Beyond the boundaries of a particularly uninteresting forest lay the kingdom of Gentile on the continent of Natar. The kingdom was a lush and verdant land that could be considered a haven of life, prosperity and abundance. Unfortunately, that bounty was beset with monsters not all of them horrifying in appearance, some were dressed like politicians. Gentile could be aptly described in two words: disconnected and corrupt. The ruling class, nobles and high born were a stock that was as genuine and generous as they were large and scaly, so far none among could claim to be dragons even if they sat on a hoard of gold like one. These nefarious officials plied their trade through ruthless deals, cutthroat schemes, robbing the under privileged and the occasional backstabbing both literally and figuratively. As such the Gentile people were disillusioned, taken advantage of and beaten down, once again figuratively and literally. Bandits, marauders, and wild monsters terrorized the inhabitants, while the nobles did little to assist their charges. Only the likes of wanderers or contracted mercenaries and adventurers would assist though the latter rarely worked without a reward. Even monster slayers must eat, and charity did little to fill their bellies. For outside parties this would an untenable abuse of power and blatant disregard for innocent well beings. For the people of Gentile, it was Tuesday. Within one hamlet the broken populace faced even worse treatment due to being on the edge of the kingdom. They were more or less governed by a band of brigands turned overlords who had one simple rule: do what you are told or be sent to work in the mine.
The mine had been unearthed following a series of localized quakes caused by magical emanations felt across the continent. The origins of which were being studied by mystical experts’ miles from the affected hovel. Within the dark reaches a certain crystalline substance was discovered, it was known as Dragons’ Teeth due to the yellow colouration and curved spike formations. The crystals were considered a highly marketable ingredient for one of the most illicit, addictive and ludicrously rare drugs out there. Single nodes were discovered in seemingly random locations across the country and beyond with no common factor found in their formation. Unfortunately for the town’s inhabitants, below this forgettable little village was a treasure trove of teeth waiting to be harvested. Word spread and a caravan of ruffians seized the town and mine in one fell swoop. From then on, no traffic was allowed in or out of the area except for those hawking the crystals to wealthy buyers in the capital. The once peaceful villagers were turned into a manual work force and playthings for the invading outlaws. Many residents simply grinned and bared the abuse believing once the well ran dry they could return to a simple life while those opposing their oppressors didn’t last long.
After more than twenty years, the mine simply never ceased production, miles of tunnels snaking underground to yet more dragon’s teeth veins. Very few of the towns’ villagers remained above ground, the majority forced to reside in the mine’s depths where they worked night and day for their captors. The dangerous conditions and rapid expansion sapped at the peoples moral while their numbers fell by the day. Hope never died though, hope for release, hope for escape and hope for the sun to beat down on the weary workers faces once again. A hope fostered by one man who refused to give in and would sooner throw himself into the depths than see his fellows lose heart. He was originally a travelling scholar, or so he claimed, who just happened to be staying in the town when the mine was discovered. Though confined to the depths like all the others, the traveller proved his worth entertaining the guards and workers alike with anecdotes, jokes and stories of enrapturing detail. He was a ray of sunshine in the dark reaches and fostered peaceful relations between the tortured workforce and guards creating an uneasy alliance. A happy work force was a docile work force after all, or atleast he could give the illusion of happiness. These people were so pitiable any simple kindness was seen as a gift from the heavens.
Thus, the traveller became their spokesperson liaising with the guards, amicably ending disputes and giving the young someone to learn from. For years Siradum the Wise, or just Siradum, honoured his namesake passing his knowledge to those young and old who would listen always careful not to reveal too much lest his usefulness come to an end. While they were forced to work, he told stories from distant lands, when they rested, he would inspire the people to think and act on their own. He told jokes, he taught philosophy, he comforted men and women alike as they wept over the agonizing days and became their true confidant. For the children born of the mine he was their icon, a glimpse into the outside world and what they could make of themselves. No one was more enthralled than Siradum’s own de facto daughter, an all-too-common orphan whom the man elected to look after. When asked why, he would always stare into some far-off corner and say she reminded him of someone long gone from this world. In his darkest moments he would look into his daughter’s blue eyes and find his own resolve restored. He had no legacy to leave but within this small child he would be the best Papa he could.
As the years rolled by, Siradum watched the girl grow and learn with such a fervour it inspired him to do better as well. She would always be there to listen, to learn, to wonder just what the outside could be. When he held “class” she was at the front interrupting his lessons with questions from the profound to the obvious. What is the sky? Where do rivers come from? Where do they go? What is magic? Why are there bears? And many more, which did not make her popular amongst her peers, always consuming the lessons with her inane prattling.
Her standing within the community only dropped further when Siradum mysteriously disappeared leaving behind not a trace, parting words or scrap of evidence for what happened to him. Rumours circulated that he cut another deal granting him leave from the deep dark depths or that he was a former guard who had finally earned back his rightful place. They were baseless lies and many of Siradum’s most avid followers refused to hear a single insult to the man’s name. All except the girl, who didn’t take a side, didn’t react, and didn’t seem to care her only parent was gone. Instead, she simply decided she would ask Papa where he had gone after she left the mine, working tirelessly during the day and at night planning her grand escape.
The schemes she concocted were as rudimentary as a child could manage but frequent enough the guards came to hate her. She’d run while the guards’ changed shifts, she hid below carts transporting Dragon’s Teeth to the surface, she once tried to impersonate a guard using pieces of armour she had stolen over months. Each time she was caught, beaten and sent back to the mine. Yet the girl persisted, she would wait and watch knowing eventually her jailers would turn their back, grow bored or lose sight of her and then she would be off again.
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In preparation for her most daring escape to date, she fashioned a makeshift shiv from an oddly durable rock. She chipped away the edge any chance she got until it was a finely sharp tool. While helping to transport a shipment of Dragon’s teeth towards the surface under the bored eye of a fat old guard she struck. Jamming the knife into her captor’s leg and pushing him to the ground, the girl snagged the keys to her shackles unlocking them with finesse. She watched the guards do the same actions numerous times and mimicked their movements whenever she could. The girl offered to free her fellow inmates, yet they refused fearing the punishment they would undoubtedly suffer. It was alright she could come back for them. Papa Siradum talked of heroes in his stories, and she would find some to liberate the mine. And if she couldn’t find any, she would work to become a villain and rain disaster on this cave of torment.
Leaving the wounded guard behind the girl ran, faster and free-er than ever before searching for the exit. What she found instead was the guard captain awaiting the latest shipment with a regiment of his men. In her haste to escape the girl had thrown caution to the wind and failed to account for her route out of the mine. One bloodied and battered face later the girl was shackled yet again, but the captain had grown tired of her antics and sought to be rid of the nuisance altogether. Roughly grabbing her hair and dragging her up from where she lay bruised on the floor the captain stared at the rebel. She smiled innocently and spat bloody phlegm into his face. He threw her roughly to the floor and wiped at the stain before uttering words that chilled his men to the bone.
“Send this wretch to confinement.”
He ordered, hate and disdain filling his words. Confinement rooms were hollowed out crevices located near the top of the mine. When troublemakers first started to appear, the guards were unprepared and resorted to locking away the miscreants into pitch black dead ends then sealing them in with a boulder. Most emerged shaken but ultimately fine after just a day of confinement, those that were locked away for a week weren’t so lucky. In a rare show of mercy, the guards chose to stop using confinement, it didn’t help too many workers were becoming insane and prone to self-harm. Dragged along by two guards, the girl was brought to one such cell the pitch-black expanse darker than dark should be. Without a moments remorse, she was roughly thrown in with a single apple her only meal and sealed in place, not a crack or hole to let any light in.
On the first day, the girl lay on the ground recovering from her wounds and planning a new escape, she moved the smallest bit closer to the exit and needed to capitalize on any and all opportunities. On the second day, she paced around the room feeling for gaps and protrusions while taking miniscule bites of her apple. She couldn’t see anything so touch was the only sense she could rely on. From the third to the sixth day, she ranged from screaming at the walls, slamming her back against the stone seal and cackling madly, sometimes all three at once. On the seventh, the girl sat rocking back and forth while staring into the darkness she had come to know like a true friend. The apple was gone, core, stem and all consumed some time ago although her stomach refused to accept facts rumbling and aching in pain. It made such funny sounds she thought as her mind teetered on the brink of despair. Why had she ever tried to escape? Why had she bothered? What was the point of any of it? Why hadn’t she cast herself into the deepest part of the cave or used the shiv on herself? Why did she need to be alive? Her heart rung out in agony as she cursed herself and the parents that birthed her. Then she thought of her Papa who raised her despite neither sharing a drop of blood, and a calm settled upon her. It was because he taught her to want more, to strive upward and onward, to be something more than her origins. That was why she was alive, in his honour and because she deserved the right just like everyone else. As a mixture of pain and heart ache consumed the girl she fell into a deep sleep and dreamed a most vivid dream.
Within this world there was magic and wonder, demons and monsters, men, elves, dwarves and many more. Above all was the divine, a collection of deities who once reigned personally over their world until disappearing into the background. Their presence is still felt everywhere and the faithful hold true that they will return to guide their world once again. The clearest example of this was the gift of foresight. For those destined to enact change or save a people on the brink of destruction the divine will grant them a vision. It is never the same and none could prove if it truly happened yet stories were abound of heroes seeing the moment of a courageous fight and finding the resolve to persevere. Others claimed to taste electricity in the air and save a loved one from the stroke of thunder. One had only received the whisper of a name they never knew only to find their one true love bearing the same name. Unfortunately, the most common vision is that of demise, the moment a warrior loses their weapon slipping from their grasp at the pivotal moment. A paragons virtue and faith sacrificed by an impossible decision. The final clash that claims both hero and villain alike. A flame burns brightest when just about to go out and the divine are forced to witness each moment only granting the rarest of few a glimpse.
In a cave that transcended darkness a lone girl, curled into a ball, slept and received just such a vision. Rather than the flash of something indescribable, she was gifted true foresight, a real glimpse of what was to come. Jolted from her sleep she was frightened beyond comprehension recalling the image as it played again and again in her mind. It was outstanding, it was terrible, it was beautiful, it was horrifying, it was her. It was a moment in time that would inevitably come to pass in the girl’s life. She focused on the image trying to burn it into her mind’s eye and preserve the clarity. For hours she sat with her knees against her chest staring at nothing while she imagined the vision and tried to gleam every detail she could. And then clarity, the vision forever set into her psyche.
Her heart slowed its incessant beating becoming a calm rhythm. The pain throughout her body grew dull and insignificant. A devilish grin appeared on the girls face and she accepted the truth she had been given. Sometime in the future, in a town she did not recognise, she would stand atop a hill of destruction while orange and red light flickered around her. She would look towards the sky reach her hand out and then collapse. It was her last moment, her dying breath and the last thing she would ever do. Some who received these visions did all they could to avoid them ultimately playing right into fates hands and causing the events to occur regardless. The girl, however, saw only what she truly wanted, she was going to escape this hell. Maybe not now, but eventually she would. It gave her an assurance not many could attain. Not only that, but she also now knew her death was preordained sometime in the future so while she could be hurt, maimed, tortured or nearly killed nothing in this world could end her. If anyone had been present to watch over the girl they would notice the instant it happened. Her body stopped shaking, the colour in her eyes disappeared, a cold chill ran throughout her soul and all ability to feel fear left her as she attained the Aspect of Shadow. On the ninth day, the girl’s imprisonment ended and Samantha was released unto a world that was not prepared for what she would bring about.