A naked man sprinted through the woods. If he had a heart it would have been pounding by now. His head seemed to pound though, and his synthetic muscles burned despite themselves. His vision (for what it was worth) seemed to be nonexistent as well. It might have been due to the pitch black out, or it could have been that he could barely keep his eyes open. All the same he kept running. His feet touched grass, trampled mud and marsh water before he slowed down. He tripped mid stride and landed flat on his face. After that there was nothing. Just silence.

The whistling disturbed his moment of nothingness. Sharp piercing noise seemed like it was playing from right inside his head. It was worse than a nail on glass. The noise softened after a moment, then morphed into a tune. The sound of steps followed afterwards. A pair of feet sauntered up to him...then nothing again.

The man jolted awake. He took a few panicked breaths as he tried to get his bearings.

He reached around for several seconds before he felt a bare arm next to him. He seemed to relax at that.

"Cass...is that you?"

"There there now." an unfamiliar voice replied. "Just relax, you've been passed out for the better part of a day now."

"Argh...Christ." he mumbled. "I get the feeling you just saved my ass."

"Think nothing of it. Besides t'wasnt me who brought you here."

"Doesn't matter." replied the man. "I'll pay you back as soon as I'm up."

"Well, I'd take it easy if I were you. You've been in a well and deep sleep." said the voice.

"Yeah...I had the strangest dreams. I got kidnapped by a wizard...then tortured in a tower."

There was a light giggle before the voice commented on that.

"Well you're safe and sound now, back in good old Oreton."

The nude man finally opened his eyes at that. He looked over to see an older looking woman sitting beside him. She responded to his shocked stare with a coy grin. His eyes quickly darted around the room. He seemed to be in some kind of shack. The room smelled like wet wood...and rotten bread.

"I should probably be getting up." hurriedly mumbled the man. He slid off of the saggy wool mattress before searching around for his clothes. The woman didn't need to think hard about what he was looking for.

"When your friend brought you here y'had no clothes to speak of."

The man just rubbed his eyes at the news. He could only think of one word for the situation. "Perfect...just perfect."

"What's you name sir." inquired the woman.

The man in turn slowly looked over at her. "Timothy." he replied.

"Just Timothy?"

Timothy gave her an odd look before replying. "Kot. Timothy Kot."

"Well then Timothy Kot, your friend left a sack of apples behind and asked me to keep an eye on you until you woke up."

Timothy Kot took his time before replying. He looked around again, before glancing down at his left wrist. There wasn't anything there besides a tan line. He almost grimaced at the sight of it. He looked up again and posed another question.

"I don't remember coming here. Who's the friend you're talking about?"

This time the woman gave him her own odd look.

"He didn't leave a name...funny, I never thought to ask."

She hesitated a second, almost as if she was mulling something over before speaking again. "He told me to let you'know that he'd be waiting for you once you awoke."

Timothy raised an eyebrow at the statement but didn't interrupt.

"He said that you were'to meet him at t'inn at the crossroads...as soon as you'could."

Timothy looked her, then at his wrist again. Not much registered on his face, but it didn't take a genius to tell that he was quietly trying not to start shouting his head off.

"My name's Lucy...if you were ponder'n it...and I have some clothes for ye sir."

Tim snapped out of the funk he was in and greeted that comment with a smile. He sensed that she had been instructed to offer him a bed and something to wear, but all the same the gesture was appreciated.

"Thank you Lucy."

It took several minutes of fiddling around before he figured out how to properly put on the moth-eaten clothes he'd been given. The whole getup seemed more than a little medieval to Tim. A set of scratchy wool pants (lacking underwear) along with a undershirt of the same material. A pair of clogs which happened to be a few sizes too small rested beside Tim as well. He quickly decided that he wouldn't have worn them even if they had fit.
By the time he felt that he was finished Timothy began to feel lightheaded. There was something off about the air. It was almost as if there was just to much of it. It was at this time that Timothy realized that he hadn't stepped outside since he arrived here. In fact he hadn't had a chance to observe the world since his arrival. He had been locked in a cell for several days, then had somehow woken up on some ramshackle operating table being sliced open by some witch. He recalled knocking her lights out before scrambling out her window, not bothering to see weather or not he had killed her. There had been some running after that, but he hadn't seen anything. Just darkness and muted shapes. After that there had been a fall...then whistling. Someone had come and rescued him. The "friend" that Lucy had spoken of.
And now there is here...another dark room. This time though...the door is right beside me.
Timothy made his way over slowly. Waiting to see if something would happen. Waiting to be knocked out and dragged away again. He came to the door, and hesitantly began to push it open.

Many years ago, in a land distant in every definition of the word a package courier made a journey much like this. He had almost died. Almost returned to the dirt, but he instead survived and made his way back into the sunlight. He could never forget a deep sense of relief, of happiness even thankfulness to a god that he certainly didn't bother believing in. He tasted life again just after he had lost it. He never expected to feel anything similar to that again. No matter what he suffered or survived, there was nothing that would ever be the same.

He was right.

The moment he took his first breath, he was already overwhelmed. He could smell it, and taste it. There was life in the air.

Plants, water, food, rot, people, animals. The smells filled his nose, mouth and lungs.

It wasn't just the smells. It was the air as well. It was thicker and almost richer than anything he'd ever felt before. The modified lungs in Timothy's chest had been created specifically to suck more oxygen from his world's depleted atmosphere. They (and by extension he) were suddenly overwhelmed by what they were inhaling.
All the modifications, all the implants and even some of the mutations Timothy had acquired (forcibly or not) had optimized his ability to survive on a planet with most of it's ecosystem destroyed. Timothy's body had never experienced anything such as this. In the depths of his mind it was terrifying and confusing. Yet one part of him, perhaps the same part that appreciated the sun over Goodsprings now beamed. And such as it was the first time, for just a few seconds, Courier 6 couldn't utter a single word.

Lucy watched her guest stare off into the trees. He hadn't moved for a solid minute since he stepped outside. His eyes on the other hand seemed to dance over anything and everything they could rotate towards. Lucy (who had a self proclaimed good instinct for people) got the impression that this man hadn't been outside in quite a while. She was happy for him, and happier that she now had a few weeks worth of food from his odd friend. The sound of squeaking wheels brought her back to reality. She looked over to see Franz (the young man who'd gone to work over at Crow's Perch) riding his way into town. Lucy knew that she'd have to hide her apples quickly. The baron sent his men to take tithes from any and all settlements in Velen so he could feed his garrison. Franz had been sent to lead the wagon to Oreton since he was from there, and (hopefully) would evoke the most peaceful response from the locals.
One of the baron's men, a middle aged man named Cedric was sitting beside Franz on the wagon. Several others from the Barron's garrison followed along with the cart, some riding while others walked.
There were about eleven men in all heading their way. In other words, ten cutthroats with badges. Lucy hoped that they would just take what they saw and not go routing around through their homes again. The last time that had happened three older men had died, and some young girl named Olena had been hauled off with the food.
Lucy looked over at Timothy and realized that he hadn't moved. She looked back to Cedric and the soldiers and knew she had to move her visitor fast. Many young (or at least healthy men) had been conscripted to defend or maintain the Barron's fortress. Timothy certainly seemed healthy, and none to old. The last thing she needed was him getting hauled off before he made it to the inn. She didn't quite know why, but she was sure that she didn't want to keep the stranger who'd brought him waiting.
Lucy quickly headed towards Timothy, she had to shove him inside before it was to late.
Lucy winced at the sound of Franz calling out. Her moment of panic subsided when she realized that he was calling for the village headman. She quickly made it up to Timothy and began to shake him out of his stupor.

"Get inside sir!" she hissed. "Quickly before they see ye!"

Timothy immediately stared down at Lucy, before looking over towards the band of armed men heading towards the village. He wasn't sure he what exactly he was seeing. Large men in gambesons were marching his way. None of them had any guns. Most just had halberds, or swords. Beside them was something equally as odd. A pair of oxen. Timothy had been under the impression that they had all died out centuries ago. Most back animals had been replaced by brahmin. Only a few real cows are left, but only filthy rich Brahim Barrons had them...
Timothy's mind had begun to wander, despite the calls to hide by Lucy. The one thing that halted his line of thought was a small observation he made.

Those men with weapons are starting to spread out...

A shrill scream suddenly caught both Tim and Lucy's attention. Both looked over to see that one of the Baron's men had just plunged the tip of their halberd into the headman's stomach. The headman in turn had done his part by screaming hoarsely, before falling backwards as the halberd was jerked out of him.
In a flash the Barron's men roared and charged forward, swinging their weapons wildly. Even Cedric himself drew a sword and hopped off of the wagon.
In a flash many of the villagers fled for their lives. They'd just seen their headman murdered, and the howling men charging armed at them were as horrifying as they could be. Lucy suddenly turned and ran as well. She didn't bother trying to grab Timothy. She just had to run. Run far and fast without thinking, as instinct dictated.
Timothy on the other hand didn't move a muscle. He just watched a particularly young looking man charge at him with a sword drawn.
The young man in turn b-lined straight for the stationary fool in front of him. Three steps away from Timothy he raised his sword then gave a triumphant howl as he brought it down.
The young man sensed there was a problem the moment his feet left the ground. Timothy had ducked down and used the young man's momentum to flip him over his shoulder. As the lad landed hard on his back Timothy spun around, kicked him much harder in the side of the head before prying the sword from a twitching hand.
An older man swinging a halberd turned around to see the debacle. In a flash he sprinted to his friend's defense. He hacked down at Timothy, hoping to cleave the stranger's head open. Instead Timothy merely sidestepped the sloppy swing, before spinning around. Tim took three careful steps back and watched as his attacker jerked around to look at him. Timothy gave him an ugly grin, and the man (predictably) went wild. He rushed forward again (without raising the halberd) and yelled as he did so. This time Timothy didn't leap around. Instead he slapped the halberd away with the side of his new sword, before stabbing forwards.
A strange noise suddenly cut the air. The only person that heard it was the man who'd just dropped his halberd. He felt somethings warm begin to flow down his neck. For a second the background noise vanished as he suddenly realized what he was hearing. After all he'd actually heard this particular sound on many occasions.
It's steel on bo...

Two more of the villagers had been run down. The rest of the armed men were to caught up in the slaughter to notice anything going on behind them. They didn't even catch the sound of a corpse falling flat onto the ground. Nor (unfortunately for them) the sound of running feet sprinting towards their turned backs.
The first notion they got of danger was the sudden sequel of the one man who'd cheaped out and brought a club. His squeal quickly transformed into a wet cough as the sword which had impaled him was yanked out. A friend to his right wheeled around and attempted to slash at the attacker who'd just jumped them. Timothy cut under his swing, and lashed into his arm into the process. Sending the severed limb flying away from it's former owner.

It took several more seconds before Cedric had caught onto what was going on. One of his own men had just shoved him out of the way while dashing towards the woods. He took no more than four steps before falling face first onto the ground. One of his hands was still twitching, the other was gone entirely.
Cedric wheeled over to see several of his companions lying dead on the ground. A few other were rushing away with ugly looking gashes cleaved across their bodies. One of his better sword arms (a rather dim lad named Henryk) was doing his damnedest to fight off the butcher before him.
Timothy casually tossed his sword from hand to hand as he stepped over the corpses of Cedric's dead men. Henryk kept his guard up, focusing on nothing else but his opponent. Almost instantly Timothy caught the sword between one of it's tosses and slashed it at Henryk. Instead of cutting through the man's neck Timothy was surprised to see that the blow had been parried. He straightened up then attacked more seriously.
For a moment it seemed that they were evenly matched. Henryk caught another attack and even swung back. He went on the defensive again, and watched his opponent tense for another swing.
He couldn't help but find that a little funny. His opponent was faster than a loosed quarrel. No one had been able to keep up with him.

That did not change the fact that he was a shit swordsman.

The man had telegraphed every single move that he made. There was no subtlety in any of it. That managed to infuriate Henryk as well.

The bastard doesn't need to be good...he's to fooking fast...fast'n arrogant to boot. Maybe that'll help...he's about to backswing at me. If I can block that then I'll be able to stab right into his smug face.

Indeed as Henryk had predicted Tim drew back his arm for a backswing. His body was completely exposed, but Henryk didn't take the bait. In matters of sword fighting he could be rather cautious and shrewd. He waited for their swords to meet, then he'd get to kill him.
Tim's sword suddenly came down. In the split second before their blades met Henryk perceived something. He couldn't tell what exactly it was, but he imagined that it was a sense of dread.

Cedric had watched helplessly as the stranger broke Henryk's sword with the strength of his swing, before the blade was hacked deep into the poor fool's abdomen. A puff of pink mist stained the air as Henryk instantly went limp. Timothy attempted to pull his sword out, but found that that it had caught on...in Henryk.
He jerked the corpse back and forth a bit in an attempt to free his sword. Timothy was so caught up in this that he barely noticed Cedric bring his sword down hard onto his exposed head.
It would have been rather nice if he'd been able to kill him. Unfortunately this day had just been one big disappointment for Cedric.
A loud metallic clang sounded when the metal of Cedric's sword met the alloy that made up what Timothy liked to call his skull.
There was a moment of silence after that. Neither of the two men spoke a word. A thin line of blood dripped down Tim's surprised face before he finally reacted. He let go of his old sword's hilt, then punched Cedric savagely below the waist. The older man let out something like a hoarse groan, before falling onto his back.

Timothy kicked whoever the groaning man on the ground was a few more times before putting a hand on his own head. He winced a bit at the cut on his scalp then wiped the blood off on his wool shirt. He glanced down at the stain he'd just made, then to some of the bodies lying around him. Some of them had better fitting clothes...they all also had shoes.
Timothy started stripping corpses (one of his oldest pastimes) for whatever he could get. Henryk (as it turned out) had a pair of perfect fitting boots for him. The man with the missing arm had a fitting undershirt along with a nice leather vest (which he had managed not to bleed on). Another man had a purse full of coins, the likes of which Tim had never seen before.
Walking over to the dead man who'd tried to skewer him Tim turned him over and began to search the body. After a few seconds he pulled out something wrapped up in some kind of oilskin. He unwrapped it and to his surprise he found...

"A chicken sandwich?" he said aloud.

"How the fuck did you even..."

Timothy stopped talking when smelled the sandwich. Without much hesitation he took a bite out of it.

It was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted.

Several minutes after the attack had started the population of Oreton finally felt that it was safe to wander back home. They walked back to see the stranger from before gorging himself on a chunk of fried meat, only stopping to slurp down a battered flask or what smelled like sour wine.
The small crowd looking at the bloody mess around them and then back to the stranger in the middle of it didn't know that to do. Timothy finished off the meat before looking over at the mud splattered villagers staring at him. He noticed their looks and after thinking it over decided that he should probably leave.

They looked afraid...afraid of him.

Tim finished the last of the wine, tossed the bottle aside then pointed to Lucy.

"You there...Lucy right? Remind me, how to I get to the Inn at the Crossroads?"

Lucy paled noticeably when he pointed her out. She didn't speak for a few seconds, but once she noticed the rest of the village staring at her she quickly stammered out some vague directions for the stranger to follow. All the while trying not to make eye contact with him.
Timothy gave them a nod and a thank you then turned around. He stopped briefly to pick up the sword that Cedric had hit him with. There was a small bend in the blade from where it hit his head, but otherwise it seemed to good to leave behind.
Tim walked back over to Cedric and yanked the scabbard off of him. He groaned again, and Tim kicked again in return.

"Looks like this fucker is still alive." commented Tim.

"I suppose you can decide what to do with him."

Without any other words Tim slid the sword into it's old scabbard, then walked off out of Oreton.
He had many, many questions about this whole situation, but he decided not to burden himself with them right now. He was already feeling pretty good.

It had been nice to take out some pent up aggression on a few...raiders...probably. After getting beat up and cut open, it's kinda cathartic to do it to someone else.

In a cottage on the outskirts of Midcopse a sorceress was nursing one hell of a headache. There was a goose egg sized lump on the side of her head, and she was currently searching her memory for whatever spell would mend this particular injury. She didn't have the energy to be mad at the moment. She understood the scope of what had just escaped. Right now though...she didn't want to burden herself with the questions she would inevitably have to start asking.
Her quiet moment was shattered by the sound of neighing coming from outside her home. Keira looked out one of her windows to see Geralt of Rivia, back sooner than usual.
She breathed a little easier at the sight of him.

Perhaps he could...assist with this new problem she'd encountered.