Ereshk hurried through the streets of Charten, little more than a ghostly shadow in the wind as he flitted between houses and through alleyways. Without metal armour to slow him down, or metal boots to clang against the cobblestone streets, the dark mage was remarkably quiet compared to the din of battle erupting all around him. Mister Carthul had ordered him to evacuate civilians, so that's exactly what he was going to do. Ereshk knocked on the door of any house he came across, yelling that the town was being raided and that everyone should head north and east away from the assault.

Ereshk himself was slowly fanning south, towards the broken gate. There were fewer occupied houses here. Most of the townsfolk had either already left, or... The smears of blood in the dark alleyways told him all he needed to know. He grimaced, cringing away from one such stain on the wall while clutching his grimoire tightly like a teddybear. Ereshk gasped as he heard a muffled scream from the alley in front of him. His dark brown eyes opened wide, and he could feel his head turn to stare into the darkness of the alley. Ereshk was screaming inside of his head, pleading with himself to turn and run, but his body wouldn't listen to him. The kid took a step towards the alley. Then another. And a third. There, up ahead, as the alley came to a dead-end, were the shadowy figures of a large man with someone much smaller and weaker than them. Ereshk's blood began to boil. The man had to be stopped. But how? He flipped open his grimoire. There was a spell. There was always a spell. Yes, Ereshk had the perfect spell. The perfect penetrating punishment for perpetrators of precocious and perverted ploys. He began to chant in the ancient language of elder magic.

"Eh? Whos're!?" The man threw his captive to the ground before fiddling around with his equipment. The captive cried out upon hitting the ground as the man hefted his axe over his shoulder. "Oi, another hero-type!" He laughed, charging at Ereshk with a gleeful, sadistic grin on his face. 

The power of the human soul is immense. Humanity has within themselves the capacity for greatness, both great good and great evil. Love and hate, joy and pain, peace and war; the human soul is a two-headed coin with great potential on either side. But this was not what Ereshk was after. He could feel the buzzing radiance reverberating within his soul, and it was indeed powerful, but his goal was a power much stronger than that. His mind stretched out further, into the void beyond, and he cried out his prayer to the Darkness. This was a ritual Ereshk had done countless times before under his master's tutelage, but something felt different today. Something was off. The darkness of the void that Ereshk channeled through himself felt alive, more than it ever had before. It mingled with Ereshk's raging, boiling blood. It fed off the writhing and conflicted emotions that lashed out from both sides of Ereshk's soul like brilliant solar flares. The void's power engulfed him entirely, smothering the blazing light of his soul with its soothing darkness. Only one thought remained: obliteration.

Thin dendrites of darkness spread from the corners of Ereshk's eyes as he chanted the invocation from his grimoire. Strange energies began to flicker around him like pulsating lights. The ghostly after-image of some sort of runic circle began to flicker on the ground around the mage's feet. Ereshk finished his incantation and looked up impassively at the charging bandit. He felt no emotion. Emotion was a construct of the soul, and thus completely alien and incomprehensible to Ereshk while the powers of the void gripped him. 

The bandit seemed to recognize that Ereshk was casting a spell. He looked like he was preparing to dodge a fireball as he charged towards the mage. Ereshk canted his head. Surely the bandit should know better? This was no fireball. Thick tendrils of shadow shot out down the walls and floor of the stone alleyway from Ereshk's feet, racing at breakneck speed towards the bandit. The bandit's bloodlust saw only Ereshk, and never saw the shadows of the alley turn against him. The racing tendrils lunged all at once, piercing the bandit from all angles, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. A fine pink mist spread out in all directions. For the briefest of moments there was the pitter-patter of rain splashing down on the cobblestone bricks of the alley. As Ereshk's spell dissipated, releasing the energies back into the void, several large chunks of meat slopped to the ground. The wet slapping noise they made as they hit the cobblestones caught Ereshk's attention and snapped him back to reality. 

[i]The sight. The smell! Oh gods, what have I done? That was- He was-[/i] Ereshk collapsed onto his hands and knees. He was trembling. He felt sick. Disgusting. Wretched. He did this. He called this forth. The smell was overwhelming. Ereshk vomited up what little he had eaten. Clutching his grimoire to his chest with a death-grip, the mage crawled over to the side of the alley with the last of his willpower. With no more strength left to hold himself upright, Ereshk slumped over, unconscious.