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

*If ever discovered this book seems to be a journal of sorts, indicating past dates and referring to a Zhent by the name of Hand Menomen. It is a leather bound book, smelling heavily of sulfur and ink. The scrip is frantic, a cursive barely legible slanting greatly to the right, but is spaced well. The paper is worn with months of handling and many corners are cropped inward to save important spots as well as the ends of particular chapters*

Entrey One

Genius and insanity work close together as coworkers forcibly crammed into ones cranium; competing violently for its limited space. When one grows up in a city as chaotic as Zhentil Keep, opportunity is cheep and readily available. All one needs is the will enough to reach out and grab it. However, the Baneites, though preserving the world correctly are still a god-fearing people; and fear has no place in the investigative realm of experimentation and wizardry. In order to escape this I ventured to the coast, hoping that by removing myself from the normality of life it would create an anxiety; and provide me a new vestibule. Only to make a brief stop at Water Deep I familiarized myself with the different cultures of the coast, not more than three months passed did I proceeded to the festering stew that is Baldur’s Gate. I use this word not out of premature hatred, but as an observation; you see, Baldur’s Gate is home to the worlds many hypocrites, Dukes pretending to have power, The Fist and their illusion of superiority, and most of all, the Magery and their blind exclusion of entire schools of magic. For all their wisdom, strength and intelligence their flaws should have made this stretch of earth incredibly interesting, a fountain of knowledge, ripe fruit of ready to be plucked and studied. However, I was sorely mistaken. The land is full of liberally minded people, loving one and-other, accepting, caring, none of them are exciting, different or edgy. It is like a vacuum, all of its people are sucked into some mold of everyday normality. Most are morally stuck; not attempting to break their sacred codes of conduct, they become rather… predicable. I being only a wizardry enthusiast had begun my studies in Zhentil Keep in the schools of Illusion and Necromancy. We where taught to experiment, to create new and exciting enchantments, to learn by any means necessary. Armed with only a handful of enchantments, a string of noxious concoctions, and my leather satchel stuffed with the many sharp and dangerous goodies any curious student worth his salt should carry, I set off in this stretch of lame customariness to perhaps grow my power and introduce new thermos of study.

Entrey 2

Four months dragged on, a seemingly endless repetition of fake smiles, waves, nods and meaningless greetings. All so... sterile. Everyone believes they are safe, I cant count the number of times I've witnessed citizens dart off into the woods late at night, headstrong and overwhelmingly foolhardy, with out a care in the world. No worries, no fears, no ambitions.

Until I met a man along the side of the road. Completely destroyed, physically and mentally. Hardly able to keep a coherent sentence. For weeks I goaded his flames, a heart full of hatred and anguish, nothing but brutality and blood on his mind- He was an interesting study, finally someone broke the normality of this dismal existence. He came to call himself Xetav, and regularly reminds you of it. He follows me like a lost soul, he acts as free labor, an eternal guard. IF not for the migraines from his constant babbling and reckless demeanor, I might be able to stand his company.

Entrey Three

The longer I live here, the greater my aspiration grow- the bolder I become. My thoughts retch in my mind, tossing like the sea, Gears beneath the water cock and sputter, bolts inside the gears whine and creek, everything has its place, but here, something is missing... That thing, is fear.

I've developed a plan, too long have I sat around watching this predictable world shuffle by. I escaped Zhentil Keep to remove myself from that very same existence, I will not let it continue here. People must have fear, it is after all the spice of life, the reason we wake up in the morning excited to be alive because we are fully aware of the balances. But here, there is no fear, no chaos, no anarchy... There is no spice. Well I'm going to start a little chaos, a little anarchy, instill a little fear, and everyone will benefit from it.

Entrey Four

My Research has shifted from simple inquires to insightful expeditions, the plan after all calls for a few key ingrediance. Only after shutting myself away for seven long months, dedicated to scrolls, books, pens, ink, maps, archives, and candle light have I begun to understand what pieces I'll need to fit together. I devised a formula and mailed it to a trusted friend of mine, a colleague in alchemy, sealing my research in a red leather satchel branding the front of it with an open hand. He devised something remarkable and wishes to contact me, but due to the nature of his findings he is obliged to speak with me in solitude. Today his scribe visited me with the location of his preference, that being the Sharptooth Woods. An interesting place I had to admit. But as many things, Nothing is quite as easy as you originally anticipate...

These last few days have been nothing but rain and mud. I had hoped to wait out the rain, before treading into Sharpwood after my contact, near the campfire at Baldurs Gate. However, it seemed a group of upstart Lathadrians claimed it First. Here is where I met a man by the name of Randall. A mercenary by trade, a womanizer by style. At first, I had thought him to be another simpleton, nothing more than the scum of reckless stupidity that thrives here at the Gate. I issued him a contract, my Cohort Xetav also issued him a challenge of strength to test his competence. Although he failed miserably at Xetav's hand I have to respect his forward nature and his brutal demeanor, something I've only rarely seen. His wages are usually determined by myself, which I cannot deny is appropriate as the man has likely not seen work in ages.

After a number setbacks, as my blood pressure rose due to the frequency of interruptions, we came across a woman by the name of Nicahh. A woman with a quirky attitude, Xetav seems to appreciate her company and through out our investigation they had plenty to talk about... regarding the dismemberment of bodies and foes alike. Perhaps a candidate for my League, but I'm a bit ahead of myself...

Upon arriving at Sharpwood we came across a small camp located at the mouth of a cavern, my contact was there as well spiked through the chest and burned to a crisp. As my companions sought about dismembering the camp and the orc residence alike, I searched the chard remains and found no sign of my leather satchel or my research.

We pushed into the cavern, obvisouly in search of my documents and likely the set of ingrediance necessary to peruse my ‘plan’. We came to the conclusion that these Orc fools, thick headed in manner as well as in stature, stashed it away. It wasn’t long until I came across one of those Foolhardy upstarts from the Gate, alone in her wanderings here in the Orc’s lair. Curisouly enough she attempted to sell us some merchandise, my companions where full and ready to simply take what she had, I allowed this minor set back if only to return back to our investigation as soon as possible.

After the deed was done we continued into the depths of the Lair. We walked through winding caverns and hollowed rooms of stone and sand with out any trace of my satchel, but out from the darkness came…. an annoyance. A man donned head to toe in plate with the blessing of some useless god’s light floating above his head, a man by the name of Lionel I believe. He claimed to have found my research, I believed him- Like a fool I believed him, though for all of his nosey inquires he did present me with an ancient tome. A book he believed to be my research. I accepted it, and lied to the old fool, it is apparently a book of Necromancia, a bit of light reading I suppose.

He attempted to follow us, however, we managed to give him the slip and left him alone again in those dark halls. We soon came to an opening, a throne room by the looks of things, massive bazaars and statues of orcish legends, it was here that we found my satchel stashed away in shabby cupboard. We made our escape, and I with my research set upon the task to decrypt my friend’s messages, and to push one step closer to my goal.