It was getting late. The sun was finally setting after a long, warm summer day. As the shadows grew longer many found their way to the local pub by the gates of the small city of Giron. The entry to the rather filthy cradle of underdogs, losers, vagabonds and those who were hungry for a cheap wench or two, was on a dark alley running along the city wall. The sign had fallen long ago and it was never fixed. That is why no one really remembered the name of the place. They just called the pub By The Gates.
That was also where Ramus was headed. He was a vagabond in his own mind. He went where life took him. Often times it would take him through Giron and By The Gates was the only place he knew he could afford a bed, food and something to drink.
The night had already fallen and the sky had opened it's taps. It was raining like that particular night would be the last night to rain. Ramus' thin hooded knee-length leather coat did not keep him dry for long. He was soaked from head to toe. He banged the thick gates with his rough, fist. Someone might say those poor hands had seen life more than they should have. While waiting the guard to open the door he tightened his wristbands that also kept all extra fabric away from distracting full functionality of his hands.
A small hatch opened. "This is Tory, the head guard of Giron. State your business!" A firm voice of a seasoned man rang clear through the heavy rain that was punishing the ground. A pleased grin appeared on Ramus' rough slightly but elegantly bearded face. "Good to hear a voice of a friend Tory", Ramus answered, "long time no see."
The door in the gate flew open and a short strong structured man came out with a happy astonishment on behind his beard. "Ramus, what brings you here! It has been a dragon's age since I saw you here last time!" Tory pulled Ramus in through the door and looking at his shoes he said, "those have seen a few miles. You need new ones."
Ramus laughed, "they are fine. They are the best I've ever had. These were made by the elves near the Astrelian Plains. They do not go out of condition like you. You have gathered a bit of extra protection around your waist during the last few years." Tory shaked his head. "Age doesn't do any good to me. Care for a drink? I know you are headed to By The Gates."
Calling the junior guard to take his post, Tory took Ramus in to the pub. Once they stepped in Ramus took his hood off which revealed a wet almost a shoulder length dark brown hair. "Wait, no no no! You are getting gray too!" Tory pointed the aging gray shading on Ramus' beard and hair. "Age is catching me too," Ramus said briefly.
They sat at a table. Ramus opened his jacket a bit which revealed beige tunic and a cub saber tooth pendant. "Do you remember when we were running on the city walls and bugging the guards all those decades ago?" Tory asked Ramus. He nodded. He had his eyes at the woman behind the bartender's table. She looked at him and smiled.
Tory and Ramus just sat and talked for a while. Reminiscing their childhood lives half a lifetime before. The pub was well lit two story building. The first floor had the bar area and storage room. The upper floor had the bedrooms and living quarters for the wenches. Naomi, the bartender screamed when one of the customers was getting a bit too aggressive with his attempt to hit on her. What Ramus did next caused quite a mess.
He stood up and in seconds the man was lifted up on a wall with one hand and a blade formed of ice was pressed against the man's neck. "Drop it" Ramus snarled at the man under his agitated breath. The man just looked at Ramus for a moment and drunk as he was, he spat on Ramus' face. Even if Ramus was aged and most people of his age were already retired, Tory was going to do it in a couple of years, it didn't stop the man from flying across the room and crashing on a table that naturally broke of the impact. The three men - looking not so law abiding - that were sitting in the now destroyed table attacked Ramus. Having a strong and heavy body structure the three were not much of a challenge, more of a nuisance to him.
The next five minutes turned the bar into a free for all bar fight arena.
One of the earlier three attacked Ramus again with a knife drawn out this time. The man dives into a thrust. Ramus, agile as he is despite his size, steps aside, grabs the wrist of the man and disarms him of the knife. Then Ramus grabs the man by the neck lifting the man against a thick pole that is holding the inside balcony up. He lifts his other hand to pull the saber that is tied to his back from it's sheath.
That was also where Ramus was headed. He was a vagabond in his own mind. He went where life took him. Often times it would take him through Giron and By The Gates was the only place he knew he could afford a bed, food and something to drink.
The night had already fallen and the sky had opened it's taps. It was raining like that particular night would be the last night to rain. Ramus' thin hooded knee-length leather coat did not keep him dry for long. He was soaked from head to toe. He banged the thick gates with his rough, fist. Someone might say those poor hands had seen life more than they should have. While waiting the guard to open the door he tightened his wristbands that also kept all extra fabric away from distracting full functionality of his hands.
A small hatch opened. "This is Tory, the head guard of Giron. State your business!" A firm voice of a seasoned man rang clear through the heavy rain that was punishing the ground. A pleased grin appeared on Ramus' rough slightly but elegantly bearded face. "Good to hear a voice of a friend Tory", Ramus answered, "long time no see."
The door in the gate flew open and a short strong structured man came out with a happy astonishment on behind his beard. "Ramus, what brings you here! It has been a dragon's age since I saw you here last time!" Tory pulled Ramus in through the door and looking at his shoes he said, "those have seen a few miles. You need new ones."
Ramus laughed, "they are fine. They are the best I've ever had. These were made by the elves near the Astrelian Plains. They do not go out of condition like you. You have gathered a bit of extra protection around your waist during the last few years." Tory shaked his head. "Age doesn't do any good to me. Care for a drink? I know you are headed to By The Gates."
Calling the junior guard to take his post, Tory took Ramus in to the pub. Once they stepped in Ramus took his hood off which revealed a wet almost a shoulder length dark brown hair. "Wait, no no no! You are getting gray too!" Tory pointed the aging gray shading on Ramus' beard and hair. "Age is catching me too," Ramus said briefly.
They sat at a table. Ramus opened his jacket a bit which revealed beige tunic and a cub saber tooth pendant. "Do you remember when we were running on the city walls and bugging the guards all those decades ago?" Tory asked Ramus. He nodded. He had his eyes at the woman behind the bartender's table. She looked at him and smiled.
Tory and Ramus just sat and talked for a while. Reminiscing their childhood lives half a lifetime before. The pub was well lit two story building. The first floor had the bar area and storage room. The upper floor had the bedrooms and living quarters for the wenches. Naomi, the bartender screamed when one of the customers was getting a bit too aggressive with his attempt to hit on her. What Ramus did next caused quite a mess.
He stood up and in seconds the man was lifted up on a wall with one hand and a blade formed of ice was pressed against the man's neck. "Drop it" Ramus snarled at the man under his agitated breath. The man just looked at Ramus for a moment and drunk as he was, he spat on Ramus' face. Even if Ramus was aged and most people of his age were already retired, Tory was going to do it in a couple of years, it didn't stop the man from flying across the room and crashing on a table that naturally broke of the impact. The three men - looking not so law abiding - that were sitting in the now destroyed table attacked Ramus. Having a strong and heavy body structure the three were not much of a challenge, more of a nuisance to him.
The next five minutes turned the bar into a free for all bar fight arena.
One of the earlier three attacked Ramus again with a knife drawn out this time. The man dives into a thrust. Ramus, agile as he is despite his size, steps aside, grabs the wrist of the man and disarms him of the knife. Then Ramus grabs the man by the neck lifting the man against a thick pole that is holding the inside balcony up. He lifts his other hand to pull the saber that is tied to his back from it's sheath.