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

We are who we choose to be. A wonderful thought, isn't it? Makes one feel like we have control, maybe even power.

I don't know how old I was when I was pulled off the streets in Amn. Maybe eight, nine... possibly ten, older even? And I wasn't the only one, there were several of us. None of us knew what was happening, none of us wanted to be there, but we were. We were cheaply fed, clothed, equipped, and named. All of us treated like animals, because that's all we were to them. We were to listen, watch, occasionally retrieve, and, though not as often, kill. For what? We got to live.

After they had us, there is only one thing I remember for the years I served them. They took us into a dimly lit room, letting us choose which weapon we wanted. It was the only choice I made in all those years. Of course, the choice was limited. You could have a club, a dagger, or if you were large enough to conceal it, they might let you have a shortsword. I hated them all. The club was cheap and clumsy. The dagger and shortsword? Brittle to the point where if you stabbed something any harder than bone, it would snap the tip off. I chose the shortsword, but vowed I'd get a new weapon someday.

The opportunity came from my first target. I don't remember the man. His face, his height, his age... all are lost in the fog of my memory. All I remember is killing him, untrained as I was, and noticing his blade, still in it's sheath. The second I saw it, I was intrigued, and I took it, getting rid of the shortsword as soon as I was far enough away from the scene. The blade was larger than the shortsword, it's gentle curve fit me perfectly. The handle, wrapped neatly in black cloth, offered a grip better than anything I'd felt. I later named it Witness, because it is all that has seen what I have seen.

I'd guess I was about sixteen when I escaped. I was sent out to retrieve one of us who had tried, but when I caught him, he asked me a question. Well, really two.

"Why take me back? We're both free, why not run?"

When I hesitated, he took that moment to attack. Witness saw that one too. I don't remember his face, but his voice and questions ring clearly in my mind. And so I ran.

I reached Neverwinter, staying to the shadows, trying to avoid any who may be sent for me. Spent my time learning to fit in, read, write... and fight. Sure, I thought of forgetting what I'd done, only to realize I couldn't remember much of it anyways. When I looked at Witness, I couldn't leave it. If it was everything we'd been through, or that it was simply all I had, I don't know. Then I started seeing people I somehow recognized.

I didn't know their names, but I knew I'd seen them. I tried to avoid them, but one can't stay away forever. Eventually, two of them caught up with me, and I did the only thing I could think of. I asked them those two questions, and they hesitated. My only friend saw those as well. And I left again, in some direction, on some road.

Did I get to choose who I was, or did it get forced upon me? Guess it doesn't matter now.

Baldur's Gate. Seemed safe enough, at least considering where I'd been. Looks can be decieving I guess.

As I got close to the city, an elf passed by me on the road. I'd never seen an elf, and I stopped, watching her. Noticing this, she stopped and stared back for a bit, before asking if I had a problem. We got to talking, and she seemed to be sizing me up... I asked what she thought. She responded "Harmless." Like I said, looks can be decieving.

My name is Jake (short for Jacob), though I have adopted an old name I went by, Cull. My very name itself loosely means "he decieves."

She started coming closer to me, her weapons drawn. I warned her to stop. She tested me, I responded by drawing Witness, stopping her. Suddenly curious, she put her weapons down, and started whispering... I don't know why, but I set Witness aside.

Her words, her actions... everything changed. No longer seeming a threat, she became friendly. Too friendly, and I started telling her whatever she asked. My history, where I'd been, any secret she asked. Until she asked my name. This got me wary once more, hadn't she approached first with weapons drawn? I began telling only half the story from there on.

Angered by this, she drew her blade once more, saying in an emotionless voice, "Your vagueness displeases my goddess, Shar." and began advancing, a murderous look in her eyes. Witness struck first, downing her before her blade began its decent.

I will not drop my guard so easily again.

I wanted information, but the local taverns weren't as busy as I had expected. Instead, everyone seemed to gather in some merchant camp outside of town.

The moment I sat down, I knew I wouldn't get much of what I wanted. It was all small talk... all of it except some stupid elf who wouldn't shut his mouth. Some people's voice just grates on your nerves, you know? I couldn't stand this one. So, I decided to fix this little problem, and walked behind him, wrapping a gag around his mouth.

Unfortunately, the gag didn't hold, but he made a mistake. He spun, dagger in hand, glaring at me. Everyone's actions stopped, and they kept looking between the two of us. I hate being the center of attention. He started to threaten. Something about killing me in my sleep. He's a fool. If anyone did any killing in any person's sleep, it would be me. Seeing I cared little for his words, he attacked. His third mistake.

I prefer fighting from the shadows. I've always used them, always felt at home there, but that doesn't mean I can't kill some elf in the open. This time, my blade wasn't the only witness, but it didn't matter. He swung first.

Are all elves like this? That's the first two I've seen, in two days. And both are dead.

//I forgot to mention, please keep in mind anything I put here is OOC. You don't know it in game unless I tell you.

Manners are something I never truly understood. I was given stale bread, and raw meat. I didn't know how to cook, and was often starving, so I ate what I got. Neither of those really tastes good, so I got used to shoving it down as quickly as possible, not noticing the taste. But I never realized others found this offensive.

We'd just finished culling the local goblin population, and went to the Burning Wizard for a drink. I pulled out my meat and bread, and the person next to me pulled out a cookie. Going to my more-savage way of eating, she stared at me, almost seeming shocked. The blood ran down my chin, but I didn't notice, nor know what the napkins in front of me were for, so I used my sleeve. Then came the questions.

"Do you... always... eat your meat raw?"

"Don't know how to cook."

"Would you like me to show you?"

All I could do was shrug. What's the difference, anyways? They told me it would taste better... but I hadn't ever eaten food for taste. Then they talked about diseases carried by raw meat. I've eaten raw meat from a very young age, and have no disease I'm aware of. So, I finished off that piece of meat, pulling out a second one raw. And the first bite sprayed blood on her cookie.

"That's it, we're cooking that meat." Her face flushed with anger as she snatched the meat in front of me.

"I..." Never know what someone could put in your food, so I followed her.

I watched carefully as she put the meat on a spit, and rotated it over the fire. Then she handed me the meat, on a plate with a fork and knife, and we returned to our table. I picked up the meat in one hand as she watched, and started eating the same way as before, not tasting any of it.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat, and I ignored her.

"USE THE UTENSILS OR I'LL SHOVE FOOD DOWN YOUR THROAT ALL NIGHT UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND!"

Startled at the sudden change in character, I looked down at the utensils and picked up the knife, stabbing the meat and lifting the entire chunk up to my mouth.

"Nope."

Pulling out the knife, I tried the same with the fork.

"Nope. Here, I'll show you."

By this time, she was more than just frustrated, but I watched carefully anyways. It'll help me attract less attention anyways, I don't exactly enjoy being the center of everyone's focus. So I started using the utensils, eating slower, which forced me to taste what I was eating. She was still mad about the cookie, so I pulled out the loaf of stale bread I had in my pack and offered it to her, but this only served to get her more angry, saying they weren't the same. I've never had a cookie, how would I know? It looks like a smaller piece of bread.

"Would you like me to cook you a meal?" The man in our group asked her. And when she responded, he went to the back, and came back while the chef watched it cooking. Then he picked up the loaves of bread on the table and threw them into the fire. I didn't understand why myself, it was food, but everyone else seemed pleased it had happened, so I didn't say much. Then came the meal. And I don't know what it was.

"There you are, enjoy, and try to eat like she does...ish." The man smirked, obviously finding amusement in my lack of knowledge in this area. I'd like to see him in my former position, then he might understand. "You are an odd man, I can only imagine where you learned to eat not... proper food."

I wouldn't tell him too much. "Live on the streets, eat what you get."

So we started eating... but there was something about the way the woman ate that I couldn't... maybe wouldn't follow. It was too proper, too "lady-like." And I lacked finess with the utensils anyways, so I ate with a bit more brutality, though, much more politely than before. It forced me to taste this as well, and while it tasted good, I guess it just wasn't something I'm accustomed to.

"At least he's learning." The man said, and then he went to get rooms at Feldeposts for all of us. Which I wouldn't refuse. It's his money, better his than mine.

At least now I won't stick out so much when I'm eating, but I doubt these two will forget about this.

"Eighteen thousand." The man said, as I examined the blade. It was a fine work of art... obviously higher quality than Witness, though I was loath to admit it. The materials, the craftsmanship, and the sharpness of the blade were almost unmatched by anything I'd seen.

A pang of guilt shot through me as I considered the price. My gaze lowered to the blade that I'd been through so much with on my left. How many years had it brought me through everything? Been the only thing I could trust? Though I couldn't shake the feelings, I needed a new blade.

"Eighteen thousand for that? Hah. For something like that, I wouldn't pay more than fifteen thousand."

"I can do fifteen thousand." Came the quick reply. And I was taken aback. I'd expected a harsh counter-offer, after-which the normal haggling banter would occur. I handed over the gold, chagrinned at the possibility of having been able to get a lower price. As the blade was dropped into my hands, and the merchant and I parted ways, I simply stared at Witness, strapped to my left side. And placed this new blade above it, unwilling... perhaps unable to remove my old steel. At least just yet.