Your fist whips out, faster than a striking snake, catching the big fellow in the nose. Even before the first drop of blood hit’s his upper lip, your hand is down and back at his neck, your dagger placed lightly against his throat. He stares at you for a bit with a puzzled expression on his face, the blood slowly leaking out of his right nostril.
“Let go of my hand if you want to live,” you say, staring the big man in the eye. He stares back for another couple of seconds. Then his face is split by a large, genuine toothy grin. He releases your hand, and you reflexively shake it to get the tingling sensation to pass. You lower your blade from his neck and say “That’s better.”
Before you know what is happening you are enveloped in a fierce bear hug. The big man lifts you off of your feet, spins you around, and then sets you back down, releasing his overpowering hold on you. He claps you on your shoulder hard enough to make you stagger. “Been a long time, Leldorin!” he says while wiping the blood from his face. He looks at his blood covered hand. “You didn’t have to hit me, though.”
“Violence is often the only way to get through to you,” you say, sheathing your dagger. “I see you got some new armor.”
He looks down at the scratched and dented breastplate. “Well my leathers had a bunch of rips, tears and bloodstains on them. It would have cost me a fortune to get them properly repaired.” He looks you in the eye and gives you a wink. “Besides, when I first noticed the rips and tears there just happened to be this beauty of a breastplate laying there on the ground, all limp and lifeless.” He chuckles a little, pleased at his fine joke.
“So you peeled it off a corpse?” you ask, not shocked at all.
“Well he wasn’t quite a corpse yet,” he says. He shows you his axe. “I found this nearby as well.” He throws back his head and lets out a loud guffaw (yes, I know, I hate this word, too). Changing the subject, he turns to you and says “I didn’t know you were heading back here. Last I heard you were on your way east. Muro, wasn’t it?”
The two of you leave the alley and begin heading in the direction of the Lucky Duck again. “Saw it and some other places while I’ve been away. What are you still doing here?” you ask. “I thought you’d taken a job with a caravan or something.”
The big guy shrugs his shoulders. “That lasted a while. Then there was an ‘incident’ and I left their employ. Been here for a few months, wasting time, takin’ odd jobs. I been working at the Duck for the past month, actually.”
“That’s just where I’m headed, as luck would have it,” you say. You look up at him. “By the way, what are you doing out here, anyway?”
You have retraced your steps back to the old, decrepit fountain with the statue depicting the figure and the bird. You take a seat on the rim, noting that the fountain has been drained. The big man sits next to you. “You heard about the Gobs, right?” he asks. You nod your head. “Well, they won’t be coming near anyone like me. Too big of a threat, I’ll wager.” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “So I was stalking them. I dunno, I used to do it back home with deer and elk. It’s really not much different with the Gobs.”
“So you were sneaking up on the sneaks?” you ask. “That’s actually pretty… smart.” Not that this guy is necessarily dumb, but he’s not the most intelligent person you’ve met by far. You are a little impressed that someone of his intellect thought to lay an ambush for the Goblins. You have known this man for quite some time. In fact when you first met him (during your first trip through Evenbrook) he was a fresh-faced youth, only recently having left his home to the north. He is good-natured, a true friend, and a straight forward person. When a problem presents itself you can expect him to be right there at your side, attacking it head on. He may be uncouth at times, but he loves a good joke and he is a good companion. You are proud to count him among your few true friends.
What is this big man's name?