Battlemage of Death, Luke the Spectre...

There was silence in a clearing as a man broke through the line of trees separating the space and the dense foliage appeared, facing a total of fifteen men.

He had a {Black Obsidian} sword hanging from his hilt, and a head full of curly black black hairs. His body was lean, but packed with power, and his stance showed he had a perfect grasp over his body and center of gravity. 

He strutted into the center of the men who all looked powerful in their rights. These men had serious expressions on their faces and dangerous auras, but they all held onto magical staffs. The only person in their midst that wielded a weapon was Luke.

"What did they want this time, Luke?" A man with glasses and a physique smaller than the other men in the group said to Luke in a small effeminate voice.

"They wanted to eat some roasted mutant beast meat, so they called me to make the fire..." Luke said with a cold look on his face.