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

It was too late to doge, the angle wrong to parry, and his shield was out of position to deflect the blow. A tall, thick orc brought his club down in a mighty overhand swing from behind and Durgan braced his back for the impact. The Dwarf's ears rang and he dropped to one knee as the heavy club connected. The orc's eyes widended in surprise as his great weapon cracked and splintered in his hands. Durgan rolled to his feet and savagely headbutted the orc in his rough iron breasplate, creasing it. He followed with a quick thrust which drove the spiked tip of his axe into the stunned orc's throat. The brute's knees buckled and it dropped wheezing to the earth. Durgan finished it with a quick overhand chop and charged another orc.

Durgan felt good. The familiar weight of his axe and shield and the sound of battle were welcome companions to the brewmaster. He hummed a tune to himself, almost merrily, as he chopped and slashed, bashed and headbutted his way through the squealing and growling orcs until no more stood to face him. Seeing the battle won and the few remaining orcs fleeing into the hills, pursued by fleet-footed elven scouts, he sat on a nearby rock and propped one boot on a severed orc head. He reached around to his small battle-pack and withrew a small keg with roughly carved relifs of mugs, and maidens, and bawdy taverns. Unstoppering it, he took a long draught. He sighed deeply as the pungent ale warmed his throat and bones. Two more draughts and he returned his keg to his pack and began to assist in seeing to the wounded and retrieving the fallen.

Later that evening, after the dwarves and some of the more raucous elves had settled down from their feasting and drinking, it was explained that a small contingent was to remain in the North, to protect the strongholds of the allies while the main body of the force remained south. Seeing the young and, to his eyes, scrawny elves who volunteered to remain behind, Durgan stood up and bellowed.

"Oi... Ye'll be needin sommat t' keep 'em stinkin' arcs from tramplin' th' lads. Ahm fer comin wit' ye." With that, he gathered his traveling pack and his small arsenal of axes and knives and joined the short column of elves moving out of camp. The night was warm and the breeze gentle, as though the forest had no knowledge and took no notice of the preceding day's savagery. Durgan trudged along with the elves, his keen eyes peering inot the night. Watching for movement. Watching for orcs. There was a sound, though not an orc, nor a beast, that the gentle breeze carried to Durgan's ears. He listened, trodding a little more quietly, as a young elven warrior sang. He sang of return, of home, and the sweetly haunting melody softened even Durgans rocky features. The whole column became silent and marched to ethereal wisps of music.



The spell was broken by Durgan's harsh laughter.

"Bwhaahhaahahha! Oi, Lad. At be th' bes' music ah've been 'earin since me pap made a pet o' a lil wyvern fledglin' an taught it 't be singin!" The stout dwarf clapped the startled youn elf on the shoulder, making him stumble and nearly fall.

"Now lad, what ye be needin' is some o' me Marlin Stout! Tis th' best ale yer' t' be faendin on th' Sward Coast!"

Durgan shoved his small unstoppered keg into the young elve's stunned grasp and all but forced the amber liquid down his throat. The elf swallowed convulsively, coughed, then grew suddenly still as his eyes seemed to focus on some unseeable, far-off thing. Durgan caught the fainting elf in one hand and the falling keg of ale in the other and bellowed a great peal of laughter that frightened small forest creatures for miles around. After being thoroughly shushed by the nearby elves in the column, Durgan chuckled, threw the unconscious elf lad over his shouler and continued the treck north, humming a bawdy, off-key drinking song all the while.

It was near dusk as the last of the sun's heat beat down to his shoulders through his armor, he stood straight and firm, knotching 3 arrows and taking aim upon his target. His head still and his arm steady, he let fly the volley. Before the three arrows could strike in succession, he was already on the move, with blinding speed he dropped his bow and pulled forth his short blades from there holsters. As he ran at his next target he disappeared into thin air, reappearing twenty paces away behind the armored target.

His strikes were precise, meant to expose the weakness it's armor. As his newest blade struck the straw beneath the armor a spark flew and the target lit aflame. Laisren began a dance then, twisting and turning, as if parrying blades and striking other targets. He would disappear from vision, only to reappear striking the now blazing target. Suddenly, a large blade not his own appeared swiping across the neck of the target and if not for gifted reflexes, surely would have decapitated Laisren as well.

As the dummy's helmeted head lopped off and began to roll down the hill, Laisren, whose first reaction was to take a defensive posture now saw it's slayer. "You know, you could have killed me with that stroke Mendel", Laisren chided the Villi of Dharasha.

The large copper elf whom stood looking at the head roll down the hill now turned to look at Laisren while sheathing his elven longsword. "You, never......", the large warrior elf smiled to his friend and one time mentor Laisren.

Laisren gave him a stern look. "Tis not if you can Mendel.....", Laisren retorted but without any real conviction, only to respond with the dry humor they tended to throw toward each other these days. "Nice shots", a voice said from the shadows. Laisren knew immediately whom it was. "Mistress", he said as he bowed in the direction of the voice, pretending he knew it's exact location, though he truly did not.

They all stood on the hill south of Gullykin, in a make shift combat range he had constructed for training. Laisren now turned to the north and over there efforts to fortify the Hin village for the coming of the Orc. The grace of the Faernsoura could be seen even these many meters away as they worked to prepare the triage with their counterparts, the Knights of the Silver Rose. He then saw the Villi's men stationed and patrolling the perimeter while his own ambassadors worked with the Mayor to store supplies. Then, he heard it........

It began as a single beat and with it, his heart stopped as if to listen. Then it was joined, and suddenly the cacophony roared threw the wood north of the Village. The his body went cold, as the last of the suns rays fell behind the canyon and all that could be heard was the beating of hundreds, if not thousands of drums. He sighed once, closing his eyes and his chin falling to his chest. He thought of the fire, the only thing that he knew to rise above the fury and his anger returned.......

He looked up to his friend, "Gather the men and prepare the defenses", he said and the Villi smiled with a wicked grin and marched down the hill toward the village. Bestial screams began to ring the forest and red eyes could be seen glowing within the wood. Laisren sheathed his swords, picked up his bow and began moving for the village...........

The siege over, Laisren had forced himself to the point of exhaustion trying to maintain posts and patrols, is now been ordered to the infirmary to rest by Avowed Teo of Candlekeep. His reverie is filled with terrible thoughts and dreams. He wakes, calling for his wife Saline but the Pro-Consul had stayed behind to protect their northern camp.......

--

Scouts returned to Gullykin with grave news. Siege engines and a bridge were under construction which would bring the masses of the black orc army to the walls of gullykin. A sorceror, Jacho Hardwood, hatched a plan to strike at the orcs before the bridge was complete. A small strike force led by Ares Bloodfist surprised the orc sappers, killed them, and set fire to the entire operation. The raiding party withdrew through the wood of sharp teeth toward the friendly arms inn as a ruse to suggest that mountain orcs had been behind the attack.

The black orcs were not fooled. They came en force to the gates of the friendly arm in and sent wave after wave to break upon the rag-tag group of defenders. The fields rand deep with blood and gore throughout the night. Dawn broke to find a column of Flaming Fist soldiers who reinforced the defenders and drove the orcs back into the wood, leaving the defenders to bury their dead, and rebuild the destruction.

Mendel is late to take his post in Gullykin and is nowhere to be found. He was last seen at Nashkel and after that his tracks were lost

As soon as Durin's guard shift is over at the north gate of Gullykin, he can be seen running toward the coast south of candlekeep, muttering something about "clearin' out th' damned baggers so ah kin git t' diggin!"

Laisren having seen Dharasha's top commander miss his last post, begins searching the camp looking for Mendel. Seeing Durin running off and Hoihe looking weary, Laisren stands watch for Madam Luckyfoot but his thoughts keep going back to his trusted friend.

News travels fast and an elven scout finds Durin camped near the collapsed entrance to the old Ironfaar clanhold, pelts of dire badgers and shells of great beetles strewn about in various stages of preparation for selling. Durin is troubled to hear of Mendel's absence and packs his belongings, stashes the beetle shells and badger hides in a nearby sea cave, and heads to nashkel to inquire of his friend's disposition before his next shift on guard duty.

Laisren watches Tan and Durin run by with Hoihe's proclamation of free ale, leaving him the sole person left on guard duty. He shakes his head, "What next?" he asks.

Six hours after Hoihe's announcement of free ale, Durin Ironfaar can see meandering unsteadily about camp with an unconscious half-elf draped across his shoulder. Weving left and right through several sharp and sudden turns that threatened to undo the dwarf's already tenuous balance, he finally comes to rest abruptly in a deep pile of hay with the elf draped across him. Both are soon snoring loudly drawing amused looks and comments from passing hinn.