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

For those that rely in the land, times have never been harder. The shortages caused by the wars have taken to the last grin any reserves the farmers of Baldur’s Gate have managed to set aside. When the much needed rains did not come during the planting season, worry begun…but farmers are made of sturdy stuff, and the crops were planted in hope the growing season would provide the much needed rain. When the rains still did not come, and a drought settled into a famine, the dukes, rather than providing much needed aid, levied new taxes…turning hunger into desperation, and desperation into outright panic.

At the meeting of the minds, when adventures met to discuss what aid they can bring to the people of the gate, Thergal promised his aid in returning life to the fields of the farmers. Now he plans to make good on his word.

He strikes out from his grove, asking all the other druids to join him. He strikes off to the home of the man he befriended in the woods of sharp teeth, spreading word of his intentions to all those that will hear it.

“Show me your fields lads, show me your lands, and how they suffer. I will bring you rain, and bless your fields with life as I am able. Show me the fields of your neighbors, for this blessing I offer to all fairly, and without reservation. No…No I ask no payment or allegiance for this. I simply ask that your tend to your fields as you know how.”

As he arrives at his destination, he approaches the family home where he left the man, and knocks loudly on the door.

The rows of the field rustled with movement. The occasional snapping of a dried stalk followed by the muttering of curses in what could be oddly accented dwarven broke the still, dry air of the early morning.

Indeed, the only thing odder then the unwashed and unhappy dwarf emerging from the barren rows knocking dust off his straw hat was the brown bear standing just as tall that followed him.

"Aye Tho, these be too far gone. They will need to be replanted once a good soaking returns this hard clay to proper soil. Aye, aye...I noticed as well, anything more then a gentle rain will wash away what little topsoil remains. I agree lad, a gentle shower perhaps? It will not give all the water needed, but in this time of nothing, it will be more the enough to allow these fields to begin to recover...the rest will be on the backs of the farmers who use this land. What about the well? You saw it was as dry as well as I..and the brackish slime that I raised would more poison the fields then wet them. No, it think it is a stretch to do so now...even my magics can not raise water when there is none...perhaps after the rains, aye?"

The odd dwarf, as well as the bear he seems to be deep in conversion with settle on top of a small raised berm between two fields. The bear streaches, and lazily lays down, while the dwarf sinks into a cross legged position leaning against the bear, and begins to chant in a odd language, known to only other Druids. He contnues to do so as thin, whispy clouds begin to form over head. As a light rain, the first seen by his land for quite some time begins to fall, the mutterings of the dwarf trail off, and only he raiseing and falling of his chest, and the faint smile forming on his oft dower features betrays his satifacation of a job well done.

When Thergal first arrives in the farmlands, he is treated with a great deal of suspicion. Who is this dwarf who pretends to know anything about what it takes to survive out here? The locals have seen their own way through fire and drought and floods and all manner of hardships (including well-meaning but ignorant do-gooders), long before this one appeared with pretensions of being their saviour.

However, one of the locals pushes through the others and speaks up. He is a known and respected member of the farming community, and he tells of how Thergal the dwarf helped him and his family before, and how he was a lot less scary than the elves who threatened to torture him. The man's firm voice quells the dissent of the crowd, and Thergal is allowed to walk unmolested through their barren fields. The locals keep their distance as Thergal confers with the bear; a sight that would normally be cause for great alarm in these parts.

As the druid begins his ritual and the clouds gather, the peasants have no more skeptical words for him.

As the first raindrop falls, they have no more words at all.

//PM me if you want to do more RP IG around this.