As the sun’s bottom tip touched the horizon, an incredible pair entered Heneseys. They were clothed in a pure white that glowed in the evening twilight. One was dressed lightly, with nothing more than few pieces of bleached leather covering his shirt and pants. The other bore what looked like an impossible amount of steel armor that shimmered with the slightest movement. On the first’s back was an ivory bow that looked as if it was worth a small village’s fortune. Strapped to the second’s waist was a long, curving sword, sheathed in a material that looked like bone. Most notably, an emblem consisting of an owl and rose could be seen on all of their possessions. The pair was truly a magnificent sight.

As they sun continued to set, they took a sudden turn off the main street, and into a poorer district. They continued to walk as the world around them grew darker and darker, their destination unknown. Suddenly as the last bit of light disappeared on the horizon, the bowman bumped into one of the many street urchins. Before the little scamp got any further, the man grabbed him on the shoulder and spun him around, “Hey, you little brat! Don’t think I didn’t feel that!”

Fear of discovery momentarily appeared on the boy’s face before quickly being replaced by stubborn defiance. He shook the hand away and, with a grin, dashed away as he waved a pouch full of gold above his head. The bowman stood there for a moment, surprised that the boy would challenge them, especially seeing as how they were easily identifiable. “Come on,” he said to his accomplice, “We’re going after him.” The warrior nodded, and they were off.

“The kid’s fast,” the archer thought aloud through breaths. The chase had taken them deep into this poverty-stricken area. They had passed through countless alleys and it seemed as if they were moving in circles. His companion had long ago lost track of them. Finally, he decided to try something. He leapt into the air with all his might, rebounded off a wall, and caught the roof of the closest building with an outstretched hand. He quickly pulled himself up and located the boy a few hundred feet ahead turning into yet another side alley. From above, he watched as the boy slowly became more confident that he was alone. Finally, he began to slow down until stopped next to a worn down house in bad need of repair. He looked around carefully, the bowman having fallen flat against the roof he was currently situated on, and snuck into a hole in the side of the wall.

With a triumphant smile, the bowman slid off the roof and descended to the ground. With a moderate amount of stealth, the bowman walked to the house’s front and examined the only door of the house. It was barred with pieces of wood that looked much younger than the house it self. He had to give that brat credit, he’d set up a pretty secure place for himself. He whistled softly as his companion finally caught up. “Vincent,” he asked leisurely, “mind breaking down the door?”

The warrior nodded, pulled his arm back, and with a single, vicious punch, turned the door into splinters. As the dust cleared, the pair froze, surprised by the scene they found. The boy was indeed inside, but instead of hiding in a far off corner or anything of the sort, he stood resolutely, arms extended horizontally and legs planted firmly, in front of five young children, none of which older than five. The children either cried or looked on fearfully at the awesome sight in front of them. The boy reached down into a pile of junk and, to the pair’s even greater surprise, pulled out a rusty sword.

The boy held the sword awkwardly, but with absolute intent to kill. Finally, the bowman came to a decision. With a smirk, he sighed, “My, my, boy. You’re in quite a predicament. Your goals are obviously admirable, protecting these children, but your actions were wrong. Give us back the money and we will leave you unharmed.”

The boy shook his head fiercely and, for the first time since their encounter, spoke. “We need food and without this money…” The boy tensed, “We’ll all die!” In a flash, the boy shot forward at a speed impossible for one holding something so unwieldy. The bowman barely managed to unlatch his bow by the time the boy was upon him. The boy swung down, but his lack of strength made the action slow and the bowman easily knocked the sword aside. The impression had been made, though. The mouths of both men hung wide open: this was no ordinary boy.

I may play as a sin in MS and favor them in the game, but my true heart lies with blurring speed and blinding dagger attacks. I’m a rogue at heart and it’s not my fault if MS had to take away the things I love about them. I think I can get much more into this story simply because I love the boy’s type more than any other style. I’m looking forward to writing more. As usual, click the button and comment pl0x.