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

She finds herself in a large dark room, the walls are lined with dark and gothic art of many large black spiders. Several drow women dressed in black robes with purple trim, their faces are staring at her watching, others dressed in an elaborate elven armor only that this armor is more gothic and purple and black in colour.

She is kneeling infront a menacingly looking drow women, she has a whip of living snakes coiled on her hip, she holds in her hand a small bowl and has a vicious smile on face.

There is an alter behind where the woman is standing, a large slab sits below a giant onyx Spider with the head of an elven women, on the alter lays a body of an elven male his throat cut, blood tricking down from neck onto the slab and drips off on to the floor, the woman with bowl dips her fingers into it than pulls them out now coated with blood, she leans towards her and smears the blood onto her face, priestess turns from her and places the bowl down where the blood drips from the alter, while she you grabs for the dark purple and black helmet sitting on the floor nearby, she picks it up as stands, then she looks around at the others gathered, finally facing the priestess giving her low bow before turning and leaving.

The vision fades to black,


The elven youngling opened her eyes. Deep gasp escaped her lips, panting out heavily. Chill running down the spine, and a feeling, feeling of being touched by something unclean, dirty, a brushing touch of something hostile.

The young sun elf girl rolled out of the bed, and trembled towards the window. The sun outside shined down onto the courtyard, just the noon. How she lost her conscience, she did not know. The elf was already used to the haunting nightmares, often including various murders among drow children. But this? She struggled to keep her earlier food inside. Shivering hand rubbed her face. Then the elf shook head. Just a nightmare. A test. Yes, it must be a kind of a test that Seldarine placed upon her. It is not too long since she took her oath to Steelheart. What else could that be? And why would it haunt her?


She knelt, and played on flute. Could not hear the tones, but felt the saddening tones of it. The shrine, because the place obviously had to be a shrine, four stone walls without roof, decorated with various swords in scabbards. In the middle of the small place, a statue of a weeping woman, leaning onto the sword. She kept going on with the flute, until finally finished. Elven woman in ceremonial armour entered the place and walked to her. Priestess took shoulders of her and raised her up. Motioned to follow and led her to one of the walls. There she drew one of the swords and turned, facing her. Elf spoke something, and she knelt again, facing the priestess in white robe. The woman then handed the sword over. She took it, rested tip to the cobblestones, and both hands onto pummel.

Then the priestess began to recitate something, and she just knew she is repeating the words.

Then the vision blurred and vanished.

Young drow woke up, sweating. She did not remember she would go to the sleep, as she never had a need to sleep like a human. But there she is. AGAIN. Sleeping. These scenes would confuse her years ago. Like why would she ever dream of running under the sun, in the field full of flowers, picking them up? What is that nonsence meaning?
But this time it felt different. She could feel a weird touch. Somewhere, deep inside. Touch that left her soul burning, and that would leave her patron raging in great anger. She could feel the wrath of her goddess. Her displeasure. What is this crap that keeps happening to her?

The loud noise from Friendly Arms Inn fell far away from it. The young elf sat in the shadow of the trees, golden eyes and hair flashing in the reflection of campfire. Shield laying next to her, braced on the log. Scabbard with elven sword resting in her lap. Hands, with gloves off, rubbing gingerroots between palms. She loved the taste of it and also the aroma. She would later rub it into her garments.
Her thoughts were racing wildly. Fifty years. Fifty years it took to finally figure out the source of her troubles. If she talked of it sooner, she could have already found a solution. But now? Now it maybe too late.
"To kill the thing is the easier way," said the priest. Is it? Going into place where she belongs not, to slay a person she knows not, to easy her own mind? A clear violation of own oath.
"The love cannot be forced," said the priest. And yet here she is. In deep elven bond with a hated foe of her kin. The young sun elf smiled grimly. She was alone and could enjoy the luxury of reflecting emotions on her face. She heard too often stories what happened to an elf when bonded partner died. Slow whithering away in grief. A fitting end to the servant of lady of Grief. Hand touched the scabbard. Seeking the contact with only thing giving her feelings of certainity.

"Wish or a miracle," said the woman from Candlekeep, how to break that bond. But she also advised her, not to meet that person. Ar-tel-quessir arrogance claimed her over shortly, blinding her with self confidence, and lured the person into a meeting. To issue a challenge, and sort it, one way or the other.
But blades have not clashed. Despite overwhelming hatred none of them took it to fight. Her palm placed the mashed roots aside into a cup, and face covered a dark grimmace. She desired to kill her. Instead, she cannot now stop thinking of her silver messy hair. The smooth obsidian face. Elf raised hands to press her temples. These pictures were now coming over and over. Along with thoughts what her nemesis is doing. How will she uphold her promises....promises. Did she really believe the drow would live up to her word? She could watch her growing up. She saw what she has done. They were like opposing things, fire and water. Elf picked up a log and stirred the campfire a bit. They both need to find the way out of this...before both loose will to do so.

She sat in the tavern. Taking drinks from the tankard when her vision blurred. For some reason, her vision provided outlook of a cave. And she knew that cave. The drow shook head and vision vanished. Just to return. Over and over. Unknown urge to go there, and it had to do something with the stuff she kept seeing in past.

She walked away, shadows swallowing her. But then the drowess turned around and took last look. Last look at the golden haired sun elf. She arrived with intent. Intent to kill. but something unfamiliar, weird and awknard did not allow even the drow to think of it. She came with rage, and is now leaving...uncertain.
The drow started to slowly walk down the cave and headed "home." That word suddenly felt so empty. As she strode on, she could not stop to imagine the shining hair of the elf. Even in the shadows, every slight light falling upon hair made them glow. Or the golden colored eyes. Or...that dominant nose on the face of much taller elf.
thoughts. What was that. A cold feelings washed over her. Did she spot a spider....or is it just her imagination? Sudden fear filled her. It is hard to walk away. It is harder to walk away, if you were a temple guard. The drowess swallowed, left alone in the cave with her feelings and emotions. And with that smell of gingeroot trailing still in her senses...

The companion walked her right into the outpost. Filled up with discomfort, the elf walked among the drow...and other so weird and twisted beings, she could never imagine of. The elf knew how to act. Stay respectful, polite...and confident. Confidence is the key. They may be traders -are they?- but still. The first thing oath of her vow, order and honor, binding her to pay respect to local laws, will be tried hard here.
"Come," beckonned her the drow, guiding her to the local merchant, for both to sell off what they picked up along the road.

Giant rats, other vermin, among them massive spiders. She held them off with shield, stabbing, and cutting. The last twitching mandibled thing on ground she smashed with bottom of shield. "This one was really massive," she commented. "I told you!" replied her companion and her eyes were burning in the shadows.

The elf looked her companion up and down. Guilt. She felt a guilt. She saw in past, what the drow was doing, who she was before. And now she is here with her, slaying spiders. Gods do not like when servants turn upon them. and even less when they pick up blades against them. But her companion seemed more bothered with being temporary godless, then fearing Lloth. Her feelings urged her to take her under Steelheart. But regardless of her emotions, the elf, thanks to education, could overcome the emotions with cold logic. Anyone taking up a faith because of lover, will be a shallow faintful, and drop on first occasion.

Some worm crawled up attacking her. She stabbed it, and sighed out. Patience. She needs to find her own way. And enough with thinking, these caves are dangerous even when fully paying attention.