When Aleric stood in the wasteland of his spell's soulscape, he held the Ghost Blade in his hand. His opponent stood weaponless and without armor, only in white tunic of a templar and with a faint glow of Light around him.
He was staring at Aleric with righteous anger.
"Necromancer… I heard about such magic. You will not have my soul!"
The paladin raised a hand, and a copy of his own sword appeared in it. Although he wasn't dressed in armor, Irkan made a fearsome and heroic sight. He was just the right mix of youthful but mature and handsome but rough, with his short brown hair and stubble on the jaw.
But Aleric only smiled.
"I already have it, inquisitor."
He swung the Ghost Blade, summoning shadows of this place and directing them at Irkan. Dark tendrils came from the ground and grabbed Irkan in an instant.
The paladin grabbed a clump of them with his fist and tore them out, destroying them just as easily!
