The half empty bottle of rum clanked on the cobblestone of the sidewalk as he watch wary travelers pass him by. The brown jacket he wore was tattered and torn hanging in strips from his shoulders showing equally dirty and unappealing black slacks and shirt. The hood of the jacket remained intact though and shielded the mans face. Legs stretched out in front of him extending nearly 4 feet in front of him.His holey boots showing his toes to the world.

"Here you go..” An old man bent down and passed him another bottle of rum. The old man turned and reentered his private establishment. The fresh bottle was stashed inside his jacket and the first bottle nearly drained.

“Damn beggars, you showed up as soon as those gates opened.”

Eyes move under the hood to the voice, a group of young men, probably native to the land. Those eyes return back to his rum and lifts the bottle to take another swig. A foot smacks the bottle down the sidewalk breaking it and spilling the rum across the cobblestones. He watches the liquid fill the cracks in and slowly fade from view. His gaze turns to the group of young men.

“Trust me. You don’t want me to get up.” He muttered clasping his hands behind his head to relax in the warm sun.

The light is cut off someone standing between him and his sun.

“Was that a threat? You may be big but I doubt your anything of a man. How strong can a man be if he makes a living off of others?” The kick is aimed for his ribs but it didn’t connect. The young gentleman found himself flipped and landed on his back on the stone.

The three other men moved forward, he let them grab his shoulders and drag him up. The leader began standing up. “Hold him boys.” The young man said pulling back a fist.

The seven foot man let him punch him in the jaw his head twisting slightly while his assaulter swore in pain. He chuckled as he titled his chin back down.

“It’s like hitting a damn brick. Get me something to hit him with.” The leader ordered stepping back to nurse his hurt hand.

“Enough games.” The seven foot man said lowly and lifted both his arms wrapping a hand around the tunics of the two holding him. They both yelled in surprise and began to beat on him. He lifted his head so he could see the leader and the fourth goon who was scrounging around for some sort of weapon. The two were tossed at each. The heaviest one hit the leader square in the chest knocking them both to the ground and the other two collided just as the one rummaging around turned knocking heads in the process.

The hood was pushed back and dark crimson eyes stare at the four men trying to pull themselves up. Broad shoulders rise in a shrug and the hidden bottle of rum is retrieved and opened. He takes a swig. “I told you that you didn’t want me to get up. No one ever listens.” Scraggly beard is scratched with one hand as he strides off. He didn’t know the laws but he didn’t want to risk getting arrested over something so petty.