--------------------------------------------------------
Prologue:
It was a dark night, in Baldur?s Gate, with a dreadful chill. And indeed it would be a dreadful night.
Fredrik Zurenbaun, or Fred, as he liked to call himself, stumbled out of the door. It was cold on the roof of the Iron Fist Guildhall, but cold was the least of Fred?s thought right now.
He turned around, his heart beating like crazy, when he heard the door open behind him. A tall figure came out, clad in black, spiked armor. His helmet was formed like a skull, with huge horns, and big teeth covering most of his face.
?You... you can?t do this!? Fred muttered as the figure came closer.
Then the armored figure spoke, with a deep and foul voice.
?I will be the last, and you will go first...?
Fred shrugged, and backed away. ?Please, there are others! I could show you! Please! PLEASE!?
Now the huge man stood before him, and lashed out at Fred?s head. Fred?s helmet fell off, and he got throwed to the gound by the man?s force.
A signle tear went hrough his face, and then the man grabbed him by the neck, and lift him up with one hand; to drag him towards the side of the roof, where iron bars with intricated designs on them kept people from falling off.
Fred kept gurgling and trying to free himself from the mighty grasp, while he felt how he was being slammed on the bars, breaking them.
Fred tried to free himself for the last time, and then blew out his last breath.
The armored man?s unatural unpupilled yellow eyes shone, and he laughed; a deep, evil laugh, and then dropped the smaller man, who now fell down five floors, right on the streets.
He chuckled once again, and then went back inside.
Baldur?s Gate
It was a warm summer afternoon, but Gorion couldn?t enjoy it. He was busy preparing everything for the journey he had to make with Darren. He sighed, and looked out of the window.hair and
There stood Darren, standing around in boredom instead of preparing himself.
Darren, his beloved foster child... Gorion knew that maybe he would loose him during this travel. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by memories about young Darren; even if he was still very young, for a half-elf. He remembered how Darren always wanted to become a wizard, even if Gorion doubted he could ever manage to become one. To be a wizard, concentration, discipline and patience was needed, all things the boy lacked.
Darren was the son of Haryalė, a travelling elf, and longtime friend of Gorion. Haryalė was a Ly?Tel?Quessir, a Lythari Elf, which meant that she could shapeshift into a wolf. Obviously Darren could do this too, but Gorion never told him, making him think his mother was a Moon Elf, to keep him out of trouble.
But the most noticeable feature of the young half-elf, was surely his green skin. Ofcourse Gorion, as well as all the Priests and most of the intellectual people in Candlekeep, knew that this was nothing harmful ? Darren was just a Forestlord Half-Elf, a descendant of primitive tribes of elves which made pacts with powerful Green Dragons ? but ofcourse the children and commoner travellers didn?t know that. And that was the main reason Darren didn?t have many friends when he was a kid, as most other children never wanted to play with ?the green kid.? But then, when Darren was ten, Imoen came to Candlekeep; they immediately became best friends ? and Gorion suspected they could be lovers now ? almost as if they instincively felt their similarity, their shared heritage. A heritage Gorion could not tell her about, and not to Darren as well, for reasons much more dreadfull than his Lythari heritage.
But contrary to the other two, the Forestlord heritage was clearly visible, so Gorion had been forced to tell Darren about the special abilities it gave him. And Darren promised not to tell anyone about it, even if Gorion suspected that Imoen knew how he could teleport through trees, like a dryad.
Now Gorion thought about when Darren first came to Candlekeep. It was also the day in which he first questioned the wisdom of the Priests of Oghma, as they first didn?t want a greenskinned baby in their keep. They figured that because Green Dragons were evil, a descendant of elves who made a pact with them had to be inherently evil too.
But thanks to Gorion, Darren was eventually as much as accepted by the priests.
He shook his head, realising he had to continue readying himself, but looked out of the window for the last time. Darren was animately talking to one of the green robed monks, obviously discussing his lessons, Gorion figured.
?Dude, do you have any idea of how awesome this is?? Darren said.
The monk sighed. Darren still had the random lines he had drawn on his face last night, when he was on a party at the Inn. The monk had insisted he washed it away, but Darren wouldn?t listen.
?I mean, almost every real adventurer has some sort of tatto thing on his face!? Darren continued.
?Ofcourse,? the monk said, rolling his eyes. ?But now I really think you should prepare yourself, and then go to Gorion. He?s waiting for you.?
Darren raised his shoulders. ?Whatever.? And he went off.
He looked at what he had found so far, hoping there was something he could sell.
A daggers, his staff, some gold, and a gem he got from Phlydia, for bringing her book back.
He walked towards the Priest?s Quarters, thinking there might be some random stuff to sell to Winthrop.
?Hello there, are you Darren?? He heard a voice say as soon as he entered.
A man stood before him, with a cowl over his head.
Darren closed the door.
?Yes I am, what can I do for you??
?Oh, hehe,? the man started, amused, ?You can do very little, except for dieing!?
And with that, he unsheated a dagger, and jumped towards Darren. He quickly dodged the stab, and proceeded to swing his quarterstaff towards the thug?s head, throwing him on the ground.
The man quickly stood up, leaped to him, and pushed the staff aside, slashing at Darren?s head. Darren swung his head backwards, but he still got a cut above his brow.
He slammed his fist on the man?s nose, making him back away, and then backed away, falling on a crate, breaking it. Inside he found a hammer, and slammed it on the man?s head. Hearing a crac, Darren shrugged. He had never killed a man before...
He shook the feeling off. It was pure self defence, so there was nothing wrong with it.
On the man?s body, he found another useless dagger.
As he came outside, he saw Parda, his longtime tutor and friend, coming towards him.
?Darren? You have a cut above yoiur brow. What happened??
?Don?t worry, just one of the cats who didn?t like me patting it?, Darren said with a chuckle, and went away.
He?ll see it by himself when he goes inside, he thought to himself.
There was Dreppin, the old farmer, mumbling to his cow Nessie.
?Hey, Darren!? He said.
Dreppin was one of the few common persons who were kind to him. He even cosidered him as a friend.
?Ah, Dreppin!? Darren replied. ?How?s life??
?With me it?s pretty good, but that?s not the case for poor Nessie... She?s been sick all day...?
?Poor cow,? Darren said, ?Sorry Dreppin, but I have to get going. Gorion waits for me.?
?Bye, and fare ye well!?
Darren walked further, passing by the small Temple of Oghma. But at the Storehouse, another unpleasant surprise awaited him.
?I thought I told ya ta kill the rats in here?? Reevor, a grumpy dwarf, snorted. ?Get moving!?
Darren rolled his eyes and got in. Reevor was an old war veteran, probably the best warrior in the keep. Could,?t he handly a few stupid rats by himself?
Darren felt very stupid, as he stood there, on his knees, crushing rats with his hammer. And he also felt a bit sorry for the beasts. It wasn?t their fault, after all.
A few minutes later, he was standing at the gate, talking to Hull the gatekeep, a bored cityguard who probably didn?t even know how to properly hold a weapon, and just hung around the gate and talked to people.
?Oh, by the way Darren, could you please go to the barracks, and get my sword? The general won?t be happy if he sees me without it. Oh, and there?s also a poison antidote somewhere, I thought Dreppin?s cow needs some.?
?I?m sorry, but I really don?t have time for this?, Darren said, and he moved away.
Uncaring about what he said to Hull, he went to the barracks anyway. But on the way, he entered the bunkhouse, just to see if there was anything to be found.
But all he found was another rude man who tried to kill him, with another useless dagger on him.
When he entered the barracks, he went towards a chest with ?Hull? carved on it, and found a sword and a potion in it.
?Sorry guys?, he said to himself, decinding to keep them. He figured Nessie could be healed by a priest anyway, and he needed a sword more than Hull did.
As Darren entered Winthrop?s Inn, he saw a familiar figure. An old elven wizard, with shoulderlength white hair, and flowing green robes. Firebead Elvenhair.
?Greetings, you are Gorion?s ward, aren?t you? Ofcourse, you?re pretty recogniseable, with that skin.?
Darren smiled, as he knew the mage meanth no harm.
?Hi, Firebead, what brings you here again??
?Oh, I just wanted to read in the good old Candlekeep library... Oh, I just remembered, I gave Tethtoril an Identify scroll. Could you get it back to me, please??
?Uh... I don?t know if I have time for that, but I?ll do it if I meet him.? Darren answered.
Then he went to Winthrop.
?Hey, old friend, I?ve got something to sell you!?
Winthrop smiled. ?Ah, Darren, me ol? pal!?
Darren showed him the gem, the daggers, and the hammer.
?How did you get those?? Winthrop asked in disbelief.
Darren just winked, and brought a finger to his lips. Winthrop nodded with a smile, and gave him fourty-one goldpieces for it all.
Satisfied, Darren went out, and entered the inner keep. As he walked around, he came across a group of mages, signing prophectic lines. Darren clearly heard on of them ?The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he will spawn a score of mortal progeny...?
He knew that line well, and it has always intrigued him. When he was younger, he sometimes tried to imagine how it would feel to be one of the children of this god of murder.
Eventually, he had concluded that he would have never been able to survive with the knowledge of being one, so he praised himself lucky that he wasn?t one.
As he ran further, he passed by Tethtoril, who kindly greeted him, and gave him the scroll for Firebead.
So he immediately turned around, and ran back as fast as he could towards the Inn, and gave the scroll. Firebead, grateful, cast Protection Against Evil on him, and gave him a health potion.
Now Darren was running back towards the entrance to the keep, when he nearly ran onto Imoen.
?Hey, Darren!? Imoen said cheerfully.
?Hey Imoen?, Darren said with a smile.
?Do you have time to tell me a story? No, wait, I see you don?t.?
?I?m sorry, but I really need to go now, with Gorion.?
?Yeah, I know. I really wish I could have come with you though...? She said, sadly.
?Alright,? Darran rolled his eyes in amusement, ?I gotn the message. I?ll ask him if you can come with us.?
?No!? Imoen said. ?He?d say no, I?m sure! Espeically after I read that letter that... uh... letter? What letter, I haven?t read no letter!?
And with that she ran away, leaving a perplexed Darren. He raised his shoulders, and went towards the door, where Gorion was already waiting for him.
?Listen carefully,? Gorion said. ?If we ever become separated, it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There, you will meet Khalid and Jaheira. They have been my longtime friends, and they?ll help you.?
Then he proceeded to cast Cure Minor Wounds on Darren.
?Don?t worry, I?ll tell you everything as soon as it is time.?
They walked further.
?Wait, something is wrong. We are in an ambush...?
Suddenly, a huge man came out of the forest, with spiky black plate armor, and a terrifying hemet, formed like a skull, with horns and teeth. But what bugged Darren the most, were his solid yellow eyes. They didn?t have any pupils!
Two Ogres were walking at his side, and a female mage stood behind him.
?You?re perceptive for an old man,? the figure said. ?You know why I?m here. Hand over the ward, and no one will be hurt. If you resist it shall be a waste of your life!?
Gorion smiled ironically. ?You?re a fool if you believe I trust your benevolence. Step aside, and your lackeys will be unhurt.?
?I?m sorry that you feel that way, old man?, the armored figure finished.
With that, the Ogres charged at Gorion, while the mage cast a Magic Missile on Darren.
?Run, chiled, run!? Gorion yelled.
Darren ran away, his heart beating like crazy.
--------------------------------------------------------
Hope you like it!
Edited by Dave Greenblade, 15 January 2008 - 09:28 AM.
