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

A white skinned, dark haired Imaskari man sits with quill in hand staring at the blank pages before him for some minutes before at last, pensively beginning to write.

In the case that anything should ever come to happen again to you and you find this small book upon your person, know that your name is Cuolis Arsilmo. As of yesterday you are now deemed an Apprentice of the School of Conjuration of the Drow city of Sshamath, the second oldest of the schools here. You did not come by the city of your accord but by need.

I will recount to you our first thoughts as best I can recall and transcribe.

Cold fear and purest darkness. We were not alone but were surrounded by others of similar state. I remember knowing I must run, that something had come to pass and that only by getting away from that place could I ever hope of living again. Alongside me were drow, duergar and short, sturdy, red eyed demon-like orcs. Within seconds I heard the wails of the dying. I did not stop to glance, I only ran. Up and down steep trails, past formations of rock like the teeth of dragon gods until we fell to our knees.

Hunger and thirst weakened us and it was during this brief moment I noted our wounds. Each of us bore headwounds. Not of sword or arrow but upon our crowns. It was then we all saw it glide over the crest behind us. A frail being with large eyes and tentacled maw. The Illithid. And behind him, those of us he had reclaimed of our number. madly and glaze eyed they ran at us and we stood and ran. On and on we went, barefoot and in rags. We took distance over caution and it paid off well until we came to a great gaping abyssal hole.

Fatigued we fell to our knees. It was then I sighted something that could save us. Here had been a skirmish, some long time before and as I scrambled to the skeletal figure of a drow I can only think was a warrior, I touched the broad head of a steel tipped spear. I rounded and let out a cry to the others. Searching thus we gathered what was there, a few knives, a sword, the spear and to myself I took a club. Fighting broke out among the strange orclike creatures. It was only moments though before again we were set upon. The infighting was forgotten. As the thralls descended upon us the stout demon orcs let out cries of fury.

My memories forgotten now, I can state simply I have never seen a folk so willing to fight as them. I was dazed in horror even as they threw themselves into a frenzy at the slaves but even in this state, something awakened in me and I knew what I had to do. Crying out I gesticulated and wove the weave, pulling to me a wolf of brown and white. The slaves were torn apart by the orcs and drow but then the Illithid came. Two threw themselves at it with but bare hands and were thrown down, the demonorc and a drow. Again I knew my need and spoke the words, searing swirls of pure magic I flung and unerringly struck. The Old Master stumbled even as my wold sprang upon him and bit at his arms. Running I raised my club and drove it as hard as I could upon his pate. No sooner did I take a breath and realize it was dead than I looked to the two fallen. The orc, one of the ones who had shown the most bickering, the drow, who had tried to band us together. I chose and knelt by the drow, tearing off my rag of a shirt and staunching the wound upon him. He came to even as the other let out a blood spitting death rattle. I helped him to his feet and together we set off in search of the others who had already run.

The man waves toward the bar and is delivered wine, paid for in various coinage. He sips quietly, sets down the glass and ponders his writing before beginning again.

We had not far to go before finding one of the drow behind the rest. He had watched what went on and if anything could be read in his expression, it was approval. On we went until we had caught up. We were down to six in number and still lost. With only one way forward we hurried as fast as we could.

Into a maze of tunnels we came. So many ways to go we were at a loss. Then came the fire. A great sheet of flames sprang and we could feel the mind of The Masters on us. We ran. Around bends and turns to yet another fork. Four of us ran one way, two another. Again fire sprang high blocking our way and we made back to meet one of those orcs they call a Tanarukk. The other that had gone with him lost. Pressed I recalled one last way and bid them follow. All but one did. He I never saw again and I know he died somewhere deep and probably lays there still.

We crossed a river with a bridge made of masonry cut by hands. Onward we went when suddenly we came upon duergar, armed and surprised. Telling them our story they looked at us wary but at last gave us a choice. Give to them one of us as a slave and they would help us get to safety. Dong, the tanarukk ran and gave us the chance we needed. On we went following where they had come from. The tunnel widened and we passed tiny lamps of faerie fire. Ahead stood armed Drow who came to attention at our approach, crossing spears and demanding our halt.

Such surprise they had as they looked upon our bloody, starved selves. Even greater was it when Dong, duergar in tow came behind us at full speed.

A long debate was held until the drow turned the dwarves away, stating in judgement that none were true slaves. This made the duergar furious but with the only action left to be to fight the guards, they left with many insults and fire behind their eyes.

This was your first day of the rest of your life, Cuolis. Your companions were Dong the Brave of the Tanarukk, and the wily and sure Drow, Nelorin Melve'dwa and Lomendel Rashedrilo. Though you have not seen them since you came here, they are likely your closest family now.

A pale man sits in the Glouras. A glass of wine, inkwell and journal sit before him. With quill in hand he carefully treads across the page, each stroke slow and thought out.

The School of Magic has accepted me at last as a student of conjuration and summoning, the second oldest branch of arcane practise professionally taught here in Sshamath. I had little idea what to expect but arrived at the appointed time in as best condition as I could muster.

Preperation took the better part of a day. With what little coin I had I bathed and had my clothing cleaned, sewing the holes in my robe myself with brown thread, which was a stark contrast to the cloth I wore. With my last pieces of gold I bought dye and made everything brown. Easier to match the thread than the rich red. Despite all I thought, it turned out far better than I had hoped it would. I will not return to that small inn. The bathing tub finish was ruined in the process. The innkeep was also idiotic and his wife nothing but a nuisance. The building was rundown and from the outside looked merely a small secondstory hovel. I have doubts from my intercourse with the owners that it is even legal. I did note the matron loved her shoes and dresses.

She took great effort to show everyone her social standing by bragging about how their coin had bought her a silken dress and equally gaudy shoes. I spent two weeks there and there is nothing even remotely significant about the stay to write on further. I will speak of the tests instead.

On the first day I was met by a wizard of the school of summoning(he gave no name) on the open foyer of the school and beckoned to a large room with desks. Told to sit, I did and he left to return a quarter hour later. I was given basic instruction to recall all cantrips and basic spells. I don't think he liked me much but did each as asked. On completion I was told to leave and I would be contacted.

Four days later I received a plain note, stating that if I still wished entry I would be at the school that day in an hour. Despite my body protesting the lack of rest I had gotten I made it and was again tested, this time under direct questioning of the same wizard. The school was busy with many drow passing this way and that until I was seated this time in a smaller, more private feeling room.

Patterns, circles, double circles and planes were the subject. His line of questioning seemed deliberately obtuse and I found it a challenge to answer, while filling in as best I could, only cognitively, what he had asked. He frowned a few times and looking back upon it now, I know the answers I should have given. Hindsight is truly 20/20 and I observe this is yet another way the drow weed out the weaklings.