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

"Be lead by the voices of your ancestors and fall upon the knee to power of our word. My voice calls out to all of you. Those who have wandered their aimless trudge in eternal damnation of mind and body. Voyagers of the dead to be tossed upon the stake, unable to find your new purpose upon your new body that has given you renewed life."

"Many of you who kneel before the powers that call to you now once had a purpose before your timely demise. I stand here today not in-front of mindless task-masters and husk of flesh-filled servitude. I stand here today in-front of men and women who were once great warriors, magus and clergy of their time! Men and women who have been left here upon these very fields for DECADES to wander these graves and ruins to no fault of your own! Because all of you have been abadoned... Abandoned without direction... Abandoned without a purpose..."

"No longer will this be the case. For upon these final hours will you no longer seek and fail to find your enlightenment. In the name of the Temple of All-Seeing Eyes and the vision granted to me from the Lords of the Dead who bless the path we all will walk in our final breath, I Batibat Kok-Lir Kasdeya, High Priestess of Necromancy and Queen to the Future Throne of the Great Necropolis will guide all of you to your final resting place."

"Upon my lead will you find the final path and upon the guidance of the clergy of All-Seeing Eyes will you be blessed with one more chance to ascend. Grant us your ear and rise up from your graves with raised swords. Grant us your loyalty upon the bending of the knee to our command. Allow yourself to escape this place that entraps your souls in an endless wanderlust. For through our eyes your lives hold meaning."

"Come to us honored knights of death. Come to us gifted clergymen and scholars of old. Come to us fallen hero's of the coast."

"Come and grant us your vision..."

"Our, All-Seeing Eyes."

The fields of the dead... The wasteland of the ultimate end to the masses who have fought within it's hallowed grounds in search of fame, fortune and glory. It is said the dead care not about the reasons for stepping onto the soils of the damned. Catching the attention of the desecrated heros would only bring those lost souls to chase after what it is they do not have. The sweet relief of life and death...

Lately however, the fields have grown silent, nothing but the winds and the muffled groins of the dead echo in the vast expanse of Myrkul's domain. A breif despite, the calm before the storm basked in the grace of the dead three who watch over the holy site of their visage. Only until now have the fields been so silent, only to be broken by the sound of footsteps and the siren's song of the ruined sisters of death...

Within the fog-filled veil did they come, their march held together by the thread of their moral. Some of them limped others simply to be dragged along behind the step of their defeated queen. Battered and broken, yet they pressed on many of them still holding on to the shimmer of hope left to be seen by the one that wore the ruined crown.

The march would come to a halt in the heart of the fields of the dead as the ruined queen stood before a single grave-site in silence... The silence was deafening... Until the queen would turn, and those before her would witness the burning determination within her ocean blue pupils.

The ruined queen would step forward towards those gathered. With a graceful step and a straightened back her voice would boom across the fields of the dead and the lands beyond.

The ruined queen would soon unveil a red-velvet cloth-bound bag. With a turn holding the bag against the rear and pulling the strings a-loose do the shattered pieces of broken gem-clusters fall to the hallowed soil. An outstretched hand follows one of the shattered gemstones, clutching it in hand before gently placing the jagged piece into a socket of her ruined crown.

As the ruined queen lifts a single hand upward does the shimmer of her power display upon the masses in view. A rumbling of the soils beneath the very feet of those who stand on the hallowed grounds of the fields of the dead as the outstretched fleshless hands of skeleton raise from their graves and clear the dirt that once sealed them away. Woken from their slumber did they rise, with sword and shield in hand did the fallen knights march towards their queen and showcase their loyalty at the bend of the knee.

As the ruined queen began her step westbound so too did her risen knights... it was unclear exactly what happened to the rest of her followers... Some sworn to her vision walked the path regardless of the outcome... Others broken of the will to follow or press onward away from Myrkul's grace here in the fields of the dead to find their own path and commune.

In the end all that was left was the sunken footprints of the ruined queen and those who followed her westbound towards the Trielta Hills and onward towards their faithful journey once again.

It was a march destined for something great. . .

The continued venture of the ruined army of All-Seeing Eyes towards a new prophecy to which was granted upon them by their ruined queen Batibat Kasdeya. There was to be no rest, for there was no place that granted sanctuary to them now. There was to be no omen, dictating their journeys end towards the promise land appointed by the word of their lord above. There was to be... nothing... Only their faith and their will to press on, held together by the thin thread of hope that kept their line in formation as they marched onward.

From the ever-pass of the Trielta Hills the site of green lush grassland took to their feet as they entered a valley between the rocky overpass of the hillside slopes. The path laid out before them shaped by a thin lair of lichen mud outstretched along the grass-valley into the flatlands ahead. The path extended for what seemed like miles... yet it was a sign... the first of many that fate would bring to the ruined army and their queen... or so they say...

A grass flatland plain extended out into a thick gorge ahead. Upon the transition of the elevated gorge lied two large watch towers, chipped and damaged yet still standing tall above the valleys end towards the grassy flat-land ahead. A warning horn would blare as the army marched closer until coming to a halt. There, in the valleys end did they march to take up their rank before the Army of Eyes in their opposition. A man stepped forward from their ranks his armor decor'ed with golden and mithril trim. A symbol of lathander would be proudly displayed on his shoulder guards and cloak that flowed gracefully with the valley's wind.

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' They told us to turn back from which we came for we were not welcome. Something we have come to expect... ' ' It would be apparent that they however were not expecting us to decline their warning. The lathanderite knight leading them took little time to draw his blade and address his name... Orlando Dawnguard... '
There was a breif silence afterward, his gaze locked upon the queen awaiting a responds of any kind. What he failed to realize was. . .

It was a march destined for something great. . .

A great battle.



Kill them. . .

The sounds of might and magic echoed in the air as the swords and shields clashed in a battle of life and death. The battle waged on for days and nights as the Knights of Dawnguard slowly began to be pushed back and took up a desperate defense in a village within their domain. The army of the dead did not waiver as they did... for there was no fatigue in their forward momentum. They came with ruthless aggression, their will to fight brought upon them by their ruined queen's word. As they Knights of Dawnguard attempted to hold what ground they could evacuating the women and children. Dawnbringer Orlando Dawnguard held the horrid sight of the flames in his vision, watching his brothers fight from afar in hopelessness... His grip tightened around his blade as the blood leaking from the wounds of his fruitless effort dripped on the now desecrated soils once blessed by the touch of the morning sun...

Within the chilled corner of their new home. The All-Seeing Eyes continue to fortify their position in their new lands. Through the combined effort of the Ruined Queen and the Great Abyss Nightwalker, Draza. Their is a new initiative to rally the vampire communities that reside in the region under one banner once again as was said to be so in history. The ruined queen would take up the mantle of spokesmen upon their arrival into the ruined walls... However it would seem more then just vampires were to arrive as honored guest that night...