A Deal's Struck

Tharivol felt shattered, left in a near empty town. The party hesitated, called his name but he remained sat there. His head throbbed; dread they think how they would have been one of these numbers if they didn’t snap out of it.
Bodies have never bothered them before. He doesn’t know any of them, but he feels guilt in having not saved them. Then he’s one of them, one of those bodies and his mind it’s gone.
He jolts back into consciousness, cursing his decision to sleep rather than meditate. He hoped that it would clear his thoughts of that day at the church, but it didn’t work, those nightmares just keep plaguing them. Glancing around the rest of the party is already gone, probably eating breakfast, celebrating their victory, but it doesn’t feel like one, not to Tharivol.
Any faith he had left in any of those gods, any of those beings who demand worship is gone. He had little in the first place, if there was anyone looking over him, surly he’d be able to remember his family more than one fleeting thought. They’re nothing more than selfish.
He heads to the table, everyone chatting loudly, slides into the seat besides Vola, and eats in silence, it feels like they don’t even notice him there.

They’re done, it’s time to move on with their adventure, head to the next place, but Tharivol hesitates. He pauses and hangs back, this is noticed, Makaria comes to his side, asks what’s wrong. They try to shake it off, they’re fine, just exhausted still from what happened at the church, though he can barely say the word, it feels toxic as it leaves his lips. Makaria seems doubtful, but shrugs it off as Tharivol refuses to expand on his words, heading back forward to the rest of the group, all laughing. Tharivol felt like one of them once, but maybe there’s some lasting affects to what happened to him then he thought, not that he really knows what it was.
The feeling doesn’t leave, and when they get to the next town Tharivol pauses. His heart feels heavy, a lump in his throat builds. It feels like something that he’s done before and didn’t want to do again.
They all gather around in the tavern, when he speaks up,
“I’m going to leave.” His words come out sharp and all eyes are on him. “It’s not you guys, I just, I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.” Then he leaves.
He doesn’t want a proper goodbye; he wouldn’t be able to cope with that he knows it. Saying those words feels final, like going back to see if there was a body or not, and it’s not something they want to do. No one follows him. That is something he takes note of.

It's not as hard as it was the first time, they have more money this time after all. But he’d gotten used to someone checking his back, gotten used to someone being able to act as the shield, the general chatter. He says he doesn’t miss it, but when he allows his thoughts to linger Tharivol’s eyes water. He does things he didn’t want to do anymore, becomes nothing more than a hand for hire, but always steers clear of anything with some form of religious bias, he gives all churches a wide birth.
The routine is the same, and becomes monotonous, steal this, kill them – he knows his skills are being wasted. He’s not even slightly proud of any of what he does now. The coins pay less than an adventurer, the work more underhanded with little praise, it feels like a chain is being tied to him. Entering taverns gives him whispers, people holding their things closer, tavern keepers less friendly, and he realises he can’t remember the last time he smiled. Didn’t realise how much smiling had meant to him, you really don’t miss things until after they’re gone. He still hears word of them, that party which he left, they seem to be doing good, in their own slightly chaotic way however. He misses the chaos, and he can’t believe he’s admitting that.

He knows when he’s being watched, and picks up on it the second it happens. He can’t see them in the shadows, but he can defiantly feel them, eyes baring down on him. While they seem non-malicious, he continues on with his work. The night it comes to a head, he’s sitting bored on a roof top, the target just won’t move to the edge of the party, sure he could shoot them from there but it’s higher risk, and the pays not worth it. The pays not really worth any of this. His bow rests under his fingers, the slight necrotic air to it comforting after so long. This is until he can sense that he’s being watched again, but he’s no prey. They keep their body relaxed and focused on the target; he does not need them to know that he knows.
“Why waste yourself on menial tasks? They are below you.” The voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, and Tharivol can hear it reverberate at the back of his skull. He doesn’t move, and lets out a puff of air.
“I need supplies to live, this is the way I do it.” He’s not sure who or what is talking to him, but he doesn’t want that to give them an upper hand.
“I can provide them to you…” Its voice licks his ears and they twitch. “I see you like the sound of that. Why don’t you look at me as I talk?” It says again. Tharivol’s hand remains laid on the bow, before he briefly closes his eyes and then spins, taking a step closer to the centre of the roof. Curiosity over takes, the target isn’t going anywhere and as he said, they’re not getting paid well for this, they might as well listen.
Tharivol can’t work out what he’s looking at, be it archfae, fiend or even celestial, he's seen nothing like it before, nor even tales of something like it. What he does know, is now he needs to think his words through carefully, they are getting tricked into nothing.
“And how can you provide that? I don’t have a good track record with those who worship beings who see themselves as above us.” He is still Tharivol, he’s not thinking his words too carefully, however the entity laughs.
“I do not require worship, I require a being of your skills, Tharivol. I know that you’ve known I’ve been watching you closer, I need someone who can act on this plane while I cannot.” It shifts and gets closer.
“And what would I get out of it, I doubt you pay in gold.” His eyes narrow, and the being blinks back from more eyes then seems right.
“That is true, I simply need a yes and we can think about that deal, Tharivol my dear, though I’d like to think this more through as a partnership.”
This time Tharivol laughs, he may not know what this being is, but he does know it is far more powerful than he is.
“I am not naïve, I know a trick when I see one.”
“Fine, I respect that you do not trust me, but I have no malicious intentions, at least not to you. Why don’t I bestow upon you a gift, no catch to it, to show that I would simply view you as my equal acting while I cannot.” It states and knows it’s caught Tharivol’s interest. “Your memories, that family you know are there but cannot drag out of the blur.” It states.
Tharivol moves almost instantly, bow up and drawn, arrow imbued and pointed directly at the creature’s face.
“I am not naïve!” Tharivol snarls, hand shaking slightly as he holds the string taught. He elects to ignore the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes at just the thought, there is no such thing as a gift with a creature like this, just a lure, an owed over your head.
He does get a reaction from the creature like they expected, it takes a step back, a couple of the eyes disappearing. As if in thought it leans forward.
“Go ahead, shoot. I will force no deal upon you, but I can offer you whatever you wish Tharivol and my wishes for you will hardly change from this day-by-day routine you’re already stuck in, I will simply break your chains. I will give you purpose and a view into the grander game.”
Tharivol’s not sure what makes him change, impulsivity or maybe the death wish he knows he’s been harbouring for longer than they want to think about. He turns, turns his back upon the being – something that would be called a bad move no matter what it is, bow still pulled taut and narrows his eyes, focusing in on the target and then let’s go. He watches just long enough to ensure the screams signify the right person was hit before his shaking arms allow the bow to drop, and he turns back to the other being.
No more words are said, it’s clear the choice Tharivol has made as he takes a slightly shaky step closer, though he tries to shrug it off, the adrenaline is coming down now, and the thing reaches out with one of its massive hands. It comes to rest on Tharivol’s side, seemingly in a semi-comforting way as it leans in close. Tharivol expects to feel afraid, it would be a normal reaction, but he does not.
“You’ve made the right choice for both of us, welcome partner.” Tharivol’s vision begins to slip, his knees give way into the creature’s hand, and suddenly his mind feels so full. Bright smiles and faces he had begged to remember, and he sleeps, sleeps better than he ever has before. Not cast by Nightmares nor even dreams, but rather those desperate memories from the time he longed to go back to. It doesn’t even occur to his body that they are leaving him prone to this creature they still do not know the origin of, that they have just made a deal with.

He awakens the next day in his tavern room, bow tucked under the bed as it always is, as if it has been placed by his own hand, but he knows that cannot be true.
New cloths lay beside his backpack, and what seems to be a simple note, written in Thieves’ Cant, it’s time for him to get his final payment and get ready for his new life. The cloths are nice, nicer than something he’s worn in a long time, and the colours are different, he’s hesitant to wear them but once on he wishes to never go back.
As he shoulders his bow it feels like something shifts and Tharivol can feel a pair of eyes on him, but there is nothing to fear. He’s got eyes covering his back again, someone to talk to and he feels no fear. There’s something in his step and he smiles to the tavern owner as they bid her farewell.