Fated Encounters

Just down that road were lights of homes and taverns that were filled with music and chatter. Thin, purple fabrics were draped outside many doors and windows in a cheap impersonation of the Verikov family’s fine silks that their mansion was known best for. On windy days, their mansion looked like a spirit thanks to the fluttering fabrics that came out from the balconies and surrounded the magnificent white-stone building in an aura of magnificence. For the families and establishments that couldn’t afford the fine color of purple, they settled for any sheer fabric dyed with blue, red, pink, or orange. Those colors were common substitutes, giving Alabaster a colorful atmosphere that charmed many adventuring tourists that made the desert trek to the wondrous city. What visitors saw as a rainbow of colors, locals saw as status indicators. The closer in tone to the immaculate lilac your curtains and clothes, the more prosperous you were. The ring of buildings surrounding the Verikov estate became a kaleidoscope of colors, growing warmer and warmer in tone the further from the estate they were.

The half-orc made her way down the dark alleyway lit by the faintest remnants of twilight and the dim light of windows above. It was dark in between the clay buildings, but not so dark that the street was imperceptible. She managed to reach the storage room of her guild without tripping over the strays stones that littered the back alleys of Alabaster’s slums and not drop the gallons of gunpowder she supported in each of her arms. With a soft grunt, she managed to open the dry wooden door with her foot, not letting either barrel slip out of her grasp for a single moment, and awkwardly shuffled her way into the dark room. The barrels landed on the dirty stone floor with a heavy thud, and the half-orc huffed in relief.

“Finally…” she spoke aloud with a soft smile on her face. She wiped the sweat off her brow as she took a satisfied look around the dry, dusty storage room that was lit only by a single, sputtering torch next to the door. “Time for a meal of my own.” Wyndolyn stepped back out into the dry evening air, mumbling to herself about steak and ale, but before she could even close the door to the storage room, a slinking figure shoved past her and raced inside. “Hey!” Wyndolyn shouted as the intruder pulled the door shut. Before the half-orc stomped back in to remove the intruder, the sound of heavy, clanking footsteps echoed from around the corner. Wyndolyn turned and spotted that infamous silver armor that all Alabaster citizens recognized from a mile away.

“Excuse me, stoneskin!” the older elf called. He approached the half-orc who crossed her arms and looked down her nose at the man. He looked up at her with an unwavering stare of seriousness. “Have you seen a blue tiefling run through here?”

“No, I haven’t,” she answered, still staring down her nose and presenting her flaring nostrils to the guard. “What’d they do that has guards running around searching for them?”

“She’s a thief. She stole from the heiress of the Verikov family and must be brought to justice.” 

The half-orc sneered for a moment at the word “justice” before adjusting her gaze and giving the guard a tense, awkward grin. “Of course. I’ll keep an eye out.”  Her words came off more menacing than friendly thanks to the tusks that jutted out from her lower lip. 

The guard nodded in unfazed acknowledgment before turning and charging back down the street in his search for the thief that had disgraced the Verikovs in the greatest possible way. Wyndolyn let her false grin drop with an annoyed sigh as she opened the door back into the storage space. When she entered, she was surprised to see the tiefling nowhere in sight and not a speck of dust out of place. Their steps had been so delicate that Wyndolyn couldn’t perceive their footprints in such low light. The room looked just as she left it. Even the dust in the air was still, no sign of a disruption that may have shifted it.

“Alright little thief, I know you’re in here,” Wyndolyn announced. “Come on out.”

Silence filled the air. Not a sound of a breath, of movement, or even of the occasional locust that found its way into the room.

 “The guards are gone, so could you come on out so we could talk?” Wyndolyn began peeking in between the crates. Her heavy footfalls sounded like brutish crashes in the dead silent air. She spied in between the boxes and barrels, lifting up lids to check inside a few boxes that were partially empty before. She went through the room, astounded at the little luck she had finding this trouble maker. One by one, each crate opened, each tarp lifted, each nook examined, there was absolutely no sign of anyone. Wyndolyn thought for a moment that a specter had come and gone when she finally lifted up a tarp towards the far corner in the room and finally found the thief. The tall, gangly blue tiefling with curled horns and a terrified expression had hidden in the furthest corner of the room and was curled in a fetal position between everything. The rogue’s head had snapped up at the sudden change of lighting, and their eyes now were the size of saucers. Their breathing increased rapidly and they began to violently shake.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Wyndolyn raised her hand up and bent down a bit, as if she was approaching a wild animal. Her voice was soft and warm now, completely unlike when she spoke to the guard just outside. “I’m not gonna turn you in. You’re gonna be fine. Just take a deep breath.”

Wyndolyn took a deep breath once, then twice, slowly inhaling and exhaling. To her relief, the rogue began to mimic her breathing, though it was much more ragged and timid. The tiefling’s arms didn’t loosen around their body, but their shaking began to cease.

Wyndolyn took a knee in front of the crates, lowering herself to the intruder’s level. “My name is Wyndolyn. What can I call you?”

The tiefling’s alert gaze was intense. Despite their breathing returning to a more regular state, they still seemed on guard. Those piercing blue eyes didn’t blink once as they watched Wyndolyn kneel in front of them. They waited expectantly for her next move.

Wyndolyn smiled at the rogue, taking a deep breath and letting her shoulders slump slightly. “Okay…” she hummed after waiting for the rogue’s answer. “Can I ask if you actually did steal something to get in trouble with those Verikov guards?”

The rogue gave a hesitant nod. “Oh shit…” Wyndolyn said in surprise. She was grinning. “From the Verikovs? Seriously?” The rogue gave another subtle nod. Wyndolyn smiled in admiration. “That’s quite the feat.”

The rogue softened slightly at Wyndolyn’s sincere smile. Their shoulders relaxed and their head came up just a touch from its nestled place between their knees.

“Did you steal something big? What was it?” Wyndolyn asked.

“Jewelry…” the rogue answered sheepishly. Their voice was meek, but pretty. “Silver.”

“The heiress’s silver? Well,” Wyndolyn scoffed, “no wonder the guards came looking.”

The rogue shrank back in on themselves at Wyndolyn’s words. Wyndolyn noticed the change and shook her head. “Hey, I won’t snitch. You can relax.”

Wyndolyn took a seat on the floor and crossed her legs. In turn, the rogue seemed to soften as well, though they were still hidden in between the crates. “What was your plan after fleeing?”

The rogue softly shrugged. “Go home…”

“Ah, okay.” Wyndolyn’s voice reflected her questioning of the thief’s barebone planning. “Is your home in the city?”

The rogue shook their head. Their eyes spotted something a thousand yards away.

“Ah…” Wyndolyn responded. “Where is your home then?”

A solitary tear fell from their eye and their gaze filled with darkness. “I don’t have one anymore.”

“Oh…” The tense silence filled the room. “I’m sorry,” was all Wyndolyn managed to say.

“Verikovs are disgusting. The worst.” The rogue spoke with a snarl, that timid nature turning into vehemence in a matter of a second.

“Yeah, I’ve never liked them either.”

The rogue looked up at Wyndolyn with a spark of hope in their eyes. “They’re so cruel,” Wyndolyn continued. “Ruling through fear is no way to live. Hell, even the king is kinder than those brutes.”

The rogue chuckled for a moment. Wyndolyn looked at them in surprise, relieved to see something close to a grin on the rogue’s blue lips.

“Even if they're cruel, maybe you should give back what you took? I could return it for you-”

“No!” the thief cried. Wyndolyn was taken aback, surprised to hear such passion from the timid tiefling. “It’s mine now. They took from me, so I take from them.”

“Ah… alright then.” Wyndolyn conceded the notion. She folded her calloused fingers together in her lap and sat, glancing between the rogue and around the room, waiting for the rogue’s fire to settle into an ember. It wasn’t long before they curled in again on themselves, their head lowering back in between their folded arms and their curled knees. They sat in the still dust for a long moment, listening to the soft, distant sounds of the Alabaster streets coming to life in the cool night air.

“So, little rogue,” Wyndolyn finally spoke. “Do you have any sort of plan now?”

The rogue shook their head.

Wyndolyn sighed. “What about escaping the city? The Verikovs are ruthless and will hunt you down until you're caught.”

“I don’t know where…” they muttered.

“There’s a village not too far south of Alabaster, just about a day’s trip. Have you ever been?”

The rogue shook their head.

“Have you ever been anywhere outside Alabaster?”

They shook their head again.

Wyndolyn sighed before looking around the room at the various supplies. The rogue curled back in on themselves further, peeking over their knees to observe the kind stranger and take in every subtle gesture. After a moment, Wyndolyn turned back towards them. Her bluish grey eyes were full of kindness and confidence. “How about I escort you out of the city myself?”

The rogue’s brow furrowed slightly.

“I’m with the Builders,” Wyndolyn continued. “We go in and out of town all the time. It wouldn’t be hard. We could be outside the city and you could be on your way before daybreak.”

The rogue curled even tighter in on themselves, their eyes not breaking away from the kind stranger for even half of a second. “I don’t have money,” they muttered softly. Wyndolyn offered her hand with a smile. “It’s a good thing I’m not charging you.”

The rogue stared at the hand as if it was a hot, flaming stove. “Why…?”

“Well,” Wyndolyn’s gaze dropped for a moment. She had to think her words through before she met the scared creature’s eyes once more. “The Builders are meant to help people and build them up. It’s what we do.”

The rogue’s eyes flickered between the outstretched hand and Wyndolyn’s tusked smile. After a moment of contemplation, they slowly reached out and took Wyndolyn’s hand with the lightest touch. Wyndolyn smiled as she got to her feet, pulling her newfound companion up with her.

“Okay, let’s get going…” Wyndolyn’s voice trailed off, unsure how to address her new escort.

“Helena,” the rogue said meekly. “My name’s Helena.”

---

The quiet cave was not as abandoned as the storefront just below it or the streets surrounding it. Along every single dusty wooden surface was a trove of shining gold, silver, and jewels, all sorted and organized by the color of the metal. The tiefling threw their black cape from their shoulders off to the side and began to rifle through the pouch they wore on their belt. They pulled a silver arm cuff from the bag and examined the craftsmanship, eying the intricate details of the curves that softly curled to form a natural vine shape along with the subtle carvings that added another layer of dimension to the metal to further add to its natural illusion. They slid the cuff onto their arm, but it quickly slid back down towards their hand. Their arm was just a touch too thin for the piece. They tossed it towards the shelf that held their collection of silver pieces before searching the bag for their next prize.

They pulled out a fine silver earring that was carved in a similar matter as the arm cuff, but these details seemed different. They were less refined, carved by a clumsier hand, but still lovely. The curving leaves that stemmed from the stud of the earring and dripped into a teardrop of amethyst that was the same color as that woman’s eyes. It was a radiant color that managed to become an even deeper shade of lilac in the dark, stagnant room. The rogue stared intently at the tear shaped jewel, their eyes gazing past the color and out a thousand leagues into nothingness. The earring slipped from their hand and back into the bag as their eyes drooped closed and their head began to lull on their thin neck. Exhaustion managed to claim the poor thief, their curled black horns knocking against the wooden walls as their head rolled to the side and they drifted off into rest. The rogue’s stomach growled incessantly in protest, craving any semblance of food before giving into sleep, but the rogue was too weak to do anything about it. They looked longingly to a nearby shelf covered in crumbs and saw that it was vacant. There was nothing on these tables except for inedible treasures, and they were useless to a grumbling stomach.

It wasn’t long until the rogue gave in to their exhaustion and curled up on the floor, pulling a nearby rug away from the bed and onto themselves for a blanket. The once green piece of fabric was scratchy, but more convenient than the thin white sheet that was draped over the dusty, ancient mattress. The rogue’s breathing began to steady, and it wasn’t long until they began to doze off into sleep.

Seconds turned to minutes, but before minutes could turn to hours, the rogue was woken by voices on the street below. Groggily, they got to their knees and peeked through the curtains with blurry eyes. The familiar glint of silver startled them awake.

“This seems excessive, captain.” There were three guards outside. The one speaking stood nervously, his foot fidgeting on the ground as he watched his captain fiddle with something.

The third party member crossed their arms and scoffed at the first. “Gods Dominic, you’re such a goody goody. This is what Lady Vero would’ve wanted of us.”

“Actually, I don’t think that’s true-”

“Quiet, Dominic,” the captain ordered with a hushed bark. The two younger guards snapped to attention. “We will do whatever it takes to preserve the Verikov name.” A spark flickered in the street then from the captain's hands. His fingers snapped and lit something small and compact with a fuse.

Without a second thought, the exhausted rogue ran for the back of the room and burst out the door into a dusty, decrepit hallway, then jumped out the small window lining the hall as the sound of shattering glass came from inside their home. They landed with a harsh thud and felt the gravel scratch up their thin skin. As they got to their feet with an aching whine, a burst of flame exploded from the second story. The wood burst from the building and came down in flaming piles onto the path around the rogue. The ear splitting sound made the world turn into an ear-piercing hum. Once the overwhelming rush of heat dissipated, the rogue looked up at their home and watched it quickly grow into a bonfire.

“Wha… wha… my…” they muttered to themselves with a voice so soft a librarian would ask for them to repeat themselves. Their eyes began to fill with tears that quickly streamed down their shocked face. They couldn’t hear their own wounded voice over the high pitched ringing in their ears. Slowly, it began to dissipate, letting the world come flooding back into the rogue’s mind.

The sound of clanking metal emerged from the other side of the building. The guards were coming. The rogue was frozen in shock, but their ears twitched subtly with each clatter of silver. Their body was slack as they stared at the flames that blazed into the early evening sky.

“There she is!” The captain called. That snapped the rogue out of their trance. Their head whipped around and their teary pupils narrowed like a cat’s as they spotted the guards coming out of a connecting alleyway. With no time to think, the rogue began sprinting in the opposite direction. They flew down the street and dipped right into the first possible alley that wasn’t a dead end. The guards gave chase, but their speed was no match for the rogue’s. “Split up and find her!” the captain called. His voice echoed through the alleys from a fair distance behind the rogue.

The thief continued to sprint through the streets, turning at every possible chance down any narrow alley in order to throw the guards off their trail. They wore a snarl as they dashed along the dirt in between the sandstone buildings, wiping their eyes with the backs of their hands when everything became too blurry. It was when the rogue slipped up and found themselves at a dead end that they were at a loss. A wrong turn had caught up with them. They turned around to backtrack, but the haunting sound of clanking metal was fast approaching. The rogue chitted their teeth before facing the dead end.

Outside of a few crates that lined the very end, there was a sturdy wooden door with a lock. The rogue began examining the crates, determining if they could vault them to reach the roofs of the nearby buildings, but there wasn’t a chance. The buildings were too tall, and climbing would be a much harder task now with their scratched up arms.

Suddenly, that sturdy locked door clicked and opened, revealing a tall half-orc woman that was exiting the building with a smile. Without a moment to spare, the rogue shoved the half-orc out of the way and slithered their way into the building.

“Hey!” the half-orc called out with a disgruntled voice. The rogue dashed inside and quickly pulled the heavy door shut behind themselves, swallowing themselves in the cave-like space. There was a single unlit torch by the door. The rogue’s eyes quickly adjusted to the pitch black darkness and saw that the large room was filled with crates as far as they could see and stacked so high that some of the boxes were pressed against the ceiling. The rogue scanned about, searching for another door, a window, a hatch, but there was nothing. Only boxes and tarps and a bit of rope off to their right.

The rogue began to hyperventilate. Their tail began to twitch before curling around their leg like a constricting snake. Their nostrils flared and their fingers shook nervously.

“Excuse me, stoneskin!” The captain’s voice came from just behind the door. The rogue jumped and dove into the nearest crack in between the crates. Quickly, they curled into a ball on the ground and pulled a nearby canvas tarp over themselves, hiding themselves among the supplies stored in what was soon to become their grave.

From outside, they could hear the faint mumbling of voices speaking. “Have you seen a blue tiefling run through here?” The captain asked just outside.

That half-orc woman’s voice came through, strong, cold, and brutish. “No, I haven’t,” she answered. “What’d they do that has guards running around searching for them?” 

The rogue’s breathing quickened. They could only take in shallow breaths as they curled tighter and tighter in on themselves, their arms squeezing their knees to their chest and their forehead pressing into their knees in order to hide themselves from the world. Their tail tightened even more around their thigh, squeezing tighter and tighter as their body began to shake more and more.

“She’s a thief. She stole from the heiress of the Verikov family and must be caught to be brought to justice.” The captain spoke sternly from outside. The hidden tiefling’s eyes went wide as they heard the words “heiress of the Verikov family.” Their shaking ceased only for a moment as tears began to well in their eyes, then came back in silent shivers that were far more violent than her shakes from before.

Within the Verikov’s magnificent mansion in the center of the city, carved out of the finest, lightest alabaster stone and decorated with the finest of lavender silks that gently fluttered out the balconies that lined nearly every room, a quiet rogue had managed to scuttle their way through the extravagant, bustling gardens filled with flowers and trees never meant to bloom in such scorching suns, up to the top floor, and into the Verikov mansion. The tall, scrawny rogue had slithered their way silently through the balcony and eyed the room around them.

The stealthy blue tiefling stood silently as their eyes scanned the room, unblinking. A massive canopied bed sat in the center of the room. To their right was a fine, dark wooden dresser ornamented with the Verikov's signature silver sat under a large, fine tapestry that was woven with fine purple thread. White flowers dotted with crimson red colors decorated the fine fabric that waved gently with the desert breeze that blew in through the large balcony. To the left of the room was a large dressing screen, a long silver mirror, and a vanity lined with an assortment of fine silver jewels. The rogue’s teal eyes widened at the glinting metal and quickly strided over the soft stone floor, their long, devilish tail flicking in excitement.

One by one, the unblinking rogue grabbed the pieces of jewelry off the vanity and threw them into a small pouch at their side. There was a necklace with a large purple stone nestled in between finely crafted, delicate silver chains, bracelets that were solid in their shape and etched with fine lines reminiscent to the ivy that hung off the outer walls of the mansion, an arm band that was shaped to mimic the elegant vines of a vineyard, and a pair of silver earrings that swirled and shifted into a sharp, hanging design. The meek tiefling admired each jewel as they tossed it into the pouch.

The subtle sound of the breeze that blew gently into the room mixed romantically with the gentle flutter of the sheer silk curtains that lined the pillars at each corner of the magnificent bedchamber. There was the subtle sound of chatter from the balconies below, but besides that, the evening was calm. Quiet. Sublime. The subtle glow of late sunset filled the room with a red hue, shifting the white walls and the lavender fabrics of the room into soft pink shades that were rosy in hue. As the rogue grabbed the last of the jewels, they turned to make their quiet escape just down the pillar they originally scaled, but suddenly froze. Something caught their eye.

On the chair of the vanity table was a fine silk dress with soft silver embellishments on the straps and around the waist. The fabric was reminiscent of the curtains that fluttered effortlessly behind the rogue, and those wide teal eyes became transfixed and unwavering.

The rogue’s tail twitched nervously as they reached a long, delicate hand out and ran it across the long, flowing skirt. The rogue smiled giddily, though kept their voice contained. Their hand began to squeeze at the sheer silk, ready to claim the garment for themselves.

“Excuse me,” a woman interrupted.

The rogue’s hand flew away from the dress and turned towards the sound. Next to the dressing screen now was a short, beautiful elven woman wrapped in a plush purple towel. Her long, blonde hair was pulled away from her face and hung down her back. Droplets of water dripped from her hair and soaked the soft, luxurious amethyst rug at her small, elegant feet. Her purple eyes pierced into the rogue, who stood frozen, almost like an opossum playing dead.

“What in the hells do you think you’re doing with my things?” she asked with a stern, steady voice. One hand rested on her hip while the other kept her towel secure around her petite torso.

The rogue was as still as a statue. Their tail didn’t flick or waver, and their hands were frozen above the dress they had been admiring only a moment ago. They stared back at the Verikov woman with wide, alert eyes. The elven woman stared back at the intruder with an intimidating stare, her eyes narrowing in dominance. Those lovely lilac eyes were terrifying in their fierceness. The rogue had to swallow.

“You will return my things at once,” she demanded. The rogue did not move.

“Well?” she asked again, becoming impatient. Her lovely face slowly began to twist with her anger. The rogue still did not move.

“Do you even know where you are? Who I am?” The rogue stared blankly at her without acknowledging the question. “I am Vero Verikov, the heiress of the Verikov family, and I will not take thieves lightly. Do you understand?” The rogue only stared, as if her words meant nothing.

The woman sighed in frustration. “I will only say this one more time: return my things at once. Stealing from a Verikov is punishable by death, you know.” The rogue’s tail flicked nervously, but only for a brief second.

The two stared one another down. The rogue was frozen just above the Verikov’s dress, while the heiress had her hand at her side, slowly rotating as she stared challenging at the intruder. After an agonizing moment of stillness, the rogue finally managed to do something: they jumped out the window.

“Wha- hey!” the Verikov woman cried. She quickly pointed her fingers towards the rogue and sent a glistening bolt of ice just above their head. It flew over the rogue and dissipated into the sky in a glimmering cloud of fog. She dashed for the edge of the balcony that lined her room, only to see that the rogue had slid down the pillar in a flash, their black cape trailing above them, and was now off on a mad dash towards the greenery that lined the edges of the manor’s estate. In a panic, the Verikov woman wailed a howling song and threw another bolt of ice at the rogue’s feet in an attempt to stop them. The rogue felt themself grow dizzy out of nowhere and nearly tripped over the icy patch that bloomed just in front of their feet. The rogue was quick though despite the sudden spinning of their vision and stepped to the side, continuing to dash through the gardens like a drunk shadow.

As the rogue fled into the distance, three guards came rushing at the sound of the heiress’s wailing. “My lady!” they called, “we will catch the intruder!”