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

The pathways slowly went silent on the outer farmlands of Baldur's Gate, as people fled the open grounds to avoid the quickly gathering storm.
Only a lonely horse's hooves clapped on the downtrodden ground, nearing the great city in sight. The sun has just set, and the newly lit torches of the city guard got into a wild dance, mirrored by the polished chain mail of the horse's rider. The horse was short and sturdy, but the countenance of it's rider made her seem sitting higher even so.

The rider wore a silver masked, chain mail reinforced helmet, with ivory horns socketed on the sides, and thick white horsetails on the top and the back, obscuring the back of the neck area. The rider's garb mimicked the deep orange color of the setting sun, with golden embroidery running all along the fabric - Shou Lung style, if that's familiar for the onlooker.
A formidable sized, almost body-length composit bow lay across the lap of the stranger while she rode, idly tapping on the handle of the weapon as she neared the outpost. The wind picked up, sending the horsetails of the helmet in an erratic flow around the rider's head, just when her eyes met the guard stepping up in front of them.

"HEY! YOU! No weapons here! You are on ducal lands!" - he barked up at the rider -
"... and remove that helmet!"

With unexpected ease, the stranger pulled the composit bow over one shoulder and the helmet, to settle it unused on her back. Then reaching up, she removed he helmet, revealing a round face with a wide nose, and sharp and straight eyebrows above upturned eyes. A tight-lipped smile was conjured on her face, as she nodded a few times in quick order, showing obedience. Thus they were allowed to pass.

The city gates were in close sight, when the first thunderbolt stroke, lighting up the sky in eerie colors far beyond the great city.
The rider excitedly poked on the sides of the horse, goading it into a faster pace.
"Come on, Tsu-Ming. Teylas approves of our path."

Greetings Khadun.

The Sky God has blessed me with fortune, so I can present these words to you.

I have reached the other end of the continent. There is a fortress-city here, they call Baldur's Gate. The city has high walls and towers, likely to many other stone cities on the west, and this one has so many districts and streets I couldn't explore the whole of it in two days. The districts are all open to the vast waters, and ships are coming and going all day long. The city is likely to a small kingdom politics wise, and it's led by a council, they call them Dukes.

This city is in war with a people called Zentharrim, but they fight with coin rather than weapons. To the north, there are said to be more merchanting port cities like this, and to the south there is an empire called Amn. These Amn people worship coin above anything else, and they are said to be similar to the Shou in their lust for comfort. Now, both the Zentharrim and the Amn would swallow this city-kingdom if not for the elite guards they call the Fist company. It is said each man of this company equals to a Kashik in strength. Numbers or organization of this company I do not know yet.

The land itself is fat, pastures are showered with frequent rains, grains and fruits grow well and big. There is wealth here, with potent magical items aplenty. Adventurers here are said to carry gold upon them that could supply a tribe for years. The only thing they lack is unity.

Here in this city I met with a man who claimed himself to be a Tuigan, from the ordu Kadun. He said he was bagatur of his arban, but his man all know the last embrace of the Mother now. He seems to be a renegade, but said to have sent his report back to his Khan with a magical amulet.. This man seems to have a good reading on the people living here, lives here since a few years, he may be a worthy recruit until reinforcement come.

May the ethernal blue sky smile upon the Khahan and the Khadun.

Not long after delivering a body on horseback to the Temple of Wisdom in the Friendly Arm Inn, the tuigan rider is seen to leave the church in a relative haste compared to her usual demeanor.
She takes the reins of Tsu Ming to lead her out of the inn-fortress, while second-checking the hidden stash she secured under the saddle a few minutes ago.
On her way, she numbles to the mare on her mother language, a bad habit she picked up in the last few tendays, due to staying away from her ordu since so long.

"This land confuses me, Tsu Ming. Is too bags of gold too little or too much for a life? ... I should have just made him my servant." - she grumbles - "But then, what do you do with a man who has a face of a painting? Look at him all day?"

The horse didn't seem to have an opinion, thus they reached the gates without any solid solution to the problem.
By the bulletin board, the rider stopped though, to have a look at the notices. Eyes narrowed even more, she tried to identify the names and locations mentioned on the papers.

"Hrm. I'm bored of waiting." - she addressed the horse again - "We will scout other paths too."

In a far-far away land to the east, near the outskirts of a bustling city, within a ramshackle district, inside an even more ramshackle apartment building's smallest tenement house, there was an opened letter laying on the table, official seal freshly broken.



"Madame Lu,

With regret, I must inform you that the recent script of your play about the Horselords didn't get approved by the Masters' Council due to incorrect portrayal of historical figures and events.

Since the allowed time for a successive submission has passed, our company must withdraw all forms of regular financial support effective next month.

Would you wish to continue partnership with our company in the future, please submit an officially approved script through the known contact points.

..... "



The young woman rubbed her fingers on the back of her hand, in vain effort to keep up her usual mask of composure. But as the candle on the table flickered while nearing the end of the cord, so did her self-disciple suddenly run short. The ink holder was picked up with a quick hand just to be thrown against the dirty wall, sending black drops of ink to scatter around the corner. Face frozen in a smile of sour satisfaction, she watched as the black droplets started their serpentine way down the wall.

"So... what one must do to make a living in this cursed city?"