The Lucky Ones

In the Beginning

Lorey walked the weed sparsed outer city road, the twilight sky, squat houses, and already rising smoke from the bonfire he was traveling to painting the marvelous picture of peace. And yet, Lorey thought frustratedly as the strap of his lute dug into the skin of his neck, he could not even enjoy it. As it always was when Lorey participated in something not connected with fighting and killing, his father’s face sat stubbornly in his mind. He hadn't seen him for nearly two decades, not since their last adventure when Lorey was sixteen, but time had not separated the grown half-orc Lorey from the young pup he'd been then, paralyzed by the disgust he'd seen in the great chieftain's face at his own son’s softness. His uselessness.

Lorey shook himself, lute smacking against his broad back as he rubbed the goosebumps from his muscled arms and adjusted the silver bards’ clothes he’d donned for this party. His mother had been dead for several years, but she'd always been proud of him. Had taught him the music, kindness, and thoughtfulness that had made Chieftain Roc desert him on the outskirts of Balder’s Gate that day. Lorey had taken to paying respects to his mother with music for a while now, even before she died; and Chieftain Roc had been only half present his whole childhood, never to be seen again when the oaf discovered Lorey was more his mother’s son than ruthless warrior. What did he have to be afraid of?

Lorey strode into the circle of houses where the bonfire sat burning in the center, other dwellers pouring in from side streets and jogging in behind him from the main road. Summer was finally here, and the hard working farmers and weavers of the Gate would get in as much time as the first long day of the year would allow before the real work began. Several waved and called to Lorey as he greeted friends, evacuating his father’s face from his mind as the party began. Many, many songs later, along with even more cups of mead, Lorey laid in the grass next to the dying fire, accompanied by the first dandelions of the season and his best friend September. The half-drow had sang with him through the night, a true performer who had been brave enough to make her coin at functions like these, whereas he worked on the farms outside the Gate in the summers and took listings for a sword-for-hire when it got cold. September was vibrant and impulsive where he was quiet and unsure - they balanced each other well, he knew, but what he wouldn’t give to be just a bit more like the woman with moonlight shining from her long white hair who was scared of nothing at all. She lay sprawled in her white gauze gown, sandals long abandoned, the sable strands of her hair mingling with Lorey’s midnight curls.
“That may have been the best Summer’s Eve party in the last decade,” September mumbled through a yawn. The sky was the anticipatory dark before sunrise, the stars all winked out and turned in for the morning.
“For the halfling you kissed, I'm sure it was.” September chuckled, the sound warm and safe as the embers illuminating the white patches on Lorey’s skin.
“Aye, she'll not soon forget that. I think that was the cherry atop the fourteen bottles of wine.” Lorey laughed with her then. He groaned as he sat up, noticing the bright orange beam peering around the houses in front of them. “Ugh, don't tell me it's dawn already.” Lorey rubbed his eyes, rising and then holding a calloused hand out to his friend. September’s own callouses scraped his own as she rose, the ever-rising sunlight making the gauze of her dress light up like a flame. She squinted her lavender eyes against it, shading herself with a slender ash hand. Those eyes studied Lorey's silhouette against the sun for a moment, catching on the golden cuffs he'd put over the twists on either side of his head.
“You could've kissed a fair few yourself if you hadn't been so focused on the melodies, you know.” Lorey felt his face heat and cleared his throat. September gave her full, heartful laugh and patted his broad chest. “Don't look so constipated, Lorey, I'm only joking. Mostly.” They walked together out of the neighborhood, the kicked up dirt of the road clinging to their clothing and September's bare feet.
“Are you going back to your sister’s,” Lorey asked as they reached the large stone arch that led to the bustling city proper.
“Yeah, I've got to sleep off the wine and then I've got another function this evening.” Lorey let out a long breath and shook his head. He enjoyed the parties, but once every now and again was enough. September preferred to dance, sing, fight and-- perform other activities on her flight through the cities taverns and influential homes. Lorey preferred his home and the occasional singing of swords to fill his days.
“Headed to your Mum’s,” September asked, rubbing her bleary eyes. Lorey’s mother had left him her house when she'd gotten sick, and though Lorey had changed a few things to make it seem more like a single man’s home instead of a single human mother's, it remained hers in Lorey and September's minds. Likely would until neither of them drew breath anymore.
“Yes. There's a contract holder I need to see this evening, but apart from them, I don't intend to speak to another soul until my head stops aching.” A friendly pat, and they parted ways, September toward her sister’s apartment in the inner city and Lorey towards his mother’s house two blocks away.

It was shaping up to be a wonderful summer, Lorey thought. He'd taken up a contract to track down a rogue vampire spawn who'd taken it upon himself to drain a very influential family’s first son, but it would be his last of the season. Then, it would be nothing but planting and harvesting with the men who'd helped raise him and the occasional bonfire with September. Lorey was thinking about what meal would be easiest to make and keep down when a resounding BOOM shook the street. Lorey swiveled, heart racing to see a giant, hideous sky vessel blocking out the sun, it's tentacles waving a mocking hello to the panicked citizens below. Lorey stood frozen as people began running around him in no particular direction, watched as one fleshy tentacle wrapped around the frantically ringing bell tower and crushed it as though it were made of nothing but paper and driftwood. Others reached down into the panicked city below, doing only gods knew what-

The cacophony of screams and falling rubble were then pierced with dragon’s roars as three fucking firedrakes appeared out of nowhere and began attacking the ships, blasts of fire and smoke a gruesome stain on the sky that was serene just moments ago. This set Lorey's feet running, running, running he knew not where, knowing only that the sounds of destruction were growing ever closer. He threw himself down a side street with a group of four others, one a young mother with her crying babe plastered to her chest. He'd had barely enough time to panic for her before he felt the sharp smack against his back, and he was no more.