Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The sun was slowly sinking behind the tops of the evergreens, its last rays pouring through the boughs into the forest, creating a mystical ambiance. The air was rich with the fragrance of pine, and near the winding forest path ran a babbling brook, its pure crystal clear water trickling over rocks and flowing underneath mossy logs. The forest carpet and the canopy muffled the clomping of a horse’s hooves that was traveling at a friendly trotting pace. Only a moment later a fully armored horse rider appeared, cantering up a steep hill.

The rider stopped not far from the last remnants of what looked like had been a chapel of some sort. Thick vines were slowly taking away its walls of ancient stone, and the roof timbers had collapsed ages ago on to the floor, rotting under a thick, damp blanket of branches and pine needles. Even with the presumed doorway being doorless it still looked pretty dark within the structure. Not surprising though with the sky almost vanishing completely in these denser parts of the forest, only a very limited number of fragments of blue scattered across its canopy. The woods around had an eerie stillness, but with most of the birds already flown south for the onset of winter, and the other animals curled up in their warm hide-outs for hibernation that wasn’t much of a surprise.

The rider, a red haired woman, dismounted and secured her horse to the nearest tree. As she tugged at the bearskin draped around her shoulders she watched for a moment the surrounding forest before proceeding towards the ruins. It was as if the closer that she walked to the structure’s front wall, the more unnaturally quiet the woods became. She turned her head once more to look over her shoulder, her eyes searching the trees behind her yet finding nothing. She took a few more steps in the direction of the ruins, her fingers twitching towards a short blade at her hip when she overheard a soft thud-like noise at the left side of the ruins. The woman held her breath and froze in her tracks as an elf materialized there from thin air.

He was rather tall and strongly build for an elf, his skin almost as dark brown as his hair. Dressed in a simple clothing of animal skins sewed together with a thread made of sinew, a leggings of soft deerskin and a pair of knee-high boots of a likewise material, the elf had this slightly superior look about him. Long strings of wooden beads hung across his chest and wrapped around his wrists, and he carried a long spear in his left hand, its point made of antler instead of metal or flint. His long, flawless hair was tied up in a half-up high ponytail with a black ribbon, a single long lock hanging down at his pointy right ear.


“You won’t be needing that, lady. I have no intentions of harming you.” he said with a somewhat melodious voice as he placed the spear’s butt down on to the forest soil, the point up.

The woman let go off the hilt of her blade and she inclined her head slightly as she addressed him,” Greetings sir…” her tone even and friendly, her gaze a moment fixed on his features. “I did not expect to be trespassing into anyone’s territory… forgive me if I did so…” she started.

The elf smirked at her and then shook his head some before asking,” Are you here to seek solitude, rest and introspection to balance your purposeful and goal-directed days, stranger?”

The woman blinked but then nodded,” That, besides the fact that I’m mapping forgotten shrines like this, completing my personal archives with locations and history. But forgive me my manners.” She removed her armored gloves and extended her right hand. “My name is Brigitte Liszewski, follower of Helm and academician to the military academy in Luskan.”

“Call me Zenzo,” the elf said not taking her hand but patting his chest once before performing some sort of elaborate salute by touching his forehead and chest briefly, and then slightly bowing to her,” Luskan you say? Most certainly courageous to travel alone and this far from your base town. But then again, I believe that is quite typical for a devotee of Helm, is it not?” His command of the common tongue was flawless.

Brigitte offered the elf the slightest of smiles and nodded,” I see that you know us well, sir Zenzo.”

“Just Zenzo will be fine, Brigitte… if I may call you such.” The elf glanced emotionless at the structure and back at her,” And yes, I do, I even happen to know some of the history of this building, more some sort of a temple if you will.” He motioned her to follow him inside. “Quite typical is it not for the Helmites to have had a place for them in such a remote, dangerous area? And so far up north.”

Brigitte nodded and smiled faintly as she responded,” Not that remote it appears now, but certainly. Many of our temples and shrines are often to be found at the edge of civilization, or on locations where they form a first line of defense against the possible invasion of more powerful and evil populations…”

“... and where you will stand and wait and watch very carefully over those who are weak, poor, injured and young, making sure they are not sacrificed for other people’s goals?” the elf completed her sentence.

The woman reacted a bit taken aback by the knowledge this barbaric looking elf displayed, the way how he acted and talked not matching with his rather savage physical appearance. The elf chuckled softly when Brigitte give him an apologetic smile and said to him,” Forgive me, but it would seem you have the advantage of me...?”

They had passed the massive walls through the doorway and now stopped not far from what had been the central prayer area, the old vine-tangled interior walls looming roofless and high above their heads. Inside it was as dark as a deep cave, except for that one ray of autumn sunlight like a red-golden finger pooring down on the altar overgrown with bright green velvet moss and brimstone coloured lichens.

The elf turned to her,” I don’t know you personally but on the Helmites… that I do.”

Brigitte gasped in surprise as it dawned on her suddenly,” You are Helmite yourself,” she blurted out, and staring incredulously at his appearance.

Zenzo chuckled softly as his hand wiped over torso covered with animal skin, glancing down and up again,” Not exactly the distinctive outfit you would expect from a Helmite, right?”

Brigitte apologised,” I was not judging you, Zenzo… if I did anything to offend you...”

The elf made a dismissive gesture with his hand,” No offense taken, Brigitte… now… did you wish to learn about the history of this place?”

The woman smiled slightly and nodded,” Why yes. Give me a moment, I’ll quickly fetch my workbook outside if I may.”

“Sure, take your time, young one, as there is no rush here… “

He mused on to himself as Brigitte left the ruins.” If something is meant to be, it just happens, on the predetermined time, with predetermined people, and for a reason that is either a blessing… or a lesson…” he whispered while staring pensively at the altar...

“And third! Leadership… now...”


Brigitte, seated between what was left of her fellow students, looked up from her open workbook and rubbed her forehead tiredly. Her green eyes flickered to the window and she gazed outside, the voice of their lecturer fading somewhere in the background of her thoughts. It was a glorious winter day and under a steel blue sky new cadets had started arriving and gathering at the training ground for the first stage of The Training Plan. Soon, flanked by two massive drill sergeants, the drill instructor would emerge from his personal quarters and they would make the newcomers line up properly before starting with their first inspections.

After that, the recruits would be going through a rough first weeks of basic training where communication would be strictly one way. In other words, the drill sergeants did the talking, the recruits the listening. This was also the first opportunity to seperate the weat from the chaff, since those people where put to the test severely. Now they were all still feeling fit as a fiddle but the entire first period seemed to be set up so that so that the drill instructor would be doing nothing except for keeping them from a much needed sleep. Those who displayed a poor translation from instructions into actions faced the consequences immediately, a severe scolding... or... intense physical training… not sure which was worse. Of course they also provided a safe exit from the academy when things became too much for some.

The smart ones on the other hand would be able to pick up hints dropped by the sergeants about information they would need in their upcoming events. Those however who would begin to think they were smarter than their instructors would get proven wrong. It was actually all really basic, you either passed,... or failed, and over a few months they would decide who was in and who was out. Once fully accepted by the academy a cadet was able to select a limited number of courses. Brigitte already had known which she would pick and she had chosen for the tactical training course, a path that eventually could lead to the position of tactical officer/counselor later on in her career. It seemed like yesterday when she heard the drill sergeant shouting his first instructions -and- making fun of her dear butt as she crawled through the mud.


“... and sooooo!” her teacher had raised his voice some, obviously to draw her attention back indoors,” We ask miss Liszewski!”

Brigitte turned to her bearded teacher -who had the victorious smile of a god about him- and the stuffy classroom which just begged for a more proper ventilation rate. That is if they ever wished to maintain the students’ attention and active participation.
She clenched her fist and put it against her mouth as she briefly coughed and got up, shoving the chair behind her. Those who were left of her initial group looked up at her, and she could sense waves of vague anticipation.

Then she turned to the teacher, her mossy-green eyes incisive and clear,“ Leadership is the key element to a successful wartime mission. It will provide your soldiers with purpose, with direction, and with motivation once they end up in combat. The formula of a good leader sounds easy enough, even though it is not. You have to make sure you BE a leader, you have to know exactly what you are doing, know yours and your soldiers’ strengths and weaknesses, employ and develop them accordingly, and you need to act… not hesitate, but seek and take responsibility, showing you are capable of making decisions and keep everyone informed. Being a leader doesn’t mean you have to win a fight on your own, you need to build a team, a strong team with individuals and resources able to cooperate and synchronize with each other. Your ability to empower others is a pretty good indication of your personal leadership. Dare to lead. And in absence of orders take initiative to accomplish the mission, gather essential information, consult others, and consider the consequences of your actions before you get to work.”

Some of her fellow students blinked and her teacher’s mouth hung a bit open as she asked,” Permission to open the window to have some fresh air, sir.”

Then the man coughed and nodded as Brigitte opened the window and took a seat. ” Well, that’s... not what I just explained…” he coughed again,”... but I suppose those are the facts in a nutshell. Thank you… miss Liszewski…”

She inclined her head politely and while the teacher resumed the college lesson, she glanced back at the open window and smiled faintly as she overheard the first orders being shouted across the training ground, watching the recruits lancing in an attempt to form a long straight line.
A few more weeks...

The journey had taken longer than expected because bad weather had set in, a blizzard from the north so great that her horse -if she rode it- would simply sink into the snow up to its belly like as if it were quicksand. The freezing white plain bathed in moonlight, the snow laden trees glimmering all around as she found herself trudging through the snow on self made snowshoes, her horse -steam rising up from its warm flanks- placidly walking along after her with a snort every now and then. The muffled thuds of hooves in the powdery substance and the snow creaking under the woman’s shoes were all that could be heard.

By the time she knocked on the abbey’s door she was half frozen after earlier battling the ice-filled winds and after temperature had dropped tremendously once the sky had began to clear. Only her instincts and her ability to keep going past all endurance had kept her on her feet but she didn’t think she was going to last much longer. A tall armored man swung open the heavy oak door with a loud creaking sound that eerily split the quiet of the night, and with knightly grace he escorted her to a huge fireplace where offered her a mug of hot tea and a warm blanket over her shoulders before he went out to take care of her horse.

The large reception room was lighted by the brightly snapping woodfire and torches that hung on the walls between old and worn banners from a time long past. In the middle of the room were two long wooden tables lined on each side of a dark red carpet covering a part of the rough stone floor. Spread around the room were ancient weapon racks featuring old battle axes, swords of all sorts, hamers, spears and crested shields. In front of the fire was a pair of leather wingback chairs and the young woman took a seat in one of them, sipping from her tea.

Brigitte was studying the irregulary shaped stone wall around the majestic fireplace as a man entered the room from the other side. Close-mouthed he closed the door behind him, crossed the room in silence and stopped before the young woman who looked up. He was dressed in a simple grey habit featuring a black cord that hung from his neck and was tied around his waist, and as he lowered his hood she recognised him as the Head Watcher, his features as humble and as reassuring as the god of the deity she had started reverring.

“Sir… Father…” Brigitte murmured as she dropped on her knee before the one she knew as a retired knight, and more.

It was said he once had been used to court manners and the distinguished elderly man featuring a white beard, long white hair and a sun-kissed leathery skin motioned her to stand.
“Helm’s grace, Brigitte… what on earth are you doing here around this time of the year, and in the middle of the night?” he asked while he assessed her fingers with his rough hands as if to make sure they weren’t frozen.

Brigitte smiled the faintest of smiles and watched how once so powerful hands that had to be three times the size of hers rubbed her fingers warm. In the years she had known Sir Autorius he had become like a grandfather to her. He looked rather stern, but she knew better. The grimness to him came from tensions other and much harder to bear than his personal concern for her.

“I beg thee to forgive me for disturbing thy rest, Father. Yonder is thy bed, and it was inessential for them to wake thee at this evil hour. My reason for appearing canst be brought before thee in all comfort at the very next light, or at whatever moment thou wish to summon me.” She offered his hand a squeeze. “How art thou feeling?”

The elderly man was quick to smile and laugh,” You can leave the formal talk for now, my child. Tell me what news it is you evidently are here to deliver.”

Brigitte inclined her head,“ I graduated…”

Father Autorius leaned his head a little back in understanding,” And now you have come to join us in our pledge, with heart and hand?”

The woman sitting across him nodded,” I have asked now for several years, comitted myself to His teachings and completed the necessary prerequisites and…”

He held up his hand,” Yes… yes girl, of course. What we have discussed. Now, did you also wish to become a member of our chapter here or…?”

Brigitte looked a moment pensively into the flames and then said,” I wish to head for Baldur’s Gate…”

To a few people I was earlier on almost regarded as a walking contradiction. I guess from their point of view their doubt was probably reasonable. A person from such an aggressive nation featuring ‘this type of demeanour’? One even openly remarked that it was virtually impossible that a paladin could come forth from such a place. But they didn’t know there is no aggression, no intended violence or abuse in my blood. I guess I’m unique in that way although I think my education and my awakened interests at the time have more to do with it.

As I regarded the Westhavian named Evander Mordragon standing in front of me I found myself a moment thrown back to my childhood memories where I reached the point in my life that if I looked and worked hard enough, I could actually be part of a much greater cause. And perhaps, I know it’s kind of idealistic, but perhaps one day I could serve my nation in a better way. A different way…

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Colonel Elizabeth Erlania who was holding a thin dark red book under her arm turned over to the young girl sitting at the small wooden desk, her hands clasping behind her back. She had reached her sixtieth spring but was still nevertheless a handsome lady. However, her course of life had left wrinkles as well as scars on her face. She was tall and full of person, with piercing blue eyes and abundant white-blond hair that rolled down her shoulders. Health had by no means faded out of her cheeks yet, nor had the proof of a life in a royal environment expired in her demeanour.

It was rumoured that she had been one of the Purple Dragon Knights, the elite forces of the Cormyrian army, and that she had joined King Azoun on more than one occasion when they set out for battle. There was indeed this aura of confidence about her and she looked like the type of person who’d make a final stand in order to save others. Here however she was dressed as a woman in a long simple dress, black like a widow’s garment but enlightened by a pair of necklaces of the purest silver Brigitte had ever seen. Each featured a bronze token charm and the young girl assumed they were honor tokens of some sort.


“You say that a better strategy could have helped the people in that tale, Brigitte… but, what is strategy according to you?”

The young girl snapped out of the staring at the charms, as if she had been trying to decipher what was on them, and turned her attention to the retired officer. “Uhm, let’s see. I would say… strategy is fighting a battle smart?”

Colonel Elizabeth chuckled softly. “I cannot really disagree with that but it is actually a lot more.” She tilted her head and looked down at the young girl,” Did you know the best strategy is to avoid a battle if you can?”

“Humm...?”

“Yes, you are a Luskanite and have grown up in a rather turbulent environment. I guess for you it is right now almost unimaginable that a world without battle actually could exist. Mind you. This is the age of humans and war seems to be a symptom of how we feel. Either we base ourselves on certain assumptions, or allow certain fears to take hold of our hearts. Sometimes it is greed tending to get stronger than compassion, or hatred seeping into our blood where it spreads like poison, inciting us to violence and infecting our society.”

She pauzed a moment and gazed through library window that gave sight on the bustling metropolis that was Marsember, for once not shrouded in mist.
“Some cultures may deny that sort of reality and even promote a more gentle picture, but we all know very well it is there, in our deepest of scars. Humans and certain other races have aggressive impulses that sometimes just are impossible to ignore or suppress. Some argue that these impulses are good as they claim them to be natural, and that through conflict those problems actually could get solved.”

The girl’s mentor turned back to the young girl who was now leaning on her desk as if to listen better.

“Fact is that getting emotional and lashing out, or becoming underhand and manipulative often makes situations worse, and thus is considered to be counterproductive… often with a lot of bloodshed and desire for vengeance from the opposite side in the end.”
She held up one finger,” That is the first rule of a strategic warrior. The best generals are those who know which fights need to be avoided and which are inevitable. They manage their emotions when things get rough and when they are forced to fight, they do it indirect and subtle, making their manipulations and intentions difficult to trace.”

She took the book from under her arm and offered it to the young Brigitte. The title read ‘The benefits of strategy’ and when the girl scanned the cover for its author she only found ‘Red Knight’.

“I think even Northerners who tend to fight in a brutal manner -that according to them could display their heroism- eventually would see the hidden costs of such and that they may realise that even for a victor exhaustion could lead to self-destruction.”

Colonel Elizabeth smiled faintly as she watched the girl already scrolling through the pages. “Strategy, dear child, simply means you lead your people in the best possible ways. And a well chosen strategy makes you indeed chop wood better than raw muscle power…”

Brigitte didn’t look up. Not even when her mentor left the private library silently...

Brigitte stopped a moment to reflect on her first letter to her parents ever since her departure from Luskan. The letter was to be send to Marsember rather than Luskan as her father had left the North right after she graduated from the small military academy located in the region around Luskan. The reasons to pick that military school over any other had been simple. For the duration of her training, her father had been able to wrap up and hand over his business to High Captain Suljack, while she visited and mapped a few shrines and chapels -of which some were abandoned- in the northwestern parts of the Sword Coast.

About two years ago now, it had been a great work of conviction and persuasion by her father to ensure her mother, who had stayed in Marsember to oversee the family’s new and lucrative business along with a growing flock of other ventures, that their daughter would be just fine. Meanwhile during those two years and all the way up in Luskan, one day a tenday she and her father had spent some time together, usually on his ship talking about politics and the future of Luskan.

During that period Brigitte had grown convinced that there were things she could do that may benefit her nation of birth and the people of Luskan, and not even her father had been able to talk that out of her head. Eventually he had grumbled that she inherited her mother’s stubborn streak, but at the same time it showed how proud he was on her to be so early independent. Only to add slyly in the end that he hoped his craftiness was innate in their entire bloodline
And tricky she could be…

Brigitte leaned over and finished her letter telling her mother she loved her and missed her but that she would have to await her return a little longer. She sealed the envelop, got up from her chair and walked over to the window that looked out on to a view of the warehouses of Baldur’s dock district, absently running her fingers through her smooth hair.



I am a “paladina” now. And although people probably have opinions on how a paladin should be and act, ‘to never succumb to worldly temptations’ one among those things, I just try to be me. For instance, amidst other people I’m not the person who would disrupt any ‘lesser sinful fun’ of the rest of a group I am travelling with. I am not really judge on such and just have other things, better things to do. Justice however can be one. Up in Luskan justice was often swift and brutal and there isn’t much I can do about that, not yet. But one day as an more experienced paladin in a military context I actually could be expected to conduct such ‘hasty trails’, and I myself would bring forward the fact there is a spectrum of options in order to punish someone, that rather than a quick rope around the neck.

My father was right. I inherited his natural ability to use tricks and they will come in handy. Winning a battle without bloodshed is what I call a true art, and it can be obtained by either diplomacy or… by playing on the psychological weaknesses of the adversary. When maneuvering them into precarious positions that trigger feelings of frustration and confusion, one can actually break them down mentally before they surrender physically and a battle is won at a much lower cost.

If I one day learn how to put such theory into practice, and get it into the heads of those Captains ruling my nation that a group who wins fights with only few lives lost and resources carefully used is the group that can thrive over greater periods of time… well, that is the day I return to Luskan. And although there seems at least one Captain attentive to this mindset, I’m not willing to take any risks. Not yet. Their are just too many people with too many agenda’s involved and right now it would take too much to create a mutual sense of participation. And honestly, I still didn’t even figure out how to set up the latter.



The ‘paladina’ closed her eyes a moment and tilted her head back as a cool evening breeze tickled her face. Some of the people at this part of the Coast were very similar to the ones in the north though and perhaps there was actually a lot to learn here on a smaller scale, in smaller steps. People who achieved absolutely nothing with arrogance and hotheadedness, and if involved herself that was the bottom line as far as she was concerned. Such behaviour could not be allowed to turn into terror though.

Strange to see how this hotheadedness seemed as if contagious. First there had been the dwarf Mac Blackbrew, and now there was Itoru -a man who had tried to help with Mac Blackbrew- but who now also seemed to fall into the trap of letting emotions getting the upperhand by assaulting a female elf and attacking a man right in front of the guards. Brigitte opened her eyes and shook her head lightly to herself. Why don't people realise they smash their own windows by displaying such aggressive, antisocial behaviour? For instance, the man who Itoru had attacked appeared to be an excellent tracker and could have been useful for Itoru in helping to find his halfling friend Azune. Because of his emotions Itoru didn’t seemed to care or even think about this Azune’s condition and well being.

She clasped her hands behind her back. Well, after Itoru got dragged away by the guards, there wasn’t much she or any other could do for Azune or Itoru. But the matter about elves being on a killing spree and vice versa did concern her even more. For now nothing more but rumours though. She hadn’t actually witnessed it herself yet.

As Brigitte considered her letter to Eldarian Al'maire and their first meeting weeks ago, the Helmite's mind travelled back to the period in her youth where the topic strategy and tactics slowly became more and more an essential part of her life. And she was convinced that by offering her services to the Lathandrites she had taken a good next step.

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Brigitte sat slightly leaning forward over her book and looked up as her mentor ex-colonel Elizabeth Erlania entered the study room.
“Good morning, young miss Brigitte. How dost thou fare? I perceive an unobstructed interest for Red Knight’s lecture?”

“Yes, ma’am… Her teachings are amazing. Thank you… thee for the help acquiring them.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head lightly. “Her teachings are not the middle point of this world, but the matters she is covering appear to be a fundament in the everyday life as well.”

Brigitte closed her book and sat up straight as her daily lessons began.

“Since it is strategy you wish to learn more on, strategy it will be what I teach you. Now, strategy is something that derives from life, not just war, but our very everyday lives. We’re often just not aware.” Her mentor started pacing the room calmly.

“People are looking for personal luck and success… during their life they’re busy accumulating wealth, acquiring knowledge and power. For that they need resources and allies on the materialistic side, but also a certain level of intelligence in order to maintain and keep what they gained and to turn things more productive in the long run. We could be talking here about a field general as well as the average farmer or merchant.” She stopped and turned her gaze to her attentive pupil.

“It really affects us all, Brigitte. Having a certain level of understanding on how strategy works is beneficial to us all. In the older days kings and generals didn’t like soldiers who were thinking for themselves, and even in the present day that still exists. Under certain circumstances I would agree upon this, but over the years I myself have experienced that soldiers who received at least a small glimpse on the larger context of things, often display an increased performance. If such soldiers were also allowed to share their ideas… well…”

“Life is like war, Brigitte, and we have rivals everywhere, whether you’re in politics, business, art...” she grimaced,” and even love.” Elizabeth paused for a moment’s thought, gazing through the window.

“The best way to start however is to look in the mirror and find another important rival. Before you direct any arrows upon your rivals and enemies, you must fire them at yourself. You must become aware of the weaknesses that can take hold of your senses, find out what it is that can color your level of judgement. Declare war on yourself if you are looking to move forwards and combat the enemy within you. Your experiences will help you later on to correct your outward actions and only then the strategist will be able to rise from within you.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly to herself as she turned over to her pupil. “Right… lesson one, and probably the lesson you would expect the least from me. Declare war against your enemies…”

Elizabeth chuckled lightly as Brigitte’s eyes went wide open. “Yes yes… I know we’d rather try and avoid war but right now I’m merely talking metaphorically, especially on the combat thing.” She winked.

“One cannot operate without having identified his or her enemies. People tend to be subtle, evasive, or not showing the back of their tongue. It will be your job in the future to subtly smoke them out of their holes, learn people’s intentions, learn about their hidden agendas, and find out how good your enemy as well as your own team is. Learning all that is what should be any strategist’s purpose and it gives them direction as well as a source of energy. It gives a strategist’s life meaning…”