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Borderline Sanity


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#1 WeeRLegion

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Posted 28 March 2007 - 04:09 AM

Here it comes, the beginning of a short series i've got in the works.

[Rambling]My idea is to try to among other themes explore the nightmare scenes in a fresh manner.
I plan on breaking many game rules and rewriting others as i see fit...
I'm planning on handling some of the major quests in ordinary chapters, and then spicing things up here and there with short individual scenes that i would call "half-chapters".
Besides mental stuff and such, my plans for the writing include but are not limited to bloody bone breaking combat scenes with graphic violence, alternate solutions to problems, philosophy (both borrowed and thought up), well you'll see...
Since my BG 2 copy is bugging up, i'll, for better or worse, be improvising a lot even where i maybe otherwise wouldn't.[/Rambling]

Well, it's my first planned out longer term writing project, so wish me luck, or if you don't like my writing, well do as thou wilt. :P
Comments are always welcome... :whistling:


So ahh, for the weak of heart; it may be wise to cover up your keyboard with something unless you want puke on it, there is something of a disturbing scene coming along right in the prologue...
You have been warned.

And one last thing, thanks to Kellen for taking a proofreading glance at the story.

Chapters thus far:
Prologue
Chapter 1 - Personal Bhaal
Chapter 2 - Imnesvale mission journal
Chapter 3 - Psychology 911

Edited by WeeRLegion, 20 June 2007 - 01:39 PM.


#2 WeeRLegion

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Posted 28 March 2007 - 04:09 AM

Borderline Sanity ? Prologue

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


A seed of doubt
It exists
And it grows
A glimpse of life
From somewhere deep within
Awake and understand

Is there anyone else here?
Somebody screaming
Please help me
Let's find out now
That I am not dreaming
Welcome to my damnation
Here it comes the real me

-Blind Guardian, ?Another Stranger Me?


*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


?Ahh, the child of Bhaal has awoken!?; the voice spoke, whose voice? The voice of the unnamed mage, one of the few voices that Okarik had listened to in the past weeks, besides the occasional mumbling of the passing by duergar, never to forget the distant screaming, howling, shrieking, the pain inspired primitive song echoing through the dark hallways of the dungeon.

?Today is a special day, child of Bhaal. Do you know what day it is, child of Bhaal??

Okarik tried to think, but forming coherent thought proved too formidable a challenge at first after all the time spent out of sunlight.
A week, a day, two weeks, a month? Time lost it's meaning in places like this. For a while he had kept track of the passing days, but constant painful interruptions, unconsciousness, and near death experiences had eventually forced him to abandon such attempts.
Now he could only think of an rough estimate by looking at the neighboring cage's occupant and calculating with an assumed decay rate.

Such things aside, most would likely have embraced the blissful ignorance of insanity by then, but self discipline and well practiced emotional detachment had pretty much enabled him to keep his wits about through times spent in gloomy closets with piles of rotting bodies and the long hours on the experimentation table.
With a dry and tired voice he finally creaked: ?Hah hah... the inkblot day...?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


Ohh... Waking up... And they are still hanging there... dead, finally... I guess i'm not surprised... Anyone would be quite dead after losing... HAHHAH! THIS much blood... Bloody hell, oh all too fitting...

Gods i'm thirsty... I feel no thirst... thirst is meaningless, i won't feel thirst, there is no thirst... I... BHAHHAH! I have no thirst for blood! I don't i swear... I'm tired... relax, rest... take control... Blechh! This blood tastes like ? i don't thirst! i don't want to taste this... So much... AT ALL! Uhh... thirstyyy...

NO!

No need... Find a thought, hold onto the thought, let all else pass by, FOCUS!
Nothing for the fire, fight the fire without burning... No staring at hell...

Uhh, thirsty... FOCUS! Emptiness, there is nothing! nothing matters and nothing matters everything does...

Chains and flesh hooks... Bhuhh...

Well... HA! The witches, the bitches, and the britches! BUT NO ZOMBIES!
Zombies? Zombies have no thirst...

Zombies dancing! Heeheehee... Zombie line dance, feel the beat heehee...
NO! Emptiness... Focus on nothing... and everything is in focus...

Remember... Haha... I'm thinking to myself? Am i supposed to think this LOUD?! Prffttt! ... Memories?

CONCENTRATE!

What's this taste? HYARKKPH! Blood, why do i have blood in my mouth?
Uhh...

Too much... Must not fall asleep... It's a perfect ten... phahhah...


*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


?I feel much better today?.

?Shure ye do! And you'll feel MUCH bettar once you've had somethin' ta eat, ain't that soo??

With a bland look on his face Okarik turned to look at the wickedly grinning duergar jailor.
?Who is it today then??

?Ah, you really do try ta spoil the fun of it... But take heart, todday it really is someone special!?

He looked at the large platter the dwarf laid down on the floor.
The arm, the hand, and the fingers, rare as you please and still adorned with her usual collection of rings and jewelry Oh... Dynaheir, all on a spicy bed of fat fingers.
A wave of anger would have washed over his senses, but he had seen too much, and like from far above he watched as the waves below raged against a rocky shore.
He calmly rose up, and addressed the jailor as he walked towards the cage door.

?This won't do, i want my meat raw.?

For a moment the dwarf gawked at him in stunned silence before bursting out in hysteric laughter. The distraction was enough for Okarik to reach out between the bars, grab the dwarf by his beard, yank him to the door and sink his fingers into the dwarf's carotid artery, resulting in a prompt blackout.
The limp body collapsed into the day's special meal.
Okarik took a quick moment to ascertain that the dwarf truly had no trace of consciousness left for now, and turned the body to sit with it's back towards the cage door.
To make sure he wouldn't be interrupted, he tied the dwarf's beard to the bars, and lacking a better gag, he picked seven fingers from the platter and stuffed them well into the dwarf's mouth.
He didn't bother checking the pockets for keys, experience confirmed that the anonymous mage kept the only set for himself, instead he took a knife from the dwarf's utility belt, pulled up the sleeve on the dwarf's left arm, put his palm on the arm and begun carefully feeling for the invisible flow of energy inside the muscle.
Finding the energy channel proved to be more of a challenge than he'd expected, but as he finally located it he took the knife, cut a gash through to the spot, pushed his right hand index and middle finger into the bleeding wound and placed his left hand on the other side.

?Concentrate...?

Slowly and carefully, but at an accelerating speed, he then begun circulating energy into his left arm, the hand, the fingers... A mild warmth lit up on his right hand as the energy flowed through the dying flesh and the air, returning to it's source, dragging some of the uncontrolled escaping energies of the soon to be carcass with them.
A moment later he stood up, stretched himself and yawned.
With malnourishment and a constant need to expend energy on speeding up physical recovery... it had been a while since he'd felt himself this energetic.
He cut the dead dwarf's beard off the iron bars, kicked the corpse away from the cell, and resumed his dungeon-adapted regimen of physical exercises

A few hundred push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and stretching movements later, the screech of a heavy door turning on rusted hinges emanated from the surrounding darkness.
To reveal as little as possible of his activities, Okarik calmly and quietly sat down cross-legged in the middle of the cage and closed his eyes to focus on listening.
He could hear quiet footsteps in the distance, certainly they were hard to hear, any disturbance and they would have gone unnoticed, but practice and large pointed ears proved to be of use.
As the steps kept approaching, Okarik opened his eyes and turned to look to their direction.
He could make out a single shape ?Bipedal... slightly... well, maybe a palm's width taller than me... probably a female... yes, definately a female...?
He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw the figure peeking into a vacant cell and recoiling from the sight of the corpse sitting within, but he kept it inside and kept observing.
The figure kept sneaking closer, step by step... ?Oh no, for Bhaal's sake! Not another Imoen! ... Mmm... I could go for a mug of sake right now...?
He decided to speed up the process.

?Hey! You there! Sneakaround! Why don't you sneak over here and open up this cage of mine, so we can get on with the business? Hurry now!?

The almost unidentified sneaking female quickly crouched in a deep shadow where the flickering light of the lone torch on the far wall didn't reach.

?Yeah! You there! Don't think i don't see you! Now speed it up, i don't know what time it is so i don't know how much of the day i have left to sit here waiting for you.?

Hesitantly the figure stood up.

?Okarik??

The figure took a few steps towards Okarik's cage, then jogged the rest of the short way, carefully avoiding not to step on the dead dwarf lying in the way, and apparently entirely missing the messed up gathering of rare meat now decorating the floor.

?Well... I did think it'd be you, creeping about like that. Now what's the story this time? ?Oh, he forgot the keys on the table!?, no, no, something better ?A malfunctioning golem tore off with the cell door!?, well something like that, hmm? Let me hear it!?

?He's really been messing with your head, huh??

?Oh, maybe he forgot to tell you??

?Who forgot to tell m... Nevermind, there is no time for this, look i found some tools, i think i can get your cage open.?

With that she set herself to tinkering with the lock, and a long speechless moment later, the door swung open with a loud grating sound.

?There! Now let's get going, there isn't much time; assasins came after our captor i think...?

?I guess he did forget to tell you then...?

Okarik slowly stood up.

?You are not the first ?Imoen? to stumble this way.?

?... huh??

?Maybe you are the third, or maybe the fourth, i can't quite remember... Admittedly you are the most convincing one... You see, all the others, they had their eyes in the backs of their heads...?

He gave her a sweet, if maybe somewhat psychotic, smile, tilting his head just a little to the right.

?Snap out of it! We don't have much time.?

?...But then, if that is true, then they also had pink hair growing on their faces...?

?Now you're making me nervous.?

Imoen took a step back, and another for each step Okarik took towards her.

?Oh, but that makes no sense! ... I guess it really must have been something i did to them, hehehe??

Okarik shrugged, and took a quick leap forward. With a yelp, Imoen stumbled backwards over the duergar corpse.
In a split second he was upon her, and gave her a massive bear hug.

?But they just didn't feel like you at all, you know? Hehheh! Despite having your fist in my eye (you can take it away now, oww...), i must say i've really missed you!?

Imoen shook her head, diluting the original scare with a mix of annoyance and amusement ?You're one terrible bastard of a little brother, you know...?

Okarik grinned ?I know little sister, i know!?, and squuezed her hard one last time before letting go.

?So, are we going now or do you have more theatrics prepared for me??

?Well, i think some of our old friends might still be alive here somewhere... And i think our captor keeps a storage of knives and other sharp stuff somewhere here... I think i am in the mood for pocketing some of those for ?future uses? before vacating these premises...?.

Edited by WeeRLegion, 08 April 2007 - 03:33 AM.


#3 WeeRLegion

WeeRLegion

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Posted 08 April 2007 - 03:38 AM

Riiight. Took a bit lnoger to write this than i'd expected, just like with any true fanfiction. :P
Teehee.
Anyway, thanks again to Kellen for helping with the polish here.
Ack, still, i am hurrying a bit, ebarrassed by the unexpected delay; the last part has yet to go through proofreading, i've worked with it as well as i could though.

Comments welcome as always. :cheers:


Borderline Sanity ? Chapter 1, Personal Bhaal

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


Don't Talk To Strangers
Cause the're only there to do you harm
Don't write in starlight
Cause the words may come out real
Don't hide in doorways
You may find the key that opens up your soul
Don't go to heaven cause it's really only hell
Don't smell the flowers
They're an evil drug to make you lose your mind
Don't dream of women
'Cause they'll only bring you down

Hey you, you know me You've touched me, but I'm real
I'm forever the one who lets you look and see
Can You feel me? I'm danger- I'm a stranger
And I
I'm darkness I'm anger I'm pain
I am the master
The evil song you sing inside your brain, drive you insane
Don't talk
Don't let them inside your mind yeah
Run away Run away goooo
Don't let them in your mind , touch your soul

-Dio, ?Don't Talk To Strangers?


*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*


Candlekeep?

Okarik eyed the stone walls rising all around the library keep.
At first everything seemed to be in order, but as he turned his thoughts inward he began noticing oddities; he could not focus on visual details, but could identify anything.
In places the dreamscape gave way to a cold and distant star-filled sky, and elsewhere it demonstrated other bizarre distortions and familiar objects well placed out of place.
Behind the gates of the outer wall stood Imoen waving her hand in a cheerful greeting.

?Heya!?

Okarik strode over to the gates and leaned on the portcullis to take a closer look at her. She appeared to be quite the spitting image of his sister, and excepting a strange tattoo of a chain circling her neck she exhibited no noticeable anomalies.
Finishing his observations Okarik said dryly ?Evening to you too, phantasm.?

?Aww... You're being mean...? She made a pouting face, then turned back to cheerfulness. ?It's been such a long time since we met! We're going to have so much fun! Now get that gate open so we can get started!?

Okarik raised an eyebrow ?Get started with what??

?Blowing things up!?

Okarik looked around and said indifferently, ?Well, it doesn't seem like i'd have much else to do here... so how do i get this gate up??

Imoen's eyes lit up ?Oooh! Maybe you'd like me to help you with it... ??

Okarik shrugged, and Imoen set herself to the task; pushing the heavy metal-grid aside with her little finger. She made a playfully mocking face, and gestured for Okarik to follow.
They walked along the familiar road leading away from the keep, until Imoen spotted a trail leading into what should have been a forest; the uprooted trunks stuck out of the ground with their roots reaching for the dark sky.
Imoen turned around with an amused expression on her face ?You never cared that much for trees... or nature...?, she turned back to look at the far out display ?I did, but you listened so rarely...?.

Okarik stared at her blankly. ?I don't see anything exploding here.?

She laughed. ?Explosions, one of the few things I ever got you intrested in! Heh. Come.?

They ventured into the woods, carefully avoiding the deep, dark, star-filled puddles spread about here and there, and soon they found themselves standing on the edge of a forest clearing.
Okarik halted, but Imoen walked on, spun around in the middle of the opening with her hands in the air and went on walking backwards towards a handful of granite statues standing in neat lines on the other side, she appeared quite excited.

?How do you like them? Aren't they nice? I made them myself!? She paused for a moment to grin widely.

Okarik scanned the statues quickly, dead people all of them.
Gorion's granite likeness held a place at the front row, but it looked somehow different, the statue stood tall and heroic as any great hero but without losing any of the sage's kindness and warmth.
Okarik glanced through the other statues, but they appeared more as he remembered them, if maybe still somehow overly heroic. ?You've taken too much artistic liberty there. Gorion was wise, but worried, he was certainly tall, but like any old wizard, he rarely bothered standing with his back straight. And the others are over glorified also.?

Imoen replied ponderously, ?So that is why you tried to kill me here...?

?I never tried to kill Imoen, even less here. Now keep your tongue in check, or I swear I'll wake...? The image of Imoen in front of him stood frozen as petrification spread up from the ground, and quickly enveloped the image altogether.

HMMMM... Most unusual.

Okarik quickly closed his eyes and scoured the arse-upwards forest for any foreign mental presence, but could find none, but he could hear something.

?Look at them, my child.?

Okarik turned around slowly to face the all too familiar looking source of the voice. Behind him, a little distance away in the forest stood a tall humanoid male leaning on a tree trunk, gesturing at the statues.
His taste in leathers had not improved, and he still wore the ugly patchwork leather-mask he had worn back at the dungeon.
Keeping his voice calm and icy Okarik said ?You wear the wrong face to speak those words.?

The image took a step closer and spoke with a hint of amusement in it's voice, ?Maybe. But it's the only face you thought suitable for me. A pity, I prefer to look handsome.?

?So you are not who you look like.? Okarik adjusted his position to once more face the approaching stranger directly.

The image made an artificial-looking serious face, and spoke in a low-pitched booming voice ?Okarik, I am your father!?, then turned to look ponderously at the dark sky above.
?Or maybe not quite, strike that?, the image bowed low in a smarmy manner ?Spark of Bhaal, at your service, dear spawn.?

Okarik eyed the self-proclaimed piece of the divine carefully ?Terrific, Sparko. You're behind this dream then??

The taint sat on a rock by the clearing ?Not quite, I just rent the space. Look over yonder, she, ah, it,? Sparko gestured carelessly in the general direction of the statues, ?the pink haired pest I just petrified... I suspect it has gotten bored in your absence, so now it raised a ruckus. But let us not worry ourselves over it, rather focus on these statues it made. So why don't you tell me what is common with all of them??

Figuring that Sparko would not be a reliable source of information on many issues, Okarik decided to still avoid boredom and answered, ?They are people I knew, they are dead, and they are portrayed in a strangely heroic ligth.?

Sparko seemed pleased, ?Good, good, you have keen eyes. But there are a few things you still missed. You have gained something from all of them, knowledge, skill, experiences... Everything of real value actually,?, his voice took on an almost excited tone, ?and you killed them when they were of no more use, as any reasonable man would have.?

Okarik grimaced, ?Stop grinning like an idiot, I didn't kill any of them. Well, Safana maybe, but i'm hardly the one to blame.?

Sparko stood up terribly smug looking, ?Is that so? Take Gorion here. Had you acted according to reason he would still be alive. You had the power to stop what happened here, a shame you denied it then. A shame that you killed him with your inaction and sentimental cowardice! But you learned from the experience.? If possible, his act adapted and even higher level of conceitedness, ?And besides, i grinned like a bloodthirsty pervert, not like an idiot.?

Okarik snorted, slightly amused, ?Your power? You are why I have always strived to improve myself, to have integrity, to control myself. I will never be a drooling slave of a demon, like Sarevok was.?

?And has it been worth it, striving for perfection? You know I would always have rewarded courage and reason with power enough to achieve your goals. Be honest with me here, you don't even remember why you rejected me in the first place. Now, time is running out, I'll meet you here later.?

Okarik wanted to argue, but a feeling of awakening quickly overcame him, and he found himself lying on his bed.

He lied still for a moment, ascertaining that he now truly had woken up, and to check that he had no trapwires bound to his toes, a habit he had failed to drop even with Imoen elsewhere.
The moon still shone down it's silver light through the stained glass window just above his head, almost inviting him to go for a walk outside to clear his head.
He quickly repeated all fresh knowledge he had acquired in the last few days and made a quick plan for his midnight walk, considering a few possible outcomes as well, so as to be prepared for all the usual surprises, including but not limited to assassins, hungry bears, underground beehives, and strangely talkative party-associates out for similar business.
Finishing his mental preparations, he straightened himself up, made a few quick stretching exercises, put on his usual loose black leather trousers, tightened them around his ankles, and pulled on his matching black leather tunic.
Then he moved on to equipment.
Thick and heavy, dark-brown leather greaves came first, then matching iron reinforced bracers, and a wide belt with an obscenely large belt buckle and blackened throwing weapons of many sorts in multiple more and less obvious sheaths and straps.
He took a moment to once more admire his pair of custom-made basket-hilted butterfly swords before placing them in their plain leather sheaths, and as a last step he fixed a pair of iron banded tonfa batons to a loop in the belt.
A look in the mental mirror reminded him to still put on his excessively thick bottomed sandals, strap his pink-colored hair into a long ponytail on the top of his head with a few garrottes, and then hide a pair of throwing needles in the mess.
Determining that he now had made all the necessary preparations, he still attached a small potion case to the belt, and walked out of the room and into the hallway, where a shocked voice instantly cried out ?By the gods! Zip up man! Zip up!?.

After an embarrassed moment of further preparations Okarik resumed his plan. He turned right, passed through the armory, descended the creaky stairs in the corner, walked through the smelly kitchen storage, across another hallway, and into the main hall where the servants hurried to busy themselves with something other than drinking.
A quick glance through the room revealed that Jaheira and Aerie had already retired for the night, Korgan sat by himself, staring at a half-empty tankard on the table with glassy eyes, Edwin, also by himself, seemed to concentrate on a house of cards he'd pieced together on the table.
Minsc couldn't be found in the room, but that didn't say much about his whereabouts, his habits varied with the whims of his hamster.
Yoshimo lied on a bench, apparently passed out, but not without a few bruises, his chronic habit of cheating with the dice rarely let him go unscatched.
Nalia and Anomen still kept up a drunken chatter with some of the servants in a table of their own.
Jan had disappeared, as had Viconia.

Concluding that nothing needed immediate attention, Okarik continued on his way, through the heavy front-side doors, into the courtyard where he snuck silently past the dog kennels, over the open drawbridge, and into the cut down ring of forest surrounding the castle.
The memory of Jaheira staring at the violence done to nature with that horrid jaw-struck expression on her face, if for but a moment before reason seized control once more...
He felt a faint spark of amusement at the memory, and for a moment he stood still, just breathing the cool night air, slow and deep, but a moment later, according to his plan, he lounged himself on the grass, and began observing the night sky.

Shining stars and whatnot, moving slowly along their unknown paths, quite pointless, really.
To move along a path determined by someone else, without freedom to decide for yourself, without even the power to shake your rear at stars and planets floating around slower than yourself, the caged life of a piece of the sky...
Real purpose could only be found with decision, that he knew.
Purpose could exist otherwise, but only through choices could it be found, only through choices and freedom could a man anyhow profit from his purpose.
He had known purpose, once upon a time, but somehow he had lost it, and he didn't know how. Now he felt like and arrow caught by the wind, still flying, flying fast, but to where and what for? Why keep flying?
Someone more inclined to worshipping the divine could perhaps find solace in thinking that the wind carrying him cared for him, but Okarik had felt himself to be allergic to all forms of divinities ever since his first encounter with the god inside.

A sudden sensation of someone approaching dragged him out of his melancholic internal monologue.
He rose up from the ground, quickly checked that his facial expression didn't betray any emotion, and turned to face the approaching mental presence.
?Oh Vicky, up and about as well I see.?

The way she fumed, Viconia seemed to be quite ready to explode, ?You said you would keep him in check!?

Okarik blinked. ?I don't quite follow.?

She walked closer, close enough to make it hard to fit a rabbit between their noses, ?There is a nude gnome snoring on my bed!?, she spat over her shoulder after finishing, and Okarik could almost hear an acidic hiss when the spattered discharge rained on the ground.

Looking down at her, he blinked again, self-consciously aware that without his sandals he wouldn't be looking downwards, ?That hardly sounds like anything you couldn't handle.?

Viconia's voice climbed a few steps up the pitch ladder as she shrieked, ?I'm not touching that creep!?

Okarik threw up his arms and rolled his eyes, ?Just give him some whipping and he'll go away.?

Viconia glared at him murderously, but suddenly the expression on her face turned into a devilishly compassionate smile, ?Ah! So it is all about that bondage incident again...?

Okarik's shoulders slumped, and he leant down to glare the drow straight in her eyes, ?There never has, and never will be, any kind of an bondage incident.?

?Oh, there's no need to hide it...? and with that she quickly turned around and dashed away with the last word, stopping only for a quick over-the-shoulder smirk when a needle-impaled bat fell down from the sky nearby.

Annoyed by the dialogue, and even more so by his failure to rein in his last outburst, Okarik sat down cross-legged to analyze the situation reasonably and to restore his calm.
It took him more than a few tries to get over recurring thoughts concerning bothersome people, dismemberment and disembowelment, but eventually he managed to, so he headed back inside.
As he passed the main hall, he took another look inside, and since his plans for the night lied in ruins anyway, he decided to enter.

Edwin's house of cards seemed somehow lower than the last time, a collapse seemed like a likely explanation, otherwise everything seemed to be as well as the last time.
Okarik sat down by an empty table, picked up a used fork, estimated a ballistic trajectory, and woke up one of the snoozing servants with a well aimed throw.
The only slightly frightened man quickly poured him a goblet of some dry and uninteresting kind of wine, which he downed quickly and ordered another, as well as a deck of cards to come along with it.
The red wizard could keep his winning streak with chess, but with card citadels, Okarik refused to be beat.
Card by card, floor by floor, goblet by goblet, the castle grew.
Soon Edwin noticed that he had competition, and sped up his pace, and in no time an all out race for the roof commenced, both competitors as eager as the other to sneer and smirk for each tumbling tower not on their own table.

For a long time the competition seemed fairly even, but long past midnight the wizard tower touched the roof first.
Edwin took his time making one last sleepy smirk, yawned, mumbled something about simian engineers, and headed upstairs, leaving a disbelieving Okarik staring in wonder and drunken amazement.
Okarik shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and once the red mage had disappeared he walked over to inspect the shoddy looking roof-scraper.

Adhesive...pfftt...

Indeed, a careful eye could spot thin lines of honey where the cards met, easily keeping them together, and the honey jar on the floor gave away the nefarious scheme entirely.
Okarik snorted, picked up a candle, set the card-tower on fire, and left the scene for the servants to handle.

Okarik navigated the keep with as much skill as he in his state of mind could muster, but eventually he found his way back to his room.
But the door wouldn't open; someone had locked it from the inside, and Okarik surmised that the squatter also bore responsibility for the note nailed just over the handle: The couch is free, male.
It didn't take him too much brainwork to figure out, first that Viconia had occupied his room for now, and second, that the door opened outwards.
He shuffled his way to the armory, dug up a pair of wedges, and then headed back for his room, where he quietly jammed the wedges under the door.
Pleased with his revenge, he laid himself to sleep on the floor just outside the door, to make sure he would be the first to reap the fruits of it.
He closed his eyes, smiling inwards, and soon he felt himself drifting away from reality, and when he opened his eyes, he stood once more in the statue infested forest glade near the surreal mock-up Candlekeep.

Suddenly someone leapt out from behind a thick tree trunk, grimacing horribly and yelling terribly, ?Buarghhharrr!?.

Okarik blinked, really slowly, but the pink haired female with a black and white face did not disappear.
Okarik wrinkled his nose, with something of a huge question mark painted all over his expression, ?Imoen, what on earth have you done to your face??

?Corpsepaint!? she chirped, and grinned widely.

For a moment Okarik could do little but stare at the depressingly painted happy face grinning at him, waiting for him to say something. With a sigh he yielded. ?So what's the game this time??

?Angst!? Imoen smiled, and clapped her hands together a few times, as hyper as ever.

Okarik made a pleading face; ?I've got more than enough of that where I came from...?

Imoen stepped closer, aimed her right index finger at Okarik's nose.
?Oh, no, you, don't!? she said, stressing each word with a poke.

An exaggerated seasoning of indifference could be tasted in Okarik's voice when he asked her, ?Do you have a point to make??

She shrugged carefreely, ?You keep it all here.?

Okarik first turned his eyes to scan the landscape to his left, then to his right, then his gaze wandered down to the ground, from where it continued on to observe the forest in front of him, then the sky above him, and lastly he bent over backwards to look at the landscape behind him.
He straigtened his back and said smugly, coating his voice with a thick layer of gag-sweet intentional ignorance, ?I don't see any angst here.?

She laughed, ?The trees, the statues, the red dead grass all around, what do you think it all comes from, silly??

Okarik took another look around, this time more general and less thorough. ?This is a dream, coming from nowhere and headed for nowhere, why should I care about anything here??

Imoen absentmindedly rested her elbow on Okarik's head when she began explaining; ?Because you've brought yourself here, you've brought us here, well I maybe assisted, just a little, well maybe not all that little... But, uhh, anyway, hehheh, you don't really have any idea of what this place is, do you??

Okarik looked her coldly, straight in her eyes, and said with a freezing voice, ?Hands off. Only the real Imoen is allowed to lean on my head.?

?Aww...? The dream Imoen pouted, but straightened herself reluctantly. ?And the question??

The usual nonchalance returned to Okarik's voice as he shrugged and answered; ?Looks like a mess.?

Instantly Imoen piped cheerily, ?Hot!?

?Huh??

?Close.? Imoen waited a second for another guess, but as none came she went on ?This place is a garbage dump!?
Okarik looked at her with a questioning expression on his face, so she continued ?Do you know why these statues are here??

Okarik snorted with amusement, ?Do you expect me to have an idea or do you just want me to ask myself??

Imoen grimaced and whined, ?It's rhetorical, you boring yokel...?

?So why are they here?? Okarik barely could hold himself in check when a smug smile snuck to his side and began tugging and pulling at his face with a primal fervor.

Imoen seemed slightly disappointed, but still determined, ?Because you don't want them on the inside.?

Okarik turned to look at the statues, ?Makes sense, they're ugly.? A barely audible snicker escaped his lips.

Disappointment and annoyance raced ardously for second place in the competition to dominate Imoen's determination led voice, ?No, silly, that's not why! You dump the memories outside because remembering them as I do hurts! You didn't want to deal with any of it then, so you buried it all here. But it didn't work that well, now did it? You ended up belittling the memories, making them out to be distant and ?objective? until you no longer cared, but I cared.? She paused to take a breath, and resumed with a bitterly wry tone to her voice ?And here I am, outside with the garbage.? She looked around and shivered. ?I think I need a hug...?[/i]

At first Okarik seemed taken aback by the outburst, but he still managed to force a nonchalant tone, ?Quite the rant you had there. Next night you should go badger Jaheira, I think she might know some recipe for that.?

Imoen sounded quite resigned now, but in the way that writes between the lines ?Well, I saw it coming...?, she said, ?I know you well enough, whenever something hits you close enough you try to hide it and strike back, like it'd somehow help.?

Okarik felt himself fairly secure on his footing, but what could he do to the smug smile by his side which now had gone berserk and kept mauling his face in a hideously undetermined manner? He had a hard time keeping his voice dry enough for his own taste, ?It does, actually. An opponent with a face full of fist rarely begs for more.?

Imoen lightened up again, smiled, and said, ?Heh, I guess I'll just let you brood over it in peace then. But you should know that SHE wuvs me!? Imoen hugged herself. ?But she pities you, and hopes that you'll somehow just get better, she used to wuv you too, you know.?

The smug smile seemed to now settle for a frown, ?You're just trying to mess with my head. This is a stupid fagged out dream... And I know i shouldn't drink that much before gonig to sleep.?

Imoen no longer listened, she just absent-mindedly dropped the last comment before disappearing, ?I think Sparko still had something to say to you before you wake up, you really shouldn't listen to him, he's really got some unhealty ideas in his head...?

Seeing that he now stood alone in the dream, and figuring that physical exercises would do him little good outside of reality, Okarik decided to investigate the functionality of the dream.
He walked over to one of the sky-filled holes in the ground, knelt by it, supporting his arms on the edges, and looked inside.
The empirical evidence he encountered within led him to conclude that his dreamscape consisted of a relatively flat earth-plane, surrounded by an inperceivable shape of star filled sky.
He pondered for a moment, spat into the hole, and observed with great curiosity as the spittle accelerated at freefall pace, gaining distance all the time, soon it disappeared beyond sight.
For a moment longer he stared at the pit, hoping to maybe see some kind of an highly visual logical collapse in the internal structure of the dream when the spittle passed it's borders, but none came.

?Courage, what is courage?? Sparko entered the scene with a ponderous look on the mask covering his face.

Okarik kept staring at the pool, and replied inattentively, like a bored priest reciting a familiar passage from memory, ?Courage is motivation strong enough to make someone overcome an more or less intuitive sensation of potential harm to himself or his other intrests.?

?Do you have courage?? Sparko asked carefully, almost hesitantly.

?Nope.?

Unsurprised by Okarik's flat statement, the taint went on questioning, ?What do you have then??

Now Okarik finally raised his head from the star-pool, and answered ponderously, with still a hint of amusement blended in for good taste, ?Careful calculation of necessities and risks involved, also referred to as ?reckless disregard for my own safety? by a surviving long-term associate of mine.?

Sparko crouched by the elf still sitting by the pool, and continued the questioning, clearly having a prepared plan to play his cards by, ?Would you like to have courage then??

Okarik looked at him, and stated nonchalantly, ?I have no use for it.?

Sparko seemed delighted, and shared his pre-planned inference cheerily, ?Then you have no use for motivation either.?

Okarik pondered for a moment, ?I don't need motivation in the same way many others do, it is not what I use to climb over daily obstacles, for that I have determination and refusal to give in to weakness.?

Sparko stuck to his selection of prepared conclusions, ?You despise weakness then.?

Okarik shrugged and let his gaze climb upwards, ?In myself only. Others can be as shaky-kneed as they please as long as they don't bother me with it.?

?But still you choose to remain weak. Why do you deny a part of yourself?? Sparko made an effort to appear friendly.

Amusement glittered in Okariks wildly rolling eyes ?So we are through with a full circle. I hate weakness because weakness makes me doubdt my determination not to give in to you. Weakness tells me that I maybe am not strong enough to resist you.?

?I'll then have to ask the question you cannot answer; why? Face it again, you have no real reason not to accept the power I offer, I might even say that only by accepting it can you find your true purpose. Be sensible, fighting the power leaves you empty and meaningless.? Sparko took a deep breath before finishing. ?Besides, whatever you choose, we are close, the more you fight and the more you struggle, the closer we grow.?

Okarik answered confidently, ?I have decided not to accept you in any size or shape. I have mastered myself well enough, and I keep improving.? He then stopped to think for a moment, and finished wryly, ?One day i'm sure i'll even be able to talk to someone like Vicky without excess collateral damage.?

Sparko quickly diverted the conversation, ?She's a bitch, isn't she?? and continued in a patronizing tone, ?But don't worry, the childish anger she makes you feel is something you will learn to deal with, eventually.?

Okarik smelled a trap, it had been obvious from the start that Sparko had come prepared, but odd turns in conversations usually meant that a bothersome surprise lurked right behind the very next corner, Okarik frowned, and being somewhat more attentive now than before, asked, ?What??

?You don't seriously think that we are a god of senseless rage and slaughter, do you? That delusion belonged to Sarevok. I must say, i'm more of a fan of yours. Kill calmly, kill coldly, kill without a thought, yes, that's definately more to my liking.? Sparko rubbed his masked cheek thoughtfully.

Okarik quickly sprang up and pointed an accusing finger at the crouching piece of a god, ?Not you too! I've got my hands full enough with one fool spouting inanities here!?

Sparko rose slowly to his feet, standing at least a head and a half taller than Okarik. He asked kindly, ?But it is your philosophy, is it not? Once the fighting starts, there can be no hesitation, no regrets, and the coup de grâce is nothing but a logical follow up of the first strike. Perfectly cold blooded, perfectly reasonable.?

?It is NOT murder, it is reason, hesitation is death. Fools should learn to think before drawing steel, the people i kill are slain only by their own folly.? Okarik glared daggers at the taint.

?Perfectly cold blooded as i said, killing without guilt, without remorse. Perfect murder, dear child, that's what it is.? Sparko acted friendly and calm, but with a mocking sneer underneath.

Okarik's barrel of contained irritation exploded, so he leant back and boomed with a mock acknowledgement in his voice, ?I AM BECOME DEATH! THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS!?

Sparko shrugged, ?With the power few things would be beyond your reach, you could be what you wanted to be.?

The daggers no longer served their purpose well enough, so Okarik turned up the heat and began glaring meat cleavers, and failing to come up with a comment specifically for the situation, he dug up an old favourite, ?Eat shit and die happy!?

Only mildly disappointed, Sparko decided to call a break, ?You are becoming increasingly loathsome... We shall have to continue this discussion at another time.?

Okarik's vision dimmed for a moment, until blackness enveloped all of it.
Slowly in the drifting darkness he felt the irritation he'd felt dissipating, and a feeling of a hard stone floor under his back alerted him to his return to reality.
He quickly ran through his usual awakening rituals, checking that he really had woken up, that no-one had stuck daggers in his belly while he slept, and then just a quick repeat of anything worth remembering, and he felt himself ready.

He began observing his surroundings, but besides seeing large wooden splinters and pieces everywhere he didn't notice anything odd. Wait, wooden splinters? He sat up.
Then he heard it, a deep resounding snore emanated from behind him, he stood up slowly and turned around.
A massive armored skeleton sat slumped by the doorway to the armory, dozing peacefully with a mean looking axe on it's lap.
Okarik turned around again, now fully awake, and prepared for the sight that greeted him.
The door to his room, or what little remained of it, hung limply to the side on a single hinge, the rest, or what did not remain of it, littered the floor all around. The axe-marks on the door indicated that it had been brought down with forceful blows from the inside.
Okarik looked at the door, then he looked at the skeleton, then again at the door, and then again at the skeleton, then he connected the two as being probably classifiable as cause and effect.

Seeing no-one else standing around staring in shock and horror in the corridor, Okarik figured that the vandalization had occurred not long ago, probably under the cover of some kind of an silencing spell.
He entered his room, and as he'd expected, did not find Viconia inside.
However seeing the furniture along with what little of his equipment he'd left inside remaining intact seemed like a pleasant surprise; he along with a slight majority of the party would head for Umar Hills in the afternoon, and he sincerely didn't feel like spending the whole morning gathering replacement supplies.
Okarik decided to avenge the door later on, and headed for the kitchen.

As the sun climbed higher, the adventurers began waking up, one by one, eating breakfast, and drinking away any leftover hangovers from the last night, and a little past noon a group of six people and one huge skeleton stood outside the keep, ready to depart.

#4 WeeRLegion

WeeRLegion

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Posted 18 April 2007 - 12:40 AM

Righty, here's the next chapter.

Thanks to my trusty proofreader fro proofreading this for me. :ph34r:

Oh, one thing, there's some violence to be found here, consider this a warning.



Borderline Sanity ? Chapter 2, Imnesvale Mission Journal

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Now The Time Has Come When All Is Said And Done
We're Back Together On The Road It's Time To Fly
No More Time To Wait You Know It Feels So Great
Wearin Leather On A Horse Of Steel I Ride
I Ain't Waitin To Get Old I'm Runnin Hot I'm Never Cold
Kiss My Ass If You Don't Like Me I Don't Care
I Got My Wheels Got My Friends We're On The Road Again
We're All Crazy Gonna Ride Until We Die

Time To Burn You Losers Better Learn
No One Controls Our Goddamn Life
We'll Do Just What We Feel Riding Horses Made Of Steel
We're Here To Burn Up The Night

-Manowar, ?Return of the Warlord


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Imnesvale Mission ? Arrival and day 2

I am starting this journal quite late, considering that we arrived here on the evening of the day before yesterday.
But i think it can be pardoned; besides finding our way to the village inn we didn't make much progress worth mentioning on the day of our arrival, and little worth mentioning has thus far happened on this hangover-shadowed day.

Yesterday however, in the morning me, Yoshimo, Eddie, and Jan, sought out the mayor. I didn't take Korgan along, nor Vicky, the previous being little but trouble during fee negotiations, and the latter just being too much of a hassle to bother going through with whatever the case.
We agreed on a fixed payment of three hundred gold pieces up front, lodgings at the inn for a week, and another three hundred and an echanted suit of leather armor once the problems have been identified and dealt with.
The generous mister Lloyd had trouble scrounging up even that, but we convinced him that he'd better manage.
Oh yes, and all the loot we might run across is ours for the taking, though that point never was negotiable.

With the negotiations out of the way, we proceeded to investigating the phenomenon so that we can jump right to action once Jaheira arrives with the second detachment.
About this time problems began appearing.
I sent Edwin to fetch Vicky and Korgan, the three were supposed to orient themselves to the cabin of the missing ranger, a certain Merella, and Jan and Yoshimo were supposed to talk to the townspeople, and I myself headed in the approximate direction of the rumored Ogre bunch.

Edwin however was distracted by a weird long-faced young man with love troubles; I hear he didn't care at first, but when he learnt that a fellow hedgewizard in town was constructing a golem... Korgan told me the two went hunting for a mimic together. The silly bastard has yet to appear, I wonder if maybe a goblin has bitten his head off?
Korgan then? He reverted to drinking as soon as the group began splintering, well, he wouldn't have been that much use in an investigative property anyway.

Yoshimo and Jan then, I have no idea what happened to those two, and I'm not going to ask, but at the time we all were supposed to meet up to discuss our findings, they showed up with little information, but thoroughly covered in chicken blood and plumage (I assumed it was chicken blood; the plumage hinted at the direction), both of them were unusually cheerful...
I wonder if they're doing drugs?
But enough of that, Viconia failed to make an appearance, so in the end I was practically left to discuss my meager findings with myself.
The ogres I met apparently are not responsible, and if their questionable stories of fellows gone missing are true, I might infer that whatever we are dealing with here is something somewhat powerful.
Actually, the Ogres were interested in making a common profit deal with the village. For a little extra I agreed to act as spineless Lloyd's bodyguard for the negotiations (Whatever reasons he ever had to marry such an obese whipmaster of a woman must certainly be perverse).

At any rate, once I had concluded my pointless internal ponderings on the little pieces of information on my hands, I decided to head out to investigate the abduction scenes, which are located mostly by the outlying farmsteads.
An interesting thing of note is that as well as people, also animals have gone missing, which seems decrease the probability of a vampire infestation.
Of special intrest was a muddy site where a cow had supposedly disappeared from; what looked like gigantic clawmarks surrounded the location where deep hoof-imprints implied at the former presence of a bovine creature.
It really made me wish I had taken Jaheira with me here, she probably could have drawn more information from the site, and I fear animals, weather and other eventualities will mess up the spot before she arrives.
Actually I really do wish I'd taken her along, she maybe manages Vicky even worse than I do, but few of the other rotten apples dare to mess with her.
But then, who would I have left to hold the keep until Keldorn arrives?
Nalia maybe, she knows how to run the place, but with the Roenalls ready to pounce at any chance another abduction attempt wouldn't surprise me, and that would seriously hamper my plans right now.
And if I had taken Jaheira here, I would also have had to take that abhorrent know-it-all Anomen; leaving him without supervision would not certainly end well.
He maybe knows how to spank around wimpy choirboys, but running a semi-professional mercenary company, he truthfully wouldn't survive for a day in charge of these people I'm leading...

Anyway, looking at the scene, I figured that either someone here is trying to scare the people with a big hoax to hide a true malevolent agenda, or we're really dealing with a huge and somewhat intelligent predatory creature, and maybe it's smaller offspring.
Or quite possibly multiple overlapping murderous phenomenon which for some odd quirk of... randomness, have decided to nest around here at this time.

On the way back I was halted by three shaggy bearded highwaymen, dressed well according to the latest Unkempt Bushranger fashion manuals I bet.
They spouted a lot of nonsense about some Lord Valygar Unknown.
Lord in the middle of nothing, lording over squirrels and nuts maybe.
They didn't really enjoy my sense of humor, so we came to blows.
One of them, a half elf I think, had a longbow in his hands, so I picked him as my first target, he took his time drawing his sword when I charged, so I easily closed in to grappling range, and soon had him in a stranglehold from behind.
At that time a somewhat odd idea struck me; Bhaal accused me of being a cold blooded killer, well maybe I am, I don't know, but just to prove him wrong, I decided to spare two of the unlucky bastards.
I drew my blade, and decapitated the archer with a few strokes and a wrench, while at the same time keeping him between me and his friends.
Terror, one of the strongest weapons one can wield against dullards.
The archer's companions showed little interest in over-esteemed concepts such as loyalty and honor when I grabbed the loose head by it's long messy hair, (gahh, I still think I feel that horrible hair grease on my hand...) and began chasing the remaining bandits, screaming horribly and swinging my improvised flail in exaggeratedly wide arcs.
It's kind of backwards thinking I guess, but at least I didn't kill all of them.
And anyway, they were blocking my passage through an entirely public forest trail, definitely a criminal thing to do.

So in the end I checked the empty pockets of the corpse and dumped it in an anthill, and I did take a break by a small river to wash my clothes before entering the village.

Upon my return, I ran into three silly young men with aspirations to become adventurers, they wanted me to get them some bastard swords and beer; they had almost enough money for all of it.
Since I felt like doing a little practice, and since this seemed like a good chance, I took them out shopping; wooden lightweight practice swords, leather helmets, wooden shields...
I did expend some of my own personal funds even, maybe that nets me some points with one of the silly divinities we have floating around.

Anyhow, once the scrawny boys were well enough equipped, I took them to the empty marketplace by the inn, the time was late in the afternoon by now.

So I took off my sandals, and asked them to attack all at once, to ?prove that they were worthy of becoming adventurers?, how stupid is that? As if anyone needed to be worth anything for killing stuff, killing some more stuff, getting some gold, and living as they please ever after.
And their skills, pathetic, really, the first few rounds I easily intimidated them to capitulation with just a few funny grimaces, how very lame.

But then the funniest thing happened, Korgan lumbered out of the inn, and seeing what was going on, he was more than happy to provide the boys with some coaching.
Now they were coming from all directions, with a little more confidence and at least a very very basic idea of how to swing their sticks.
But it wasn't much of a challenge anyway. They were easily taken out one by one, and their fighting stances were just terrible, a simple kick on a shield sent any of them reeling.
With taunts and berating words we kept them going until nightfall, but by then they were exhausted, almost too tired to stand up, so we had to send them shuffling to their homes with their hard-earned toys.
We ourselves withdrew to the inn for a few guffaws and pints.

The bar room was choke-full of people, I figure many refugees had come from the farms located further away from the village to spend the night in the relative safety brought by the flock; moods were generally low, and besides the two of us drinking merrily things seemed quiet and tense, anyway, at some point Viconia entered and came to our table.

I was surprised to find then that she had actually been doing something useful, that she'd actually been sniffing around at Merella's cabin, but I guess she just is the type who does what she should, not because she wants to, but because she simply lacks interest in trivial distractions.
What she had found also proved to be interesting; journals and notes suggesting that the ranger had made herself scarce while delving into the mystery, and that a smaller band of previously hired adventurers had also gone missing in action, a fact that the mayor had seen fit not to mention during pay negotiations, not that it really mattered; somebody who leaves behind notes, just in case they don't return definitely has a loser's attitude, and losers are not expected to make it anywhere.

The notes indicated that all the people previously involved in the investigation had determined a nearby temple of a dead god to be the source of the scourge, and while they provided little information on the reasoning behind such an inference it still seemed like a good lead to go on.
I decided that tomorrow I would lead the half-party I had with me on a scouting patrol towards the estimate direction of the temple; a messy scribble, referred to as a ?map? accompanied the notes, and while there was no mention of useful landmarks or anything such, there was at least one stroke pointing northwards; the mess could at least be used to get basic directions.

Figuring that we'd achieved enough for one day, I ordered a round of drinks. And another, and another, it kept going for a while.
Maybe around midnight something peculiar happened, Viconia, slumped over the table well enough, began making out of place comments about me and asking weird questions.
I'm not quite sure of how I replied, my memory feels a bit fuzzy, but I suspect I might have called her a cactus.
After that I have little memory of what happened.
One detail does spring to mind though, at some point Korgan slurred out something obscene about elves, their silly games, and how dwarves as the supposedly superior race just get straight down to business.
Now why do i remember that? It reminds me of something... That stomach-wrenching day Imoen tricked me into viewing one of Ulraunt's illustrated esoteric dwarven manuals. Eww, the memory still makes me shudder.
At any rate, whatever inspired the dwarf to make such comments is beyond me, but I suspect it has everything to do with the tankard count on the table.

At some point I think I must have dozed off, or maybe I did manage to make my way upstairs to my room, at least that is where I woke up a while ago now, alone, thankfully.

I shall write more once something happens.

Edited by WeeRLegion, 18 April 2007 - 12:52 AM.


#5 WeeRLegion

WeeRLegion

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Posted 20 June 2007 - 01:38 PM

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Posted Image
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Some background... This little piece here is something i pretty much managed to write before i got caught up in other business; while i'm uncertain if i will post any further additions to the story, it seemed a terrible waste to just let this shorty collect dust in my archives...
I did cut it short in the end, i was planning on continuing with this chapter but, ahh, well see...
So here we go, recently polished according to the top secret instructinos i received from my top secret advisor who thinks his avatar is pretty. :cheers:



Borderline Sanity ? Chapter 3,
Psychology 911

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It's time to play the game...
Time to play the game! hahaha

It's all about the game and how you play it.
All about control and if you can take it.
All about your debt and if you can pay it.
It's all about pain and who's gonna make it.

I am the game, you don't wanna play me.
I am control, no way you can change me.
I am heavy debt, no way you can pay me.
I am the pain and I know you can't take me.

-MOTÖRHEAD, ?Play the game?


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The by now familiar dreamscape of Candlekeep stretched far and wide, and Okarik once more found himself ensnared in it.
This time however he found himself standing further away from the keep, at the crossroads; south to Nashkel, north to the Friendly Arm Inn, or that is what the sign should have read, as it now stood, the blurred letters could not be deciphered.
On the sign stood Imoen, balancing herself on one foot.
She swiveled around to look at Okarik, and asked, ?Why do you pretend to be so reasonable??

Okarik twisted his lips, and questioned back, ?What do you mean, ?pretend?? I pretend nothing.?

Imoen shrugged, ?I don't think your dragon-climbing stunt anyhow fits in the definition of reasonable.?

Okarik shrugged also, and answered reflectively, ?It's one of those once, or twice, or maybe thrice, in a life-time, thingies.?

Imoen seemed bemused, ?You call that reasonable??

Okarik tleapt to his defense, ?Hey, I managed to distract the beast!?

Bemusement to amusement, Imoen chuckled and challenged, ?You kinda managed to distract everyone else too, flying to the roof like that... And diving head-first for the floor afterwards...?

?Well...? Okarik pondered, ?The flight-plan went a bit awry, it really is something I should practice more often.?

?Falling down on your head?? Imoen asked with feigned innocence.

Okarik snorted, ?Falling down, NOT, on my head.?

Imoen would not quit teasing however, and she went on, ?Practice being flung about by dragons then, eh??

A raised eyebrow signalled a question on the way, ?Are you only going to criticize my dragon-slaying abilities??

?Nahh.? Imoen jumped down and turned to look elsewhere with a ponderous look on her black and white face.

Okarik lowered his raised eyebrow, and raised the other, ?So what's your point then??

Imoen seemed almost hesitant to answer, ?Well... It's kind of odd, how you really don't dare to care much for anyone, claim to be reasonable, but still go about pulling crazy stunts like that without any care for your own safety...?

?Hey! I care for my sister... And what's so wonderful about caring anyway? Caring blinds reason. Reason is GOOD.? To emphasize the last word Okarik raised his thumbs and grinned theatrically.

?I wouldn't be worried about losing reason...? Imoen stuck out her tongue, ?Not before having any reason to lose anyway, heehee... Besides, you say you care for Immy? What's so reasonable about that then??

Sticking to his mocking theatrics, Okarik pounced up with eyes bulging and an expression of utter astonishment on his face, and cried out with a shock flavoured voice, ?A krazy fighrment of my imakhrination is lekhturing ME about hreason!?

But Imoen only grinned, ?Yup! See for yourself how crazy you are!?

Okarik returned with a matter-of-fact style comment, ?I'll grumble at you for that.?

Still smiling, Imoen shrugged off the threat, ?Shucks. Anyway, I've got a very official proposal to make, so do listen.?

Seeing a chance to deliver on his promise, Okarik lifted up his hand, palm upwards. He nodded courteously at Imoen, ?My hand is all ears.?

?Aw, I'm sorry...? Imoen pouted ?Look, I didn't mean to offend, it's just that you... Ahh...? but then she decided to reconsider her phrasing, ?Just listen. Alright??

Okarik reflected for a moment, ?Well, whatever, shoot.?

?Good! So here's the deal: I don't think you dare to care, so prove me wrong! Care for the people close to you for, ahh, let's make it a day! Like a friend you know, nothing weird, just, be a caring friend.? Imoen began twiddling her thumbs in cheerful anticipation of an answer.

Okarik rolled his eyes in pace with the lazily spinning fingers, ?That's just silly.?

Imoen leant closer, fingers still busily busying themselves, ?Do you fear getting hurt THAT much??.

Missing his usual sandals, Okarik stood up on his tiptoes to match the figment eye to eye. He replied calmly and clearly, ?No. I don't want to mess up my concentration. And I don't fear getting hurt either. At all.?

Imoen disputed such an claim, ?Chicken!?

?It's stupid!?

?Chicken!?

?Ridiculous!?

?Chicken!?

?Stop that!?

?Wabbit! Wabbit! Wabbit!?

Okarik stomped his foot firmly on the ground and snarled, ?Fine! But once I'm through, you're out, got it? No more chickens, wabbits, weird accusations or other, disturbing, nightly visitations.?

A cheerful grin sealed the agreement, ?Deal! If you manage to actually care about your ?party associates? for as much as a day, I'll disappear, but if you fail... The you let me inside Candlekeep!?

Okarik's focus had already shifted from the conversation to other matters; how to best lounge himself on a dead lawn, so he answered absentmindedly ?Yes, yes, yes... Wait... Is there something, ?special?, about Candlekeep??

Imoen refused to answer though, and she merely chirped grinningly, ?A deal 's a deal! Gimmie five!?

Okarik lacked interest in pursuing the matter at the moment, so he merely waved his hand dismissively and muttered lazily while trying to catch some shut eye, ?Nope, now piss off, I've a need to rest and you're seriously hindering such pursuits.?

Imoen looked up an around, ?Well... Uhh, Sparko...?

?Fine, fine, send the bastard in, and make it quick.? Okarik rested his head on his hands and closed his eyes in hopes of awakening before he'd need to deal with another troublesome mental parasite.
His hopes quickly dissipated however, as a familiar voice addressed him.

?You know, I've been thinking...?

?Good for you.? Okarik drawled.

But Sparko did not let any interjections distract him from his speech, ?...I don't think we are going to get very far with the traditional approaches I coached myself into using before I split up.?

?Right.?

A dreamy look took over the misplaced face of Jon Irenicus', and Sparko spoke in a dreamily matching tone, ?You see, there are SO many flaws of character in you that I can point out, so many corpses in your wake I can refer to... So many beautiful accusations to make...?

?Get on with it...? Okarik snarled.

Sparko seemed entirely sunken in his external monologue, ?But it simply is not working... Somehow I just can see you illogically shrugging off anything and answering in any uncouth way you see fit, no matter what I say...?

?Me too. Now, forward! Forward!?

?...So I deviced another way, one I believe will make things easier for the both of us.? Surreality began dawning on Sparko, and his focus turned back to the current moment.

?Here, take this.?

Sparko handed over a small pamphlet written with blood red letters on black glossy paper. On the cover posed a smug looking balor with thumbs held high.
The title read ?Why Bhaal??, supported by ?Bhaal is good for the soul!? as subtitles assigned to the poster-boy demon.

Okarik snorted, ?Excrement.?

?No, please, time flows soo slowly here with nothing to do. Do read it, weight your options, then you can go about any silly business you agreed with that pointless pipsqueak lurking hereabouts.?

Okarik wanted to jump up, perform a load of mocking theatrics, scream ?Why Bhaal? Why?!? from the top of his lungs, but seeing Sparko disappearing without a trace, he decided not to amuse himself overly much.
He looked around, but nothing happened, nothing further appeared out of nowhere to save him from boredom.
Muttering curses under his breath he set himself to reading the pamphlet.

Turning the first page, he found a list of reasons to embrace Bhaalist doctrines.


1.The doctrine of Bhaal seeks permanent solutions, and provides them. That annoying neighbor tinkering noisily with that wheelbarrow all day? The solution is simple; murder.
Someone might recommend forgiveness... well take our word for it, forgiveness is a temporary solution, the troubles will resurface.
Ask Kossuth and he might recommend Arson. That might serve to drive away your neighbor, but when you stop to think about what harm he and his wheelbarrows will do wherever he then ends up at... We urge you to be altruistic, we heartily urge you to choose murder.

2.Bhaal cares for you. That's right, you heard us. Bhaal is here for you, standing for YOUR deepest needs. Stress relief? Bhaal recommends that you kill a score of stray cats for that.
Need some cash? Murder a useless, rich looking, bystander at the first opportunity.
Unfair demands placed on your shoulders? A murder committed with Bhaal's personal tutorship will practically remove any problem you may be experiencing.


A scribbled side note by Sparko explained that most of the content had been borrowed from outdated Bhaalist tracts, and that the good stuff could be found on the last pages.
Okarik promptly skipped through most of the murderous ravings, ending up on the second to last opening.
The page detailed the requirements and profits of becoming one of Bhaal's faithful followers.

... On top of all that, Bhaal also assures that you will lead a purposeful, spiritual and happy life! You need but commit yourself to traveling the world, and murdering a minimum of one man a week!
You can even skip a week if you with great zeal take the lives of two people one week! And a further week for every two murders after that!
Bhaal offers you flexible, pure bliss! And what is even better is that you won't even WANT to keep any vacations; for living close to Lord Bhaal you will have learned the importance of steady murder rates from the perspective of parallell intrest growth on your afterlife reward stack! You will never even WANT to stop!


Okarik snorted and turned to the last pages.
The last opening however, seemed more detailed than the previous ones; the image of a grinning six-limbed creature with an overdose of teeth and fangs decorated the center.
The accompanying text detailed the commitments required from someone extremely devoted, one ?Touched by Bhaal? to be granted the great honor of such an murderous shape.
Sparko's side notes explained and applied the information to The Children.
Okarik felt a bit of loathing and amusement at the free-market style advertisement, but on the other hand he was fascinated by the creature described; a few extra arms could be useful in a pinch, sometimes two just were not enough.

He contemplated tossing the pamphlet, but ended up pocketing it, just in case.
Not that he expected himself to have it with him when he'd wake up, but just so he could find it when he'd go to sleep again...

Then the surroundings began slowly growing dimmer, darker, gloomier, and ultimately pitch black, and he began sensing signs of the real world around him.

Edited by WeeRLegion, 20 June 2007 - 01:53 PM.