ I should have been killed twice now, how is it that I survive?” At last he made it to where his house stood. The first thing he noticed was his entire family being loaded into a horse drawn cart. All of them were dead. The Knight who had killed them stepped out of the doorway, and looked coldly down upon the boy.

“ Come to Join your family, have you child? Well, It will be my pleasure to reunite you with them. Come here. Don’t bother running, you will just die tired. Tell me your name. I need to know your name so I can be sure I have gotten this whole family. I am not permitted to allow anyone in this town to escape. Tell me your name so I can add it to my list. I will win the Death Lord’s contest for collecting the most named slaves. The boy stood silent, frozen with fear. His fear grew as the shadows deepened around the death knight. But, the flicker of the fire that burned from the walls of his home cast shadows around him as well. The shadows surrounding the boy were inviting. Not at all numbing as the ones that seemed to emanate from the Death Knight. No, the shadows that flickered off of the boy, felt like they could take the place of his home. They called to him, but he knew not why.

Tongue of Pain took an Armored step toward the boy, and drew his jagged blade from its sheath. “ If you do not tell me your name this instant you little bastard, I will sever your arms from your body, then remove your legs. Next, I will peel your skin back from your chest so that I can watch your heart sputter, then stop, with my own eyes” The boy glared at the angry knight and spoke through clenched teeth, “I have no name!”
With that, He stepped backward into the inviting, velvety shadows that were beckoning to him, and vanished.