Chaos Bleeds

Fate's Night

“What are you doing here?” Amara wishes she had asked Erika for a little bit more detail about her character's backstory. But that’s not how she likes to GM. Players often change their backstory, adding details or changing them as the campaign progresses and they try to align their stories with those of the other players. Asking for too many details at the start can limit the role playing opportunities or lead the story into a dead end or unsatisfactory conclusion.

“I’m here with an offer for you, Night Bitch.” The voice is Erika’s. It is definitely Erika’s. But it has an accent, once Amara can’t place. One she has never heard before. But it’s still Erika’s voice, and it’s hard to remind herself that the person in front of her isn’t her best friend since college.

She and Erika had been assigned randomly as roommates their freshman year and had stayed roommates throughout the rest of college. Erika had studied marketing and communications, taking a part time job at the college radio station during the nights. Amara had spent many evenings and nights studying in the radio station, keeping Erika company, grabbing her water or snacks when needed.

They’d flirted, a little. Made out once or twice. But Erika, while nominally bi, was more aro than anything and preferred an unpartnered life. It had been amusing for the last year watching Erika role play a slow-burn romance with Aislinn.

Aislinn. No. Can’t think of her now.

But at the same time, the name Aislinn has no meaning, and the memories seem out of place.

“And what would that be?” She puts the cold mask back on and reminds herself she needs to pretend to be cruel and heartless if she’s to survive in her new life. No, she is cruel. She is heartless. And this has always been her life.

Shayn laughs, head thrown back, mouth wide, chest heaving as she laughs. In lore, Wild Elves are usually chaotic neutral, some might be chaotic good, but almost all of them are more aligned with nature than with morality. Many players prefer playing Wild Elves as druids, but rangers and some flavors of sorcerer often went well with the lore, too. And Erika had always played up the chaotic aspect of her ranger.

But Amara reminds herself again that it’s not her friend in front of her.

No, this ranger never has been her friend. And neither is this Erika.

“I came here to offer you death, of course.” The ranger lets out one last laugh. “A quick one, since you’ve been so hospitable to me so far. But if you give me the item I desire without a fuss, I will consider letting you live.”

Amara glances over her shoulders again, leaning back against the cold stone walls and making sure the guards truly are gone. This might be her only chance to get Shayn on her side. She needs to find Aislinn. Shayn will lead her to Aislinn. Whether that’s now or in five years. And she will need all of her friends—Shayn, Kelodessia, Elyone, and Illisar—if she is to re-write her own fate and make sure Tollith does not win. “Ah. But I can offer you something better. I can offer you life. A good one. With me. At my side.”

“A life in the dark of night is no life at all. If I cannot have your death, I would rather have my own.”

Amara rolls her eyes. “Listen. The guards? They can’t hear us speaking, but they can hear when someone screams. And if you don’t start screaming soon, I’ll give you a reason to. So start screaming. It’s what they’re expecting.”

The wild elf laughs. “What kind of trick is this? Is this part of some mind trick? Some game? You like to play with your food? Give the mouse some hope before swatting it with your claws?”

Amara straightens and saunters closer to the ranger, taking in the lines of her lithe body shackled to the dungeon walls and searching for any concealed daggers the guards may have missed. Satisfied she won’t find herself on the wrong end of a short sword, she crouches next to her captive. “I need stealthy and smart allies. I can’t trust anyone in the City of Shadows to help me with the mission I must undertake. But someone who can pass unnoticed on the surface? That I desperately need right now.”

“And you want me to help you launch some assault? Help you gather intel for some attack? Some scheme to expand the reach of House Barlok beyond the Underrealm?” Shayn shifts as far away from Amara as her chains and manacles allow. “No.”

“Believe it or not, even Dusk Elves don’t want the world to end. It’s rather hard to rule over something that doesn’t exist and ghosts make for poor subjects and worse soldiers. No. Even someone yoked to the annoyingly cheerful Mother of Forests would ally themselves with a Dusk Elf if it means saving the world, right?”

“Why ally with you when I can just take the information you have about the Umbraith myself?”

The Umbraith? A word Amara does not recognize. Unless it’s some sort of local monikor for the one who would become Tollith the Devour. Or maybe one of his minions? Or perhaps some sort of plot macguffin Amara hadn’t been made privy to yet? It's not in Thellia's memories, either.

She curses under her breath. If Amara doesn’t know about this thingmabob, there’s no way Erika could know about it. Maybe it’s something unique that Erika made up just for her own backstory?

“So you do know about it. Interesting. Where is it hiding? I know your family has it. You’ve given that much away.”

“I don’t know what it is; if my family has it, I have not been informed. But you help me, I help you. Scream a little, seriously. The guards will come investigate if you don’t and I don’t feel like scarring your pretty face or flaying your smooth skin.”

Shayn takes a deep breath, eyes full of skepticism. But she does as she is told; her jaw drops and she lets out three agonizing and long wails, each more ragged than the previous.

“Thank you,” Amara says. “Nex time, add a little begging in. But for now. Please. I will help you find the Umbraith and you will help me with my mission. Go ahead and beg me to stop now.”

Another weary glare from the ranger before she puts on another show. “Please! Stop!” She yelps in pain before begging again. “Just stop! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you just stop!”

“I didn’t expect a ranger to be that convincing but. Well done. Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t know. But I am appreciative that you didn’t feel the need to break out whatever instruments of torture you keep down here. You seem decent. I’m sorry I shall have to kill you once our alliance is through.”

“I am sure I will get over it. But for appearances, I’m going to have to ask you to stay down here tonight. Don’t worry, I’ll warn them that you are my toy. They do even the slightest bit of harm to you, and I’ll pay it back to them a hundred fold.”

She turns her back to Erika—to Shayn—and walks back to the guards break room. “I’m done with her. Give her a few minutes to get her clothes back on. Nothing is bleeding; I didn’t want to leave a mess for you. But she is my plaything. You hear?”

The guards glance back and forth at each other, nervous to make eye contact with her. “We understand,” the eldest one says. “She’s yours.”

“Exactly. You do not touch her. You do not look at her. You do not speak to her. You make sure she gets her meals, gets water, and her waste pit doesn’t get too full. I don’t even want the mice to bite her. Understood?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Good. I will be back in the morning. And if my instructions are disobeyed…”

“They won’t be, my lady.”

Amara does not waste another word on them. Thellia certainly wouldn’t. She climbs back up the stairs, creeping through the mansion of House Barlok.

She’d had money, a lot of it, on Earth. But nothing like this. No, nothing like this. A mansion with more rooms than could possibly be counted; servants and wait staff, maids and laundresses. Seamstresses on call to make a custom gown on a whim, chefs at the ready to prepare fabulous feasts, and more security than some Earth politicians could wish for.

And it might be entirely hers one day. If Imeria, her elder sister, stayed in the Temple of Katta and rose to the rank of Priestess, then House Barlok would pass to Thellia upon their mother’s death.

It would be a lonely life to live, however, if Aislinn is not here to live it with her.

She arrives back in her rooms and enters her bedchamber, peeling off her leather and cotton and slipping back into her nightgown. The window is still closed; but the threat of the night is over. She flings the glass pane out again and stares out into the night. There is no sky in the Underrealm—no moons, no stars. Just stone and stalacites for a sky. It is always night. But still, it is beautiful. The rocky firmament is lined with glowing flowers and luminescent fungus. An everchanging sea of constellations; new ones forming all the time. She finds the brightest flower she can and wishes to whatever gods of the Forsaken Realms can hear her that she find Aislinn. Soon.