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

((Quick intro: I was persuaded to try an publicise a few more of Tamara’s songs, and figured I might as well post the biography I wrote for her eight months ago. None of the pictures found here belongs to me, they were found using Google, the link refers to their original location and/or owner. Feedback is appreciated =))

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Name: Tamara
Nicknames: Songbird, Pretty bird, Morning dove, the little orchid girl
Profession: Minstrel, performer, beggar.
Home: Living in the slums of Baldur’s Gate
Second home: Room 2 in the Friendly Arm Inn
Tamara is a little over fourteen years of age and was born into the slums of Baldur’s Gate. At an early age she was abandoned by her parents, of whom she has no recollection. She’s been blind since birth, never having seen a thing in the world around her with her own eyes. To make up for her lack of visual sight, her mind has always been teeming with impressions, and letting her imagination run wild is a favourite pastime of hers which she often indulges in. She doesn’t perceive the world in the same way as you and I, but she does perceive the same world as you and I. Despite all odds, she managed to survive due to the Sanctuary of Ilmater, begging in the streets she knew to be less trafficked by the Fists, and performing services she’s none too fond to admit to.

She doesn’t know how she came into the possession of one of her most prized objects, a little ivory white flute made out of bone and its black leather holster that bears an almost childish resemblance to a mini-dagger sheath which she always carry close to her person at all times. Especially when she plays on the flute she’s prone to disappear into her own little world as her soul pours into the music.

She's had a few run ins with the Fists in her past and even served time in the gaol when they found her begging or sleeping on the streets of the Palace district, or performing various confidence games.

She’s kind hearted by nature and very easy going on the surface. She’s learned long ago that her social skills is the best way for her to survive. She’s not proud of her past, but has finally managed to give up both begging and her service of the upper class, by performing around the camp fire outside the bridge near Baldur’s Gate and in recent times more often than not in the Friendly Arm Inn, surviving on donations of wealthy adventurers and merchants who enjoy her music.
She’s always been light spirited, even when things looks the darkest she tries to be full of an almost infectious energy and passion for life. She’s come to turn with being blind at a very early age; but determined as she is she’s always struggled never to let it hinder her.


- Veteran of the Bhaal war/Siege.

So much have happened over the past year, I’ve met hundreds if not thousands of new voices; sharing their past and life experience with me either by the cosy flames of the camp fire south of the Gate or inside the comfortable Friendly Arm Inn. It’s been a wondrous time when reflecting, despite the dark moments that’s plagued my reality and haunted my dreams. A bit ironic perhaps, that I’ve recently taken up room inside the place that’s caused the most nightmares in my life?

I won’t dwell on that now though, I’ve made some friends amongst the adventurous population of the Gate and I relish in their company. All the stories they can tell me of their exploits or news from afar truly enriches my own life beyond anything I had ever imagined not a year ago. I’ve met more than my memory can keep up with, but some have grown closer than others.

Leonia is my dearest friend, she’s a shy little thing but her heart beats louder than any drum I’ve heard in my time as a minstrel. She’s the type you just want to drown in a big relentless hug that never ends; unfortunately it does end now and then, but I just look forward to the next one. She’s been kind to me and I can’t help but wish her the best.

Randall and Gareut where the two first to come into my life. Back in the days they were close as your index- and middle finger. Where I heard one, the other always was. I don’t know what happened on that trip to Waterdeep, but I know they’ve grown more distant ever since. Yet I always have considered them close, family even; like two unruly kid brothers that needed a proper slap in the right direction.

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A word of advice I always try to speak on to my friends, and I hope they’ve taken to heart:

I attended my third wedding of this year, either I know too many people or a Sunite has spiked the water with something.

A beautiful sermon between Randall and Marjolaine, inadvertently spoiled by a clouded mind of a judgemental father who had sold his soul in exchange for the demonic power to foil the wedding. He attempted to kill Randall from what I gather, but Marjolaine stepped in and took the full blast to save her beloved. It’ll be a tale that’ll echo into history for ages to come, of the Beautiful Marjolaine and the Beast... As much as my tears flow freely, and sorrow ensnares my heart I do not wish to make a contribution to the cause she died for that captures the essence of sorrow or grief, she was a Joy bringer in life and she’ll be honoured as one in death if I have a say in the matter.

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I'm trying to think back and remember the happy couple, at least one of them has been a friendly voice for this past year I've heard much from... Who knows, mayby I'll get to hear more from her husband in the times to come?

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This was... awkward to say the least. I met one of my old customers recently, boy was that embarrassing... for both of us. He spoke about it right there in the middle of the Friendly Arm Inn, I was about to go bright red but I knew that would only make it sound even worse! Although at second thought I’m not sure if it can get much worse, but still.

I just kept my smile up and tried to chit chat a bit as if it was nothing, brushing his rather clumsily hidden comments aside. He truly seemed to repent, I suppose it’s some sense of moral that must’ve haunted him for the past few years. He offered me gold, horses, you name it. Even a house!
All that made me do was making me miss my home in the Gate. I know it’s not much, but it’s still home. I really should visit soon....

As for the man? Back then I was cold and hungry, he paid me enough coin for me to make it through another week in my life. Do I blame him? No... No I don't.

*A voice too soft and innocent to bear the eerie tunes lifts in the dark of night, singing long and melancholic songs in the Infirmary of Candlekeep during the nights of the past few months. One of many goes like this*:

((never actually thought it would happen, but now that Tamara has acquired the means to do so she'll be trying to keep a journal - let's see how this turns out =))

After having informed one of her contacts that she'd very much like to be on the first patrol or caravan back to the Gate the young girl storms off as quickly as her feet can find their way, unable to hide the moist rimming those sickly-grey eyes. Back up in the Friendly Arm Inn in her room she's burying her face in the pillow as the events of the day plays out in the back of her mind, no matter how much she tries to push them aside they keep encroaching on her conscious mind... they seem somehow important to her, all-encompassing and looming over her.

After more than an hour of struggling with the troubling thoughts, she finally composes herself and leaves the sheets, along with two wet stains on the pillow that's served for comfort. Slowly the young woman starts searching under the bed for some newly acquired effects.

Sitting at the small desk in a corner with several pieces of cardboard thick tablets and a long elegant stylus, she starts jotting down her thoughts on paper... or a more correct term might be dotting it down, instead of writing letters she gingerly presses the sharp end of the stylus against the upper left corner of the tablet, producing a series of small dots.

Written in Braille:

• "First day out alone, since the event"
• "Felt a bit scared.. really scared, actually"
• "Not sure I can play there again anytime soon"
• "Either my lute play isn't what it used to, or people have grown meaner around here"
• "I miss my old friends... I miss believing in myself... most of all, I miss feeling useful, I feel like a third leg to all my new friends."
• "Maybe it was wrong to try this alone"

Letting out an audible sigh as her petite fingers run over the six lines, those few words having taken the better part of the night to put down. Deep down in her heart, she wanted to put so much more down in the written word… but she couldn’t, she neither had the words or the dots sufficient to write how much she felt for those new friends that had saved her life.

Of Louise and her generous heart that competed with the sun to shine the warmest.
Of Merielle, who had travelled such a long way to visit, a face from a distant past that awoke so many fond memories.
Of Emrys the troubled boy she’d known for years on end and come to care for deeply.
Of Peli, her secret winged friend that had made a dream come true.
Of…

A knock on the door interrupted her line of thought, there was so many others, so many she wanted to dedicate a bit of her time to explaining her feelings and thoughts for… but with a knock, it all seemed so distant.
“Miss Tamara? We’re leaving within the hour if you want to come along.”

The trip home was long and lonely, and though her lute never stopped playing throughout the length of the trip, only one quiet little song escaped her lips as she sat on the back of the wagon making its way to the Gate.

Letting herself fall down atop her makeshift bed in the Sanctuary, the little Bardess shifts to pull out yet another tablet and her stylus – trying to figure out how to begin explaining all those swirling emotions that toiled within her mind, as she focuses on her thoughts.



My thoughts keep careening back to those fateful days, when my tormentor was a consistent shadow lurking both inside and outside my mind. It was a prison, as much made out of physical bars as out of fear. My prison, for what seemed like an eternity, not the kind of eternity that only really lasted for a few minutes or an hour, but one that truly lasted for the better part of my youth.

But just as the shadow that is Amarant came into my life, and left a gaping wound in my soul which I truly fear will never be cleansed, a light has come into it as well. Mending the wound and stemming the constant flow of darkness that leaked out. I’ll always carry the scar from that wound, but every time I think of it, I cannot help but think of Louise.

She held my hand when everyone else thought I was so far gone I would never return to the world of the conscious. She never rose her voice in anger, when I was still struggling against the chains of my mental prison… no matter how impossible the task was, she stayed with me, sang songs of comfort and held me tight when all seemed lost.




The young girl lets out a sigh, turning her attention back to the tablet. She’s already made a few dots, but even before running her slender fingers over them she knows they won’t ever suffice to explain what she truly feels for this woman that’s given so much of herself, to help her.

”⠇⠕⠥⠊⠎⠑ -⠊⠎- ⠝⠊⠉⠑”


((on popular demand, I've actually started writing Tamara's journal in Braillie using Unicode characters, unfortunately it's really difficult to see the spaces between words so I've decided to put in a - to make it more easy, untill I find something better. ))