Vignettes from the Battle for Tymbren: Shadow

He bared his teeth in a savage grin befitting of a predator. The more timid of his opponents shrank away, but the others swallowed their fear and faced him. It was cute, in a way, when they had no hope of defeating him.
He could feel them. Smell them, really. The terror wrapped tightly around their hearts as he moved from one shadow to the next. Night was his hour, and what were they but children torn from their parents at birth, placed in "crechés" to be raised as cutthroat warriors from an early age?
He supposed he could understand, but what he couldn't do was sympathise. He'd long since quashed that small and terrified child inside of him. In the depths of a shadow that brooked no light, he decided that he would no longer fear the darkness within and without. Instead, he would be its master.
A cool breeze blew by, stirring the blades of grass that glistened silver-black with blood in the moonlight. He sniffed the air and licked his teeth. He could smell the delicious and acrid tang of fear in the wind.
With a single step, he melded into the shadows. He reappeared behind his target, golden eyes gleaming in the darkness. He swept his void-black greatsword at the soldier, but the blade made no contact as the soldier dodged backward.
He savored the momentary relief that graced the soldier's face, but flesh had never been the target of his attack. The tip of his weapon bit into the soldier's shadow and sundered it in two. The soldier's eyes widened as his face grew slack and the shadow was devoured by the blade.
It was then that the battle started in earnest. He laughed as the soldiers rushed at him only to find shadows. Their efforts were admirable but insufficient. With each swipe of his greatsword, more and more of them fell.
He was sure his old master was rolling in his grave but he wasn't the scared young man he used to be. He'd abandoned the graceful sword arts of his youth, better fit for single combat, for a style that was as brutal as it was effective.
It had been a long time since he'd let loose like this, and oh, he'd forgotten how exhilarating it was.
He stopped for a moment, to catch a breath. Around him, the soldiers backed away.
Some proud warriors they were, he laughed. He'd never seen a more pathetic sight than them, trembling as his golden eyes flashed in the dim moonlight.
They might have been the pride of their country, of their world, but such distinctions didn't matter. To him, they were all orphans. And their pain was nothing short of delightful.