The Troll

All seemed lost, the battle had gone on for days, and there seemed to be no end to the massive hobgoblin horde. What was hurting even worse was the fact that two hobgoblin warlords had entered the fray. The warriors of ravenspire were doing there best to rotate men into the front lines while letting others rest, but the last 24 hours had been so horrible that there were barely enough men to hold the line at all. First Man Kethis Bane-Breaker was a noted warrior and tactition, but even he knew that this battle was lost. The captain had also been missing for the last 4 or so hours, which meant he had either deserted, or died. There was little else Kethis could do however, he really only had one option, the small farming village to there west would fall and become a hob goblin base or staging point, and that was unacceptable. His only option was to hold the area as long as he could, all the way to the last man, and hope that bought enough time for reinforcements to show up and reinforce the area. What Kethis knew for sure, was that he was going to die. Well, he knew this until that man showed up. The man, a mysterious figure, rode in to battle alone. He had a long flowing red cloak, and rode on a night black horse. The man had long raven hair, and had a sword that seemed to dance with crimson in the light of the sun. Dashing into combat, over the lines, the man went war. He was amazing, powerful, and unstoppable. Each swing of his sword sprayed streams of red across the battlefield, and he never once retreaded, constantly pressing forward. Kethis lost sight of the man several times, only catching a glimpse of that flowing red cloak in a sea of blood red every few moments. The First had no clue how much time passed, though it seemed like hours, it was more than likely far less, but in the distance, trotting back on his horse was the man with the red cloak. The day had been one. Trotting past him, the mysterious man kept riding, not saying a word, until Kethis interrupted the silence with a question. "Who.. who the hell are you?" The man stopped a moment later, halting his midnight horse and moving his cloak around him as he turned. "You may call me... Kechupe'" with that, he rode off, no doubt on a quest to pave more red into the depths of the hobgoblin enemies.