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

Cold winds blow whispers of seduction, enticing those who revel in wickedness, that lay traps for the naive, the opportunists who make the darkness their home. A recruitment has commenced—wizards, death dealers, snipers, black warriors, etc. are all summoned to push back the light as it must be done.

The wind passes on this message:

Hear my song, hear my embrace.

To all who service the power within the darkness, that would take from those that will never understand how to rightly wield power, and it's value over life...it is now a moment of weakness for those that follow the light, and our time to enact a controlling hand.

Yes...The Time Has Come.

Cast off your seclusion, my friends, rally. Let us meet outside the watchful eyes of the "lords" of this land...and extinguish the light that now builds within the walls of the city called the Gate. The weakening of trade along the Coast has allowed the strength of our Gods to grow, as deeds done in the dark are embraced by more souls each day, each night...the souls of men will feed upon the unending power that trickles steadily from the darkness. The names of our Gods are now common upon the lips of both the common man as well as the noble...for they know our true Lords will answer them, and grant them their true desires.

The opening of trade cannot succeed.

I do not speak falsehoods. Your actions will make our Gods even greater, in this dangerous moment of calling. Expect the greatest examples of light bringers to rain there falsehoods upon your kin. As such, those of the black arts, the commanders of death, the necromancers and thieves...all that make their own judgements over life and death...your unique talents will make the difference between success or failure of the darkness....find your way into the hearts and minds of the naive believers of the falsehood of goodness, subvert from within and distrupt whatever plans are laid to commence this opening of trade. Watch how easily those who proclaim positive faith crumble when you untie the thin strings that bind them to each other. There is no greater pleasure than to break a golden spirit. Plant seeds of chaos subtlly, and watch the black vines choke the innocent from within their own minds.

You need not sign paper, nor make yourself known to any one until the time is right...for your security lies with your faith in the dark lords, and the faith within your own might...divulge nothing, yet command everything.

No mercy.

The wind subsides with a slow, cold fade...as the message has been delivered.


/// An event can occur on Sunday, June 24 at 8 p.m. EST. ///

The cold wind is slightly warmed, and returns with bolstering words....

Those of the light cannot kill what they can't find. They cannot resist what corrupts from inside. No magic, no might and no will exists without a weakness.

Seek the weakness in their hearts through covert observance...walk in the light as if it becomes you, but hold the dark shadows steadfast in your soul. Just as the mole treads unstopped through the withering fields steadily feeding himself from the sowed land, so shall we devour what attempts to grow.

Find the guide of the light, and remove his hands. Let them suffer as they would wish...but under the pain given in the name of our true lords.

When that day comes, our Gods will reward us.

To those that have cracked the doors open at the midnight hour, the cold wind brings word:

Their numbers are known, and names have been taken.

While the light bringers dance in naive victory over inconsequential gain, it is so easy to enter their abandoned homes, begin to poison their families and defile their sanctuaries. When they return to lay down their heads for rest, only dreams of torment will come, for they know there is no longer any safe haven.

These so-called light bringers only fancy an ebullience of ego...watch them dance...let that be their downfall into decrepitude.

A dove sits upon the ground, on a road near Baldur's Gate, pecking and sifting through the dust for any morsel of grain or leaf that might satisfy it's racing metabolism. So beautiful, the unyielding persistance to live, even against the odds in such a season as this famine has delivered to the Coast. Peck and sift, peck and sift it goes. It is in this moment of the daily ritual that the universe shifts slightly on this dirt covered path, and the lone dove freezes.

A front of air swells from the north-west, fueled with a biting crisp chill, and the dove instinctually launches into the air, pointing to the sky in a plight for escape...but the current of chilling death is faster, overcoming the bird with a crystal freeze as an unimaginable number of invisible molecules surround and envelope the brave but failing dove.

Feathers rapidly wet then solidify as the cold, born on the wind, bites deep into the dove, disabling it's abilities, turning it's flight of freedom into a downward spiral with frost laden wings. The dove, now paralyzed, crashes hard and fast into the earth, it's appendages slowly and ever increasingly covered with a growing ice, as the cold winds increase and rage through this corner of the Sword Coast.

With a dead thump it lands, bones shatter along with the unnaturally formed ice that has nearly encased the entirety of the dove's body, and as it lays there dying, alone ina pool of fractured ice feathers and blood, a reflection in the black eye of bird can be seen off in the distance...

Then the wind passes on, and with it a new message, to those that have attuned their ears:

Peace will not last. It never does. Chaos is the fundamental seed to all that exists, for this is what our Gods know...

...and we must bring that knowledge to bear upon this land. To arms, my brothers and sisters in the darkness, for our Gods walk with us...and together, as one movement, we will snuff out the light.

Again, the weather makes for change, and the silver tongues whispers through the night on a wind meant for ears waiting to receive it—

Do you seek your brothers and sisters of the darkness...

Do the cold winds blow forth, propelling you...yet you are unaware to the direction...

Does your worship of the night bring your power that seeks the moment to be unleashed...

You have only the need to be found, my lovely children of the black. And there are many of you to be found, for your inner voices sing to us in the darkness...and it is time to reach out to your brethren, to be gathered into the fold, where all the Gods and Lords of the darkness move as one to break down the light bringers, crush their bones and consume their spirits...

It is time to feed upon the light. It is time to remove the hands of those that would stop the droughts, the suffering of fertile lands, the burning of trees and the poisoning of blood. It is time to remove their hands....

Here this voice, for on this cold wind many of the darkness speak as one—to be found, a thing must be revealed, just enough out of the darkness, to be seen by your brethen...and when it is known by the seekers that are unleashed into these lands, you will be touched, and welcomed home...

Show wisely and subtly the emblem of the gripping moon upon your person. Ward it, protect it and use it's power...and to others who work within the darkness, it will be magnetic, and a recognition...

Dust is unsettled...window shutters slam against the frame...hat brims turn upward...eyes go dry as it passes...

A cold, whispering wind moves southward along the inland of the Sword Coast, along the bows of docked ships, and into caves where sunlight rarely makes itself known...

The cold whisper speaks softly, to those who let the words move caressingly over them...

Behold children on the night, shadow walkers and commanders of death...the day grows shorter and the dark creeps upon all...

The dark gods call out to you...the lord of darkness, the lord of lies, the lord of the night, the lord of poison, the lord of murder...the dark gods wrap their arms around you, embracing your gifts that you embody through your acts of foulness, cruelty and possession.

Here these words, you who are given might this day to enact your darkest wishes upon the weak, the meek and the self-serving slaves of the light—the dark gods have weakened the lightbringers through months of drought, taken war to their gates and placed poison amongst the friendships that feebly attempted to keep peace...alive...

The darkness now comes in full—and with it cold, wind, rain, storms, blizzards...watch as man, beast and spirit are rendered apart from attacks on all fronts of the imagination.

The dark gods open doors for your power to grow! Look to your black soul bretheren! Smile fiercely at what death will bring to all that oppose your Lords...once you bring death to those that stand for the light, for those that wish stability, for those that call out "Prosperity" when in actuality bring servantdom to any who does not stand strong against these false persuasions...once you bring death to them, you will lay claim to all that remains...and feast you will on the lusciousness of their downfall.

The time is now, you beautiful children of darkness, bring down the lights as soon as they are lit. Extinguish the flames that foolishly attempt to light paths. Block out the sun so that no creature can walk a day without fear. Let that fear be your tool, and those that do not lay down before you, let them be slaughtered....

With a crack of fierceness, the cold whispering wind passes...but while some shiver having felt it's movement and heard nothing, those that do understand the words feel a growing warmth in their blood...and in their black hearts.