An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I remember the Calamity.Â
I remember Avalir.Â
I remember⌠home.Â
I remember everything. Every person, every place, every name â everything. I remember the marvelous buildings of the city in the sky, daring to reach the stars above. I remember the people moving through the constantly busy streets, from work-loaded wizards teleporting from one place to another to carefree children prancing, weaving, and dashing around. I remember the sounds, the oh-so beautiful sounds: the mutterings of spells whispered to one sorcerer to another, the creakings of large carrowhulks stomping throughout the streets, the gossip shared by bards and commonfolk alike, words and music exchanged to one another all the same. I remember the centerpiece of all: Mount Ygora, the crown that flew all around the world.Â
And I remember the fateful day that crown fell.Â
I remember the buildings crumbling into pieces in an instant, all-too powerful blasts of force breaking the hands that once reached for the stars. I remember the people crowding the streets, running for their lives as the youth and the elderly, the rich and the poor, the magically experienced and everyday folk wanted, no, needed to live on. I remember the sounds of utter destruction: shouts for help, screams of pain and agony, and ragged cries as families, friends, and loved ones are lost along the way.Â
I remember hearing the voice of Loquatious Seelie, famed broadcaster for the Heraldâs Tome, echoing throughout the city for everyone to flee and get to safety â and for the elite to stay behind. I remember Zerxus Ilerez, the First Knight, streaming through the sky atop his starry griffon like a comet â a demonic yet heroic comet. I remember large automatons wielding blades and brute force â taxmen, or so I heard they were called â as they marched into battle, led by none other than the captain of the Golden Scythe himself, Nydas Okiro. I remember hearing reports that the other members of the Ring of Brass â Cerrit Agrupnin, Laerynn Coramar-Seelie, and Mistress Patia Porâco â were busy winning their own victories within the City of Crowns.Â
I, however, remember running through the streets toward the edge of the city, my masterâs robes rustling alongside me. I remember his expression of concern, his eyes creased with focus yet glistening with fear. We were to board a skyship, to escape the falling city and survive elsewhere but here â anywhere but here. Though, before we took a single step atop our vessel, there was a noise, a monstrous alarm that caught everybodyâs attention: a harsh, guttural roar from up above. Appearing through the smokestacks of the ruined city was a hulking demon, its large, leathery wings carrying it in the air. It let out another roar, then, from its clawed, outstretched hand, released fiery beams of pure, destructive energy headed straight for us. Were we to run off, we were to be swiftly hunted like lambs to the slaughter. Were we to board the skyskip â or try to â we were to be immolated in an instant. Before I could choose my own untimely demise, however, my master made it for me. I remember my mind suddenly being flooded with magic, my limbs losing control of their own â but not my eyes. I turned them toward my master, and for but a brief moment amidst everything, it was as if time had stopped. I remember his face, creased with an all-too painful regret. I remember his eyes, glistening with tears that had yet to fall. And I remember his last words to me, his mouth mirroring his final message in my mind:Â
âIâm sorry.âÂ
The next thing I remember is falling through the sky, plummeting toward the City of Thrones below. I remember witnessing the chaos that was occurring on CathmoĂra, not unlike the violence that was happening up above. I remember the buildings, each and every one of them, turning into nothing but stone, clay, and dust. I remember the lifeless bodies that littered the streets â and the bodies that escaped in hopes of staying alive. I remember the sounds of weapons clashing with weapons, of words of magic being slung in the fight for victory â or the want for despair.Â
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
   Screams. Blood. Light. Death. Those were the last things Cor remembered before opening their eyes into darkness. Yet, it was a familiar darkness, a realm that the young kenku had only been to one other time. They stood up, talons clinking atop a floor of solidified pitch, and turned their head around, looking for something.
   âHello?â Cor called out. âAre you there?â
   While the kenku spun about, seemingly awaiting some sort of response, a glimmer of light caught their eye. They shifted their gaze downward to notice a golden thread wrapped around their pinky finger, the rest drifting away into the darkness beyond. Immediately, Cor let out a small caw! of glee. A smile swiftly grew on their beaked face, and, jittering and giggling with excitement, they ran toward the direction of the floating thread.
   Their talons rapidly tap, tap, tapped across the floor of nothingness below them. The golden thread danced in the air, guiding the kenku into the unknown, but they didnât care. Each step took them closer to the one thing they were hoping for - and soon enough, there she was. Cor smiled once again as they approached a tall, shadowy woman. Her long, raven-black hair fell to the floor, seemingly connected to the darkness, and it ruffled across her face to reveal a white porcelain mask concealing her true features; a stark contrast from the rest of her form. The only sliver of color on the woman was a thread of gold wrapped around the pinky finger of an ivory-hued hand - the same thread that Cor had on theirs.
   The woman was unmoving, only shifting her head to stare at the little kenku as they opened their arms and gave her the largest hug they could muster. âI knew you were here somewhere!â Cor beamed. âYou donât know how happy I am to see you! I was in a really, really scary place, but now Iâm here! With you!â
   As Cor happily nuzzled themselves into the womanâs form, she reached her hand down to softly pet the kenkuâs head. She then gingerly grazed their cheek, cupped their chin, and tilted their head up to look at her, her porcelain face slanted to the side in curiosity. âDo you know why you are here, little one?â Her lips remained still, but her voice, intense and otherworldly, echoed all throughout the empty void.
   âIs it because you wanted to hang out with me?â Cor chirped.
   âNo.â
   âNo? Is it because you wanted to do something else?â
   âYes.â
   Cor suddenly bounced with excitement. âYippie! Is it fun? Is it a surprise? What is it?â
   The woman kneeled down to the small kenkuâs height and gently wrapped their hand with her own. Her voice was but a solemn whisper when she spoke. âI am here to take you home.â
   âHome?â Corâs jitters swiftly died down as they felt something wrap around their finger. They peered downward to notice the golden thread between them and the woman tighten, its gleam growing ever-so brighter. The womanâs touch, as comforting as it typically was, grew chill and barren. Then, it dawned upon them. Cor tightened their grip on the womanâs hand, then drooped their head and looked up at her with pleading eyes. âWhat if Iâm not ready to go home?â
   âI cannot bring you back this time, little one. It is time to go.â
   âBut what about my friends? I canât just leave them so soon! I didnât even say goodbye!â Cor suddenly cried out, their voice crackling. They quivered, sniffling back tears that threatened to fall. Then, out of the blue, a light tap on their shoulder caught their attention. They turned around, releasing a small gasp when they saw ethereal, ghostly figures of everyone they knew. Friends, family, loved ones - they were silhouettes, faint echoes of their mortal forms, but Cor recognized each and every last one of them. The dark-haired woman stepped back as the phantoms gathered around to embrace the small, tearful kenku. The frozen touch they felt moments ago melted away. Instead, they felt warmth and love as they shared one last moment of life with those who gave them one that was lived to the fullest. Cor hugged back the best they and their little form could, smiling as they allowed the tears to fall. When they eventually let go, they watched as the spirits dissolved into shining, silvery dust, fading away into the void beyond.
   The woman reapproached the little kenku, and they turned around to see her open palm, delicate and welcoming. âAre you ready to go home now, little one?â
   âYeah,â Cor said, wiping their tears away, âIâm ready.â However, just before they placed their taloned hand atop the womanâs, they hesitated. âWait. Can I ask you one last thing?â
   âWhat is it?â
   They looked up at the woman, young, innocent eyes staring straight at her. âWas⌠Was I a good friend?â
   A moment of silence. Then, the woman took Corâs hand, and her hold was tender and soothing beyond comparison. âYou have always been a good friend, little one,â she said. âAnd you always will be.â As they both began to walk away, the kenku stayed right by the woman's side, their light disappearing into the darkness.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
In the beginning, when the world was newly born, the mystical elves were one of the many races that lived within it. They were created by the wondrous Arch Heart and resided in the whimsical lands of the Feywild. However, the Moonweaver, a well-known mischief-maker among the deities, blessed some of the Arch Heartâs elves with her own divine magic. Thus, the first pallid elves were born. Inheriting their curiosity from the goddess, some pallid elves migrated from their homes in the Feywild to explore the Material Plane. Among them, the Moonweaver is best known for shielding mortals from the dangers of the dark with her magic over the night, but to the Selyutuna family, she is revered as much more. According to legend, the family would not exist today were it not for her role in connecting its very first members: Sely and Utuna.
Like many other pallid elves, Sely and Utuna wandered into the Material Plane long ago. The two of them experienced many of the world's wonders together - the land, the sea, the sky, and the primordial magic hidden within - but none of it satisfied the ever so inquisitive Utuna. She often wondered about the mysteries of the night sky up above - and what secrets the Moonweaver kept hidden within her domain. The world was still new, yes, but the other gods and goddesses had already created their fair share. The Wildmother brought forth thriving flora and fauna, the Dawnfather brought forth the light of the morning and midday sun, but what did the Moonweaver bring? Surely more than her pallid elves and a twilit dusk shifting into her realm of desolate dark.
Spurred by her curiosity, Utuna casted elven magics of both the Arch Heart and the Moonweaver and soared straight into the pitch-black sky. She left her beloved Sely as he rested on the earth below and flew higher than the clouds that the airborne aarakocra glided through. With each passing moment, the ground became further and further away, and soon enough, Utuna could only see the murky darkness around her. Even her sharp elven eyes, enhanced with arcane magic, could not pierce through the gloom.Â
However, Utuna was adamant and refused to return to the earth below empty-handed. She continued toward the heavens, not knowing that her magic was growing weaker and weaker as she journeyed onward, and it eventually fizzled out. She was left floating high within the night sky, resorting to swimming through the shadows in a futile attempt to find her way. Unbeknownst to her, the Moonweaverâs mysterious domain was restricted to the goddess for a reason. Lost and weakened from her voyage, dark tendrils of night suddenly struck at Utuna, restraining her in place as their corruption pierced through her veins. As the pain worsened, the only thing she could do was cry out for help, not knowing if she would be heard to any of her mortal kin down below.
Much to her fortune, her cries were not in vain. Despite being trapped higher than the clouds, the sound of a pained Utuna had woken Sely up from his trance. He looked to the sky in the direction of his loverâs voice, but the shadows obscured any hint of his beloved save for her sound. As she gradually failed to endure more and more agony, he called to the Moonweaver for help as a last resort, knowing that the night was her very abode. The goddess heard Selyâs plea and streaked across the dark heavens like a comet, sparkling silver trailing behind her. Divine strands weaved around Utuna to protect her and shone with a dazzling radiance, dispersing her shadowy restraints before fading away in the night sky. Sely was overjoyed that Utuna's pained cries were no more, but where was Utuna herself? Surely the Moonweaver would have been able to return her to her mortal home with him. He asked this question to the Moonweaver, who answered it with an innocent sorrow in her voice.
"Although I have saved Utuna from her demise, the dangers of the night have tainted her soul far beyond my restoration. Her magic, mingled with the dark, barely lost against my divine abilities. I have weaved a sanctuary around Utuna to protect her from further harm, but I am afraid that she must remain among the shadows due to her unruly curse. But fear not, dear Sely. I can see her where you cannot, and I will keep her safe from any other night time dangers and threats. I promise."
Sely believed in her words, knowing that the Moonweaver would withhold her promise in her own playful ways, but the sound of his heart aching rang in his ears. He yearned for his beloved Utuna, but she would be up in the heavens with their goddess. For the rest of his life, no matter how long it would last, it would have to be lived without his love by his side. Nevertheless, Sely took faith in the Moonweaverâs words, trusting her with the one person he loved the most, and respectfully - albeit sadly - accepted them. Ever since then, Sely's life was filled with an immense longing. By day, he continued to live through earthly experiences without his beloved by his side. By night, he prayed to the Moonweaver for Utuna's safety, often speaking to the shadows in hopes that she would be able to hear him. Eventually, his mortal life had reached its end, and Sely perished under the shade of a particularly dark night.
The Moonweaver had listened to Selyâs wishes all the while and knew of his pure adoration to Utuna. Although his body was still, his soul lived on, and the goddess guided him toward the heavens above. She imbued him with sparkling slivers of her divine magic, protecting him from the dangers of the night as they journeyed deep within her domain. Soon enough, they arrived at Utuna's sanctuary in the sky, hidden with dark, illusory magic, and Sely was finally able to see his love once again. The Moonweaver had kept her promise all along. He wrapped his arms around his beloved in a passionate embrace. Elated to be with her, the love in his heart erupted in a wondrous, gleaming aura, for it was enhanced by the godly magic weaved into his soul, and illuminated Utuna's sanctuary in the night sky. The brightness weakened the darkness looming around it and beamed toward the earth below, offering the soft comforts of moonlight to Sely and Utuna's mortal kin.
From that point on, the families of the two lovers have honored the pallid elves by living together as the Selyutuna family, which is now known as an Elvish surname translating to Moondream in Common. Without the solace of his beloved, Sely dreamed of her well-being above all else, and it was his love for Utuna caused the Moonweaver's protection to become the moon itself. As the moon waxes and wanes, it is said that the two lovers are dancing happily together throughout the night. To this day, much of the Selyutuna family are devout believers and followers of the Moonweaver. They believe that the goddess leads them toward their soulmates, shields them with moonlit blessings throughout their mortal lives, and guides their souls to the heavens to turn into long-lived stars that twinkle alongside their ancestors. The story of Sely and Utuna is deeply rooted in Selyutuna history, for it depicts the tale of an everlasting love that shines through even the darkest of nights.
Soft rays of sunset gleamed through the branches and leaves of the Wildmotherâs temple. It consisted entirely of a gigantic tree, and at its center stood a large, intricately carved shrine depicting the goddess of the wilds herself. Her form was decorated with a variety of gifts, donations, and bounties, but only one visitor was at the shrine tonight. She whirled around it as a snow-white blur, adjusting disorganized offerings, cleaning any remnants of filth, and putting out candles for the night. Swiftly finishing her efforts, she descended to the ground with large, dove-like wings, preening them slightly to remove any grime, and dusted off her green-and-blue vestments. After ensuring her cleanliness, she then knelt down at the base of the shrine, clutched onto her holy symbol - a small wreath of tiny, interwoven white lilies, with a miniature bow notched in the middle - and draped her head in prayer.
"Thank you for yet another glorious day, Wildmother. I, Beatrice, am grateful to live amongst your blessed creations of earth, sea, and sky.â Her coos were as soft as the gentle breezes passing through the temple. "I am one of your most devout followers, and I am more than thankful forâ - her words were suddenly interrupted by a large yawn escaping her mouth - âthankful for knowing that you will be there for anyone who needs you the most."
Beatrice paused her prayers to lower her wings and look around. After making sure that nobody was within the vicinity, she huddled her wings close and continued to speak in a soft whisper. "Though, dear Wildmother, I confess that I am currently one of those people. I have been using my divine magic for good, but each passing day, the necessities for it are becoming more and more overwhelming. While I want to help whenever I can, it feels like my healing abilities are being taken advantage of. Even the clergy encourages me to use them whenever possible, whether or not Iâ - Beatriceâs eyelids began to fall, and she shook her head awake upon realizing it - âwhether or not I have been getting enough sleep at night. The less energy I have to help myself, the more discouraged I feel about helping others. I fear it may have disastrous results if this continues, and I desperately plead for your guidance in these trying times, Wildmother. What am I to do?â She opened her beak agape and yawned her last few words out of her mouth. Her head drooping downward, she repeatedly murmured the question to herself before eventually falling asleep.Â
Upon opening her eyes, Beatrice quickly bolted them open, having found herself outside the comforts of the Wildmother's temple. She was instead in the midst of a vast field of flowers that stretched endlessly across the lands. Grasses danced with the soft breeze, and morning sunlight shone above them like a warm blanket. On occasion, clouds of cotton drifted through the pastel blue sky, offering shade to Beatrice as she looked around her unusual surroundings. However, what caught her eye the most was the shrine of the Wildmother. Although it was significantly smaller - approximately the same height as the average aarakocra - it still brought Beatrice great joy knowing it had come with her. With nothing but the whispers of the winds to witness her words, she held onto her holy symbol and bowed her head to pray.
"I know not where I am, but where there is nature, there is your presence, dear Wildmother. If you have heard my plea, I beg of you to help me. Will my expectations of being a healer loom over me forever?"
As if the winds themselves were speaking, Beatrice heard a divine, feminine voice weave within them. "Life and death are hand-in-hand. Forever never truly lasts, but it is up to the individual to decide what shall live and what shall die."
"But what are the decisions of the self compared to the decisions of others? If a pure heart is hurt for doing what they love, then is it worth being pure in the first place?"
"True purity resides only within the self. The graciousness of the wilds is only powerful by living for no one. Whether destroyed, twisted, or displaced, it always manages to thrive. It follows its own rules, and if some rules must be broken, then they shall."
Beatrice's plumage ruffled as she felt the winds blow a different direction. She turned around toward the shifting breeze and, still clutching her holy symbol, gradually spread out her wings. The rushing air, gentle land, and comforting warmth existed in perfect harmony all around her, and she closed her eyes, taking all of it in before murmuring one last question. "Wildmother, through the trials of skies, land, and seas, will you always be there for me?"Â
A moment after saying her words, Beatrice felt the slightest touch of something atop her head. She opened her eyes and turned back, but was only able to catch a mere glimpse of a certain figure. Long, tangled locks of hair enveloped her form, various plant life growing all around her like vines. She stood as tall as a great tree, with her skin the same shade as oaken bark. Despite how intimidating she seemed, a pleasant smile grew on her face, and bright, verdant green eyes looked directly at Beatrice's, who knew all too well that it was the Wildmother herself. However, by the time she blinked, she had suddenly returned to the temple, faint moonlight now dappling through branches and leaves with hints of stars twinkling up above.Â
Beatrice made a few hard blinks, wondering if the experience was simply a dream, only for her to catch something sliding off her head. It was a laurel wreath, its leaves as healthy as freshly revived nature in the spring - the same color as the Wildmother's gaze. A slight breeze then dashed past her, whispering in the same voice from her vision. "My winds will always be there to guide you, Beatrice, no matter how faint or strong they may be. Do not forget that."
She was about to give thanks before a sudden voice echoed through the temple's chambers, making her plumage ruffle as she flinched. "Beatrice! We need your help again!"
"Coming!" She replied, knowing that it was the voice of another cleric in her clergy. However, before departing, Beatrice looked at the goddess' shrine and the laurel wreath. "Thank you for being with me, Wildmother," she quietly cooed, weaving divine magic together to envelop the gift in a soft, golden light. Placing it above her head, she then outstretched her wings, flapped them, then flew away.Â
Beatrice the aarakocra hatched between planes - the Material Plane and the Elemental Plane of Air specifically - with dove-like wings as white as the clouds. However, she knows not of who her true parents are, for ever since she was born, she and other orphans were adopted by a clergy dedicated to the deity of nature; she considers them to be her family nonetheless. Their teachings were firm yet welcoming, and Beatrice grew up learning the religious ways of the natural world. She took a particular interest in the gentle, life-giving properties of nature and learned how to manifest divine magics of healing, growth, and protection. Her innate kindness and friendliness further supported her interests, and despite her clergy's strict devoutness for maintaining the untainted cycle of the natural world, Beatrice's angelic personality made her the purest cleric among them all. Eventually, the grand leader of her clergy caught wind of her goodwill, and when she reached maturity, they bestowed her with a special mission. Although most of the clergyâs members stayed between the planes to maintain elemental balance, a special few were tasked to go to the Material Plane, surviving its unpredictable lands to spread the word of the deity of nature while keeping their hearts, minds, and souls as pure as possible - Beatrice was chosen as one of those special few. With her deityâs blessing guiding her, she flies across the lands of the Material Plane, offering her kindhearted help and healing to whoever needs it.
Luxaria Chastsul was born to two tiefling parents and raised in a small town, a juncture where many people arrived and left. However, the tiefling population was often the victim of unfair treatment, discrimination, and mistrust due to their infernal bloodlines, and the Chastsul family allied with other members of the minority. It was through this community where Luxaria met and grew up with her best friend. To survive in their unfavorable conditions, they pranked, stole, and even committed minor crimes together. The two soon became inseparable. One day, the pair was going to commit their biggest heist yet, but all of a sudden, her best friend disappeared without a trace. Nonetheless, Luxaria continued her thieving ways alone until one day, a troupe of traveling bards performed in her hometown. She pickpocketed members of the audience, but she soon became entranced by the performers themselves. Their songs were enchanting, like a unique type of magic that captivated anybody who heard it, and it sparked inspiration in her. No matter what she was, becoming a bard like them would make others love her, and she would live in glorious riches and warm company alike. Luxaria snatched one of the performersâ instruments - a lyre, to be precise - and left her hometown to learn more. She attended a bard college, specialized in the darker arts of temptation and manipulation, and even changed her name to something that reflected her new musical ways: Tempo. Yet, the more songs she sings, the more she finds herself singing them for a special someone. Living as a traveling bard, Tempo wanders the world, yearns to find her true love, and hopes to return something she stole a long time ago: her best friendâs heart.Â
Invidrav Enintia was born to two tiefling parents and raised in a small town, a juncture where many people arrived and left. However, the tiefling population was often the victim of unfair treatment, discrimination, and mistrust due to their infernal bloodlines, and the Enintia family allied with other members of the minority. It was through this community where Invidrav met and grew up with his best friend. To survive in their unfavorable conditions, they pranked, stole, and even committed minor crimes together. The two soon became inseparable. One day, the pair was going to commit their biggest heist yet, but all of a sudden, Invidrav was kidnapped. He was snatched away by members of a suspicious thieves guild who knew of his larcenous skills and subtly coerced him to join their group. Not knowing any better about their villainous ways, he agreed. From that point on, Invidrav and his new criminal allies left his hometown and traveled around the world. They stole from whoever they could, slinked through the underbelly of the law, and enforced their notorious reputation. Invidrav himself ended up being the best thief among them, his companions even nicknaming him âRavenâ for his keen eye for shiny things. Yet, the more time that has passed, the more corrupt the thieves guild has become. Unsure if he wants to stay with them any longer, Invidrav secretly hopes to escape the thieves guild, go back to his hometown, and return something he stole a long time ago: his best friendâs heart.Â
Amelli Fisperadita grew up on a small, humble farm located deep within the countryside and far from proper civilization. Despite the fairy being vastly different from her family members, they raised her as one of their own. Under their care, she learned how to grow crops and raise animals. However, Amelliâs favorite task was tending to the familyâs bee hives. She felt a natural attachment to the bees, and it was as if they looked up to her like their own queen bee. Even when the family farm was attacked by enemies ranging from dangerous wolves to vicious owlbears, she learned how to defend her home with the swarm helping her in the fight. However, neither Amelli nor her caretakers know of her true birth origins. In truth, Amelli was born in the Feywild as the progeny of two royal fairy families: the Fisperas and the Perditas. However, the alliance between the two families had not yet been made official, and Amelliâs birth parents, unmarried at the time, knew they would get punished if they learned of the child born out of wedlock. Her parents sneaked into the Material Plane, traveled as far away from their kingdoms as possible, and secretly orphaned their child. The only hint the parents left was the merged surname of their royal familiesâ allegiance: Fisperadita. Now, with the wilderness growing stronger each day, Amelli has left her rural home to venture into the world unknown, ready to fight against larger threats with her loyal swarm of bees by her side.
Viatorci Viianursing (Goldenleaf), high elf sorcerer (Divine Soul)
(backstory below)
The Viianursing bloodline lives with the blessed ichor of a celestial elf deity flowing through their veins. Paired with the long lives of their elven family tree and an established and respected royal kingdom, it has endured for generations. Queen Viatorci Viianursing is the current ruler - or rather, she was. Viara was her name as a child, though her parents passed away at her birth due to prophetic connections with the divine. She grew up constantly studying and practicing her celestial powers, and when she was stressed - which she often was - she would retreat to the castle gardens. She enjoyed spending time with the calmness of nature and the friendly wildlife that would occasionally visit. Over time, more features of her divine blood appeared, and it was time for Viara to no longer be a simple princess. She changed her elvish name to Viatorci and was crowned the new queen of the Viianursing family. Unfortunately, shortly afterward, suspicions were swift to spark. A drow charlatan infiltrated the elvish kingdom and sowed seeds of suspicion about Viatorci throughout the royal butlers, assistants, and confidants. These lies spread to the Viianursing kingdom as a whole and an uprising formed. The people of the kingdom usurped its new queen off her throne, banished her from her own land, and made the inspiring drow the realmâs new leader. Knowing she canât fight back alone, Viatorci prepares her divine powers to defend her bloodline and regain the truth, her kingdom, and her crown.Â
Strayix Absolune, otherwise known as simply Nightowl, was born to a single drow mother and an unknown elf. Despite not having a father, her mother raised her in a gloomy area of the Underdark close to the surface. Sunlight did not gleam in Nightowlâs eyes as much as darkness did. Her mother was powerful enough to have a fair amount of slaves at her disposal. Nightowl herself was often exposed to the torture, abuse, and pain they were forced to go through, and even when listening to their torment or watching their corpses rot away, she found a twisted joy in their suffering. Strangely, after hearing their last dying words, she could have sworn their voices lingered in her head long after they were gone. Nonetheless, Nightowl grew up under her motherâs deathly wing and learned how to kill, assassinate, and even bring about lifetimes of suffering to those who didnât side with her. Even in the Underdark, Nightowlâs name became a danger risky enough to mention. Nightowl became the successor to her motherâs slaves and power when she reached of age, but coincidentally, her mother died shortly after due to an unknown cause. This did not faze Nightowl, especially when the ghost of her mother remained with her daughter even in the afterlife. It was at this point when the voices of the dead amplified, staying by Nightowlâs side and assisting her wicked ways for better or for worse. With her mother encouraging her, Nightowl moved from the Underdark and formed her own small group of felons on the surface. Now she scours the world, looking for others to murder, imprison in her criminal empire, or both.Â
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Organization for Transformative Works
I could have all the riches in the world, and yet the only thing Iâd really want is you.Â
Raven sat on the side of his bed, fidgeting with something small in his hand. It weaved around his fingers before he caught it between his index and his thumb. The item itself: a silver ring with a shining ruby at its peak. He slipped it on, smiling softly when he did so, but his expression quickly soured to a stoic one. The gemstone reminds me of her. It reminds me of what we once were, of what things were like when we were together, but everything else⌠Raven removed the ring and stashed it away in a pocket. He then brushed a hand through his pitch-black hair, tracing along a bony crown that rose and fell toward the back of his head like ocean waves. Unusual silver eyes, skin as dark as a midnight blue, and the horns of a devil to top things off. I suppose life was just inclined to be that way for people like us, wasnât it?
Raven breathed out a sigh, but a few knocks on his roomâs door plucked him out of his thoughts. Just when he was about to stand up to open it, the door was bashed open, the frame slamming against the opposing wall. He jolted in surprise and instinctively prepared himself for some sort of sneak attack, only for three familiar individuals to waltz in like nothing had happened: a dark gray-toned half-orc with his bulky arms crossed; a dark brown-furred tabaxi staring at him with their piercing, emerald gaze; and a sunset-hued tiefling, her golden eyes glinting with both worry and strictness.Â
The half-orc was the one to shatter the ice of the sudden tension, his gruff voice making the scene all the more menacing. âAlright, Raven, cough it up. We know youâre hidinâ somethinâ.â
Shit. They donât know about that, do they? Fuck. Just⌠keep your cool. Heâs always been the intimidating one anyway. If nobody says what it actually is, then they donât really know. âWhat do you mean, Vulture?âÂ
âDonât play dumbass with me,â Vulture growled. âA little birdie" - Raven noticed his eyes point to the tabaxi for a split second - âtold me youâve been stashinâ somethinâ away from the Scavengers. Youâve been keepinâ secrets from us, buddy?âÂ
Maybe if he didnât call me 'buddy,' Iâd tell him the truth. That is, after I smack his face in. âIâd never hide anything from my own teammates.âÂ
âHeâs lying.â The tabaxi flicked their tail toward Ravenâs direction. âCheck under the bed.âÂ
Raven did nothing but clench a fist and watch as Vulture went down to peer underneath. A long, sharp whistle then sounded in the room. âYaâ know what, Raven? I always knew sneaky little bastards like you had a knack for collectinâ shiny things.â When Vulture got back on his feet, a small sachet was in his grasp. He shook it, the sound of coins clinking together from within, then tossed it to the orange tiefling. âYouâve got one hell of a cache down there, too. Thatâs why we Scavengers are âgenerousâ enough to cut a deal with yaâ.â
âGenerous?â The only thing theyâre âgenerousâ enough to give away is their blackmail. Raven asked a question through slightly clenched teeth. âAnd what would that deal be?âÂ
âDonate everything you have to Nightowl and nobody gets hurt.â The tiefling jingled the bag of coins as a gesture. âThat means everything.âÂ
Damn. âDonation,â my ass. âAnd if I donât?âÂ
âYou already know what weâll do,â the tabaxi said, suddenly unsheathing their claws with a shink!Â
âNow, now, Perry, the three of us wonât be the ones punishinâ him. Iâm sure Nightowl will torture âim, or maybe sheâll kill âim⌠Or maybe she just might take pity on yaâ and set this little birdie free.â Vulture moved closer to Raven, his smug underbite mere inches away from the otherâs emotionless expression. âThen again, itâd be a damned shame if a wanted criminal like you were to be on the run, wouldnât it?âÂ
Damn it all the way to hell.
âThe choice is yours, Raven,â the tiefling chimed in. âGive your loot to the Scavengers or suffer Nightowlâs wrath.âÂ
 Raven clenched his fist tighter, his fingernails beginning to dig into his palm. As if I have any choice. Vulture would beat me up, Perry would dash straight to Nightowl, and Robin⌠He stifled out his answer. âFine.âÂ
âWhat was that?â Vulture teased. âYou might wanna say that again just a little louder, birdie.âÂ
Fuck you. âFine,â he suddenly snapped. âGo ahead, take it all. Just donât tell Nightowl.âÂ
âOh, donât worry, Raven. The Scavengers always keep up their end of the bargain.â Before stooping down to the bottom of the bed, Vulture turned to his tabaxi teammate. âScout the hall for us, wonât âcha, Perry? We wouldnât want Nightowl herself cominâ in and kickinâ our asses instead.âÂ
Perry followed the order immediately, passing through the doorway with light, swift steps. Meanwhile, Vulture got down to business. He scooped in as many of the coin bags as he could - all while Raven casted a single glance at the only other person there - and rose back up, his hefty arms full of them.Â
âI got most of the stash, Robin. Be a dear and get the rest for me.â He then looked at Raven and said in an exaggerated, sarcastic tone. ââThe Scavengers appreciate your donation to our cause.â Hah! Come on, Perry,â he called, making his way to the exit, âwe can go. The lass has got the rest.âÂ
Vulture left the room with a chortle, leaving the two tieflings to themselves. Robin kneeled down to the bottom of the bed, taking her time to gather the rest of the cache. On the other hand, Raven stayed put. It was only after a fair number of seconds later when he spoke in a strange, demonic tongue.Â
âAlright, theyâre gone.âÂ
âOh, thank Asmodeus,â Robin sighed, replying in the same language. She breathed out a deep huff as if she had been holding her breath the entire time. âI swear, the next time Vulture calls me a âlass,â Iâll be kicking his ass straight to the Ninth.âÂ
Itâs times like these when Iâm glad the two of us are the only ones who know Infernal. Having a fiendish heritage has its perks, I suppose. âAnd Iâll be there to help you.âÂ
Robin chuckled lightheartedly at Ravenâs comment. The remaining coin bags jingled in her arms when she got back up on her feet. She then met gazes with Raven, and her tone changed to one of sympathetic sorrow. âHey⌠Iâm real sorry for having to do this to you. I wish I could help, but knowing Nightowl-âÂ
âWe don't have to talk about it.â Raven looked away and swatted his hand. âShe needs everything she can to help the crew anyway. Iâll just⌠find a way to regain it all or something. It's fine.âÂ
âAre you sure? I can probably leave you a coin pouch or two if it helps-âÂ
âRobin, Iâm sure. I donât need your help or anybody elseâs. Itâs fine.âÂ
Iâm not fine.
Despite the growing tensions, all Robin did was let out a sigh. âSometimes I think your unfriendliness is so cold, your cause of death will be frostbite. You know Iâll always be here if you need someone to talk to.â She began to step out, but took a pause to say one last thing. âBy the way, I left one of your âshiny thingsâ down there. It was this run-of-the-mill box that seemed out of place, but-âÂ
Her. Raven darted his head toward Robin. A flame of hope flared up in his eyes, but it instantly died out. He swiftly reverted back to his stoic expression and turned away, pretending that the scene never occurred.Â
â...Alright then, Iâll be taking all of this to Nightowl now.â Robinâs voice was solemn. âGood luck, Invidrav.âÂ
With her arms full, Robin awkwardly closed the door to his room on her way out, leaving Raven to be alone. He listened to the sound of her footsteps fading away. When he was sure she was gone, he pushed himself off of his bed and frantically searched under it. Where is it, where is it, where is it⌠There it is! In an instant, he reached toward the item - a small, mundane box - and slid it toward himself. Once it was out in the open, Raven removed its lid and gently lifted up the precious item that was inside: a pristine, golden necklace with a beautiful sapphire gleaming at its core.Â
Then, Invidrav smiled.Â
They could take all the riches in the world away from me, but the only thing Iâd really need is you. I hope youâre doing okay out there, Luxaria, wherever you are. Invieâs still trying his best to find you, and heâll do whatever it takes to be with his best friend again, no matter what.
