Out of the Abyss – Day 1: The Cage

The world returned to them through a haze of poison and stone.

Balack Rednoir was the first to lift her head, blinking slowly. The heavy weight of a collar bit at her neck, the chains at her wrists clinking lightly as she shifted.
She smiled—small, controlled, a queen dethroned but still very much regal.

"Ah," she whispered under her breath, her voice like silk, "we've been invited to a rather exclusive event."

Around her, the others stirred. Zharina Melinster sat up stiffly, silent but alert. Edith Valor rolled over with a wild grin plastered on her face, still half-drunk on chaos and glee.
Skyme Deleaf blinked twice, then giggled.
"We're guests!" she chirped, rattling her chains like a tambourine.

From the shadows of the slave pen, two figures approached cautiously: a dwarf woman with fiery hair and stern eyes, and a wiry deep gnome grinning from ear to ear.

"Name’s Jimjar," said the gnome with a sweeping bow, chains jingling. "And this is Eldeth. Welcome to paradise."

Balack placed one hand delicately against her throat, as if adjusting an invisible pearl necklace.
"Charmed," she said warmly, her voice smooth as velvet. "I'm Balack. These are my companions." She gestured gracefully to her battered crew.

Eldeth nodded, though her wary gaze lingered on Zharina’s sharp eyes and Skyme’s unsettling smile.

Skyme leaned forward eagerly.
"Balack's gonna kill them all," she whispered, as if it were a secret.

Jimjar chuckled nervously. Eldeth didn’t.

Balack laughed softly, brushing an imaginary speck from her tattered sleeve.
"Don't mind her," she said, eyes twinkling. "We are simply... very motivated to regain our freedom."

Edith bounced in place, her chains clattering.
"And slice things!" she added cheerfully, making a wild swinging motion. "In the name of blessed chaos!"

Balack's smile widened.
"Of course," she said smoothly, casting a sideways glance at Edith. Then, in a lower voice meant only for her friend:
"Please don't drool on the prisoners yet, dear. First impressions matter."

Edith giggled, entirely unrepentant.

Before more could be said, a ripple of movement spread through the cavern. Guards snapped to attention as she appeared — Mistress Ilvara.
Robes like spun night, a scourge in hand, she approached the pen with leisurely malice.
At her side walked Shoor Vandree, young and arrogant, and behind them, a scarred, older drow whose gaze seemed less certain.

Ilvara’s voice cut through the pen like a cold knife:
"You are no longer people. You are property. Accept your fate, and you may live long enough to serve."

She paused before the gate, her cruel smile widening as she looked over the new stock.

Balack dipped her head respectfully, her smile still serene. Inside, she was already considering how many thorns it would take to choke the woman.

Shoor muttered something to Ilvara, who chuckled and stroked his cheek with mock affection.

Zharina said nothing, her eyes dropping in automatic discipline.
Skyme made a rude face behind a chained wrist.
Edith, mercifully, was too busy whispering blessings to invisible chaos gods.

Balack just smiled pleasantly.

As the drow moved on, bowls of thin mushroom broth were shoved through the bars. The smell was enough to gag a troll.

Jimjar shrugged and slurped his portion noisily.
"Best you’ll get," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Eldeth took her bowl with grim efficiency, nodding once to Balack. "Stay strong. Dwarves don't break easily."

Balack accepted her bowl delicately, inspecting it like a wine taster. She turned casually to Edith and murmured under her breath:
"If this is the appetizer, I tremble for the main course."

Edith snorted broth out of her nose, laughing too hard.

Night fell slowly in the endless dark. There was no bedding, no comfort, only stone and cold iron.
The prisoners lay down where they could, chained, collared, breathing the stale, fungal air.

Skyme curled up beside Balack, almost like a loyal puppy.
"I'll stab them all for you if you want," she said sweetly, her voice muffled by Balack’s ragged sleeve.

Balack reached out and patted her hair gently.
"That's very sweet of you, darling," she said, voice still perfectly composed.
"And perhaps... sooner than you think."

Above them, unseen in the blackness, something moved.
A sound like distant wings, like whispers slipping between stone.

And in their uneasy sleep, the darkness seeped into their dreams.