Nerimazeth - Ezreal fanfiction (Clean, Cannon Version)- LoA

--- A Stranger at Zeelo's Tavern ---

(A/N - Zeelo, main character (Akeda) and a few side characters are OCs. This fanfiction will make a lot of references to cannon L.O.L. lore. It is not necessary to be very familiar with the lore to enjoy this story, but I do encourage you to visit the game's official website to learn more about their awesome universe! Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!)

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"Is anyone here a doctor?! Does anyone here know any healing magic?!"

I opened the door of a small, warmly lit Shuriman tavern to the sound of the owner yelling for help from the current patrons. There aren't many people dining or drinking in tonight, but that's not surprising. I've only visited this tavern a couple times in the past after my previous ventures into the open sands looking for forgotten tombs. I only just happened to accidentally stumble upon this place after making a wrong turn while trying to get back to the sea-border town of Kalamanda. The main part of the town is mostly overrun with other aspiring adventurers and tourists. This tavern is out of the way, so the main clients are locals, with only a rare sprinkling of travellers.

The strong wind of the current ensuing sandstorm outside slams the sturdy wooden door behind me shut with a heavy thud, causing the faux-ancient Shuriman paraphernalia hanging on the wall to rattle. The short, stout, but sweet, tavern owner, Zeelo, looks over to me with both shock and relief.

"Akeda! It's been a while! Your timing is perfect. Quick! Follow me, there's an explorer who could use your help."

I quickly follow Zeelo away from the dining portion of the building through an archway behind the bar. His large, fluffy, pointy ears stick out horizontally from either side of his head and bounce slightly as he hurriedly waddles down the narrow bhanavar-wooden corridor. Zeelo is a Yordle who, like me, decided to make a living far away from home. Unlike me, he has decided to settle down in a specific area on the sandy outskirts of Shurima, while I prefer a constant change in scenery instead. It's been quite some time since I last visited my distant homeland.

As we rounded a corner, the smell of beer and fried tubers being served in the dining hall was suddenly overpowered by the smell of iron and something sour. I quickly pulled up a part of my umber hooded cloak to cover my nose, but it didn't help much.

"He was already pale and sweaty when he stumbled in. Not sure if it was just from the blood loss or if he also picked up a nasty curse or two somewhere." There is worry with a slight hint of annoyance when Zeelo speaks. I nod in acknowledgment.

There are only a handful of small rooms for guests to use. The current foul smell is sure to deter anyone who was perhaps planning on spending an extra ha-Securis to stay the night.

Zeelo knocks courteously on the door before opening it himself. I brace myself for what awaits on the other side. The smell is more concentrated in the tiny room, and I choke. I step back into the hallway quickly and take one last breath of somewhat fresher air before stepping into the room. If it weren't for the raging sandstorm I would throw open a window right now.

"Please, do your best. Let me know if you still have an appetite once you are finished." Zeelo says with a hesitant smile before shutting the door, trapping the rancid air in with me. I hear the pitter patter of him rushing back down the corridor towards the bar.

It's a small room containing only the necessities. There's a tiny dresser, a wooden chair, a square side table with a drawer and lamp, a small bed, a pail (probably vomit-filled), as well as the few torn up belongings of the person lying in the bed.

I can hear them groaning in discomfort. I move closer to the bedside. Wincing in pain, on blood and sweat-soaked sheets, is a shirtless man. He has dirty blond hair, matted with the leftovers of whatever tomb he just came from. He also has badly-bandaged wounds on his abdomen and right shoulder. There is already red seeping through the once-white cloth. This must have been the handy work of Zeelo. Although not well done, it surprisingly seems to have been enough to keep the man alive until now.