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Travels
Chapter 4: A Past Remembered
The city of Glendon Wood was bustling with activity. In front of the armory, warriors shuffled for position to purchase weapons. The jeweler stood in the window of his shop shouting: "I offer the best prices in the land!" The tavern door opened revealing laughter and singing only to be muffled again when the door slammed shut.
Offa had intended to only visit the armory, to sell the loot of two weeks of hunting, but instead gave in to the draw of the tavern. After taking a seat at the bar and ordering a drink he turned his back to a busy bartender and faced the people in the tavern.
He noticed many warriors had removed their heavy armor and sat in dirty underclothes. A scantily dressed barmaid smoothly navigated between customers, selling drinks from a round tray. In each corner of the room a warrior stood on guard with eyes scanning the crowd.
A man approached Offa and looked at him curiously. "Offa?" he asked.
Surprised to be recognized, Offa looked hard at the man. He was older, probably in his fifties, with gray hair and a black mustache that curled at the ends. He had the look of a veteran to the land, as judged by his hard features and relaxed demeanor. His blue jacket and brown pants appeared to be made of mail.
"Yes." Offa said.
"I can't believe it's you! Do you remember me from Ispar?"
"No, I really don't remember much of my home world."
"May I join you?"ock, satisfied with his work. He begins to fiddle with the mechanism again, rewarded with a soft click.
The door opens soundlessly. . .
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