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

Shaytessa Umbrynthal's final journal entry:

---

Now the light is gone, 
                      darkness     disobeyed 
Tenebrous 
  She 
     grants 
            understan . . .  ding
			
Life now coveyed, 
     a mere masquerade
Neb
   u
    lous, 
          my 
	 mind 
	         seeks 
  the mea ing
         n

      i
Her sp rIt now withdrAwn, 
                          my brillance fades away. . .
V Anquished, my soul cries out
                          screa-e-ming!!!!!!

Condemned to a plight 
                      to terrorize the night
As a violet light 
                  faintly gleaming


              ci
The        mer   ful
     most                          world
                     thing    the           blind     to
                           in            is      ness                             
              v j e 
             s  f  b u
              f  a  o   
             u  a  e
              e  t  !


    False per cEp tion, 
      dEEp de cEp tion 
                     led to my insanitY-y

    Dreams eTERnal, 
     life inFERnal 
                  madness is my DEStinY-y



And WHO was I to STRIVE for MORE than WE should knOW???

     Through SECrets, our mInds does SHE overthrOw ...


In an ever     ing state, 
           last      
    will
Her       I  contempLate 


         S  a  l  
                  v  a 
                        t  i  o n 

                                 l 
                                   o
                                      s
                                        t
 
  The most                                 s
             hateful                        o 
                        thing                  
         in the world                           l
   is                                              o
      know                                           n
           ledge                                        g
      o f
    H E R                                                  a   g   o 
   q e i 
    j b y 
   t u I
    a x

False     per cep tion, 
   dEEp    de cep tion 
                                led to my inSANity
   Night   e t E R n a l, 
         Death  INFeRNAL                            st
                                ...mad ess is m   de  i
                                      n        y       ny







[center]M A D N E S S    I S     Y O U R    D E S T I N Y . . .[/center]







             e 
  False  perc ptions 
                     
  self  deCEPtions                
                   led to           I
                           my  insan ty

 D
Sc
   r
     e
       A
         m
            s 

               e
                 t E r
                       n a l, 
                                  deAth   in fEr nal....

 Mad           mY
     nEss is       deStiny...



                                       N
                                    MAd ess is my  EstinY...
                                                  d

         




[center]. . .  I N    B L A C K   S E A S    O F   I N F I N I T Y ! ! ! [/center]
 

 

Eleint 22, 1335 DR, The Year of the Snow Winds


"Iri, stop! You're going to get us into trouble again!" scolded a raven haired young girl into the darkness.

Crawling on her hands and knees thin blades of wispy light flickered in the stirred dust, cutting down like knives from between floor boards scarcely above the girl's head.

"Only if you tell on us ... again... Shay-tattle." retorted a young girl's harsh whisper followed by soft scurrying sound that quickly began to fade into the distance.

"Iri, that wasn't my fault! I didn't have a choice, Grand Dame Raventree already knew that we were the ones who had taken the sweet cream. She said that if we didn't confess, she would have us whipped and sent to bed with no supper!"

Up ahead in the darkness the scurrying stopped, the started again, this time growing louder and closer rather than fading.

Suddenly, the face of another dark haired girl with pale blue eyes stared back at Shay.

"You are such a baby. Grand dame Raventree didn't know, she only suspected until you said something -it could have been anyone who took it." countered Iri in an annoyed tone.

"And there is no way Papa would have let you be whipped, " she added in an exasperated sigh, "... well, me maybe, but not his darling Shay. Gods Shay, now, shut your mouth, and come on, this going to be fun. That Old Dame Bladderblat won't be able to sit still for five minutes, let alone through tomorrow's morning service."

Seven summers old, Young Mistress Shaytessa Umbrynthal first winced and then nodded at her sister Iradortha's words, checking to see if she still had the pouch that Iri had affectionately named Wytche's Brew, a hellish concoction of dried sawdust, a pinch of moldy dust from the larder, thirteen dogs hairs carefully chopped with a stolen kitchen knife, seven crushed fire ants, three carefully ground leaves of Three-leafed Ivy, and two measures of "spiteful spit" added for good measure...
Eleint 22, 1351 DR, The Year of the Crown

Drenched in sweat a young dark haired woman, crouched in the corner of The Song of the Morning's infirmary, her fingers gently probing the wall, and turning her head to watching the shadow of her hand, and speaking to herself in whispers, interspersed with fits of childish giggling and incoherent babbling, often followed by mournful cries of sheer terror.

This journal entry was penned in a different hand than Shaytessa's, by Lashartanna Umbranthal.

The Year of the Bridle, The Twenty-ninth of Nightal

Don't look away, the time has come
To abandon absolution.
Your body shivers, the rite begun,
Penetrate Shar's grand illusion.

Take my hand, come with me...

Oh there's no turning back... back... back...
Worship with our coterie
Useless virtue turns to black... black... black...
We're your new family

...it is your destiny...

Darkest mystery, deepest blasphemy
Shrouded between the blood
Spilling threads, hallowed by sacrifice
Parting the veil for her acolyte

...embrace the Shadow

Changelog: