Scribbles and Drabbles

An Obedient Partner

Ghost was a legend. A 'Fixer', the guy people called to deal with problems and make them disappear. Elorshin heard stories and whispers about him in taverns along the coast. A mystery that people weren't entirely true was real.

A flicker in the light, something glinted in the firelight as the man appeared out of the gloom. Silent despite the rocks under his feet and the water dripping under down in the tunnel. He reached to wake his companions, but a sword was at his neck. The black blade pressed against his skin, not quite slicing but sharp enough that he knew the man could quickly dispatch him. He froze in place.

A finger waggled. Elorshin swallowed, just looking up at the myth. Black armour covered the man, elements of it distinctly insect hide which revealed his heritage faster than his colouring. Only one race made armour like that. The Ghost's face was half-covered by a black cloth, the upper half shadowed by a dark hood but Elorshin could see beyond it. Dusky skin, purple eyes, black hair, the Ghost was a Tenebrae Elf. Those eyes glittered as they met.

A moment of uncertainly spaced behind them as the Ghost looked over each sleeping person around them before nodding. The sword left his neck and was stored away. Not that it meant much, Elorshin could see the dangers littering his hips, close enough that the Ghost could split his throat before he could know. Between the double blades and the daggers, Elorshin could see why his man was able to survive down here on his own.

Shifting, the ghost leaned down to pluck Elorshin's water-skin from his side. Elorshin flushed as the man took a deep drink before dropping it back on at the ground by his feet.

A hand tapped the cloth mask where his nose was before the man gone in the darkness again. Elorshin's heartbeat was practically shaking his entire body. He stood and looked around but found no traces. And that was that. When they were ready to move again, Elorshin's sight whispered to him. The threads of fate spiralled uncalled and yanked him from the present and to the past.

The sight of the Ghost slaughtering a set of monsters flashed through him. The sight of their campfire glittering far out of view. He swallowed again as one of his companions asked that the matter was. The Ghost had saved them?

It wasn't until they had found the miners and escaped back to the surface that he noticed his coin purse was gone. In its place was a stone coin with an insignia carved on it. Elorshin clutched it tightly before hiding it from view. The save had not been without a price. The Ghost collected favours, and he always called upon them later. What the Ghost thought someone like him could do was debatable. Then again, adventurers tended to end up in strange situations.

Luckily they were paid well for saving the missing miners, the new coins hidden around Elorshin's body this time. Their druid sealed the entrance to the cave to prevent anyone else going down out of curiosity. If someone wanted to mine, they would have to decide to do so.

The next time Elorshin saw the man, he was drunk. The dwarf had challenged him to a drinking contest to see how well his elven blood would stand up against stout folk. Reluctantly, he had joined. And lost, but one of the humans had been the first to fall. The world spinning and stumbling outside, Elorshin leant against the outside of the tavern and watched the night streets as the cold air hit his lungs.

"Beautiful night," a voice murmured next to him.

Elorshin flinched as a cold blade rested on his shoulder. He wasn't wearing his armour. It had been a few weeks since the last job. Over a month since he had gained the token. "Nice change of pace after the rain we've had recently," he said, words soft.

"Summer is coming," the blade moved, and a hand tugged at his elbow. Elorshin followed the hand, letting the Ghost pull him into an alleyway, not entirely sure a dagger wasn't about to gut him but knowing better than to fight. He could not see the future, but the past came willingly; flashes of what could have happened alongside side what did. Drinking always made it hard to tell what was real, but nothing was hurting, yet. "You have been drinking."