A seedy little bar. No place for an elite warrior to be living in. The women there were substandard even by his heavily eroded standards. Even getting drunk didn't make most of them attractive. The racketeer bar owner charged him to advertise his services. Seriously, who did that? Who made someone pay to nail a piece of paper into the termite infested wood of a place barely worth calling a building. Didn't even give him a discount for room and board.
Well finally it had all payed off. After this job he could move to a place that only smelled funny and didn't look ready to fall down. Falling to the rock bottom made climbing one's way back up... unpleasant. But hey, he had standards. Standards based on questionable logic, but standards none-the-less.
Some old man in a robe showed up, looking for skilled hands. None were more skilled than him. When he was sober. Which was something that was infuriatingly common since he was too broke to buy ale these days. He wasn't usually a heavy drinker, but if he didn't drink he would go insane from the mind numbing boredom he was subject to.
When he'd heard he could get paid more than even his already high price for this job, he hadn't even asked what he would be doing. He didn't care. They could have hired him to burn down an orphanage and he'd have done it. What? He'd have given them fair warning first. He wasn't a monster.
And so there he was... at a... temple? He was almost afraid to go in lest he burst into flames. He probably wasn't on the best of terms with the gods. Some of the people milling about were already giving his lightweight black armor funny looks. The fanged-skull engraving on his right shoulder-pad might have had something to do with it.
Well, he'd rather get funny looks than wear the horrible, clanking, half-ton full plate some of the other men in the escort party were wearing. Maneuverability was a better defense in his mind. Of course black armor still got hot in the sun. Sweat kept dripping from the bangs of his short black hair into his icy-blue eyes.
"Bloody hell." He wiped his brow.
"Watch your language, you. This is a holy place," one of the other warriors warned.
"I have a name. Rurik." He was just looking for any point to argue honestly. The warrior just shook his head.
Finally they entered the grand building. He was curious now, what was he here to guard? He should have asked more questions. He was under the impression it was supposed to be an escort, but that was all he knew. Escort what? Escort who?
That was when he saw the young woman in the room.
Escort her. Please for the love of the gods tell him he was going to escort her. That, he could most certainly live with if only for the eye candy.
He sighed. It had been a while...