Timing--Outsider

[DwMcAliley]

The ettin roared again, its guttural language sounding like boulders rumbling down the side of a mountain. It swung three times with the massive stone war hammer it held in both hands. The sound of the thigh-thick shaft whistling through the air made the hair on Ascher's neck stand on end.

The creature was reaching the end of his endurance, finally. It was panting hard now, both sets of nostrils flaring as wide as they could go. Its movements were jerky now, wild and uncontrolled. They were the last, desperate convulsions of rage the beast had left.

Each time the huge stone warhammer swung towards him, Ascher would roll to the side, using his shield to deflect the blow if the ettin somehow managed to adjust its trajectory in time. As he came up, Ascher would step in quickly, slice at the creature's legs and forearms, and dart back out as it wound up for another swing.

There was a red, steaming lacework of gashes across the creature's chest now, as well. With that many wounds, if the beast were going to see reason and flee, it would have done so already. This one was lost in the throws of a mad, primal rage. It wouldn't stop until it tasted blood.

Ascher sighed, it would have to be put down. The mountain air suddenly seemed cold in Ascher's throat. The smell of thick, coppery blood was thick in the air. He took a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, calming himself.

Ascher stumbled on a rock, and his footing slid out from under him. The mountain had betrayed him.

The Ettin roared again, a triumphant sound, this time. It grabbed the end of the stone warhammer, and raised it high over its head. Its eyes were wide and wild, full of the kill to come.

Suddenly, Asher rolled backwards, crouched, and pulled a short spear from the strap on his back. He aimed, balanced himself carefully, and launched his whole body, feeling the shaft of the spear leave his hand almost as an after thought.

The spear sailed through the air, spinning just slightly. The warhammer was still rising when the foot long spearhead drove into the Ettin's outstretched throat.

Its triumphant roar cut off suddenly with a sickening gurgle. The warhammer slipped from its fingers, thudding heavily to the rocky mountainside. The ettin sank slowly to its knees, clutching at the spear in its massive throat. Ascher drew his serpentine blade, stepped swiftly and smoothly up to the monster, and drove his blade deep into its chest.

The ettin's twisted face looked shocked for a brief moment, and then it slumped to the side. Ascher pulled his blade free, wiped it clean on the creature's tattered garments, and saluted it. As he broght the closed fist of his right hand up in front of his face, the brand of the Keepers was before his eyes.

The scar had faded some, but it was still clear on the inside of his wrist. It was the second branding, the one that had signified his acceptance into the order. The first brand was voluntary, and meant to symbolize what the cadet was giving up. It was a sign of a cadet's commitment to the order of the Keepers of Shadowcove and it was on the left wrist.

The Keepers decided when you earned your second branding, initiating you into the order. Ascher had earned his when he'd pulled his Commander out of the hands of brigand slave traders that had been trying to sell him to Orcs. It had taken three weeks for his wounds to heal enough to allow him to stand for the branding. He'd refused to take the brand in his sick bed.

Ascher shook off the memories, and dropped his salute. The Keepers had been another life, another time. He slammed his blade into its sheath, and retrieved his short spear. He cleaned the steel head and re-tied the shaft to his back. Ascher retrieved his horse from up a side trail, patted Fletch's neck, and turned to ride back down the mountain. He rounded a bend in the trail, and froze.

For a flash, the briefest of moments, he thought he saw a figured beside a tree off to his left. When he turned his head, the figure was gone. Ascher frowned, but kept riding. He'd been catching glimpses every now and then of a figure, he thought was a man, dressed in finely-tooled leather armor lined with gleaming metal studs.

Whoever the shadow was, he was good at not being seen. And for now, he was content to let the watcher watch. He had nothing to hide. Still, it made him more than a little uncomfortable to be shadowed, especially someone good enough to stay hidden.

Ascher shrugged uneasily as he continued his patrol. The Village was spread out, and its borders loosely defined. There was still a lot of ground to cover before he rested tonight. As he left the low shoulders of the mountain range and returned to the thick forest, Ascher felt like he had eyes drilling into him from the shadows.

He loosened the blade at his side, and tested its draw, just to be safe. The watcher was only watching at the moment....but that could change....

[Jupiter]

*to the man (or woman) chronicling the tale of Ascher*

A courier arrives dressed in the current fashion of Moonglow. Holding p out a parchment he bids you read it:

Dear sir,

It has come to my attention that you seem to be privy to a first hand observation of the activities of one named Ascher.. A man who prefers to remain an outsider. I have of late been studying your manuscripts and I would like to know if I may submit them to the records of the mage tower. Though it is beyond my site to know just what fate lies ahead for this mysterious character, I am certain that his tales will provide many to come with a wealth of knowledge that riches simply cannot buy. If you would agree to this please send a courier to the Cat's Lair in Paws. If
we are unable to connect at that location please feel free to return
this courier with your reply.

Best regards,

Jupiter the grey

[DwMcAliley]

*Runs a hand through his beard*

*Nods, and signs the parchment*

*Seals it with red wax, bearing the emblem SxC in the seal*

*The Courrier rides away*

Esteemed Jupiter,

I have delivered your message, and it was well received. Lord Kraw gives his permission, along with his sincere thanks for your regard, for his records to be submitted. He is cautious, and slow to trust, but he is warming to the village.

Lord Kraw wanted to give his special thanks for a lady that entertained him with conversation a few nights back. He wouldn't tell me her name, but would only refer to her as, "The Lady of Fortunes."


In Faith.

Vantick
Faithful Squire
SxC

[Jupiter]

The courier returned as Jupiter sipped from his morning cup of milk.

"Ah splendid, what news have you then?"

The courier said nothing but took two steps forwards and collapsed with parchment in hand.

Jupiter took the parchment and muttered to himself "Why can't any of my couriers survive a simple messenger mission? The world may soon run out of barefooted errandmen on my account..."

Holding the parchment he noted the mark on the wax seal. Speaking softly he spoke the words "to the archives" and the parchment vanished.

Lifting the expired messenger from the ground, Jupiter sat him in one of the guest chairs. "It's not that I don't care you understand," he conversed with the corpse, "it's just that you folk don't last very long in this land. No matter how often I find a courier to carry my message they always vanish after the task is done. Understand, that you are no different; you'll be gone in a moment and few will ever know that you were ever here..."