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

The darkness fell upon Nashkel, and the Golden Wheel were gathering.

Close to the Northern Light Inn, the lanterns lights were dim and from the mountains a cold wind blew through the hair of a single horned figure, whose only companion was a packhorse. A couple of dark and shady figures were there, close to the inn, waiting for the horned figure and the pack horse.

«You have it?»
«Yes, I do.»

[...]

«Lovely, ain't a big one luckily. Though we did have some trouble last time we took it near Baldur's Gate.»

[...]

«Let's go.»

And so the three figures started to move, followed by the faithful packhorse. The horned figure seemed to have yellow eyes, to the few who noticed that one; the other wore a bow, while the third seemed to be a shapeshifter: sometimes dwarf, sometimes horse, sometimes human. Rumors started to spread that the one wasn't actually human, but a doppleganger arrived directly from Athkatla... maybe a partner of the Mind Flayers living there.




After twenty miles of walking, the three seemed to have met another partner. Wearing golden robes, but some folks in Beregost started to spread rumors very similar to how that man had the same attitude of a dragon: stingy and disrespectful.







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...and then, there were only four.


The following night, the same horned figure were surrounded by the same and yet different figures. Always in front of the Northern Lights Inn, always in the dark, always with the usual poor lighting. Only one thing was actually to be set in common with the first one: the horned figure, followed by the faithful packhorse. Once again, that night they gathered and then they spoke at the Nashkel bridge once again.

«Is he joining us?»
«Indeed, he is.»

[...]

«Should we look for other witnesses?»
«I'm sure we can find one somewhere.»

[...]

«So, there will be plenty of work to do.»
«Let's go, then.»

So, once more, the four figures ventured into the unknown, taking a detour in the Xvart territory with the packhorse at their side. They were never seen again, that night.





A friendly reminder to all the readers. Whoever you are, whoever you were, it matters not: the Golden Wheel will put their eyes on you and you will be evaluated. If you're reading this...

Three couriers leave the Adventure guild hall in Nashkel, all going in a different direction, all of them have a scroll attached to their saddlebags as they make way towards their unknown destinations, a man with a glorious mustache would be seen watching them for a few moment as the riders disappear into the night.

Rumours circulated the city of Baldurs Gate that a theatrics competition was occurring in the white mask theatre, sponsored by an Amnian trade company known as the Golden Wheel and hosted by the lady Endyleon.

The night lasted for many Candlekemarks with many different performances from poems to songs and even advanced acrobatics and at some stage a gnome doing gnome things.

There was quite a crowd watching the ongoing festivities, some were perhaps a bit oddly dressed, but supposedly such was the attire one wore when going to the theatre, at least if you asked one of the Directors from the Golden wheel who had some of his own people change outfits after arriving.. the bastard.

The night ended with the three winners winning extraordinary gifts, the winner herself, a woman called Kip, winning a Golden instrument that could even weave magic throughout it when used.

A pleasant night, some might say.

Rumour had it a group of Golden Wheelers would teleport to Nashkel where they were seen by locals. The group looked as if they were everything from scared for their life to honest furious rage on their visage, some were silent while others shouted. None the less they hastily made their way to their room in the Nashkel inn where some of the local drunks may have overheard many harsh words shared in the private room, many of the Golden Wheels members, directors alike, sat with stone-like faces as a long discussion took place.

A sudden flash in Soubar, then out stepped a few hooded individuals and some known figures from the Golden Wheel. They had all appeared next to the healers tent in Soubar, which was run by one of their own, Kazimir Resnik

The five people were spotted by a few locals as well as a couple of known mercenaries from the Ebon Blade. However the Golden wheel folk did not stop to pay their usual respects or offer to greet, a silent bunch they headed out. What was more disturbing and unusual than anything else, the one who seemed to be leading them to their unknown destination was a balding man with a glorious moustache.

They left Soubar with Haste.

There had been talks in the streets of Nashkel and Baldurs gate that many of the Golden Wheel directors and even transit agents had one or even two other hooded figures following them. Men in hoods who bore no sigil or namesake to say who or what they were, or even what they were doing. If one looked closely, one would see that even the directors were carrying more weapons than usual, eyes seemingly always scanning the horizon.

Recently rumors even spread from Soubar that one balding man with a glorious moustache met with the Baron Captain Greil himself to discuss something urgent inside the Ebon blade keep.

Some time ago, rumours in Nashkel being what they are, the time was not known exactly, but the place was. The Northen lights tavern had quite the gathering of Golden Wheelers, a meeting had been called.

The usual banter and such heard in these meetings were gone, some of the local drunks in the tavern swore that they could hear swearing and curses to make even pirates proud from the meeting room, one of them even claimed they heard something or someone hit and furniture being broken

Perhaps the men had been a bit too deply in their cups, but one thing they got right, there had been a meeting, and a lot of the Golden Wheel had attended it.

A letter delivered by a young messenger is brought to the Golden Wheel - the intent is to bring it into the hands of a man named Kiran. He would describe Kiran as a sweaty man with a balding scalp. The messenger, leaves as quickly as he can.

Rumours had it that several couriers set out from the Northen light inn in Nashkel, a Moustached man was overseeing the letters and parchments they were given, all of the couriers astride noble steeds, clearly no coin had been spared on these fine courier specimens.

After a short talk and whisper the three couriers set off, all in mostly different directions, spurring their horses on.




Whatever it was they were delivering seemed urgent.

After standing in the rain for a while, seeing the couriers disappear the Moustached if slightly balding man returned to the comforts of the inn, though his expression seemed concerned.