The unhallowed soul worked his was from peasant to farmer. Each death empowered this nightmare to stay manifested and to chill the very air around it. As "cold stare" moved the force of the frost on the ground rose up to meet him then melted as he passed. The look of hopelessness on these fools was quickly replaced by the decay of their flesh. The sword it carried slicing effortlessly into the soul of the next helpless wretch.  None of them had time to even pray. They would all feel the abandonment and despair of his *passing. His gift to these worthless souls was a quick death. A few escaped his dark power mostly due from an archer hitting his mark but having the arrow pass through this apparition and strike the poor fool opposite him. 

It made little difference where they hid or what they wore his blade sought them out. He would avenge his lost soul. These people were no different then any other, and they would all come to the same end he did. His anger grew and was matched by the aura of cold he was emitting.
These warm, breathing fools, how dare they! They dare to be ignorant! They dare to be complacent! They dare to let him rot on the road! Where was there hope? He would crush it in his despair. "Cold stare" had become frantic, the movement of his sword, no longer quick strikes, but mad swings. Each stroke cut through man, woman, child, and pet(kid holding pet, cold stare doesn't seek out pets. He also dosen't see pets). Each body that fell became putrid and unrecognizable. 

* passing can be taken both ways.