The World of Amaura

Weightless, the Eladrin girl felt none of the bumps on the hazardous road up to the bleak hotel on the edge of the cliffs. Upon birth, she was quickly spirited away to the Fey Wilds where she grew in grace, beauty, and naïve curiosity for the other worlds beyond the rainbow veil. So when her patron goddess charged her to venture into new realms to find new disciples, Ta’lae dove head-first - quite literally - through the shimmering gateway into the awaiting world.

On the other side, Ta’lae erupted into the muted world of Amaura like a bright pink comet blazing through a twilight sky. And just as she had dreamed, this new world was a cavalcade of new delights. The changing of the trees, the crackle of cannon shot, the pitch and plunge of the sea, and the sudden constellations born out of sword strikes - all these wonders rolled out before her day after day. Soon her tongue tickled with all kinds of new flavors of food; her gentle skin prickled and sweated under snow and sun; and her bright, pink eyes drank the sea, the impossibly white moon, and - best of all - the great velvet darkness of the star-studded night: so much deeper and darker than anything in the aurora-bathed Fey Wilds. The curious transience of creatures in this mortal plane, earnest and bedraggled under the march of Time, fascinated her. And the thick darkness of Amaura fascinated her most of all.

Of course, the new world was not without its dangers as she conscripted new converts to the Fey Wilds, but Ta’lae - a creature of mischief and magic - always evaded danger with a giggle and puff of rainbow glitter. And if ever that failed, there was Mi’eg - a giant Leonin warrior whose fatherly devotion to the ethereal fey girl inspired him to lance countless men upon his bloodthirsty trident. Between Ta’lae’s tricks and Mi’eg’s might, even the greatest perils were merely a game. All things uncomfortable and strange - like death, illness, and heartache - were easily avoided or buried under new wonders. Happiness - in this realm - could be drunk again and again, and it was always within reach, like apples hanging from a tree, to be plucked at leisure.

Indeed, everything in Amaura seemed - for a season - to be a game: one brilliant, magical dance cascading into the next. But then Ta’lae boarded a carriage to Yuden and as she fell asleep in her favorite place - nestled up against the warm, muscled fur of her companion - she may have heard the music of Amaura dim and die under the snow as the wheels of the carriage crushed the harsh gravel into the black dirt, dragging the weightless girl toward the Last Hearth Inn where all her fascination with the darkness of Amaura would be finally and horrifically realized.