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The swordsman threw himself up from his bed, breaking a hot sweat--apparently a nightmare. His eyes where shut still as he breathed hard. His legs refused to stand up; he just needed to stay there for a second and sort out his thoughts. Breaking a look ahead, he saw another day and another reason to move forward. Packing his bag, he began trudging once again.

He was about right, it was about a half a days walk to the road bringing it to noon with the sun directly overhead. The path was a cobble road--well worn by its travelers. It was also well used as a main route between Brouge and Andador. Walking a few miles in the now blistering heat, he found what he was looking for. He waved his hands, saying, “Hello sir,” taking a bow. “May I catch a ride with you to Andador? It’s a long journey by foot.”

“Well...,” pulling his cart to a stop, he eyed the man over. His eyes clung to the sword fastened on his back. He probably figured if the man was a thief he would’ve been dead by now, which was correct observation for the most part. “I’ll let you ride, Mac. Hop on the back.” The swordsman did as he was told.

The cart was a tad weathered but still good for use. Its wooden wheels only started to splinter. From the look of the nature of the wood it showed round imprints from transporting barrels. He didn’t have any this time, though--whatever his reason. The fighter could’ve seen the man as a farmer or a merchant by carrying so much of the same thing. Its smell was that of a farmer, though. He was dressed for town. Normally farmers wear their work wear around with many stained earth spots. He must have been going to a festival or a party or something else. He decided it would be better not to ask, though.

“Thanks, Sir.”

“Call me Jaraldan. You have a name, right?”

This wanderer gave a look of hesitation, then speaking, “Spyn. It’s Spyn Dovadaog.”

“Nice to meet ya.” The farmer smiled, turning forward and starting the cart. The mule started moving at a brisk walk.

“Nothing to do but sit back and wait,” mumbled Spyn as he leaned back in the cart, making himself comfortable.

He just lay there, blanketed in his own thoughts. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the farmer scream, “Obra attack!”

Spyn jumped to his legs, grunting as he drew his sword. His heart had half stopped. He just couldn’t believe what he saw. Most obra attack in large packs, a lot like wolves. There were only two.

Obra were like the human extension of wolves. They had furry bodies that were a golden brown so soft you almost wanted to pet it. You probably would if they didn’t normally carry black battle axes. The axes themselves were made of material as heavy as lead, that only they or an extremely strong human warrior could carry because of its weight. Their blades were made in the shape of a half moon on both sides. The weapons weren’t very ornate, but they sufficed. Even without the weapon, though, their sharp claws could cut a wound three inches deep. Where they lacked, though, was in thinking. They could handle basic strategy, but nothing much beyond that. They just lived for the thrill of the hunt. The strangest thing is, they normally avoid humans if they can help it.

The farmer’s mule desperately reared back, running into a gallop. With the weight it was loading, though, there was no way it would be able to escape.

“Hold the cart. I’ll stop them!” Spyn jumped off, eyeing the obra as they approached. One was coming up on him faster than the other. Taking a stance, he blocked the first oncoming blow above his head. The monster was much stronger than him, though, slowly pushing the ax down on his sword. He pulled to the left, spinning his sword in a circle, then planting it into the beast’s back. “One left,” he said, pulling it out. He turned just barely in time to dodge, taking a slash to his arm. He jumped back, then cradling it. Agh! I wasn’t paying close enough attention! Maybe the curse is starting to get to me. He closed his eyes for a moment as the obra started a charge, focusing. The obra took swing after swing, snorting at every other block, being met attack for attack. Uppercutting his sword, Spyn slashed its right hand off causing it’s weapon to go flying. He delivered the final blow to its stomach, causing the animal to howl in pain. You could almost feel a bit of compassion for the animal if it wasn’t trying to kill you.

Crouching to his knees, he cradled his arm now. Spyn turned his head to look for the cart. Jaraldan was gone, though, like any normal man running scared. You couldn’t blame him. But there were few who would stand up to fight anymore.

Recleaning his sword, he sheathed it back to its domain. He had to get moving before the rest of the obra clan caught his scent. They don’t take well to the killing of their brothers. He stood up, a bit dizzy, but he walked. He came closer and closer to the village as he went. He hoped he would arrive before nightfall. The obra were riled up that much over something bad. They just don’t attack that unorganized and outnumbered by their foes.

It was just getting dark when when he saw the town lights a mile in the distance. It wasn’t that big, nothing special really. It had no walls for protection. The buildings going to the second floor were few and far between. Getting closer and closer he saw few people around-- probably the time. Walking in the first vicinity of buildings, he heard distant howls beckoning him. Secluding them from his mind, he continued. Few people numbered the streets; most were in bed for the night or in the taverns having a drink of ale or sake.

He searched with this eyes, looking for a inn. He was looking for the latest gossip, and a place to stay. It didn’t take much exploring to find it since he was in the center of the town. It was probably the tallest building there, reaching to two stories. Whitewashed white, it had an interesting, almost gaudy look. It worked, though, the obvious work of country people. He walked inside. To his left was the bar which was his first target. Taking a seat, from the other side of the room, the waitress glanced up at his direction.

She walked over asking, “What do you want?”

“Gimme a shot of whiskey.” He paused for a moment, then asking, “Do you know where I could perhaps look for the Aegis cup?”

She gave a look of annoyance as if having heard that a million times. She bore a black dress--nothing fancy, but it was enough for the job. Food wouldn’t show if it spilled on it, and it was nice enough to be showable to people. Her light brown hair was pinned up giving her a very worker look. “How would I know if no one else has ever found it?” she said as starting to walk away and hopefully getting the drink.

“Well, you could’ve just told me you didn’t know.”

She turned back, fuming. “Stupid outlanders. It’s hidden in the Mercury Forest as it always has been for centuries. Most people who have gone after it have never even made it back. Why do you want to meet the same fate?”

“Thanks then. Just wanted to make sure. I know that the obra are the protectors of it, too, but they won’t stop me.” He paused for a minute, almost making a connection. No, that couldn’t be it. No one’s ever made it, the couldn’t have this time. Spyn started sifting through his sac, happening upon a map. The woman was long gone getting the drink. It was amazing how much disgust that young face could show. Pulling it out he scoured the map once over. “Not far from here...I’ll start my search in the morning. I’ve wasted so much time..but it won’t do any good if I get killed.”

“Here,” the waitress plunked down the drink onto the table, going back around on her business after taking the money.

Choking it down, he went over to the counter, ordering a room. He was ready to turn in early. The drunken laughter just didn’t excite him enough tonight to stay up and ask around. He still needed to get the obra scent off, too, before it stuck to him harder. Just before he was about to walk up the stairs, someone barged in, tall in stature was he. His blond hair flailed as he turned around to anticipate some yet unseen foe. Something seemed familiar about him. Somehow, he knew it was in a bad way.