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

(Bael's notes are written in Celestial)

Baelather walked into the room he had been allowed to use as lodgings at En Dharasha Everae, pulling down his hood and running a hand down his face. He had a feeling his reveries would be few and far between in the coming days, weeks, perhaps even months. Muttering to himself he began to take off his more martial trappings, letting out a sigh of relief now that he wasn't wearing so much armor, and that some of his blades could rest. Amoracchius was still tied hard at his belt, however. Going into his packs he pulled out a small waterskin and sipped from it - wiping his mouth with the arm of his tunic. With a click of his tongue he put it down, whilst at the same time picking up another pack that he placed on the table within the room, sliding down into the chair and pulling out a small book, as well as a quill and an inkwell. The ink was a pretty little blue hue and Baelather admired it a moment before starting to write down in the book.

As much as things around here seem to change, many others would stay the same. The constant seems be the forces of evil opting to rear their ugly head wherever possible. Every thing that's good has to be appreciated, as if you've found a new star in the sky to look toward at night. It's very well that a man has regained his sight tonight - but I find it hard to keep a smile on my face as much as I would prefer to. The new home that the Elves have found here is in a word 'wondrous' but before I even had time to look around it myself I was told of an undead army that would make their way here and destroy it. And if that isn't enough I'll have to figure out a way to deal with some Relic I've been informed of as well. Hopefully my meeting with Rilae'ar'an goes well. Without having had met the girl I can still feel assured that she shouldn't have to hold onto whatever burden came into her possession from the Dukes. Tests of will and faith are abound here, though I am a bit weary of dealing with Eilistraeen relations - it will be more than essential. Even if whatever path we end upon ends in 'success', it will be hollow. For something so apparently powerful to be controlled there will have to be loss. Catching the blade will fall to me, if I can help it.

Raising the quill from the parchment one last time he sat there looking down at it, waiting for it to dry. His expression was grim as he thought about the future. But he knew that Corellon Larethian would continue to lead him where he would be able to do good. Regardless of how dire things might become he wouldn't let his faith waver for a moment, and he was sure of that. After the ink had dried he put it away. Making his way out of his room and to the tavern, with hopes they'd have fresh fruit juice.

With a nigh-exhausted sigh, Baelather walked through the entrance to Baldur's Gate. Regardless of whether he was or not - he had a distinct feeling that he was being watched with extra care by every member of The Fist who's vision he came into. Although he'd never quite cared for the Fist, until now he never had a genuine disdain for the Mercenary Guard of this city. As tired as he could could almost feel every little raindrop like a little whisper attempt to wriggle it's way into the back of his head and shake the foundations which he'd promised over and over to stand on. He wasn't sure whether a more packed tavern would be appropriate for his privacy or not, ending up getting a room at the Elfsong Tavern. He paid quickly and with a smile, making his way through the crowded common room and up to his room. Pieces of armor almost flew off his form as he began to stretch out his arms and legs. After that he went to one of his packs that laid on the ground, sliding it onto the bed as he hopped onto it and sat cross legged. Taking out his inkwell and a book - opening it and ripping out a back page, bringing out a quill and scribbling down a note Remember to pick up some fruits and water before you leave town. Quickly setting that aside as he opened the book and began to scribe.

As it stands, all that we seem to be sure of is that It is millennia old. She couldn't even be sure as to tell me if it was the thing we believe it to be or not. Though if nothing else we can be sure that it's much better off in our hands than the hands of it's creator. I believe It could be used for great good, but only from certain circumstances. Though it was certainly interesting to meet with a follower of Eilistraee, I can only hope her faith to be legitimate. I've not dealt with the Maiden before, and I hadn't ever suspected that I would. Her existence, though I do believe it true could almost be ascribed to some children's tale. Though regardless of what she may offer in aid, I can only hope that He would give us the strength we need in this time of such dire need. I'll have to attempt to commune with him once I am back within a community of The People. For without his aid from Arborea I very much doubt any of us will live through Hinzel's retrieval. Rilae'ar'an does seem like a sweet girl - but she's so scared. She's earned being scared. If we are to succeed I'll need to help her conquer her fears. The Spider Queen's whispers will seep into our minds as we attempt to do anything with It, I'm sure of it. As much as I believe I'll be able to hold my thoughts steadfast I can only provide the others with hope and support. I do not suspect many will be willing to aid us in the venture that I would hope to achieve. Either through fear or disdain. If their hearts don't stand pure they would be a burden, so I don't regard them with any disdain for not joining us. I have some inane notions of what we could possibly use It for, but the most important thing is that no agent of darkness obtains it.

With that written he pulled the quill away, letting out a tired sigh. Closing his eyes and holding a hand around his symbol of Corellon. Silently asking him for any strength he could spare. He'd willingly die to keep this idol away from Lolth. And he was sure even if he was to live that his body would be bloody and beaten. There would be scars from these coming events that wouldn't heal. After the ink had dried he put away the book. Letting himself fall back into reverie.

Baelather let out a groan as he made his way to his room at the Friendly Arm. Taking off his armor and simply letting it rest on the floor he picked up a satchel from his belongings and put it onto a side table, pulling it next to the bed and plopping himself down. Taking out his journal and quill - he quickly grabbed for the inkwell and dipped the implement in. He knew he'd keep this short and it would just be little notes. With the way his ribs were still sore he didn't want to stay upright much longer.

"Candlekeep is as safe as it can be, given that we had about four dozen people defending it by head count. If forces like that attack En Dharasha Everae I fear for the forest itself. There was far too much fire involved. The spider-like creature at the Fields of the Dead was troublesome, if more like it were to attack a settlement it would be devestating, and nigh unstoppable. That Cara girl needs to be dealt with. The fact that the Dracolich didn't need it's crystals to reform is a terrible thing. And the undead poured from the vault as we left it. There isn't a safe front anywhere anymore, Corellon help us all.

After the ink had dried he put away his supplies quickly, pulling off his tunic to reveal a very bruised up body. He'd lay back in the bed to drift off to sleep rather than simple reverie. He'd been far too busy to resist the need for human-like rest now.

The Cleric plopped down in the Lathandarite's guest quarters, placing his armor off to the side and stretching himself out. He let out a tired breath as he searched in his satchel for his journal and writing implements. Running a hand back through his hair he carefully positioned the the book onto his lap and the inkwell on the bed and began to write hastily in his journal.

"Agelong went swimmingly, the ceremony was well received and we decimated the Orcbloods in the Misty Forest. Though not too long after the festivities had ended, Israe'arran had to raise her head again. She attacked a boy named Feldspar, luckily he's back in the village resting now. Strangely enough when I went to visit the Friendly Arm, I ended up aiding Eldarian and the others he had gathered to help remove the last remnants of a devil from Berea. So I'd say the good this day outweighs the bad at least."

He coughed and held his side, opting to put away his quill and inkwell, waiting for the ink in the journal to be completely dry before putting away his journal. Taking off his boots and taking in his reverie on the provided bed.