[Erevan Burkwood][Session 3 - Level 1][Part 2]

He headed back to the kitchen to wash dishes. He took his sweet time not wanting to run into that man. There was no telling what that guy wanted. Erevan also felt put off by his appearance.

Eventually he went out to the empty bar area to clean. Broxton was tidying up the chairs, but he stopped when Erevan entered. With a sigh Broxton looked up at him and began to speak.

“I saw that Crow talking to you.” Broxton sat a chair down on the floor. His gaze was downcast and his voice was almost somber. “I get it now. The helmet. Living North of civilization. Your old man saved you from being a slave. I won’t turn you in. But I can’t have you working or living here, and I hope you don’t take that personally.”

“I’m not a Crow!” Erevan couldn’t help but let his anger bubble up.

“Then take off the helmet.” Broxton said quietly.

“I can’t.” Erevan stepped away.

“Maybe that man can help you. Hear him out. I know I can’t help and I can’t risk the danger of letting you work here.” Broxton shook his head.

“Alright, fine. I’ll just leave then.” Erevan dropped the rag he was cleaning with and stormed out the door.

The teen headed to the stables and threw the door to his room open. The Crow from before was admiring the ballista. His hood was pulled down and Erevan could see tattoos across his bald head.

“It’s very loud. Has a lot of personality.” The man said with a smile as he traced a finger down the ballista’s bolt.

“How did you figure me out so fast?” Erevan asked.

“You were a busboy wearing a helmet. And not just any helmet, but the helm of my favorite customer.” The man answered.

“You said something about him earlier. How do you know my father?” Erevan shut the door behind him and stepped into the room.

“I was his smith, his tailor, his tattoo artist, and his book merchant. I did a lot for him. I love my clients and that’s why I keep these.” The man held out four red gems. Three of them were glowing.

“So?” Erevan looked up from the gems and glared at the man.

“This one,” he held up the one that wasn’t glowing, “is your fathers.”

“You knew when my father died?” Erevan tightened his fists.

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“Not right away. But I eventually noticed his light had been snuffed out.” The man replied. “I assume you were his kid. He always talked about you.”

“So you were his secret contact.” Erevan turned away. “He thought I didn’t know about you.”

“The name is Hvardrik.” He put out a hand.

“Sounds like a type of cheese.” Erevan said as he shook the man's hand.

A ring on the man's finger opened and a small needle slashed across Erevan’s hand. The teen flinched and yanked his hand away. Hvardrik held Troike’s ruby under his ring and a small amount of blood from the needle dripped onto the gem. It began to glow again.

“Keeping tabs on me now?” Erevan asked, obviously upset, as he nursed his hand.

“Starting our contract. I need you to help me.” Hvardrik explained. “I have a bag of red coins here. Put them on humanoid corpses you leave out in the wilderness or whatever. I’ll collect them. A hundred gold for every corpse.”

“What’s the catch?” Erevan asked.

“You’ll be supplying the materials I need to build an undead security force. No worries though, I’m not a lich or anything. It’s just some dabbling in dark Magic’s to make sure no one enslaves me ever again.” Hvardrik smiled at Erevan, perhaps a comforting smile, but it only made a chill run up the teen’s spine.

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” Erevan said warily.

“Your dad taught you the incantation for lightening the weight of what you carry, right? Well I can inscribe that spell onto your skin, a better version of the spell even, to free up your concentration and drain less energy from you.” The man seemed to be offering something Erevan never knew that he desperately needed.

“I’m not sure.” Erevan rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s effects stack with your spell if you ever need to carry something really heavy.” Hvardrik cut Erevan off.

Erevan’s eyes brightened as he tried to comprehend how much he could carry. This magical tattoo could completely change how he handles all his equipment!

“Okay, sure. A little tattoo can’t hurt.” Erevan shrugged, remaining calm. .

“Alright, you’re gonna need to lay down and this tattoo will go from your shoulders down your back.” Hvardrik informed.

He took off his fur cloak and his shirt. Hvardrik removed a needle and a dark oil from a pouch on his side. Erevan winced at seeing the materials. It hadn’t been long enough to forget why his cheek was scarred.

Over the course of the night the teen was painstakingly given a tattoo down his back of muleback cords. Two large braided cords that ran from his shoulders all the way down his back.

The process is long and painful, but Hvardrik weaves magic into every stitch making it bearable.

As the early morning came Hvardrik and Erevan went into the stables. Hvardrik encouraged him to try out his new power. Erevan lifted a couple of hay bales with ease. Then he muttered his incantation to lighten his load even further before picking up a horse.

“This is amazing!” Erevan sat the scared horse back down.

“The magic ink for that cost a thousand gold. I won’t charge you for the time and labor for this transaction. But find me ten corpses in a month and we’ll continue to do business.” Hvardrik turned to leave.

“That's it?” Erevan asked.

“I have things to do. Monsters to feed.” Hvardrik called back.

“Thank you!” Erevan yelled after him. .

Hvardrik summoned a shadow across the doorway and stepped through it disappearing from sight. A stunned Erevan was left with a magic tattoo and a bag with fifteen red coins in it. The teen tucked the bag into his other supplies on the sled before crashing down in his room and succumbing to sleep.

It was a well earned sleep having been up all night. But it would not be restful.