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

Deaon sits on the corner stool of the bar in William's Well, lazily sipping wine and writing in a journal.


Well, I better start new again, seeing as I left my last journal with my stash back in Waterdeep.

I am Deaon Dusk Venor, a half-moon elf well into my 24th year. I am a thief and recently an alchemist by trade, one that is likely to end with me bled out in an alley somewhere. If that happens, I want it known how I ended up there, whether to the one who put me there or for whoever finds me, I care not. I'll start with why I left Waterdeep.

It was Highharvesttide, the people were feasting and the Open Lord and Masked Lords would be holding an open court for the peoples, that was my in. Piergeiron's Palace would be abuzz with servants busy in the kitchens, dining halls, and surrounding area, and the guards lax with all the new faces about the palace helping to ready it for festivities. One of the perks of never fitting in with a guild or gang in the city is all I needed was a single opening.

Working in the palace for the days leading up gave me all the information I needed, who was coming to stay for the feasts, where their rooms were, and which guest rooms are rarely guarded when the occupant is out. A ring here, a necklace there, some coin from the trunk under the bed. I wouldn't need to steal again for over a moon with the suns I would make from this job, even without the pay from working in the Palace itself.

One of the bad things about not being in a guild or gang, was no lookouts. Voices in the hall. This would of been Lord of Amphail's room, he was down in Waterdeep to renew his oaths to Open Lord Piergeiron. Hells he shouldn't of been back for hours still. I stuffed a hand into my pouch of choking powder and held my breath as the door opened. I threw it in their faces and ran like my life depended on it, and given the gains I had on me, it very well did. I ran down through the halls, into the dinning rooms and kitchens beyond and slipped my way out of a side door.

Slowing my pace to match those entering and leaving the palace grounds. I made way to an alley nearby, where I stash a cloak and change of clothes before leaving the Castle Ward and heading to the City of the Dead. Climbing a tree behind the Lords' Respite where I left a trowel, and dug a hole to leave the baubles I had collected in. They should still be there, a moon's worth of suns to be fenced off, should I ever go back.

The following nights I stayed in different inns in the Southern Ward, until I overheard a merchant saying how he was having a hard time bringing up funds for a shipment down in Baldur's Gate. I offered a goodly sum of gold to take me along, little did I know just how wide the world was and how long the travels would be.


The following pages are filled with drawings of plants and potions, and alchemical formulae.

Deaon sits on the middle stool of the bar in the Broken Goblet, with a goblet of wine next to his journal as he writes.


Right, back to it then. Met a lot of people since I came down south, none yet I've regretted. Well mostly none. Find a few knickknacks and baubles here for bread, nab some extra goods when dealing with bandits there for meat, sell some lesser curatives for wine. Life is looking better, even if I do still get the itch from time to time. I always have enjoyed well cooked chicken more than charred rat. I've been spending anything from an odd day in Roaringshore to a few in Beregost, but its the city of Baldur's Gate itself that has been kindest to me.

Things have been easy pickings and all, and I have been able to sooth my mind a bit from time to time by talking to a sister of Ilmater. Even got my first propper job from a noble, even if it is just some field research on an area. My mother always saw it as important to take us to the shops and see what could be gotten from the local woods, so most things are simple enough to recognize. I mean, even the goblins seem to of been using some of the native mushrooms and moss. Things will be easier for a time.


The following pages are filled with sketches of ships, pirates, and a gallows.

Deaon sits writing, illuminated by soft magelight, by the fire in the Elfsong Tavern.


The last few days have been eventful, active from sun-up to sun-down, and sleeping as soon as I hit the bed. Work for House Vale, more field research and some cave scouting. Good people, pays well too. Gathering materials for my alchemical studies, plenty can be bought but fresh ingredients are readily available. Donations to the temple of Ilmater, the supplies are cheap enough and I've had enough coin come my way. Still sitting on some items I have found, looking for a buyer, but this city seems to be laying low. And of course adventure.

Assaulting a bandit hideout with Gunther and Lucky, taking on kobolds and bladelings with Cade, the orc cave research with Celor and Eres, even besting hill giants with Goodmane and Sol. Leaving Waterdeep has been one of the better decisions of my life, so long as it doesn't follow me down here.


The following pages are filled with sketches of people. A light-haired elven woman picking mushrooms. A dark-haired elven woman writing behind a desk. A man at a desk covered in alchemical supplies. A woman tending to a man in a sick bed. A man well dressed man talking with a guard. An orc walking in a cave. A woman in red dress casting lightning. A man in armor with a large shield and an elf with a rapier by a fallen giant.