Two Become One

[The Phoenix]

Closed to Gale and Inferno

Cydnar and Dalasi had been the Elisdrasil’s first choice. Though the Hummel brothers had very different natures, their racial unity and familial ties made them the optimal candidates. Unfortunately, while most often a benefit to Elisdrasil, their unity worked against Phoenix Ascendant’s beleaguered leader in this instance. The pair had left for Carromack Cross only days ago on another matter of guild business and, as far as he knew, weren’t expected back for some time. The loss of so perfect a pair for this assignment was frustrating, but Elisdrasil was determined not to let it stifle the opportunity that had been presented to him.

Steeling himself for the task, Elisdrasil lit a fresh honey-scented candle and grabbed a thick sheaf of papers from his escritoire. The papers were in complete disarray, something that he’d been meaning to attend to for quite some time. Sadly, his organizational skills had suffered somewhat as of late, another victim of Phoenix Ascendant’s war efforts and the fame that it had brought them. As a result, Elisdrasil was frustrated to find that many of the papers were woefully out of date, referencing names and skill sets for dozens of guild members whose names now adorned the bronze plaque in Boomtown’s reading room. It was a plaque commemorating the members of the guild who had given their lives during the Ixian War of Aggression.

Three hours and two dozen memberships later, Elisdrasil slid the remaining pile aside with a sigh, a pile which seemed to have grown no smaller despite the headway that he had made, and leaned back in his chair. While not exactly exciting, he’d found that properly maintained paperwork was essential to keep an organization running smoothly. Sadly, the constant influx meant that he could probably spend the rest of his life hacking away at the pile and never achieve an end to it all.

Well that explains why so many generals are fat, he thought, snorting lightly at his own humor.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get any more work done that evening, at least not for a while, Elisdrasil pushed his chair back and stood. His sore muscles protested the sudden movement but it was the hollow pang in his stomach that got Elisdrasil’s attention. His eyes fell regretfully on the bowl of spiced lamb and tomato soup that Ellie had brought before the sun had dropped below the sky. A crust had formed across the top of the untouched bowl, and had he been hungry enough to scrape it off he was almost certain that he would find the rest of the soup coagulated into a distasteful paste beneath it. Neither Tickers nor Boom-Boom were renowned for their spartan, healthful cooking.

Pushing the bowl aside with a distasteful frown, Elisdrasil settled instead for the earthen wine pitcher that had come up with it. What they lacked in culinary grace, the gnome brothers made up for in their knowledge of spirits. Elisdrasil poured himself a cup of the spiced red and took it over to the window. He leaned against the window for several minutes, sipping at his wine and watching the sleepy, night shrouded streets of Vorsport. None of the guild members that he had looked at over the past few hours had come close to matching the unified qualities that the Yrene’s had. The window of opportunity for this particular endeavor was quickly closing, and while the incident wouldn’t become threatening if left unresolved, this was just the sort of thing that Elisdrasil needed to break him out of his slump. If only he could find the right pair to accompany him...

Elisdrasil’s eyes settled on one of the torch lamps which lines Vorsport’s Main Street. The flickering of the torch’s flame caused a tickling in his brain, a sense of familiarity which, if he could only remember what it was, would solve his problem. He struggled with the recollection for several minutes before dropping it, realizing that it was a futile effort. pass. Sighing, Elisdrasil finished his wine and headed back for the pitcher to refill it, wistfully wishing that he had drank it while it was still iced.

The spark of memory flashed again as he thought. Elisdrasil stared off into the recesses of his room for a moment before absentmindedly putting the wine cup down and rushing to the pile of papers. He rifled through them quickly, pushing notices and applications aside until he found what he was looking for.

Duncan and Elaine Gambit, he mused, scanning the paperwork. Married, Concordian natives, fire and ice magic. Joined Phoenix Ascendant early on and both survived the war.

“Opposites yet unified,” he muttered, the corners of his lips curling in a knowing smile. Elisdrasil had found the pair that he needed.

[Inferno]

Elaine watched her husband Duncan lift the barrel of ale up to his shoulder, a breath of exertion leaving his lips as he carried it out of the back room to the front of Boomtown, the resident bar and home of the Phoenix Ascension. Now that the war with the Ixian Knights had ended times for the mercenary group were beginning to normalize, which meant that money that was once lucrative was no longer lucrative.

Assigned in the war to watch over an orphanage from impending danger, Elaine and Duncan Gambit had seen no fighting at all from the war, and so had collected pay checks that they thought would be more in price when the battling was over. The owners of Boomtown allowed the couple to open a tab, run it as high as they wanted knowing they would pay up. So it was Elaine and Duncan stayed at the Bar’s attached Inn, and ate there for breakfast and lunch. Well, when the coffer arrived and the pay master called their names they received very misfortunate news:

The first bit of news was that since they were married, the army of the Imperials saw to it that Duncan was primary and his wife was secondary. This took a moment to explain to the hot headed woman, who was confused from the start. Apparently, as husband and wife, they were considered to be one pay grade, with the Primary getting the funds, and the secondary getting the funds should, gods forbid, Duncan perish. It was enough to make her screech with rage, her inferno like temper hitting the boiling point, but the always calm and cool husband she adored merely rubbed her back and mentioned that while they wouldn’t be living it up, at least one was enough to cover their tab.

That was when the second news hit. According to the pay master Duncan Gambit was not a certified soldier and so his pay package was downgraded to what they quantified as Sell Sword. That was the Empire’s way of saying you were the bottom of the barrel. Their pay for their efforts in the war amounted to a measly sixteen gold coins. Split between the two, plus tax, and account for war damages (whatever the hell that meant, Elaine muttered sourly) and they made a mighty four gold coins profit.

So, stuck with the raw end of the deal and nothing they could do about it, Duncan put on a cheery smile, approached the Boomtown owners, and handed them the four coins and mentioned he would work the rest off if that was acceptable. They agreed with no complaints, glad to have extra help during the busy season of the wars end. Elaine felt horrible to let Duncan do all the work, and so she cashed in her own services to help pay off the debt.

If one wondered what they owed, it was somewhere around the high three hundred range. The work they did amounted to, combined, four gold coins a day. Keeping in the cost of living, and the net profit the two made was enough to cover one meal a day each, the room they shared, and pay off one gold coin a day. Elaine supposed in the grand scheme of things life could be much worse, hearing rumors the Cult of Blessed Torture was acting up again and knowing full well that fate was not one she cared for. No, in the end, she was with Duncan, and that was enough for the lovers.

With a grunt of exertion, Duncan lowered the ale barrel, and with a sheepish grin Elaine quickly moved forwards and inserted the cork popper. Duncan rolled along his fingers a spigot for pouring the drinks and with a team effort the booze flowed freely once more. Cheers erupted from the nearest patrons as Elaine quickly grabbed tall glasses, and Duncan took them, using his connection with Ice Magic to chill the cups as the liquid bourbon was poured. She would pass them out, wink to the male guests, smile warmly to the female, and giggle with the couples as she ran the back bar area flawlessly with her love.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Duncan whispered into her ear. Elaine let her lips pull into a tight smile, leaning back into Duncan who gripped one hand around her shoulders, kissing her head softly pushing her bandanna off to a skewed angle. His other hand reached for an empty glass as Elaine lifted a wet rag into it, beginning the pre-wash as she twirled to face him, kissing his cheek as deposited the dirty mug into the vision slot that led to the kitchens.

“Hey Levi, got another!” Elaine shouted to the little roguish man. Levi, much like Duncan and Elaine, was a poor casualty of the war’s ever difficult to understand mercenary policy. He ran a tab that tripled the couples, but like them he worked in the Bar to pay off his tab. There was another accomplice to their group of dead beats, Lhunara, but she was off waitressing the tables on the floor. She had a knack for it, and was capable of remembering people’s orders where Elaine was friendly, but forgetful.

“Got it!” Levi said strolling over and scooping up the mugs to take to the wash basin. “These people are going to drink until the dolphins come home,” he observed. Elaine giggled at the man’s rather poor ability to use good old fashioned colloquiums correctly. Duncan muttered he was the butcher of jokes, and Lhunara mentioned he was the Rake. Confused she explained it was a tool to get terrible comedians off the stage when they didn’t understand their time had come.

Elaine thought he was funny anyway.

She turned to see Lhunara lift a plate down on the bar in the corner, smiling to her with a knowing look as she walked off, and Duncan already was tossing his apron off as Elaine skipped next to him to quickly devour their food. As understanding and generous as their employers were, they didn’t like down time behind the bar. They said a quick prayer to the Thaynes, smiled to one another, and reached for the same fork at the exact moment. Elaine’s tiny hand was easily pushed aside, where she hit a cup of water spilling the drink, which more flew than spilled. The contents of the drink landed square on the chest of a rather well dressed and polite elf, a white mask on his hip getting wet as he took a step back and looked to the damage.

“OH MY!” Elaine shouted. “I am so sorry,” she stammered climbing on the bar with her rag reaching out to dry the man off.