• Prelude
    It was a normal day for a high school kid of about the age of sixteen…or was it?
    ‘Not again’ he thought as he ran down the road. He wasn’t afraid to fight, or incapable. He was about five nine and a half, with blonde hair chopped off short. His body rippled with muscle, and his green eyes shown with bottomless passion. He was usually prone to fighting, but recently he was on his last straw with the orphanage. His parents had left him on its door step fifteen years ago now. Every day he would fight, just to keep his footing, to prove to no one imperticular that he could. All this kept him under constant surveillance by the school and orphanage. His name was Shaun, and he mostly kept to himself but when other teens picked on him, it sent something off inside of him that he could almost not control. Nobody would adopt him as a child because he was constantly fighting with all of the other kids.

    From the day he turned fifteen he started to count down the days until he turned eighteen, wanting nothing more than to get out of his currant home. As any one could guess this put him on not the greatest terms with the orphanage. He had no friends and sat alone at lunch. One week ago, he was sitting at lunch when a group of teens came to sit with him. Usually they would pick on him and pass but…. Great Shaun thought as he looked down at his school lunch, it was mystery meat again, and what they put in it really was a mystery to, even to the lunch ladies that cooked it. He chose his normal table and sat down to eat his “meal” when they started in. “Oh look, it’s the creep!” he heard a voice say. It was half the football team, joy. He watched as they climbed clumsily into the chairs around his table no wonder we always lose Shaun thought quietly to himself “so what’s our favorite little orphan up to today?” asked the teen sitting straight across from him.

    Shaun said nothing, and the boy to his immediate right said “Hey! He’s talking to you!”
    “Calm down clay.” Said the boy across from him again, “his daddy probably forgot to teach him manners” that was enough to get Shaun up, he’d been taking crap from these six for weeks, he stood up fiercely, planning to just leave when the boy said “ I think you should stay for lunch, its probably better than what your little basterd shack is serving for dinner tonight” as the word ‘night’ left his mouth Shaun was over the table on top of him, the captain of the football team, this Isn’t going to turn out well Shaun had time to think, Shaun began to swing on the foot ball player, letting his hands convey his anger for him. Feeling the boys teeth chip, and his warm blood flow over his hands, from a dazed state Shaun could hear the distant chanting of the students “fight fight fight” as the teachers struggled to get past the ring of students. he felt a hand on his shoulder, suddenly remembering the other boys. He spun picking up a chair in his path; he smashed the boy in his face with enough force to separate the chair from its frame. With some difficulty, the cops managed to break through the circle of enflamed students that had broken into cheers over the currant fight. The first taser struck him in the leg, the feeling of being struck by lightning ran through him and he drooped to his knees he managed to tear out the barbed prongs by rolling across the floor. Shaun rose and flew at the cop hitting him like a train, an onslaught of relentless tasers plowed into him... Everything went black.

    Over months of court it was judged that he would be put on probation. He was to check in with his P.O. every day. Shaun was on his third strike and he knew it. So did the football team. School was out for the day and Shaun was about to go check in with his P.O. Shaun had started taking a new rout home so that he could pass his P.O. on the way home, joy. He was staring at the ground walking with his head down and something shinny caught his eye. There was a small dagger just thrown carelessly into the ditch, well Shaun thought if I just leave it there some kid could get hurt. But deep down he knew that he just wanted it. He knew that it would probly not be a good idea to take a knife into his Po’s office. After a minute of debating this with himself he decided to take the knife, stowing it away deeply in his back-pack. Shaun slipped out of the ditch, looking to see if anyone had seen him. He looked over to his right and saw one of the boys he had beat up coming towards him. A coincidence Shaun thought and turned to find yet another of the boys coming from the other side. Shaun ran down the only empty street trying to avoid a fight, he heard a rumbling and turned to look down the ally and saw a truck barreling towards him.

    His Po’s office was in sight all he had to do was run and he would be safe from another court case probly ending in jail this time. The truck accelerated as he took off running. It was coming to fast, Shaun tried to jump out of the way, but the truck swerved in just enough time to hit him in full force. First there was a blinding light…….. Then the pain………Then darkness………………………………….
    Shaun was falling for what seemed like hours out of control and nauseating. There was no sound but that of the wind hitting his face. “Water” Shaun said to the blackness in a hoarse voice. A cool sensation washed through his throat, then nothing for hours at a time. A slit of light, Shaun opened his eyes slowly fearing the worst and saw a strange little shack in front of him to dirty to be heaven he thought at first then thought he had been kidnapped. He sat up slowly and looked around for his back pack it was still on his back, and when he stood up, he almost fell over again. The backpack had nearly tripled in weight.

    Shaun slid the backpack off his shoulders carefully not to make a noise to his utter amazement, almost disbelief; the little dagger he had picked up was now an overly large broad sword, erupting from the side of the backpack. He removed the sword, awestruck at its amazing size and weight. It was old and dull like it had had many years of hard use, but never anybody to take care of it. He grasped the sword and walked slowly to the door with hopes that he would not have to use it. He felt a warm trickle run down his face. Shaun lifted his hand to examine his wound and withdrew it covered in blood he grabbed a nearby cloth and pressed it to the wound.

    Shaun found a mirror and gazed at his busted and broken face. For the first time Shaun realized that he was not alone in the room. An older man of about fifty was standing in the doorway watching him. Shaun swung the sword as if it were a base ball bat, aiming for the man’s head, the man jumped landing with one foot gracefully on the end of Shaun’s sword. With the other foot the man kicked Shaun’s hand making him drop his sword to the ground. With a quick sweep he drew his slim sword, and in a matter of moments it was at Shaun’s neck “I am not here to hurt you” the man said calmly “if anything, I’m here to help you”.
    “You kidnapped me”, Shaun said weakly
    “oh did I now?” the old man questioned with a kind smile on his face “then it must not have been me who found you bleeding to death in the forest, it was not I who poured water down your throat when you cried out in your sleep, it was not me who let you rest in my bed, I must have just imagined it all”
    “I.. Uh ... You…” Shaun babbled trying to make an argument but he just slumped foreword and gave up and thought ‘well this explains a lot’
    “rest now you are still to hurt” the old man said to this Shaun gave no objection and fell to the calm lands of his dreams.

    In and out of consciousness he swam, the dark waters of wonder rolling freely over him. In the time that he was awake, Shaun remembered little, the old man pouring water down his throat, and the smell of air fresher than any he had breathed before. More light this time, it seemed to steady from its shaking a bit and grow into focus. His sword lie against an opposite wall, covered in a swatch of thick leather. Directly to his left, a cloth lye bloody and discarded. So the old man patched me up he thought touching his head softly. To his surprise, a point of white hot burned where his finger tip lightly brushed his skin, almost causing him to pass out again.

    He stumbled to the bathroom, where he got a cool drink of water and noticed the first odd thing. The old man did not have electricity. Walking from the house, slowly as to not upset his head, Shaun began to seek out the old man. Almost ten minutes of slow walk took Shaun to a well, where the old man patiently lay brick, to hold the water. Neither of them said anything as Shaun watched the old man work. For hours he sat in silence, until the old man stopped and said, “I may still be able to help you”
    “With?” Shaun replied
    “You are not in your time, young man”
    “What do you mean?”
    “What do you see strange about me?”
    “Well… you dress funny”
    “You have no electricity”
    “No elk-What?... No matter, the point is, I believe you are from the future”
    “What year is it?”
    “100 A/D”

    Shaun stumbled backwards, tripping over a brick and falling to his hands and knees. 100 A/D? What was he going to do? His friends… Wait, he had no friends, this was an opportunity to spend his life in near pre history days, and no way was he passing that up. And that sword… After a minute he rose from his knees, and looked the old man in the eye, “what if I don’t want to go back?”
    Over the next few days of Shaun's healing, the old man explained the ways of the old to him. Since he had accepted the mans help (willingly or not) he agreed to work off what he had used. In turn the old man agreed to let him stay there. The nights were long and lazy, and the days, short and hot. Working for the old man turned out to be a lot more than Shaun had first assumed. At the end of an especially long day, his life was about to change.
    “The well is tapped old man” Shaun said, dripping his way to the sitting area.”Good…” he replied solemnly.
    “What is it?”
    “They are coming for me, and I am to die”
    “Who is coming for you?! Why must you die?”
    “Sleep now” and with that knocked Shaun out with the butt of his sword, a movement to quick for him to expect. And for the third time in three years, Shaun was unconscious.

    Shaun awoke to find himself in a dark hole, with his sword lain across him. It was cold enough to be night and he knew that he had to find the old man. It had to be a last resort to go busting into the manner swinging his sword, but it seemed his only choice. All summer the sword had not been touched, and he doubted that in its current state it would even break skin … even if he knew how to use it.

    The top of his hole was covered with what appeared to be his bed covering and a fine layer of dirt. Sounds were coming from the direction he thought was the house. Springing out of his hole, he grabbed his sword and ran as silently and as quickly to the house as he knew how. Through the trees and darkness he slipped until he was within seeing distance from the house.

    The walls were covered in blood and sinew, as parts of the old man lie helplessly about. Whatever had come after him came fast, and hard. The old mans sword lie in his hand, across the room. Shaun picked up the old mans sword, slowly wiping the blood from it and pushed it through his belt. The old man was dead. All that was left for him now was a scroll, lying covered in new ink and fresh blood. There was blood every where. Shaun began to read the scroll.

    …. To you….found.. ut….that….arants…re...ot……ead.
    …..ame….was found…ur….word…..oves…it
    Do not lose hope.

    The blood covering the page made it mostly useless; the only other eligible writing on it was an address, and a name. Removing his pack from under a pile of rubble, Shaun began to pack food and other provisions into it, food, water, the old mans money, and a flint and steel. Shaun soaked the man as well as the shack down with lamp oil, and threw a torch unto the dead mans lap. “Rest in peace old man” Shaun said aloud, giving the old man his final good byes. “Live not free, the warrior scorned, in peace you remain, as vengeance I do seek”. He started his journey on foot, not knowing where it would take him, but also not fearing. He had once again become free; his only concerns now were where he was going to learn how to use his sword, and how he was going to get there.