The blade quivered in Malachi's hand, each heartbeat amplified along its length. It had slipped in so easily, right into the vital place between two ribs. This was the power of the nightmare blade, and it quickly drained the life of the bandit. He fell to the ground motionless, and Malachi withdrew the rapier from his chest. Blood poured thickly from the tiny hole, black in the moonlight. Before the second bandit could speak, another voice shouted over the din.

“See boys? THEY BLEED LIKE THE REST!”

One of his companions was injured, then. He gritted his teeth, wondering who it was. Before the thought could fully form, two things happened in the same moment. The bandit hurled a torch over Malachi's shoulder, and another rounded the corner of the house, sword at the ready.

Still two against one, Malachi thought. They just don't want to fight fair. He glanced back at the torch. It had landed in the worst possible place. Flames licked at a pile of dry burlap sacks, which might as well have been kindling doused in lantern oil. The shed began to fill with thick black smoke. It was no longer a question, this place was a trap.

The shadows were retreating now, but not yet gone. Mal took one last step into the recesses of the shed, collecting his advantage once more. The fire danced in his eyes as he moved through the smoke. Yes, this would do nicely. Having once more bound the slippery shadows to himself, he encircled the flame with his blade, capturing it in the groove.

The Argent Blade burst out of the shed into the cool night air. Prepared to fight, ready to let the shed burn, and mindful of his purpose, he faced down his next enemy. His cloak floated behind him, pulling with it a gout of smoke. He smirked, knowing how he must appear, a creature of flame and shadow wreathed in smoke.

Holding on to the moment, he moved to attack. With a flick of his wrist Mal gathered the fire to the tip of the rapier. Thus concentrated it became a dazzling white light dancing in the darkness. Mal twisted the blade again. Suddenly it seemed a bolt of lightning struck upward from his blade. Before the light died, Mal thrust his sword into the chest of his opponent.

Fear still filled his opponent's eyes, and Mal's met them with a cold stare. Full of malice and a little high on the moment, The Argent Blade spoke a single word.

Run. 

[[OOC: Move to gain Child of Shadow concealment, ending in the space occupied by a corpse. Initiate Blistering Flourish. Everything else is just fluff.]]