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

Word gets around, originating from the temple that Sister Merielle will hand out some of her famous honey cakes for those willing to write stories for the children. Fliers handed out from the temple ask that those interested bring the tales to the temple. They will be reviewed by Meri.

Those who cannot write are free to tell the stories to Anne ((Orphanage NPC, helps with younger children)), who will be found at the temple in the evenings, and she will write them down for you.

Honey cakes will be handed out in the evenings, from the temple after evening meals so as not to spoil intake of a proper healthy diet. If you find yourself short of actual food, please see the temple kitchens. It is unwise to subsist one's diet of honey cakes alone.

((OOC NOTES:

This is an undertaking of my own. It isn't a competition per se, something to add to the RP value, the DMs are not expected to pick up on this, but can if they so choose. THIS IS FOR FUN! Player driven.

Honey cakes cast Bless on consumption! Many Many Many thanks goes to DM Lyrewyn for the nifty RP item!

It would be great to have 'books' and 'stories' to fill the Orphanage bookshelves! This thread will serve that purpose.

Basic rules:

1) No plagiarism! I can see stories submitted based very loosely on RL fairytales, fables, stories ect... However, I would prefer original works. Forgotten Realms equivalents are good, just make sure what you are doing isn't copyright infringement, especially since this is just for fun and no one wants headaches.

2) Must be Server rating and appropriate for the -intended- audience. This means submissions must be in accordance to Server Rating of PG-13, Appropriate for the orphans at the orphanage (age range 4-14 yrs) and will have to be approved by the Saint... so bear that all in mind. Must be setting appropriate, this means it fits both the time, and the lore of the Forgotten Realms up to the year 1348 DR (current Year).

4) Please put all submissions in this thread prior to approaching Meri IG so I/Meri can read them. ((Leave character name, player log in name with submitted story. If alias is used please supply it so I don't have to look at the floating name tag, I only need this OOC info to make sure I reward the right character for the right story)) RP please, leaving it at the temple, or 'telling it to Anne' so she can write it down. One honey cake per story upon Meri's review. Honey Cakes to be received IG.

Logically this means characters that have tried to kill Meri or the 'good guys' aren't likely to feasibly be able to participate unless they have a good disguise/alias. This also includes characters banished from the Gate. I won't disallow entries as I know this -is- for fun. Just bear in mind that sneaking into the city for a honey cake may come with consequences. This is an RP venture after all.

Unfortunately... Drow, Balors, Bhaalists, Demons, Creatures that are likely to eat Meri or kill her or similar things likely to be killed within the city of Baldur's Gate ... will find it nearly impossible to participate and survive and get a honey cake.

5) Please no attempts to harm NPCs without DM approval first. Bear in mind that Ilmatari NPCs are traveling escorted at present

6) Finally, please keep OOC stuff to a minimum. No Flaming or Trolling, inflammatory posts, and posts that do not follow forum posting rules will be deleted or edited. All OOC queries can be handled Via PM. Please try not to clog the thread with OOC remarks.

7) and Most importantly: HAVE FUN!))

/// Kaltyra visits with her youngest, a little female orcess, on her back. She bounces her gently as she recalls a tale for dictation. The story is fraught with pauses and rawkus laughter and several parts are edited out for the consumption of little kids, but it eventually meets with Kaltyra's approval. ////


There is a spirit in all living things.
But…

Most of us are deaf to their wisdom.


This is the story of creation, as told to me by the druid Stonetooth.

Long ago.

Long, long ago. Before any living creature roamed the world, before any plant danced in the sunlight there was just the world; Grumbar. It was like a great big stone, alone and silent. Things were good, but eventually Grumbar got lonely. He had no children, no excitement.
So he decided to find a wife.

He had long admired the Sun and decided to court her. He robed himself in beautiful colors: the plants, the flowers, the trees and grass. These children praised and worshiped the Sun for he had built them to not know life without Her.

The Sun, who had thought Grumbar just a boring rock, suddenly saw all the beauty and life he had to give, so she accepted and agreed to [some careful censoring by a blushing Anne] marry Grumbar. But when they [more censoring] kissed on their wedding day, the Sun’s touch burned and melted Grubnar. He ran away, bleeding great gouts of fire and molten lava.

To this day the Sun circles the world, circles Grumbar, looking for some way to rejoin with him.

It was clear Grumbar could not be with the Sun, so he wept. He wept so much that the oceans and rivers formed. He drove his bleeding deep into his heart as he tried to stop the pain. Sometimes the pain or anger is too much - and that is when you get a volcano.

Well, after Grumbar mourned for many centuries, he finally thought of a new way to not be lonely. He formed living creatures from the places the Sun had touched him. All the animals, the people, the birds - all the living creatures were born of Grumbar. When they die they become part of Grumbar again. So we are all children. Even the wind and the plants and the ground itself. They are all alive.

Therefore we all speak a common language. But, as we have strayed away from Grumbar we must learn the language again. If you learn it, you will also uncover the many magics Grumbar built into his children. Blessings that will let you live life through the eyes of plants and animals, walk a single step and travel miles - and sharpen your mind with the knowledge of the ancients.

There is a spirit in all living things. Just because they do not know Common does not mean they cannot speak – if you are willing to learn to listen.

/* This was a story I more or less spontaneously made up in game shortly after Silias was returned from the black orcs. I originally posted it in the Doron Amar forums, but it fits here as well. */

Deathgrowl wrote:Silias asks Laitae what she's been reading all the time, motioning to the stacks of books around her. Laitae replies, saying that most of them are children's stories and Silias then asks her to read her one.

Angharradh and the Faerie Dragon

Garurtgix was a young Faerie Dragon living in the Feywild. One day his wings had become gray and dull, and not bright and colourful like others of his kin. A cruel red dragon called Sjachixen had once fooled him into believing it was because all the flowers had taken his colours. This made poor Garurtgix very sad because he used to love flowers.

"How can I get my colours back?" Garurtgix sadly asked.

"You must cut down a thousand flowers of each colour." Sjachixen replied with a cruel smirk.

And so Garurtgix started to cut down all the flowers he could find.

One day, he came upon Angharradh, the Queen of Arvandor, who was tending to her garden. It was a great and beautiful garden of flowers of all the colours he could ever imagine, and had a small pond in the middle. Garurtgix, being angry with the flowers, told her that they had stolen all his colours and that he needed to cut them all down. Angharrad shook her head at his anger and told him to come down to the pond with her.

There, they looked into the relection of the pond, and indeed, Garurtgix had no colours. He then let out a sad sigh.

"You see?" he said sadly and looked back at Angharradh. "My colours are all gone. Sjachixen said the flowers took them and that i had to cut down a thousand of each coloured flower to get them back."

Angharrad smiled at him.

"No, dear. They are all there," she said and threw a bucket of water over him with a soft chuckle. "Sjachixen have just covered you in ashes, little one."

Garurtgix blinked and looked down at his reflection again. Now, his wings were yet again shining with bright colours. He then smiled and helped tending to Angharradh's flowers for the rest of his life.

Meri smiles cheerfully as Anne presents her with the pair of stories, and offers a patient and sympathetic smile when Anne makes mention of the ... censoring she had to do. Meri explains that she is proud of Anne for dealing with it well, but hopefully there will be less of it needed in the future. At least it is an interesting tale. She carefully adds the two tales to what is presently a book set aside for short tales.

"We'll see what other stories turn up."

She smiles and makes her way to the kitchen, and can be heard muttering about where the almonds went.

Herran stops in after hearing of the request for tales and apologizes as he shows Anne a paper with musical score and lyrics

" I know the request is for childrens stories, but this is a song I have sung to children throughout my travels, one that most seem to enjoy" he smiles "please do read through it, and should you wish me to come back to sing it to them, I shall be more then happy to. I also have other songs they might enjoy, if this one proves satisfactory"

"Oh, I can be contacted at the White Mask Theater, I am Herran Hymm, the replacement director for Mia." with that he hands her the score and leaves humming the tune to himself.

Humans love dancing, the elves their fine singing
Halflings smoke pipeweed, while dwarfs keep on digging
Gnomes always tinkering with nice shiny toys
All favorite things of good girls and boys

When red wizards smite
When the orcs chase
When the werewolves howl
I simply remember my favorite things
and then I don't feel
So bad

Paladins with great swords and druids with panthers
Clerics with turn words, monks lightning quick fisties
Rangers with great bears patrolling the trails
Makes for a lot of fantastic tales

When red wizards smite
When the orcs chase
When the werewolves howl
I simply remember my favorite things
and then I don't feel
So bad

Ships on the ocean, and wagons on prairies
Streams full of fishies, and woods full of fairies
Skies full of bright stars, all through the night
Showing that all things will soon be alright

When red wizards smite
When the orcs chase
When the werewolves howl
I simply remember my favorite things
and then I don't feel
So bad

Kyree heard of Sister Meri's request to gather stories and made her way to the Orphanage. She longed for the children she could not have and so she held every child as a precious thing. And though she did not like walls and buildings made of stone, nor the ripe stink of unwashed humans, compassion drove her to do this thing.

The guards took away her weapons and showed her inside. The sound of singing drew her and the tune was so delightful, so catchy that she found herself singing along. The man's voice was beautiful and the the song drove her story from her head.

She sat down with a sigh and tried to concentrate, but the last verse kept repeating itself in her mind. It was just so lovely.

"Ships on the ocean, and wagons on prairies
Streams full of fishies, and woods full of fairies
Skies full of bright stars, all through the night
Showing that all things will soon be alright."

Meri stops in early in the morning, makes a half dozen honey cakes and smiles at Anne.

"Dear, you are in charge of this for a couple days. I won't be so far that I can't return quickly if needed."

((Honey cakes delivered to Lampir =D

Thanks everyone! For now due to existing RP these are given to Anne at the temple (in the evenings/aka whenever you have time to post) =D ))