Well, I figured I'd give this a try…hopefully it will be at least a little better than the first story I stuck up here…. Ah well.
Anyway, this is going to be following the path that the PC follows in BGII. Which I have played way too many times…^.^ That said, the main character here is an air genasi by the name of Inwë
Nénharma, who is a Shadowdancer. And, obviously enough, a child of Bhaal.
And on to the disclaimer, although considering that this is a fan fiction site, it seems a little obvious. Ah well. I don't own BGII, its various characters, places, etc. Be cool if I did though…then I'd be the person from Bioware that my aunt and uncle know…Aha. BUT. I will be using bits of conversation from the actual game, and because it'll be a pain to say exactly which, and I don't want to have them awkwardly bolded, I shall just double the quotation marks. I think that works. So on we go. And if you'd be kind enough to leave a review, it would be most appreciated…. Please? Aha.
"Ah, it seems you have finally awoken." The voice echoed in the dark. Was I awake? Maybe…. The voice didn't help; I heard it in my dreams. The pain? No, that stayed with me too. I was so tired. Maybe I was awake, then. That wasn't exactly a comforting thought, although it was good to know that I could still use some sort of logic.
""It is time for more…experiments."" My heart raced, a part of me actually caring enough to panic. Opening my eyes, I looked up to the face of my captor. His eyes, so devoid of emotion, reflected the flickering lights of the braziers. Veins stood out in his face and neck; I could see the thick blue line pulsing in his neck. Cracked lips moved as he began a spell, and, as always, I scrambled as far from his as I could. Of course, the fact that I was in a cage (not a cell, a cage. Maybe six feet in diameter.) meant that I moved only a few inches before my back pressed against the cold bars.
The final syllable of his spell faded, and I shut my eyes against the tiny black daggers I saw appearing. Rift daggers. But closing my eyes only meant that I couldn't see them as they approached, or their caster watching with the air of a scientist waiting to see if his experiment will work this time. I felt each agonizingly slow incision, and heard only my own screaming echoing.
"Inwë? Inwë, get up! C'mon, we've gotta get out of here!" My eyes snapped open at the voice whose familiarity held no ties to torture.
"Imoen?" The mage stood before my cage, the door now open. Her red-purple hair was a mess, her clothing torn and bloody. I probably looked little better. "How did you get out?" I asked, pulling myself to my feet.
"My cell was damaged, there's fighting going on, and I dunno what's happening."
"D'you know where anyone else is? I don't – Nn, shit!" My body was screaming in protest as I walked beside Imoen.
"I think I heard Minsc," she said, "Don't think he's too far. But I don't know about anyone else."
She pulled open a door to our left, and inside the room I could see a table covered in various blades, and polearms hanging on the wall. I stepped in first, and froze. Imoen came up behind me, but seemed impressed rather than afraid, letting out a low whistle. A huge, relatively man-shaped stone stood in the corner of the room, its eyes fixed upon us.
"A golem. That's some pretty powerful magic. Good thing is, they can't think. They'll just do what they're told to do, so if he hasn't attacked yet, I don't think he will."
Imoen walked up to it, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest as the creature turned to face her.
"What is this place?" she asked, far too loudly, in my opinion.
"The master does not wish you to be out of your cells. You will return." The golem's voice was deep, and sounded more like boulders rubbing against each other than any voice I'd heard. I snorted at its command, and stepped over to the table. "Not likely," I muttered.
"Who is 'the master'?" Imoen asked.
"You will return to your cells."
"I don't think he's in the mood to chat," I said, lifting a rapier from the table. I set it down again, noticing a chest in the corner. As Imoen looked the weapons over, I examined the chest, searching for traps. I couldn't see any, and it was unlocked, so I flipped the lid up. Inside there were various types of armor. Pushing my blue-black hair out of my face, I grabbed some dark leather, holding it up to see the size.
I tried it on, finding it to be only a little big. I kept it on, thinking it unlikely that we'd find any tailored to our sizes here; it was unlikely that any of our gear remained. Everything we'd owned had had an enchantment of some sort, and from what I could tell, our captor liked magic. If any of it was still here, it was probably lying in a heap of scrap metal, all magic removed.
Turning back to the table, I saw Imoen rubbing her hands forcefully over her forehead.
"You okay?" I asked. Of course, as soon as the words left my mouth I realized how ridiculous they were. Neither of us was 'okay'.
"My head hurts," she said, looking up. "It's- it's like my bones made a little dagger, and it just- it won't…go away. Don't look at me like that; it just hurts, all right? You know what I mean, though. He didn't spare you the knives any more than me. I could hear you screaming." She picked up a short sword, turning it over in her hands. "I'm sorry, I just…need to get out of here."
"So do I," I said, taking both the rapier and a dagger. "Gods, what in the hells is this, anyway? He just leaves all these weapons out in the open? Mind you, there's nothing for them, unless he's hidden them." Irritably, I strode towards the door, and saw, to my surprise, a key. Hanging on a hook. Beside the door. "You're not serious," I said. "Why not hang it outside a cell, while giving the occupant a string, maybe some wax, some wire?" Regardless of my disbelief, I pulled it down. "Well, shall we go find who we can?" I asked Imoen as she walked over, resisting the urge to lean back against the doorframe.
""Inwë, promise we won't look back. I don't care what kind of power this guy thinks he can unlock in you. I can't stand all these shadows."
I shook my head, ignoring its threat to explode. "Let's just get the hell out of here."
So. Hopefully that wasn't a complete failure. I don't think so, but what do I know? Aha. Uhm, yeah…. And again, I'd really, really appreciate reviews. Sil vous plait.
Yours 'till death,
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