First Day On the Job (Part 2)
Not long after, a crowd of people had gathered inside the Twin Moons Tavern, on the western edge of town. It was a diverse group: farmers, merchants, carpenters, anglers; a motley assemblage representing all walks of life from rural Britannia. They had left Vesper some months earlier, just before winter. Many had lost homes and family members while fleeing the floodwaters that ravaged the city in the wake of the Titan attacks. Now, they had found a new place to stake their claim.
The tavern was simply adorned appeared more functional than luxurious. While the group had assembled amongst the tables and chairs in the common area, a man across the bar stood apart. His olive skin and fine clothing betrayed his foreign origins. Gem-studded earrings lined the perimeter of his earlobes, and each ear carried a small silver hoop. His short, rounded nose was accentuated with a silver hoop in the left nostril. He was small in stature yet maintained a fierce and somber expression as he listened to the crowd. Occasionally, he would let out a sigh or suck air through his teeth; his frustration was apparent.
The man’s name was Tethran Tarm and he was the proprietor of the Twin Moons. Tethran was the first to buy land in the area after the floods. His trading operation, in which he had invested most of his savings, was washed away when the waters took the docks. What had started out as a small shack next to the coast has now erupted into a small village, bustling with life. As the village’s founder and first citizen, Tethran was looked to as the unofficial leader; a position he had no interest in.
The wolf attack and death of Simon Carr’s son had shook the small community. They had managed their growing pains well thus far and this was the first true loss they had suffered. All the major families were present; the Vandevics, Carrs, Rhosdens, and Bellows all made a full showing, save for Hadrian, who was still being treated for his wounds. The discussion had escalated into arguing about fifteen minutes ago and showed no signs of slowing down.
Tethran appeared to be listening intently, but truly, he was lost in thought. He had a bottle of wine and a full pipe waiting for him underneath the bar. As the shouting match drug on, his eyes began to glaze over as he pictured the intricate, flowery border of the wine’s label. Finally, a voice cut through the others and caught his attention.
“Simon’s boy is feckin’ dead and we’re sittin’ here arguing! We need to go kill the sumbeetchin’ beast before it gets anyone else!”
Another voice rose up, this one louder.
“We sent out the hunters! What more do you want!? You want to write the King?”
Tethran rolled his eyes. “They’re acting like children”, he thought. The first voice shot back, increasing in volume..
“Well why aren’t YOU out there!? The beast is UNNATURAL, you should be out there too!”
Again, the second voice replied, matching the intensity of
the first.
“And why the feck aren’t YOU!?
As a slight headache started to creep its way from the back of his neck to his temples, Tethran drew in a deep breath. He lifted both hands and clenched his fists, smashing them down on the bar in front of him. The loud thud shook the plates, mugs, and goblets that sat on the bar and brought the tavern to a silence.
“Enough”, Tethran said calmly, but sternly. The glaze had faded and a certain fierceness overtook him again. Now that the shouting had stopped, he could clearly be heard.
“We’ll put out a call. Hire some adventurers to hunt the wolves down. I’ll put up the gold. Saddle one of the horses and get someone ready to ride, we’ll put up a notice in Vesper and spread it from there. Go. Get it done, I’ll write up the notice.”
Without question, the villagers seemed to accept his solution. Tethran knew that they were grieving and needed someone to focus them. The hall slowly cleared out and Tethran came out from behind the bar, heading toward the stairs to the second floor.
He paused for a moment, then retraced his steps behind the bar and reached underneath it where he had been standing. He again made his way upstairs, with pen, parchment, bottle, and pipe in hand.