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

“I feel ashamed. Powerless. Yet again. Even though I promised to protect my friends with all the divine powers I had, yet there were not enough. Because of me both my comrades died. I was not sure where was Kilrahel, probably goblins got his body, but ******...I failed them both. And here was coming the vulture of Shar. I snatched the body fast and ran to the town of Sshamath with godspeed. It did not matter who will raise them, Lolth or Vhaerun, I did not care! He should have lived. I would never allow Ist’aonar to get his body for the needs of these freaks! Still he caught up to me, trying to make me abandon him. What he was saying was right: I was weak, I could not protect them, and perhaps I truly had no right to protest on these claims. But I had responsibilities to complete. A bag of gold gave me the passage through the blackguard. After few deals, body was raised, soul returning back from oblivion. Yet a sense of defeat was fresh. I must grow stronger. I must overcome hardships and train on the most horrid monsters of the Underdark to improve my sword skill and pray to Eilistraee for letting me get power, more power! Not to destroy as once I asked from Araushnee, but for protection and healing. So I refused the company of the saved male and went to the solitude of the caverns, my sword as the only friend and protection in the darkness of the deeps...

It was hard. Challenging. Exhausting. It took all my efforts to beat my way through the hordes of the horrid abominations I saw. My home was where I could rest and reverie at least for two hours. No constant hideout. Only wish to grow stronger was pushing me on these crazy berserker attacks. I avoided my comrades, believing that I am not ready to wash away the shame of the last defeat. Some of them even thought I had malice against them. And finally, the coming day came. The day when after another meditation I perfected the way to summon the souls of the dead back to life and gained blessing of divine power. Now, I was ready to meet my comrades. This time, no defeats are to be in my wake!

The silhouette of the body snatching wizards came to my mind. These powers I gained must be used for good of many. How much of unfortunate souls fly to their hosts due to betrayals or fierce fight for survival? Greater power gives greater responsibility. So I decided to organize my patrols, which I continue to these days, helping the injured or dying travelers if I am not late.”

“...But boy, that is easier said than done. Some of these unfortunate ones are decent men, but mostly I meet self confident jerks who ignore my help like it was not even needed. I saved their lives, for crying out loud!!! Not even ‘thank you’. My soul is given eternal tests of faith with every try to help the travelers. But what a great feeling it is when blessings and healing are rewarded with smiles and thanks! I never felt that great before. Or did I? I guess I was born for this. Not for the... [Whatever was written here was smudged by the ink, perhaps intentionally]

Anyway, this is my true calling. Fighting against the odds to protect weak, needy, cowardly, stupid (yeah, I met such guys). Challenging great monsters to emerge victorious, healing with a soothing chant or giving blessings to the reckless if I could not help with their endeavor or stubbornness. I love it.

Recently, I found a pile of books instead of the treasure I expected. Usually, if I was my old self, I would throw it away in the pyre or something. But not this time. Nys taught me many things, including yearning for knowledge. So happened I found that type of book. Lucky me!
So I started reading. I hated to give attention to the numbers and dates. The biggest interest were the epic tales of the adventurers, true or exaggerated, new places yet to be discovered or I have yet to visit.
Once I found some journals about some mad ramblings of Ghanadaur fanatic. First thing I did was ripping it apart with my blade and burning every page with blessings of the Maiden. Yes, I hate and despise followers of Unholy Spider Queen, but not to that extent as the Ghanadaurian priests. If most revere the Araushnee more with fear than true belief, the minions of Elder Elemental Eye are absolute evil fanatics. They can never be redeemed. They can never feel love. They can never understand compassion. They can never be allowed to walk freely. With that in mind, I was reciting the oath to keep evil servants of the Dark Seldarine away from the light of the moon and sun, away from chances to deal pain and suffering.”

“That horrible taste...Taste of... Betrayal...
I betrayed my comrades on my path. I call them comrades because deep inside I believe that they had a squint of faith in me aside from the wishes to get the dagger or crossbow bolt in my back the moment I let my guard down. Before I led them to slaughter-trap without any chances for survival, killing them one by one, swiftly and mercilessly. But this was different.
I cherished him as my friend, helped him and supported him. I saved him from death few times. What the hell? WHY did he betray me? Why THAT man, who swore to himself the vengeance on the yathrin, became their hound dog, the vile dread fang of Lolth? Him? Fanatic warrior? That would be a joke that could make me die from laughter, though it is not such preposterous idea when you wake up on the altar of the damned spider. I saw the Viera with triumphant grin as she grasped my throat and thrown me to the ground, trying to pin me down to it. Rage was coming from the subconscious mind that gave me powers to resist even when priestess made enchantments to raise her strength. It was the realization of identity of the male who kneeled before her before he came closer to restrain me and shown his face to my blurry eyes. Padril...
Suddenly, my power left me. I had no spirit to fight or even chant prayers to the Lady. They say, my people, that death is ultimate defeat. That is wrong. Ultimate defeat is betrayal. Your friend’s betrayal. That is the worst thing that may happen. Drow do not get friends, otherwise there would be no existence of word abbil – friend until he won’t be not needed anymore. I never used that word. For friendship was sacred to me. But not to him, I saw. With that final stab, the torture I felt on the whims of the Viera felt like ambrosia in comparison. My head was burning, mind phased in and out, blood flowed like a river when metallic needles pierced my flesh. I felt nothing. I’d better feel the physical pain instead.
The strange part was that I was thrown out of the House instead of being kept in dungeon. I wonder why?


“...Now I know why. There was something left on me. The touch of unholy deity.
It seems that I was cursed. First symptoms were in the tavern near the yath’abban wench who was sitting there.
I met Viera again. I decided that I will meet her with bravery, but was pretty surprised. Horrified, to be exact. Shudder and convulsion went down my spine the moment she came closer. I felt cold fangs of horror without any real reason, though I was scared from the unknown affliction, but not to that extent. Legs bended down from wave of weakness and nausea, it was suddenly hard to breath. And it was going worse with her every step to me. That mocking laughter, that self-confident posture. I knew she was the reason of it. It was her curse. What did she do to me while I was unconscious? Now that question was unanswered while she was coming closer with malice in her eyes..."

[OOC:Hi. I get pretty lazy with the journal. And I keep having troubles remembering exact situations. So, I am very sorry.]

“Hello again, my paper friend, or whoever found this journal. I am glad to be writing this, because it is proof that I am alive. There was a danger of coming into embrace of oblivion, be it in the realm of the Eilistraee or Demonweb Pits of Araushnee, on my own volition or not. Yes, these thoughts came to me in the cells of the accursed spider crazed vyshan. But the torture was only part of the reason. The reason was...
Starting from where it ended: she was coming closer, the unknown affliction burning out my body with every step of the yath’alar. On the distance of the hand touch, my mind was drifting in and out of consciousness, intense pain partially responsible for keeping me from instantly falling in the pleasant lure of the dream. Pleasant at that time, that is. First thought was that it could not be worse. It was a grave mistake to consider this. Every time you think that way here, in the Underdark, my kin prove you wrong in the bluntest, but efficient way. Many devices that I knew from the days of learning in the academy which could bring immense pain with just one use immediately lost their value when my body experienced new kind of torture. Pathetic as it sounds, it was just one touch of her hand. No spells, no force, not even hidden barbed needle. One light touch. For me it was explosion of all my senses, incredible agony pulsing wildly. I think for few seconds I was out, because near Viera appeared another priestess. Another discovery: the presence of the priestesses that activates the curse is cumulative. I hardly cared for the mocking remarks and taunts of the priestesses. Only the weakest gestures could be made under pressure, and not many words made sense to me.

“... guards won’t help you...”

True. Be it somewhere else, they would help with the torture. At least I was glad that they hardly cared to give any reaction at all. That was for the best. I only needed to survive. Survive to...
Another person appeared. Necromancer. The only thing that can explain the black and red robes with heavy stench of decay. Not as heavy as Istie’s. Acolyte, perhaps? It was no good. It gets only worse. Some blabber and the girl moved closer with something in the hands. A bottle with some murky green stuff. The reputation of such consistency and evil smirk on the face of the apprentice hinted that no matter what, I must not drink it. Grabbing my throat, she tried to force me drinking it. As I tried to resist, horror overcame me while the wench was bragging about the nature and effect of ghastly potion. If it gets in me, I could consider myself dead. That was hardly in my life plan, you know? So the desperate trashing with my weak body was redoubled to save myself from this horrible misery that waited me on failure. The falling bottle, sound of the broken glass and spilling liquid told about the success. Angry grimace of the woman brought a giggle in my mind. I hardly could say anything after the acidic burning in my mouth. I heard the incantation too late to brace myself against stream of acid. Flash of pain and malice in her eyes driven me over the edge. She must die. That was the only thing on my mind. With weakness all over me I could only whisper few words and move my fingers. That was more than enough for my burning anger. With weak, but fast and furious incantation, I motioned fingers in her direction. Wail of pain and she slipped down on the ground. The sins that were weighing her down were too much for her mind, it seemed. I had my satisfaction. With one less fiend to plague the world, I slipped away out of consciousness...
Not for long. Immense pain in my body made me to open my eyes and gasp for breath, the air taken away from me with that malicious wound. I was still lying on the ground, three pairs of red orbs glaring at me in the bright light of the Sshamath. The necromancer was alive it seems, her face grimacing from mixed anger, frustration and thirst for revenge. Still, the parade was under command of the yath’alar. Her leather boot pinned me to the ground in the chest, new pulses of agony coursing through my whole spine. Her face was coming closer, mocking laughter nearly deafening my ears. With a hiss, I moved my hands, fighting the nausea and trying to form the words needed to at least leave a burn on her face.

“I can release you from the curse.”

These words had sudden unexpected impact on me. I lost my concentration, hands falling down weakly and hard lump appearing in my throat, preventing appearance of words, instead of them weak groans went out of my mouth. So Viera continued to explain her deal to me. Every word took away my will, despair overcoming me. In the end I could not accept it. No way. This was the most dread thing I could do. And that was the only thing that could break my curse. Leaving me alone these three monsters gone away to wait for my decision. I was left alone to choose between death of my body and corruption of my soul.
Few days later...Or tendays... I could not grasp the count of time. And that is when she came to me again with someone else..."

Waking up in the cell again. I was saying again because that was fourth time I tried to get reverie in it. Nothing bothered me that time except for eerie feeling of doom. Not spiders. From the childhood they were avoiding me. Some thought it was a sign of the favor, the blessing, the proof of my power that was lying inside me. Perhaps it was true. But not now. The powers that manifest inside me are devoted to her and her alone. I owe her much. Maybe it is my imagination, but I think it was fortunate I started following her. My savior, my beam of light. She asked nothing of me except for heading down. Giving her blessings and her dogmas. She did not ask for loyalty or pledge to serve. Just gave me directions. It was my decision to go down here and do her will. Although I did not really understand where the Abyss I am going and what do I do...

And somewhere out there, maybe close to my cell, inside this House must have been locked away that woman. How bad I never asked her name. Maybe I should have thought this through and instead say something less insulting to make look like I agree on it. Only to see her again. Still, past is past and I am here, waiting for my future.
Looking at my hand it was unimaginable that it was ravaged with jagged knife not so long ago. No traces of that whatsoever. They knew the art of torture. If it was done with more personnel and not just on my hand... I can still feel the chill in my spine from the numbing paralyzing pain. How long would it take for spiders to come through and bite me to death? When I will be covered in shame and robbed of dignity to end my life on the altar? These were my thoughts until the door of the cell opened... Viera.
I decided to face her with dignity, calmly. If I was to die, then, I will prove that the way of Eilistraee is true. So the moment the usual insults came. I talked. About how perverse and pathetic her ways were. About my true nature as former yath’abban. The last reference shocked her. And perhaps saved my life. Suddenly she stepped out of the cell and started chanting. That was my turn to be surprised after I saw the familiar incantation. Instead of loosing hell of iron blades on me as I expected, the whirling blades appeared on the entrance. Then she told me that if I will come through, she will release me. It sounded as crazy lie. I hesitated, but considered that there will be nothing bad if try to play along. The death on the blades sounded more interesting than one on the altar. So I stood up and ran into the madness of the steel. The blades only nicked my flesh, leaving not as grievous wounds as I expected. Then the familiar nausea pulsed through me. I fell down right out of the iron storm, lying flat before her and shivering. The look she gave to me. The strange combination of despite and ... what? Was that respect? Hardly. I could not register with my head spinning.
Every knock of the boot against the stone was echoing in my ears. The sudden surge of pain as she grabbed my hair and dragged me was stunning. I could do nothing. Strange, but instead of moving down she dragged me up. How did I know? The cursed steps almost broke my back. On the stop I opened my eyes and could not believe it. The entrance to the quellar. Why? She still continues to play that sick game to crush my hope? She moved away, her face grim, but confident. I could not understand what she was up to, but stood up. The game continues, no matter if I want it or not. I stood up without hiding the shock. Her lips only formed two words.

“Elliya Lolthu.”

“Lolth, test me.” The common phrase of the clerics. I do not remember what I replied. I moved to the exit under her mocking laughter, expecting a crossbow bolt, the dagger in my rib, the spell to bind and bring more suffering – anything that they could throw at me.
There was nothing. Moving away from the structure of the quellar I could not notice any scouts or spies who could track me down to the room in the fest hall. Even entering the room and mending the wounds did not help to clean myself from the feeling of dread that was upon me. Next actions were purely reactions out of fear. Hands grabbed all my possessions, placing them in the bag. Few moments later I was out of town, alone against the darkness of the wilds, waiting for goddess knows what. There was no pursuit. Nothing.
Few cycles later I had an idea why I was released. Most likely she did not see me as yathalil, but as the shebali yathrin. The prey that must be hunted. The unworthy foe that has no chance. It is humiliating, but the only conclusion that made sense to me. Depression on that realization was crushing.

Another day cycle in the caves outside the city.

I started to hate this. Hardly any place to be safe, hardly any game that is edible without consequences. Occasional trips to the city give me the needed supplies which are unavailable outside of Sshamath. I met few people in there. Mostly not the best encounters. Wizard apprentices with no backbone to live freely beyond the reach of the clergy (even here!), the members of quellars, and Charnag Maelthra agents (I hate their attitude). There is no way to live that way without anything to relieve the stress. The beverage? No way. It must not be used this way. There is only one way then... And one of my most favored. Seeking challenges made me enter new grounds against stronger opponents. With greater risk to lose my life.

With new strength I started pursuing the art of the sword I ignored. Why I did not consider it much of a way? In the end, sword is tool for ending life of other, be it monster or innocent infant. Nothing more. Yet I needed to survive. I dream to live free till the death from old age with many children and grand... Geee, I sound so stupid! Instead of training I wrote some foolish ranting about this? I must find a good practice target.

I found my way. Or so I think. With the prayers to her I run at the monsters with abandon, making even these predators lose their beat in the battle. Faith can give strength to continue your fight even when you are grievously wounded. While she exists, I am not going to give up to the hardships. Avoid, but not give up. So I continue my patrols, to the Istie's great annoyance. Even though I owe him my life, I cannot trade it for the lives of the other, so beat it, shadow mania freak! You get only monster parts, but not anything else. Not the bodies of the people. I really started to run low on diamonds. (The gem trader really drives hard bargain) Again, that is not the thing that can stop my resolve. With charged rod of resurrection, I seek out those in need or those who were in need, to be precise.

Still, there are instances when I am powerless. I have no control over the souls of the dead. It is their choice if they come back and continue to live or go ... somewhere else. The life in the Underdark is one of suffering. Some of the creatures cannot bear to live again, especially if they have benefactor who can give sanctuary for their souls. There is nothing I can do about this. Unless...

Yesterday I bought the little shovel and got some flasks of water to hallow them. I am not savior. I just serve my Goddess and follow the path I believe in. And one of my duties is to not allow the dread wizards to dishonor spirits of the dead and make them suffer. Their bodies must not be found, nor they must be able to rise on their own. With prayers and holy water, I make it true... At least for some time.

The memories came to me when I was bandaging my wounds while sitting in the temporary sanctuary that I claimed after defeating the swarm of umber hulks. It was one hell of a fight, but anyway...

The coming to the surface... I barely knew the things around me, blinded by scorching visage of the sun. Everything that is usual and common for me now was alien, but not without fascination, though the burning in my eyes did not give me such ideas at first. And the dagger in my hand knew of the blood spilled not so long in the caves.

It made me laugh as I remembered the moment when I approached the tree that was shaking from the blowing wind with dagger in hand, slowly and with fear. But then I just spat on all of this and went closer, taking away the weapon. Better to die here than on sacrifical altar. It made me wonder when my palm touched the rough bark of the tree. No spores, no poison, no tentacles. Nothing. A little confused and disappointed, I hugged the trunk in dismay, burning with ambition to make any reaction appear on the hideous patient monster. The oak (I after that knew it was oak) bark was somehow pleasant on the touch of my cheek. Hard, but gentle. Having my senses back, I stepped away, chuckling. There was so much to explore and learn in this land.

The first predators. Unlike the usual monsters of the deeps, these were pretty simple and gave no feelings of fear. And they were not so smart either. At least some of them. The wolves were the ones that nearly took my life, the pack attacking with unique coordination. Yet, it was not so different from the priest training. Surprisingly, they knew when they should retreat, one of them down and few getting cuts of the dagger. So I was left with quite an impression. The growling stomach gave me the old thought that I had not eaten in a long time. My first cooking experience, huh...

But there was much more after that which made me wonder if it was good that I was born as the drow...

Again, reminiscing about my past while sitting on corpse of the extremely big umber hulk...

I found the sun (which at that time I called as all my kin called it - blazing fire orb of the surface) pretty annoying, it was damn hot if you stand it's rays. I think I got some sunburns that time. The blinding light was preventing me from looking up, so I had to look down with narrowed eyes to see at least something.
Then, sitting in the shadow of the bush leaves and eating my charred piece of meat, (Yes, I could not cook, stop laughing!) I noticed a strange thing. I heard about it, but did not believe it. It was moving. The light grown dimmer when the sun was disappearing somewhere beyond. I expected the complete darkness like the cave I once came out from. Panic was rising in my mind with every bit it moved beyond, disappearing bit by bit. In the darkness, IT will come for me. The goddess I betrayed and who will want her payment for my treachery. Trembling in the expectancy of doom, I was watching with my watery eyes at the disappearing disk, changing my opinion about it. How the coming death changes your sight on things you never considered!
So here I was, curled up in the bushes, my eyes closed for the whole time. I ignored the vermin crawling on my skin and any animals that were close. Horror paralyzed my limbs and numbing my thoughts. This was the longest night I ever experienced.
When the first rays of the sun fell in through the leaves of the bushes, I stood up, welcoming my savior. Sudden exposing to the light made my eyes hurt like with fire, but I could care less. I was alive. I survived the darkness she lurks in. I survived. This was something I needed to celebrate.
Food. It was something that relatively was hard to get. My attempts to hunt were completely pathetic. I was already having second doubts if it was a good idea to leave my gear behind and make it look like I died in trying by spilling some of my blood on it near my betrayed group. Still, this was what had to be done. One dagger I took with me... Actually, not even a dagger. A knife. I still cannot believe I used that to defend myself.
So I had to take the risks. Again, I was saved by the trees. Maybe if I was of different sort, I would choose to be the one of those people, living close with the wild. But no. I was fallen cleric. This was hardly my thing.
I saw the strange fruits on the trees, similar to those I saw on the markets of exotic goods. It was called apple. I still wondered if all these organic silent constructs were as silent and peaceful as the first I touched. I came closer and took one of those that were on the ground. They looked riper, I thought. Still... I took one bite at it. Stunned by the surprisingly good taste, almost one minute was done before I started munching down the fruit.
This was the place for me. I decided to reside here, not moving anywhere. Well, there were things that made me wonder what is out there. But cowardice took over the reins.

Standing up in the cave surrounds from the rotting aberration, I chanted the prayer, summoning the fire to engulf the corpse of the monster. I have no haven here. So I moved on, blade in my hand and shield in the other as my means to carve the place in the Land of Darkness.

[The handwriting is made as if written by trembling hand]

This is unbearable...

I have no hunters aiming for my life. Monsters are no longer problem and the run away when they sense me near, at least the umber hulks. But yet I feel powerless, pathetic and vulnerable. The shadows creeping on me... I am going crazy. The evil cackle following my every step is ringing in my ear with pain. Am I scryed? Why I am not attacked? Who the hell is that? Viera? I would prefer her appearing before me with her cohorts than doing this. Yet no assassins aim at me when I resupply at the city. Only that eerie laughter... I can hardly lift that uneasy feeling from myself. I am scared. I start even to light the surrounds to keep shadows away. Yet, the light makes them grow larger... What do I do?

I cannot do this. Eilistraee forgive me, but I really cannot do this. I really appreciate what you've done to me, but screw this! There is nothing I can do! That girl could be dead as well. And that curse... I have no way to be near the district where the quellars are located. I must move out of this place. If only I could find the entrance... The member of Bregan I met told me about the Charnag officer, Tobias. They have information I need.

No way out... Trapped. Heh. It seems I am forced to be here. So be it.
Not until I join the Charnag. I will have my heart out with greater pleasure than join these busybodies.

Still, strange meetings happen. Dhaunin Helviat. Strange, perhaps mentally unstable womanizer with that ridiculous red mask on his face. He has some air about him. Him being the leader of Bregan D'aerthe gives many doubts about what he told me. Yet I learned something from him that is quite shocking and proves that my fears were unfounded. Viera is dead. Betrayed, as I heard. Yet... Her curse is still on. Perhaps it is her shadow that mocks me from the other side. At least I do not burn in the Abyss. Yet. But the deals with gold can help in few errands that I need to run. If not...
Damn it, I must leave this journal to somebody so I could at least be left in good memory.
And there was this strange offer he made me. I want to trust him. I really do. But I cannot. The Bregan mercenaries are hunters for profit. They will never help out of good will. Never. I cannot believe his claims. Any but one.
His music is fascinating and really made me stop in awe, forgetting about my troubles. Is that your blessing? Is that your gift to us, my Goddess? Can that music change the hearts of people? Yet again, those who are not touched by the song have no heart. Demons do not understand the songs.

[The tears on the notes told that there was something written, but then it was torn out.]

[The most recent notes are made in more lively tones, there are few crude drawings of people faces]

I met quite some people in this hell hole of a city. A few Charnag officials. Particularly Val'feng. Necromancer and officer of Charnag Maelthra. Quite a breed. I want no part with this group. Heard some rumours about their warrior, Izz'orgol Zress. Heard he is quite a freako who kills without reason on a whim. Saw him once from distance. I just had no wish to come closer. [The drawings of their faces are made with horns, beards and whiskers]
There were quite good encounters. I met D again. We had some practice with the flute arranging together. Now I am more or less qualified to say I follow Her way. I doubt that I can approach that mastery of the art as his, however. Perhaps he does worships her, but I just think he said that to get a free pass at me. Cute devil has his ways. i wonder what is behind this mask of his...
[The masked face of Dhaunin is crudely drawn, variations of him unmasked near in the row.]
And of course, what is the Underdark without yathrinen? Cazna Sshamath... Quellar Sshamath...It is slowly growing in power. Enough to compete with the Mori'hyanda. Yet the Mori is diminishing in power...
[The face of this priestess was drawn with long sharp teeth and snake eyes, head attached to the drawn spider body.]
I finally found her. Ashana. She is quite a beautiful sight to behold. The human blood mixed with devious drow traits created this gorgeous being. The air around her. The tranquility... I never experienced that before, even at first meeting. Even if she swings the other way and even made some moves at me, it was relieving to see her again. [The drawing depicted gorgeous half-drow with long hair, clad in the heavy plate. On the face of the woman there was a smile with mixed sadness and calmness.]
I wonder how she wears that stupidly heavy armor...

A pretty recent writing appears after old ones.

"Heya, yellowing chum. I neglected you for some time, and perhaps you will be getting dusty. When I get at least three songs of my own composition, you will have new job as keeper of my immature (Yes, I admit it) bawdy songs. What can I tell you so fun? So much happened that I barely have time to remember taking you out of my bag. I guess better to not talk write about it. So long."