Spirits of the Earth

The Last Hearth was a rickity old farmhouse turned into a tavern. It sat on the very outskirts of La'marri, but was devoid of i'ts pastoral charm and subtle magic. It drew a rough crowd. Barbas the Bear, a great brute with an axe, lumbered inside and and made a B-line for the bar. Several rowdy-looking men in mail, and a veiled woman with an enormous grimoire who reeked of brimstone, followed. "Ewan!" he bellowed, drawing a scroll from his pocket to show the barkeep.

Old Rubin, a pot-bellied man with a limp (who gossiped like a fish-wife), ran the day-to-day. He studied the scroll and gave a snort. "The lad's round back. Mistake or a prank I'll wager, Barbas. don't think he's gonna be hiring anyone."

Barbas gave a nod and the adventuring party tromped off toward the stables. Moments later they returned, all snickering and raukus laughter. The warrior drummed the bar with his gauntlet, "Almost worth the story if we it wasn't an hour walk up this way."

"You'd be up here drinking anyway. Your lot ain't allowed to drink anywhere else," Rubin gave a wry smile. "Reckon it is our boy's fault you're up here. Round on the house for you lot. I'll have him work off the difference." Barbas gave a low chuckle rejoined his party at a corner table. The ragged scroll he'd showed Rubin was left on the bar. Many like it had been posted around La'marri in recent weeks:

Ah La'marri, home-sweet-home for Bovil. He wasn't really planning on staying for long this time though, he wanted to pick up some new arrows for his bow and maybe get started on his travels down south. He had spent some time with family and friends, but was Bovil was already on his way south. No matter where he went though, he kept seeing these little flyers that seemed to be a job of some sort. Going into the woods? Couldn't be that bad, right? Tearing the flyer off and rather carelessly stuffing it into his bag, Bovil set off for The Last Hearth.

Finally arriving after a few minutes of galloping, Bovil arrived at the bar. He carefully walked in, trying not to knock over anything with his massive lower half. Walking over to the bartender, Bovil placed the flyer on the counter and asked,"You...Ewan? That how you pronounce it?"

The main reason Bovil chose to try and take this job was simply because he was running low on coin. He had spent too much on new arrows and some food for his trip down south. Chances were, he'd probably have to use some of those newly bought arrows and eat some of that food, but he hoped the pay would be good enough to where he could afford to replace everything and still be better off than when he was about to leave. Either that, or this was all some stupid joke and Bovil had wasted daylight by coming over to this bar. If that were the case, he might just have to stay another day in La'marri. Hopefully, that wasn't what would happen.

"No, I'm Rubin. Ewan is round back," the bartender craned his neck to look up at Bovil, "Sorry to say the boy has been causing a ruckus with his signs. I reckon you'll be disappointing. But no matter; strapping lad like you could get good work on a farm." The innkeeper gave his customers a stern look and left the bar unattended, taking Bovil through the kitchens and into the stables. A small boy, dressed in tattered breeches, was busy mucking one of the stalls.

"Boy! You got a visitor. Reckon if you didn't give everyone a good laugh I'd be switching you for hassling the locals."

"Who else you gonna find to shovel shit for the privilege of sleeping on a hay bale?"

"What else is a grubby little whelp like you good for? You ain't done one spell for a supposed wizard." Rubin snarled and stalked back to the bar.

Ewan stuck his tongue out as the fa bartender disappeared, and the turned to Bovil. He grinned with excitement and reached out, with a grubby hand, to shake, "Sorry! I'm Ewan. Are you here about the job? I need- I need someone to help me get my spell book back."