|
Ramsa felt himself being lifted into the air.
Am I dying?
He came to a stop in a chair.
Perhaps I am about to be judged by the gods in this chair?
He felt paranoid but was too dazed to express it.
OW! He belted out as a tall woman touched a wound on his head. Back to reality. All of the noises in the inn seemed to echo in his head, including this woman's voice. He thought about her question for a while.
Ehh, my name? Ramsa...Solbank, but last names don't matter much do they? What's your name?
A man from the back area of the bar came to him bearing stew.
Thank you, very much, both of you...
His words were barely audible underneath the gobbling of food. He had never had stew to his knowledge, he was always raised on the finest soups and bisques. But this stew would have to do for now.
He whispered to the woman. Tell the others I am sorry for spoiling their conversation.
He coughed and wheezed. He felt like vomiting but didn't want to be more of a bother. He held his head and massaged his temples, moaning and groaning in between bites of stew.
|