[Erevan Burkwood][Session 3 - Level 1][Part 1]

[Erevan Burkwood] pulled his helmet tight and he entered the village. His father had told him that this town, Arfall, was one of few good things. There were villagers that passed wearing rough hides and thick furs. Two people had baskets filled with fire wood. One man had two dead rabbits he brought into town.

Burkwood made his way toward a larger building with a sign that had a tankard and snowflakes on it. The lettering underneath read “The Frost Stop”. The teen entered leaving his sled by the door outside.

A few townspeople and a few hunters from out of town were inside. Some watched Burkwood from their peripheral while others blatantly stared at him. His bare left foot hit the planks and his right boot landed with a clunk. Thus he walked slightly lopsided as he approached the bar.

“You lose a boot?” The bartender was a tall Goliath. A man descended from giants blessed with strength and size. Though this man had a large gut as well.

“A boot, a pound of flesh, and I might have pissed myself when I was attacked by giants.” Burkwood mumbled.

“Right.” The man said as he cocked one brow. “You looking for a drink or a boot?”

“I’m not old enough to drink.” Erevan replied.

“Where’s your parents?” The bartender seemed surprised.

“Dead. I left my homestead in the North to find others.” Burkwood answered flatly.

The truth would get him further than elaborate stories. Even if Erevan didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the full truth. He still didn’t know exactly what a Crow was.

“No one lives North of here.” The bartender scoffed.

“My father was a great hunter.” While true in a general sense, his father was not in fact a sanctioned hunter in this nation.

The Goliath pursed his lips.

“Alright, fine, so your dad died. If he was a great hunter then I am sorry that the world lost him. We need men like him, especially around here.” The bartender sighed.

A chair scooted loudly as a ginger bearded man stood up and stepped up to the bar next to Burkwood. He slammed a silvered knife down into the counter.

“Werewolf clans have been cooperating and taking out hunters across the region. They're getting tricky. We just lost our outpost. That makes this shit hole village our last defense.” The man bent down to snarl the words into Erevan’s ear.

“Don’t scare the kid.” The bartender looked less than thrilled. “And the town of Arfall is tougher than half your hunters.”

“Are you trying to start something?” The ginger hunter turned to the bartender. “My brother is in one of the missing hunting parties! And you want to talk shit about us risking our lives for you!”

“Pay your tab and get out of my bar.” The bartender said bluntly.

“Not until this kid with all his cuts and blood and missing shoe bleeds himself with the silvered blade. I don’t know how he got here without frostbite and I’m willing to bet he’s a werewolf.” The hunter said with a wicked smile.

“Fuck you, Jaeger.” The bartender said before shifting his gaze to Erevan. “I won’t let him touch you in my bar. You don’t have to do shit for him.”

“If he’s not a lycan then no allergic reaction.” The ginger, Jaeger, began to explain himself.

“Okay. But I’m keeping the knife for the trouble.” Erevan shrugged before he grabbed the knife and nicked the back of his hand with a precise motion.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Blood ran down his hand onto the bar. The Goliath quickly brought out a box and pulled out some medical supplies. Jaeger stared at the wound scowling. He wordlessly turned and left the building.

“What an asshole.” The bartender grumbled as he started wrapping a bandage around the teen’s hand.

“Got any work?” Burkwood asked.

“No small talk huh. Just my dad’s dead, I’m gonna get blood on your bar, give me a job.” The Goliath shook his head. “I’m Broxton, who are you?”

“Reven Elkwood.” Erevan lied. “I would love a chance to stitch myself up, maybe sleep in an actual bed, but I don’t have much money.”

“Alright Revan. You want to remove your helmet while indoors?” Broxton asked.

“I prefer to keep it on. It was my fathers.” Erevan answered.

“Alright.” Broxton nodded. “You can clean the bar at night, chop firewood for the hearth, and clean my stables. Maybe do some stable boy things.” The Goliath shrugged. “You find a way to make my life easier and I’ll pay you.”

He thought through what he could do before nodding to him.

“And a room?” Erevan asked.

“Rooms are all full with hunters. You can stay in the stables. There’s a room in there with a fireplace. Just never insulated the place.” Broxton shrugged.

“Alright. I’m taking this with me for the night.” Erevan took the medical box and stood up from the bar.

The teen walked to where Jaeger was sitting before and picked up his half full tankard.

“Aren’t you too young to drink?” Broxton called out.

“It’s for my wounds.” Erevan grumbled before leaving.

He grabbed the reins of his sled outside, muttered his incantation, and started dragging it towards the stables. The teen pulled open a side door and slowly brought his things inside a room connected to the main stables.

After getting his things situated he threw some firewood stacked outside into the fireplace. He lit it with flint and steel before laying on a straw bed. Erevan stripped his clothes off and slowly unwrapped his bandages.

He put a belt in his mouth as he poured the alcohol on the back of his leg. Then he began to stitch himself up. After applying fresh bandages Erevan Burkwood drifted to sleep in a heartbeat.

Waking up in the early morning before any crow would make a noise the teen got dressed for the day. With only one broken boot he tossed it to the side and grabbed some leather wraps instead.

He secured those to his feet before taking a peak in the stables. There were two horses which amazed Erevan who had only ever read about them. He inched towards them, held his hand out, and felt them rub against his gloved palm.

Smiling Erevan moved through the stable looking at the other stalls. All were empty save for one. A massive fat beast sat in it facing the back wall. The teen reached over the stall and put a hand on the fur of the beast. It stank but Erevan was too curious not to see it.

The beast lifted its head. Even from behind Erevan could see the tusks of the beast. It slowly turned, giving the teen side eye that could kill. Its glare was one of annoyance. But Erevan was enraptured by the sight of the beast. It was a massive boar. Bigger than any wild boar he had ever seen.

The boar snorted and then turned its head away. It seemed lazy.

The teen headed out of the stables and found a small hatchet next to a stack of logs. He made a mental note. Perhaps he could use his extra time to chop firewood. He moved on and headed into the tavern.

Upon entering he spotted a few messy tables and one villager passed out. The teen headed to gather the dishes before heading to the back kitchen. He brought each dish to the back to be washed. The table with the passed out villager had two tankards.

The villager is wearing a black cloak and snoring. Erevan grabs the two tankards with one hand and they clink against each other. The man’s snoring stopped. Erevan looked up at the man to see him staring back.

His skin is pale, his features are sharp like the others of this region, but he’s marked. His head is shaved but his eyebrows are thick and black. Then there are black tattoos, bars, going down his face.

“Crow.” Erevan muttered.

“Yeah. Not illegal to be a Crow.” He said. “Unless you purposefully hide that you are one.”

“Fuck off.” Erevan turned and started walking back towards the kitchen.

Erevan’s mind was racing. There was no way his cover was blown on his first day, by some drunkard.

“Why the helmet?” The man grabbed Erevan’s arm.

“It’s none of your business.” Erevan tried to pull away, but the man’s grip was unnatural.

“Your father made it my business.” The Crow says.

“My father never mentioned you.” Erevan says in a low growl.

“Be careful. They’ll hear you.” The man smiles snarkily. “I’ll meet you in the stables tonight.”

“Not interested.” Erevan said and walked away.

The man disappeared from the bar as Erevan pushed through the kitchen doors. He dropped the tankards in a wash bucket before grabbing the ends of a counter. He shook, seething, fighting the urge to scream. He’d kill this man to keep his cover.