When the wind howls and the night brings forth it's terrors, it is the heroes that hold the line for good, for mankind. It is they who bring forth the holy light to smite those that hide in the dark. It is they the legends are told of and they that the smallfolk scream the names of in parades and in songs. But what is said of the other side, of the people that spit in the face of the heavens and laugh in the face of defeat, they of who no songs are sung and no parades are held for. Hushed whispers are told to childrenof the likes of Beritold, the King of Insanity and Hilstadt Breaker of Worlds. But they are legends who the world trembled to look upon. I mean how is a young villain meant to make his way in the world if every time he enthralls a populous or brings forth a magical plague they are assaulted by heroes with the mandate of god. And thus brings us to the tale of Kinshala a young villain trying to make a name for himself.