Baldur's Gate:
Intro:
Nestled atop the cliffs that rise from the Sword Coast, the citadel of Candlekeep houses the finest and most comprehensive collection of writings on the face of Faerыn. It is an imposing fortress, kept in strict isolation from the intrigues that occasionally plague the rest of the Forgotten Realms. It is secluded, highly regimented, and it is home.
Within these hallowed halls of knowledge your story begins. You have spent most of your 20 years of life within this keep’s austere walls, under the tutelage of the sage Gorion. Acting as your father, he has raised you on a thousand tales of heroes and monsters, lovers and infidels, battles and tragedies. However, one story was always left untold: that of your true heritage. You have been told that you are an orphan, but your past is largely unknown.
Lately, Gorion has been growing distant from you, as if some grave matter ways heavily on his heart. You have asked about his concerns as gently as possible, but your queries have been in vain. Your sole comfort is the knowledge that he is a wise man, and you know he will tell you when the time is right. Nonetheless, his silence is troubling and you cannot help but feel that something is terribly wrong…
Today, Gorion has appeared more agitated than ever, and now he has uncharacteristically interrupted your chores in the middle of the day. Imparting hurried instructions for you to equip yourself for travel, he has handed you what gold he can spare, but has given no clue as to why. Nevertheless, you now stand before the Candlekeep Inn, ready to purchase what you need for an unplanned and unexpected journey.
History of Halruaa
Halruaa was settled centuries ago by wizards fleeing the Phaerimm in what was to become the Anauroch desert. The first wizards came in unique flying ships invented by the Netheril, and found a beautiful and rich country settled only by shepherds and large herds of aurochs and wild rothe. It was here that the wizards decided to make a stand should the Phaerimm follow. The Phaerimm never did, but Halruaa has had to defend itself from attacks by all of its neighbors since then. Over the centuries Dambrath has attacked and raided Halruaa's ports and borders multiple times.
Once, led by a magic resistant barbarian, the Dambraii occupied all of the country south of Lake Halruaa. They were defeated in battle by the great archmage Mycontil, who slew their barbarian leader. Forty thousand Dambraii attacked, and were stopped by 500 Halruans. More than 200 Halruan wizards, including Mycontil, died in the battle. The last attack upon Halruaa was less than 100 years ago, through the Telath Pass by the power hungry king of Lapaliiya. He had allied with bandits from the wastes, though this time the Halruans were able to field a larger force, including fighting men as well as wizards in their skyships. The attackers were easily routed.
Halruaa also suffered through a civil war about five centuries ago, when a number of mages advocated beginning new experiments in magic, ones which even the Netherese didn't approve of. The renegades were driven from the region, but went on to found the land of Thay, or so it is said in Halruaa. Since then, Halruaa has been at peace (they have had no declared wars), though it still suffers raids from Dambraii pirates, bandits of the wastes, savages from the Mhair Jungles, and any other pirate, raider, or hungry wizard who thinks that magic and wealth grow on trees in Halruaa. This constant raiding has made the Halruans very defensive, warlike and traditional. The people say that since wizards have always led them, wizards always will.
Chapter One: The Road
The dawn is especially cruel this morning.
You awake with the realization that you have not been having some horrible dream. Ambushed, you saw Gorion cut down before your eyes, and even his powerful magic could not stop the onslaught. It was his wish that you flee, but that does not remove the feeling of helplessness that now overwhelms you.
"Hand over your ward," the armored fiend had said. He was after you and you alone, but why? If only Gorion had given some clue, but now you are alone and lost. Candlekeep is near, but you will find no quarter there. The readers pay for their serenity with rather draconian entry rules, and without Gorion's influence their doors will remain closed.
You will not last long on your own with your meager equipment. Perhaps you can get some help from the friend Gorion mentioned, the one at the Alliance Arms Inn.
"When asked about her past, Imoen slaps your shoulder playfully. She says that you of all people should know, seeing as how you grew up together. Indeed, some of your fondest memories are of meeting this sprightly young lass. She apparently came to Candlekeep much as you did, though 10 years later in life, and she spent much more time with the guff Winthrop than Gorion. "Puffguts" she would call him, much to the old innkeep's dismay.
She seems the eternal child, and is quite content to play the part of little sister, though you are both of comparative ages. You can tell by her hearty smile that she will always be willing to travel with you, no matter what path you take."
My friend Gorion,
Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting the events have been increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time has come when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering at this point. Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point.
Should things go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can.
Luck be with us all. I'm getting too old for this.
E
History of the Fateful Coin
Old tales tell that luck plays a crucial role in each person's life. When each newborn baby enters into the Realms, Tymora flips a coin formed from the remnants of the original goddess of luck, Tyche. Beshaba calls it in the air - the moon (heads) or the cloak (tails). If Beshaba is right, that person is cursed with misfortune for the rest of his or her days. If she's wrong, Lady Luck smiles on that child for the rest of his or her life. For some rare beings, the coin lands edge on - and these luckless few can forge their own fates, for they have more freedom over their destinies than the powers themselves.
History of the Unicorn Run:
Bards and sages pass down the tale that the headwaters of the Unicorn Run are, in truth, the Font of Life, and a cradle of fecundity. Each natural race is said to have emerged from the womb of Chauntea onto Toril at the river's source, and then traveled down the Unicorn Run to the outside world. Some say that a daughter of Chauntea resides at the river's source to usher the newborns into the world, while others claim that Shialla midwifes the process.
Regardless of the truth, the elves, korreds, and halflings all agree that the Unicorn Run is sacred to life and a site of incredible purity. As a result, all three races have strong taboos about extended trips up the run, for if the river is ever fouled, then no new races will ever be born on Toril again.
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@310733 = ~Chapter Two: Isolation
You awake with the realization that you have not been having some horrible dream. Ambushed, you saw Gorion cut down before your eyes, and even his powerful magic could not stop the onslaught. It was his wish that you flee, but that does not remove the feeling of helplessness that now overwhelms you.
"Hand over your ward," the armored fiend had said. He was after you and you alone, but why? If only Gorion had given some clue, but now you are alone and lost. Candlekeep is near, but you will find no quarter there. The readers pay for their serenity with rather draconian entry rules, and without Gorion's influence their doors will remain closed.~
//AR3700.BCS, AR3800.BCS
/*JOURNAL - @15836*/
@310734 = ~Chapter Three: Trouble in Nashkel
With your hurried flight from Candlekeep barely behind you, the troubles facing the Sword Coast seem an unfamiliar blur to your fractured nerves. Gorion would not have you sit idle, however, and perhaps investigating local concerns will shed some light on your own predicament. How the iron shortage or the trouble in the Nashkel mines could possibly be linked to you, you have no idea.~
//AR4405.BCS
/*JOURNAL - @15837*/
@310735 = ~Chapter Four: Bandits and the Iron Shortage
It is certain that the death of Mulahey will relieve the fears of the terrorized folk of Nashkel, but you remain uneasy. While the half-orc may indeed have caused the evils that befell the mine, the shortage of iron is too widespread to be his doing alone. His letters confirm your suspicions, and though they give little indication as to where his cohorts are hiding, they may have links to the bandits that currently plague the Coast Way.~
//AR8701.BCS
/*JOURNAL - @15838*/
@310736 = ~Chapter Five: To the Cloakwood
Mulahey and Tazok have proven to be nothing more than puppets; the true master of this unfolding mystery continues to elude you. One thing is certain; someone has taken a very personal interest in seeking your death, though why, you are not sure. Your search for answers continues, and the foreboding Cloakwood forest is your next target.~
//AR8603.BCS
/*JOURNAL - @15839*/
@310737 = ~Chapter Six: To Baldur's Gate
You have dealt a great blow to the organization known as the Iron Throne; a defeat that you are certain will not be ignored. Now you must travel to the great city of Baldur's Gate, where you are certain to find the truth behind the strange plot that plagues the citizens of the Sword Coast.~
//DELTAN.DLG
/*JOURNAL - @15840*/
@310738 = ~Chapter Seven: Return to Candlekeep
Your journey has come full circle. Duke Eltan has asked that you travel back to Candlekeep, where you must spy upon the leaders of the Iron Throne. While it troubles you that such evil men now make use of the great library, and you wish the circumstances of your visit would be different, it will still be a pleasure to return to your former home.~
//AR6526.BCS
/*JOURNAL - @15841*/
@310739 = ~Chapter Eight: Endgame
Life continues to be quite the challenge. You have been accused of murdering the Iron Throne leaders, and the Flaming Fist will undoubtedly hound your every step because of it. Despite all of this, you must return to the city of Baldur's Gate, the very lair of your accusers. You must find and expose the one who is responsible for your predicament; you must find Sarevok.~
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Dreams of the Sword Coast
You do not dream often, but tonight the visions are vivid, indeed. Long have you walked, but now you find yourself back amid the stones of Candlekeep. Your former home looms before you, but the gate is closed and barred. Over the walls, there is a candle in your old room, but as the light goes out, the brick surrounding the window closes together. The very walls conspire to keep you at bay.
A familiar voice startles you, though it is calm and caring, "You cannot go back this way, child. You must go on." Gorion forms before you, and though his image should be comforting, it seems but a shade of his living self. He is dead in your dreams, as in life.
The fantom of your foster father gestures toward the blackness of the wood, as though it should be inviting. Perhaps, it is, in a way, but the traveling will be hard. As you think this, a smooth and obvious path becomes clear out of the corner of your eye. It seems meant for you, pulls at your very being, and promises to quickly lead you away from the life you once led. Perhaps this would be for the best, but it is a bit too convenient for your liking. You do not wish to dwell upon the loss you have endured, but neither should it be forgotten. Gorion smiles, and fades away.
The pull becomes a push, but you turn away, steadfast in your new direction. The way is not quite as clear, but it is sure to be interesting nonetheless. A whisper follows as you stride away, something vestigial and sinister that you recognize, but yet have never heard, "You will learn..."
You do not look back.
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees after having arrived to Nashkel for the first time. The special power granted: Cure Light Wounds, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Larloch's Minor Drain, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
Click to zoom out, once the page is fully loaded
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You are startled out of sleep with a chill, though the night is warm and calm. It is as though someone has walked across your grave, and more for a moment you wonder if it was you. With this thought, the ground beneath you opens, and you are swept into the dark.
When light returns, you do not find its presence comforting. Before you lay the empty mines of Nashkel, cleansed by your previous passage. You move through walls and floors alike, descending deeper and deeper, until a bloated figure comes into view. Mulahey, in no better shape than you left him, stands motionless before you.
Held from whatever afterlife calls it, this foul apparition has been waiting for you. A dagger of bone hovers before it, ready for a willing hand to drive it deep. Had this creature breath, you are sure it would be hurling curses. It waits for the kill, a death beyond death, and knows no hope.
You turn your back on the blade, and it clatters to the floor. Punishment enough shall find this creature in the land of the dead; you need not inflict any more upon him.
Surprised and thankful, the visage of Mulahey hobbled forward and through you, off to whatever fate it deserves. Perhaps for safekeeping, it leaves a part of itself behind. It is a spark of hope that fills a space within you: a dagger-shaped hole you did not know was empty.
There is a cry of rage from the depths, and the dagger of bone launches itself through the air, your heart its target. You awake just as it would have struck, and the cold sweat that covers you stings your eyes. A disapproving voice lingers in your ears, though it should have disappeared with the dream. "You... WILL... learn!"
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees after having solved the mystery of the Nashkel Mines. The special power granted: Cure Light Wounds, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Larloch's Minor Drain, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
Click to zoom out, once the page is fully loaded
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As darkness falls, your mind drifts back to events past, and to conquests well won indeed. The feared and fabled bandits that have plagued the entire coast are as dust beneath you. You stride through their camp, ignoring their attacks and scattering tents and bodies as you go.
Your recollections are interrupted without impact or fanfare, as the earth opens to accept your passage. The cascading rock and gravel prevents your escape, and in a moment all is black. For all you know, you have descended to the very core of the world.
The walls around you illuminate, and a cavern slowly takes shape, though you can see no more than a few steps ahead or behind. Stumbling forward, you find yourself face to face with... yourself.
Before you is a likeness in stone exact to the smallest detail. A voice in the darkness accuses you, even as it seems amused. "Such pride undeserved, great conqueror, when your whole being is borrowed. Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded."
A dagger of bone flies from the blackness and strikes the statue, square. It cracks slightly, but the pain you feel is as though you were rent asunder.
"You were made as you are," taunts the voice, "and you can also be broken." You fall backward into the void, and do not come to rest until morning wakes you.
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees after having reached the Bandit Camp and having read the letters from the Tazok's tent. The special power granted: Neutralize Poison, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Ghoul's Touch, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
Click to zoom out, once the page is fully loaded
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Tonight you dream of blood. Not of blood on a blade or the blood on your hands, but an ichor that runs as a torrent through the Realms. A flood that pours across the fields and forests. An ocean that floats you to the world's edge, and threatens to cascade off into the void.
The blood seems a frightening thing: a massive force that sweeps away all resistance. As a whole it is a monster and it cannot be stopped. Were it to be viewed from on high, it would seem to cover the entire world in its red-black embrace.
You, however, do not have such a lofty perch. From within the deluge you can see it does not move as one, but is filled with currents, eddies, and undertows. Pockets of calm afford breathing space, whilst violent whirlpools threaten to rend limb from limb. Ultimately it seems undirected, mindless, and meandering. You may be caught within, but there are still options open: still choices to be made.
The tide presses on, but you press back. Let the blood rage, as it will: you are in control of what is yours, and that is all you can ask.
A sudden and deliberate wave puts an end to your course, and to the dream. It would seem that the flood does have some will, and took offense to your enjoying the ride.
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees after having defeated Davaeorn in the Cloakwood Mines. The special power granted: Neutralize Poison, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Ghoul's Touch, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
Click to zoom out, once the page is fully loaded
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You close your eyes tonight, and visions of Candlekeep swim into view. As you pass through the gates of the citadel, there is a flash of memory, and you are a child of only a few seasons once more. At your side is Gorion, gray-haired even all those years ago. How old must he have been to age so little in the time since?
Aged as he ever was, you still have to run to keep up with him. He has an important meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of Tomes: an important meeting about you. Funny, you don't remember it.
As you stand outside the doors of the inner keep, you can hear the shouting from within. Gorion seldom raised his voice, though you did not care to listen to the "discussions" at your previous stops either.
As you trace patterns in the water of a fountain, a reflection distracts you from the argument. A large raven has perched atop a stone wall, and stares directly at you with huge black eyes. You stare back through the mirror of the water, and are suddenly afraid to meet the bird's gaze any other way. It has claws for feet, you think to yourself: little skeletal claws.
The doors of the keep suddenly swing open, and Ulraunt storms out. He glances at you for a moment, but looks away as he speaks. "You both can stay," he sneers, "but mark my words. That child will be the death of you."
A flash of memory once more, and Gorion walks out of the keep as he is today: dead. You drop your gaze back to the water so as not to see. The raven is gone, but your own image remains. Your eyes are black, like those of a bird.
"Like father, like child," the reflection says.
You wake with a yell, predictably unrested.
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees when it's time to return to Candlekeep. The special power granted: Draw Upon Holy Might, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Vampiric Touch, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
Click to zoom out, once the page is fully loaded
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Tonight you sleep hunted by all, and wake in a dream hunted by one.
Tonight you are the monster everyone claims you are: the kobold scorned like a rodent; the ogre that children fear comes in the night. The mobs and their torches now come for you, counting you among the creatures you once did hunt. Or so someone would have you believe.
Once again you hear the voice; a voice that now makes no secret of its origins. It speaks of destiny and nature, and of evils bred in the bone. It says you will never be free of the mob; that they will hunt you for what you are. Murder and death run through your heart, and accepting that will supposedly give you power. The essense of Bhaal within you cannot be ignored.
But you have not ignored it. You realize that from the first you have fought the very blood in your veins, fought dagger and claw for each victory, and ultimately you have triumphed. With righteous will, you have turned the dark forces within you to good purpose. Whatever the foundation of your being, you have remade yourself in your own image.
Amidst threats it does not yet know are emtpy, the voice tries to play upon your doubts, but finds none. As you stare unwavering, the presence grows weaker and weaker. As it fades from your mind, one warning does stand out amidst the din. It speaks of others that will listen where you have not, others that will embrace what you have rejected, and others that will be your death. This describes but one man, and you know of no other it could be. He who orchestrated your fall, deceived your comrades, and deserves all that your justice shall mete upon him. Sarevok.
His is a debt that must be paid to the whole of the Sword Coast. You awake sure of your cause, and of what must be done.
Comment: This dream the protagonist sees when it's time to return to Candlekeep. The special power granted: Draw Upon Holy Might, if the reputation is 10 or higher; Vampiric Touch, if the reputation is 9 or lower.
charecters
http://www.sorcerers.net/Games/BG/npcs.php
Dream1 Good
You do not dream often, but tonight the visions are vivid indeed. Long have you walked, but now you find yourself back amidst the stones of Candlekeep. Your former home looms before you, but the gate is closed and barred. Over the walls there is a candle in your old room, but as the light goes out, the brick surrounding the window closes together. The very walls conspire to keep you at bay.
A familiar voice startles you, though it is calm and caring. "You cannot go back this way, child. You must go on." Gorion forms before you, and though his image should be comforting, it seems but a shade of his living self. He is dead in your dreams, as in life.
The phantom of your foster father gestures towards the blackness of the wood as though it should be inviting. Perhaps it is, in a way, but the traveling will be hard. As you think this, a smooth and obvious path becomes clear out the corner of your eye. It seems meant for you, pulls at your very being, and promises to quickly lead you away from the life you once led. Perhaps this would be for the best, but it is a bit too convenient for your liking. You do not wish to dwell upon the loss you have endured, but neither should it be forgotten. Gorion smiles, and fades away.
The pull becomes a push, but you turn away, steadfast in your new direction. The way is not quite as clear, but it is sure to be interesting nonetheless. A whisper follows as you stride away, something vestigial and sinister that you recognize, but yet have never heard. "You will learn..."
You don't look back.
Dream1 Evil
You do not dream often, but tonight the visions are vivid indeed. Long have you walked, but now you find yourself back amidst the stones of Candlekeep. Your former home looms before you, the drab walls just as you remember them. Over the barricades you can see your old room, and you wonder if it really was as small as it appears now.
As you stand before the keep, a familiar figure comes into view. Gorion stands before you, but his visage is shadowy and weak. He is dead in your dreams, as in life.
The phantom of your foster father mutely walks towards the woods, towards supposed safety, and beckons for you to follow as he did once before. This time you remain behind, knowing what is to come.
Before your eyes, phantoms of the past re-enact the pathetic scene that must have taken place in your absence. Clad in armor assuredly magical, a figure strides from the darkness. Admittedly a powerful mage in his youth, Gorion is all but helpless before the onslaught. As he falls, the scene begins again, replaying over and over. Each successive viewing makes the unknown warrior all the more impressive.
As you stare at the murderer of your former mentor, one thought coalesces in your mind: you will have such power as this. Whatever it takes, you will have all that he does, and more. With that, a passage becomes clear through the darkened wood, and you wonder how you could have missed it. The trees close behind you as you walk, but you are unconcerned. The path feels right, and will assuredly give you what you seek. It seems to promise this in a voice you know, but yet have never heard.
The image of Gorion's death replays in your mind throughout the night.
You get used to it.
Dream2 Good
You are startled out of sleep with a chill, though the night is warm and calm. It is as though someone has walked across your grave, and for a moment you wonder if it was you. With this thought the ground beneath you opens and you are swept into the dark.
When light returns, you do not find its presence comforting. Before you lay the empty mines of Nashkel, cleansed by your previous passage. You move through walls and floors alike, descending deeper and deeper, until a bloated figure comes into view. Mulahey, in no better shape than you left him, stands motionless before you.
Held from whatever afterlife calls it, this foul apparition has been waiting for you. A dagger of bone hovers before it, ready for a willing hand to drive it deep. Had this creature breath you are sure it would be hurling curses. It waits for the kill, a death beyond death, and knows no hope.
You turn your back on the blade, and it clatters to the floor. Punishment enough shall find this creature in the land of the dead; you need not inflict any more upon him.
Surprised and thankful, the visage of Mulahey hobbles forward and through you, off to whatever fate it deserves. Perhaps for safekeeping, it leaves a part of itself behind. It is a spark of hope that fills a space within you; a dagger-shaped hole you did not know was empty.
There is a cry of rage from the depths, and the dagger of bone launches itself though the air, your heart its target. You awake just as it should have struck, and the cold sweat that covers you stings your eyes. A disapproving voice lingers in your ears, though it should have disappeared with the dream. "You...WILL...Learn!"
Dream2 Evil
The stone tunnels of the Nashkel mines constrain your dreams tonight. The twisting depths are more a nuisance than claustrophobic now, what with the hidden marauders dead at your feet. Deeper you tread, chuckling over your triumph at each body you see, pausing occasionally to wipe your boots clean or check the odd kobold for coins you might have missed.
There is a sound from below and you quickly move towards it. A door opens and before you stands Mulahey in no better shape than you left him. Held from whatever afterlife calls it, this specter has apparently been waiting for you. A dagger of bone hovers before it, ready for a willing hand to drive it deep. Had this creature breath you are sure it would be hurling curses. It waits for the kill, a death beyond death, and knows no hope. Rightfully so.
You brush aside the quaint blade and bring your hands around the creature's neck. A stranger's weapon simply will not suffice in this matter; you must be certain this phantom remains among the dead. It is strange though; doomed as he is, Mulahey still looks somewhat relieved. His visage fades within your grasp and leaves you clutching at empty air. A puzzling turn, but of little concern. The mine is yours once again.
You turn to leave, but find the exit blocked. The lone dagger has become five: a skeletal set of claws that hovers before you. A talon extends and presses against your chest, and a hollow voice chills the air. "You should use the tools you are given." It traces a line of ichor on your tunic, increasing in pressure. "Listen to what is bred in the bone." There is a flash of motion as the claws push deep into your chest.
You awake in an instant, the sound of morning a welcome clamor. You are intact and, though tired, you are certainly not afraid.
Your heart is not your weak spot.
