Ramir swallowed again, so as to not talk with a face stuffed with mystery meat. As far as mystery meats went though, this one was particularly tasty in it's own street food, rustic way.
"I can't say I have a profession currently. Or rather, I'm between professions."
Argent leaned his back against the bench on the next row up and took a healthy bite of the street food.
While not the best he had had, it was good. Even more so after his bit of practice, having worked up an appetite. So he rasied the stick to Vandal in salute and gave another nod of thanks.
"I guess you could say the same for me. Came here hoping there would be work to be had in a new town. Seems I wasn't the only one with that idea."
sigh
"It also seems there are few people looking to hire just one man these days. I blame those 'Red Brothers' they have posted everywhere. They seem to have the whole town on edge.
Perhaps we should partner up? Offer our services together as a package?
Better to share the coin, then have no coin at all."
I was born, shortsword in my hand.
Behind a shield, I'll make my final stand.
Ramir shrugs, but not in a dismissive way. He finishes his last morsel and swigs at his drink, then sighs with relief and contentment.
"Well that could make sense - but you might find me a poor partner. You don't even know if I can hold my own, no? Besides, you're a veteran and I'm sure you're a welcome addition to any outfit. You should be able to find work aplenty - or at least I would hope so. I haven't done much looking, myself."
Ramir smirked and shook his head, showing open hands to indicate he wanted no part of it.
"I'd be mad to have a go at you. You've both range and defense - I'd be better off standing at the end of the field, throwing rocks at you. I'm a little too limited in my proficiency to think that fighting you head on would be a smart move."
It sounded reasonable and it should, what Ramir said was entirely true. However, he wasn't overly concerned as to whether he could handle the lancer's style but rather, was refraining from giving his own away. Ramir kept his weapons mostly concealed because he knew an unsure enemy was easier to take down. Much easier. Besides, sparring didn't do much for someone who preferred to strike like an ambush predator.
How to not completely crap on a first encounter with someone who seemed agreeable though?
"Tell me, can you throw that thing as well as thrust?"
He was about to call it a day, thank the man for sharing his food and head 'home' with some well wishes and a hope for future talk, but Vandal's question held him there.
Shrug.
"When I have to."
I was born, shortsword in my hand.
Behind a shield, I'll make my final stand.
Ramir grinned and nodded to Argent as he pointed to a wooden training dummy across the ring from where they stood. He tugged his compact bow from his back and flicked a catch, holding it at arm's length to let it suddenly unfold. Drawing an arrows to his cheek, he hissed a breath and let it fly, as soon as a couple of other locals moved well away from the target area. Ramir didn't really study his target, nor spend an age on his aim. He'd done the math instinctively, before the arrow was pulled back and ready.
A satisfying twang resounded as the arrow struck the shield that the dummy held. Ramir laughed, scratching at his head with his now free hand.
That now familiar grin flashed again as he looked to the man he was quickly considering friend.
"Aye. All the more reason to carry one in my opinion.
Sadly the spear lacks the range of even a smaller bow like yours, but let me try."
He takes the few steps closer to the dummy it would take to put him within throwing range of the target.
He raises his shield to cover himself despite the lack of need to do so. Some bits of training are just ingrained it seemed. His spear rested lightly in his other hand. As he raised it, he pivoted the grip to a throwing one as he guaged the distance. With a half step forward he brought his arm forward hard and fast and released the spear with a grunt to watch it arc towards the dummy.
It struck the shield as well, but with a harder impact than the arrow. It waivered there for a moment before the weight pulled it from the old wood and sent it to the ground.
Shrug.
"Seems you're not the only one having problems with shields."
I was born, shortsword in my hand.
Behind a shield, I'll make my final stand.
Ramir laughed gently, quite humored at the outcome of their 'practice'. He was still uncertain whether he thought it necessary to withhold his particular style. It wasn't a secret, it was just unconventional. Giving it a little longer to ruminate in his mind, he packed his bow away and thought 'blast it'.
"I still say you have me at a disadvantage. But let's see here..."
Ramir crossed the field to pass by Argent's side and stood within arm's reach of the dummy. He shooks out his hands and breathed out, tilting his neck side to side to loosen up.
"Alright. I tend to fight up close and personal. So let's say I've closed in on the opponent and am on my terms."
Ramir's empty left palm smacked the dummy's forehead and the briefest moment later, his right hand glanced across it's throat and left a considerable scratch in the wood. He paused for a moment, half turned away from the target and then again, stepped in, his right elbow striking the temple of the target and his left hand, now holding a hard-to-see blade, thrust into it's gut before raking up. Hands weaved across one another then and quickly, a flurry of raking gouges glanced the surface of the wood. They didn't pierce like a spear and didn't splinter like a heavy weapon, but one thing was evident. Ramir had delivered as many blows as you could blink in the space a breath.
His hands whipped past his lower back and his blades were home once more, leaving him apparently unarmed. He turned to face Argent and shrugged.
He nodded his approval, always astounded by the capabilities of those that went with fighting styles different to his own.
"That I do, friend. And I see your reason for concern. You would be hard pressed against a well armored opponent. Tho speed and perhaps accuracy would be on your side.
Let me try now."
Stepping forward, he retrieves his spear from the dirt and bounces it in his hand a moment to adjust the postion.
Raising his shield to just below eye level, he advances. He begins with a quick jab and swipe of the spear blade at the figure's head. Intended as a feint, in a living target it would hopfully cause him to flinch or react in some way that would aid what was to follow.
Which was a hard blow from his shield against the dummy's that set it rocking back slightly. As it moved forward to return to its resting place, his spear was already thrusting forward towards the exposed neck of the dummy, where it bit into the wood.
He stepped back then to look at Ramir.
"It lacks your speed and finesse, I know. However, it is effective in other ways. And I have seen spearmen able to strike as quick as snakes. Something I aspire to one day achieve."
I was born, shortsword in my hand.
Behind a shield, I'll make my final stand.
Ramir claps his hands and nods in approval, appreciation evident in his expression.
"We're not so unalike, not really. Where you use your shield, I'll leap and knee my opponent in their center mass to stagger them. My blades then target the neck, or other exposed vitals. We play to our strengths.
"Acctually, outside of Ray at the Tavern, you are the first I have met here.
I am a man of few talents. Most of them associated with fighting. I traveled many places and taken on many jobs, but that was when I was with a larger group. Sellswords, really. But such a life is short and dangerous and I now find myself on my own.
Figured a change of location might do me some good and get me some coin.
As for a place to stay, I am currently taking residence at a tavern. Rent is eating into what little coin I have though, so I am hoping to find something else soon. Provided work comes my way.
What about you? Sail in on the winds and will leave as they change?"
I was born, shortsword in my hand.
Behind a shield, I'll make my final stand.