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Short Story
(Another old one that was recentlly edited.)

One by one the fires in each house were diminished, signaling that it was time to rest. As the last few houses dimmed a faint sound began echoing through the streets. Clink, clink, the sound of heavy chainmail bounced off of the stone houses. A bulky, cloaked figure emerged from the outskirts of the city, with a sword in hand. As it walked through the darkened streets, it tapped each house with the tip of the sword. As soon as the blade had touched the house, the sounds of illness responded. Hoarse, hacking coughs and sickly grunts and groans followed in the knight's wake. Corrupting each house on his path, the knight made its way to the hill in the middle of the city. Clink, clink, the sound of the chainmail rang louder than the cry of the ill-fated city and stopped as soon as the knight reached the peak of the hill. Looking at the city that surrounded the lonely hill, the knight pressed the blade of the sword into the ground and raised the now free hand into the sky. Screams of terror and pain filled the silence of the night. Closing the raised hand, it struck the hilt of the sword, driving the blade deeper into the ground. Fire began spewing from the sky in large fiery streams of rage and fury. The knight laughed at the site as he retrieved his weapon and retraced his steps to the outskirts of the city. The Black Death had been brought to the unsuspecting city as a firelit moon glared down at the forsaken people. Black Death and the Burning Moon, two halves of damnation had consumed a grand empire in a single moment of chaos and destruction. And with a final clink, the knight disappeared into the fiery night and onto its next victim.