(closed starter for @nithhaiahh)
Gentle chatter filled the streets of Lancaster as the citizens went about their day. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafted from the local bakery, a few of their products showing in the glass windows off of the square, many of the locals munching on their baked good as they perused the stalls. The town square was a popular hub for impromptu stores, temporary booths and rugs set up by locals to sell produce, artisanal goods, and other such wares. Laughter and gossip carried on the early autumn breeze, many of the citizens discussing how they were preparing for winter.
Moving through the crowd was a taller man with short black hair, worn clothing that might have once been expensive, and a curious expression upon his face. He navigated the various booths in the town square with a watchful eye, always on the lookout for oddities and trinkets he wouldn’t find back home. Jericho hadn’t even finished the danish he’d purchased from the bakery before it was knocked out of his hand, a man in cheap armor tearing through the streets haphazardly with an expression like he’d just seen a ghost. It was then that Jericho heard it.
It wasn’t far off. Jericho had spent years in the military, he knew the sound of desperation, and he could see a tree in the distance topple over as a creature’s form began to become visible - even from the heart of the town. An ettin. A twin-headed giant with a penchant for kidnapping livestock. It was at least 15 feet tall, but Jericho couldn’t rightly tell from this distance. And, judging by the sound of the local guards’ terror, the ettin wasn’t here for a simple smash and grab.
The sorcerous blood in his veins began to rush through as his heartbeat accelerated in tune with his footsteps. Instinctually, he’d ran towards the chaos instead of away. Lancaster was a smaller town. It had stretches of rugged farmland surrounding it, and the security here was haphazard at best. Judging by the soldier who ruined his breakfast pastry, as well as the screams, these ‘guards’ needed all the backup they could get. A silver lining was that Jericho now had a target to test his magic on.
The sorcerer arrived to a scene of carnage. Two guards were clearly dead, bodies splayed out on the ground at unnatural angles, partially caved in by the giant’s club. Three more injured guards were doing their best to distract it as perfectly healthy ones with shaking hands struggled to reload their crossbows. As if the bolts would do much to slow down such a creature. Jericho pulled on the magic in his veins, feeling a faint tie to the moon even in the middle of the day. He held a hand to the sky. Silver wisps of light spun around his outstretched hand, and, when he pulled it down in a fist, a beam of silver-blue radiance fell from the sky upon the ettin. It’s roar of pain and surprise shook the earth, skin blistering under the column of moonlight.
“Keep your shields up and form a line!” Jericho shouted, “Share the blow unless you want to end up like those two!”
It had been some time since he’d last commanded on the battlefield, but once a soldier, always a soldier. He just hoped his magic would hold out, because the ettin looked more angry then injured by his sudden interference.
