Andreas of Eraklyon

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Andreas had found himself in some questionable places before. He was a solider, he was trained for that. Especially after the missions that Rosalind had sent him on during the war. He'd earned his reputation. All that said and done he had never woken up in the First World before. Or whatever this place was. It wasn't the Otherworld. The light didn't seem right. Though as he made his way down the streets, things lurked in the shadows. Like the monsters he'd fought in his world. Except this time he didn't have a fairy on his side or...

"Fuck." He grumbles. There is something in the shadows. There is definitely something there. He wouldn't mind Farrah being there then. A mind fairy would be useful to give him some idea what the hell is about to try and jump him from the shadows. Which he swears should not be out to kill him already. There should be some sort of grace period before whatever the fuck is controlling this place figures out he should be got rid of. Because he's already too battle weary and worn to go a moment without thinking that something out there has a bigger plan. Thank you Rosalind for that.

He doesn't get a chance. It attacks. He isn't sure what it's supposed to be, but sure as hell doesn't look like a burnt one at least. No one needs those here. Whatever's here has enough clearly without adding that to the mix. He reached instinctively for his sword, specialist training kicking in automatically. Thankfully his sword at least seems to have accompanied him. It felt good in his hand. The sword always does. It was made for him after all.

Somehow Andreas manages a couple of blows to it. Still it, because fuck he doesn't want to find out what thing is now and he's actually preferring the idea of burnt ones because he knows how to handle them. As a good soldier he knows as well as attack when to retreat. This is a retreat. Quickly. Getting away from it is the idea then over killing it. He stands no chance of that. A suitable blow to it that won't do much damage but should give a distraction enough so he can run.

Run he does.

At least back to somewhere with less shadows and more people around. A strategic retreat. He isn't going to ever mention it to anyone willingly.