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

"Dearest Alessandra" Amaer Kellern was the sort of person who named his diary.

"It has been a while since we corresponded, and much has happened, for I am now an adventurer. I shall not go into the details of my flight from Scornubel, as it would break your heart. Not as though you have a heart. If I were to turn one of your pages and reveal a beating heart amidst the parchment, I think I would... I digress."

"Anyway, I had traveled west along the Chionthar river, away from home and family and friends. I managed to persuade a riverboat captain to take me some of the way, so I avoided the bandits and monsters that many travelers face while moving overland on the Sword Coast."

"The crew were my kind of people, salt of Toril. I had thought to compose a few amusing sailing songs for the crew, but they didn't really take to them. The first mate actually threatened to throw my lute in the river, and me after it. We laughed about it later, of course. Though the captain suggested it best I get off at the next stop anyway. So I disembarked twenty miles east of Baldur's Gate."

"So anyway, I was hiking along the track that followed the river, when I came across an old man, lying in a pool of his own blood. Now, you know I'm not fond of blood, but I got a bit closer and it transpired he was still alive. Only just, mind."

"His eyes flickered open. 'I am Harran de Malech', he said, through laboured breaths. 'A mage of no small repute, but I was set upon by a great number of brigands and I was sorely wounded. Can you help me?' Naturally, I enquired as to what had happened to the bandits. The numerous piles of soot in the surrounding area almost answered my question before the mage could. Reassured that we were safe, I helped old Harran to his feet and we slowly made our way towards civilisation."

"That night, we camped in a cave like orcs. Harran was still very unwell, and I thought we may have lost him several times through the night. I didn't like the idea of spending a night in a cave with a corpse. Creepy, right?"

"In the morning, we continued on our way. The going was slow, as would be expected when escorting an elderly human who'd lost so much blood. I tried to lift his spirits by singing, but I could see in his face that he was in much pain. To make matters worse, I had the unnerving feeling that we were being followed."

As we came to a clump of trees, I heard guttural, snarling voices in the undergrowth. I was about to warn Harran when three brutish gnolls sprung from the bushes. I had no idea whether they planned to rob us or just eat us, for they spoke only in their growling tongue. Two of them advanced upon me, while the third made for Harran. I drew my rapier and prepared for combat, urging the beasts to stay back."

"A flash of light distracted the gnolls and I caught one of them with my flashing blade. Alas, my swordsmanship was learned for the stage, not the battlefield, and it barely nicked the monster's furry hide. Nonetheless, the gnolls appeared panicked, as their compatriot melted away from the force of Harran's spell. Another lance of force tore through the second gnoll, shattering its ribs and spraying me with smouldering ichor. The surviving gnoll tried to flee, only to be incapacitated by a third spell from the frail old mage, and then slain by an arrow of pure flame hurled from his own hands. His powers spent, Harran slumped to his knees. I knew the display had taken his final strength."

"Once again, I found myself leaning over Harran de Malech as he coughed up his last words. 'You're a bright lad, Amaer' he said. 'Take my spellbook, you could learn from it. And I won't need it for much longer.' I assured him we'd find a priest, but he shook his head. 'It is my time.' And with that, he closed his eyes."

"I buried Harran at the crossroads, wondering if he had any family. He had not mentioned them, and I suspected his only true friend was the Art. As I left Harran's grave, conflicting thoughts jostled in my mind. True, I sought fame and fortune, but the wizard had hoped that I learn of magic. Perhaps I could achieve all of the above..."

"I arrived in the Gate a tenday later, finding board and lodgings at the Blade and Stars Inn. I sat in the gloom, wondering what to do next. Should I commit my life to the arts, or The Art? (Alessandra - I'm very proud of that particular dichotomy. I hope you liked it too!)

"Perhaps I should have a peek at the spellbook. Until the next time, dearest Alessandra."

The page ends with a dramatic flourish. There are several small scorch marks where it appears spells may have misfired in the vicinity.

"Dearest Alessandra,

"This eve I met with a most interesting fellow, Jon Smythe the bookseller. I had a mind to pitch some ideas to him, a way of putting to parchment all the exciting tales I have learned from mother."

"My plans, however, were scuppered, when a mage and his elven compatriot came to speak with the bibliophile, and their discussion was of utmost secrecy so I was ushered gently away."

"Perhaps I will take a stroll in the night air to finalise my plans for the next time I see master Smythe..."

"Dearest Alessandra,"

"Once again I have been most remiss in corresponding, for which I am eternally sorrowful. The Sword Coast is awash with adventure, and I have been engaged in a good quantity of it. I met with a most interesting group known as the Mirari, and have a mind to see if they will take me on, for they seek knowledge arcane in the dark places of the Coast."

"I write this eve from the Northern Lights Inn in Amn's scenic Nashkel, whence I travelled from Baldur's Gate a day or so ago. The journey was perilous, and I overcame bandits, who I defeated with the quickness of my blade, and goblins, with the fleetness of my feet. The reason for my heroic journey was to correspond with a great mage, Nelwynn Burrowes, who has called out for an apprentice."

"If Overgnome Burrowes accepts my apprenticeship, I shall be well on my way to unlocking the potential that dear old Harran saw in me before he fell."

"I promise, I shall write more frequently from now on."

Red wine is spilt across the facing page.

Amaer Kellern pored over his inherited spellbook, convinced he had translated one of the powerful spells contained within.

His spider familiar Lianthe perched on the desk beside him, idly cleaning its forelimbs between its mandibles.

"Lianthe!" he crowed "I am sure this is the correct incantation to attempt a Polymorph spell."

The spider looked up with its big black eyes, seeming to show a little trepidation on its expressionless face.

"Now, dear friend, do not be alarmed! I promise not to harm you!" He turned back to the book. "Now, the spell requires an empty cocoon as a component, so I took the liberty of collecting some of your webbing. I hope that will suffice."

The spider looked even more nervous.

Amaer began the process of tracing out the somatic components for the spell in the air, carefully pronouncing the syllables of the incantation. Lianthe quivered on the desk. As he completed the spell, the inexperienced mage threw the tangled mass of webs towards his familiar.

There was a loud bang. "That wasn't supposed to happen," he remembered thinking, later.

***

Amaer Kellern awoke to banging on the door. It was the innkeep. He could hear muffled shouts "If you've summoned something in that room, I'm calling the Fist!"

He was lying on the floor, covered in scrolls and bits of parchment.

Lianthe was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an cuddly black and white rabbit with beady little red eyes was nibbling at his hand.

It took him a while to work out what had happened. "I wonder if this is reversible?" he thought...