A bearded man with long black hair looked out across the long stream. He scratched his tanned face - had had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes, he was informed that there was some action and indeed loot to be found. The scenery was enough to keep him there, however, the light forest boasting long, eloquant trees, with expansive canopies that almost touched across the brook. Water cascaded down rocks and splashed into longer, uninterupted straights. The sun gleamed and glinted of the clear liquid, reminding all that it was, indeed, day.

The fellow sat upon a rock, a grey and hitherto cold rock, however that changed after he sat on it for a while. It was the least moist of all the rocks to choose from. Beside it sat a long, broa claymore, a blade requiring both hands to mand, with an elaborate golden handle. Beside it lay a bag, a messenger-sort, that could be hung around the shoulder, generally concealed under the jacket. Poking out of it was some form of scroll, a spell, and if examined, had a blue cross upon it - a minor healing spell.

He was new in the adventuring game, however, was an old retired pirate, and held much experince in the way of battle, however, some bandits had stolen his loot, and it was in his mind to get it back! The dirty thieves that had stolen his treasure from a ported ship were said to be camped around here, and a long dug tunnel in the side of a rock held their booty. He intended to make that his owbn though, unbeknown to him, it was simply a tavern-legend. Desperate, though he was.

He scratched his head, and looked up at the rolling clouds, trees scraping their path as it seemed. As he gazed at the sky, however, a fur-clad fellow in a wooden helmet crept up behind, a knife ready. Others of similar garbing, and of different sizes and races, were hiding behind trees and bushes. Must have been six of them, and they were obviously inept bandits.

Some seconds later, when the creeping bandit was but a few centimeters away from our ex-pirate warrior here..

'RAAAAAAAUGH!' He scramed, and other violent warcrys followed, screeching through the silence of the meadow. The others had abandoned their hiding positions, and ran, swords, knives and maces blazing in the air.

The pirate, however, was used to this sort of thing - why, childsplay! He grabbed the hand that had by now slithered its way up his throat, grasping a knife, ready for the obvious. With a swift butt from the back of his head, the bandit was on the ground, and a stamp from a steel-capped boot, no bandit was concious over there.

Turning swiftly and leaping off the rock, the pirate used the same boot to land on a hard-boiled, angry looking man, which knocked him back not. With a grab to the leg, and a heave-haul, the pirate was floored.

'Damn you!' He shouted, glancing up at his weapon. A large mace, probably the size of his head, was dangling in the air, cutting the once pieceful ideology of looking up at the sky. The pirate rolled to the side desperatly, and just in time to avoid the spiney object from smashing things. It crashed to the ground, causing a minor earthquake apperance as some of it split away, getting it lodged in the ground.

However, the pirate was not yet victorious. As he backed away, laughing at the large man, he stumbled into a lizard, a tall one, who didn't flinch. He pushed him forward heavily, however before he could go without reach, the bandit grabbed the collar of his sea-stained shirt, and punched him hard in the stomach, leaning over him. The pirate let out most of his air, and fell on the ground exaused.

Not finished yet, however! He got up swiftly, within seconds of regaining himself, and hit his head hard, intentionally, between the lizard fellows legs. With a serpantile scream, the beast was done. It fell over, grasping at his groin.

The pirate grinned devilishly at the larger man, and rushed forward, 'Rrrrr'ing as he did so. Punches to the large brute's stomach, one, two, three four, strong, accurate, he had no choice but to stumble back. Without a weapon, he wasn't so tough! As he stumbled, he fell over a rock, and into the stream. Three down? Indeed.

The pirate ran for his weapon, quickly, in an attempt to avoid getting caught up with, but it was no good, one of the men had some daggers that were easily thrown, and done so it was. It hit his claymore hard, and it fell away into some bushes.

'Ahh fer fu-' He shouted, but was silenced in the need to catch a dagger coming at him quick. Two inches from his face, the pirate felt very pleased with himself, and chucked it back. Another bandit down, and a devilish laugh. And, of course, a grab of a sword.

It was show time!