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

OOC: I've been without my gaming laptop for a few months, and will be getting it back and be in game in about a month. I've been RPing through forums. These are some of my characters chronicles I decided to share with you... the letters are omitted as they are guild eyes only. Zullo is (was) a fairly well known seeker of Candlekeep, and his bio is available. Hope you enjoy!



*letter delivered by courier, arriving with a merchant caravan out of the East*


Letter: Guild Eyes Only


*Zullo seals the scroll and sends his correspondence with a caravan departing for the sword coast; leaving a few extra coin with the courier.

He turns to look over his own caravan:

Two seasoned mercenary warriors, barbarian brothers, wildmen of Rasheman, large men with large curved blades strapped across their backs. Their strange garb attracting considerable attention from the citizens of Arabel, who give them a wide berth.

A fat Cormyrian merchant sits upon the wagon, holding the reigns to two horses who are far from the thoroughbreds he promised. The fat man rubs his hands together, grinning over the great deal he made offering to finance the expedition in exchange for first pick of any valuable treasures they may find, after everyone is paid of course. Zullo may have embellished slightly as to what the caravan was after...

Zullo narrows his eyes at the beautiful red haired bardess who's sticky fingers just gleefully picked the coin purse of an unsuspecting noble. A few whispers from her into the ear of any man whether or nay his wits be dulled by ale is sure to yield anything known. She turns with a grin... quickly changing to a momentary look of shock, then a smirk as she meets Zullo's stare. She taps the noble's shoulder "you dropped this sir."

Zullo's gaze turns to the city gate, and the forest beyond. He strokes his beard thinking of the elven Ranger who awaits them at the edge of the wood. "He will find us upon the road I'm am certain of it," Zullo whispers, puffing on his pipe.

Zullo takes a long puff of his pipe and leans on his staff heavily as he approaches the rear of the wagon. One of the Rasheman warriors helps him up the back of the wagon, and loads the last of the supplies behind him. The fat rogue grabs the reigns and lashes the horses, " yah!" starting the cart forward. The Bardess runs through the crowd, tucking away her newly snatched coin purse, two guardsman push through the crowd in desperate search behind her. She jumps with great distance and agility upon the rear of the wagon next to Zullo. Zullo's hands drift to the symbol of Oghma which hangs from his neck, he whispers a quite prayer as he watches the Rasheman brothers start off alongside the wagon on foot. Sharp eyes watch from the forest in the distance as the party passes through the city gates. *

Three weeks later...

*Zullo dabs a damp cloth to the forehead of the Rasheman warrior, who shivers and sweats beneath the covers. Zullo lifts the dressing on his wound and inspects it. The flesh is black around where the assassins dagger struck, skin hot to the touch. He applies a purple mossy substance and fresh bandaging.

"Much of the poison has been drawn out" he tells the warrior assuredly with a smile. He knows that if the warrior makes it through the night he will survive, though it may be as much as a week or more before he is able to walk, let alone be fit to travel. He knows they cannot afford to wait.

He turns his gaze to the other large Rasheman warrior in the room, the brother, who sits nervously in the corner, chanting in wildman tongue to strange eastern gods for aid and vengence, his eyes desperate when they look to Zullo. As he moves to leave the room, he rests his hand upon the brothers shoulder. "We must depart on the morrow, I paid the barmaid extra to care for your brother until our return. What we see now will be the worst of it."



Zullo returns to his quarters, knowing there is no small chance he may yet have to deal with a raging and vengeful barbarian before morning should the injured man pass. The potentially fatal wound was received in place of its real target, the wizard knew this well. He locks the door upon entering. Standing over a small table next to a small but roaring fireplace in his inn room in the Moonsheas. He slides a 3 candled candelabria along the tabletop to better shed light as he flattens out a piece of parchment and lifts his quill. The man pauses for a moment, taking out a long curved wooden pipe and lighting it, taking a few draws to calm himself.

Laughter from the bardess traveling with the party erupts from downstairs. "Lascivious woman" Zullo mutters... probably getting drinks bought for herself and the fat rogue, from some sorry miner or farmer who should be purchasing food for his family or seed for his fields.

The old wizard settles into his chair near the fire, wrapping himself tightly within his robes. A cold night in the Moonsheas. He dabs his quill into ink and begins writing.*




Letter: Guild Eyes Only.

----
*The wizard rubs his temples as the feverish warrior cries out from the room down the hall. he dabs his quill again and continues.*
----

More omitted writing


*He seals the scroll hastily, shrinks it and wards it. Zullo lifts a tablecloth from a wooden birdcage, several pigeons within. He picks one out and attaches the small scroll to its talon, shuffles to the window and releases it. Something crashes down the hall and there is yelling.
A knock on the door "Zullo?" the sharp voice of the elven ranger "we need you out here."
Zullo takes a deep breath as he puffs on his pipe. Holding out his hand the staff leaning against the corner lifts from the wall and shoots into his grasp.

He grabs a potion, bursts out the door, and starts down the hall more spryly than most would think capable. The elven ranger retreats swiftly to let him pass.

The fat rogue comes up the stairs behind the elf and whispers to him pointing to the small vial in the wizards hand.

"A cure?" The fat man inquires

"A sedative!" Zullo snaps back.

"Is that wise?" the elf inquires, raising an eyebrow from beneath his hood "I would think the lad need his strength."

"Its for the other one." Zullo retorts, disappearing down the hall.

The elf sighs and starts down the hall after Zullo, pulling aside the folds of his cloak revealing a pair of well crafted elven short swords at his side. The fat rogue quietly descends down the stairs, grinning as he nears the bottom rejoining in the merriment.