Chapter 1:
Chaos. Defined as complete disorder and confusion. It was something that a woman growing up on the streets would know very well. It was something that she learned to thrive in. So when the caravan exploded in sparking flames around her, and the guards shouted out in shock and fear, Zaphera was in her natural element. Her red hair whipped around her as the wind forced the flames to flicker, the setting suns light only adding to the eerie effect that she cast over the group of travelers. A smug smile spread over her face, proud of her handy work. Her skilled hands closing the clasp of her pouch without an effort and latching it back to her belt just in time to dodge a speeding arrow. Laughing as she moved with the practiced skill she had perfected over years, the arrows missed their intended mark, embedding themselves in trees along the road. With one last graceful movement the woman jumped off of the destroyed caravan, her healed boots barely making a sound on the dirt when she landed, and moved to dart to the tree line with a swish of her long tail.
"Tiefling witch!" The shout was one she had heard many times before, so much so that she no longer flinched at the term. Her solid grey eyes cast a glance back at the guards, a glint of mischief and madness within them as she turned to face them once again. Her pale skin catching the ebbing violet rays of the sun, a smile spreading over her lips as her right arm danced in a well practiced move.
"The correct term," her voice, though slightly raspy, still displayed her femininity. Her confident aura coming through in her speech. "Is sorceress." The guards screamed, her summoned hound's jaws locking on their target as she watched with cold eyes. It was a scene she had played out many times, always the same. The crackling of flames was soon the only sound that split the silence, familiar but in no way comforting. She knelt onto the ground as the hound returned to her side, it's form covered in the comforting shadows that she learned to control. "Good boy Wrath." She whispered, scratching the hound on his long snout while looking back at the carnage she had created. What was once a nobleman's caravan traveling into the city of Hope was now a destroyed and burning mass of wood. Everyone within its confines had been killed from the sorceress' first spell, the fireball hitting perfectly. From there it took only seconds to loot the burning mass of its spoils, the guards too stunned to do much other than stare in shock. The tiefling grit her teeth, she hated the noble guards for reasons beyond the fact that they were troublesome in her heists.
She dismissed the hound, which faded into a cloud of shadows from where it came, and stood. Her eyes darted back in the direction of the city, Hope. The city of the so called "good" tieflings. More like the place where the ones that survived the war with the dragonborn took refuge and remained. The cities inhabitants all attempted to be better than their ancestors, better than the humans that had made a deal with the devils. But they still had a way to go, Zaphera knew this well. Thieves, assassins and rogues filled the city better than the rats in the walls of castles. She was one of them after all, a highway robber, a thief. One of the best in the city, but not by choice. A sigh escaped her lips, the sun disappearing from the sky and casting the land into darkness, her one source of comfort.
Taking one last look back at the now smoldering remains of her target, the tiefling turned and began the walk back to the city. No one would bother her at this time of night, most knew to settle down after the sun set. So she traveled without interruption, giving her time to look herself over and assess any damage she might have taken. Her brown leather corset top and blouse were without harm, covered by the crimson cloak slung over her shoulders, the hood covering her matching red horns. Her leggings had a few more rips in them from dodging arrows, but they were minor in comparison to the many that she already had. Her boots were slightly scuffed, the matching brown leather worn from the sheer number of times she had worn them. Her two colored tail had a few small burns but they didn't hurt in the slightest, and the small scratches she did have scattered about her body would heal over night. She ran a hand over her face, feeling for any sign of injuries. The three scars that spread over each cheek were still there, same with the few around her left eye and neck. But four small scratches had added themselves across the bridge of her nose, most likely caused by rummaging though the burning debris. She shrugged them off, just a few more scars to add to the variety that already spanned her body, and the mismatched horns and tail colors, colors that speckled up her spine from the base of her tail like the small freckles that spanned her cheeks.
She was so deep in thought she hadn't realized that she had passed into the city, only realizing it as the familiar sounds of cats running in the streets and other thieves such as herself dodged in and out of the shadows unseen. Her strides lengthened, the heals of her boots clacking against the stone streets of the town. Confidence and danger clear in her every movement, as though she was daring some poor soul to confront her, challenge her. None did. She reached her destination quickly, entering though the wooden door without a knock or any warning. Not that the old shop keeper inside needed any, he knew to expect her ahead of time. His dark grey skin blended in with the dreary walls and poorly lit confines, even his matching eyes didn't catch the little light that shown. He set down a knife he had been polishing, no emotion on his face as he watched the female walk in proudly.
"What'cha got for me this time?" He hadn't gotten his full question out as the woman tossed her pouch over to him, clinking from contact against the wooden counter. A small smile pulled at the other tieflings face, beginning to rummage through the goods that the thief had collected. "Quite the treasures you were able to find this time."
"Better had been worth my while." The female resorted, crossing her arms and leaning against one of the support beams. The mans eyes darting to her at the words, placing the goods she had collected along the counter. "Anything I can get for them?"
"Ya want other goods or gold?"
"What kind of goods do ya have?" She asked, leaning forward and watching as the male brought out twin daggers.
"Silver," was the only word he said, drawing the blades and showing that they were indeed made of silver. The female's eyes sparkled and she nodded her head as she stepped forward. She grabbed the daggers from the male, as he in turn swept her stolen goods from the countertop.
"Any news as of late?" The female asked, attaching one of the two daggers to her right leg and the other onto the back of her belt, safely hidden by her cloak. The man nodded as he secured the goods into a safe and then turned back to the female.
"Not your usual news however."
"What do you mean?"
"The Emperor Maaz," the male started, "apparently he has gathered a team of heroes."
The female huffed her distaste, "and what does that have to do with any of us?" Her eyes narrowed at the male, her mind running a thousand thoughts a second.
"These aren't normal heroes child," the older tiefling spoke sharply, "Five have been selected so far, an elven ranger, a half-elf druid, a gnome wizard, a black dragonborn rogue-" The male was cut short at the females harsh growl, her sharpened canine teeth glistening in the soft and dim light. He understood her hatred of dragonborns just as much as any tiefling would, the female born during the height of the war, her parents dying in the attack that killed so many of them.
"What is the fifth?" She asked after having calmed herself down, her hands still clutched into fists.
"A bard," the male started, the female looking to him with questioning eyes. "A half-dragon dragonborn."
"A what?" The female questioned.
"Half-dragon dragonborn." The shopkeeper said again, "From the rumors spreading about the group his father is a blue dragonborn, his mother a bronze dragon. He is said to be the strongest of the group, and that lightning runs through his veins instead of blood." The female nodded her head, storing the information in her mind as she asked for the male to continue.
"And the others?"
"It has been said that the druid has traveled everywhere. He can turn into anything of this earth that is not a monster. The elf has the keenest eyes of any creature, she has never missed a shot with her bow." He paused, returning to polishing the knife he had been before. "The wizard is said to be their leader, and though he is short he knows more than any library filled with books. And the black dragonborn, cautious and dangerous. He can disappear into nothing and fade into a crowd as though he was never there." The female said nothing more as she thought over the information she had been given as the other tiefling continued. "The Emperor is looking for other such heroes, it is said he has his eyes set on a sorcerer now."
"Any information on what sorcerer?" She asked, crossing her arms and watching the male as he stood from his spot. Her eyes narrowing as his form seemed to shimmer. With a sudden realization she readied a spell, only just too late as the room around her faded, her vision slowly going black as her legs failed her. And just before she crashed to the ground unconscious she heard him speak.
"You, my dear shadow sorceress."