Author's Note “*....*” Ancient Greek.
Xander was getting frustrated. After washing up on shore, it hadn't taken him too long to figure out that he had not made it back to his world, or even his century. The distinct lack of pollution was one sign, but the far more obvious sign was in ancient Greek, pointing down a well-used path, towards some place called ' Chaeronae.' Who said all those hours spent in the library, poring over old musty texts would have no practical value or application? It had already served him well enough to let him know that he was completely and utterly...lost.
With nothing better to do until his power recharged enough to move on, Xander decided to travel, and get the lay of the land. Ancient Greece had always seemed interesting, and if he were to acquire a few 'antiques,' he might be able to build up a nest egg for later. After all, it wouldn't be fraud in any sense of the word; any items he gathered would be from ancient Greece, and purchased for a fair market price.
Less than a day had passed before his luck had caught up with him. A bush to the side of the road rustled loudly, discharging a rather ragged and dirty man, wielding a knife. Waving the knife in Xander's direction, the man spat out a few harsh-sounding phrases, in ancient Greek.
A thief, most likely, Xander mused. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't take any other action. This seemed to infuriate the man even more, who repeated his earlier demand. Amongst the unintelligible words that most likely now included a few choice insults against his intelligence, Xander recognized the words for 'money,' and 'horrible death.''
“So, I'm walking, and you think I actually have money?” Laughing, Xander didn't bother to attempt his admittedly pitiful knowledge of the local language. He gestured the man away with shooing motions.
The bandit, now utterly enraged, advanced, knife slashing wildly. To the man's shock, he connected with nothing but water. A typhoon appeared out of nowhere the instant he stepped forward, protecting the seemingly harmless foreigner. A foreigner who was looking decidedly more foreign by the second. Eyes glowing, hair blowing in an unfelt breeze, the man he had attempted to rob now hovered in midair, a terrible sight to behold.
“I was going to spare your life,” Xander regarded the man sadly, “But you have proven yourself far too dangerous to spare. Pray that the end comes quickly, unlike your previous victims. For Justice!” He swept his hand downwards, bringing the column of water down on the bandit's head like a ton of bricks, knocking him insensate. “Now for the final touch!” He left his trademark symbol of justice in the air for a moment before letting it too crash down. “Hmmm...it would probably have a bit more effect if I write it in the local language, instead of Japanese. Oh well, maybe next time.”
* * * * * * *
Several days had passed, and Xander found himself growing frustrated. There seemed to be no end to the line of bandits out to attack him. Despite the number of bandits he left all washed up, none seemed to be getting the message, even with the effort he had been taking to write his warning in Greek. But really, while a single traveler might usually be easier to take on, he certainly didn't look like he had money. He even changed directions, traveling off the path to go around the bandits, but to no avail. It was as if they sought him out specifically. Perhaps it was a curse. At least the bandits were fairly easy to deal with; having spent his nights fighting monsters, a few humans weren't much of a challenge. None of them were dangerous enough to require Morgif's assistance.
It was on the fifteenth day of his stint in Greece that things changed. Hoofbeats echoed down the path, so Xander promptly stepped off into the bushes. Horses had come to mean heavily armed bandits, or military scouting parties, either of which was seriously irritating to deal with.
To his surprise, the two riders were female, one a dreamy-looking blond with a staff, and the other an older brunette. While the blond chattered, the brunette's eyes constantly scanned their surroundings. While he wouldn't dismiss the blond out of hand, knowing and often fearing women as he did, the brunette was clearly the warrior of the two. He held his breath and tried to remain motionless.
Not quite to his surprise, the brunette suddenly reigned in her horse. The blond was quick to follow, instantly silencing. The brunette called out a question, but Xander remained silent. One hand drifted down to her hip, removing a curiously-shaped metal ring. Glancing to the left and right, she hurled the ring...away from Xander's hiding spot.
Xander quickly stifled a sigh of relief. Even if the two weren't bandits, he did not want to become involved with such a dangerous looking pair. Just then, he heard a clanging noise, as the ring bounced off a rock and rebounded...straight towards him. Quick reflexes were the only thing that saved him from a rather intense headache, or possibly worse. The brunette raised a hand, catching her ring with the ease of long practice.
“Hey! Watch where you are throwing that thing! Oh, great, you don't understand me. Uh *Anger! Not good kill innocent.* I wish my Greek was better.” He raised a few typhoons, keeping his sword sheathed for the time being. No sense in escalating things.
The two women exchanged a glance, then drew their weapons, kicking their horses into a gallop. From the looks on their faces, any chance at negotiation was over.
The first typhoon hit the blond, sweeping her off her horse and dashing her to the ground. Riderless, the horse crashed off into the underbrush. The second and third typhoons, aimed at the older warrior, proved less effective. The brunette steered her horse between the typhoons with knees only, leaving her hands free to wield a sword and her ring weapon. With a wild cry somewhat reminiscent of Tarzan, she charged.
His primary defense proving somewhat limited when presented with a trained opponent, Xander drew Morgif. Upon seeing his opponent, Morgif's eyes bugged out, and he began wolf whistling. If anything, that seemed to further enrage the warrior woman, who hurled her ring straight at him.
Morgif swung himself towards the ring, striking it out of midair. Two halves fell, cut cleanly through. Then, he turned teary eyes towards the (well-endowed) woman who had just broken his heart. He moaned and growled, edge flashing white. Realizing what he meant to do, Xander shouted, “Morgif! No!” but he was too late. White energy blasted out the tip of the sword, hitting his opponent square in the chest and blasting her out of the saddle. The woman hit the ground with a sickening thud and lay still.
Approaching carefully, Xander checked her pulse and sighed. Despite being out cold with her armor visibly smoking, the woman should live. He glanced over at her companion, lying half conscious nearby. The girl asked a question, sounding curious, but all he could understand was “*...not kill...?*”
The woods were eerily silent for a moment. Xander shrugged, and as he turned to leave, he called out over his shoulder “*not a bandit.*”