It was just another day. Another trip to the next town for some reason or another. I basked my face in the sun as we rode through the forest. My helmet off to my side with my eyes closed. My horse Timothy knows to stay close to the carriage and today just feels like so many other peaceful afternoons. I let the warmth of the sun permeate through my body, trying to get my dull aches and battle scars to ease. I am escorting my Lord Estaban’s daughter Lera back home from our little trip. I am rather enjoying my little break to sunbathe. There are 7 other guards with us, all under my care. I will be turning 57 next spring, ‘about time for me to retire from this line of work.’ I think while coming back out of my little bask and don my helmet once more. My armor is an ornate piece of artwork but serves me well. Shiny but scratched and tested adamantium metal with gold accents along the edges and lining the intricate decals of the Lord's insignia upon its front. A Chimera with a sword, spear, and axe felling the beast. Long ago, it is said that My Lords founder slew a Chimera with 2 others. The Founder, Fryzeric Estaban, wielded a massive axe the size of 2 men. His wife, Jamaia Estaban, was a master of the spear. The final member is lost to time, however his skill in using a sword is still known for he is the first Grandmaster of the blade. The creator and discoverer of Martial Aura. The physical manifestation of magic. My helmet is of the ‘Frogmen’ variety, based on the beastmen's peculiar facial structure but elegant all the while. My shoulders are covered in smaller than average pauldrons but that is a personal preference. The norm would have them nearly clear the top of my head. Which is ridiculous. ‘How would one even be able to see to their left or right? Preposterous.’ I muse as I silently judge one of my men for having such things.

I have served my Lord for nearly my whole life. I was 16 when I first showed talent with the sword. Then 19 when I first used aura. Of course, it was pathetically weak but still earlier than normal and got me a good job. Along with the resources to keep growing my skill. Soon all I could think of was my talent. It was only when I was in my 40’s and reached the peak of Martial Excellence did I realize that I never bothered to look for a woman to settle with. ‘No matter, I suppose. Far too late for that now. Perhaps I’ll adopt once I retire.’ I dwell on my past mistakes and move on. I stopped worrying all that much about it after a few years.

I am brought out of my deep introspection by the call toward the front. “ATTACK!” is all I hear before an illusion is dispelled and reveals at least 30 bandits and one wizard. No… A Death Mancer. The abhorrent fools that cast reversed healing magic to deal grievous wounds. They have us caught in a surprise attack and are sneering, laughing, and being general arseholes as they joke about what they’ll get to do to the young miss. My men are no slouches, however, and are already upon them before they can even react. One, two, four, and then 7 bandits fall dead before they begin to back pedal and curse. Fear stricken into their vile hearts. I hop off of my dear horse Timothy. He’s simply too young to be used in battle quite yet. I unsheath my blade and let my rage at these disgusting, horrid, laughable excuses of human beings bring forth my blade aura. My simple bastard sword is engulfed in a radiant blue hue that shapes and morphs like a slow wispy fire. I let my men deal with the half on the right and swing through the air toward the left. A nearly invisible blue arc cuts through the space between me and the group of vermin. In but just a single moment. A singular fraction of a second. 9 bandits fall. Split in half like they were trees felled by a skilled lumberjack. I raise my sword to strike the mage who stands nervously but otherwise does nothing to defend himself at the back and slightly raised on a hill. Before I can bring down my blade to smite the thing like an insect, a pain shoots through my entire being. As if my very soul is being ravaged and torn asunder. I fall to my knees, but I hang onto my sword with a vice-like grip. Before I am able to stand and push through the pain, I feel something within me stop. Something that has always been active but have barely paid attention to. My heart has ceased its drumming beat. I felt it then. A hand pressed into my back. I turn and see the true Death Mancer. A sickening smile on his face. The battle falls silent to my ears as the world grows dark around the edges of my vision. He begins to walk toward the carriage. I see the horror on my Lady's tear stricken face as he walks closer. Time seems to slow and the rage and disgust I feel reaches a point I have never felt before. ‘I will not… cANNOT FALL HERE! NOT NOW!’ I scream into my mind and force my body to stand. My slow descent to the ground halts, my left hand slamming into the ground. The energy of my aura soars to heights I have not felt since my prime, and promptly surpasses it in moments. I clench my teeth and force my feet under me. As I stand, I notice the wisps of blue smoke leaking from the gaps in my armor. Time begins to speed back up and the Mancer turns around startled as I begin to charge at him. I feel the ground tremble as I force my body to move. He begins to cast some spell to protect himself, a barrier of red appears in front of his outstretched hands. I stab my sword through it with unnatural ease and pierce him right in his nose. The blade quickly splits his face and his body falls without half of his head. The energy of my aura seems to burn his body, as a soft blue flame eats away at the cut. I turn to the bandits but most are dead already and the survivors are turning to run from my men. My men are wounded and scratched but nothing lethal. Whatever well spring my energy came from seems to dry up and I falter. The darkness returns to the edges of my vision. Before I can even say goodbye, I meet the dirt face down, and leave the living world.

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