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

[Actual Journal Entry]

It is strange to me. This is the longest relationship I have had besides my first mate. Also strange is how content I am. Like I have some sort of rock beneath me that holds my emotions in check. Maybe a pressure is better. I still get angry, I still get sad, but these things are not as controlling as before. I have not felt the red curtain at all.

The pinkskins remain half idiots. Now I hear they plan to order every orc killed on sight. As one who walks between both cultures I don't know what will happen for me. Worse, what will happen for my children and my tribe. I am trying, but I am no good with politics. Perhaps there are some with silver tongues who will help me, I do not know. Maybe I can plead my case.

We could always go Below, but I would miss here, where I have learned so much... and I would have to shift how I earned favors too. It is funny to think the pinkskins want me to be their enemy as much maybe as I want to be their ally.

There was a problem with hobgoblins, and Grubnar and I went to help the many who were dying trying to stop it. I took his hand and he mine and we stepped through the Gates of Green, into the swamps the hobgoblins call home. We felled maybe a hundred or more. He at the front, I behind, casting protections and the occasionally summoned storm. But he got too eager after we killed their chief and Grubnar ran into the middle of their camp.

That was where the trouble began. He was cut off from me and suddenly fell under a swarm. I screamed, and at the same time a wizard threw a great fireball between the swarm that was now coming towards me. "I think we should run now..." He shouted over the roar of their battle cries.

I tried to fight them, but there were too many, so I turned and ran. I ran until they stopped giving chase and then collapsed, tending to my wounds. "Please... can you help him?" I begged the wizard who nodded and muttered some words to go unseen. It took time, too much time, to heal myself. I had only gotten out on adrenaline and my lifetime of survival instincts. My body was sorely beaten, broken and even my magics took a while to mend.

All the time the most excruciating agony was that the wizard still wasn't back. It was taking too long, much much too long. Finally he appeared, just as I had used my staff as a crutch and decided to storm in there damn the consequences.

What he laid down... was a pile of gore. He had mostly gathered up what was left of Grubnar. The bastards had used his entrails as decoration and it'd taken the wizard time to wind them all back into my husband's body.

I shook with rage. From my feet rose the drumbeat of war. It urged me to let go of it all, to howl my fury wield my ax and charge into battle, eyes white with the lightening of my power.

Which would have been very orc of me... and very stupid.

I had control, it hurt but I had control. So instead and drew out a relic of a rod, something of considerable power, and rested it upon the corpse of my love, my Guardian, my mate. Grubnar does not know what happened and I do not mean to tell him unless he asks. It would hurt his pride, no matter how many he killed before. Instead I took to head of their chief to the Fist, hoping to earn some reward for Grubnar's nearly permanent death.

While the Fist know me, and I have done well in earning their respect by protecting and even rescuing many of their number, I was told that no Writ of permission could be issued for Grubnar. That was when I learned of the law that people were trying to pass. The one to kill orcs at sight.

"Don't do anything rash" I was told. But what is rash? Right now, I face the fact that soon the people I have fought for and protected, bled for... that these very people may try to kill me soon, and try to kill my husband... and .. and my children.

That above all frightens me.

Grubnar's closeness keeps me calm most of the time, and I try to keep the looming law out of my mind. A year ago this would have sent me into a panic and a rage. I would have maybe tried to corner and threaten people in hopes of getting this thing to go away. Now, however, I do not. I will do my best to try and keep the lands I claim for our tribe safe. ... I just hope that we will not be turned upon by the frightened humans.

The irony is it was humans who turned the orcs upon humans. Somehow I and my tribe just got stuck in the middle.

[A journal entry, written in Druidic]

Druids, Druids everywhere,
And not a soul will heed.
Death decay do fill the air,
But none is fit to lead.

There lies the corpse of seed and sun,
Yon trees of age untold.
Yet who declares the cure begun,
And breaks pride's dreadful hold?

They fuss and fight o'r golden coin,
And side with bigotry.
A new beginning we must join,
To wrest the Land's will free.

How far they fall, how weak their pow'r,
To let the Circle break.
The taint has taken them this hour;
I mourn their weakened state.

Druids, Druids everywhere,
And not a soul will heed.
Death decay do fill the air,
But none is fit to lead.

[Actual Journal Entry]

I recently learned of an elf who was once a human. For a long time my best friend was a human who was female but who had once been male. It seems the gods enjoy changing people's roles, to give perspective or for some other joke maybe.

Araulan suggested he may be able to teach me how to look like a human if I wanted to, for when I need to interact with them. But that begs the question: If I could, would I want to be a human?

The fast knee-jerk reaction is: Hell No!

But let me look at this closer. It is true in some ways I have picked up traits my kin would consider very human. I can speak their language, negotiate peacefully. I keep my temper, mostly. War is the last of my tactics rather than my first. Running is acceptable. I like to ply for favors and alliances through gifts rather than intimidation.

But I also have tried to keep my heritage, as best as I can in these lands and remain alive. I still have a warrior's heart, a fierce pride of our strength and bonds. I still keep to the dancing, and I still miss the way a tribe would build up with a core around the females who would all raise the young ones together. I respect strength and wisdom, and the simple straight-forward way we dealt with so many things the humans try to tangle up with complications.

In some ways humans and the other pinkskins are prospering because they have learned how to hide their ugly sides that sometimes make orcs look like Ilmateri. This has lured many in their cultures into a false sense of security and made many weak, unprepared for the true harshness of the world.

My kin on the other hand, we grow our children to know that harshness is life, that survival is hardly a guarantee and that to be strong or clever or fast is the only way that the world will let you live or reward you at all. A lazy orc is a dead orc.

These good and bad things, these are why I cannot bring myself to just go back to being an orc, tell the Black Orcs all of what I know and help them infiltrate and destroy the lands that wish to give chase and finish them for good. I would not fit in with them. Nor would I fit in with the humans and their weak, pampered and confused culture that praises some types of murder and hates other types of murder.

The reason I side with the humans and other pinkskins of the land is that they hold the most potential threat if I want to live and move in these lands. My dream is a place to call home, a territory for my tribe where none will try to hunt or kill us. A wild place, a place of bounty, a place where I can raise my children in the ways I have learned in my life - not all orc, not human either.

I still stand by my fear that, if I found myself suddenly human, I would consider suicide to escape. A frightening thought given the way I seem to be getting involved with gods a lot.






Still not certain why Luthic's vision didn't kill me.

Family Orc

The house had been abandoned deep in the woods. Part of it had been burned down, some of it torn down by time and nature. But it had good bones, and the local wildlife was no danger to Kaltyra or Grubnar. With the patron bear Kile to watch over them when they were out, their children would be safe too even into their youthful adventures years. Besides, Kaltyra had reasoned, if their children couldn't wrestle everything in these woods into submission they had no business leaving to seek their own fortunes as adults.

A shallow clear stream ran nearby and there were enough dead trees to rebuild the house into a passable shelter. The Grumbarite Druid and Cleric of Chauntea easily wove live plants in to the rest of the shelter to camouflage it from passers by. While the structure felt like a human-druid hybrid, the inside was decidedly orc. Furs, carvings, rough hewn furniture, smoked meats and an expertly constructed cooking circle gave the entire place a rustic tribal feel, while the scattering of wooden axes and other toys reminded the viewer of the three children who called this place home.

There, on shelves still too high for the young ones to reach, were the herbs and medicines of a shaman - the cause for the heavy scent of spices that mingled with familiar orc musk.

Kaltyra tucked her arm under Grubnar's as he held their youngest son, Duzun. Just outside their home they were watching Uzik and Kho'gnok scamper through the clearing their parents had prepared. It was no perfect life, but it was good. Good good as Grubnar would say.. or in their language "Ona Ona".

The sun would rise soon and it would be time for the children and their parents to sleep, secure against the blinding sunlight, together. They would curl into their furs sharing their warmth, sharing their touch and scent, being a family. It was a sort of 'happily ever after' for Kaltyra. Something she'd have laughed at when she first ran from her tribe years ago.

Maybe, sometime soon, she'd leave the pinkskin world altogether. Maybe she would recluse with her children and see just to raising them to be good orcs. Maybe she would...

It was harder and harder to rationalize her attempts at making peace with the pinkskins. It was less and less likely to get any better than it was as it seemed every time she made strong allies they vanished. She seemed to have reached a plateau and short of a few scattered pinkskins who relied on her for support, most would not miss her.

Either way, Kaltyra knew her family came first.



The Children

Kho'Gnok (Strong Grey)
Age: 3
Sex: Male
Description: Son of Barnak. Coarse black hair done up in dreadlocks. Light greenish-gray skin like Kaltyra, blood red eyes like his father. Already bears several scars, marking him as a rough and tumble warrior. Kho prefers not wearing a shirt unless it's too cold. Covering most of his back is a large tattoo of Mystra's holy symbol: an eight-pointed star with a halo around it.

Mischief runs in his blood and he'll gladly take on larger foes until and unless someone larger establishes dominance. Kho takes on animals and enjoys eating raw meat - ideal raw meat he just killed. He has learned -some- human manners from his time at Mercy's, but has to be reminded. Kho is partly fluent in common and orc.

Uzik (Courage)
Age: 2
Sex: Female
Description: Daughter of Wirg. Pitch black skin of her father, the amber eyes of her mother. Uzik has no scars yet. She has picked up some basic 'bear' and is able to communicate with Kile, her go-to babysitter, very well. Uzik is more human in her mannerisms and expectations. She is not as tough or as violent. She knows some orc, but more common. Hair is kept long and braided.

Though Uzik does not like to fight, the fact she tumbles with Kile regularly means when Kho fights, she can put up a decent defense. No question which of the two is stronger though - definitely not Uzik. Uzik's best defense is her bite which, from teething on ironwood toys Grubnar gave her, is very powerful.

Duzun (You)
Age: Newborn
Sex: Male
Description: Son of Grubnar. Green-grey skin like his parents, pale yellow eyes. Of note, Duzun came born with little tusks which was a little unusual. He's also large for a infant.

Tainted Dreams

The forest was beautiful. Trees so tall you couldn't see the tops, canopies so thick barely any light filtered all the way to the ground. Life flitted and chirped, scampered and chittered. Life was everywhere. Kaltyra walked along until she came to a clearing, following a sound that didn't match the peaceful atmosphere. The cry of a wounded deer.

But in this dream she wasn't hunting. No the deer looked up and bleated again, asking for aid. She complied, pulling out the woven moss and leaf-ointments to mend the chewed parts of it's hind quarters. But just as Kal managed to seal the wounds another cry of alarm rang out from the deer. "It's got me! Help!" The doe screamed as bite marks appeared on it's neck and shoulders. Kal turned quickly, trying to stop the bleeding but more and more bites appeared, until suddenly the doe screamed "NOOOOOO! HEEELPPP!"

---------

Kaltyra woke up.

The sun burned her eyes so it took a moment before she realized she was kneeling naked before the corpse of a deer. She blinked a moment, trying to process what was dream and what had not been. Yes.. she was in the woods, not a clearing but definitely woods and...

She licked her lips, noting the delicious taste of fresh blood.

Ah, yes there was the doe, chewed and bitten. She licked her fingers idly, where her nose told her there was more blood from her sleep-hunt. Her amber eyes traced the corpse, accessing if there was any more good meat on it, but her night-savaging had apparently been rather indiscriminate.

The smell of blood made her belly rumble. She shook her head and cut off a leg for the road, then turned and walked out of the woods in nothing but her birthday suit. Every few steps she'd take a bite out of the raw leg, chewing in contemplation.

She really hoped Grubnar wouldn't be too worried. It was probably just stress.

Double Doomed

“Excellent wards by the way, I haven’t had such a difficult time breaking in in centuries.” The lich’s voice grated the orcess’ ears as the first thing she heard as she regained consciousness. “Now… what are you doing with my Kaltyra?”

“That’s none of your business and who are you to barge in here and demand anything of us?!” An angry man demanded in the corridor.

“Hmmm… no I have no qualms with your god. We will speak on friendly terms then. I am Bazu, and I have plans for my Kaltyra. I need to continue monitoring her progress. Are you intending to interfere with that?”

The orcess stifled a groan and pulled herself up to her feet. Not her first beating, wouldn’t be her last. She was in a dark nearly empty cave-like cell. The only suggestion of amenities she saw were a bucket for refuse and a door with a small barred window where the sounds were coming from.

Ah, she was a prisoner. Well, not the first time either… but something more important was on her mind. She knew that rancid smell of electric, dark power and dusty old bones. Lich… Bazu… Her tormenter. The one who had tainted her. Starting with dreams and cravings then...

Kaltyra’s ears flattened, piecing back what had happened as she continued to listen.

“What are your plans exactly?”

“She is an experiment on a new type of necromancy. If all goes according to plan, she’ll become both living… and undead.”

The orcess lost it at that point, mind snapping with that blind rage that went so beyond the Red Curtain that orcs were used to. Her mind nearly went blank, her body, broken as it was, lunging into the door with a thud that sent dust trickling down from the ceiling.

“LET ME OUT YOU DEMENTED BAG OF BONES!”

The two dark forces ignored her outburst, safe from anything she might want to do.

“You’ve nothing to worry about. You can have what’s left of her when we’re done.”

“Ah excellent. I don't really care how many times you kill her…”

She slammed into the door again, this time the door groaned under the ferocity of her attack.

“Quit that pounding or I’ll give the dragon time in your cell.” The man snarled. Then he muttered in disgust. “Animals belong in cages.”

The orcess snarled and lunged at the door again, but her adrenaline from the fear of becoming undead had waned and her broken body crumpled on this attack, slumping against the door.



…………………………………



A wash of despair kept her quiet for some time. She’d been resigned and distant ever since her involuntary attack on Lambe, but now she realized her worse fears were true. She really was becoming undead. Living undead… whatever that meant.

It hadn’t bothered her at first. The symptoms had felt strangely familiar. Just the sort of cravings and instincts she’d always dealt with as an orc, but without the steeled control she’d learned to harness over the years.

The third of four locked doors clicked open. She rose, hoping to try to talk some sense into her captors. After all, she had worked deals with the Bregan D’aerthe, the Seventh Circle and more besides. Surely she had to have some connection, some ally who would be willing to interject. Someone who these people wouldn’t want to tick off.

"Why? I was your friend. I cared when none other did. Helped you."

The hooded figure frowned. "You were always a tool."

"Whatever it is I'm sure we can work something-" Her words cut off at the scent of raw meat. It was happening again. Her mind clicking off as the raging hunger took over. The moment two bloody steaks appeared through the window slit she was on them, dragging them away and tearing into them like a ravenous beast.

Her captor stifled a chuckle. “You’re all just animals.”

She could hardly argue, if the words even registered in her addled mind.

When she had finished eating, lapping at the blood on her fingers, awareness creeped back into her. Kaltyra stiffened and sighed.

It was getting worse.

Day Three, Still Imprisoned
The musings of Kaltyra

At least it is not a cell of metal and wood. I think the stone around me is the only thing keeping me calm right now. Still no word on what they want from me. Still no answers.

The cravings come, the meat comes, I eat.

When I eat the meat it tastes like .. what is the human word? Ambrosia. Very good, so good, so purely divinely soul-filling that I cannot stop from consuming it. I must look like a wild beast when I feed.

I feel sick.

All my efforts to find a way to reverse this spell have been fruitless. The Elder Circle will not deign help an orc, no matter my years of service to them. The Ilmatari are my best hope now, but I have heard nothing from them. Perhaps this place is blocked from scrying and sendings. Who knows if they have even a clue how to remove it. I would have asked Za’than next… but well.. I can’t do anything in here.

All I can do is try to stay sane.

Meditations to the Earth Lord have yielded nothing. Perhaps it is the magic wards placed so thick upon the prison that even a simple create water spell will not work in here.

I am working on a plan. I will not sit here and rot.

Grubnar must be furious at not being able to find me.

I hope so at least.

I really hate to think no one even cares I’m gone.

Was I a tool to everyone, just like my traitorous captor says?

/// Disclaimer: I took liberties with some unnamed NPCs in this post. I didn't think it would matter since they reestablish status quo. If there is a problem with this, I firmly apologize and will gladly alter the story. Cheers! ///

Nightmares Turned Real

Uzik teetered as she chased her mother’s patron beast. The bear huffed softly, backing out of reach each time the toddler got closer. Kho’gnok was wrestling with Grubnar. The gentle giant Kaltyra called mate acted more as jungle gym and chew toy than as a worthy opponent - a far cry from the mighty warrior she knew he was.

As her family played idly, Kaltyra looked down at her newborn son, only a month old. Duzan lay awake, clenching and unclenching his tiny frail fists as he tried ineptly to grab her druidic bobbles which dangled from her garments. Life was good.

There was a break in the play and Grubnar walked over. It was one of the few times Grubnar showed his face. “Only to family.” He’d said, not wishing to share the skull-white tattoo that masked most of his head. It’d been with him since before he could remember, he’d said, much like the large Mystra tattoo Kaltyra had applied to Kho’gnok’s back after Mystra’s paladin had sacrificed soul essence to save his life.

Grubnar broke Kaltyra’s memories with a kiss that curled her toes and made her wish she weren’t holding Duzun right that moment. You’d have thought she’d have lost her ardor after a third child, but the orcess was as willing and eager as ever to share furs with her beloved mate.

Her nose twitched. She smelled blood. Expression wrinkling with concern she drew her hand from where it had cupped Grubnar’s face, bringing back rotted bleeding skin and muscle tissue. It wasn’t a tattoo of a skull – it WAS a skull that smiled at her.

“Our children grow big and strong.” Undead Grubnar declared in his content manner, as if nothing was wrong.

In reflex Kaltyra stared down at Duzun to see the child withered, eyes glossed over with death, but still his tiny fists tried to grab the bobbles on her chest. A bestial cry turned the orcess’s horrified attention to her patron bear, Kile. Kho’gnok and Uzik’s undead forms had toppled the bear and were feasting on Kile’s live flesh as the bear struggled.

………………….

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

The orcess sprang up from the corner of her cell she had been curled into, wide awake, heart pounding, pupils dilated with the night’s terror.

She didn’t think, just roared so loud it carried beyond the cell, the torture chamber and up into the foul temples above. The sound carrying bestial rage and fear no words could describe as her body shuddered and began to bulk, gathering up the stone around her, hardening like diamonds.

The cell door thrust open as a creature with supernatural strength pulverized it off its hinges despite the additional wards.

“CRAP! I thought you warded against magic!”

“It’s a natural ability, damn it. Didn’t anyone think about this?! She’s a swiving druid!”

The guards swore, sounding alarms as spells flew hard and fast to hit the rampaging earth elemental. Torture implements flew, the floors buckled and ceilings dropped massive chunks of stone as the creature barreled through.

Priests and warriors filed down the stairs, blocking the creatures path. More spells flung and finally the elemental fell, collapsing into the unconscious orc once more.

…………………………

She awoke still bleeding, bruised but stabilized. Kaltyra reached up to touch the wound on her forehead but stopped as the sound of metal chain registered. Her arms and legs were manacled to a new cell floor.

Glumly she noted how dangerous, if not impossible it would be to shift forms with the new restraints. She’d been waiting, holding her ability to shift and shield herself without use of magic as a secret ace for when they dropped their guard. So much for that. Her blind panic and unquestionably immediate need to see her family had killed her very best hope for escape.

There was raw, but rotten, meat thrown on the floor just within her limited grasp. As soon as that fact registered in her mind the world went blank until there was no more of the festering flesh to consume. Idly she wondered what type of meat it had been. It wouldn’t have surprised her if it had been sentient.

She inhaled the stench that remained on her lips and breathe and tried to will herself to be repelled by it. No such luck. If anything the deep inhale made her hungry again. Grimacing she curled up against the cell wall and ran her fingers through her hair.

Something slick touched her fingers so she drew her fingers back, worried there might be a dangerous head wound she’d missed.

In her hand was a clump of her hair still attached to the rotting patch of skin that had been her scalp.

The druid stared in blank disbelief, trying to make the sight in her hand go away… but it remained. Her hand trembled until the matted bloody lump fell away, whole body convulsing in soul wrenching sobs.

How long before she was nothing but a skull?

[Actual Journal Entry]
Triel's Burning Mob & The Second Betrayl

How do I describe what has happened? It has been so hard to cope with. Even now my hands shake so bad I am surprised if anyone can read this. Still it is better I put this to paper in case undeath or death come to me soon.

On what I am now told was the sixth day I was quite broken. I had lost hope, I had lost my fight. I had never wanted to feel the sort of emptiness inside that was caused by knowing you were slowly becoming a nightmare without any ability to stop it. I was nothing but fear and resignation.

When my captors came to me, and yes now I knew they were Zhentarium, I didn’t fight. They changed my bindings so I could be moved. Hobbled my feet, arms tied behind me, mouth gagged. Then they beat me to the ground, commanding me to get to my feet and laughing when I could not. When they got no fight, one of the commanders punched me in the face and held my hair in the other hand so I could not evade the attack. I was dragged to a portal by my hair, vaguely aware of orders and plans .. armies.. dragons.. soldiers prepared.

They had told me my fate moments before binding me. I was to be burned alive as the supposed leader of a band of black orc raiders. I was, if anything, relieved it would be over. I would be happy to die. My hopes of seeing my family - alive or otherwise – was gone. When we stepped out it was into Triel to the jeers and shouts of a mob. I took in my surroundings, noting with a growing horror that the “black orc raiders” were nothing more than huddling females and their cubs. There wasn’t a warrior among the lot of them.

“You were always just a tool” They had said… seems even I had fallen into their trap.

But their trap was more intricate. They had announced my name as the ring leader to lure those who cared for me to Triel. Came they did. Katarina, Valiant, Lady Narasida, Hinzel, Za’than, Thedran… so many.. I could not keep track of them all. I wish I could remember, but most of what I remember is the terrified faces and the shrill screams as mothers and children burned alive. I could not be sure my own family were not in the mass and it make me terror-sick all over again. Eventually someone had a thought to cut my arm bindings and yanked out my gag screaming for people to stop trying to save me and get the cubs free. Only one listened to me. Churlish, the orc I’d met a month ago, ran through the blazing fire and grabbed a singed pup, speeding through the chaos. I hobbled towards the blaze, summoning an elemental and ordering it to grab another of the children. It was the last cub we could rescue before they were too far gone. Churlish came and took this one to a hiding place too.

After that I was grabbed and pulled over Thedran’s shoulder as I screamed and raged and wept. He dropped me outside of the chaos promising he’d deal vengeance for the children and told me to stay out of it. He must have removed my chains because I don’t remember them after that. Not that I remember a whole lot… my elemental guarded me while I went into shock and began weeping uncontrollably. For the children? For my family? For the situation? For my living undeath curse? I do not know. It was all just too much and I wept.

I don’t cry often, but I was too broken to care.

The Zhentarium troops began to send in their reinforcements, along with dragons, retaking Triel and being seen once again as the heroes of the city. Ah yes.. the Zhentarium played their game well. It would be a cold day in hell before Triel would ever help Balder’s Gate or its allies in attacking the Zhentarium.

There was argument over what to do with me. Finally it was decided I would be most safe in Candlekeep and perhaps they could help stop my curse there. When we arrived Teo agreed to let me in but stealthily, with a mask and hood.

He led me into a building and I got confused when he said no one else could come with me. I also started to panic. Wasn’t this what had happened a week ago? He told me I needed to trust him to get better, so I followed, remembering Za’than’s talk of a bath. A bath would be… so much luxury. I could feel like a person again.

He led me to a chamber of cells and my heart hit my rib cage with terror. Teo asked me for information on the curse and then told me I should go into one of the cells. I said no.. he said I must so I ran. But I didn’t run fast enough and as I hit the stairs a tight magical hand fell around me. Then magic drained my body until I could do nothing more than weep and beg for freedom as the Guide dragged me back into the cell. The door slammed behind me as I collapsed in a pile, sobbing.

Dirty.. bruised.. burnt.. hungry.. and right back into the situation I had just left.

I had told him, told him the anti-magic wards would do nothing, that I had been in such for a week. He said it was for my own good but all I could feel was the rising insanity take me and blind fear and agony consumed my mind. Later Ivan and Teo opened the door, shocked when I sped out with an ear piercing air elemental scream.

“Stop her! Calm her down!” The guide screamed as I fled into the wilds.

Everyone was betraying me. Everyone treating me like a tool.

My gods.. I was not safe anywhere.

---------------

I waited until Ivan finished giving the likely report to Thedran before I approached the Radiant Heart’s gates. He looked at my dirty battered form and raised his brow.

“Hello.”
“Hello.”

Simple words, but we are both of simple words. I kept my distance, not sure if I would need to run again… not sure if he would turn me in. But he did not. He scowled on hearing my recounting of what had happened and offered me sanctuary in the orphanage. I hesitated, but then he pointed out at the least I could wash up with the water basin behind the orphanage.

The sisters were kind as ever, lending me clean if ill-fitting clothes and even a pack filled with food. Then… then my children were sent out to me.

Oh gods…

I cannot describe the relief on seeing them alive and well. I wept again, but for once the good kind of weeping, the healing kind.

I spent the night in the stable corner, where if the nightmares took me the only damage would be to the horses… but I awoke to find Kho’gnok had stolen out of the orphanage and curled into the blanket with me. I wanted to be angry, but instead I only hugged him to me.

My children were alive.. and they were safe.

The two rescued orc cubs were also at the orphanage, Kho’gnok had taken to teaching them the way things worked here. He seemed so happy for older orc playmates I didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d be taken to a black orc tribe whenever I could find one.

Still for the time being they are safe here and the Sisters have experience with training orclings to behave. For now I must focus on finding a cure.

Blood Debts & Bazu's Key

The ranger was furious. It bled through his stance, his drawn weapons and his patron beast at his side. “What is the meaning of this?”

Kaltyra frowned, but she had been gorging on meat to keep her curse at bay. Getting to her feet she held up her hands in universal surrender. “No meaning, just a desire to apologize in person.”

The ranger’s grip tightened over his blades as she removed a small wrapped object. “Here is what you seek.” He sheathed one blade just in time to catch the parcel, letting it fall open to reveal his beloved locket.

“Why?” He asked.

“It is was not me. It was not who I am. What I did goes against the standards I set for myself. … I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

His eyes narrowed. “You ripped out my throat, I nearly died if not for Ivan.”

She nodded. “You were goading me, but excuses will do nothing here. Tell me, what price would you ask for the blood-debt I owe you?”

That gave Lambe pause. He thought for a while, some reluctant tension leaking from his shoulders. Finally he spoke. “I have no time for personal things. So I will ask for two for the greater good. First you will hide from Bazu. Second you will tell me everything you know about the Shadow Druids.”

The orcess almost staggered from the panic that welled inside her at the thought of another cage. Her voice trembled as she begged for another price. Whether the ranger accepted or not was never made clear, but he seemed at least interested in helping. She gave him information on the Shadow Druids, easier emotionally but difficult due to distant memory. In hopes to make up the difference, she offered one last peace offering. Just as she was tossing it to Lambe, a troupe of druids appeared. Among then, Tyn, whom had joined in slaughtering Kal recently. Without another word she fled for her life.

……………….

True to his word, Lambe sent Celduil alone to meet with Kaltyra among the Ulcaster Ruins. Secluded, if not especially safe. By now it was not unusual that she would be so jittery.

Thoughts of being held helpless again rippled through her damaged psyche. If the nightmares weren’t enough, if the guilt wasn’t enough, certainly the fear of her condition and the helpless state she’d been forced into was plenty to make her words tremble.

Celduil was… patient. He never would like orcs, not even Kaltyra, but he was one of the few in the Elder Circle who remembered that it was she, not they, who most often answered the land’s call for balance and healing. His respect was one born of debt. She respected him for his honor. After all, he was the only one who cared to keep in mind how unbalanced the scales were between she and the Circle.

So when their talk was interrupted by a dark familiar laugh and a spell of holding clasping around Celduil, the orcess didn’t run away – she ran TOWARDS Bazu, grabbing her ax.

“RUN! Get away!”

“Ng… trying!” Celduil fought against the magical bonds finally breaking free and fleeing.

The orcess was in sheer terror mode, screaming nonsense at the lich’s ghostly form as her ax swung harmlessly through him. Seeing Celduil had escaped she made to follow, but the delay had sealed her own fate.

A bigby’s hand clasped around her body, squeezing with more force than was necessary to keep her in place.

“Stay still Girl” He clenched the magic tighter, holding the orcess fast as she squirmed and writhed in the same rising panic as before.

The lich muttered to himself as he cut her with a knife and bled her into vials. “Yes.. This may be the key. It might just work.”

The orcess’s last shred of sanity stuttered “K.. key? .. f.. for what?”

The Lich’s eyelight’s flared with .. triumph? hatred? as he shouted “MY CHILD!” Then he hit her over the head with his staff, knocking her unconscious.

Kaltyra awoke some time later, expecting to be imprisoned again. However, besides the bruises and wounds from her fight with the lich, a fruitless endeavor meant to distract the creature more than damage Bazu, she seemed fine.

In fact, and here her mind twitched with worry, she felt better than she had in a week. Her mind wasn’t as fogged with sleep deprivation and nutrient deficiency. She could feel ounces of her willpower taking reigns over her emotions. The result was so invigorating she wanted to leap into the air and shout with glee.

That very thought filled her with horror. Was she so far gone now that she enjoyed what was happening to her?

She wasn’t sure, but she did know she should make sure Celduil was alright.

The Happy Reunion & The Sad End of Bazu

Kaltyra flexed her hand, staring at it as if it belonged to a stranger. She wasn’t just healed, she was better than healed. She had to check a water-pool reflection to make sure she hadn’t been transformed twenty years younger than she was. No, there were still the subtle wrinkles and light greying at her roots that she still dyed when she could.

But today… three days after the attack…

She’d awoken to Kho’gnok and Uzik climbing on her. They growled playfully and she wrestled them, indulging in family play time she’d missed for too long. Sister Adonia had come out with Duzun in her arms and Kaltyra had taken time to feed her young baby boy. Then it had been “puppy rides” for all the orphans who found Kaltyra’s glossy white coat beautiful. She’d helped their fall garden grow and prosper then called the day a success with a final few hours with her children.

When she’d laid down, certain on an exhausted good sleep, a figure with a familiar smell slipped in beside her, knelt and kissed her on the cheek. Grubnar. Suddenly she wasn’t much tired anymore. They’d taken time as any couple might to reacquaint themselves with each other. Slowly and gently at first, giving her time to heal. Then Kaltyra surprised herself a few more times before she’d passed out on top of him, much to her morning embarrassment.

Well, not too much embarrassment given the love-filled kiss that greeted her on waking. It was much later before the sisters allowed the children near the “stable filled with angry animals”.

Throughout her life as a runt Kaltyra had suffered many minor troubles to her body that had not healed entirely properly. The index finger that healed crooked. Her missing toe. The ache in her hip. All of these were gone. She felt amazing!

Added to the physical healing there was the giddy euphoria of knowing the Undeath Curse no longer loomed over her. That new lease on life was better than any drug Kaltyra had ever experienced.

Everything about life was looking up.

Heck it made facing down a 2000 year-old lich seem like a walk in the park.


-------------------------------------

[The remaining is a written journal entry]

Bazu chuckled “Let me thank you from the bottom of my heart, Kaltyra. Thanks to your defect I’ve finally found the cure.”

We kept him monologuing. It was the only plan I could think of. Each slip gave us a hint towards how to defeat him after all. Bazu revealed that the rings he’d planted all over where indeed magical Trojan horses, designed to infect the users with variations of his Undeath Curse in order to find some mysterious component for his “rebirth” spell to turn his children into living undead.

Yes he had used my blood and there’d been some ‘defect’ in mine that was the mysterious final ingredient he needed. Teo’s ploy to hide me in Candlekeep would not have worked. All those rings horded into Candlekeep were Trojan horses in another way, acting as a second attack on the wards in Candlekeep, making Bazu able to break through their wards if he’d wanted to.

A clever lich.

As we kept him talking there was an explosion in the Vault, which we would later learn of, and during that time Bazu’s projection suddenly went idle as the lich was distracted. I wanted to touch it to see if we could scry the lich… but Thedran insisted on touching instead.

It turned out to be... a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because the ensuing chaos and mouth-frothing revealed that Thedran was not Thedran, but a corpse turned to look and think like him.. an undead. The real Thedran remained locked in Bazu’s cells. Rock, as I called the creature, was absolutely mournful at the revelation. The first thing he did was drop the sword that should only be held by Decent Men. I took it up.. perhaps that was a breaking of the sword’s use I don’t know, but I wasn’t going to leave it on the ground.

Then Rock tried to bite off his finger to get rid of the signet ring, the special one that meant much to him. Poor creature. He wept for what Thedran would do to him. All the same he willingly marched with us to the Vault. If there was an explosion, then Bazu was weakened and now was the time to strike.

Boogie, a bugbear I had heard of but never met, guided our band to the vault. There we saw new wards. Rock could walk through because he was undead. I took his hand and because he was touching me I was able to be moved past the wards as well. We all passed through the wards thanks singularly to Rock’s bravery.

As we entered, Rock looked back longingly towards the entrance wanting, I know, to escape, to find freedom… but there would be no freedom for a creature that hated itself for what it was. Still, I took pity on it and offered it, him, a chance to run. “You could leave now if you wanted” I offered.

He turned to me, eyes firm and said softly “Decent men have no choice.”

It was not ten minutes later he sacrificed himself to ruin the last of Bazu’s external power crystals. He looked to me and whispered “I’m sorry.” before destroying it and being destroyed in the process.

I wanted to weep. I wanted to cry out. Not just because it was the creature that had watched over me and given me kindness over the past week. Not just because it was clear to me Thedran was a part of him. But also because it was the sort of terrifying fate I’d feared for myself. I’d been afraid I would not have had the strength of will to destroy myself if I’d become full undead… but Rock had.

Later I will mourn Rock.

For now, let my words on this paper serve as testimony to the simulacrum who never wished to be. He who was a spy and a slave to Bazu, but who fought Bazu at every step and never wanted anything more than to BE Thedran and to hold to his principles.

We fought through scores of undead as I honed my sorrow into raging anger. Finally we reached Thedran’s cell.

As I tended to the poor starved man a ghost woman appeared. It was Bazu’s wife, pleading for help in stopping Bazu from turning their final child into a living undead. In her current state the woman was bound to a limited area, but Katarina offered her body up for possession so that the mother might find and rescue her children.

Here we met up with reinforcements, which was good because there were quite a few dangers before we reached Bazu’s inner sanctum.

. . .

What to say here?

Perhaps it makes me a poor druid to feel sorrow for a lich.

The wife / Katarina approached Bazu while we were held off by inner wardings. She pled her case, begging Bazu that their family was never meant to be like this. That their final living son, in stasis for his deadly disease, didn’t want to exist as undead. That they all deserved to rest in peace.

It was her tears that finally broke through the lich’s one-track fanaticism. He dropped the vial of “cure” and allowed his son to come out of stasis and, in moments, gasp his final breaths before dying. Bazu turned and after saying an unapologetic farewell speech, allowed himself to die as well. Only his wedding ring remained, clinking to the ground. Final testament to his one purpose.

The wife released her grip on Katarina and gave her thanks before also passing on to life beyond.

It was not the slash and dice, holy fury ending most there would have liked, but for me it was much more powerful. It is a question we all must ask ourselves: for those we love, where is the line that tells us “no further”?

For all my terror and fury at the lich, it was still I who picked up his wedding ring to see it buried. (Consecrated ground, please I’m not stupid). Family is very important to me… and I think many of the others would have considered it just something to vent their frustrations at since they had nothing to make bleed and scream.

I hate the lich for what he has done, for all the sadness and terror and undeath he wrought.

But I pity the father who was desperate to find a way to save his child.

I will celebrate the lich’s destruction. I will mourn the man.

Perhaps it makes me a poor druid. Perhaps my recent experiences have made me soft. Perhaps I am only now understanding certain things about life.

Goodbye Rock. Goodbye Bazu. Rest eternally.

Land, rejoice that balance has been restored.