"It's almost time, sir," said a mechanical voice in the shadows. "Good, we'll be ready," said a droning, ancient voice. "If it's war they want, then it's war they'll get." He gave a long wheezy chuckle that made the hair on the back of everyone's necks stand up. Just then the metal doors on the far end of the room banged open. The cold wind from outside blew into the big room, blowing out the candles. The room was filled with complete darkness and silence. No one dare breathe, afraid to call attention to themselves. The loud clack of someone's heavy shoes approached them. The person in the darkness snapped their fingers and then the candle in the center of the table came back to life. In the low light of the room, the Council and their servants could only see a sliver of the strange person's face. They could tell that the person was a man just from the little they saw of his face. One thick, arched eyebrow, and a red, wet scar that ran from the top of his eyebrow down to the top of his wide mouth. The man had a black hood covering his head and a long pure silver sword that glinted in the candlelight. The elder at the head of the table was the first to speak. "Who are you?" he asked sounding braver than he felt. The man with the hood turned slowly towards the elder and gave a slow, vicious smile. Slowly, he brought his hands up to the top of his head, pulled off his hood, and stepped directly into the light. The Council gasped at the disturbing sight they saw before them.