It was a quiet morning and the weather was clear for as far as the eye could see. A stout man with spiky black hair rode swiftly down the high-way, he had alot of ground to cover before nightfall, and he wanted to avoid the dangers of the marsh come eveningtide. But alas, that would be impossible, as the road was temporarily closed for upkeep. The sun began to crawl across the western sky.

With a hopeless sigh, Xaneros sat atop his pony before the construction sight overseen by the Royal Guards that patrol the road often. As the sun crept down the last stretch of the sky, at last the construction finished; the problem? a pothole from some wagon passage earlier. Xaneros tipped his helm as he finally passed by, the guards raising a hand in greeting, 'Sorry for the trouble, the road should be clear for some time now, but beward the Southmarsh- its getting late and danger lurks on that narrow road at night. Good evening!' Xaneros rode by calmly, knowing all to well of the bandits and highwaymen preying on the side route to Quessa. But there was no other choice, it was getting late, and his purse far to empty for the toll of Bristane. So he began his trek south. After a swift trek down the sunset lit road, he finally arrived at...Southmarsh

It was well into evening when Xaneros arrived at the narrow road through the bog of a marsh that sat between the Southern Mountains and the sea. An eyesore at best, the crumbling road was the only way around the toll of the Bristane gate. With another hopeless sigh that seemed to be plaguing him all day, Xaneros carefully rode down the embankment onto the road, proceeding through the eerie dark provided by the spindly trees that surrounded the road.

As the night dragged on, all seemed well. Xaneros had reached the half way marker of the highway, a narrow path to a run-down bar. Peering down the remainder of the stretch he shrugged,'Not that desperate.' And he rode on. Not much further down the road, trouble began. His tired pony trudged wearily on down the road, when a twig broke off in the surrounding marsh. Startled Xaneros turned around, drawing a glimmering gold hilted blade and swinging it into the darkness. But there was nothing there... his nerves mustve been getting to him. He turned back to settle atop his pony, when he saw a man standing in front of him, a dagger in hand and a crossbow in the other.

'You ther! Drep yer weapon en yer meney!' The man's voice was nasel and coarse, much like his appearance: A gruff man, with a sad set of whiskers atop his curled upper lip. His nose had apparently been broken at least thirce, and his squinty eyes seemed suited to the darkness

Xaneros remained motionless, staring down at the crossbow that was pointed at his chest. His weapon was tightly gripped, but he was in no position to attack, at least not now. Another aganizingly long moment passed before finally he set Defender quietly in the grass near his pony. The bandit smirked, moving over to get it, and shouting a gruff order, 'Disment! Now!' But he did not get down immedietely, waiting for the man to reach for the sword before swinging down off his horse and into a frontal lunge for the man's weapons.

Throwing an uppercut with his left hand, and reaching for his sword with his right, Xaneros managed to knock the man back. But just as victory seemed inreach and his sword finally reclaimed, a piercing pain erupted from his back, near the shoulder blade, forcing him to collapse to his knees. Casting a glance behind him, Xaneros saw a troupe of two other bandits, one with a recently fired bow. 'Feck! Meh nese!'The scruffy bandit rubbed his bleeding nose, snarling down at the prone Xaneros. 'Hahaha. Lookie whats we gots here boys.' The archer stepped forward, drilling the end of his bow into Xaneros' wound with a chuckle.'Nots much fors ah former Soldier of Gelathia eh boys?' Xaneros managed to expluge a slight groan, regaining his senses slightly. The men began to search his saddle bags, tossing out the various trinkets and baubles from the hamlets of the region. Another reached for and claimed his swords, before at last he managed to twist onto his back and sit up, reaching into his belt.

'Well goodmorning sunshine!' The otherwise quietly bandit crooned out, entertaining himself with a necklace and some coins as he regarded Xaneros. But his toothless grin would be the last thing anyone would see on him, for with a quaff of a vial Xaneros was on his feet, his hand clutched around the neck of the man. A final gasp escaped the mans lips, just enough to draw the other's attention, and revealing them to the events.

'Blest! Get hem!' The scruffy bandit called out to his loot-laden pal, but it was too late. Moving with precise and agile motions, Xaneros managed a dagger into the archer's throat, ending his life rather mirthfully.

The final bandit stood in horror, glancing down at his fallen comrades. Not a moment passin before turning to bolt, sprinting through the shallow, murky waters of Southmarsh. Xaneros calmly reached for the man's bow, pulling a single arrow from the quiver, nocking it and taking aim. He steadied himself and aimed

*THWIP*

The single arrow had found its mark in the back of the fleeing bandit, and with a splash he found himself buried in the waters of the marsh. Xaneros sighed slowly, rubbing his bloodied back beneath the folds of his armor. The nectar was starting to wear off, and the wound was starting to smart. He would have to have this tended in Quessa. In the pre-dawn glow of the sky Xaneros quickly reclaimed his belongings, packing up the carefree pony and riding off down the road to the Ocean... with another, hopeless sigh.