Eastwick Adventurer

It was a damp, soggy kind of a day when the adventurer trudged into the seaside village of Eastwick. Eastwick was a bit of a nothing village by all measures, with only about 100 people. They fished, they farmed, they kept to themselves except in Spring when they’d haul their goods off to market in the closest town, about two days away by horse and cart.

An adventurer coming to visit was about the biggest news they’d had in the last 6 months. It was, after all, quite a long time since spring. A little girl peeped out of her window and stared down at the traveller who was making a line down what constituted as their main street. The traveller seemed tall, and their face was covered by a cloak - presumably to fend off the rain. It was hard to tell if the person was a man or a woman, but they had a large pack on their back, and what looked like a bow within reach. What could not be seen from the window, as it was hidden by the cloak, was that the traveller also had a sword attached to their hip.

The little girl went to inform her mother of the news, leaving her post by the window when the newcomer stepped out of view. The adventurer meanwhile, finished their walk to the pub - the closest thing they had to an inn.

Eastwick wouldn’t have been their first choice of destination, but a promise had been made and an adventurer’s word is their bond. Once given, the oath is struck and few dare to chance the repercussions of such blood magic. A hand reached for the door of the pub, and the adventurer paused for a single moment as their eyes landed on the symbol on their hand. The magic symbol of the Adventurers League.

The bar-keeper looked up as a cloaked figure swung open the door. It was quite the sight. It had been raining on and off all day, and it was currently on. The figure dripped water onto the floor as they crossed to the bar, and the barkeep - a chap by the name of Bertram, took in the sight of the bow on the strangers back, and sword at their side. He would never admit it to the wife, but he was a little intimidated.

“What’ll it be?” he asked the stranger.

“I need food, and lodging for one night - maybe more,” the stranger said and pulled off their hood to reveal a man. His voice was slightly gruff, and he had frown lines around his eyes that made him seem older than he might have been. He had a short scar above one eyebrow, and a nose like it had been punched and then set back in place. In short, the sort of face that if Bertram could have described what he was expecting when the man walked it - the description would have been close to life.

“I’m afraid our lodgings aren’t much to get excited about, mostly they’re used by the fishing boys when they drink too much to get home, but if all you’re needing is a warm room and a bed then that’s what we can offer.”

“That’ll do, how much?” the man asked, before he took off his wet pack and walked towards the fire on the left of the room. Bertram walked for a moment as the man grabbed a couple of chairs, and placed his pack and cloak in front of the fire to dry.

The act of removing his cloak revealed his sword. Bertram owned a sword, he wasn’t a silly man. On his way to and from town he needed to have it, but he was not comfortable with the weapon, and his wife often informed him that he’d probably be better off without it - in case anyone mistook him for an actual threat. The man standing by the fire however, looked at ease with the longsword attached to his hip. He looked up when Bertram didn’t reply.

“Ah,” Bertram coughed, “It’ll be 2 silver Gran for your lodging, and 2 for the food and drinks,”

“You should charge more,” the man walked up to the bar and dropped the four silver Gran on the bench. Bertram couldn’t quite figure if the man was being sarcastic, but he was distracted at the sight of the stranger’s hand. He knew that mark. He’d seen it before in town.

“You’re one of them Adventurer people aren’t you?”

“I’m surprised you recognise the mark so quickly, not many do this far out,” despite the gruffness of his voice - the man’s face softened for the briefest moment, seemingly impressed.

“There used to be a woman in town who worked with one of my suppliers - several winters ago. Said she was there to fulfil her duty. Nice lady, was sad to see her go.”

The Adventurer made a non-commital noise.

“What’s your name?” Bertram asked.

“Vigir,” said the Adventurer.

“Right, Vigir. I’m Bertram. You sit down, and I’ll go fetch you a meal. If the wife appears, don’t let her scare you,” Bertram shot him a grin and then disappeared out a door behind the bar in search of food.

Vigir moved back towards the fireplace. He’d spent the last four days walking from the nearby town of Dorset, and the whole trip had been a damp affair - the heat of the fire was a welcome change.

He checked his coat - still wet. His bag was the same, though some of the contents had survived the weather. He would however, need to resupply. Probably something to do before he fulfilled his duty here, on the off chance he needed to make a speedy exit from the town.

He’d just sat down when Bertram returned with a plate of food and a large ale.

“Nothing fancy, but it’s good food,” Bertram said. Vigir had to agree it did smell good. “Ale isn’t bad either. We brew it ourselves.”

Vigir nodded his thanks, and Bertram left him to his meal.

“I’ll be in the back room for a little while, yell if you need anything.”

Vigir smiled to himself. The man was clearly very curious, but hadn’t pushed for any information. It wasn’t often Vigir encountered such a bar keeper. He’d spent a lot of time travelling in the last ten years, and often curiosity got the best of people.

Despite the fact that Bertram wasn’t expecting many people that evening, on account of the weather - quite a few people came to dinner. Not long after the arrival of Vigir. He suspected that the two were not unrelated. Fortunately for the locals, Vigir stayed for a few hours in the common room. He had a couple of drinks, ate quite a lot and stayed close to the fire while his clothes dried. He didn’t speak to anyone and no one approached him, but there was a distinct feeling that Vigir was rather like a creature on display. He would give the locals something to talk about for at least the next month.

A few hours into the evening, Vigir gathered his belongings. He’d had enough of the stares for one night, and his clothes were fairly dry. It was enough for the time being. An older, portly woman who had been serving the other guests appeared by his side.

“I shall direct you to your room, Bertram had me give you the room with the fireplace.”

“He should charge more,” Vigir said gruffly to the lady. Food, ale and board in the city would be around 6-8 silver Gran.”

“We don’t got a lot out here, as long as we keep this place running we don’t care but if you want to pay us more - be my guest.”

Vigir let himself be lead to his room. It wasn’t large, and the lit fireplace in the room was small, but it was all he needed.

“You be needing anything else?”

Vigir paused for a moment before asking a question. He suspected that it would be town news in the time it took the lady to walk back to the common room.

“Is there someone related to a Don’ld Ceho in town?”

He watched her face twitch. It was a good sign, he was clearly in the right village.

“What you want with them?” she asked, “They’re good people who’ve been through a lot.”

“I am aware,” Vigir dodged her question. “I’m here to pay them a visit.”

The woman waited and frowned for a moment, clearly hoping for more information but Vigir had faced tougher battles than one of wills with a bar-keepers’ wife and he remained silent.

“I suppose you’ll just go knocking on every door in the village ’til you find the right one if I don’t tell you,” she concluded with a sigh. Vigir remained impassive, giving nothing away.

“House down the lane closest to the water. They’ve got a god-awful statue of a bird on the porch, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Vigir inclined his head in a slight bow.

“Don’t you be causing trouble! Otherwise I’ll set my Bertram on you!” she threatened before walking out. Vigir smiled to himself once the lady was gone. He seriously doubted that the bar keeper would be much of an adversary, but the sentiment rang true. He suspected however, that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the trouble the woman was so against.

Village’s like this were common, and Virgir had come across similar sentiments in almost all of them. The people who lived so far away from the hubbub of city life were content to keep it that way. However, it seemed that at least for Eastwick - the city had come looking for them.