Author's Note: Don't own, don't sue. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is a coincidence and should be taken as such. Bast is an original character, and may not be used by anyone else.
"By the way, you may call me Elaith Craulnober."
At that statement, said in a voice just asking for some form of shock, Bast visibly paled. He, however, said nothing, and continued on his way out of the suddenly far too warm interview room. Once he was out and the door safely shut, he leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly. THE Elaith Craulnober? His joy at still having his life increased tenfold.
Being still new to the Waterdeep, he hadn't heard all the tales about the elf that were around, but he had heard some. He'd heard enough, definitely, to be terrified of crossing paths with the ruthless killer. And here he was, working for him? He groaned. What bad luck...But it wasn't he could just up and quit now, he rationalized, so best to make the most of it.
Making his way to the baths, he tried to wrap his head around his new life in the city. He peeked his head in, and sighed in relief at seeing no one else there. He quietly locked the door and slipped out of his well-worn clothes. Folding them neatly, he slid into the scalding hot water.
He sunk down to his chin, relishing the warmth. He could almost feel the dirt and grime of the past few weeks dissolving into the sweetly scented water. What was that, honeysuckle? Something light and lingering like that. Bast let the steam clear his head, giving him room to think about these past developments.
Two weeks ago, he'd been like any other boy his age, helping his parents with their farm work. Now, he was without parents, without friends, and without a home. He'd traveled to Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, with a passing caravan. Foolishly, he supposed, Bast had expected someone to reach out a hand of help to him. The cold blade and harsh words of his elven employer were, so far, the best he'd gotten.
Closing his bright amber eyes, he pulled his hat off and let his hair fall to the water. The silvery-blue locks shone in the clear water. His callused hands cupped and splashed some on his face, and he sunk down further to wash his hair. He rubbed the slippery bar over his head, scrubbing well to get rid of knots and tangles. When he resurfaced, his hair lay straight and smooth over his well formed back, lean and well-muscled from hard work, though slightly underweight.
Once his hair was clean, he stood up and rubbed the soap over the rest of his body, grateful to be rid of the sweat and grime. Sitting down to rinse, Bast contemplated his new job. He'd never really done anything but tend a small garden and herd the small hill goats his parents raised for milk. Something like this, though, serving meals and tending drinks and catering to other people, other customers. It felt a little overwhelmed to the young man.
He stood up and rubbed himself dry with one of the soft towels provided near the baths. He supposed there was another employee who took care of the laundry. Looking around, he dropped his towel in the woven basket he found, and re-dressed in the clothes he came in. They were fairly clean, he'd found a quick stream on his way to the city. It'd been far too cold to wash in, coming down from the high mountains, but was suitable for rinsing his clothes.
Bast held his hat in his hands, unsure of himself. The elf had expressly told him not to wear it, but he'd scarcely gone a day without it since he'd been born. He would feel beyond odd, overly exposed, without it. Sighing in resignation, he realised he had little choice if he wanted to keep his job. Folding it up and shoving it roughly into his small travel bag, he began combing through his hair. He settled for smoothing it over his ears and around his face carefully.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened his narrow shoulders, lifted his head up, and walked out of the baths and into the main room of the Tavern.
He gulped when he realised how many people were there. Men and women of all races sat around tables, behind curtained booths, and on high stools at the bar. He nearly gasped when he glanced at a man that so closely resembled an orc, he could have rolled out from under a mountain. In addition to this strange new sight were gnomes, a pair of dwarves, many humans of all colours, a handful of elves, and even a hugely tall being who resembled an upright lizard.
He was fighting to keep his eyes from widening out of his skull when he heard a gruff bark in his direction. He whipped his head around, and saw the barkeep motioning to him. He was a big man, more than double Bast's width and almost two and a half feet taller than him. When he finally was standing beside him, Bast had to strain his neck to look the other in the face.
"You the new boy? Lord Craulnober said ye'd be startin' tonight." His voice was as big as his stature, gravelly and rough. A well-chewed wooden toothpick was clamped between an impressive set of teeth, and hands worked mechanically wiping the bar.
"Er, yes, sir." A barking laugh was the only response. "Um, sir?"
"It's nothin', nothin. You don't need to be callin' me sir, laddy. The only sir around here is Master Craulnober, what hired you. You can be callin' me Ulbert. Now that table there wants a refill of ale. Be grabbin' that jug and go and pour it, as well as any others along the ways. Ye know yer numbers?"
"Up to fifty, sir. Er, Ulbert." Bast was proud of this fact. He could count well, for someone of his upbringing. He also knew all of the letters in the common tongue, though he couldn't make many words. Growing up in a tiny village minding goats and beans, this was a large accomplishment.
"Right, well keep track of how many drinks each person has, so they can pay the right amount at the end of the night."
Bast nodded his head, unintentionally shifting his hair from where it had been placed. Without his knowledge, else he would never have moved so, his long, elegantly pointed ears became clearly visible.
"Ah, so that's why the master hired you! I didn't know you was an elf!"
