The Gods of Many Hues huddled up together, muttering in hushed whispers, their eyes  glinting and shimmering in the pale moonlight. Suddenly they stopped their whispers and jumped up in bamboozlement, looking around asking daft questions. They all looked up to hear a piercing screech of a cackle; it hit their ears like a tidal wave on jagged rocks.

There standing on a tall hill, directly under the huge blue moon stood a dark figure, evil red eyes butchering the will of the Gods and Goddesses, boldly the source of the cackle. The man’s glare passed upon the Gods and Goddesses from afar and shook a question into their minds; who was he?

Although the figure was leagues away, every breath he took, every move he made,  moved his black armour, and the Gods and Goddesses could hear it. Again he laughed, this time more brutal, as if he wanted something. As he did this, a black steed rode towards him at full pelt from behind the Gods and Goddesses, bringing with it a raging cloud of dust and smoke which gave the impression that the steed was on fire, black fire. Animals surrounding the hill ran for all it was worth back to their smelly little holes. The steed stood next to the man and waited for him to mount. The horse snorted with stress.