Kor clenched his sword and prepared for battle as the two clerics stormed the temple. Under normal circumstances, he would immediately find a way to retreat; a pair of clerics would be troublesome and time-consuming to deal with, but given the current chaos outside he doubted that they would be getting reinforcements any time soon. Plus, the building on fire. They were men in cloth, he was a monster in armor. It didn't take a genius to figure out who would cook first. 

Kor flourished his blade, but then, rather than swinging at the clerics he slashed at one of the long, burning curtains hanging from the wall. He caught the top as it fell, and after a couple of twirls of his wrist he was holding a burning whip. He walked slowly towards the clerics, letting the burning end of the curtain drag along the ground, setting the carpet and wooden benches on fire. He advanced with the flames as the clerics backed away, pointing the staves at the Darkwraith. Then one of the clerics decided to begin uttering a prayer to fight back. As soon as Kor saw the man's lip twitch he swatted at him with the curtain. Reflexively the cleric went to block with his staff, and were it a normal whip the two would have been deadlocked, but this whip was on fire, and a good amount of his staff was made of wood. Kor gave a sinister grin beneath his mask as the staff caught fire and the cleric was forced to abandon his weapon.

The second cleric was no fool though and took the opportunity to attack. He channeled a spell into his staff and lunged with a purifying strike that would annihilate any undead flesh or demonic items on contact. Kor simply raised his blade and blocked the strike. It was a shame; this cleric could have gone far as a demon slayer with that kind of power and perhaps would have become a worthy opponent for the Darkwraith one day. But alas, Kor's sword and armor were both demonic only in appearance. The more-or-less ordinary metal did not react to the spell, and Kor could easily brace himself against a single strike. He did feel a numbness rushing through his arm for being in proximity to such magic, but that could easily be dealt with. He let go of the curtain and threw what appeared to be a left hook at the cleric. Suddenly, there was a blade of tangible darkness in his hand, and then the blade was in the cleric's neck. One down, one to go.

The first cleric would not back down despite losing his weapon. Instead, he took up a fighter's stance and prepared to face the Darkwaith with unarmed combat, his fists glowing with holy energy. Kor advanced on this opponent, blade of metal in his right hand, blade of darkness in his left. The cleric was getting exhausted from the heat now and knew he would have to finish this monster fast. He dashed forward, ducking under a sword swing and put all of his holy energy into a mighty punch that would punch right through the Darkwraith's armor and tear a hole through his wretched, heartless chest. However, where the cleric expected there to be a blade, there was now a rippling, black shield. His hand struck a solid surface of an indescribable texture, and then all the cleric could do was pray.

Holy men were delicious, no doubt, but they were indeed a pain in the ass. If that punch had hit him directly it would have dealt some serious damage to him. What saved Kor was the simple fact that he had been fighting longer than this man had been alive. His reflexes were quicker, his muscles stronger. A searing pain shot through his arm as the cleric's fist struck the Dark Hand, but before the magic could do any real harm, he parried the cleric's blow, leaving him open and off-balance. Once again, the Dark Hand glowed bright red, and Kor snatched the cleric by the neck. It was over. He felt the humanity flood into his body, and this time rather than merely satiating his hunger he was able to indulge with complete lucidity in the joy that was feeding. Kor would let this one live. It would be a shallow husk of a life, but the Master did want some fodder left in tact. This cleric was no longer a threat. He could no longer cast spells or attack in any semblance of an intelligent fashion, but he was still very much alive. Even the soul was still there; it was simply bereft of all humanity.