Before reaching Pancreedy Timothy simply wandered the land pointlessly after having been cast out from his familial nomadic herd of centaurs for being “unnatural.” His Father who Timothy had always looked up to as a great warrior and his only parent, had also turned his back on him with nothing to say in the gathering except that it was “for the best.”

So he left a heartbroken boy with nothing but the cloths on his back and his father’s old War-runner sword. A giant long hunk of unknown metal that consisted of a hilt that was a third of its length, which made it more of a polearm than a sword. But Timothy still carried it with him as he spent many nights crying under the stars.

He foraged for food and ate grass, which thankfully his people were able to sustain themselves on.

He wandered from town to town and village to village to village with one of those being the place the poor boy was beaten and his sword stolen.

It had been too big and too heavy for him to use, but nonetheless it was his only possession. So when he awoke to find himself bleeding and bruising, Timothy then realised it might not be a good idea to come into towns or villages anymore during the day.

So later when he had first arrived in this little village of which he did not know the name of, it was in the dead of the night on a weekday. There was not a soul awake in the peaceful little place as the skinny and starved boy searched through the bins for food. For berries and grass were one thing after awhile and that was bland.

There was no one awake except for the old Dwarven pub-owner who came out to find him squirreling through his refuse behind the pub, where there was nought but empty bottles and scurrying splines that chased after the mice.

Timothy stood half in the dark with the pillar of the light that was cast from the doorway illuminating his scrawny form where he crouched at the precipice of bolting away at any sign of violence or usual words shouted in anger.

But instead of the usual harsh reception or the thrown objects, the Dwarf simply beckoned him in for a hot meal with some weird grumbling.

Later on the old dwarf introduced himself as Topal, which Timothy found to be very weird considering he never spoke a word…

But he clothed him and fed him.

Then the next day he introduced him to the Direclaws who happily took him in along with a promise of a job if he wanted one. All done through mumbling and grumbling..

At first Timothy expected some sort of ruse and he kept on waiting for this to all be some wicked ploy or sick plot. But the weeks went by and nothing…

Shade was aloof and carefree but he particularly enjoyed dispensing advice when it came to swordplay. The old veteran Pantherian even seemed to favour him more after he found out that Timothy was a Glade-Swordsman… even if it was a common two-hander class amongst centaurs.

Gazelle treated him like any other recruit and didn’t show any form of favouritism at work or at home. She only expected chores to be done and him to put in his share of work of which was just a reasonably moderate amount. To which Timothy was fine with as long as he had a roof above his head.

Even if the Leonid pushed him hard, Timothy never had any word of complaint. For he knew that it was for his own benefit to become stronger in this dangerous world. A place where a stranger would kick an orphaned boy or steal the only thing a homeless child could call their own.

Fellclaw seldom spoke with him but when the moody young man who was nothing like his mother and father except his looks, it was to share a random joke before he slipped back into his silent brooding.

Timothy sometimes got jealous that Fellclaw would be more animate around Crag, but he also understood that they were friends of the same age and knew each other for years before he showed up like some dirty beggar.

The eccentric family made meals at the dinner table quite weird, but to Timothy he wouldn’t know any better considering he had never been at a table before joining the Direclaw’s.

He also knew that they didn’t have to take him in, he also knew that he was a unnatural-looking Centaur but still the Direclaws still accepted him without comment. So far for the last two months he had started to get used to living with them and working a few nights in Scimitar’s Glint. With the apy going to help pay for some basic sundries that was needed by the household or else for reading and writing classes at the traveling tutors when they came into town. The Fellclaws were not in any wont for money and had refused his contribution at first, but he had insisted. The small gesture just gave him a measure of comfort in knowing that he was able to contribute back to his own benefactors.

He also was given a job in the village guard where he took his training and job seriously even if the pay was low, because he was making a difference. He now had a home, a family and real job that was to keep people safe when before he had nothing.

He even found a friend his own age in Dornmit-Tars even if the boy seemed innocent and aloof. Of which he should be, considering he had not had to see the darker side of life like Timothy did.

Timothy also didn’t mind that Dornmit liked to talk a lot or bullshit sometimes, because the orcish boy never judged him. Realms they even started to become friendly rivals with each other at work.

At his work as a guard, he was fortunate to be trained by two Master-level trainers who also happened to be his foster parents. But Timothy suspected that Shade was even at a higher level then that, even if the handicapped veteran would not disclose his level.

Nowadays he had now long given up on the notion that the people in this town wanted anything from him or had any bad intentions.

They were simply just good folks.

…..

Trying to hide his own fear, Timothy leaped over the fence before walking towards the centre of the ring where his opponent waited for him.

With the sand crunching below his feet and the sound of waking songbirds as his audience. The female Chitpulkas were now also hissing and slurping menacingly, of which he was sure was for the Elite’s benefit.

The crimson splatter of blood that erupted away from Stuart’s mouth was still there as a stark reminder to him of what awaited him.

But Timothy knew that he would never grow strong if he shied away from opportunities to grow like the one before him, no matter how painful it may be.

Remember it is always better to sweat and feel the pain that you impose on yourself on the road to becoming strong.. rather than the pain that others inflict upon you for being weak, instructed the same Leonid before him a few weeks ago. With the very same words fully carved into his psyche and used as a mantra when he trained. They were indeed very good words.

Timothy nodded towards the Leonid woman who stood a nearly a whole hand-span taller than himself.

Gazelle said nothing in return but only replied with a slight nod in understanding. For to her it was only fun to mess about with the fearful kids. Whilst Timothy was a fine and brave young lad, he was not very fun to tease with his strict demeanour but nevertheless she still respected the boy for his hardworking ethos.

Remembering something, Gazelle then attested his approach by holding up a hand before asking him “Wait a sec Tim.”

Everybody there then watched as she walked into the circle. Where she then paused beside the prone form of Stuart on the floor before bending down to grab a handful of his worn shirt at the back of his neck collar. She then dragged the young unconscious Badgian along the floor by scruff of his shirt before letting go after she had reached the fence.

“She could’ve future worsened his injuries by moving him like that,” complained Jexnog but in a quietened whisper to his bandmates.

The booy thought his whisper went by unnoticed, but as the Leonid was returning to her spot in the courtyard her cat-like ears twitched before she rounded back to face towards the crew of inexperienced adventurers by the fence. She stared directly at the Hebdican with a withering stare that caused the youth to visibly flinch.

“Who do you think is going to be paying that glutton healer to heal you guys in the first place? YOU?! So shut up unless spoken to!” She barked with a snarl. Then upon seeing that the silly kids cowering at her retort, she allowed herself a small smile before turning back to Timothy.

“Now Tim… you may proceed,” she purred along with a closely guarded smile only for him to see along with another slight to signal that he should begin.

...

Now that he was faced with the actual spar against the Elite, Tim wasn’t so sure as to how he was going to proceed. For even without his weapons he was used to wrestling against the other guards using hand-to-hand combat, but he knew that it just wouldn’t work in this situation against such a small and agile foe.

As he stepped into the ring, Timothy then raised both of his long and lanky arms up into a boxer’s guard position as to protect his core. He also knew that he should be wary of protecting his head against the Elite considering how it had managed to easily jump high enough to kick the Badgian in the shoulder, even if Stuart only came up to his waist.

How am I going to reach down low enough to punch the creature? Ah, but by doing so I would present an easier opportunity for the Elite to go for my face, he wondered to himself as he tried to simulate the fight before it had even began.

Timothy then snorted out in disdain at his own pointless musings, for he should just fight the tiny Chitpulka using his best advantage which was his height.

…

“I’ve seen that skill of yours before,” commented Shade as Timothy demonstrated his meagre skills on the pell.

“And I’ve had the pleasure of fighting alongside a gold-ranked War-runner in one of my old campaigns who explained the ability to me,” he continued and made Timothy visibly perk up. For nobody had really explained his skills to him before, even his War-Runner father and yet, here was somebody who could help him.

“It doesn’t really make your blade stronger per-see.. but it does increase its durability with the buff acting as a primary barrier and therefore allowing you to enact more force,” he continued to explain as Timothy wailed away at the wooden poll with his own large wooden two-hander that was coated in meagre green sheen.

“Ha! Now I see you can hit at a defenceless piece of wood with some gusto, but what happens when you don’t have a sword to hand eh?” asked Shade before heading back into the house.

“I’m going in for some tea, and don’t forget to finish off the rest of your training for the day or else Gazelle will have your guts for breakfast…. but think about that skill of yours..” Shade then added enigmatically along with one of his wife’s patented teasing little smiles. The pantherian then turned away with a wave using his one-good arm in farewell.

….

It was simply enough to work out what the old Pantherian meant, especially to Timothy who liked to think things through when given the time to ponder.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Glade Sheath!” whinnied out Timothy before stomping down his right hoofed leg. The cry that denounced the use of his skill then was answered by a small faintly glimmering green sheen that covered the lower part of his legs.

Glade-Sheath was normally a mana and stamina powered buff he applied to his two-handed sword, but in this case he surmised it should work just as well to empower his kicks as it had proven to do so before against the poor trees in the woods.

“Hmm not a bad idea,” he heard Gazelle mumble from behind him and thus reaffirming that it was the right choice.

But if his display caused any concern in the Elite, it did not show it as it simply cocked its head to the side.

Then the black Chitpulka looked down at it’s own feet, before stomping it down whilst eliciting a weird slurping sound.

What is it doing? Is it trying to copy me? Pfft, what a stupid thing, this is a skill that is only available to the warriors of my clan.. even if I were only a castaway, thought Timothy impassively as he continued to observe the Chitpulka. The fear he had felt was beginning to fade away to be replaced by the tingling and excited nervousness of battle like a fever below his skin.

For Timothy was used to getting beaten up by Crag and Direclaw, who were much worse than this Chitpulka could ever be. Because even if they beat him whilst training him, they also did so whilst telling him why his lack of ability or his wrong decisions caused him to be beaten.

It was infuriating, but it did help him learn to get a measure of control over fear, pain and anger. A lesson which seemed to elude Dornmit entirely, for his friend just learned how to be better at getting beaten up rather than learn how to avoid it.

The black creature then continued to stomp its feet a few more times but after it realised that it was not going to be able to emulate the reverse-centaur’s skill, the Elite then hissed angrily before disappearing in a hop towards its own left and his right.

It then started to hop around Timothy as it begun to look for an opening to strike like it had just done previously against the steel-ranked Badgian.

But contrary to all expectations, Timothy snorted out angrily before lunging forwards and delivering a mighty kick downwards with his skill-clad right leg in a stomp onto the edge of the ring. The force of the resultant impact then sent huge clods of dirt up into the air as a small crater was rent into the ground.

Obviously the kick swung wide, but it did send the Chitpulka reeling back to reassess the situation.

Timothy also knew that there was no chance that his attack could have landed, but he didn’t intend to anyways considering the rules that his foster-mother had set in the first place.

….

The Great Chopeck was annoyed and confused.

Clearly the Danger-Thief was pulling of some sort of ritual to weed out the weaker egg-thief fledgelings using himself…. but why go through all this trouble? He surmised before wondering. Chopeck would’ve never done anything of the sort himself, as he never had enough sons around to perform such a pointless act.

Then there was this tall-egg-thief, which to him seemed weaker than the Striped-Egg-Thief.

But somehow he felt it was more dangerous.

It was mightily impressive how it had covered it’s real-legs with that green glow which Chopek was unable to emulate no matter how much he tried.

I have to commend you on your impressive display egg-thief but the playing ends now, he announced with an angry hissing slurp.

It then confused him to no end when he went in for an attack but was forced to retreat as the creature responded by slamming with an unbelievable kick that missed by a huge margin.

Is this creature that slow? But it cannot be if the kick was that strong and fast? Even I, the Mighty Chopeck will have to acknowledge that that was quite the kick… but why? He wondered as he hopped back to evaluate his foe.

The creature then seemed to go berserk as it then angrily pulled back its leg, to then smash it backwards onto the ground angrily.

Then it dawned on the Great and Mighty Chopeck that the creature wasn’t just a stupid creature that was attacking blindly, it WAS attacking the ground!

He quickly shot forwards as the creature pulled back from it’s backwards stomp only to smash down with it’s green clad foot onto the floor just towards his left.

You’re trying to make it impossible for me to hop about.. you smart little fledgeling, he thought as he then quickly accelerated again by hopping off the ground beside the impacted ground.

As the dirt and debris seemed to slowly fly about like molasses in the air, as his heightened perception was pushed to the limits with his focus upon the creature’s back foot, he quickly stole a look upwards as he began to spin in the air and readied himself for the kick.

Chopeck was shocked to see that the Tall-Egg-Thief was smiling before it snorted angrily and lifted it’s upper-legs for balance and then braced using the other green-clad leg that was still deep inside the dirt.

Oh you little grub! He thought angrily and with fear as the other legged he had aimed at was now speeding towards him mid-air.

…

Timothy smiled with victorious glee as he then kicked forwards at the Elite which was mid-air.

He had perfectly restricted the avenues of attack from the creature by changing the battlefield. It was a lesson he had learnt from his many defeats against Direclaw who was faster than the creature and always attacked blindingly with his two sparring-blades that occasionally drew blood.

He knew his senior didn’t mean to hurt him so badly most of the time, but they were good lessons.

So it came to him as a great surprise when the Elite that he had carefully baited, flung out its tongue to smack at his acceleration kick that whipped out towards it.

The creature then used the prehensile appendage to push itself backwards and take the brunt of the attack instead of it’s body. But the kick was initiated premature before he could properly hit it, just below his waist instead of a few hand-spans ahead where he intended for his imaginary follow through to be.

He was glad to see the creature flung backwards and stumble with it’s landing, but Timothy knew that he had only one chance to properly land a good attack and set the pace for the fight. Of which he had just failed.

And judging from the way the Elite angrily stood up whilst hissing with malice in it’s eye, he knew he had lost his first strike of opportunity and was going to pay dearly for the mistake.

Timothy also knew that he was now about to get his overdue beating.

But instead of locking up in fear, he unwaveringly challenged the creature with his stare before shouting out, “Glade Sheath!”

His left leg that had previously been bare except for his threadbare shorts was now also covered in his buff as he fully prepared himself for the full assault.

He had never really used the skill in this way in a real fight before, let alone twice in a row.

With the usage of the skill taxing upon his stamina and mana reserves that were dipping dangerously low, but he didn’t care for his health was soon to join them in dipping low anyways.

….

Chopeck was furious!

He was played with! Like a morning grub! The stupid creature had baited him with it’s uncoloured leg… then it had forced him in to attack, by destroying his kingdom and limiting his ways of approaching it to administer his own -not-green- kicks! He angrily hissed as he figured out what had exactly happened to him. But the angry mood quickly passed as he figured out his next moves.

Hiss tongue was now heavily bruised and radiated in a numbingly hot pain, that threatened to overcome his cool and collected composure as well as being useless to him for a while until it recovered.

It was the opposite of his fight with the Stripey-Egg-Thief, where he was the one that played with his opponent.

But even if the thought had angered him, he knew he still had the upper-foot considering he still prevailed over the creature in terms of speed and power.

Who cares if your other leg is now green, he thought with jealousy as the creature screamed unintelligible before coating it’s other limb with its move.

Wait…. I also have my own new moves…

….

The tiny shadow flitted towards it’s adversary which seemed to be a goliath in comparison.

The larger brown youth then screamed out, but not in fear, but to give himself courage and empower his attack as he then smashed downwards before him with a green-buff cladded hoof.

But the Elite was prepared, as it had altered its approaching course with a slight deviation of its trajectory by angling its foot as it hopped slightly towards its own left.

As it flitted through the air, the tiny Elite was then hit with a few clods of Delmar before it sailed over the lip of the third crater that was to the creature’s right.

The Mood then quickly bounced off his landing with another jump immediately as it was on Timothy’s right exposed flank and shot upwards in the air beside the boy.

Timothy who had not expect the creature to dodge his blow by still being able to navigate the broken battlefield so deftly, then reacted by blindly swinging back his right fist like a meaty sledgehammer.

But the Elite was already expecting this and was hoping for the exact reaction, as it was already within his guard and was about to enact its own new skill that had been freshly forged from the previous fight.

The Mood kicked off his backwards swinging elbow mid-air, using it’s left foot as it itself was flying upwards upside-down just above his limb. With power and energy coursing through it’s limb reaffirm that the skill had activated.

Timothy too quickly realised that by dodging his attack and feeling the changed in tempo from the creature that something had happened..

It activated a skill, he thought with dread as his right eye saw the Elite as a spinning blur in the air. For it had somehow magically accelerate faster than the counter-blow kick could have possibly generated.

Then the creature spun furiously before landing a horrific kick with an impact like a large stone on the surface of a still pool, just below his shoulder, that sent an another audible crack through the whole compound.

The watching audience watched in horror even as a murmur of approving hisses and slurps emanated from the watching Combs.

Timothy then bawled out a whinnied scream of pure agony that rung through the whole ranch even as Elite quickly flitted away.

It then simply observed him as it stood a few man-spans away, panting heavily after it’s exertions.

…..

“What the fuck is going on over there?” Lem asked himself even as he gently pulled back another piece of shedded exoskeleton as he gentle helped to coax the young foal out of its old skin.

….

You’re done fledgeling, but it is impressive that you still remain standing after that hit, Chopeck praised his adversary internally whilst emitting a few ragged slurps.

He then watched as the creature screamed with snot and tears falling down it’s pitiful face as it clutched onto its broken upper-legs with its other one.

But then the creature seemed to calm itself down with some coarse breathing through it’s nose as the Danger-Thief seemed to encourage it on with some angry egg-thief speak.

Why don’t you just back down? I’ve got more of your stupid kind to fight you stupid, insolent grub! Chopeck thought angrily with a hiss even as he watched the angry determined gleam of fight come back into the eyes of the Tall-Egg-Thief.

…

“Do not let yourself down! YOU KNOW THAT YOU STILL HAVE FIGHT LEFT IN YOU! FIGHT, THAT IS AN ORDER!” barked Gazelle in what seemed to be anger.

But to Dornmit who had trained under her for nearly two years now, he had never seen her so moved or impassioned by a recruit getting banged up before.

He knew she was trying to help push his friend past the pain and help him.

“Fight Timothy, Fight!” he shouted as he too joined in.

They watched as the tall and lanky boy struggled to keep his pain under control before his shuddering and heavy breathing started to calm down.

Whilst the Deitric Thumpers could only watch in surprised awe as the tall deformed Centaur, seemed to fight through the pain that had knocked out the steel-ranker previously.

“I’ve got *huff* I’ve got it guys,” replied Timothy through clenched teeth before lifting up his left arm and giving them a thumbs up.

“Show me what else you got,” he angrily asked the Elite with his lips bared to expose his large teeth with false bravado. For Timothy knew he had nothing left to give after his arm was horribly broken, but he would be damned if he would give up.

That was when his first buff on his right leg faltered before fading away.

Shit I thought that would’ve lasted a bit longer, he thought before more pain wracked through him but his eyes were still trained on the black figure before him as he raised up his left arm in a boxer’s guard.

…

Chopeck sighed, it always felt dirty to him to put down such a brave and courageous fledgeling.

He had seen a few of his sons with the same unwavering look before, but he still put them to the kick.

For if he did not, then he was simply allowing them to grow and therefore leaving a threat to his own rule over the flock.

But somehow it also made him excited, because these fights with the egg-thieves were so exhilarating. It sparked the fury and passion for the fight that he had long thought was smothered after he had slain his own father to become the ruler of the flock and left with and empty unchallenged throne.

Life had become mundane since then with his fledgeling sons proving to be too weak even before his change, but Chopeck knew that somehow that life wouldn’t be mundane anymore as he rushed in.

There was no need to flit about or to side-step.

He would honour the bravery shown by this Tall-Egg-Thief with a head-on attack.

His jumped upwards to meet the left leg of the creature that rushed forwards to meet him, clad in green, with a kick of his own. His kick was now also empowered in a red glow as he activated another one of his trump cards he had not had to use before.

Chopeck didn’t know the meaning of the word overkill, just that he had to show overwhelming force in the face of this creature’s imposing green kick.

….

“Bastion!” shouted Gazelle as the two kicks collided.

But even with the use of her skill to tank most of the attack for her foster-son which left her left shin smarting, he was still sent rocketing backwards before slamming into the fence.

She sighed with a mixture of warring pride and disappointment as she then watched the boy warily try to get up to restart the fight.

“You’re done,” she barked with furrowed brows at the boy.

“I’ve still… Eurrgargghhh! Huff huff ….. I can do it,” replied Timothy as he tried not the cry from the pain that jolted up from his broken arm.

“You’ve left the circle Tim… you lost. You you’re next!” shouted out Gazelle as she pointed at the large Orcish he/she amongst the new recruits. Watching her foster son lose had left a sour taste in her mouth, which she hoped would be cleansed by getting this oaf beaten up.

But as the reverse-centaur boy looked down and seemed to slump in defeat along with a line of clear snot dripping out his equine nose, Gazelle couldn’t help but throw the boy a bone.

“You did... not bad in there,” spoke the Leonid before turning away to look at the Elite.

Even racked in horrible pain, Timothy still looked up in joy at the praise given.

Whilst behind him a previously worried Dornmit who was about to round the gate to check in on his friend, was rooted to the spot and now stared at his master with his jaw opened wide in shock.

Gazelle had to admit it to herself, that the scrawny boy who first came into her family home as a sickened weak thing that shied away from everything, was starting to shape up into a fine young fighter indeed.

It was good to see some gentle glint or a determined shine to his eye instead of the manic look of fear he constantly had before.

Life can be cruel to people who do not deserve it, she thought to herself as a small eruption of panic ensued from the Deitric Clumpers.

But these little musings was quickly pushed aside as she looked at the angry Elite Chitpulka.

Lem what the Realms did you do to make this creature? She thought in confused amusement.