Chapter 5

  When Dustin stood up, Matt saw his left arm pulled up at an awkward angle as if almost fixed there. “Glad you’re here old friend,” he said

  “Is that from the accident,” Matt thought. While he was focused on the left arm, he missed the right hand flying towards his face until it was too late. He tried ducking out of the way of the overhand right, but his reaction was delayed by the distraction of Dustin’s arm. The fist caught Matt in the temple instead of the jaw where Dustin had been aiming. The impact sent Matt crashing back into the door of the room. “I always said if I saw you again, I’d kill you,” Dustin roared.

  “No! Dustin stop,” Kelly screamed. crossing the room to try to stop him. “I get it, if I were you, I’d want to too, but you have a wife and kids now. You can’t have this kind of reaction. You got your shot in. Leave it at that and just go ahead and go home. It doesn’t need to go further than that.”

  Breathing heavily, he looked at her. “Maybe you’re right.” He turned back toward the door to leave, and realized when Matt had fallen into it, the door had shut. “Move out of my way you piece of shit.” Stepping over Matt who was trying to slide out from in front of the door, Dustin grabbed the door handle and turned. Nothing happened. “What the fuck?” He turned the handle in both directions, and pulled as hard as he could, but the door was locked. “What the actual fuck, man? Fucking great, now we’re all stuck in here. Fantastic”

  All three of them gave a frightened jump when they heard the sinister, gravelly voice. “Welcome players. I see we have finally all arrived this evening and are ready to pl-”

  “Who the hell was that?” Dustin yelled. “No, this isn’t what I was showing up for. No one said he would be here. Let me the fuck out of here goddammit!”

  The cold voice gave a menacing laugh. “On the contrary, this is exactly what you showed up for. You are all here to play a little game long lost. That’s exactly why you all showed up just to have fun playing a game. You won’t be stuck in this room long, I promise”

  Still rubbing the side of his head, clearing the stars from his eyes, Matt got up. “Look Dustin, Kelly, if I had known, I wouldn’t have shown up here tonight. Or maybe I would have. I don’t know. I don’t even remember making the decision to come. But either way if I had known that this was a ploy to get the three of us together, I wouldn’t have even opened that email. I can never explain to you guys how much I hate the way things went down, and how screwed up everything made me.

  “Let me try to call my girlfriend Beth and let her know where I am and that we’re stuck here.” Matt picked up his phone, which had gone sliding across the floor when Dustin punched him. He looked at the screen, but it was blank. He tapped the screen trying to get it to come up, but it remained a black screen. “What the hell?” He tried hitting the power button also to no effect. “I think my battery must have died. Can one of you guys call someone to let them know we’re stuck in here?”

  Both Dustin and Kelly pulled their phones from their pockets. “Ummm, mine is dead too” Kelly said, looking up between the two with panic in her voice. “I know I just charged it before I left the house.”

  “Mine too.” Dustin said.

  The laughter filled the room again. “I told you we’re here to play a game. Just sit down. You can leave here soon enough.”

  “This isn’t funny asshole” Dustin yelled to the disembodied voice.

  “Look man, I agree with you, but I’m not sure we have a choice. There are no windows to bust out in here, the door is locked, our phones are dead. It’s a sick joke, but maybe it is just a joke. We play the game, and we can go home. Go our separate ways.”

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Kelly said, “but I agree with Matt”

  Dustin pulled his chair back out with his good arm, and sat down. “Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Let’s get it over with I guess.”

  “That’s better,” the voice said as Matt and Kelly both sat down at their seats as well. Now, there is a pool of dice sitting in the middle of the table. Please each of you take 4D6.

  They each started rummaging through the pile looking for the 6 sided dice. There were dice of every color and design imaginable. Kelly started grabbing dice of vivid blues, purples and pinks. She had always had to have what she called the pretty dice. Dustin and Matt each grabbed the first 4 dice they could find.

  “Isn’t this better?” the three of them heard. “Now, as you all know, I asked you to come up with a brief backstory for the characters you decided to play tonight. Go ahead and share those stories with your fellow party members.

  They each looked at each other. “Who’s going to go first” Kelly asked the other two.

  Dustin grabbed his paper. “I will. Like I said, let's just do this and get it over with so I can go home. I’m going with a Goliath Barbarian named Matho Thunderfist” and he began to read:

  They always said I wasn’t the sharpest axe in the armory. And, well... they’re not wrong. But I am the biggest. And the strongest. And I have the sharpest axe. And if you ask me, that counts for more than all the fancy thinkin’ in the world.

  I was born up in the Frostpine Mountains, where the air’s thin, the beer is strong, and everything worth doin’ involves either punchin’, liftin’, or shoutin’.

  My clan, Thunderfist, if the name didn’t give it away, don’t care much for books or spells or sneaky tricks. They care about strength. Real strength. The kind you can measure in broken bones and dented helmets. And lucky for me, I was real good at that from the start.

  Didn’t take long ‘fore I was winnin’ every wrestlin’ match and out-drinkin’ lads twice my age. Got my name sung in the mead halls. Not with tunes or nothin’, just folks yellin’, “Matho! Matho! Punch him again!” So, I did. And I liked it.

  But after a while, even the mountains started feelin’ small. I’d fought everyone worth fightin’, drank every keg dry, and broke so many chairs the elders started makin’ me stand outside. So, I figured I’d take this big ol’ body of mine down into the world and see what else needs smashin’.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  That’s how I ended up in Duskwatch. Big city. Weird smells. Too many words I don’t understand. But they’ve got taverns, coin, and plenty of folks who look like they could use a good thumpin’. Or a drinkin’ buddy. Or both.

  I don’t get politics. I don’t get magic. I definitely don’t get why people whisper when they could just yell. But I get loyalty. I get friends. And I get the simple joy of solvin’ life’s problems with a well-placed punch. Or, if that don’t work, another round of ale.

  So, here I am. Matho Thunderfist. Lookin’ for work, for trouble, and maybe a pint or ten. Come what may, I’ll face it like I always do—with a grin on my face and my fists up.

  Let’s dance.

  When he finished, the cold voice responded, “Not bad. It appears you all have your tank. Let’s hear what Kelly is bringing to the table shall we”

  Kelly, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said “alright, here we go. This is a Tiefling Warlock named Kaelira Nightbloom.” Kelly started to read:

  They say nobility comes with privilege. Wealth. Influence. Education. In my case? A cursed library and a birthright soaked in secrets. My name is Kaelira Nightbloom, though once, long ago, I was Kaelira of House Nightbloom, heir to a legacy draped in silk and shadow.

  My family wore masks of propriety in public. But behind velvet curtains and gilded doors, they whispered to things that answered back. I was drawn to those whispers. A curious child. Bright. Too bright, perhaps. When I found the tome, it wasn’t locked away. It waited, patient, as if wanting to be found. The ink on its pages crawled like smoke. The words whispered to me.

  I should have stopped. I should have burned it. But power is a seductive song, and I was so very eager to sing along.

  I spoke the incantation. I bled for it. And something answered.

  The void was velvet and rot. Ancient. Forgotten. It promised power, purpose, freedom. But every gift has a price. Mine was my soul, shackled in silence to a being whose name I dare not speak, lest it remember how tightly it holds me.

  I left the manor in ashes. Whether by fire or abandonment, I no longer care. The noble title means nothing now. I walk alone. I prefer it that way. People are easier to manage from a distance—or under the spell of a well-placed smile and a little harmless misdirection. Lies are just truths we haven’t decided on yet.

  But I haven’t given up. The pact may have claimed my soul, but not my will. Not yet. There are ways to sever such bonds, or so I’ve heard in the whispers of the arcane underworld. Relics lost to time. Forgotten artifacts with divine or profane power. One in particular draws me now, hidden somewhere in the shadows of Duskwatch. A city that stinks of secrets and sin. My kind of place.

  Will it save me, or damn me further?

  “Haha, again I like it. You have your tank who doesn’t like magic, immediately followed by a warlock. That should balance nicely. Let’s see what our third party member has in store for us shall we?”

  Matt wasn’t sure, but the room felt like it had gotten colder over the last few minutes. He gave a shiver, and told the other two “I’m playing an Elf Rogue named Astren Xelthar. You may be surprised to find he has a troubled past.” When the other two just sat staring at him, he laughed. “Well, I thought that was funny. Anyway, here goes nothing:

  Astren Xelthar

  You don’t forget the smell of burning canvas. Not if you lived through it.

  It was a warm night when the stars hung like silver lanterns above the coast of Velmire. The crowd roared, drunk on wine and wonder, as I danced through the air on a ribbon of silk, twisting, flipping, flying. That was always my favorite part. That moment mid-twist, high above the stage when everything slowed. It felt like flying. Like freedom.

  The Vel-Aelari were my family. A circus of outcasts, performers, dreamers. Elves with wandering souls and quick fingers. We dazzled by day, lifted purses by night. Not out of malice. We had our code. Take from the corrupt. Trick the greedy. Never draw blood.

  But we made a mistake.

  We were careless in Velmire. One performance, one score too many. We lifted a ring, ancient and heavy with power, from a noble whose name meant nothing to me at the time. A name I now spit like poison. Tharion Valecrest. It was just another trinket. Another glittering lie to sell for coin.

  Then the killing began.

  They came days later. Not city guards, not enforcers. These were mercenaries—clean, silent, merciless. I awoke to screams and fire, the scent of pitch and blood thick in the air. Blades slashed through canvas like paper. I watched Mira, our fire-dancer, the closest thing I had to a sister, cut down before she could even reach her daggers.

  I didn’t fight. I didn’t run. I hid.

  Cowardice? Maybe. But survival teaches a different kind of courage.

  I slipped beneath the wreckage of our stage, heart hammering, lungs burning as the smoke thickened. I lay there until dawn, unmoving. Listening.

  When the sun rose, the camp was ash. Something in me burned away with it.

  I drifted after that, through back alleys and gutter towns, until I found myself in Duskwatch. A city that doesn’t ask where you’ve been, only what you can steal. I traded silk for shadow. Smiles for silence. Learned to vanish in a blink and strike in the dark. The names changed—"Rat", "Ghost", "Knifeblade"—but I kept my own tucked away like the daggers in my boots.

  Eventually, I heard whispers. Valecrest’s dealings. His reach. His secrets. So, I joined a crew. One big job. One perfect heist that would put me within spitting distance of the man who took everything from me.

  But there are no perfect jobs.

  We were set up. Maybe someone talked. Maybe someone wanted me dead. Alarms rang. Blood spilled. I fled. Again.

  Now, I’m back in the gutters of Duskwatch. Hurt. Hunted. Breathing. And waiting.

  Because I’ve learned something in the quiet hours between fire and steel. Revenge isn’t about rage.

  It’s about patience.

  And when I finally sink my blade into Tharion Valecrest’s heart, I want him to know the name Astren Xelthar.

  When Matt finished, the voice filled the room again. “Phenomenal, it looks like we have a pretty well balanced party. Hope you don’t find yourself in need of a cleric to heal you too often though. Now, we have our backstories out of the way, you each have four 6 sided dice. Your character sheets are in front of you. You need to roll all 4 of those dice, add them up, then subtract the lowest number. Once you have done this, select which of your 6 categories to place that stat in. You’ll do this for each stat category. Have fun”

  They each grabbed the dice in front of them, gave them a shake and each dropped the dice in front of them on the table. Matt’s first roll was not too bad. The dice landed on a 6,5,4 and a 2. He dropped the 2 for a total of 15. “That’s not a bad start,” he thought, but I might still get something higher that I’ll need to throw into dexterity. Let me put this in intelligence, and we’ll fill out around that.”

  After a couple of minutes of rolling, he had filled out everything but dexterity. He was beginning to worry. He needed this last roll to be good, or he was going to be a rogue who depended on sleight of hand and being able to move stealthily, who couldn’t do either of those things well. The 15 had been his highest roll so far. He had numbers ranging from 14 to 10 that he had placed in the other 4 categories.

  He looked at the other two. They both looked to be filling in their final rolls. It looked like Dustin was going to have incredible strength, but be as dumb as a box of rocks. His rolls played out just as his backstory had laid out for him. Kelly wasn’t in as good of shape as Dustin was going to be in, but her charisma stat that would help her spell casting ability was solid.

  Matt picked his four dice up again, gave them a shake, and rolled them across the table in front of him. He saw the first die stop on a 2 and his stomach dropped. “Let that be the one I drop.” He looked and saw one of the dice was a 6, another was a 5. “That’s better.” The fourth die had stopped in a shadow thrown by the dm screen next to him. He picked the die up and to take a look, saw a 6, and let out a sigh of relief.

  As soon as he wrote the 17 on his paper, the light flickered once. The three of them looked at each other, and almost laughed in spite of themselves when the light flickered again. Then the room went dark, and the world was filled with that cold, dark, menacing laugh. “Welcome to Duskwatch.”