What does it mean to have truly lived? Is it having strangers speak your name at the dinner table in reverence? Or is it to be a true family man through and through? Raising a family that will be successful and remember you for your strength of character for generations to come? Is there a true, measurable level of success? If not, then what should one hold true to themselves? The ambitions of the self, or the ambitions of the world? All were questions that Ted frequently asked himself, but as he sat there, half asleep on the road of fate, the questions felt more real than ever.
This well-explored train of thought was thwarted by a stray rock that bumped the wagon, and Ted along with it. He groans as he rouses awake from his slump on the uncomfortable wooden bench. He pushed his dark-brown hair, having it restored it to its usual shortened, slid-back look. His eyes open groggily to the sight of his dark green vest, loose fitting cream colored long sleeve shirt, dark-chocolate colored brown slacks, and worn brown boots which his slacks fall over to the ankle. His clothes are nothing fancy but they're well worn and dependable. His body aches as he slowly straightens up, trying his best to shake off the sleepiness from both his mind and body.
As he looked around the wagon, he reassessed the situation. The wagon itself had twelve people in it. Most of them weren't particularly memorable to Ted, as most just had a standard Adventurer gear and wear. Not much in the way of uniqueness, but that really wasn't the priority, he supposed. They were heading to the frontier after all, he'd doubt that anyone would dress up to go into uncharted territory of the Kingdom of Vestia unless they were either ignorant to the danger of the wilderness or strong enough to not give a shit. Even then, it's just more convenient to prepare sensibly. Ted himself was prepared accordingly. His bag, which is stuffed to the gills, is sitting at his feet in between his legs. He also has his weapon of choice, a glaive that is posted hilt to the ground between his legs and laying against his shoulder. The glaive is a weapon with a long staff with an intricate curved blade on the end. His in particular was nothing different from a normal glaive but it's clear that it was both crafted, and maintained incredibly well.
He gazed over the heads of his fellow passengers into the landscape they were traveling through. They were traveling down a dusty dirt road in a thick green forest, ripe for an ambush, though he believed that someone would have to be crazy to ambush a wagon like this. Any wagon that'd be going on this road would be full of experienced Adventurers, and statistics-wise, there had to be at least one on his. He softly smiled and leaned back, excited for the coming journey. After all, that's what he told his parents. Ted had barely turned eighteen before leaving his small hometown, and though it was a difficult job to convince his blacksmith parents, who were far too familiar with the dangers that Adventurers faced, it was a job that he accomplished. He probably would've just snuck out anyways, but having approval from people who knew what the profession entailed did give him a bit of confidence.
Ted closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself, "Yeah, I'll be just fine."
His state of confidence was then brought to close by a wet thunk. Opening his eyes again, he saw the man sitting next to him, one of those aforementioned standard Adventurers, collapse to the floor with an arrow through his head. The large broad-headed thing had entered through the base of the skull and out the eye-socket of the poor man. Ted's eyes widened in sudden shock as he instinctively slid down from the bench and into the floor as well, behind the cover of the wagon walls and immediately grabbing the shaft of his glaive, gripping it tightly and holding it to his chest. The wagon began to slow down as Ted heard a yell and a rough thud from the front of the wagon. Presumably the driver of the wagon, which did not bode well for the rest of this conflict. He quickly sneaked a glance over the wall of the wagon just in time to see an arrow rip past his head and sink into the back of another man who had stood up in panic.
In the tree line of the surrounding forest, he saw seven to eight men armed with bows, along with a couple men that emerged from the brush armed with a small variety of weapons,and that was just on this side. Some with shortswords, others with spears. They were scattered, and seemed to lack proper organization. However despite that, they have set up a half decent ambush and with as few people as the wagon had, that might be enough. He grumbled in slight frustration at the situation. Now, while he'd like to engage the melee bandits in close quarters combat, the support of the bowmen and their apparent accuracy make that difficult without any knowledge of his allies and their abilities. He would likely be killed quickly without any support. He turns his gaze to quickly try and assess how the rest of the wagon is responding.
Most of the passengers seemed frozen in fear, while a couple others did seem a bit more competent. There was a man with glasses, who had some sort of suitcase with him, a light-brown skinned woman with green hair, and a guy that looked more like a grizzled soldier. There were also some others who seemed interesting, for instance, the person in a black cloak. Though, that person didn't seem any less frozen than the rest.
As he was thinking, one of the stronger-looking assailants made their way to the front of the road, and said, "Alright, put your hands up and drop yer things, we don't need to get any more violent then we already have."
The stronger-looking assailant wore some basic padded armor, well-used and well-worn, showing experience. Most of the passengers raised their hands, with only Ted, who was hiding, and that mystery person in the cloak that kept their hands down.
The green-haired woman, who upon standing up, was far taller and built than Ted had predicted, said, "What are you all looking for in particular?"
The stronger-looking assailant, who seemed to be the leader, said, "All things that'll get us top dollar."
The green-haired woman replied, "If you touch my armor, I will have your head."
The leader seemed to be about to reply, when the man with the now meek man with glasses spoke up, "Let's calm down here, we're business people at heart, right?"
The leader groaned, his voice gravely and clearly frustrated at the very existence of a conversation, "Alright, four-eyes, what makes you think that you've got any place in this. Matter of fact, we outnumber you all two-to-one. You should be gracious that I'm even offering a debate."
The man with the glasses shrunk back a bit, but said, "I represent a growing industry in the south, and I think that I can provide much more than some basic gear to you all, but you need to hear me out."
The leader replied, "Then get the rest of your men up. Especially that strange one in the cloak."
The person in the cloak seemed to have realized that they were mentioned, and turned up and drowsily said, "Huh?"
The leader seemed to get a bit frustrated at the length that the situation was lasting, and said, "Yeah, you, the creep in the cloak. If you don't get your ass up, I'll rip it off of you."
The person in the cloak tensed up, and seemed to be preparing to move. The man with the glasses mouthed to the person in the cloak, but the person seemed to pay no mind to him.
The person in the cloak said, "How about I shred that ragged outfit you have on and let you walk the woods naked? After all, it seems you hold no appreciation for the textile arts."
The leader said, impatience filling his voice, "Alright, cut the shit. If you all don't get down here and kneel on the ground, we'll just kill you and make our lives easier. I'm sure my men would prefer it that way anyways."
It seemed to Ted that negotiations had fallen through. Though, at least some people on this wagon had balls enough not to give up their valuables to a bunch of petty thieves. The green-haired giant and that strange guy in the cloak seemed dependable, at least. He sure as hell wasn't gonna go into the frontier, starting his new life broke over this, and while he hadn't killed anyone before, the idea didn't particularly disturb him. No matter what though, no one seemed quite ecstatic to bow before a thug and drop all of their items. While those negotiations on the rest of the men grouped loosely around the leader, in no particular formation. There was the leader, twelve melee combatants, and seven archers from what Ted could assess.
The leader looked around, before he yelled, "Cloth freak! Get yer ass down here!"
The person in the cloak vaulted down, and made his way to the leader. While Ted couldn't tell perfectly, Ted felt like he had a few inches on the person in the cloak, and seemed to be a bit better built as well. The person in the cloak and the leader looked at each other, with the person in the cloak having to look up a fair bit. The leader grinned, before he reached for the cloak. But as he did, he felt a sudden coldness, and as he looked down, he found out why. A sewing needle, easily the size of a shortsword, was buried down to the smaller man's hand into his stomach. The leader, shocked and filled with rage, quickly withdrew his own shortsword. The leader furiously arched his blade downward as the cloaked person stepped back, pulling back the needle and parrying the sword with it.
The moment the two broke into combat, the assailants around them hesitated for but a moment before drawing their own weapons. One of the nearest men to the cloaked person turned and prepared to strike at him, Ted however, was faster. Teds narrowed in absolute focus as he watched, he then reacted immediately when combat broke out, leaping from the wagon without hesitation. Before the bandit with the shortsword could strike at the cloaked person, Ted heaved his glaive while he dived. The pole-arm cut through the air with a deadly force behind it, striking the man square in the middle of his back. The man yelled in unexpected, horrible pain, as his legs turned to lead beneath him helplessly and collapsed. Ted, however, landed on the ground with a thud, as he rolled to distribute the force. He shot up and gripped the pole of the weapon firmly before ripping it from the dying man's spine. He then whirled around, arching his blade in powerful sweeps just to keep the surrounding combatants away long enough for the needle-armed man to hopefully finish off the wounded leader. The leader and the cloaked person traded blows for a moment, but when the leader's shortsword cut a small part of the cloak, the cloaked person grunted. He dove below the leader's blade, and jammed the needle up through the bottom of the leader's head and out the top, with blood and various bodily items pouring out of the entry and exit holes, along with the mouth. The leader fell to the ground, dead.
The forest erupted into combat, as the Adventurers entered the fight. Most of the no-named newbies played defensively, slowly pushing out of the wagon with their mass-produced shields. The grizzled warrior took the man with the glasses and guarded him as they left the wagon. The man with the glasses cowered when a thug slammed a metal bat down, which was deflected by the grizzled warrior's longsword, before he swung around at the thug's neck. The longsword decisively cleaves into the neck of the thug, killing him on the spot. The warrior ripped the blade from the dead man's neck as another thug approached the grizzled warrior, but as the warrior prepared, the thug faced another opponent. The green-haired woman came in, who had a white, short-sleeved tunic, a light chestplate, and a loose-fitting pair of cloth pants that had some plate armor attached to it. She jumped down from the wagon with a large axe drawn, and kicked the thug to the ground, having swung her axe in the process. The axe impacted the skull of the thug and split it into two, with a mix of blood and brain partially shooting out. The green-haired woman then turned to the main battle, and ran into it, immediately starting to engage with the main enemy.
The situation in the main battle wasn't pretty. With the inclusion of the green-haired woman, it was eight people vs sixteen, still two-to-one. The shines of swords and gore of violence decorated the sight of all who engaged in the fight, with the main producers of that being the archers, and the man in the cloak, who seemed to still be riding the high of his last kill. Ted continued his fight, being able to fight at the range best suited for him. Since they were outnumbered, he had to fight multiple assailants at once. Thankfully, however, an open space when using a pole-arm is the best place to have to be fighting multiple assailants.
He struck out in large, smooth sweeps and quick jabs with his glaive, which made the mediocre warriors scared to enter his range. Though, when one would over-commit to an attack, he whirled and cleaved a gash into who got too comfortable in his range, constantly changing the speed and tempo of his attacks to throw them off. His technique spoke to his constant practice with a weapon. He was by no means a master, however, he had grown up practicing with this weapon constantly, more than any other he had ever crafted with his parents. If it was just these guys, this fight would've been a foregone conclusion. However, there was one more danger present. The archers in the back who have retreated to the tree line to pick off the fighting Adventurers.
Whenever Ted would find his rhythm against the thugs swarming him, the archers would time a shot and catch him off guard. He swept his pole-arm behind him to fend off another man who circled around him. However, in his peripheral vision, a dark blur whizzed toward him. He tried to dodge, twisting his body violently, but it was too late. The arrow grazed him, ripping through his side and thudding into the earth behind him. He gasped at the sudden pain and tried to regain his balance desperately. One of the enemy swordsmen capitalized on the situation and moved in, having arched their blade down in a harsh, untrained arch towards Ted's shoulder. Ted gives up on bringing his glaive back up, it'd be too slow. Instead, he lets himself fall to the ground. He braced himself on one hand and threw his leg up in an arching kick. His shin connected harshly with the armed man's head, causing the man to stumble back, falling to the ground unconscious. Ted, breathing now heavy and ragged, regains his balance and readies his glaive once again.
Ted knew this couldn't continue. It was obvious, he couldn't fight safely in these conditions. The next move he made was sure to kill him, and he had no way to fight back. If only he was better equipped. If only he had more time. If only it was different. Ted wanted to live, more than that, he wanted to thrive. But, here he was, seconds away from dying on a dirt road, hundreds of miles from home. This wasn't the way he thought it would go, hell, this couldn't be the way it would go. Ted wasn't meant for this, his aspirations and dreams of success lay on mountains that his opponents knew by name only. If Ted had to fight in two places at once to win, he would. If he had to fix his weapons under enemy fire, he would. If he had to see into the future, he would sure as hell try.
As he propped himself up, with restored confidence, he felt it. His voice shone out, responding to the very nature of his request. The ambition going onto pride, the fate that Ted desired, it would be his. That message is what changed Ted's fate, and his voice came out.
His vision doubled.