Steel clashes against steel as the armored man’s sword slams into yours. The force pushes you a few inches backwards, towards the temple. You didn’t know who he was, or what he wanted, but he’d demanded entry, and upon denial quickly became combative. Your teeth grit as you raise your sword to counter once again, the man silhouetted by the sinking sun. The pieces of slate black hair that escapes his bun stick to his face with sweat, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. He knows what he wants, whether you do or not, and he’s determined to get it.