During the years you served in the Waterdeep guard, you were devoted to many things–to the worship of Helm, to the glory of Waterdeep, to the protection of its people, and to the care of the orphans at Helm’s Hall. But there was one thing you were devoted to most of all …
Her name was Allura Fairweather.
Like you, the half-elf was raised as an orphan in Helm’s Hall, and in your youth the two of you often played together. Like you, Allura became a lamplighter, and you spent many evenings together exploring the city’s winding streets, pretending to be wealthy nobles, dastardly pirates, or brave adventurers. As you both grew, your friendship deepened into something more, and your nights were spent in quiet inns and secluded streets, the world falling away as you retreated into each other’s company. Though you loved the work of your twilight hours, you lived for the night, and welcomed its dark embrace.
But Allura was never entirely yours. Ever since you’d known her, Allura had been consumed by a deep grief over the loss of her younger sister, whom she had tried, and failed, to defend from the same brigands who killed their parents. The brigands had kept Allura alive for “sport,” but ran into a Waterdeep patrol before they got her back to their camp. The rescue was small comfort to Allura, who for years afterwards would sometimes cry for hours at the memory of her sister’s body lying lifeless on the side of the road.
Then, one night, Allura failed to show up at your usual trysting spot. You waited for hours, but eventually went home to bed, alternately worried and vexed. She didn’t show up the next night, either. Finally, on the third night, Allura was back, but there was something different about her. She was cool, reserved. She seemed less sad, but also somehow less happy. She apologized for her absence, and reassured you she was well. Better than that, actually–she said she had finally found something to take her pain away. Was it a spell, you asked? A drug? She wouldn’t say. Your temper flared. Had she found a new lover? She bristled at your accusation. “You wouldn’t understand,” she spat, and left. For the first time in a long time, the night felt cold.
After that, you threw yourself into your work, trying to push the argument, push Allura, from your mind. Then, one evening while on patrol, you heard shouts and the sounds of fighting. Rushing down an alleyway, you saw a flash of light, and in the afterglow the fleeing silhouettes of several robed figures. Before you stood the sisters of Selune, and High Priestess Naneatha stood with them, the moon’s radiance fading from her outstretched hand.
“Guard!” she cried. “We require your assistance. We have discovered a cult of Shar operating illegally within the city. Help us bring them to justice!”
With no time to call for your squad, you charged ahead into the alleyway with the sisters of Selune at your back. Ahead you could hear the cultists scattering. Catching a glimpse of two of them, you pursued them around a corner into a dead-end. The robed figures, trapped, turned to face you. From behind you, High Priestess Naneatha stepped out around the corner, her hand a cold blaze of radiance. The light fell upon the hooded figures’ faces, and there …. was Allura.
In your shock, you didn’t even feel the sword slip from your grasp–the sound of it striking the cobblestones seemed to come from a distant dream. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was once again just the two of you, alone in the night. Once more, Allura’s face was full of sadness, but this time, you knew, she was grieving a different loss. Suddenly, her companion lashed out, and your face stung with the bite of his blade. The spell was broken, there was a rush of smoke, and when it cleared, Allura was gone.
For months afterwards you scoured the city for any sign of the cult of Shar. Many times you found pockets of cultists, but Allura was never amongst them. Your zeal attracted the notice of your superiors–you were lauded for your determination, for your unwavering conviction, for your service to the city. You were even promoted. It meant nothing to you. The only thing you had ever loved in this life had been taken by the night.
Eventually you found solace in the teachings of a priest of twilight who came to Helm’s service. You even hung up your cloak and took orders as a faithful of the church. But you never stopped searching for Allura. From time to time, some rumor or piece of information would find its way to you. There are four things you now know for certain:
- You know she is no longer in Waterdeep.
- You know she has grown more active, and more radical, in her support for the dispossessed.
- You know she has changed her name to Allura Nighthawk.
- You know you still love her.
What you don’t know is what you’ll do if you ever find her again …