Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a true fictional story. It's loosely based on NWN, in that it uses some of the D&D stats and NWN locations, creatures, etc... However, I said loosely based, so there are probably a few things that don't fit with the NWN timeline. Constructive criticism, please!

Prologue

The moment I jerked awake, I knew something was wrong. There was no light in the window, no sounds of bustling peasants outside, not a hint of fresh bread in the kitchen.

Then I suddenly remembered: it was the middle of the night!

Still, there was that strange sense of unfamiliar, the unknown.

"FIRE!"

Something definitely was wrong. That voice had been my father's, and he definitely sounded panicked. Then it hit me: A fire! I could smell the smoke seeping under the door to my bedroom. I quickly jumped out of bed and grabbed a cloak, searching for the door in the dark.

My hand found the knob and wrenched the heavy wooden barrier open. The hall wasn't entirely filled with smoke yet, but it was steadily slithering through the cracks in the stairway door. Coughing, I opened it and ran down the stairs.

In the kitchen, I saw flames dancing all around the store cabinets. My first thought was that the oven had not been extinguished before bed, and the chimney had caught, but I looked to the left and my theory was lost. The whole lounging room was alight! My father was inside, throwing all my mother's potted plants, and their water supply, onto the flames wherever he could reach. My next thought was to go help him, but just as I was starting to run, my father's clothes caught alight.

He began to run towards me, and the possible exit through a window, but suddenly a piece of the thick ceiling fell down in front of the door, blocking his exit. I began to feel tears in my eyes. There was no other escape route from that room...

I suddenly remembered that I was also in danger. I ran towards the stairs, thinking to escape from an upstairs window, as the front and back doors were both blocked. I moved as fast as I could, when a large piece of the now burning stairwell fell and blocked the passage. A corner of the heavy oak collided with the side of my head.

I don't know how long I lay there. It seemed like eons, but it must have been only minutes, as I hadn't died yet. I slowly realized I was being burned alive. Just as the pain and flame were about to thrust me into unconsciousness, I felt two strong arms lift my 9 year-old frail body up and carry me out of the house. Ah, the cool autumn air!

I dimly saw light, which meant it was probably dawn, but I couldn't really tell. As the mysterious savior doused the flames covering me with a blanket, I began to lapse into a coma...