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

An elf clad in animal skins has been reported by Dharasha scouts. He has been seen sitting, smoking a pipe of some sort and leaning on the flank of a boar. When challenged, the elf said nothing, but regarded the scouts with a serene and somewhat ironic half-smile.

*Mendel, Nai and Celduil......what a tangled web we weave.*

A procession of elves could be seen making their way under the cover of night through the Sharpteeth Woods. Several priestess walk ahead, warriors carrying a body shrouded in white silk and many more elves carrying candles follow quietly with their faces turned toward the earth. Councilor Sywyn's body is being returned to Doron for it's last rights and many have come to pay their respects to this valiant man.



((Tomorrow Sunday at 6pm EST))

Luthien stood still in front of the elves gathered at Gullykin. Leaning heavily on her walking cane, she could not help but feel a deep sense of sorrow as her emerald eyes gazed upon Sywyn's body, untouched by decay, laid upon a stretcher. She knew him as a great archer, worthy of Solonor's worship, and a loyal elf. A friend, even.

And she also knew that there was no one else to perform Sywyn's last rites but herself, for Amarven was too tired and fatigued, after she spent the last few days guiding the spirits of the fallen ones to Arvandor. As the priestess of Sehanine Amarven approached her, Luthien could not help but let out a sob.

"I am not sure if I can make it"

Luthien's voice was so faint, even Amarven had problems at hearing the phrase. The priestess of Sehanine simply placed her right hand upon Luthien's shoulder, feebly smiling at her.

"I can take your place if you want me to, Sister."

Luthien slowly shook her head, returning a smile, albeit forced, to Amarven.

"It's alright Amarven. I'll do my best."

As she took a few limping steps towards the gathering, Luthien drew in a deep breath and addressed everyone gathered there with a strangely commanding and authoritarian voice.

"Alright everyone, take place! Captain of the Mathora, at my right side - she said, glancing at Mealir Amarven and Dralzar, at my left. Members of the mathora that served under him, in formation! Teuvaelivae, start singing! And sing as if you were performing for the whole Seldarine!"

Luthien drew a finely decorated baton from her backpack, casting a magical light on it, afterwards she started the funeral procession, from Gullykin to Doron Amar. Finally, in Doron's plaza, the procession stopped, in front of a wooden altar. Luthien sprinkled it with holy water and blessed it, after which Sywyn's body was laid upon the altar.

"I first met Sywyn while in Beregost. Back then I was new to the Sword Coast and its workings, as well as I was new to the elves inhabiting it. Sywyn left me favorably impressed with his skill, speed, grace, courage and loyalty. His skill with the bow was so great, he could bullseye a flea yards and yards away. I discovered soon after that his skill was equal to his moral values and demeanor. Sywyn was indeed a great man. He will be missed, aye, but be not sad, you that are gathered here, for he died in service of his people, and as the Coronal sayeth, "No one that has died in my service has died in vain." Today, we guide his spirit towards his eternal reward in the realm of Arvandor."

Lifting her palms to the skies, the priestess of Corellon murmured a prayer to the King of Arvandor. A beam of light emerged from the night sky, enveloping Sywyn's feature, while the gold elf leading the ceremony entered into contact with her new liege and the realm of Arborea. Her eyes becoming vacant and blank, her voice flat, she gazed upon the crowd.

"Those of you....that have any last words for him....speak them...one at a time. Sywyn, as well as He, are listening."

Everyone awaited for his or her turn, tears were barely held in place and everyone could not help but think about Sywyn, the new hero of Doron, and the way he sacrificed himself to protect his people. After everyone finished paying his last tributes, gifts were left on Sywyn's body, so that he may have used them in his afterlife. Luthien turned her blank gaze to the skies, to give one final speech.

"Why the death? Why the carnage? Survival, this is the answer. We have been fighting for our own survival since Myth Drannor's fall. Sywyn fought for our survival. And his sacrifice gave no small contribution to the victory of his people. Of our people. Of Corellon's children. We hereby consign his body and soul to his and our forefathers with a serene heart, for in the end of life there is triumph over death, and the death of a flower bears the solemn promise of a fruit. A new beginning."

As she finished her speech, the light enveloping Sywyn's body became stronger and stronger, to the point that Sywyn's features, as well as Luthien's features, were impossible to discern. And then....the light faded, alongside Sywyn's body, now brought to Arvandor. Slowly snapping out of her trance like state, Luthien addressed the crowd.

"And so, Sywyn's body and soul have been laid to rest. I shall not ask you to hold your tears, because not all tears are bad. I thank all of those gathered here for having attended this ceremony, and I hope its significance is not lost. Go in peace now, children of the Seldarine. Go and live in peace, now that the war is over."

After these last words, the funeral ended. Sywyn was resting at the Seldarine's right side now.

Bonds have again been strengthened between the dwarven clan of Kraak Helzak and the elven tribe of En Dharasha Everae. It came to the attention of Durin Ironfaar that two guards, Guruk and Torrrdak, failed to report for their guard positions. Knowing them to be reliable and capable warriors, he inquired into the matter and soon learned that the pair was last seen heading north to the Boarskyr Bridge several days before.

Durin set out immediately. On the way, he enlisted the help of a young elven tracker and a priestess of the tribe, Amarven. They soon followed the trail to a forbidding cave near the high moors. The scout was forced to return to the En Dharasha camp as he had pressing matters, leaving only Durin and Amarven. The elven priestess called upon the powers of the Seldaring which warded and empowered the pair. Blazing with divine power, they disappeared into the inky darkness of the fell corridors.

Beasts of darkness and magic assaulted them at every turn. Durin and Amarven wrought destruction among them, protected by Amarven's powerful wards and bolstered by her spells. They drove deep within the hills to a great cavern and were surrounded by a horde of trolls and whirling creatrues of wind and energy. They struck blow after blow until the cave was filled with syrupy green ichor. As their last foe fell to the ground, Durin's keen dwarven eyes penetrated the darkness and saw, propped in a corner, two lifeless bodies. He rushed to them and confirmed their identity - Grukar and Torrrdak. He wondered at their ability to explore so deeply, but did not voice his surprise. Instead he yelled back to Amarven.

"OI! This be them lass. Let's be gittin' th' lads t' safety!"

They pressed onward with weapons at the ready, but they were unopposed and soon they saw the late afternoon light filtering in an abandoned mineshaft. They managed to haul the intert dwarves and themselves through the narrow passage and out into the light. Wasting no time, Amarven again called upon her gods and a light encased the fallen. Tense minutes passed, but when the light abated, the two Dwarves gasped for breath and opened their eyes. They looked about unseeing and soon fell into a deep sleep, snoring loudly.

Durin chuckled with relief and quickly crafted a crude travois from nearby deadfall. With the help of Amarven, the bizarre procession began its long treck back to the fortress of the dwarves.

The elves gathered and exchanged somber greetings, their spirits turned inward toward the remembrance of the man whom brought them all together. His body lay upon the stretcher, covered in a white silk that shown within the full moon's pale light.......



They made their way through the war torn forest, slowly, delibrately and with purpose to see this man carried above all else felled in this war. He was greater than any such oak, than any overturned stone, for his spirit united this people to overcome the impossible and finally he was coming home.......



The elves of Doron and their Northern visitors of Dharasha offered their last words. Eyes wore tears and faces sadness while the Priestess Luthien Aelorothi presided over the last of the rites to see him from his earthly home unto his next. They turned all elves, Doron and Dharasha as brothers and sisters and offered salute to him, Sywyn Maf'er, the savior of elfkind..........

Ebreth Sy'Vannor sat leaning against Ura's back. The boar lay contentedly listening to the soft melody of Ebreth's reed flute. The other elves of En Dharasha sat around the fire discussing the matters of the day, eating, laughing, and meditating as their desires led them. Mendel, the tribe's Villi, sat close to Nai and they discussed something in hushed tones. Mendel said something and Nai smiled as she laughed. Laisren and Selene the husband and wife pair who acted as proconsul for the band sat opposite Ebreth and Ura discussing something quietly, but frequently looking to Ebreth as they spoke. Ebreth made no motion to signal his notice of the attention. Ebreth's attention was directed toward another elf, Dralazar. Ebreth knew he was a follower of nature, could tell by his manner and his bearing. Ebreth had been without a teacher or mentor since his exile and found learning the ways of natrue more challenging without guidance.

The exile.

It had been months since he was driven from his tribe and left for dead. He would have been dead had it not been for Ura. He scratched the boar's leathery hide at the thought and she stirred, snuffling happily.

The exile. His village. His home.

"And what was it that brought you to us, Ebreth?"

Saline's melodic voice cut through the spectres of the past. Ebreth looked upon Laisren's wife for a long moment with unseeing eyes. Laisren cleared his throat.

"Yes. Please tell us again what it is you seek and why you left your tribe in the North. It is rare that we see our cousins from the North so far from their forest homes."

Saline's voice was open and beckoning. Laisren's while not unkind had an edge to it. The edge of suspicion. Ebreth knew it well for his voice had the same ring to it since treading the unfamiliar woods and paths of the Sword Coast. He shifted his gaze to the fire, its embers burning trails into his vision. Had he not come for this very reason? Had he not come to seek out those who could help? He knew the answers, but his suspicion, his distrust held his tongue.

"Ohooohoohooo! Whadder ye be doin lad? Cannae ye be hearin Lais? He be speakin t'ye lad! He be speakin!"

A rough hand clapped Ebreth on the back, nearly catapulting the slight elf into the flames. Ura roused and leapt to her feet, regarding the stocky figure that now stood before her.

"Aye! Now ye got yerself a fane piggy there lad! A fane piggy!"

The dwarf held out something that might have been a foot of some sort, but Ebreth could not be sure. Before he could look closely, Ura had sniffed it and happily taken it in her mouth. She lay down and began gnawing on the dwarf's gift.

"Aye. Good pig. Ah'm tellin ye, she be a good pig!"

Ebreth looked toward the dwarf, puzzled. "And how do you know Ura is a she?"

"Bah! She got th' look in her eye lad! Ah kin be tellin' when ah meet a lass!" The dwarf turned toward Saline and winked. Both she and Laisren shook their heads laughing.

The dwarf turned back to Ebreth.

"Now lad. Ye got sommat t' be sayin or ye gon' be starin' at th' fire all night?"

Ebreth hesitated then found Ura's snout prodding him in the back. He looked into her eyes and she snuffled several times. Ebreth sighed deeply then began to speak.

"I am of the Matai'aeoril. We serve the gods of the wood and the woods itsself. Ebreth turned his gaze into the fire again.

"Or, I should say, we did. They... my people are dying. They have been blighted and have become hollow shells of their former strength and vitality."

As he spoke, his words came faster and he soon found he could no longer hold them back.

"They have turned from the wood and left their gods and have given themselves to savagery. They have warred upon their kin and torn down their groves to... to build walls. They have traded for weapons of iron and steel. They have taken coin and jewels and treasured them above the wood and its inhabitants. The creatures suffer, but they do not see nor care to see their suffering. I fear they soon shall themselves fall to their twisted savagery if they have not already."

The young elf stopped suddenly, the torrent of words and emotions having run its course and left him. For many minutes no one spoke.

"So I ask myself, 'what can be done? Can anything be done? I do not know. I do not know.'"

Ebreth then returned to his reed pipe and played a mournful dirge that rose solemly above the gathering and up into the night sky.

Laisren stared at the wild elf for a long moment, taking in his features and assessing his words. He then looked to his companion. Saline was returning his gaze and offered Laisren a subtle nod.

"There is something that can be done Ebreth", Laisren stated while standing to gaze up at the moon.

He then slowly turned to look back at Ebreth to assert, "We can help".

with the war finally over, Priestess Luthien composes a poem about the deeds of the men that turned the tide of the Black Orc War, celebrating the bravery and skill of the elven rangers that stood against the Black Orc's onslaught. Rumors spread that the priestess is seeking a skilled elven bard to compose an accompanying music to this poem, turning it into a song.

Laisren & Saline Ua Tiernan, Pro-consuls of En Dharasha Everae, have gathered all those of their clan to the northern path of Baldur's Gate's farmlands. There the elves gather supplies and prepare arms. Several stalls are set for trade, one such bard calls all travelers over to gather before the goods offered. The dwarves of Helzak offer their services to sell before those coming to see the comotion.

The elves do not offer much but to those of their kin. They have set their course and it will be north to find a rumored village within the Misty Forest. The rumors speak of an evil having taken root within their kin's hearts there and a call for a crusade by many Druids of the forest has been taken up by Dharasha. They have waited for this chance and despite their need for healing their wounds from the Black Orc War, they have decided to move while their is still hope.

They do not know what evil it is that awaits them but they accept all other kin willing to take up this call, to make their home in this forest of the north. They do so out of a sense of loyalty to their kin, to be free from the scrutinies of the southern lands and to offer love to one another in the place of gold and power........

((This Thursday 8pm EST, EDE meeting. The end of our long journey begins, if your an elf of any level and are so inclined, come and join us and become a part of our family ))

--- The Pilgrimage


The cold evening carried a hint of the north's bite. Faint sounds from her kins' preparations jingled nearby. Leaving the camp Elethineth walked through the meadow’s high grasses to a small knoll. There she waited for moonrise and considered the journey of En Dharasha Everae to the Misty Forest.

She looked up seeing the stars brighten and emerging brighter and brighter as the sky’s blue darkened into dusk’s dark purple. She gazed to the north where Ieryn blazed it’s nightly beacon. For some Ieryn is called instead the North Star or the Sailor’s Star. On cloudless nights sailors and others would use it to navigate and find their destinations safely. She turned her gaze from one landmark in the night sky to another.

“Y’tellarin, the Far Star.” Tonight it was again the center of her thoughts and prayers. Y’tellarin was there among the other stars yet somehow it seemed more distant. It’s sparkle hinted of majestic beauty and transformation. A journey is like that, she thought. Destinations always seem distant at first, but then come more fully into one’s vision as it is realized. En Dharasha Everae was like that, a vision soon to be realized.

The Journey to the Misty Forest would be a long journey. Scouts would be pathfinding. Defenders would be patroling their for perimeter. The leaders would be calling back and forth across the group organizing them. Priests would be visiting all and praising them with with the Seldarine’s blessings. Musicians would be singing songs to lighten their steps. Druids and naturalists would be shepherding them in the wilds. Diplomats would be engage in liason those they might meet.

The Journey would require every skill in the community and then some.

Indeed, it would be a pilgrimage. The community would demonstrate its’ strengths and weaknesses. And individually the people of En Dharasha Everae would be transformed as each fulfilled their own personal pilgrimage.

Bathed in the light of the risen moon Elethineth lifts her eyes to "Y’tellarin, the Far Star”. After a lengthy vigil, as dawn lightened the eastern sky she turned to watch her kin greet the morning. She began a prayer, “Goddess, illuminate this community with your guidance. Help our spirits be strong in the coming tests. We have a far destination and a long journey to reach the Misty Forest and create a community of majestic beauty. Transform us as we struggle to overcome the many obstacles before us. Bless us with your wisdom and grace us with the protection of the Seldarine.”

The days following the Highharvestide, when the leafs of the forest turned red and golden, Deacon would awaken to the sounds of wood breaking and the ground shaking. Leaving his hollowed out mushroom dwelling; Deacon would dart through the forest’s undergrowth. Over gnarled roots and dodging anthills, passing streams and clearings. Finally, he’d come upon a sight that would trouble him deeply.

The men that had always lived on the forest’s edge, taking only what they needed from nature’s bounty, were now hacking down trees and trampling in their wake anything that would grow. While they cut a path through the woods, trees were felled and saplings were crushed. And the creatures that would normally dwell there fled. It would only be a matter of time before the barbarian’s destructive onslaught would reach Deacon’s little dwelling; which sat not far from where the Misty Forest bordered the High Moor.

Back in his secluded home Deacon would contemplate what to do. Soon though, another terrible sound would shatter his thoughts. Storming out of his tiny doorway, Deacon came face to face with a huge boar, gnawing on the roof of his abode. The boar, however, was not alone. There was someone walking up behind her. Someone with a face that looked as troubled as Deacon's.

(to be continued...)




The face that Deacon caught a glimpse off was that of one of the fair folk. But the Elf walked off, consumed by his own thoughts, never paying any attention to the tiny Deacon. The boar quickly followed in his wake. Deacon followed them for some time, his trusty badger, rabbit and wolf companions in tow. They reached the High Moor. Then they each went their separate ways.

Later they would meet again at the Wyrm’s Crossing over the river Chionthar. The Elf identified himself as Ebreth and his companion boar as Ura. Pleasantly surprised to find that both hailed from the Misty Forest; they each told their tale. Deacon discovered that the Elf had been exiled, driven out by his Wild Elf kinsmen. It seemed that the Elf’s tribe had turned to blood rituals under their shaman. No longer would they tend to the forest. They would not care if it was razed by the barbarians of the High Moor. It would be in others that they had to place their hopes.

Ebreth spoke of a tribe of Elves dwelling on the coastlands near Baldur’s Gate. He mentioned their leader, Laisren, and how he would aid them in reclaiming their home in the Misty Forest. It seemed that these Elves were looking for a new homestead. Deacon mentioned that he too had met with these Elves, and that he would gladly aid them in founding said home. The spriteful Deacon had smiled and presented Ebreth with a map. The map, according to Deacon, would lead them to a pot of gold buried deep beneath the earth. A pot containing a hoard of a million gold pieces.


(to be continued...)

The horses whinnied and shied away from the right side of the road.

"Hya! Get on there Emily! Get on Gertrude!"

After prodding, the driver of the cart was able to return the two elderly horses to their course. He turned his attention to the sparsely wooded glade to the right to see what had spooked his horses. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as a bewildered expression crossed his wrinkled face. There, among the saplings and trees stood two boars, two wolves, a rabbit, and a badger, all clustered around what appeared to be a tiny old man wearing green robes and a green pointed hat. The carraige driver shook his head, looked to the flask in his left hand and made an important life decision. As he crossed the bridge over the Chionthar River he tossed his flask into the water and vowed never to drink again. And he never did.

The sprightly Deacon noted the passage of the horses and the wagon, giving the frightened beasts a friendly and calming smile. His tiny face beamed cheerfully and the gathered creatures snuffles, yipped, chippered, and squeaked happily in return. Except for the smaller of the two boars. It snuffled grimly, a grave expression on its porcine face. Then the face was no longer that of a boar. It shortened and became more elegant. The rough hide smoothed and became hairless and the hind legs shortened and forelegs became arms.

Ebreth Sy'Vannor, druid of Silvanas, then sat on the ground opposite deacon. A troubled, but not unfriendly aspect to his demeanor.

"Deacon is glad to see you, yes he is!"

"How has the evening found you, Old One?"

Deacon beamed. "Good, good! Deacon is happy to see you he is! But you are toubled! What is troubling you my friend?"

"My thoughts linger on those who I have left behind. I have been exiled from my village, but I have not forgotten those whom I love and whom I am bound to protect."

"Ooooh. But deacon wonders why you were exiled? Did you wrong?"

Ebreth sighed heavily. "Only in the eyes of our shaman. He has led us down a dark path, Old One. He has turned my people to savagery. I stood against him, and have now paid the price for my actions. I have been exiled."

Deacons beaming face fell a moment. "Deacon has been exiled as well. He must find help, help to save his home!"

"Have my people sunk so low as to threaten even your grove, Old One?"

"No, no. Humans. Wild men from the high moor! They come and chop and burn the trees and soon will destroy Deacon's home! Perhaps the two are related, yes? The evil in your village and the wild men?"

Ebreth leaned back against his boar, Ura's hide. It was possible. It could explain why his people had not repelled the barbarian humans as they had done so many times in the past. It would explain the barbaric and bloodthirsty ways of the High Seer. Yes. Now that he thought of it, the two must be related.

"Old one, I believe we have recourse. I have met a tribe of elves here. They call themselves En Dharasha Everae, and they have agreed to help save my tribe."

Deacons small face erupted into a smile and he leapt to his feet and skipped about the small bushes of the clearing.

"Yes! Let us meet these elves! Deacon would speak with them!"

With that, the sprightly green figure dashed southward with the elf and his menagerie in tow.

((Tfunke is a scholar and a gentleman of great character and talent, it is that simple. Also, I would like to thank Luna and the DMs who, having seen such a great effort on the part of En Dharasha Everae and their friends, this opportunity to see our dreams fulfilled.

Finally, thank you to all my friends in EDE, Darksider, Beneviolent, Nezzerscape, Mentalist, Manz, Teo and the list goes on.....

We began this thing out of nothing but a hope and a dream. In spite of great adversity and reticence from others you guys not only stuck it out, but have now created such a wonderful environment to RP in

For all that you guys have sacrificed in time and effort, for all your research and organizing, I want to say.....

))