[b]he grabs the hilt as one goes to hit him and stabs it through the face. It dies. A melancholy grin spreads across his face below his ancient mask that his predecessors had given him, and had worn before him, in the same position. Letting out that same ungodly, psychopathic laugh as he mows through the hordes, mutilating heads from their bodies.[/b] "SILVER, YOU NEED SOME HELP?"