Jordan leaned against the cool stone wall, smiling softly to himself. Today was going well, he thought to himself as he looked around the area. A cobbled road led in eight directions to the large town square, a marble fountain in the center. The water within sparkled like a fresh-cut jewel, refracting the light. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Coins clinked in his pocket as he turned his gaze upwards, to the blue sky, a few wispy clouds visible. The sun was overhead, providing warmth, but the air was still cold. People walked about, going about their busy days, but it wasn't too crowded. A few guards patrolled the town, but did so lazily, knowing that no threats were about. A soft breeze carried the delicious smell of baking bread and sausage from the vendors to the south. The town was one of peace, and prosperity. Danger and crime were rare. His wool clothing kept him warm in the winter air, and the ground lacked any snow. It rarely snowed here. Everything was going as usual, but he watched it all keenly, waiting for anything out of the ordinary, anything to sate his appetite for more knowledge. The knife on his leather belt was firmly in its sheath, the copper hilt reflecting the light of the sun. He straightened and began to walk away, to go to another area to watch the people there, but felt a dizziness sweep over him, disrupting his balance. He stumbled, almost falling, but kept his feet. The air appeared to be moving, rippling, almost visible. He shook his head to clear it, but the shimmering was still there. He fell as the dizziness increased, and a murky shape began to grow in the distorted air. "Huh...?" He murmured, confused, and the shape took form. An ogre stood in the center, its rough skin a deep green. It had no visible ears, and it stood at least twelve feet tall, bulky. At this point, people shouted in terror and shock. The guards unsheathed their swords, their shields readying. The ogre readied its massive wooden club, smashing the beautiful fountain with a single swing, and swung at the guards. They tried to run, but most got smashed by the club, their bones shattering with the crushing force, blood soaking the wood and cobbles.  People ran from the ogre as it obliterated the guards. Jordan watched with horror. They don't stand a chance... He thought in dismay. An arrow appeared in the ogre's back, doing no severe harm. Jordan looked to the source of the arrow, where a man was on a roof. The ogre turned, smashing his club through the house, but the man remained safe. He fired another arrow at the enraged ogre, hitting it in the forehead, but it deflected off of bone. He rolled aside as the ogre swung his club downward again with all his force, shattering the cobbles where the man had been a second before. No doubt about it... This man was one of the Guardians. The Guardians were the elite, the best of the soldiers. Their numbers miniscule, only having four. Jordan watched as the next arrow penetrated the ogre's throat. Its club came down again, the man rolling aside, but the ogre's strength was failing. Within thirty seconds, it fell to the ground, the arrows having done their work. The air shimmered softly, rippling and moving, distorting once more. The deceased ogre began to glow and reflect the light, and then vanished. The dead guards laid on the ground, mutilated by the beast's club. The dizziness faded fast, and Jordan stood slowly up. Sweat covered his light skin, mostly  from terror. The man who was a Guardian put his bow on his back again, and walked away. Jordan debated running after him, but decided otherwise. He looked at what was once a beautiful place, now ruined. A building was destroyed, two of the walls having been demolished, and the roof having caved in. Parts of the ground were shattered completely, and eight dead guards were lying mutilated, bones smashed, shields reduced to mere splinters, swords broken or completely shattered. Jordan slowly walked over, looking at them. One guard's head was still intact, his steel helmet unbroken. Jordan slowly, uncomfortably, picked it up, feeling horrible for what he was doing, but his more rational side urged him on, telling him the dead guard would not need it any longer. He picked up the sword, two feet of cold steel with words engraved on it, and a gold handle wrapped in soft leather for the grip. It was a well-crafted blade, kept razor-sharp by the guard. That was rare. Most guards paid little attention to their weapons and gear, and they became out of shape. He sighed, knowing the town had lost one of its finest. He unbuckled the sheath from the guard's belt, whispering a prayer to this guard's spirit, hoping he rested with the Creator. He buckled it to his belt, looking at the words engraved on the blade. May the Kingdom outlast even magic itself, it said. "May your spirit rest well. You deserve it." He whispered gently, guiltily knowing he had taken the gear from the dead man, but knowing he would need it in the future. He didn't know how he knew, only that he knew. He sighed, sheathing his new sword, the light blade easy to wield. He had training with a sword, good training, because his parents were adventurers, and warriors. Damn good ones at that. So he knew his way around swords, maces, and axes. He disliked the hard training, training his agility, strength, and most importantly, his mind. Your blade only helps you so much, son. Your strongest weapon is your brain, his father always said. He went home to tell his parents of what had transpired, even though they probably already knew. After all, everyone in the town knew at this point.

A/N

Tell me how i can make this any better, highlight any points at all in which I can make it more detailed, more graphic, more enticing to the reader. Any suggestions are welcome. I do not know where this series will end up xD