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

PAST

“So, you are the woman over which my city guards exchanged blows?”

Kalinka dipped her head, slightly graceful, slightly resentful.

“Strange.” The Warden shifted on his leather chair as he cast a skeptical eye upon her appearance. “I don’t see a reason why three of my best men are out of business for the next few days. But a little bird told me they had a helping hand.”

Kalinka maintained eye contact.

Was she seeking to establish dominance over him, even as she were his prisoner? Robert couldn’t tell. Normally he had no issues whatsoever to read people rather quickly, but this one seemed built different. So he decided to lean back and thoughtfully tapped his cheek with his forefinger. “Very well. I cannot set you free based upon physical comparance between you and my men. Since in this case there is obviously more going on than meets the eye. Regardless, I am willing to offer you a choice, miss Kalinka.”

She glanced over at the entrance through which the guards brought her in. And then slowly back at the man who sat on his chair on the elevated platform like he were a king.

The fact she furrowed an eyebrow pleased him. That means she was listening. “Either you go back through that door and find yourself cast in chains that will prevent you from doing anything you ever liked doing in life. Or… you accept the job I’m willing to offer you where you can do things you’ll probably like.”

He caught her completely off-guard. That he could tell by the way how she jerked her head to look back up at him. He chuckled soft to himself. “You’ll have to show me though how you work, so I can decide whether you’ll be useful or not.”



Two months later in the Great Hall of a modest castle. Knights clad in dark attires and gripping elegant shiny rapiers stood lined up at the center of the space. A silence had descended upon the men and the surrounding spectators. A seemingly invisible sign was given and soundless they began with the presentation of their fencing lessons. Their bodies seemed to work simultanously and more or less coordinated the knights slowly began to move over the floor.

But it’s only when the sound from a vielle rising up from somewhere behind the crowd that one could wonder about the knights’ own autonomy. Arms and legs responded to the tune of which each note felt like the delicate thread of an enchantment. It was as if the music infused their limbs, guiding them into a dance of macabre yet perfect synchronicity.

They may have been moving with an ethereal grace, but it was by looking at their eyes that something was off. They had the eyes of someone who was trapped in their own body. Even as they performed light as silk, twirling and swaying, and with rapiers cutting through air in intricate patterns, it was clear there was more to this dazzling performance than meets the eye. They were like leaves carried on a breeze, but then one could have spotted a flicker of surprise in their eyes at the ease and harmony with which they did their bladedance. A smile tugged at the corners of another knight’s lips. He was clearly experiencing joy.

The melody resumed like a gentle caress, guiding them through this intricate choreography with a touch as light as a whisper. And it worked infectious as soon the ladies of the knights joined in the dance. Only when the final notes of the play faded, the pairs came to a graceful halt. Rapiers were lowered to salute their enchanting conductor, now standing over on the platform next to the Warden and the Baron.

There was a moment of awe-inspired silence. But then, then as if waking from a beautiful dream, the Baron and other people broke into a heartfelt, enthusiastic round of applause. Even the knights joined in.

It was funny cause… it was as if hands clapped in rhythm with the residual echoes of the Kalinka’s music...

DEEPER PAST

Just like certain pretty appearances, music always has had an impact on people’s emotions. And when the two are combined with alcohol, a powder keg is created. All that is required then is this tiny little spark…

When the bardess rejected yet another fortune seeker, but accepted one drink from a patron by the counter… well, a small misunderstanding is often all that it takes.

She ceased strumming her instrument and looked at the two guys arguing at the bar.

“Why? Youf think youf better than me? Youf saw I was busy with her and then youf had a drink delivered behind my back!”

The man against whom he was up got from his stool. He appeared a head taller and didn’t waste any time. A hand smacked against a shoulder. “Back up, you little moron.”

But the first guy wasn’t easily intimidated and gave the taller one a push. With just enough force to make him drop against yet another patron. Glasses with beer shattered on the floor.

“Stop it…” Kalinka started as the back and forth pushing continued, now involving three patrons. She raised her voice a bit. “I said… stop it!”

The men appeared deaf to her request and carried on with what they were doing.

“STOP IT NOW!” That drew at least the attention of some patrons but still not the ones who were about to get real.

“FINE!! Have it your way!” At first her music was soft, but as the tension and shouting between the three men increased, so did the sound from her instrument.


The atmosphere in the tavern gradually shifted. At first there still had been laughter, but things were getting more tense and the air grew charged with energy. Fingers danced over the strings of her instrument, each note a spark that ignited deeper emotions among the patrons.

The small misunderstanding over at the bar had already escalated, but with the music worked like a domino effect that spread across the space. The effects were different. Some patrons leaped from their seats, others tried to intervene. And some were eager to join the fray. Not soon after tables were being overturned, mugs and plates were sent crashing towards people’s heads and the floor.

Within minutes the place was filled with a cacophony of shouts, curses, and the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh. Chairs scrape across the wooden floor and once broken were being used as makeshift weapons and shields. The occasional high-pitched crash of glass punctuated the ongoing melee.

Eventually the colorful attire of patrons blurred together, colors swirling as people grappled and tumbled. The dim flickering light from torches and candles above cast wild shadows on the walls.

One figure seemed untouched by the chaos. Her eyes gleamed with a strange satisfaction as she watched the scene unfold whilst her fingers deftly plucked strings in that relentless rhythm.

MORE RECENT PAST

“Well, well, if it isn’t the sorceress of sound.” A voice sounded behind her.

Kalinka turned around and her gaze met this seemingly ordinary man.

“Oh please, you don’t have to react. Your reputation precedes you regardless. And that while nobody… really almost nobody looks suspicious at you when you visit a place. Is that because you have that typical tune you whistle and get ahead of things?”

The woman whom Beco had addressed frowned at him.

“I did a little bit of investigation, and interviewed a couple of people among other things. Your talent is really unique you know. One guy testified, and I quote : ‘I experienced a surge of confidence’. Whereas another person at the same event explained she was filled with dread. Like as if every danger, every potential pitfall she could come across was highlighted. And yet another ‘attendee’ could only experience sinister intentions and cravings.”

Beco hopped on the barstool next to her and pointed his finger at her. “You do know how to warp or enhance perceptions, young lady. But I wonder if you even realize why this happens. Yes, sure, you somehow discovered that you could. Yet the why or the how, have you ever figured it out?”

Kalinka shook her head. “I have no idea who you are, or why you think this may be important information to me.”

“Hah! Well! Have you never listened to a song yourself in the past?”

He loved how the young woman frowned.

“Oh yes, Kalinka. There is a chance you have been caught by a tune yourself. And you too are not aware that you are being haunted by the echoes of a song from a long time ago.”

“Wait… mister, are you telling me I’ve sort of been lived through the strings of an unknown puppeteer? Pulling at -my- emotions, manipulating my choices?”

Beco nodded. “Sort of. Though you make it sound like a traditional puppeteer who controls puppets with precision. I’m afraid the influence is more unpredictable. It’s more complex, both powerful… and tragic.”

“I’m not sure who’d have such power even.” She sounded uncertain.

“Says the herald of Black Bess.”

MORE RECENT EVENT :

Kalinka had seen this man before, and she hated him. He was a self-styled pimp who treated his female workers with a cruelty even hardened criminals whispered about. So she watched him closely.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit ‘pleasure-alley’ was oppressive, tinged with the scent of unwashed bodies and cheap perfume. She leaned against a stone wall, casually, semi out of view, her storm-grey eyes observing a group of women shuffling past her. Their faces bore the marks of not only exhaustion but also physical symptoms of abuse. Behind them came the man, strutting confidently, a sneer curling his lips as he barked orders at his ‘staff’. Kalinka tilted her head. To her, the sound of his boots echoed like a cruel drumbeat.

She stepped away from the shadowy wall and announced her presence behind him with a cough. The man froze and turned over.

His sneer deepened into a glare. “What? What do you want, lass?”

Dark hair fell over her shoulder as she motioned towards the group of women. “Only to warn you. Keep treating these like you are doing, and you’ll find yourself soon in more trouble than just a bad breath. Misfortune tends to catch up especially with men like yourself.”

The pimp blinked and then let out a harsh laugh. “Trying to scare me with spooky talk? These girls are mine, and believe me, they know their place.” He motioned behind him. “You know what? Ask them yourself.”

Kalinka glanced over at the women. “Well, what do you think, girls. Is this your place?”

One of them hesitated, her lips trembling as if to speak but one glare of the pimp seemed enough to silence her.

“See? They are not going anywhere.” He turned back to Kalinka. “Now, get lost before I change my mind.”

Her fingers twitched as she stood silent in disbelief. Eventually she nodded. “Very well. But mark my words. One day… your luck will run out.”



Days later…

Kalinka traversed the same area when she overheard a commotion. She peeked around the corner and saw the group of women again, this time cowering. One of them clutched her face where a fresh bruise was blooming. The pimp stood over her, raining down obscenities.

Kalinka’s patience snapped. She stepped forward, didn’t even bother to speak this time. Instead, she began a hum. Something low, and eerie, a tune that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the narrow street. The group of women ceased to tremble and cower. Their eyes turned to her, glazed and unfocused.

The pimp’s sneer faltered. “Wh.. what are you doing??”

The melody swelled and turned rhythmic, like a clockwork. The women’s bodies jerked as if strings were attached to their limbs. They started to pick up thin loose bamboo sticks, pulling them upright and then turned towards the pimp. They moved like marionettes, and if one were to observe them closely one might detect an occasional flicker of terror in their eyes. As if they had moments where they attempted to fight against their own movements.

“St… stop! What are you doing?!?” The pimp yelled, backing as the women advanced.

Kalinka didn’t respond, and her tune only grew sharper. The women tremored, their knuckles white as they gripped their makeshift weapons.

The man’s bravado crumbled as he stumbled back, trapped within the advancing circle. “You’ll... you’ll pay for this! All… all of you!” He shrieked, but his words sounded hollow at this point.

The women raised their sticks, bodies quivering with effort, but whether this was due their attempts to fight the magic, or to empower what was coming next was yet to be seen.

“Tick - tock…” Kalinka’s eyes gleamed coldly as her melody reached its crescendo. The man’s back hit the wall and the women closed in until his body drowned in their shadows.

VERY RECENT EVENT :

The port was as bustling as one can expect. But even this constant movement and chatter couldn’t distract her from the steady series of bad luck that seemed to follow her. Ships. Ships enough! And not only that. The ships lining the harbor were impressive—sleek merchant vessels, sturdy warships, and even a few ramshackle fishing boats. But despite their numbers, none seemed willing or able to take her to Baldur’s Gate.

Her first attempt to book passage had been met with polite and understandable apologies; the ship’s schedule had been abruptly changed, and it was headed to Neverwinter instead. The second captain she approached laughed in her face, claiming his ship was booked solid for months.The third then had seemed promising until… well, just as she was about to hand over her payment, a sudden brawl erupted between two deckhands, overturning the captain’s desk and scattering coins and papers everywhere. By the time the ship was normally to sail off, the captain had decided to call the harborguard and cancelled all new bookings.

“Beshaba, you witch,” Kalinka muttered under her breath, clutching her quarterstaff tightly as she stomped away from the docks for what felt like the hundredth time. Days passed, and her frustration grew. Every morning she returned to the harbor, scouring for a ship bound for Baldur’s Gate, only to be thwarted by some ridiculous twist of fate.


On the fifth day, as the sun started its lazy descent into the ocean, her luck seemed to shift. A grizzled old dockhand, perhaps pitying her persistence, referred her toward the southern quay. “Captain Orlen’s ship,” the man grumbled, jerking a thumb pointing over his shoulder. “He’s headed to Baldur’s. Still got room, I reckon. If ya quick enough.”

And quick she was. Kalinka’s boots slapped against the cobblestones as she hurried to the quay in question. But as she approached, the scene at the location gave her pause. Chaos reigned. A group of harbor workers swarmed around the ship, ostensibly loading and unloading cargo, though it was hard to tell amid the shouting and confusion how things were arranged. Crates teetered dangerously in the air, some crashing to the cobblestones with alarming frequency. A loud crack signaled another shattered container, its contents spilling across the dock. Nearby, two workers were locked in a shouting match that escalated into a scuffle, while others stood idly by, uncertain of what to do.

Who the hell was coordinating this??

Her gaze shifted towards the center of it all. There stood a man Kalinka assumed was Captain Orlen. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and his face was flushed with frustration as he barked orders that no one seemed to heed. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperation etched into every line of his face.

Kalinka took in the scene and shook her head. It was a mess, but in a certain way it was her kind of mess. Chaos was an old friend, and she knew how to bend it to her will. Adjusting her cloak, she strode forward.

“Captain Orlen?” she called out, her voice cutting through the noise. He turned to her, his expression one of irritation.

“What? Who are you?” he demanded.

She briefly studied him. This man looked as if he was ready for the gallows rather than staying in this for another hour. “Kalinka.” she said, offering a slight bow. “I hear you’re heading to Baldur’s Gate. I’d like to book passage. But first...” She gestured toward the pandemonium around them. “Looks like you’ve got a few issues.”

“You don’t say,” he muttered, throwing up his hands. “All those fancy ships claimed the last of the available dockworkers. And these idiots here don’t know a hawser from a ladder. Half the cargo’s already ruined, and we’re losing daylight. I don’t have time for this!”

Kalinka’s smirk widened. “Lucky for you, I’m good at working with small crowds. If you mind.”

“Please, be my guest.” The captain crossed his arms with a skeptical expression.

She stepped forward, her eyes flashing with confidence. Twirling her quarterstaff, she began to hum a low, resonant tune. Its sound carried over the chaos, drawing the attention of the workers one by one. Her voice rose, weaving magic into her melody. The discordant shouts faded, and were replaced by a peculiar harmony.

Heavy crates that had taken multiple workers to maneuver were now lifted with coordinated effort, balanced as if weightless as they were handed down a line. Smaller goods were carried with swift precision, each worker seeming to anticipate the next’s move. The air was filled with the rhythmic thuds of crates landing safely and securely in their designated spots, accompanied by the workers’ synchronized grunts and murmurs. Some even began humming along with Kalinka’s tune, the melody weaving its way into their every motion.

Even the most awkward worker found their footing, adjusting their stance as if guided by an unseen hand. One worker, who had nearly toppled a stack of barrels earlier, now rolled them expertly into place without a single wobble. The chaos dissipated entirely, replaced by an almost mesmerizing display of productivity and grace.

Captain Orlen stared, his arms falling next to his body, his mouth agape. “What th… ?”

“Tick - tock … captain… tick - tock…” Was all Kalinka said, as if by that she was revealing the secret of her method.

Ah, finally. Baldur’s Gate!

Seagulls shrieked overhead, their cries blending well with the sound of waves rhythmically lapping against the jetty poles. Kalinka stepped off the gangplank, her dark hair falling in disarray about her face by the cool breeze. When she walked it was as if those strands were continuously teased into motion. Her eyes sparkled with a satisfaction only she seemed to understand.

She wasn’t alone however. Behind her, a young man followed closely, by the looks of it some kind of nobleman if one were to judge on his fine albeit travel-worn outfit. His steps were more hurried than hers, as if eager to keep up with the woman, his expression one of adoration bordering on worship.

“H... hey, Kalinka, wait up!” He huffed behind her as with him he carried one heavy bag and quickly reached out to grab hers. “H… here, let me help you with that.”

Oh right. She paused, tilting her head with a faint smirk. “Such a fine gentleman you are, Lucian,” Kalinka purred, handing over the bag with a deliberate slowness. “I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

Lucian Zarago was his full name, she reminded herself with a mental shrug. His name hardly mattered, but she was amused by the way how he blushed a furious shade of red and clutched her bag like it was the most precious artifact in all of Faerûn.

The pair walked through the bustling harbor, weaving between merchants hawking their wares and fishers shouting orders. The nobleman’s devotion was palpable, his gaze constantly darting to her as if she were the light itself, and for a fleeting moment, Kalinka let herself bask in it. Not that it was love, of course. But there was something delightfully intoxicating about how this guy displayed his adoration. Even if…

“Your presence, Kalinka,” he said softly just as they passed a troupe of street performers, “…it is like the world shines brighter when you’re near.”

The performers stared wide-eyed after Lucian before they started to laugh.

Kalinka laughed too, but her laughter was low and melodious, and it was capable of holding Lucian’s focus on her. “My oh my, you’re quite the poet, aren’t you, Lucian?”

He nearly stumbled over both his feet as well as his words, flustered by her attention. “I…I only speak the truth.”

Her amusement deepened. “Truth. Mmm. Such a fickle thing.”

The docks gave way to the cobblestone streets of another district in Baldur’s Gate, the city’s chaotic energy enveloping them both. Lucian continued to dote on her, oblivious to the knowing smiles and snickers from passersby. Kalinka paid them no mind, her thoughts instead flickering to what lay ahead.

As they eventually reached the market square, she suddenly stopped and turned over, catching Lucian off guard. She stepped close, too close, her stormy eyes locking onto his with an intensity that nearly made him freeze.

“Lucian,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, hypnotic timbre. “You’ve been so kind to me. I hope you know how much that means.”

His lips parted, a soft, reverent ‘of course’ escaping, but before he could say more, she leaned in and pressed a hand gently to his chest.
“Close your eyes.”

He did so.

“Now,” she whispered, “...you should go.”

For a moment, confusion clouded his features. Then, slowly, a flicker of realization dawned, his expression faltering. “Go?” he echoed, his voice trembling as he opened his eyes.

But the woman was gone. Lucian looked around, unable to fight the dawning horror in his eyes. “N.. no, this… this can’t be…”

His shattered heart was nothing more like a piece of driftwood bumping against the shores, before being carried away in the turbulent ocean that was the bustling chaos of Baldur’s Gate.