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

Her footsteps made a soft brushing sound as she picked her way through the rubble; she released a long sigh, and pressed a hand to her forehead. Her silken gloves were warm to the touch, but such minor details escaped her thought for now as they were to preoccupied at how Tharnassius would respond to the current situation. Indeed, it was certain that he would not be pleased, and furthermore she found herself grinding her teeth and could feel the sorcerous energies burning within her blood.
 
For the first time in a long time, she could feel her anger building to a great height. The air around her must be smoldering, she could hear the crackle of fire erupting around her and could already smell the intoxicating smell of smoke as it burned through her perfumes. She extended her gloved fingertips, and allowed a trail of fire to emit from them and roll along her arm, passing amidst the jewelry she wore and up to the tattoo's upon her biceps that label her a priestess of Kossuth. She felt the tiny fibers of her hair burn away, could feel the sting of the arcane flame. The pain helped her focus, she did not need to display her power or heritage here, such things could only be dangerous.
 
"I need a drink.." She could her her musical voice ringing with a sick melody, she was more angry than she had thought.

She released the sorcerous energy, and felt her burning presence leave her; she turned and glided out, eager to seek the tavern after her journey back from Thay. Tharnassius would be back soon, and the local events would prove to be a major setback to their plans. Her mind continued working ferociously as she struggled to clear it in favor of more sensible thinking, anger was such a difficult emotion to conquer.

She had a meeting anyways, as Tharnassius had arranged for her to meet with a fellow that would help her in her pilgrimage to the north. Attamiah could not be surprised, Red Wizards often had many contacts, and she was honored that a Wizard of the school of Evocation had taken such interest in assisting her. Still fighting away her anger at the burning scene, she wondered again how the Red Wizard might retaliate to his Calimport abode becoming victim to what must of been a large explosion.

The young priestess of Kossuth headed towards the eastern most sabban towards a particular tavern near the docks there, her mind a flurry with such emotions that no man, or even women, had a chance to understand.

----

Not for the first time, Attamiiah yr Ralen el Ceralerad had to fight the bile that rose into her mouth from the unpredictable swaying of the Bristled Raven; the ship she rode was a five masted Barque, and the speed which it propelled through the water was dizzying by itself, never mind the waves. Truly, if ever Attamiah was out of her element it was now. The priestess of the Fire Lord had managed to acquire the quarters of the captain, Baleiv Vladric, which sat high above the water's surface; the cabin even had a small balcony on the rear of the ship where she was able to dine with the fellow from time to time, when more still waters permitted. However, such was not an occasion, it was still midday and the skies were dark with menacing grey clouds, and explosive waves propelled their ravaging mists on all sides of the large ship. She expected to hear the screams and shouts of the sailors, but she could only hear the agonizing moans of the wooden structure that surrounded her and the claps of thunder, or perhaps it was just the sea.

Attamiiah was not afraid of most things, but as she sat in the dark she was shaking with fear; not for the first time Attamiah considered lighting the lanterns in the cabin, but just prior to the storm, nearly four hours ago she wagered, Baleiv had barged into the cabin blowing out the flames with an express warning to not light them again. She knew prayers that would yield light, and just as well knew that sorcerous energies flowed deep within her capable of yielding the same, but she could do nothing except press her cheek to the wooden pillar as the boat heaved this way and that.

Lord of Flame, protect your servant!

The priestess pleaded to the Primordial fire element, aware that despite her great faith she doubted Kossuth would hear her in this dark and wet place; she was not a flame now, and certainly did not illustrate the glory of the greatest element in all planes of existence. Even as she focused on a brilliant flame within her, a novice trick to grow closer to the Tyrant and hear his words, a fury began to build in her. She could hear the yelling of the sailor's now, and could hear the booming voice of the captain shouting orders. She could feel the torrents around her and became vividly aware of how wet the deck was at this moment. The ship, covered as it was in salt water would not take fire, and she would be a candle to those sailors.

She heard the voice, then, a roaring thing that boiled from within. The Ignan speech familiar to her as she knew what she must do.

----

His muscles groaned in agony, his hands burning with the brisk cuts of the soaked rope that he and several other crewman struggled to pull tighter. The sails bellowed with violent whips with the wind, but the fabric had survived worse.

How did it get so dark? The young sailor marveled, and he was certainly not the first.

He knew they had been fighting the storm for a few hours yet, and though familiar with the Sword Coast, he did not think this one would relent any time soon; the light was failing, and manning a ship in the dark was the most impossible of tasks. Their lanterns has long been snuffed, by either wind or spraying torrents of the sea. Several sailors had already tossed their purses overboard in hopes the Bitch Queen would spare them their ship, himself included, but with the presence of the Kossuthian priestess he wondered what cost would her passage be to Umberlee.

"Your fates are your own, sailors!" He heard a voice shout, the bell like peel unfamiliar to him. He looked above to the Captains door, from whence the cry came and saw a brilliant flame erupt there.

The sailors tried to shout, afraid oil had somehow caught within the wood and would bring the ship ablaze. However, there was a silhouette in that flame, and the priestess of Kossuth stood within, her robes burning away as the fire around her illuminated the decks. The sailors could see her body, covered in jewelry, and the tattoo's that burned brighter still; her hair whirled in the wind and steam and vapor blurred her visage as the seas attacked her. High as she was, however, the reaching tendrils of the sea could not douse her, and the spraying mists that assailed that priestess evaporated around her and efficiently kept the ship from catching fire.

"There is a light in the darkness, and a torch to those who will embrace it's warmth! Fight on, men!"

The men of the Bristled Raven did not know how to respond to this, fearful of the Bitch Queen, and equally so of Istishia though they were the warmth and light made their jobs significantly easier; morale lifted among the men, and they worked onwards, emboldened to accomplish their tasks.

---

It was a gentle sway that coaxed her awake, just as well was the beads of water that danced across her skin from a soaked rag that quickly dried on contact; the room was well lit, and it was difficult to open her eyes but when they came into focus she saw a woman with dark skin. Fiery eyes regarded Attamiah with curiosity, blue specks scattered within them somehow cooled the surprised set of the womans lips, platinum blonde hair was matted and seemed in need of a wash. Attamiah looked away, and from the corner of her eye saw the woman look in the same direction, and then the same instant move her eye to meet her own.

"There be the savior of our ship…" Stated a booming voice, though the volume of which seemed decreased and more hoarse than she remembered.

It took a moment to put a name to the voice, "Baleiv… How pleasant to see you." She closed her eyes and it dawned on her she had been witnessing her own reflection.

"Aye, and you.. We were wondering when you'd wake, mi'Lady Mia."

There was a brief pause as she voiced her curiosity, "How long was I asleep?"

"Five days, and just in time for port!" The man croaked, bumping a fist to a barreled chest and clearing his throat with a self-aiding massage as his voice came back, "Baldur's Gate is a few hours out, and the seas are calm."

Five days?!

It was no curious thing at how disorientated she was in that case, and at how much her stomach begged for a meal. Her nose caught scent of just that, then, some biscuits and various fruits were settled on a plate next to the fellow.

She forced herself to her side, and then sat up. Her muscles felt sore, but they worked well enough; Captain Vladric beat her to the plate, however, and moved it to her hands with a roguish smile. Mia regarded him, not for the first time impressed at his composure. This sailor of the sea was rough and bearded like many of his ocean favoring comrades, the bushy black beard contrasted well with his green eyes and his skin was just wrinkled enough to declare him within his middle years. His hands were large, and his arms were rather hairy. The fellow reminded Attamiah of a black bear, though far more calm and certainly much more friendly.

Mia picked at the biscuit and ate it, surprised at her own self control to maintain proper ettiquite, a fact which Baleiv did not let down,

"Ye certainly are Taashaad Ceralerad's flesh and blood!" He boomed a laugh, and rubbed at his throat again, clearly annoyed that his voice had not quite returned even after five days, "Ye take fire and illuminate the ship for the entire evening' and give heartwarming speeches all the while, and then exhausted, ye wake and maintain composure. Gotta hand it to ya, Mia, you're one of a kind."

She didn't have to force a smile, it just came along with the musical sound of her own laughter.

"You're too kind… Really. The Glory of the Lord of Flame cannot be attributed to my accomplishments alone, such do him no honor, but all I do is for He."

"An' now ye attribute your own bravery to your God.. Typical priest." The man spat jokingly, and clapped a bear like paw on her back.

She coughed as the concussion from the friendly blow struck her, and moved her mouth to keep her food from fleeing forth; what followed was not food, however, but laughter erupted from that pair setting the mood for an adventure well remembered, and an adventure yet to begin.

"Captain! Port's in sight!"

Excited knocking did not interrupt their laughter as a fist pounded the hatch to the captain's cabin,

"Baldur's Gate awaits!"

A biting breeze slipped on board the Bristled Raven and forced a shiver out of the priestess standing on the deck, though none of the hurried men ensuring the vessel made it safely into port seemed to even notice; Mia couldn't hide her agitation, the North was so much colder than the desert.

"Not off to a good start.." She muttered silently to herself, though she hadn't realized she spoke aloud until she heard the booming voice behind her.

"Oh really my Lady? Well, never mind all that. I've got good news and bad news for you, which ye want first?"

"Captain Vladric…" She tried to hide her surprise behind a polite smile, "Let's hear the bad news, then you can brighten my day with the good."

"Always the bright star!" He clapped a hand on her shoulder so hard she nearly lost her balance, "Well, bad news is you don't have a body guard for such a rough town as this." He gestured to Baldur's Gate, the sprawling city buildings laid out before them with it's high gates and busy docks teeming with people all intent on their individual tasks. "But the good news is, we've put out the word in the streets about a 'lady of fire'… As well as a few rumors that will keep ye safe walkin' about."

"I heard of an Enclave in the city, do you know any Red Wizards there?"

The bear like fellow held up his hands guarding himself from a fury he did not expect, nor wish to receive, "Absolutely not, you know I don't associate with wizards or sorcerers.. Other than your father of course, but he's different!"

She resisted the urge to ask, How so? but thought better of it. He would likely just retrace his steps and start talking about some grand adventure of his past, which she did not want to hear at the moment.

"Fair enough, I assume you have friends in the city?"

"Aye.." He said suspiciously, "But they're friends of mine, and not your father's. Plus, I be owing good ol' Taashaad so your passage was free; and I'm sending my crew to spread word of your hidden ferocity to keep common crooks out of your pocket."

"I'm curious, why are you doing that for me?"

"Because ye helped save the ship, least I can do is save your pretty little head… Now don't be asking' to many favors. Ye don't want to be in debt to a man'o the sea!" He laughed, hands on his hips as pointed at a deck hand, "Hey, you blighter! Get back to work, and stop dillying with tha' blasted rope!" His joy was gone, and his thunderous voice carried over the port as he shouted towards his crew to complete this task or that.

Mia knew their conversation was over, and folded her hands in front of her thoughtfully.

It did not take long to finally moor the Barque, and Mia found herself politely offering small blessings to the sailor's as she departed. Finally having set foot on the more stable docks, she instantly felt relief and felt her pace naturally quickened as she hurried across the stable wooden planks to solid cobble stone. Taking in a deep breath of the salt filled air, at least she was used to that, she moved out of the docks district and took in the sights.

Baldur's Gate was a city like any other, but not absolutely nothing like Calimport. Of course it was easy to tell which station people held here, though there was no higher walkways for the noble's alone, and she quickly discovered that peasant and knight alike shared the same worn cobble pathways. She also determined rather quickly that slave trade was not allowed in this city, not only were there no stands near the docks, but there were absolutely no chains save the occasional cuffs that hung from a soldier or two. It was insufferably easy to determine who thought they were in charge, and the confidence with which the Flaming Fist patrolled the docks and city in general said they were nothing but glorified mercenaries.

There was little in the way of regal apparel here in the docks, and her silken robes, and the various bracelets, and other jewelry she wore certainly attracted the eye. She pulled her hood higher and brushed her hair from hanging just over her nose to the side, offering a smile to any to catch her eyes. She heard a few cat calls, and whistles though none were made with eye contact; she did not disgrace herself by laughing or turning, but rather kept walking towards the larger portion of town. Once she arrived in the East district by way of another large gated archway, she found the clothing to be much more colorful, and large bushes and other shrubs were artfully displayed outside establishments and window sills alike.

Adventurers seems to be a common place here, dressed in odd styles and hailing from all over Faerun; she saw a great variety of hin and elves walking the streets, a sight she was unused to and she could not help but smile. The city was not such a bad place after all.

She smelled him before she felt him, a scent foul of the sewer filled her nose and would of made her plug it had her wrist not been grabbed; she barely had time to squeak as a hand clapped over her mouth, suffocating her with the disgusting smell.

"Take 'er jewelry.." She heard a man whisper.

"Take 'er clothes!" Suggested another.

"Relax boy's, we'll take it all.." The stinkiest of the men sneered, still dragging the priestess into the alley with the assistance of his two friends.

Mia could feel rage boiling at their audacity, and the dishonorable intentions in these men summoned a fire within her that she could not, or would not, suppress.

"Do ye smell sulfur?" One man asked, suddenly choking. "By all the seven hells!"

The three men were completely caught by surprise as flames erupted all around their captive, their sewer stained clothes did not catch fire but they didn't hold on to Attamiiah long enough to test whether or not it wouldn't; she felt her air escape her as she fell unceremoniously to the cobbles, landing on her back she coughed and even breathless found her hand around the throat of one of the attackers.

Trapped by panic, he tripped over an alley barrel but did not escape her clutch. The fire consuming her enveloped the man as well, and he caught fire.

Possessed by rage, and with her breath barely regained she was barely able to whisper, "You would dare attack an emissary of the Tyrant? Flames shall judge you!"

She had assumed the others had ran, but that was not the case as a club quickly told her; striking her in the back, she buckled over and fell to the cobbles again and felt the flames slip away with her breath once more. The fellow she had caught was still burning, and now tried in vain to roll on the ground and put himself out but Mia knew he was dead already.

"Beetle!?" One of the men cried out, trying to put him out but the flames had taken hold and Kossuth's rage was in that alley now. "You bitch!"

She would of punched them, but now steel was drawn and the criminal that had struck her was still trying to pelt her with his club; she already thought her arm was broken from shielding herself from what might of been a skull cracking blow. Fury had not escaped her yet, though she did not know what else to do. She jumped into the man and tried to wrestle the club from her, but a backhand caught her cheek but she did not let go of the club.

She could see the man with the short sword advancing, trying to find a good way in to stab her without harming his friend. There was little she could do, and she was near and about to clench her eyes shut and say her final prayers to the Lord of Flame when a fountain of red burst from the mans chest.

A thick curved blade was dripping with blood, and even still after it was ripped out of the man's back a boot pushing the man free of that life ending blade as another precise cut hamstringed the fellow wrestling with Attamiiah.

Baleiv Vladric stood over the man and put the scimitar to his throat, "The Lady of Fire walks the street, you are fortunate she did not call forth the elements and incinerate your city for the insolence."

The man stammered and pleaded for his life, but the bear did not cease. "

You'll run to your little hole in the sewers and tell your friends not to invoke the wrath of her god.. Go!"

Captain Vladric slapped the man across the face with the flat of his blade, and the man tried to run and fell for the wounds in his legs; he began crawling away as Mia approached and laid her hands on him, whispering in his ear.

"This is going to hurt… Do not panic."

The man seemed on the verge of screaming, and he did as she prayed to the Lord of Fire to restore the flesh of her former enemy. His wounds healed, though as the divine energy flowed into the criminal she knew that Kossuth's own rage was in that healing.

"The Lord of Fire has found mercy for you, and has chosen to restore you. Go, tell your friends if you wish it… But suffice to say that your friends will not receive mercy from the Tyrant this day." Her eyes passed to the pair of corpses, the burnt man had stopped moving, though he was still aflame. The scent of burnt flesh and blood was heavy in the air.

As she watched the man run for his life she felt anger, she wanted to kill him, but Kossuth had indeed found mercy for him otherwise the healing would of slain him.

"Wise of you. Now perhaps the lesson of restoration and wrath will travel." The sea favoring fellow stated, his mouth turning in disgust as he cleaned his blade on his fresh kill. "And -now- you owe me a favor."

She would of laughed, under normal circumstances, but her rage was beginning to settle just as the flames around the corpse were. She could feel tears welling inside her, her body ached and she fell to her knees in the alley. "I.. I.. I killed him."

"He would of killed you, and worse."

"I wanted to kill them all."

"You have the power."

"It's not me, don't you understand! It's not my power.. And.." She couldn't finish, tears were welling in her eyes. She didn't think it would be so hard, but she had lost control and had lost her composure. All the self control and discipline that her parents had taught to her meant nothing, and that smoldering corpse was a testament to it.

"The first kill is never easy.." The man said sympathetically, placing his hand on her shoulder; his scimitar was now tucked into his sash and he handed her a bottle. "Drink up, it won't do for your reputation for people to see you like this.. And this one too."

She didn't even taste the liquid as she drank it, either one, she looked at her hand and watched it vanish and more slowly felt the effects of healing spread throughout her body. The sensation of invisibility would have been strange any other time, but now all she felt was sorrow. Baleiv Vladric guided the invisible priestess through the streets and to the nearest inn, The Blade and Stars.

---

She sat in her room, a frown now set on her face as she recollected the events of earlier that day. She had lived her entire life in an estate since her father was all but a Sultan in Calimport itself presiding over near the entirety of the docks ward. Taashaad al Abiib el Ceralerad had the ear of the Sultan's of that city, and many others; his wife, and her mother, Ralen yr Raqiil el Ceralerad was a powerful sorceress and talented singer both. She was certainly not used to violence, at least not from anything other than the brilliant stories her mother had told her. Since she inherited the genes of her grand-father, Mukjia, an Efreet of no small amount of power, she had additionally been sheltered within the Temple of Kossuth there in Calimport since before she could walk.

It was starting to settle now that she was indeed no longer in Calimport, and there was much about the world she did not understand. It was also a rush to know that it took the influences of her past to save her, and the last bit of protection she had was going to sail away in a week. In fact, it had been by her own suggestion that her father offer her no help on her sojourn north; he had instead claimed on his honor that he would see her safely to Baldur's Gate, and she could manage alone thereafter. Attamiiah was seriously reconsidering her choice nestled as she was in a chair with her legs tucked onto the seat and bound by her arms; her eyes locked on the fire as she felt tears traveling down them.

"I'm so far from home…"

The fire crackled, and she thought she heard an accusatory whisper from the logs within.

"Killer"

She turned her eyes away from the flames, she knew it was her conscious speaking to her through them, or at least hoped it was. Everyone in the Church of Kossuth could speak to the fire, and listen to it as well, but the flame communicated to them differently. It told them what they needed to hear.

"You're right…" She retorted to the flames, but she still would not look at them; she sat in her room and allowed her tears to dry on their own.

And now I have to deal with it.