The Cinders
Scene: “The Dungeon Below”
Location: The Deep Cells, Whitestone Citadel, beneath the Dungeon Tower where justice is only a word and mercy is extinct. The air smells of rust, mildew, and old screams.
The Group in Chains
The five prisoners sit or slump in separate cells, chained and bruised from unknown charges.
- Reyn Thorne, noble-born wanderer, eyeing the darkness with quiet fury.
- Rheana Thorne, Noble-born rogue, cold and composed, whispering to something in the stone.
- August, tense, calculating, watching every movement with cold detachment.
- Lila Hearthstone, defiant, humming a quiet prayer through cracked lips.
- Cipher Vane, bored, bleeding slightly, sharpening a spoon into a blade.
They do not know each other.
But the silence binds them.
Across the hall, a drow woman sits in her own cell, silent and dangerous.
Enter: Fredric Kelstone
The iron doors creak open.
Fredric Kelstone strides in—broad-shouldered, red-tabarded, and expressionless except for the disgust in his eyes. Behind him, Jean Whitestone, young and conflicted, lingers with guilt across his face.
Fredric Kelstone (snarling):
“You don’t belong here? They all say that. But the gallows swings wide for the quiet ones too.”
He taps a scroll—the execution list—and pauses near each prisoner.
“A druid whispering to rats and it is a Tiefling! Two bastard with a noble name. A Monk without a temple. And a thief with no debt left unpaid a ghost with a dagger smile.”
He stops in front of Cipher and smirks.
“You. I’ve had your name on my desk before.”
Jean’s Plea
Jean Whitestone:
“They haven’t been judged, Fredric. The charges are scattered. I’ll speak to my grandfather. Please—just give me a day.”
Fredric (snapping):
“A day for what? A day for them to rot slower?”
He storms off. Jean stays behind a moment, stepping close to Reyn’s cell.
Jean (quietly):
“I don’t know why you’re here… but I will find out. Don’t lose hope.”
He turns to leave. His words are sincere.
But sincerity doesn’t unlock chains.
The Drow Woman’s Glare
Reyn makes eye contact with the drow woman across the cell. Her gaze is cool, mocking. She smirks.
Reyn (tense):
“You think this is funny, spider?”
Drow Woman:
“No. But watching noble fools squirm is an old favorite of mine.”
Reyn steps forward, anger rising—but Rheana’s voice grounds him.
He backs down. The drow woman returns to silence, but her hand moves subtly in her lap, conjuring shadows that flicker briefly on the wall.
30 Minutes Pass…
- The guards change shift.
- The dungeons grow quieter.
- A single drop of water echoes like a drum.
Then…
The Doors Explode Open
A streak of black and red bursts through the dungeon door.
Guards collapse in screams—throats slit before they finish cursing.
A blur of blades, fur, and crimson eyes cuts through them like smoke through fire.
Willow Bloodeyes enters.
She is Skaven—the group’s first sighting of one.
Not a rat or a demon in motion.
Eyes like bloodied rubies.
Twin scimitars singing in the torchlight.
She moves to the drow woman’s cell, snapping the lock in two swift strikes.
Willow (silent—no words)
The drow nods, like an old pact has just been fulfilled.
They turn to leave.
The Plea
Lila (quietly):
“Wait… help us. Please.”
Cipher (grinning):
“Come on, vermin. Don’t you want more chaos?”
“Five extra blades. Or five distractions. Either way, a good investment.”
Willow pauses.
She tilts her head. She says nothing.
Then, wordlessly, she flicks a dagger that bounces off every lock, breaking chains in a blink.
The group is free.
And Willow Bloodeyes?
She’s already vanished.
End Scene: First Glimpse of the Skaven
Reyn, breathing heavy, watches the shadows ripple behind where Willow stood.
Reyn:
“What in the gods’ name was that?”
Rheana (softly):
“Something worse than us… or better. We’ll see.”
Chains drop to the floor.
And for the first time, five strangers stand together, free—but hunted.
Ryen's Dragons
Cinder
Lumi
Umbra
Scyana Dragons
Ella
Former Members
The Shattered Flame
"Where horned gods whisper, and old friends fall to blades bought with regret."
"When the gods mock, the cursed burn. When friends fall, no one leaves untouched."
The Cave in the North
North of the Whitestone Mountains, The Cinders found Agadra Gora, the Valkyrie once sealed beneath snow and storm. But she was not alone.
A White Dragon, ancient and unmoved by mortal pleas, slumbered over a hoard of gold vast enough to fund nations.
Agadra let them live, but only once—the next return would be blood.
Still… they couldn’t ignore the gold.
They fled, for now, but desire gnawed at their thoughts.
After first surviving an encounter with Agadra Gora, the once-sealed Valkyrie turned God Hands Champion, and the ancient White Dragon coiled in frozen gold beneath the Whitestone Mountains, the Cinders withdrew.
Agadra spared them. Once.
They would return. Greed whispered, and the gold glimmered still.
Nórue Lin & The Whitestone Streets
Upon returning to Whitestone, the group came across Nórue Lin—mouthy, bold, and being brutally attacked by five thugs in an alley. Without hesitation, The Cinders stepped in.
Gojo, the albino lunatic, bit one of them.
The thugs fled, bleeding and cursing.
Nórue Lin, bruised and laughing, was welcomed into the circle.
The Estate & The Round Table
Back home, the estate was being renovated—Shaun Underforge was paid to enhance the structure, its defences, and its warmth.
At the heart of it all sat a round table, now occupied by:
Reyn Thorne
Rheana Thorne
Genethia Roth (Neth)
August
Gojo
Cipher Vane
Lila Hearthstone
Nórue Lin
Scyana
They gathered to forge a plan. The past was heavy. The future unclear. But unity, for now, held.
The Gods Answered Wrong
Before departing for the Thieves Guild to speak with Domino, they prayed—for guidance, for luck in crafting.
What they summoned instead were Gods of Madness, Desire, and Corruption:
The gods stood unseen, grinning behind their backs.
Zlaniz cursed five of them—Reyn, Rheana, Cipher, Lila, and Neth—with an unbearable lust.
Not mere temptation. A soul-searing hunger.
"Deny it, and you will unravel. Give in, and live with the weight."
The Grandchildren of Whitestone
Cursed and desperate, they sought release—and found it with nobles.
The curse lifted, but the consequences were sown—noble bloodlines compromised, heirs conceived, and whispers will soon be growing.
The Domino Deal
Domino waited for them. Always watching.
Domino greeted them like always—sharp smile, veiled motives.
Her task: Kill a rogue Fenraith.
She offered a simple contract:
“There is a rogue Fenraith. Kill her. Payment awaits.”
Simple.
But when the Cinders tracked their quarry, they found not a target—but an ally. A missing figure they had once sought. They could not kill her.
Ulystra Fenraith.
Reyn, with honesty, told her the truth of their task. Ulystra was furious, blades drawn.
The fight was brief—she was overpowered but spared.
They refused to kill her. Instead, they knocked her unconscious.
That mercy would not last.
The Choice – Fresia Asher Arrives
From the trees stepped Fresia Asher—descendant of the bloodline of chaos, cloaked in dread, and voice like frostbite.
“You made a deal with me. Kill an Unchained… or I take you all.”
And now, she named her price:
“Ulystra… or all of you.”
The Cinders stood frozen.
Some reached for weapons.
Some looked at Ulystra.
But Genethia Roth—Neth—trembled.
The group considered battle. But Neth trembled—and all knew:
If Genethia Roth feared her, they would not win.
She feared Fresia, and that said enough.
Reyn made the choice.
The Betrayal of Ulystra
With blade in hand and soul bleeding, Reyn Thorne killed Ulystra Fenraith.
He stabbed her in the heart before being force to cut off her head, Fresia watch with an evil smirk on her face.
He took her head for Fresia’s bounty—100,000 gold.
Rheana carried her body to Domino, receiving 10 cold rubies.
They said it was survival.
They said it was strategy.
They said it wasn’t supposed to go this way.
But Ulystra was still dead.
Aftermath at the Round Table
No words.
No celebration.
Only gold that felt heavier than steel.
- Domino, watching from the shadows, knows this was her most important kill—without ever lifting a blade.
- Fresia Asher walks free, knowing that the Unchained are not just dying—they're being harvested.
Caladawn’s Entry
“She was a sword, a flame, and a voice raised against the dark. Ulystra stood against dragons, gods, and tyrants. But her end came not by blade or spell… but by those she might’ve called friends. And now the world feels colder for it.”
“They called themselves Cinders, born from fire. But now they are the ash of something once noble. Ulystra died not for a cause, but for a coin. And though their blades are sharp, their hearts are cracked. The gods laugh, and Fresia watches. And far beneath the Whitestone, the White Dragon waits—its gold untouched. Still. Still.”
