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

Foreword

In the whispering winds of time, there exist tales spun from the threads of memory, woven into the intricate tapestry of our lives. These stories, dear reader, are not mere fragments of imagination but the echoes of experiences lived, of journeys taken, and of lessons learned. They are the reflections of a pair of boots traversing the paths of existence, encountering shadows and light alike.

As an elven woman whose steps have graced the earth for centuries untold, I have walked paths both illuminated by the sun's gentle caress and shrouded in the darkness of the unknown evils. Among the countless number of beings that have crossed my path, few have evoked such complex emotions and fears as the incomprehensible feline.

In this collection of 'tails', poems, and fables, I invite you to embark upon a journey where the feline presence looms large and casts its shadow upon the landscape of my memories. Each story is but a fragment of truth, a part of a bigger 'tail', a glimpse into the intricate dance between myself and these plotting creatures of terror and mystery.

From the earliest stirrings of my memories to the present moment, the threads of fate have woven a tapestry of encounters with cats that have left their scars upon my life. Fear, distrust, and dislike—emotions as ancient as time itself—have mingled with curiosity, morbid fascination, and even fleeting moments of kinship.

As you delve into these pages, may you tread softly, for within them lie not only the revelations of my own journey but also the timeless truths that should resonate within us all. And perhaps, dear reader, you may come to understand that the shadows we fear are often because they contain, the ever watchful eyes of a cat.

With every turn of the page, may the tales contained here serve as lanterns to illuminate the paths of your own journey.

~Vanira Talamora

Whiskered Intrigue: The Feline Felon

The young moon elf stood in the dimly lit alley, her keen eyes locked in a silent battle with the mischievous tabby cat that sat upon a pile of discarded crates. The feline's orange and black fur seemed to ripple with an air of slyness, its eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief that set the elf's nerves on edge. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the glint of silver dangling from the cat's mouth. A sense of urgency flooded her veins as she realized what had transpired: the cat had stolen the locket from the very house she had been casing.

Her small frame tensed, every muscle poised for action beneath her ragged attire. The elf's exposed pale skin seemed to glow softly in the moonlight filtering down through the alleyway, a stark contrast to the vibrant hues of the cat's fur. Her silvery white hair was pulled tightly back and shoved into a makeshift hood, though a few strands were woven into small braids that framed her face. The elf attempted to appear calm and unbothered, but her wintry blue eyes betrayed a deep sense of distrust as they bore into the cat before her.

With a subtle shift of her weight, the elf adjusted her stance, readying herself for whatever trickery the cat might attempt. A surge of frustration mingled with determination swept through her. She couldn't afford to let this setback derail her plans. Not when her acceptance into the local thieves guild hung in the balance. Failure was not an option, not when she had spent so long trying to gain their favor.

For several tense moments, the stare down continued, neither the elf nor the cat willing to break the quiet stillness of the night. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it was her ticket to acceptance, her key to a better chance at survival. Without it, she would be forced to flee yet again, seeking refuge in another village, starting over from scratch. One could not simply steal to survive if they did not have the approval of the local guild. That would only make an already hard life… harder… and that, that was something she did not need.

With a determined set to her jaw and a sudden swift stride forward, she advanced toward the cat, her eyes fixed on the stolen locket. Just as quick as the decision had been to make her move, she found herself face down on the cobblestone that had but a moment ago, been beneath her feet. Eyes still on the cat, her brows furrowed. The cat appeared unconcerned, remaining exactly where he had been. Then, with a flick of its tail and a mischievous glint in its eyes, the cat turned and darted off into the shadows, leaving the elf alone in the alleyway.
A deep nagging doubt crept into her mind. Was this truly the work of a mere cat, or was there something more sinister at play? It seemed almost too convenient, too perfectly timed to be a mere coincidence.

Shaking off her suspicions, the elf attempted to follow the cat, still determined to collect what she had been sent to collect. In a world where survival depended on cunning and skill, she knew that failure was not an option. Not if she wanted to carve out a place for herself in this unforgiving world. She would not give up.

"Claws of Chaos: The Unforeseen Battle at Friendly Arm Inn"

We were gathered around the campfire, not far from the protective walls of the Friendly Arm Inn, our laughter and tales of adventure filling the evening air. The fire crackled and danced, casting flickering shadows upon our faces as a shared meal cooked over the warm coals. Sjinn, a grumpy elf cloaked in shadows and mystery, sat beside me. Our voices were low as we engaged in a private conversation amidst the overall chatter of the adventurers resting, seeking respite from their journeys before they turned in for the night.

As a few others bid their farewells and retired for the night, leaving only five of us remaining, the shadows revealed three sets of reflective eyes. Feline eyes. The eyes... of the enemy. I tensed, alarmed by their sudden presence, but the others cooed and beckoned to the seemingly harmless cats. Two of them rolled onto their backs, basking in the attention of the adventurers, while the largest cat stood apart, its glare filled with malice. This was a trap of some kind, but none would heed the warning.

The night’s air was shattered as the largest cat let out a roar that sounded anything but feline. It was in that moment, that time seemed to distort as the cats transformed into troll rangers, known for their brutality and eagerness for destruction. Many caravans and adventurers have fallen to such creatures in the past and odds were that such fates would continue into the future.

Sjinn and I sprang into action, unsheathing our blades and darting into the shadows. With practiced precision, we emerged on either side of the troll, our blades slicing into its flesh. The other adventurers, caught off guard by the sudden transformation, scrambled to join the fray, their weapons clashing against the trolls' thick hides, a long battle only just beginning.

We were a blur of movement, dancing in and out of the shadows as we waged our deadly dance with the trolls. Had an onlooker paused at the horror of the battle, they might have found a bit of beauty in it. Despite our skill, the trolls' hides healed almost as quickly as our blades could damage them. And each time a troll fell, more cats-turned-trolls emerged, forming a formidable onslaught that tested the limits of our endurance.

"Meows," gurgled forth from the trolls' throats as they fell to the ground, the grotesque sound sending shivers down our spines. Why were they meowing as death came to them? It was unexpected and unnerving, especially for myself, with my deep-seated fear of cats. The reason behind the meow was a mystery... it is still a mystery, leaving us to speculate on the intentions behind such a bizarre utterance. Was it something done to mock us? Were the trolls simply still confused with their earlier feline shapes? Were they some blasphemes creature created with some perverted magics combining two creatures souls into one. Some twisted message from a deranged “finger waggler,” that had crossed paths with before, someone that then studied me enough to know of my fear?

When the battle finally ended, two of our campfire companions lay wounded on the ground, their injuries severe and in need of urgent attention. They were taken to the Inn, where rest would be found and wounds tended to. Even Sjinn and I had not emerged unscathed, we had both taken heavy blows, blacking out a few times during the strenuous melee. Thankfully, the guards from within Bently's walls arrived, wielding flamed weapons to finish off the trolls and prevent further trouble from the cats-turned-trolls. Had they not arrived when they did, the odds would be that I would not be here now to put my quill to parchment. Bently and his men, are certainly allies to be treasured.

As we surveyed the aftermath, no clues were found on the bodies to explain the sudden attack. All we were left with were the lingering echoes of battle and questions on which to ponder upon. We were also left with the clear message, the danger that is posed by cats and their troll counterparts. Neither are to be taken lightly in future endeavors.