Jack stood tall, black wooden cane in hand and a majestic silver robe hanging casually from his broad shoulders. With dangerous eyes, he observed the world beyond the window glass. Blackthorn was a town with interesting but primitive architecture, shadowed by a hill and mountains in the distance. Yet, from this vantage point, Jack could also oversee the never-changing barren landscape that encircled the little oasis of Blackthorn. The streets were deserted and devoid of any activity that should be present during the late afternoon. Jack could practically smell their fear. It was both delightful and saddening.
"Ugh, you monster, bastard, creature!" Leon O'Neill, Mayor of Blackthorn and slave trader on the side, screamed bloody murder. "Just KILL ME AHHHH," he shrieked as Jack casually played with a thread within his sea of consciousness, causing spiked golden chains to tense around Leon's soul, like vipers choking out prey.
