Michael de Shade - Knight of the Veil 

Shifting his feet on dirt and gravel mixed with broken concrete Michael smiled. “I haven’t had a descent dance in years.” she said chuckling. “Do you think you can match me, child of darkness?”

Not even the local Chapter knew who and what he was. To them he was a Knight with descent skill and a bit of a reckless abandon. He’d slain demons, more than most and in single combat.

If the Order knew just how many he’d killed across the centuries they’d shit themselves stupid. Hell, if the Order knew how old he truly was they’d quiver in their night caps and wet themselves in their dreams. Hell, once they figured out how far he'd jumped to land on vehicle and save the Nephilim they'd have question. How did he survive? How wasn't he hurt? How did he know she was there?


He’d buried more Knights in the field of battle then existed in this city. And every one of them had been a friend. At least until he’d stopped making friends.
Taking the void he slipped into the old forms, not the new and crude hack and slash styles that all the young knights used. But the styles used in the times before gunpowder. The times of the Crusades, and before that.

Morning Dawn followed by Michael Slays the Dragon, flowing into Leaping Tiger. His blade and shield were extensions of himself as forms he’d used for centuries came to him as simple as breathing.

One cut and the demon would be crippled by pain, and then he'd bury his blade inside its flesh and free the human from the corruption.