Jump to content


Member Since 18 Oct 2004
Offline Last Active Aug 19 2005 07:19 PM

Topics I've Started

The Coffin

10 August 2005 - 05:19 AM

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights and its expansions are property of Bioware.

The Coffin

The sudden darkness, the voices around him, the swimming sensation of the sudden teleportation, the crawling feeling over his skin from the geas and the heavy blood loss from several wounds weren't what was causing Silva's knees to buckle as he blindly reached for Nathyrra's shoulder for support. The half-elven ranger let his eyes slip into infravision, the green of them taken on an emerald glow. The noise had quieted and another drow female was in front of him?Silva watched her lips move as she greeted Nathyrra, the assassin bowing her head instead of curtsying as not to set Silva off. Nathyrra's voice seemed to echo off the walls and the noise made Silva groan softly, bowing his head to stare at the floor.

The weight of the ceiling was urging him to meet that cold stone floor?an uninteresting gray that swirled in his vision. The mists of Limbo came briefly to mind as Silva felt his hand slip from Nathyrra's shoulder and he was suddenly kneeling on the ground. Deekin's voice cut through the other two that sounded, ringing in his ears. The only clear word Silva heard as his muscles gave up on him and his vision faded to black.


"Boss? Deekin thinks Boss should wake up now." Silva groaned, as he opened his eyes the suddenness of seeing heat patterns he was unused to causing his vision to dance. Pushing mouse brown hair from his face the ranger tried again, blinking several times. Deekin was sitting on a stool next to the bed the half-elf was in, the kobold's lute neatly on his lap. "Oh, you awake? Drow lady wanted Deekin to tells her when you awake." The bard informed Silva as he slipped off the stool, keeping his eyes in contact with the ranger.

"Deekin." The word was soft but Deekin stilled waiting for the half-elf to sit up. "Deekin?I wanna check?do you feel that?" The kobold looked around and then stared at Silva confused.

"Feel what?"

"That?that weight! Gods it's crushing me I?" Silva paused, his eyes growing wide as he just stared at the wall. He had felt the weight above him so acutely now that the sky was gone but what he hadn't noticed was the walls, slowing moving towards him at such a speed only he would notice it.

"Boss?" Concern was heavy in the kobold's voice as he reached out to place a scaled hand on Silva's knee. The half-elf's entire body seemed to be shaking and at some point Silva's arms had wrapped around his lithe form. "Boss?" Deekin couldn't help but think for a fleeting moment how small and childlike the half-elf looked at that moment. Deekin applied pressure to the ranger's knee to get his attention but he just kept staring at the wall in front of him. At that point panic began to rise in the kobold's chest. He tried calling to his boss a few more times but save for trembling Silva was unresponsive. Racing from the room Deekin went to find the drow lady that had brought them here, missing the words that came in a sudden bout of laughter from Silva.

"I can't breathe! I'm going to die!" He found it hilarious. The crushing ceiling above him and the walls slowly closing in?oxygen becoming more and more precious as the room grew smaller and Silva couldn't help but think that by the time Deekin came back he'd be in a coffin. That would save time and they wouldn't have to bury him because he was already underground. Silva fell back harshly on the bed, still laughing. Several of his wounds reopened with this action but Silva couldn't have given a damn at that moment. He was going to be crushed or suffocate, what difference would it make?

Then it hit Silva and suddenly the laughing stopped. He was going to die. He looked up at the ceiling that threatened to fall any moment. Turning his head Silva noticed the walls had come closer a foot or so, the sound of stone grinding against stone growing louder in his ears. Tiny chips and fragments of rock littered the gray floor, vibrating against it as the walls moved. Silva's breath had become paced in a way that an on looker would know was forced as he tried to conserve air. So this was how he was going to leave this world?

"Silva?" Nathyrra's voice cut through the thinning air, steadying the heavy ceiling and slamming the walls back into their rightful places. The floor became free of pebbles and air became abundant once again. "Silva!" This time the worry originally in the drow's voice was replaced with annoyance. First the male flipped out his companion and then he opens his wounds all without leaving the confines of the bed they had provided him when he collapsed in the prayer room.

"Is Boss okay?" Deekin asked peeking around the assassin at the figure on the bed. Silva was staring in shock at the walls, only barely aware of the pair's presence in the room.

"And he's going to save us all?" Nathyrra looked up from Silva as she had been going over what he had done to himself. A red haired tiefling leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Nathyrra just sighed and shook her head.

"It's just shock I'm sure. You should have more faith in the Seer Valen." She said, sitting Silva up like one would a child. And he did seem like a child as he absently pulled at his left sleeve his lips moving, forming silent words like a youngster trying to remember something.

"What happened to the walls?" At this the tiefling, Valen, cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Deekin for a clue as to what that meant. Deekin was appraising the scene before him with a confused look on his face and didn't seem to notice that for a brief moment Valen's blue eyes had been on him.

"What does that mean, 'What happened to the walls'?" Valen asked, the question directed at Nathyrra. She shrugged, stepping back thoughtfully and noting that damage was minimum. She turned to the weaponmaster, frowning.

"How should I know? Would it kill you to acknowledge him at least?"

"I was not with you when you were collecting him I had thought it had to do with those events." The tiefling snapped back. It was a logical assumption as the half-elf and his reptilian companion had only been in the Underdark a few hours?hours being wasted by the ranger's catatonic state.

"Closer?closer?closer?" All eyes turned to the half-elf who was now hugging his knees, rocking back and forth and murmuring the words as if trying to recall the tune to a song. Both Nathyrra and Valen glanced around the room looking for something out of place on the stone but nothing was amiss.

"Boss went crazy like man upstairs." Deekin said, his voice seeming louder than it was over the soft humming Silva had taken to. The humming stopped.

"The geas?if not the walls, if not the blood, if not the lack of air and if the ceiling doesn't fall then the geas kills me here." The words were said in a cheerful voice, a tune playing on every syllable like that of a children's rhyme as they played on the streets.

"The kobold has a point, think about it even I'm not used to the weight above us. He's partly elven, it must be playing tricks on his mind." Nathyrra shook her head, sitting in the stool Deekin had long since abandoned.

"So, what does this mean? The Seer was wrong? Or that we should resign ourselves to die fighting against the Valsharess?" The drow sighed and then looked over at Valen fully expecting to see a smirk on his pale features. There wasn't one. The tiefling opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Silva who was staring intently at the seam between the far wall and the roof.

"Falling down?" On impulse the three other occupants in the room looked up at the ceiling but saw nothing. Silva noticed this and smiled to himself, they didn't see what he saw; hear what he heard. Cracks were beginning to form as the walls shuddered under the strain of the solid rock the supported, once again small pieces of stone found a home on a vibrating floor.

"Maybe if we leaves and comes back Boss will be normal?" Deekin suggested, already creeping towards the exit. Silva was beginning to freak him out. Nathyrra stood, shrugging.

"What else can we do?" She reasoned as the trio left. Silva smiled after them, it was better this way. Coffins weren't meant to be shared. A resounding crack echoed through the room as the wall nearest him was scarred by the shear pressure on it. He was going to die. It wasn't a joke, it wasn't a sad thing?it was life. There were so many things against him anyway. Silva laughed to himself, thinking all the while as the walls began to crumble, "At least it will be quick."

Let Justice Be Done

09 August 2005 - 09:36 PM

Disclaimer:  Neverwinter Nights is the property of Bioware, Anita and Darien are fictional.

Author's Note:  The more I think about it, the more I think of the what ifs that are accompanied with the death of Fenthick Moss.  The plot would be dramatically different if he had lived?wouldn't it?

Let Justice Be Done

Darien pushed his way through the mob, the crowd ignoring his shouts to be left through as they chanted for justice to be done.  Of course they wouldn't listen to him, he had no impact, his face was unknown.  He, the coward that had used magic to save his own hide when the Academy had been attacked.  Darien wasn't the best sorcerer in the world, heck he didn't even want to be one.  His magic didn't even work properly most of the time and when it did he was using it to run away.

"E-excuse me!"  Darien said, shoving past a half-orc who shot the spell caster a look of death.  Darien didn't stop to think about it, his only goal to get to the tree in time.  Fenthick Moss, cleric of Tyr was to be hung within the hour and Darien aimed to stop it.  Fenthick didn't deserve death, being na´ve wasn't a crime.  Aribeth had trusted Desther too, heck everyone had.  Darien shook his head, making ebon hair fall into his eyes.  He quickly brushed it aside as he shouldered past a pair of somber looking elves dressed in clerical robes.  An island of calm amidst a raging sea of people.  The sorcerer didn't understand why Fenthick was singled out.

"Does no one here believe in redemption?"  He cried; only those around him heard but no one listened.  In that moment Darien paused.  Why was he doing this?  Why did he need to stop this at all?  Darien's mind flew back to what he had seen earlier that day, what he had heard.  Aribeth de Tylmarande crying on her sister Anita's shoulder.  It had been?disturbing to see the Lady Aribeth in such a state, to see the expression on Lady Anita's face.  She was at a loss, Anita who, since stepping from the Academy alive had seemed to know the answer to everything at loss.  Anita had had no words, and Aribeth only tears.  Darien didn't remember how long he spent watching the two, listening to Aribeth's sobs and Anita's humming.  Nor did he remember hearing Aribeth asking her sister to leave because suddenly Anita was in front of him and Darien was looking into teary brown eyes.  

Even in sadness Anita was beautiful.  Everyone in the Academy had agreed that and Darien had been amongst Anita's many admirers.  He had only caught glimpses of her in the corridors as their curriculums were different but that's all one needs to have an infatuation.  Anita had also been Aribeth favorite, for more reasons than blood.  The younger sister wanted nothing more than to earn Aribeth's favor, so Anita pushed herself past her limits, to the point of collapsing.  If she thought it would make Aribeth happy Anita would do it.  Aribeth could have told her to destroy an entire civilization and she would have done it.  There was no doubt how much Anita loved her sister.  Some accused her of idolatry against Tyr so much was her love.

"I'm lost?" Darien had been shocked at the words.  Then he understood.  Understood how dependant Anita was on Aribeth, so much so that her sister's moods were her own.  Aribeth was dealing with conflicting emotions leaving Anita out at sea.  "I'm lost?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Darien had asked.  Anita looked at him in silence for a moment then smiled.

"Because you're not watching." And then she went on until bursting into tears held back, because she had needed to be the strong one while in that room.  It was unsettling and Darien swore never to see Anita cry again.  

That was why he was here, shoving through a crowd of bloodthirsty civilians.  In order to make Anita happy Darien needed to make Aribeth happy and as far as he knew the only way to do that was to keep Fenthick Moss alive.

"Out of my way please! Um, excuse me!  C-coming through."  He was closer now, about two-thirds into the crowd, which was quite large despite the thinned population due to the plague, which was solely Desther's fault.  Darien sighed as he dodged about a halfling with reddish brown hair picking pockets as he too moved through the throng.  Darien had seen him in the temple, using the place as sanctuary.  Darien didn't have time to think about the halfling, however, quite frankly Darien just didn't have time.

At last he stumbled forwards into a clearing, falling near the stool on which stood Fenthick Moss.  A guard nearby yanked Darien roughly to his feet, meaning to push the Academy survivor back but Darien broke free of the man's grasp and promptly turned him into a statue.  The spell was foreign to Darien, pulled from the air out of panic.  The angered shouts from the surrounding crowd lessened before coming back in full force and Darien turned to Fenthick, who was looking at him as if he were insane.

"Be safe."  Darien said, placing his hands on Fenthick's shoulders.  The cleric opened his mouth to answer but whatever he said was lost to the sorcerer for Fenthick had been teleported away much in the same manner Darien had used to drop himself into a guard tower on the east wall.  Where Fenthick was now though, Darien had no clue.

"People of Neverwinter!  Hear my words!"  He shouted, the voices quieted a bit.  "You have been wronged, that is sure!  You had not felt justified at the real enemy's death for only Desther was to blame!  You called for Fenthick Moss's blood!  Well now he is not here and who to blame?!  I am to blame!  If you feel the need for justice find it in my blood, one innocent man's life for another!"  The noise level rose once again and the guard and executioner hesitantly grabbed him, not wishing the same fate as the man Darien had turned to stone.  Darien smiled as the rope was tightened around his neck, this was better.  No one would think twice about his death and Anita would not cry again.  Everyone would win.  And that was his last though as he felt the stool disappear from beneath his feet.

Meanwhile Anita was in search of her sister.  He face had been washed free of the tear streaks but worry was in her eyes.

"She must have gone off into the woods to be alone then."  Anita said, when a cleric burst into the room.

"Lady Anita!  You'll never believe it!"  As Anita rushed from the temple Aribeth cried into the roots of a large tree, underneath a carving she and Fenthick had made when Fenthick had first kissed her.  Aribeth had made it her place of comfort but now she wasn't sure why.  A twig snapped and her head shot up.

"Anita?"  She asked, sitting up and then gasping when she saw who it was.

"I'm afraid not."  Aribeth shook her head, pushing the dark thoughts that had begun to gather away.  Standing she embraced the cleric, almost as if to make sure he was real.  "I thought by now you'd be dead Fenthick?I was beginning to doubt Tyr's justice."

"I think Tyr sent me an angel."

Portrait switching

15 June 2005 - 06:53 PM

Is there a way to switch an NPC's portrait in the middle of the game? Or do I have to create an entirely different creature for that?

Coding help

15 April 2005 - 12:36 AM

I'm attempting to make a pair of NPCs that both join and leave the party together.  I am aware that Jaheira and Kahlid and Minsc and his old witch do so in BG1 but I can't find the code for that.

Comments on Sola's FF: The Turnip Named Desire

29 November 2004 - 02:21 AM

This is great!  I've seen Solaufein personafied in many ways but I must say I enjoyed your characterazation(sp?) of him.  I've never seen a Solaufein/Imoen or Jaheira/Jan pairing before so full points on originality as far as couplings go.  As for having Solafein rewrite the Turmish Play, I had a hard time not laughing.   :lol:

Although I do believe I had a minor issue with Imoen and all the...pink.  As hyper and bubbly as she is I just can't see Imoen having an entire wardrobe of pink, nor can I see her in a dress but it's your fic so I'll shut up now...