Also, please note that there may be a slight editing to this first bit, but i'll inform you if such a happening occurs (hopefully someone still wants to read this....)Oh yeah and here's Chapter 1
The Tale Of Jonacin
Chapter 2
As he lay in the dust, his sight fading, Jonacin thought back on the events of the past five years. He had mastered the art of fighting in heavy armour, becoming skilled enough to defeat all opponents he was matched against in practice duels. After the resident masters deemed him worthy, he was granted the title Master Ansei, and they offered him a position as an instructor in the Hall. He accepted, and spent the next three years teaching those who had entered the Hall after him in the arts of the Ansei.
However, after a while he had grown weary of teaching, wanting to go out into the world and see what there was to see, and he had also grown tired of the frequent practise duels he fought. He longed for real combat, a chance to test his skills in a situation that wasn't rigidly controlled by both a strict code of honour, and even stricter rules. One of the things he most wished to try was combat against more than one foe, as he knew it would be one of the best tests of his skills, but in the Hall bouts were always one on one. So he resigned his post at the Hall, although he was informed there would always be a place for him should he return and want it. He set out into what was, to him, the unknown. He traveled from place to place, never spending long anywhere. Any who asked his aid, whether it be in matters martial or menial, he gave it, asking only for a hot meal or a warm bed in payment.
It was this that caused him to be out in the desert. A farmer had asked him to go and deal with some bandits who had been troubling him and several other nearby farmers, stealing crops and livestock or simply destroying them. Jonacin had agreed, and had set out in search of them after replenishing his waterskin from the farmer’s well. He followed the directions the farmer had given him, and soon came across tracks. He followed them, and came upon the bandit camp.
He came upon them at night, and counted five men around the fire, three of them sleeping and two of them on watch. His stomach growled as the scent of the meat they had roasted earlier wafted over to him, so he backed off a safe distance and pulled some dried guarmeat from his pack, reflecting, as he chewed upon the tough, salty meat, that travelling light definitely had it's bad points, before lying down to sleep, deciding to go into the camp at dawn. He woke at the hour known to soldiers as Wolf’s Tail, a time when the sun was just rising and bleached the colour from everything it touched, turning the world grey. He checked his armour, making sure all the straps were tight, and loosened his katana in its sheath. He crept up on the camp once more, and saw the closest sentry had fallen asleep, as was evidenced by the gentle snoring to be heard. Obviously these men had become lazy, having nothing to fear except a few farmers up till now. He swiftly ran into the camp, calling out as he did so. To some, announcing his presence might have seemed foolish. But such was the way of the Ansei. Besides satisfying the needs of honor, the shout disoriented unprepared enemies and gave him a few precious seconds to close the last few feet into the camp. His shout roused the bandits from their slumber, and he cut one down with a thrust through his throat as he rose from his sleeping roll, still bleary eyed and unsure of what was happening. One of the sentries died next, his sword half out of his sheath as Jonacin’s katana pierced his heart. Jonacin heard a sudden movement behind him, and spun about, raising his shield as he did so. The bandit’s sword rang against the shield like a bell, and his attacker stumbled backwards. Jonacin followed with a swift disemboweling slash, and completed the reverse figure eight with a cut across the throat.
Suddenly something heavy smashed against his shield, and he felt his arm shatter under the blow. His eyes teared up with the sudden pain, and he staggered backwards. When he cleared his eyes, he saw the remaining two bandits bearing down on him, one with a sword and the other with a heavy warhammer, obviously the one who had shattered his arm. He knew he could not hold them both off at once with a broken arm, as it left his left side completely open. Unfortunately for him, so did they. The man with the sword circled to his right, and the one with the warhammer to his left. Jonacin turned to the one with the sword first, hoping to dispatch him before the other could line up a blow with his ponderous weapon. He attacked, and the man parried, but wasn’t quick enough to fully block the blow, as it rolled round his guard and bit into his throat. Just as it did, however, the bandit with the warhammer struck. His weapon crashed against Jonacin’s helm, and it was ripped from his head.
Dazed and barely able to see, Jonacin staggered backwards, lashing out blindly in front of him. He gave a satisfied smile as he felt his blade bite into flesh, followed by with a yelp of pain. He felt, rather than heard, the heavy warhammer coming at him, and leapt to his side just as it whistled through the space his head had occupied but a moment beforehand. He quickly stabbed out with his sword, and felt it slide through the man’s gut.
As his head cleared a bit, he knew he had to get out of the sun quickly and see what he could do about his arm. He grabbed at his waterskin, and his shoulders sagged as he felt its wet, empty bulk at his side. He had split it open when he had dodged the last blow from the warhammer. He saw a cave in a nearby cliff, probably where the bandits had stored their loot from previous raids. He began to make his way towards it. As he walked, he thought that maybe he should have attacked the man with the warhammer first, as his armour could most likely have withstood one or two blows of the sword until he could deal with that bandit. But at least he had survived to not make the same mistake again. He was about halfway to the cave when suddenly his legs collapsed beneath him and he slumped down into the dust with a muffled clang. The acrid taste of the desert sand filled his mouth, his vision faded to black, and he lost consciousness.
have given you great writing powers...
) stories.
