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

"You don't do anything right!" he yelled, as he threw his beer mug across the kitchen, shattering it against the wall, his eyes full of rage as he glared at the cowering woman in the corner, holding her newborn infant to her chest.

Joseph Hennett was a violent man. An alcoholic dock worker who frequently came home drunk and took out his rage upon Sarala, his young wife. She bore the brunt of his wrath many times, oftentimes wearing a hood or a shawl to hide the bruises. Tonight was a night like so many others, at least at first, until the evening took a decidedly darker turn.

"J-j-Joseph...the baby..." she pleaded, desperately. Sarala's entire life was one of fear, one of cowering and hiding. But Joseph, being a dock-worker, was well-involved with the Pirates of Luskan. A simple thing like abusing his wife or child would never even matter to the local authorities so long as Joseph kept his mouth shut and helped the Pirates smuggle their wares.

"The Baby is a coin-purse draining Parasite, Woman! And so are you!" He yelled as he threw another beer stein against the wall. "You and that damnable crying infant do NOTHING but bring me grief!! I work all damn day and when I come home I EXPECT dinner to be on the table and ready, woman!"

"The-the b-b-baby was s-s-sick...." she meagerly cried out. It wasn't but a second afterwards that his backhand went across her cheek, knocking her to the floor. Still, the mother clutched the crying infant to her breast even as she fell, making sure to fall so that she took the brunt of the damage.

"I DON'T CARE, WOMAN!" Joseph screamed as he began to take off his belt. The belt that, over the years, had left many lashes upon Sarala's back. The Belt which was the implement of Joseph's rage. "It's time I was rid of both you, and this screaming inconvenience! Perhaps I should just strangle it, so it will SHUT UP!"

This was the final straw. The straw that would break the camel's back, as it were. Sarala put up with his abuse for years, too afraid to do anything against the large, powerful man. Fear that his Pirate friends would hurt her even more if she spoke out against the abusive Joseph.

But a mother's instinct to protect her child is, perhaps, the most powerful instinct there is. More powerful than Love. More powerful than Fear. She would not allow him to hurt her baby.

As Joseph approached the two, belt in hand, ready to give her "another lesson", Sarala reached down to the broken beer stein, and with a flick of her wrist, a strike coming from naught but pure instinct, Sarala took a sharpened piece of the broken mug and slashed it right across Joseph's neck. The blow struck true, slashing across his jugular, warm blood spewing from his throat all over the walls and floor, and all over Sarala and her new baby. The man screamed, clutching his throat before falling to the dirt floor, bleeding out.

Sarala panicked. She knew that the Pirates of Luskan would kill her and her baby as soon as word got out she had killed Joseph. Desperate, trembling, and covered with blood Sarala threw every meager possession that she could gather in a small brown sack, filling it with food, a water skin, and what few coins she had been able to squirrel away from her job as a bar wench. Tying the meager sack around a broom handle she hurled it over her shoulder, all of her possessions in one hand....and her little baby in the other.

She stole into the night, leaving the bloody corpse of her husband on the floor where he lay. She knocked a few things over in this house, thinking that if she made it look like a robbery gone wrong it would give her more time to escape Luskan. Taking her meager possessions she made her way into the forest. Being a bar wench she had learned, through many years, to keep her head down and go unnoticed as a simple servant girl. Sarala knew she couldn't go to the Docks, but she knew of a hidden path through the woods that lead to a small nearby village where she could, hopefully, get help from her Aunt and Uncle that lived there.

But the woods are dangerous at night. Monsters and Predators were always on the prowl, eagerly awaiting their next meal. Tonight was no exception. As the crescent moon waned overhead Sarala heard a sound that sent shivers down her spine. She was already terrified. Already panicked. But this fear was far more primal. Far more horrifying than anything she had ever experienced. She then realized a horrible truth...

...she was covered in Joseph's blood. And the Wolves had her scent.

She ran, desperately, as she heard the pack of wolves closing in, their feral howls echoing into the night. The briars and the thorns biting and gnashing into her flesh as she ran through the thickets, holding the baby close to her to shield it from the razor sharp branches. She could hear the padding of their footsteps crushing the leaves and the twigs behind her.

Panicking, gasping for breath, Sarala ran deeper and deeper into the woods. She was no longer on the path, but she didn't care. Right now her immediate concern was one thing: Survival. Not just for herself, but to protect the precious cargo she clutched into her breast with such fervor that a Giant could not have wrestled it from her grasp.

As Sarala scrambled through the thicket, her face and her arms lacerated repeatedly by their sharp thorns she came across an area of the forest where the thicket was thickest. So thick that she could not squeeze through it. A wall of brambles. She was trapped. The Wolves had herded her into this dead end as if they were herding cattle into a cage. She faced the wall, her back facing awayl, shielding the infant with her frail, tiny body as best she could. It was then that Sarala saw....her.

She was a mighty She-Wolf, her fur as silver as the moon itself. Her eyes glowed white from the reflection of the moonlight, and her teeth were bared, long as daggers. With her head down, and a deep guttural growl, the she-wolf approached them. Flanked on her left and right were two other, smaller wolves. Likely her own pups, joining her in the hunt, their teeth also bared. They slowly approached the young woman, who was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. The She-Wolf reared back, ready to pounce..

...and then the baby let out a deafening cry. A cry that echoed into the night as if it were a Banshee's wail. The She-Wolf stalled, as did the other two wolves to her sides. The She-Wolf studied the woman, her eyes appraising her up and down completely. Sarala shuddered, but could only utter one word from her trembling lips:

"...Please..." she begged. The Bitch Wolf gazed to each of the wolves on her sides, and they backed away, no longer snarling or growling. Their teeth no longer bared. The She-Wolf stared Sarala right in the eyes before standing upon her back legs....and her form began to shift.

No longer was a She-Wolf standing before Sarala, but now a young woman, probably in her 30's. Her hair was as Silver as the fur of the wolf she had been only moments ago. She was naked, all except for a pouch draped over her shoulder which hung by her side. Her eyes were vicious, savage and feral. But there was something about her. Something compassionate. For just a moment Sarala's fear abated. The woman slowly approached Sarala, sniffing at her. And then her eyes fell upon the child. Sarala clutched the child even closer to her chest, fearing the worst. But the Silver Woman smiled at Sarala, showing her stained teeth, and then spoke in a gentle, soothing voice.

"Naveah....no hurt child." She spoke in very broken common, and her words seemed forced, as though she were straining to speak. It was clear to Sarala that this woman had not spoken Words in a very long time. Even as she spoke the small sentence she spoke very slowly, as if she was having to think of the right words to use with every word she spoke.

Naveah then stepped back, placing a hand upon each of the heads of the young wolves...who also stood on their back legs, their forms shifting into those of two teenage boys. Twins. Sarala watched in both horror and amazement as the pack of wolves that had been hunting her only moments before....were now a young mother and her two children.

Naveah motioned to each of the young boys before introducing them.

"Bokan, and Wotan." she motioned to each of them in turn. They each glared at Sarala, a bestial frenzy still in their eyes. Naveah approached the now much calmer Sarala, her arms extended. She has a big smile on her face, a look of pure joy as she looked at the tiny infant.

"Give baby....Naveah want hold baby!!" she almost squealed. She seemed giddy, excited, bouncing up and down on her heels. "Naveah would never hurt baby...."

Her smile was genuine. Desperate, and scared, Sarala thought to herself that perhaps this woman and her children could lead her back to the path, and on the way to the nearby village where she could be with her family. Sarala felt, deep in her heart, that she could trust this woman. Hesitantly, and with great caution, she slowly handed her infant baby to the young woman.

Naveah squealed with pure joy as she cradled the crying infant in her arms. She leaned in, kissing the baby on the forehead and rocking him back and forth. She hummed a beautiful lullaby, and the young infant's cry slowly began to fade. Sarala smiled, feeling safe, truly safe, for as long as she could remember.

Naveah then did something that truly astonished Sarala. Clutching the baby close to her chest she began to breast-feed the child. It would seem that, even as old as her own children were, she was still able to provide nourishing milk. The baby cooed, contentedly, as he suckled from her.

"Baby eats Greedily..." Naveah smiled, caressing the baby's hair. "Him will make great predator some day."

Naveah, after feeding the child, handed him back to his mother. As Sarala held him, smiling, Naveah continued to caress the baby's long hair. Sarala recoiled, at first, but then Naveah's loving smile reassured her that things were going to be okay.

"Beastlord does not allow Hunt of Young Mothers, or Infants..." Naveah explained to her. "Must be allowed to nurture and grow, so as not to disrupt balance of Nature. Naveah help woman find her way..."

Sarala grinned, ear to ear. Naveah was true to her word. Naveah and her children guided Sarala back to the path, and escorted her safely out of the dark woods. As the group approached the edge of the woods at the end of the path Naveah leaned over and kissed the infant one last time.

"What am him name?" Naveah asked curiously.

"Sarkhan." Sarala stated.

"Sarkhan..." Naveah repeated. "..is Good, strong name."

This would not be the last time that Sarkhan and Sarala met Naveah or her children. Indeed, this would only be the first chapter in Sarkhan's long story. They had been spared that night. Spared because followers of the Beastlord, Malar, could not hunt them. They would go to live with Sarala's Aunt and Uncle for several peaceful years.

But as we all know...Peace never lasts.

(( End of Chapter 1. ))

Five Winters had passed since Sarala and her baby boy, Sarkhan, made their way to the tiny hovel of Raven's Watch. Sarala's Aunt and Uncle, Adam and Brandilynn, had welcomed them into their loving home and raised young Sarkhan as if he was one of their own.

Sarkhan was a rambunctious young child, always getting into everything. His curiosity was relentless, as was his energy. It was all Sarala could do some days to keep up with the adventurous adolescent. But that was fine by her. Sarala no longer lived in fear. She lived in frustration more than anything.

Sarala was a beautiful woman. The most beautiful in the entire village. But every suitor that came to her, every man that would try and woo her and take her hand she could not help but see some of her ex-husband in them. It would seem that Sarala would never again be able to have a stable relationship, due to the trauma she had experienced from the abusive hands of Mr. Hennett.

But this was fine with her. Sarkhan was the only man in her life she felt she truly needed. She did the best she could to raise the boy, taking a job as a wench at the small tavern in the Hovel. It was, after all, the only work with which she was familiar. And a pretty face can sell lots of alcohol.

Sarkhan was a welcome sight in the Tavern. The owner, Jerred, was always eager to give the boy warm pie and a stack of pancakes whenever he would come in with his mother. The fresh apple pie always brought a smile to the boy's face.

It was peaceful here. Happy. The little Hovel was far enough away from Luskan that the brutes and pirates of that foul place stayed in their rat hole, leaving the little village alone. Sarkhan was, however, the only small child in the village, the majority of the other children were well into their teenage years. The town was very poor, there was no schoolhouse, and most of the children were already working on the farms by the age of ten.

So Sarkhan found friends in the unlikeliest of places: He found friends in the Animals. He named each and every one of them: The Rooster that cawed each dawn was named Johnathan. The Pig that came to it's trough every morning at exactly the same time was Tom. The She-Cow next door was Bella, whom Sarkhan would steal fresh milk from her pale when Old Farmer Bill wasn't looking. He knew, however, Sarkhan was horrible at hiding the milk moustache that inevitably followed.

But his best friend of all was the She-cat, whom he named Shiva. Shiva was always by his side, every moment of every day, following the young Sarkhan on all of his "adventures." Granted, the adventures of a five year old boy rarely consisted of more than seeing how fast he could run from one end of the tiny town to the other. But this was a small, tight-knit community. Every adult in the area knew of the rambunctious little Sarkhan, and was sure to keep an eye on this Wild Child.

Shiva was his protector. His guardian. Sarkhan never felt as safe as he did with her. Sarala didn't allow animals in the house, but that didn't stop Sarkhan from stealing some of Bella's milk and putting it outside his window sill for his best friend, who would visit him every night. And every night they would sleep together, curled up in each other's arms, Shiva's gentle purr rocking the boy to sleep as it would a babe in it's cradle. But each time Sarkhan would awaken the next morning Shiva would be gone. Sarkhan didn't think anything of it, he just figured she had to go eat or something.

One night, however, Sarkhan went to sleep next to young Shiva for the last time.

The sound of drums echoed into the night as young Sarkhan was stirred from his sleep by his bedroom door flying wide open, young Sarala storming into the room, gasping for air. Sarkhan awoke, terrified, as his mother ran over to grab him in her arms.

"We have to go Sarkhan, now, Orcs are raiding the village!! We have to go now!"

She barely had time to scream the words before the front door to their small cabin was kicked open, three very large and very intimidating orcs darkening her door step. They laughed wickedly as they glared at the young woman, one of them licking her chops.

"Child make good Stew." One of them chortled. "And Woman going to be great for....other things. Hehehehe..." The foul creature said as he licked his lips, lustful eyes gazing upon young Sarala. One of the Orcs lunged forward, punching Sarala in the stomach, and throwing her over his shoulder. As she did she dropped young Sarkhan, who quickly scurried under the bed. It did nothing. The massive Orc merely tossed the bed aside and grabbed the screaming child, putting him under his arms and carrying him out in the center of town, where the rest of the raiding Orcs had gathered all of the townsfolk. They were both thrown into Farmer Bill's sheep pin, herded like common animals, as Farmer Bill's rotting corpse lie in front of his now burning house.

Sarkhan huddled next to his mother amidst the sea of people. As they did one bigger, much more menacing looking Orc walked forward and looked at all of their captives. Several of his subordinates began to collect all of the village-folk's meager ownings: Silver goblets and such, and tossed them at his feet. The Big Orc looked at the scraps of treasure lying before him and gave a displeased grunt. Without a word the Big Orc looked at two of his subordinates and nodded, who proceeded to walk forth and pull a young woman from the crowd....Sarkhan's young mother, Sarala. Sarkhan held onto her for as long as he could, but the big Orc brought his fist down across the young boy's mouth, knocking him from her. The two Orcs started to drag the young woman off, laughing sadistically, preparing to violate her until she had no more screams left to give...

...at least...at first.

It was as bright as the morning sun, the gout of fire which fell from the sky. The blazing inferno engulfed one of the ravenous Orcs, searing his flesh from his bone and reducing him to ashes before he could even fully scream. The other Orc let loose of Sarala, reeling back from the shock of watching his compatriot reduced to naught but a charred stain upon the ground.

He yelled something in Orc, looking around frantically to his Superior and the other raiders before ANOTHER gout of Fire came from above, melting the Orc into a pool of goop.

The Big Orc, the meanest one, reached forward into the sheep pen and grabbed young Sarkhan, clutching him close to his chest, holding his axe to the young boy's throat. A clear threat that he would harm the boy if whomever, or whatever, was attacking these Orcs did not show themselves. Sarkhan could feel the edge of the axe pressing into his throat before looking to the side and seeing a most welcome sight...his beloved cat Shiva had wandered out of the barn next door and stood in the streets, hissing and spitting at the Orc Warchief. The Warchief, of course, ignored her. She was just a cat after all...

...that was, of course, until three silver beams of Light flew from the "Cat's" eyes, striking the Orc Warchief repeatedly with unerring accuracy. The beams knocked the Warchief onto his back, who released Sarkhan after the sudden impact of the crushing blows. Sarkhan scampered into his mother's arms, who held him trembling. The Orc tried to stand, but it would seem that whatever beams "Shiva" had struck him with had robbed him of his physical strength. Shiva slowly stalked forward before standing upon her back legs...and changing into a very familiar woman to Sarala.

Naveah, the Silver She-Wolf who had spared Sarala and Sarkhan those long five years before, now stood before the Orcs. In all of her glory shestood before them all with her eyes glowing like orbs of lightning. Shamanistic Magic and Lightning coursed over her naked form. Two of the Orcs tried to charge her...they didn't last long. With a flick of her wrist two powerful bolts of Lightning came down from the Heavens and cascaded across the metal-covered bodies of the Orcs, blasting them into oblivion, disintegrating their armor and searing their flesh as black as night.

Three other Orcs drew their battle axes and began to charge her from the other side. Turning around, her eyes glowing red, Naveah breathed in...and exhaled. A gout of Fire and Lave expelled from her mouth, disintegrating the three orcs before they even had a chance to scream. The remaining orcs all fled in terror, running head-first into the woods from which they came.

Naveah laughed.

As the first of the Orcs broke the tree-line of the forest a series of vines and brambles shot forth from the ground and the trees, covered in razors, grasping the orcs around their necks and severing their jugulars, their blood violently spilling onto the grass. One of the Orcs was pulled apart, just as though he had been drawn-and-quartered without horses.

With all of the Orcs now dead, save for the now nearly helpless leader, Naveah calmly walked forward towards him. The Big Orc was barely able, through force of sheer will, to climb to his feet. He propped himself up on his axe, barely able to stand due to the Moon Bolts fired by Naveah sapping him of his strength. He uttered something in Orcish...a curse upon this "Witch" no doubt, before Naveah drew her sickle, it's sharpness gleaming in the moonlight.

With a single strike of this wicked-looking implement the Big Orc's head flew from his shoulders, landing upon the ground next to the stables. Sarkhan glared into the still-open eyes of the Orc's skull, quivering in fear at the sight.

Naveah faced the scared townspeople, all gathered in the sheep fence. She walked over, slowly, and opened the fence once more, ushering them all out. What few were left. The small village barely had 25 people in it, little more than 10 remained. The rest had been brutally savaged and killed...including Sarkhan's Aunt and Uncle Adam and Brandilynn.

One of the remaining townsfolk approached the naked Naveah, trembling. His eyes cast downward he nervously asked the Silver Woman:

"H--How can we ever repay you?" he stammered.

Naveah thought for a moment. She gazed over each of the townsfolk before finally looking to young Sarkhan. The young boy that she had, secretly, been nuzzling to sleep and watching ever since that fateful night she had delivered them to this hovel. A smile beamed across her face and her eyes lit up as she gazed upon him, walking forward to him, extending her arms. Sarala knew what she wanted and so, with a warm smile, handed the young child to Naveah so that she could nuzzle and kiss him like she had before.

As she held the young boy in his arms, bouncing him up and down, she cooed contentedly.

"Sarkhan have become big boy, yes him has, look how handsome him become!" She said as she clutched him close, running her fingers through his long, wild hair.

"Naveah want.....him." She nodded her head to the boy.

"I...I don't understand.." said Sarala.

"Naveah...no can have more children." she sadly expressed. "Naveah's own children am Grown. Naveah...want him..."

"But..he's my baby.." said Sarala.

"Naveah know...Naveah let him visit! Naveah let him come home as often as him like! But..Naveah teach him be strong! Teach him be Shaman of Nature, like Naveah! Teach him take form of animals, and teach him to protect village...when Naveah is old, and can't anymore.."

Sarala looked to all of the villagers, who all looked at each other. They all looked back to Sarala...and gave a solemn nod. The village knew they would need a protector, for Naveah may not always be around to do so.

Tears streaming down her face Sarala clutched her dear, baby boy to her chest, before finally gazing into his eyes with a smile.

"You..you be a good boy, Sarkhan. You be a strong boy, you listen to what Naveah says, and you learn from her. You learn from her so that you can be strong..."

"I...I will Mama.." the young boy finally spoke up. Walking away from his mother, but never looking away, Sarkhan took Naveah by the hand, who squealed with delight as she picked him up and put him upon her back.

Naveah had always gone upon Sarkhan's "Adventures" with him. But now the true adventure was ready to begin, and Sarkhan's life as he knew it would be forever changed. No longer was Sarkhan one of the civilized folk. Sarkhan's path had been illuminated for him on this most bloody and auspicious of nights.

Sarkhan was ready to become One with the Wilds.