Escape from Whitestone Hold

Meeting Mr. Wrong- Chapter 1

It had just turned twilight. The sun was slipping down the colorful horizon and casting long shadows across the white walls of the city. A blue dragonborn darted through the streets, panting heavily as she kept her head on a swivel. She was vigilant for patrols, of course, but even more so, she was seeking out the sounds of fighting. For where there was violence, there was still hope for her home.

Sapphira's stomach groaned, every footfall a stabbing reminder of her desperation. But she was used to the hunger by now, and could only try to ignore her body's complaints. For the past few days, Sapphira had been sneaking through the burning fortifications, stealing Magistrate supplies and weaponry and distributing them to the dwindling revolutionaries that still drew breath. But there were few supplies left to easily steal, especially since the Magistrate tightened their security. Both she and the fighters were running out of steam.

Sapphira suddenly rounded a corner to find a squadron of Magistrate reinforcements with heavy artillery marching away from her. With a small gasp, she desperately scrambled into an alley to avoid their detection, leaning against the wall for a moment to catch her breath.

How did things get this bad!? Sapphira grumbled to herself, cursing the last few days of torment. Tension and grumblings of dissent had been growing for months, but no one ever thought that the great war would come to Whitestone Hold. The Resistance usually fought in far off ruins or fortresses, away from innocents to harm. But this rebellion of disgruntled citizens had been home-grown by harsher regulations, increased Magistrate presence, many suspect disappearances, and finally, a citywide curfew.

Sapphira had only heard the story thirdhand, but from what she had gathered, a scuffle had broken out in the market between an upset citizen and a Magistrate guard, which quickly escalated. The citizen was shot dead at the hand of the Magistrate, which was all it took to devolve the watchful crowd into an uncontrollable riot. Years of Magistrate resentment violently burst forth, and the fighting had only grown worse and spread throughout the city.

Days later, no street was left untouched by the chaos, and flames burned rampant throughout the streets. The main mob had been scattered, but disjointed groups of citizens still fought in isolated groups all across the city, trying to hide from the Magistrate reinforcements. The Magistrate showed no mercy to fighter or fleeing victim alike. Both faced the sword, or the woefully-inadequate Magistrate-run refugee camp. Every citizen forced from their home by fire or war was given a terrible choice... Lay down and accept the utter destruction of their home city, leaving nothing but ash to be used as an example against future rebellions... Or fight for revenge. One thing was sure. This was no longer the safe seaside city Sapphira had grown up in. It was now a battlefield.

Sapphira drew closer to the sounds of war cautiously entering an alley in pursuit of the noise. Her attention was immediately caught by a bright plume of fire that blasted a hole in a narrow staircase. She saw a group of citizens ahead of her, fighting a group of Magistrate soldiers. But in between these opposing fighters, blocking both sides from proceeding, was a brass dragonborn in a thick leather apron, who seemed to be pushing back the citizens with his shield, and parrying their attacks with his shortsword.

A citizen that turned against his own instead of fighting the magistrate? Disgusting!... Sapphira thought, watching him try to fend off the swords of three citizens that were able to reach him. He was on a small landing that connected two narrow staircases, one going up, and one going down. The citizens were attempting to fight their way up one staircase to reach the Magistrate, who were attempting to descend the opposite flight of stairs to reach the same landing. However, it seemed as though the fire blast from a moment ago had removed a section of the downward stairs, and the Magistrate's heavy armor made it too tactically unsound for them to jump across. The dragonborn's nose and mouth were smoking slightly, as though he had used his fire breath to break the stairs and cut off both groups from being able to stab at each other. The dragonborn was completely ignoring the Magistrate soldiers as he attempted to defend himself from the citizens, and the soldiers seemed baffled, unable to reach far enough with their swords.