@Blackraven: aye, I'm glad he left too. There are several places in that tower which are downright deadly. The tower is doable, but for a warrior no-reload? Too risky.
@hispls: I've actually already finished the run, and am going back to my screenshots to write this up. So no, he won't be returning. Now, if the game have him a dwarven thief NPC to join with? Then the tower would have happened, no doubt about it!
I too would have loved it. I've got little experience with multiplayer gaming, but I found it a lot of fun. Slow typing wouldn't be a huge deal for me (I find it impressive enough that people are even capable of playing this game on a phone). Finding the time to play and lags due to connection problems are common issues though.
Early congrats btw for having completed the game Looking forward to reading the details, and I hope we'll see more of Durak in Amn.
@Blackraven: aye, I'm glad he left too. There are several places in that tower which are downright deadly. The tower is doable, but for a warrior no-reload? Too risky.
@hispls: I've actually already finished the run, and am going back to my screenshots to write this up. So no, he won't be returning. Now, if the game have him a dwarven thief NPC to join with? Then the tower would have happened, no doubt about it!
Really? You can't think of a popular story where some dwarven fighters and say.... for example.... a wizard and a Halfling thief go on an epic quest to reclaim a long fallen dwarven city? Do us a favor and pull a close-to-the-end save game recruit a team, and do the WHOLE TOWER. I'll even allow you 3 reloads if needed for the sake of adding to this grand tale.
Thanks for taking the time to post this though. A fine read.
"Would you quiet down? Or would you like for all of Nashkel to hear us?"
Durak and Xan were in the Nashkel tavern. Several empty pints were strewn about the table, evidence of Durak's impatience to receive his information. Xan had finally broken the code on the letters, and had found what Durak wanted to know. Apparently Mulhay had a contact, a wizard by the name of Tranzig. The wizard would come once a month to Felderpost's Inn to receive the half-orc's status reports.
"Before you get so excited that you run off and get yourself killed, remember that it has been several days since you cleared the Nashkel minds. Your foes likely know of Mulhay's death. Tranzig may not even be there."
"All the more reason for us to get off our arses and tae go now!" Durak surged to his feet, but stopped when he saw that the elf wasn't moving.
"We delude ourselves to think that our pitiable band will stand up to our enemies. I will be returning to Everska with this information so a proper response can be made."
"But...they'll get away. We've got tae kill 'em, now!"
"Oh really? Well then, let us save our effort and just lie down and die! Do you think that there will only be kolbolds to come? Whomever is behind this is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. I will not throw my life away like...like Everain!"
"Who?"
"Oh what's the point? Life...is so hollow."
Durak gave the elf one last bemused look before walking out of the tavern. Rangers who talked to hamsters. Kolbolds poisoning iron. Babbling elves. He came to the conclusion that the world had gone insane and he was the last sane person left. So with that, he walked off, alone, to hunt down the mage...
When in Beregost, Durak marched straight to Felderpost's Inn. Pushing his way through the crowded common hall, he went straight for the apartments. A mage...he was looking for a mage. That meant an impractical robe to trip on, poor hygiene (from his experience, the ingredients needed to cast spells often didn't smell all that great after a few weeks) and most likely some sort of facial hair to look more mysterious. He was almost disappointed when he came into a room and found a young, beardless man wearing a simple robe.
"Ye be Tranzig?"
"And who wants to know?"
"Interesting letters ye got on that desk. Mind if I take a look?"
Before the mage could reply, his steel clad fist hit Tranzig square in the stomach. The man doubled over in surprise and pain. Now at eye level, Durak's second blow hit the mage on the side of the head. Given his prodigious strength and metal gauntlet, he felt Tranzig's skull break beneath the impact. For good measure he stomped on the prone man's neck. You could never tell with wizards.
Almost immediately Durak regretted his hasty actions. What if these letters were coded too? With trepidation he reached for them. They were. He cursed, loudly, and turned around to kick the mage's body. Once he had tired himself out, he turned his attention to the letters and decided to try and read them.
Now, Durak was no fool. He had grown up in Candlekeep. He had been educated. But they were far, far beyond him. All that he could make out was that the letters contained the word 'iron' several times, which was really no surprise...
---
That night Durak lost himself in his cups at the Jovial Juggler. It was there that he met a flaming fist mercenary. Her men were stranded in the south due to the heavy bandit activity. From what he told him, the flaming fist had lost several patrols within the Woods of Sharp Teeth, and that when they recovered the bodies they had been stripped of all iron.
In his alcohol infused state, a light went off in Durak's head. Poisoned iron in Nashkel. Bandits attacking and stealing anything with iron. The mage was running messages talking about iron. That was it! There had to be a connection.
As such, when morning came Durak set off alone to the Woods of Sharp Teeth, intent on finding these bandits for himself.
And find them he did! He came across an entire band of them. Or, to put it more accurately, they came upon him. Nearly a dozen men armed with bows, all pointed at him.
"Your armor or your life!"
"Well....how about I jus' join ye wee gang instead?"
"Ha! We've got plenty of mules now! What for we be needin you?"
"I'm glad ye asked! There's only one thing that gets me up in the mornin' and that's leavin' a carpet of broken bodies behind me as I go on me merry way. I've seen what ye've been up tae, an' I want tae join ye in drownin' the sword coast in blood!"
"A berserker eh? Wind you up and point you in the right direction? I suppose we could use more like you. Come, we'll see if the boss says the same. Keep up or we'll shoot you."
----
The bandit camp, such as it was, was more than Durak expected. It was crawling with men and hobgoblins. And they were led by a half-ogre...it was a strange sort of affairs, especially as it was clear that the men and demi-humans were anything but allies. Someone was paying them good coin. From what he gathered from his 'fellow' bandits, it seemed like it was the Zhents. Which confused him, because he thought that he was on the trail of his assassins, and why would the Zhents want him dead?
His 'answer' came that night.
"New guy. You're wanted in the boss' tent."
"Eh? What for?"
"Hell if I know! You want to go there yourself or do I bring your body?"
"I've a question for ye. How're ye gonna report to 'em if I leave ye face a pulpy mash?"
Expecting trouble, Durak reached into his pouch and pulled out a 'wine bottle.' It was a little something he picked up in Beregost before making his trip. The tent itself was a gruesome sight. Flayed bodies were left to rot on its sides. From the look of them, the majority seemed to have once been flaming fist mercenaries. He entered, his shield in one hand and his 'alcohol' in the other.
"Reportin.' What ye be wantin'?"
Facing him was an armored man, a hobgoblin archer and a mage.
"So you are the new hire? Tell me, would you perhaps be Durak? I would advise you not to lie."
Durak looked at the man square in the eyes, pulled the cork out of his wine bottle...and threw it at the mage. It exploded in flames, the mystical liquid turning into a huge ball of fire. The man screamed in pain, even as the entire tent was engulfed in an inferno. The armored man's jaw dropped in surprise. A hammer to the back broke his spine. Crippled, he fell to the floor. The hobgoblin loosed an arrow at Durak. It broke against his armor. A second shattered on his shield. Then the hobgoblin's face shattered on his hammer. He could hear shouting from outside. It wasn't exactly the most subtle of strategies...
Durak saw a bound, bloodied and beaten man tied to a chair in the back of the tent. Without thinking he ran to the man and ripped his bonds off.
"Is it time?" The man was obviously not in the right state of mind.
"Fookin' hell...jus' shut up an' let me do the talkin.'"
He threw the man over his shoulder and charged out of the tent. Bandits were hurrying all over, struggling to bring water to put the fire out. Durak ran to the nearest one and all but shouted "Tazok! Where's Tazok?"
"He...he's on patrol..."
"Bah! Fookin' hell. Ye...and ye! Come with me. We've got tae bring this prisoner tae him, now!"
"B-"
"Shut the fook up ye stammerin' ninny! Or should I be tellin' him that ye be refusin' orders when I find him?"
The three of them hurried off, into the woods, carrying the prisoner with them. Once they were far enough from the camp that Durak felt comfortable, he stopped.
"That's it. Nay further lads."
"But we haven't found-"
----
By the time the sun rose, Durak and Ender Sai were sheltering within the Friendly Arm Inn. Ender, grateful for his rescue, told Durak all that he knew. Apparently Ender was a spy, who was captured. He had been investigating the Iron Throne, a merchant house that he claimed was behind the entire Iron Crisis. When pressed for proof, Ender informed him that there were only three places he knew where it could be found. First, within the flames and ashes of the tent that Durak burned. Second, within the Iron Throne headquarters in Baldur's Gate...and third, a secret mine hidden deep within the Cloakwood Forest.
It wasn't a hard choice. He could get himself killed within a bandit camp...could walk into a city and through the front door of an institution trying to kill him, or he could catch them with their pants down. There was only one real option. He would be going to the Cloakwood.
Durak knew that he didn't have time on his side. It was only a matter of time until someone in the bandit camp put two and two together. When they did, they would realize that their 'new recruit' had come in right before the fire, had run out of the tent, and left soon after with their prisoner. They would have yet another reason to hunt him down. So he had to find this mine in the cloakwood before word could reach them of his coming.
As such, he marched with all speed, stopping only to protect a group of hunters from being slaughtered by druids. When the druids refused to listen to reason (and why was it that so many people had trouble with the concept of not murdering each other? It was baffling at times), they instead listened to his hammer. One of the hunters, a merchant from Baldur's Gate, insisted that Durak take his enchanted blade as a way of thanks, even though Durak would have no use of it. Still, it would at least fetch a decent price.
It was foolishness, he knew, given his time frame to work with, but as usual, Durak couldn't turn down a true call for aid. As such, when a second man approached him, begging for help on a fool's quest, Durak turned him the hell down. The young lad had come to the cloak wood with the idea of being heroes for destroy a spider infestation. When Durak saw the size of the spiders, which ranged from that of a large dog to a small horse, he came to the very reasonable conclusion that if the lad's brother didn't return it was because he was dead. And if he was dead, then the body was likely eaten. Why risk his own life, and risking allowing the Iron Throne to learn of his coming, to find an already eaten body? It made no sense. And as such, he pushed on.
The rest of the cloakwood proved to be easy going, especially when he came across another druid who pointed him in the right direction. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty for killing the other druids. That is, until he reminded himself that anyone who would intentionally live out in the woods like them were by definition insane. He decided to push on with all haste, lest the humans turn on him, as he was sure they inevitably would.
When he reached the mines, he found that the way was barred.
At first, it seemed easy enough. Two barely trained ruffians at the bridge. They fell like the rat-bastards they were. And that was when he walked right into the Iron Throne's trap. A full half-dozen bounty hunters were waiting for him. Worse of all, there were two mages with them! Durak hurriedly gulped down a potion to protect him from their magic, and barely had time to block an axe throne straight at his head. What followed was a quick and bloody battle. Axe against shield, hammer against skull. The air tingled with released magic. His head felt like it would explode from the mystical assault throne at him, while his body was battered by the repeated attacks laid against him.
So he did what any dwarf would do. He dug his feet in, planted himself firmly on the spot, and he killed some "sons o' bastiches!", as he was wont to say. The warriors died first, and then the mages, who mistakenly thought that their barrage of spells could fell him.
Down into the mine he went, slaughtering anyone he came into contact with. Hobgoblins sleeping in their barracks were awakened to the sounds of their fellows dying. Patrolling guards barely had time to scream before they died. As he went, he found more and more signs of slave labor in the mines, pushing him into a cold fury. It bubbled over when he found one of his kinsmen, a dwarf named Yeslick, beaten and bloody in a cell. When the dwarf, a priest of Moradin, told Durak the tale of how the mines were his clan home, robbed and mis-used by the Iron Throne (and most galling, by Yeslick's supposed friend, one of the Iron Throne leaders), Durak's anger turned into rage. Yeslick was soon equipped with the arms of the fallen. Using the priest's knowledge of the mines, the two painted the walls red with blood.
By that time their foes had started to congregate to stop the dwarven assault, but all that did was save the dwarfs time in hunting their foes down. By the time the two of them reached the lair of Daevoron, the mage who ruled the mines, the mines had become a charnel house.
It is said that dwarfs and magic do not mix. And that is true, especially when two angry dwarfs gulp down potions of protection against magic, and then charge headlong into a cornered mage. Even the mage's doomguards failed to slow them, as between Durak's fury and Yeslick's healing prowess, nothing stood a chance.
Yeslick, insistent that his clan home not be used for evil again, took a key from Daevoron's corpse and used it to flood the mines, killing any remaining guards. Unfortunately, even when looting the place, Durak found little in the way of clues or evidence for his quest...
----
"Well, that's a right fine mess that we've done cleared up. So, Yeslick, ye ready to lend ye mace tae the real fight? We've given them a right good bloody'in, an' we know that the Iron Throne be behind this mess. We'll make 'em pay!"
Yeslick looked at Durak and slowly shook his head. "Violence solves only the simplest problems. You must think your way through the tough ones."
Durak looked at the priest with confusion evident on his face.
"What do ye bloody mean? It be simple! Ye've been betrayed. I'm bein' hunted. They've turned...they've turned a DWARVEN mine intae a slave labor camp. By Clanggedin's twin axes! They all deserve tae die!"
"Nay, lad. Nay. I'll be leavin' now, and reportin' this to what's left of me clan. We'll decide what to do, and we'll do it right. Will ye come with me? I've lost too many clan mates already. Must I lose ye as well? We were lucky that they did not know that ye were coming, but now they do..."
"Bah! Bloody fookin' bah! Leave then. Do what ye must. But I've got a score tae settle with them. I'll be goin' tae the Gate, an' I'll batter down the doors tae their hidy-hole meself! They've picked the wrong fookin' dwarf tae cross!"
Yeslick just looked at Durak with a sad look on his face. "As ye must. But be smart about it, laddy. Don't break the law. Work with the Flamin' Fist. If ye jus' barge in, then ye'll die nay matter what. Either on their blades, or from the gallows. Promise me lad, that ye won't do anythin' stupid."
"I...fine. Fine. I'll nay do anythin' stupid."
Yeslick smiled at that.
"Good. May Moradin bless ye."
Durak turned and look back at the mines that they had just cleared, and thought about all of the deaths that they had seen. Of how the mines had claimed not only an entire dwarven clan, but all of the agents of the Iron Throne that his hammer and Yeslick's mace hadn't felled.
That is, until he reminded himself that anyone who would intentionally live out in the woods like them were by definition insane.
Nice!
These are people who squat out in the wilderness, shunning civilization. Also known as real human society. Nutters, all of them!
Well, or hypocrites. Such as the Shadow Druids, who have a tree fort that has all of the comforts of civilization inside of it.
So that means there are two kinds of druids you will run into.
(1) Those who are out of their minds, willing to attack anyone for the flimsiest of reasons.
"We need to murder these paladins! They've killed too many vampires lately. If this goes on, then there will be too much good in this world, and people won't be afraid of the dark any more. For the balance!"
- Said by a person who lives outdoors, doesn't own any clothes, and who talks to animals.
(2) Those who keep with them all of the comforts of civilized life, while yelling at people who don't have mystical powers.
"How dare you walk through these forests? Why, if I did not better, I would say that you are a farmer! For the crime of being alive, moving from place to place, and growing plants to feed yourself and your family, you must die!"
- Said by a person with a tree fort that has a bed, table and dresser inside of it.
Either way, its best just to stay away from all of them.
For someone who had grown up in a library, Baldur's Gate was truly breathtaking. It was larger than anything Durak could have ever imagined, and it smelled worse that anything he had experienced before. The press of unwashed bodies was truly something else.
"Bloody blasted humans! And they call this civilization?!"
Durak's adventures within the city would be chronicled later. While the book 'By Blood and Beard' was incorrect that he cleared a den of Cambions beneath the city, and 'A Godling's Tale' was so full of falsehoods that it claimed that Durak uncovered a cult of Lloth, he did infact have something of a rough time in his first foray. Almost immediately he managed to get lost. So lost, in fact, that he ended up within the city's thief's guild, where he was talked into buying a book that would 'increase his dexterity to indwarvenly levels!' He also, perhaps unsurprisingly, managed to get himself poisoned. Were it not for the fact that forcing assassins to work for you makes for less than loyal subordinates, his quest would have ended right there. As it was, he left a trail of bodies behind him as he sought the cure. More specifically, the anonymous historians (done for their own safety, for some of those they included were still alive and quite touchy) who penned 'The Greatest Murders Of The Age' was correct when he said that Durak brutally killed high priestess Mistmyr and the entire clergy of Umberlee.
While in reality, it happened because he expressed shock that the priestess were willing to murder a child and then charge 2,000 gold crowns for the return of the corpse, something which offended the high priestess in the extreme.
Moreso, in a move that would later earn him quite a deal of fame, he failed in a contract to procure the fabled helm of Balduran, but instead found Balduran's Cloak. It would be the only artifact of Balduran that would survive the burglary which later robbed the city of its most famed artifacts, with the rest of Balduran's equipment ending up in Amn.
He also hired himself out as a mercenary for the flaming fist, his burgeoning reputation after saving Nashkel meaning that the organization was willing to open their coffers to him. In this, he assisted them in hunting down a murderous ogre mage and saving the trading cartels of Baldur's Gate from a doppleganger infestation.
It was thus with great excitement that he eventually earned the right to do what he had been itching to accomplish: to drown the Iron Throne's headquarters in blood! Given a contract by no less than one of the Grand Dukes, he marched into the building with his head held up high and his shield firmly held in front of him.
It...did not go quite as expected.
To his surprise, he was allowed to walk in unmolested. The guards, such as they were, were incompetent in the extreme, allowing him to search through the compound with only the most basic of inquiries. It wasn't until he reached the top level that the ambush was sprung.
No less than seven assassins surrounded him. With steel and spells they assaulted him, cutting off any avenue of retreat. In an attempt to find a defensible position, he allowed them to flee up a narrow flight of stairs...and onto the roof.
With his back to the railing, and over a half dozen enemies before him, Durak realized that there was nowhere left to retreat. He firmly planted his feet and raised his shield. Three warriors in front of him, including a hideous doppleganger. Wizards and clerics behind them. He was outnumbered and outgunned..
....
Many a concerned commoner ran to the Flaming Fists that day. A bard later penned a song about what happened, entitled "It's Raining Men." For it is rarely a good idea to corner a dwarf, for it makes them fight all the harder. That, and if you can't surround them, then all you can do is fight them face to face, a losing proposition be you man, orc, or even a giant. Sadly for the Iron Throne, there were no giants there that day.
A battered and bloody Durak later returned to the Flaming Fist compound, along with a paper trail of inconclusive evidence. It was enough to convince his patrons that the Iron Throne was likely the culprits of the entire mess...and that it would also be a good idea to get the dwarf as far away from the city as possible lest their involvement in the storming of the Iron Throne compound become known.
As such, they offered him another lucrative contract, one that he did not have the choice of refusing. They were to send him back to Candlekeep, where the leaders of the Iron Throne were meeting. Durak eagerly accepted, though he never did quite learn their reasoning behind it.
By sending him there, as secretly as they did, they had everything to gain. In the best case scenario, he would uncover enough evidence for them to legally act on. In the worst case scenario, there would be another slaughter. Then they could deny all involvement, arrest and execute him to prove that they had no part in it, and then go on with their lives with the problem solved. Either way, the government of Baldur's Gate had everything to gain.
Or as Durak though, the Iron Throne had everything to lose. For a grudge had been made, and it would be avenged!
Wow! A slight, interesting change of perspective there. And what a battle that must have been on the roof of the Iron Throne building... The shield icon in Durak's portrait, was that from a potion or is that Dwarven Defender stance? Do you have the Claw of Kazgaroth? I'm amazed Durak survived that. What a badass!
It surprised me too! I really thought he was done for. The one with the halberd is the most dangerous. Durak critted him hard and took him down. From there t was shield amulet, defensive stance and a potion of swiftness...something else which I can't recall...but yeah. I was lucky as he'll to not end there. Even with the best equipment in the game.
How much HP does he have now, what level is he and how close to actually dying was he?
As always, I thouroughly enjoy to read your stories. Sitting at work, gonna spend another long, boring day with excel, wishing instead I had the possibility to just rush home and play some BG. Your story-telling spurs my imagination and make me want to play the game.
How much HP does he have now, what level is he and how close to actually dying was he?
As always, I thouroughly enjoy to read your stories. Sitting at work, gonna spend another long, boring day with excel, wishing instead I had the possibility to just rush home and play some BG. Your story-telling spurs my imagination and make me want to play the game.
To answer your questions: HP=a lot. I'll see if I can find a better answer... Level=8 Closeness to death=Too damn close. As in I was sweating bullets. I was certainly glad that I took the time to get him his plate from Durlag's tower and the cloak of Balduran. Otherwise he certainly would have died.
You know a fight is close when you watch the swings with anticipation.
And thank you for reading. I'm glad you are enjoying it.
And with that, Durak found himself back in Candlekeep. Standing within the fortress-monastery once more, he was struck by how small it felt. After walking through the trap-ladden tower of Durlag, and rubbing shoulders with the masses of Baldur's Gate, the dusty halls of Candlekeep felt diminished.
He wandered the courtyard and the streets aimlessly at first, taking in the familiar sites and sounds. He knew that he had a job to do, but he couldn't help himself from tracking down his childhood companions and tutors. Phylidia was her usual self, a brilliant scholar whose mind was slowly slipping. Dreppin was as he always was, and Durak greatly enjoyed sitting for awhile next to the cows, reminiscing on old times. And Hull and Fuller, both on duty, agreed that when their shift was over many a drink would be had. As such, Durak went straight to Winthrop's Inn. It would be a few hours yet until they could arrive, and he planned to see if the ale still tasted as he remembered it.
Sitting at a table, nursing his stein, Durak heard a familiar voice. Reevor. He turned, a smile on his face at the thought of seeing his old mentor.
"Rat bastard." Reevor's voice was dripping with scorn. "You've been away without leave, soldier. Were you expecting forgiveness?!"
"Reevor, Gorion-"
"Are you expecting redemption?"
"Blast it, I-"
"Well spare me!"
Durak fell silent, his smile having turned into a scowl. "I want five hundred push-ups, and I want them NOW!"
"Reevor. I *followed* me orders. Ye know that."
"Did ye now? Then why was it that Gorion's body was found and nay yours?"
"He...he told me to run."
"Oh, so you're a coward then? Left ye own father to die!"
"Shut...your...mouth." Durak's teeth ground and his fists clenched. Withnrop was saying something, but neither dwarf was paying attention.
"Or what? Ye'll run away again? And to think, all the time I wasted on ye! A coward!"
"SHUT UP!" Durak surged to his feet and shoved the older dwarf. Reevor took several steps backwards.
"Is that how it is? Well come on then! I'll fix this mistake, right 'nuff."
Durak stood over the unconscious dwarf. He was breathing hard, though not from exertion. He was angry, because he knew in his heart that it was easier to be angry than guilty. At that moment he was painfully aware that the entire tavern was staring at him.
"The next one tae call me a coward ends up like him! Ye hear me?!"
Nobody said anything. Though Winthrop looked...hurt. Dissapointed. Durak realized that there was a lump in his throat that he didn't realize was there before. Without saying another word he surged out of the inn, his meeting with Hull and Fuller totally forgotten.
He went straight to the priest's quarters. Parda would be there. Good old Parda. He always knew what to do, how to make things right. He threw the door open, only to find a priest squatting on the floor, a scalpel in his hands, dissecting a cat.
"What...what the bloody fook are ye doin'?"
The priest looked up at him and waved him away dismissively.
"Studying."
"A dead cat? The blood...it's all o'er the fookin' place! What the fook are ye up tae?!"
The priest hissed at him. "Hsss! Leave me be, monkey. I've no time for the likes of you."
Durak was angry, and he wasn't thinking straight. He walked up and smacked the scalpel out of the priest's hands. "What'd ye say? Huh?! This is where ye priests sleep an' ye've got blood all o'er the place! Why-"
"Hsss! I'll taste you now! I'll study your dead flesh as I do the cat!"
Before Durak's eyes the priest started to change. His flesh grayed, his arms grew longer. Incomprehension was written clearly on the dwarf's face as the doppleganger hit him across the face. Durak fell to the ground. Immediately he thought of Durlag. Of how the great hero had been forced to kill his own clan. As the doppleganger approached, he thought of Phylidia. Fuller, Hull...Reevor. Winthrop? Who had been replaced? Who was already dead?! The doppleganger reached down for him, and he grabbed it by its wrist. It tried to pull back, surprised at the dwarf's strength. Instead, Durak pulled the doppleganger to the floor.
"Bastard! Ye bastard! Who else? WHO ELSE?!" The doppleganger pawed ineffectually at Durak's hands, which were around its neck. "TELL ME! TELL ME WHO ELSE YE BASTARD!" He shook the dopplegange with all of his strength, slamming it again and again into the ground. He continued this long after the creature stopped moving. Finally, with tears rolling down his face, only to be lost in his beard, a single croaking sob came around. He buried his face into the creature's chest.
It had hurt enough to lose Gorion. But now it dawned on him that everyone that he knew and cared about could well be dead. Or they could be alive, and unaware that these monsters would soon be coming for them. And the worst part of it was, he felt completely powerless to help...
Thank you, both of you! This is the part of the saga that always hit me the most. The tragedy is unlaralleled. To think that everyone who ever meant anything to you is either dead, or soon to be dead, and you can't tell if the figure before you is to be saved or killed...
It is horrifying, no matter who Charname is.
As for Reevor, what happened there was the spur of the moment. When he insulted Durak, that dialogue played out in my mind. I was kind of afraid that I'd end my run by attacking him, but fortunately non lethal damage didn't cause a rep loss and the watchers didn't go hostile. So that worked out well.
Shistal. He would know what to do. Durak ran through the keep, past faces he could not trust. Shistal was one of the wisest, most learned men that he had ever known. Shistal knew every monk, every scholar, even most visitors. If anyone would be able to help with the doppleganger infestation, it would be he.
"Shistal! Shistal! Claggedin's twin mugs, I be glad to see ye!"
The monk turned around. There was no spark of recognition in his eyes. Rather, he merely mumbled something about needing to return to his work.
"Shital? It be me...Durak. Ye remember me, aye?"
Shistal started talking about how he didn't recognize Durak, and tried to change the topic by asking about his trip to the cloakwood. The problem was, Durak hadn't told anyone here that he had been to the cloakwood.
"Ah...nay...nay ye too."
"...not me...what?" Shistal was starting to fluster, and his tone was changing to one far more harsher than the monk had ever spoken with.
Durak reached down and pulled out his hammer. There was no more hope in his eyes, just sadness.
"I didnae ever want to do this."
"Hsss! Strike me then, fool. Strike me and they shall blame you for his murder."
"At least ye'll be dead, nay?"
Durak swung. He missed, as Shistal leapt back at a speed far too fast for a man of his age.
"Fool! I'll feast on your-"
The doppleganger was in the midst of changing when the next blow landed. Shistal's head, now half that of a doppleganger, was at a very unnatural angle when the body his the ground. Durak stood over it for a moment. The other monks in the library were starting to run from the scene.
If they had already gotten Shistal, when who else was turned? Who could he go to? Tethtoril? Ulraunt? They were too powerful to be easily killed, weren't they? With resignation in every step, he turned and continued up the stairs. How could he even know?
---
The after effects of the spell left a strange taste in his mouth. It was like he had taken a bite out of a bolt of lightning. At the very least he knew that Tethtoril could still be trusted. He hadn't even made it up to the mage's quarters when he was arrested. Apparently the Iron Throne leadership had been found dead, and a 'witness' had implicated him in the matter. Ulraunt had declared Durak to be guilty within the hour and he was scheduled for execution when Tethtoril had him teleported deep beneath the keep. Down into the catacombs.
What followed was a nightmare from which Durak feared he would never wake. Down there, in the dark, he wandered old corridors where dozens of bodies were haphazardly piled up, and within which ghouls feasted. Around ever corner he saw the smiling faces of friends and companions who turned on him with private words full of spite and pain. Everyone he knew and cared about was down there, and with a bloody hammer he broke them all.
All except for Deder and Arkanis. His two tutors, trainers, and friends. When he saw them, his hand wavered. With tear choked voice, he bade them to flee when they came, offering their aid. Even with the thought of Durlag firmly in his mind, he just couldn't bring himself to strike down their forms.
The two left, watching him warily. Were they as they said they were? Were they indeed allies who had come to investigate? Were they shapechangers, come to kill him when his back was turned? Who could he trust? Who could he trust?!
Through the catacombs he went, lost in a daze of madness and violence. Ancient tombs were shattered by his hammer, for in his madness and grief everything that could be broken was. Corpses by the handful littered the halls, all bearing the faces of those whom he loved.
When he finally stumbled into the light of day, Durak came out a changed dwarf. Gone were his tears. Now all that filled him was an anger. A burning rage that threatened to tear him apart from the inside, to engulf him in flames. To burn until there was nothing left inside of him.
Sarevok! It was he who had done this to him. Durak knew, for his men had stayed behind to meet with the murderer. They had found Durak instead, and they did not live long enough to regret their mistake. Sarevok...Durak would find him. He would find the murderer, and he would mete out vengeance for the fallen. Covered in blood as he was, Durak left his former home behind, never to return.
Durak returned to Baldur's Gate with bloody vengeance on his mind. Once again he stormed the Iron Throne's building, only to learn that it was toppling without him even needing to be there! Apparently, in his absence Sarevok had made a play to become a Grand Duke, and had cannibalized the trading cartel to do so. Gone were the guards, gone were the acolytes. All that was left was Sarevok's lover, Cythandria, who had stayed behind to make a present out of Durak's head.
She was a conjurer of some repute. But when her summoned ogres had been banished and both her legs broken, all she could do was plead for mercy. But mercy was not for Durak to give, for one cannot give what does not belong to you. Mercy could only be given by the dead. He swiftly ended her life, and then took from her corpse Sarevok's diary. Reading it, a lesser man might have been moved by the tragedies that it contained. To Durak, any man who saw the murder of his mother should know not to kill the parents of others! Of more interest though was talk of assassins in the undercellar, who would murder the remaining grand dukes at Sarevok's inauguration.
With such thoughts on his mind, he was then approached by Sarevok's other lover, Tamoko. She asked to meet Durak, promising information. But when she demanded that Durak make an oath to her, without telling him what it was, he refused out of hand. More fool humans, who took their words so loosely that they would give it without knowing what they pledged it to!
He let her live, for the mere fact that she was but a wee naive girl who was trying to avoid violence. Let her live and grow up. And mayhaps she would learn the value of your word and what it meant to keep good company.
From there, life was a simple enough matter. Sarevok's assassins were waiting for him in the undercellar, with blade and spell. Neither amounted to much besides leaving the two of them as a bloody mess, and with their invitations firmly in his gauntled hand.
The inauguration itself did not go as anyone expected it. The guards at the gate proved to be incompetent beyond excuse, allowing a fully armed and armored dwarf to stomp into such a formal event. This had a two part effect. First, it caused many flaming fist mercenaries to converge upon him, as a precaution upon seeing him while his credentials were investigated. And secondly, when Sarevok saw him, he reacted in as poor a fashion as possible. He immediately sprang his attack upon his fellow grand dukes, looking to kill them before any possible interruption could take place.
At his command, a good portion of Baldur's Gate nobility shifted and turned, shedding their fleshly disguises and becoming gray skinned dopplegangers. The flaming fist mercenaries, upon seeing this, charged to protect the grand dukes. Nobody stopped Durak from joining into the melee.
When it became clear that not only would the grand dukes survive, but Sarevok's role would be ousted, the man joined the conflict as well. There was little he could do though, against Durak, two grand dukes and over a half dozen flaming fist mercenaries. The tale itself would have ended then and there if it were not for the timely intervention of Winski Perorate, Sarevok's mentor.
Fortune was not with the murderer though. While he did indeed escape, he did not do so fast enough. Without a thought for his own safety, Durak charged after his half-brother through the sorcerous portal. Away from the Ducal palace they went, and away from the secular justice of Baldur's Gate.
When Durak's eyes adjusted, he found Winski Perorate bleeding on the ground before him.
"Ye! Tell me now man, who ye be and why ye be helpin' that bastich!"
The man coughed up bloody froth, before gleefully telling of his role in training and shaping Sarevok into becoming the man that he had become. Sarevok apparently wanted godhood, but all that Perorate wanted was to be remembered, even if it was as a villain.
Historians would debate about the morality of Durak's killing of Perorate. Many, including the populace at large, thought that the man should have been taken alive for trial, rather than murdered in cold blood. Durak only commented, officially that is, on the matter once. And truly, it was a quote for the ages.
"Were ye there? Then take ye quill and shove it up ye fookin' arse, ye yellow livered nancy boy!"
It did very little to help his reputation.
At the moment though, he found himself in the undercity, an ancient settlement that Baldur's Gate had been built over.
His relentless march did not slow. It did not slow when the undead natives of the city rose up against him. It did not stop when an iron throne task force tried to stand between him and Sarevok.
It did not stop when Tamoko stood before a temple of dead Bhaal, where she made her last and final mistake.
She had mistaken his earlier decision to allow her to live as precedent. She was now in the way of his vengeance, and she was no match for the dwarf.
At the temple itself Durak took a moment to open his pack. Every potion he had, ever scroll he collected, all were used. His already divinely enhanced physique swelled to such heights that he would only feel once again in his life. Never before had he been so angered, never again would he be so focused. He swore, at that moment, that Sarevok and all who stood with him would die.
Durak never spoke to any living soul about what happened inside that temple...
...except for that he had walked out, nobody else did, and there was naught else to say. In truth, he was greatly outnumbered by powerful opponents. Using potions of invisibility and his sandstone ring, he separated and killed all within one by one. It was not an easy fight, and many a potion of healing was drunk. He even had to take the time to use an enchanted arrow to strip Sarevok of his many mysitcal protections. But in the end, his oath was fulfilled. The many dead of Candlekeep had been avenged, including his own foster-father Gorion.
But as he stood there, bruised, bloody, and victorious, he could not help but wonder, what next? For so long his actions had been dictated by others. And now, finally free of his half-brother's machinations, he was without a home, without any comrades, and without a clear goal for the future. It was but his hope that he would now know the peace needed to decide, for himself, what to do with his life.
---
END.
As an extra, I took the last save before this and had Durak fight Drizzt, to see what would happen. I didn't have all of the right potions, but I got most of the buffs up.
Open the spoiler to see what happens when elven speed meets dwarven might.
---
I'm tempted to do a no-reload BG2 run now, but I'm very hesitant. I've never managed to do it before. I don't think it is even possible to do it solo with a pure melee class. And I don't want to end his saga ignominously by doing something stupid like walking into a trap, or getting mazed...
Indeed I meleed Sarevok. Drizzt too. Dwarven Defenders are absolute beasts in CC. Take a look at his equipment loadout and stats at the end. He was hitting like a truck and soaking up damage like he was in SoA already.
So, Semicicgod and Blackraven, what party should I use in BG2? I'm not nearly confident enough to do a no-reload solo run with a melee class. I mean...a fighter/thief can get UAI, to get around most of the game's problems. But a pure fighter can't. Many fights you can't melee unless you at least have 'breach.'
What I'm thinking...
(1) Durak (2-3) Minsc and Jaheira. Meet them in the dungeons, and each have a need for vengeance. 'fair nuff....kind of hard to kick someone out when they have a burning desire to kill the same person as you. (4) Korgan. Because it'd be a dwarven defender and a dwarven battlerager in the same party. That's 2x the amount of dwarven buttkicking! (5) Imoen. Because obviously leaving her with Jaheira and Khalid didn't work out so well last time. (6) Everyone else!
That is, everyone else gets to stay in only so long as they are needed.
Ex: Do the trademeet quests, and keep Cernd until his personal quest is done.
----
Then again...I'm also itching to try another run which I have planned. Which is what I call the 'shorty run.'
Dwarven Fighter/Cleric Jan (thief/mage) Korgan battle rager) Mazzy (paladin-lite)
2 dwarfs, a gnome and a halfling. Comes with enough thief/mage/cleric power to keep the party going, and enough front liners to not crumble like wet tissue paper.
I did check your stats, and found -8 AC not that promising for a meeting with Sarevok (also taking into account the Dex boost, which suggests your natural AC would be a few points lower), but I guess DD stance and healing potions helped mitigate some damage. Would Full Plate + Ring of Protection +2 not have given you a better AC (at the cost of lower Fire resistance)?
As to BG2. I think it's an excellent idea to play with a party. It will certainly improve Durak's odds of survival. I love themed parties, so the shorty party sounds great to me. Four NPC is a bit suboptimal if you take into account XP and level progression. You could import your save into an MP game and roll two more custom NPCs. The party you propose is very strong in the warrior department, but would benefit from more arcane and divine magic even if the arcane magic comes in the form of a second Illusionist. A Cleric/Illusionist comes to mind. Or if you're into mods you could install Quayle ReDone: http://forum.baldursgate.com/discussion/39137/skie-and-quayle-mods-available-for-bg2ee. It allows you to pick up Quayle (if you play the Circus Quest right). A Fighter/Thief (or Swashbuckler) that ends up swinging the Carsomyr at 10 APR with (G)WW would be pretty devastating as well.
Should you decide to go for the most effective party, I'd recommend: - Keldorn with his dispels and true sight, - Jaheira with her druidic magic (Insect Plagues, Ironskins, lots of summons) to complement your clerical spells, - Korgan with all his rage immunities, - Jan Jansen as a competent Thief and a fine secondary arcane caster, - and Edwin as your main arcane caster.* * I understand that Edwin and Keldorn can come to blows, though I know that various people have completed at least SoA with both in one party. You'd probably need to have a high CHA party leader, and try to keep the two apart from each other. Or you could just go with Nalia/Imoen of course.
Aye, -8 AC wasn't the best when fighting Sarevok. As I hinted in the write up, I had to use invisibility to get away, heal up, and go again. Without defensive stance Durak would have been paste. A berserker solo might well have ended there!
As for the fire resistance, I had memories of Angelo burning parties to a crisp with his arrows. The two rings and helm were insurance against that. Though in hindsight, I indeed could have switched things around after killing him.
---
I'll give it some thought before I start anything. Really plan it out before I start, lest it ends prematurely.
A party of gnomes, dwarves, and halflings should be quite resistant to magic on its own, particularly if you have Korgan with his excellent immunities. Otherwise I strongly recommend including a couple of clerics (Jaheira and Aerie are quite versatile) for access to Remove Fear, Death Ward, and Chaotic Commands, which I would consider a requirement for a no-reload run without subzero saves across the board.
If you have no such cleric, though, then you might consider allowing one tall person to join your group: Keldorn, since his Dispel Magic will be safer and more flexible if your party isn't using many buffs, and since his MR with Carsomyr will make him almost as hard to disable as your other party members.
Either way, it's a good idea to plan things out first.
Comments
@hispls: I've actually already finished the run, and am going back to my screenshots to write this up. So no, he won't be returning. Now, if the game have him a dwarven thief NPC to join with? Then the tower would have happened, no doubt about it!
But I'd have driven you crazy with how slowly I type on my iphone and my inability to play for more than 30 min at a time...
Early congrats btw for having completed the game
Looking forward to reading the details, and I hope we'll see more of Durak in Amn.
Thanks for taking the time to post this though. A fine read.
"Ye found what?!"
"Would you quiet down? Or would you like for all of Nashkel to hear us?"
Durak and Xan were in the Nashkel tavern. Several empty pints were strewn about the table, evidence of Durak's impatience to receive his information. Xan had finally broken the code on the letters, and had found what Durak wanted to know. Apparently Mulhay had a contact, a wizard by the name of Tranzig. The wizard would come once a month to Felderpost's Inn to receive the half-orc's status reports.
"Before you get so excited that you run off and get yourself killed, remember that it has been several days since you cleared the Nashkel minds. Your foes likely know of Mulhay's death. Tranzig may not even be there."
"All the more reason for us to get off our arses and tae go now!" Durak surged to his feet, but stopped when he saw that the elf wasn't moving.
"We delude ourselves to think that our pitiable band will stand up to our enemies. I will be returning to Everska with this information so a proper response can be made."
"But...they'll get away. We've got tae kill 'em, now!"
"Oh really? Well then, let us save our effort and just lie down and die! Do you think that there will only be kolbolds to come? Whomever is behind this is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. I will not throw my life away like...like Everain!"
"Who?"
"Oh what's the point? Life...is so hollow."
Durak gave the elf one last bemused look before walking out of the tavern. Rangers who talked to hamsters. Kolbolds poisoning iron. Babbling elves. He came to the conclusion that the world had gone insane and he was the last sane person left. So with that, he walked off, alone, to hunt down the mage...
When in Beregost, Durak marched straight to Felderpost's Inn. Pushing his way through the crowded common hall, he went straight for the apartments. A mage...he was looking for a mage. That meant an impractical robe to trip on, poor hygiene (from his experience, the ingredients needed to cast spells often didn't smell all that great after a few weeks) and most likely some sort of facial hair to look more mysterious. He was almost disappointed when he came into a room and found a young, beardless man wearing a simple robe.
"Ye be Tranzig?"
"And who wants to know?"
"Interesting letters ye got on that desk. Mind if I take a look?"
Before the mage could reply, his steel clad fist hit Tranzig square in the stomach. The man doubled over in surprise and pain. Now at eye level, Durak's second blow hit the mage on the side of the head. Given his prodigious strength and metal gauntlet, he felt Tranzig's skull break beneath the impact. For good measure he stomped on the prone man's neck. You could never tell with wizards.
Almost immediately Durak regretted his hasty actions. What if these letters were coded too? With trepidation he reached for them. They were. He cursed, loudly, and turned around to kick the mage's body. Once he had tired himself out, he turned his attention to the letters and decided to try and read them.
Now, Durak was no fool. He had grown up in Candlekeep. He had been educated. But they were far, far beyond him. All that he could make out was that the letters contained the word 'iron' several times, which was really no surprise...
---
That night Durak lost himself in his cups at the Jovial Juggler. It was there that he met a flaming fist mercenary. Her men were stranded in the south due to the heavy bandit activity. From what he told him, the flaming fist had lost several patrols within the Woods of Sharp Teeth, and that when they recovered the bodies they had been stripped of all iron.
In his alcohol infused state, a light went off in Durak's head. Poisoned iron in Nashkel. Bandits attacking and stealing anything with iron. The mage was running messages talking about iron. That was it! There had to be a connection.
As such, when morning came Durak set off alone to the Woods of Sharp Teeth, intent on finding these bandits for himself.
And find them he did! He came across an entire band of them. Or, to put it more accurately, they came upon him. Nearly a dozen men armed with bows, all pointed at him.
"Your armor or your life!"
"Well....how about I jus' join ye wee gang instead?"
"Ha! We've got plenty of mules now! What for we be needin you?"
"I'm glad ye asked! There's only one thing that gets me up in the mornin' and that's leavin' a carpet of broken bodies behind me as I go on me merry way. I've seen what ye've been up tae, an' I want tae join ye in drownin' the sword coast in blood!"
"A berserker eh? Wind you up and point you in the right direction? I suppose we could use more like you. Come, we'll see if the boss says the same. Keep up or we'll shoot you."
----
The bandit camp, such as it was, was more than Durak expected. It was crawling with men and hobgoblins. And they were led by a half-ogre...it was a strange sort of affairs, especially as it was clear that the men and demi-humans were anything but allies. Someone was paying them good coin. From what he gathered from his 'fellow' bandits, it seemed like it was the Zhents. Which confused him, because he thought that he was on the trail of his assassins, and why would the Zhents want him dead?
His 'answer' came that night.
"New guy. You're wanted in the boss' tent."
"Eh? What for?"
"Hell if I know! You want to go there yourself or do I bring your body?"
"I've a question for ye. How're ye gonna report to 'em if I leave ye face a pulpy mash?"
Expecting trouble, Durak reached into his pouch and pulled out a 'wine bottle.' It was a little something he picked up in Beregost before making his trip. The tent itself was a gruesome sight. Flayed bodies were left to rot on its sides. From the look of them, the majority seemed to have once been flaming fist mercenaries. He entered, his shield in one hand and his 'alcohol' in the other.
"Reportin.' What ye be wantin'?"
Facing him was an armored man, a hobgoblin archer and a mage.
"So you are the new hire? Tell me, would you perhaps be Durak? I would advise you not to lie."
Durak looked at the man square in the eyes, pulled the cork out of his wine bottle...and threw it at the mage. It exploded in flames, the mystical liquid turning into a huge ball of fire. The man screamed in pain, even as the entire tent was engulfed in an inferno. The armored man's jaw dropped in surprise. A hammer to the back broke his spine. Crippled, he fell to the floor. The hobgoblin loosed an arrow at Durak. It broke against his armor. A second shattered on his shield. Then the hobgoblin's face shattered on his hammer. He could hear shouting from outside. It wasn't exactly the most subtle of strategies...
Durak saw a bound, bloodied and beaten man tied to a chair in the back of the tent. Without thinking he ran to the man and ripped his bonds off.
"Is it time?" The man was obviously not in the right state of mind.
"Fookin' hell...jus' shut up an' let me do the talkin.'"
He threw the man over his shoulder and charged out of the tent. Bandits were hurrying all over, struggling to bring water to put the fire out. Durak ran to the nearest one and all but shouted "Tazok! Where's Tazok?"
"He...he's on patrol..."
"Bah! Fookin' hell. Ye...and ye! Come with me. We've got tae bring this prisoner tae him, now!"
"B-"
"Shut the fook up ye stammerin' ninny! Or should I be tellin' him that ye be refusin' orders when I find him?"
The three of them hurried off, into the woods, carrying the prisoner with them. Once they were far enough from the camp that Durak felt comfortable, he stopped.
"That's it. Nay further lads."
"But we haven't found-"
----
By the time the sun rose, Durak and Ender Sai were sheltering within the Friendly Arm Inn. Ender, grateful for his rescue, told Durak all that he knew. Apparently Ender was a spy, who was captured. He had been investigating the Iron Throne, a merchant house that he claimed was behind the entire Iron Crisis. When pressed for proof, Ender informed him that there were only three places he knew where it could be found. First, within the flames and ashes of the tent that Durak burned. Second, within the Iron Throne headquarters in Baldur's Gate...and third, a secret mine hidden deep within the Cloakwood Forest.
It wasn't a hard choice. He could get himself killed within a bandit camp...could walk into a city and through the front door of an institution trying to kill him, or he could catch them with their pants down. There was only one real option. He would be going to the Cloakwood.
Durak knew that he didn't have time on his side. It was only a matter of time until someone in the bandit camp put two and two together. When they did, they would realize that their 'new recruit' had come in right before the fire, had run out of the tent, and left soon after with their prisoner. They would have yet another reason to hunt him down. So he had to find this mine in the cloakwood before word could reach them of his coming.
As such, he marched with all speed, stopping only to protect a group of hunters from being slaughtered by druids. When the druids refused to listen to reason (and why was it that so many people had trouble with the concept of not murdering each other? It was baffling at times), they instead listened to his hammer. One of the hunters, a merchant from Baldur's Gate, insisted that Durak take his enchanted blade as a way of thanks, even though Durak would have no use of it. Still, it would at least fetch a decent price.
It was foolishness, he knew, given his time frame to work with, but as usual, Durak couldn't turn down a true call for aid. As such, when a second man approached him, begging for help on a fool's quest, Durak turned him the hell down. The young lad had come to the cloak wood with the idea of being heroes for destroy a spider infestation. When Durak saw the size of the spiders, which ranged from that of a large dog to a small horse, he came to the very reasonable conclusion that if the lad's brother didn't return it was because he was dead. And if he was dead, then the body was likely eaten. Why risk his own life, and risking allowing the Iron Throne to learn of his coming, to find an already eaten body? It made no sense. And as such, he pushed on.
The rest of the cloakwood proved to be easy going, especially when he came across another druid who pointed him in the right direction. It was almost enough to make him feel guilty for killing the other druids. That is, until he reminded himself that anyone who would intentionally live out in the woods like them were by definition insane. He decided to push on with all haste, lest the humans turn on him, as he was sure they inevitably would.
When he reached the mines, he found that the way was barred.
At first, it seemed easy enough. Two barely trained ruffians at the bridge. They fell like the rat-bastards they were. And that was when he walked right into the Iron Throne's trap. A full half-dozen bounty hunters were waiting for him. Worse of all, there were two mages with them! Durak hurriedly gulped down a potion to protect him from their magic, and barely had time to block an axe throne straight at his head. What followed was a quick and bloody battle. Axe against shield, hammer against skull. The air tingled with released magic. His head felt like it would explode from the mystical assault throne at him, while his body was battered by the repeated attacks laid against him.
So he did what any dwarf would do. He dug his feet in, planted himself firmly on the spot, and he killed some "sons o' bastiches!", as he was wont to say. The warriors died first, and then the mages, who mistakenly thought that their barrage of spells could fell him.
Down into the mine he went, slaughtering anyone he came into contact with. Hobgoblins sleeping in their barracks were awakened to the sounds of their fellows dying. Patrolling guards barely had time to scream before they died. As he went, he found more and more signs of slave labor in the mines, pushing him into a cold fury. It bubbled over when he found one of his kinsmen, a dwarf named Yeslick, beaten and bloody in a cell. When the dwarf, a priest of Moradin, told Durak the tale of how the mines were his clan home, robbed and mis-used by the Iron Throne (and most galling, by Yeslick's supposed friend, one of the Iron Throne leaders), Durak's anger turned into rage. Yeslick was soon equipped with the arms of the fallen. Using the priest's knowledge of the mines, the two painted the walls red with blood.
By that time their foes had started to congregate to stop the dwarven assault, but all that did was save the dwarfs time in hunting their foes down. By the time the two of them reached the lair of Daevoron, the mage who ruled the mines, the mines had become a charnel house.
It is said that dwarfs and magic do not mix. And that is true, especially when two angry dwarfs gulp down potions of protection against magic, and then charge headlong into a cornered mage. Even the mage's doomguards failed to slow them, as between Durak's fury and Yeslick's healing prowess, nothing stood a chance.
Yeslick, insistent that his clan home not be used for evil again, took a key from Daevoron's corpse and used it to flood the mines, killing any remaining guards. Unfortunately, even when looting the place, Durak found little in the way of clues or evidence for his quest...
----
"Well, that's a right fine mess that we've done cleared up. So, Yeslick, ye ready to lend ye mace tae the real fight? We've given them a right good bloody'in, an' we know that the Iron Throne be behind this mess. We'll make 'em pay!"
Yeslick looked at Durak and slowly shook his head. "Violence solves only the simplest problems. You must think your way through the tough ones."
Durak looked at the priest with confusion evident on his face.
"What do ye bloody mean? It be simple! Ye've been betrayed. I'm bein' hunted. They've turned...they've turned a DWARVEN mine intae a slave labor camp. By Clanggedin's twin axes! They all deserve tae die!"
"Nay, lad. Nay. I'll be leavin' now, and reportin' this to what's left of me clan. We'll decide what to do, and we'll do it right. Will ye come with me? I've lost too many clan mates already. Must I lose ye as well? We were lucky that they did not know that ye were coming, but now they do..."
"Bah! Bloody fookin' bah! Leave then. Do what ye must. But I've got a score tae settle with them. I'll be goin' tae the Gate, an' I'll batter down the doors tae their hidy-hole meself! They've picked the wrong fookin' dwarf tae cross!"
Yeslick just looked at Durak with a sad look on his face. "As ye must. But be smart about it, laddy. Don't break the law. Work with the Flamin' Fist. If ye jus' barge in, then ye'll die nay matter what. Either on their blades, or from the gallows. Promise me lad, that ye won't do anythin' stupid."
"I...fine. Fine. I'll nay do anythin' stupid."
Yeslick smiled at that.
"Good. May Moradin bless ye."
Durak turned and look back at the mines that they had just cleared, and thought about all of the deaths that they had seen. Of how the mines had claimed not only an entire dwarven clan, but all of the agents of the Iron Throne that his hammer and Yeslick's mace hadn't felled.
"...aye. As ye say."
Well, or hypocrites. Such as the Shadow Druids, who have a tree fort that has all of the comforts of civilization inside of it.
So that means there are two kinds of druids you will run into.
(1) Those who are out of their minds, willing to attack anyone for the flimsiest of reasons.
"We need to murder these paladins! They've killed too many vampires lately. If this goes on, then there will be too much good in this world, and people won't be afraid of the dark any more. For the balance!"
- Said by a person who lives outdoors, doesn't own any clothes, and who talks to animals.
(2) Those who keep with them all of the comforts of civilized life, while yelling at people who don't have mystical powers.
"How dare you walk through these forests? Why, if I did not better, I would say that you are a farmer! For the crime of being alive, moving from place to place, and growing plants to feed yourself and your family, you must die!"
- Said by a person with a tree fort that has a bed, table and dresser inside of it.
Either way, its best just to stay away from all of them.
Thank you. I figure that the story always revolves around Charname. Sometimes NPCs should have a life of their own, and their own ideas as well.
Say what you like but I'll wager you haven't tried their aloe vera balm.
For someone who had grown up in a library, Baldur's Gate was truly breathtaking. It was larger than anything Durak could have ever imagined, and it smelled worse that anything he had experienced before. The press of unwashed bodies was truly something else.
"Bloody blasted humans! And they call this civilization?!"
Durak's adventures within the city would be chronicled later. While the book 'By Blood and Beard' was incorrect that he cleared a den of Cambions beneath the city, and 'A Godling's Tale' was so full of falsehoods that it claimed that Durak uncovered a cult of Lloth, he did infact have something of a rough time in his first foray. Almost immediately he managed to get lost. So lost, in fact, that he ended up within the city's thief's guild, where he was talked into buying a book that would 'increase his dexterity to indwarvenly levels!' He also, perhaps unsurprisingly, managed to get himself poisoned. Were it not for the fact that forcing assassins to work for you makes for less than loyal subordinates, his quest would have ended right there. As it was, he left a trail of bodies behind him as he sought the cure. More specifically, the anonymous historians (done for their own safety, for some of those they included were still alive and quite touchy) who penned 'The Greatest Murders Of The Age' was correct when he said that Durak brutally killed high priestess Mistmyr and the entire clergy of Umberlee.
While in reality, it happened because he expressed shock that the priestess were willing to murder a child and then charge 2,000 gold crowns for the return of the corpse, something which offended the high priestess in the extreme.
Moreso, in a move that would later earn him quite a deal of fame, he failed in a contract to procure the fabled helm of Balduran, but instead found Balduran's Cloak. It would be the only artifact of Balduran that would survive the burglary which later robbed the city of its most famed artifacts, with the rest of Balduran's equipment ending up in Amn.
He also hired himself out as a mercenary for the flaming fist, his burgeoning reputation after saving Nashkel meaning that the organization was willing to open their coffers to him. In this, he assisted them in hunting down a murderous ogre mage and saving the trading cartels of Baldur's Gate from a doppleganger infestation.
It was thus with great excitement that he eventually earned the right to do what he had been itching to accomplish: to drown the Iron Throne's headquarters in blood! Given a contract by no less than one of the Grand Dukes, he marched into the building with his head held up high and his shield firmly held in front of him.
It...did not go quite as expected.
To his surprise, he was allowed to walk in unmolested. The guards, such as they were, were incompetent in the extreme, allowing him to search through the compound with only the most basic of inquiries. It wasn't until he reached the top level that the ambush was sprung.
No less than seven assassins surrounded him. With steel and spells they assaulted him, cutting off any avenue of retreat. In an attempt to find a defensible position, he allowed them to flee up a narrow flight of stairs...and onto the roof.
With his back to the railing, and over a half dozen enemies before him, Durak realized that there was nowhere left to retreat. He firmly planted his feet and raised his shield. Three warriors in front of him, including a hideous doppleganger. Wizards and clerics behind them. He was outnumbered and outgunned..
....
Many a concerned commoner ran to the Flaming Fists that day. A bard later penned a song about what happened, entitled "It's Raining Men." For it is rarely a good idea to corner a dwarf, for it makes them fight all the harder. That, and if you can't surround them, then all you can do is fight them face to face, a losing proposition be you man, orc, or even a giant. Sadly for the Iron Throne, there were no giants there that day.
A battered and bloody Durak later returned to the Flaming Fist compound, along with a paper trail of inconclusive evidence. It was enough to convince his patrons that the Iron Throne was likely the culprits of the entire mess...and that it would also be a good idea to get the dwarf as far away from the city as possible lest their involvement in the storming of the Iron Throne compound become known.
As such, they offered him another lucrative contract, one that he did not have the choice of refusing. They were to send him back to Candlekeep, where the leaders of the Iron Throne were meeting. Durak eagerly accepted, though he never did quite learn their reasoning behind it.
By sending him there, as secretly as they did, they had everything to gain. In the best case scenario, he would uncover enough evidence for them to legally act on. In the worst case scenario, there would be another slaughter. Then they could deny all involvement, arrest and execute him to prove that they had no part in it, and then go on with their lives with the problem solved. Either way, the government of Baldur's Gate had everything to gain.
Or as Durak though, the Iron Throne had everything to lose. For a grudge had been made, and it would be avenged!
As always, I thouroughly enjoy to read your stories. Sitting at work, gonna spend another long, boring day with excel, wishing instead I had the possibility to just rush home and play some BG. Your story-telling spurs my imagination and make me want to play the game.
Level=8
Closeness to death=Too damn close. As in I was sweating bullets. I was certainly glad that I took the time to get him his plate from Durlag's tower and the cloak of Balduran. Otherwise he certainly would have died.
You know a fight is close when you watch the swings with anticipation.
And thank you for reading. I'm glad you are enjoying it.
And with that, Durak found himself back in Candlekeep. Standing within the fortress-monastery once more, he was struck by how small it felt. After walking through the trap-ladden tower of Durlag, and rubbing shoulders with the masses of Baldur's Gate, the dusty halls of Candlekeep felt diminished.
He wandered the courtyard and the streets aimlessly at first, taking in the familiar sites and sounds. He knew that he had a job to do, but he couldn't help himself from tracking down his childhood companions and tutors. Phylidia was her usual self, a brilliant scholar whose mind was slowly slipping. Dreppin was as he always was, and Durak greatly enjoyed sitting for awhile next to the cows, reminiscing on old times. And Hull and Fuller, both on duty, agreed that when their shift was over many a drink would be had. As such, Durak went straight to Winthrop's Inn. It would be a few hours yet until they could arrive, and he planned to see if the ale still tasted as he remembered it.
Sitting at a table, nursing his stein, Durak heard a familiar voice. Reevor. He turned, a smile on his face at the thought of seeing his old mentor.
"Rat bastard." Reevor's voice was dripping with scorn. "You've been away without leave, soldier. Were you expecting forgiveness?!"
"Reevor, Gorion-"
"Are you expecting redemption?"
"Blast it, I-"
"Well spare me!"
Durak fell silent, his smile having turned into a scowl. "I want five hundred push-ups, and I want them NOW!"
"Reevor. I *followed* me orders. Ye know that."
"Did ye now? Then why was it that Gorion's body was found and nay yours?"
"He...he told me to run."
"Oh, so you're a coward then? Left ye own father to die!"
"Shut...your...mouth." Durak's teeth ground and his fists clenched. Withnrop was saying something, but neither dwarf was paying attention.
"Or what? Ye'll run away again? And to think, all the time I wasted on ye! A coward!"
"SHUT UP!" Durak surged to his feet and shoved the older dwarf. Reevor took several steps backwards.
"Is that how it is? Well come on then! I'll fix this mistake, right 'nuff."
Durak stood over the unconscious dwarf. He was breathing hard, though not from exertion. He was angry, because he knew in his heart that it was easier to be angry than guilty. At that moment he was painfully aware that the entire tavern was staring at him.
"The next one tae call me a coward ends up like him! Ye hear me?!"
Nobody said anything. Though Winthrop looked...hurt. Dissapointed. Durak realized that there was a lump in his throat that he didn't realize was there before. Without saying another word he surged out of the inn, his meeting with Hull and Fuller totally forgotten.
He went straight to the priest's quarters. Parda would be there. Good old Parda. He always knew what to do, how to make things right. He threw the door open, only to find a priest squatting on the floor, a scalpel in his hands, dissecting a cat.
"What...what the bloody fook are ye doin'?"
The priest looked up at him and waved him away dismissively.
"Studying."
"A dead cat? The blood...it's all o'er the fookin' place! What the fook are ye up tae?!"
The priest hissed at him. "Hsss! Leave me be, monkey. I've no time for the likes of you."
Durak was angry, and he wasn't thinking straight. He walked up and smacked the scalpel out of the priest's hands. "What'd ye say? Huh?! This is where ye priests sleep an' ye've got blood all o'er the place! Why-"
"Hsss! I'll taste you now! I'll study your dead flesh as I do the cat!"
Before Durak's eyes the priest started to change. His flesh grayed, his arms grew longer. Incomprehension was written clearly on the dwarf's face as the doppleganger hit him across the face. Durak fell to the ground. Immediately he thought of Durlag. Of how the great hero had been forced to kill his own clan. As the doppleganger approached, he thought of Phylidia. Fuller, Hull...Reevor. Winthrop? Who had been replaced? Who was already dead?! The doppleganger reached down for him, and he grabbed it by its wrist. It tried to pull back, surprised at the dwarf's strength. Instead, Durak pulled the doppleganger to the floor.
"Bastard! Ye bastard! Who else? WHO ELSE?!" The doppleganger pawed ineffectually at Durak's hands, which were around its neck. "TELL ME! TELL ME WHO ELSE YE BASTARD!" He shook the dopplegange with all of his strength, slamming it again and again into the ground. He continued this long after the creature stopped moving. Finally, with tears rolling down his face, only to be lost in his beard, a single croaking sob came around. He buried his face into the creature's chest.
It had hurt enough to lose Gorion. But now it dawned on him that everyone that he knew and cared about could well be dead. Or they could be alive, and unaware that these monsters would soon be coming for them. And the worst part of it was, he felt completely powerless to help...
It is horrifying, no matter who Charname is.
As for Reevor, what happened there was the spur of the moment. When he insulted Durak, that dialogue played out in my mind. I was kind of afraid that I'd end my run by attacking him, but fortunately non lethal damage didn't cause a rep loss and the watchers didn't go hostile. So that worked out well.
Shistal. He would know what to do. Durak ran through the keep, past faces he could not trust. Shistal was one of the wisest, most learned men that he had ever known. Shistal knew every monk, every scholar, even most visitors. If anyone would be able to help with the doppleganger infestation, it would be he.
"Shistal! Shistal! Claggedin's twin mugs, I be glad to see ye!"
The monk turned around. There was no spark of recognition in his eyes. Rather, he merely mumbled something about needing to return to his work.
"Shital? It be me...Durak. Ye remember me, aye?"
Shistal started talking about how he didn't recognize Durak, and tried to change the topic by asking about his trip to the cloakwood. The problem was, Durak hadn't told anyone here that he had been to the cloakwood.
"Ah...nay...nay ye too."
"...not me...what?" Shistal was starting to fluster, and his tone was changing to one far more harsher than the monk had ever spoken with.
Durak reached down and pulled out his hammer. There was no more hope in his eyes, just sadness.
"I didnae ever want to do this."
"Hsss! Strike me then, fool. Strike me and they shall blame you for his murder."
"At least ye'll be dead, nay?"
Durak swung. He missed, as Shistal leapt back at a speed far too fast for a man of his age.
"Fool! I'll feast on your-"
The doppleganger was in the midst of changing when the next blow landed. Shistal's head, now half that of a doppleganger, was at a very unnatural angle when the body his the ground. Durak stood over it for a moment. The other monks in the library were starting to run from the scene.
If they had already gotten Shistal, when who else was turned? Who could he go to? Tethtoril? Ulraunt? They were too powerful to be easily killed, weren't they? With resignation in every step, he turned and continued up the stairs. How could he even know?
---
The after effects of the spell left a strange taste in his mouth. It was like he had taken a bite out of a bolt of lightning. At the very least he knew that Tethtoril could still be trusted. He hadn't even made it up to the mage's quarters when he was arrested. Apparently the Iron Throne leadership had been found dead, and a 'witness' had implicated him in the matter. Ulraunt had declared Durak to be guilty within the hour and he was scheduled for execution when Tethtoril had him teleported deep beneath the keep. Down into the catacombs.
What followed was a nightmare from which Durak feared he would never wake. Down there, in the dark, he wandered old corridors where dozens of bodies were haphazardly piled up, and within which ghouls feasted. Around ever corner he saw the smiling faces of friends and companions who turned on him with private words full of spite and pain. Everyone he knew and cared about was down there, and with a bloody hammer he broke them all.
All except for Deder and Arkanis. His two tutors, trainers, and friends. When he saw them, his hand wavered. With tear choked voice, he bade them to flee when they came, offering their aid. Even with the thought of Durlag firmly in his mind, he just couldn't bring himself to strike down their forms.
The two left, watching him warily. Were they as they said they were? Were they indeed allies who had come to investigate? Were they shapechangers, come to kill him when his back was turned? Who could he trust? Who could he trust?!
Through the catacombs he went, lost in a daze of madness and violence. Ancient tombs were shattered by his hammer, for in his madness and grief everything that could be broken was. Corpses by the handful littered the halls, all bearing the faces of those whom he loved.
When he finally stumbled into the light of day, Durak came out a changed dwarf. Gone were his tears. Now all that filled him was an anger. A burning rage that threatened to tear him apart from the inside, to engulf him in flames. To burn until there was nothing left inside of him.
Sarevok! It was he who had done this to him. Durak knew, for his men had stayed behind to meet with the murderer. They had found Durak instead, and they did not live long enough to regret their mistake. Sarevok...Durak would find him. He would find the murderer, and he would mete out vengeance for the fallen. Covered in blood as he was, Durak left his former home behind, never to return.
Durak returned to Baldur's Gate with bloody vengeance on his mind. Once again he stormed the Iron Throne's building, only to learn that it was toppling without him even needing to be there! Apparently, in his absence Sarevok had made a play to become a Grand Duke, and had cannibalized the trading cartel to do so. Gone were the guards, gone were the acolytes. All that was left was Sarevok's lover, Cythandria, who had stayed behind to make a present out of Durak's head.
She was a conjurer of some repute. But when her summoned ogres had been banished and both her legs broken, all she could do was plead for mercy. But mercy was not for Durak to give, for one cannot give what does not belong to you. Mercy could only be given by the dead. He swiftly ended her life, and then took from her corpse Sarevok's diary. Reading it, a lesser man might have been moved by the tragedies that it contained. To Durak, any man who saw the murder of his mother should know not to kill the parents of others! Of more interest though was talk of assassins in the undercellar, who would murder the remaining grand dukes at Sarevok's inauguration.
With such thoughts on his mind, he was then approached by Sarevok's other lover, Tamoko. She asked to meet Durak, promising information. But when she demanded that Durak make an oath to her, without telling him what it was, he refused out of hand. More fool humans, who took their words so loosely that they would give it without knowing what they pledged it to!
He let her live, for the mere fact that she was but a wee naive girl who was trying to avoid violence. Let her live and grow up. And mayhaps she would learn the value of your word and what it meant to keep good company.
From there, life was a simple enough matter. Sarevok's assassins were waiting for him in the undercellar, with blade and spell. Neither amounted to much besides leaving the two of them as a bloody mess, and with their invitations firmly in his gauntled hand.
The inauguration itself did not go as anyone expected it. The guards at the gate proved to be incompetent beyond excuse, allowing a fully armed and armored dwarf to stomp into such a formal event. This had a two part effect. First, it caused many flaming fist mercenaries to converge upon him, as a precaution upon seeing him while his credentials were investigated. And secondly, when Sarevok saw him, he reacted in as poor a fashion as possible. He immediately sprang his attack upon his fellow grand dukes, looking to kill them before any possible interruption could take place.
At his command, a good portion of Baldur's Gate nobility shifted and turned, shedding their fleshly disguises and becoming gray skinned dopplegangers. The flaming fist mercenaries, upon seeing this, charged to protect the grand dukes. Nobody stopped Durak from joining into the melee.
When it became clear that not only would the grand dukes survive, but Sarevok's role would be ousted, the man joined the conflict as well. There was little he could do though, against Durak, two grand dukes and over a half dozen flaming fist mercenaries. The tale itself would have ended then and there if it were not for the timely intervention of Winski Perorate, Sarevok's mentor.
Fortune was not with the murderer though. While he did indeed escape, he did not do so fast enough. Without a thought for his own safety, Durak charged after his half-brother through the sorcerous portal. Away from the Ducal palace they went, and away from the secular justice of Baldur's Gate.
When Durak's eyes adjusted, he found Winski Perorate bleeding on the ground before him.
"Ye! Tell me now man, who ye be and why ye be helpin' that bastich!"
The man coughed up bloody froth, before gleefully telling of his role in training and shaping Sarevok into becoming the man that he had become. Sarevok apparently wanted godhood, but all that Perorate wanted was to be remembered, even if it was as a villain.
Historians would debate about the morality of Durak's killing of Perorate. Many, including the populace at large, thought that the man should have been taken alive for trial, rather than murdered in cold blood. Durak only commented, officially that is, on the matter once. And truly, it was a quote for the ages.
"Were ye there? Then take ye quill and shove it up ye fookin' arse, ye yellow livered nancy boy!"
It did very little to help his reputation.
At the moment though, he found himself in the undercity, an ancient settlement that Baldur's Gate had been built over.
His relentless march did not slow. It did not slow when the undead natives of the city rose up against him. It did not stop when an iron throne task force tried to stand between him and Sarevok.
It did not stop when Tamoko stood before a temple of dead Bhaal, where she made her last and final mistake.
She had mistaken his earlier decision to allow her to live as precedent. She was now in the way of his vengeance, and she was no match for the dwarf.
At the temple itself Durak took a moment to open his pack. Every potion he had, ever scroll he collected, all were used. His already divinely enhanced physique swelled to such heights that he would only feel once again in his life. Never before had he been so angered, never again would he be so focused. He swore, at that moment, that Sarevok and all who stood with him would die.
Durak never spoke to any living soul about what happened inside that temple...
...except for that he had walked out, nobody else did, and there was naught else to say. In truth, he was greatly outnumbered by powerful opponents. Using potions of invisibility and his sandstone ring, he separated and killed all within one by one. It was not an easy fight, and many a potion of healing was drunk. He even had to take the time to use an enchanted arrow to strip Sarevok of his many mysitcal protections. But in the end, his oath was fulfilled. The many dead of Candlekeep had been avenged, including his own foster-father Gorion.
But as he stood there, bruised, bloody, and victorious, he could not help but wonder, what next? For so long his actions had been dictated by others. And now, finally free of his half-brother's machinations, he was without a home, without any comrades, and without a clear goal for the future. It was but his hope that he would now know the peace needed to decide, for himself, what to do with his life.
---
END.
As an extra, I took the last save before this and had Durak fight Drizzt, to see what would happen. I didn't have all of the right potions, but I got most of the buffs up.
Open the spoiler to see what happens when elven speed meets dwarven might.
---
I'm tempted to do a no-reload BG2 run now, but I'm very hesitant. I've never managed to do it before. I don't think it is even possible to do it solo with a pure melee class. And I don't want to end his saga ignominously by doing something stupid like walking into a trap, or getting mazed...
By all means, continue into BG2. Your saves should be sufficient to deal with BG2's many disablers, if you're a dwarf.
Did you melee Sarevok? That would be very impressive my friend!
Like @semiticgod I'd also like to see Durak's tale continue in BG2
Indeed I meleed Sarevok. Drizzt too. Dwarven Defenders are absolute beasts in CC. Take a look at his equipment loadout and stats at the end. He was hitting like a truck and soaking up damage like he was in SoA already.
So, Semicicgod and Blackraven, what party should I use in BG2? I'm not nearly confident enough to do a no-reload solo run with a melee class. I mean...a fighter/thief can get UAI, to get around most of the game's problems. But a pure fighter can't. Many fights you can't melee unless you at least have 'breach.'
What I'm thinking...
(1) Durak
(2-3) Minsc and Jaheira. Meet them in the dungeons, and each have a need for vengeance. 'fair nuff....kind of hard to kick someone out when they have a burning desire to kill the same person as you.
(4) Korgan. Because it'd be a dwarven defender and a dwarven battlerager in the same party. That's 2x the amount of dwarven buttkicking!
(5) Imoen. Because obviously leaving her with Jaheira and Khalid didn't work out so well last time.
(6) Everyone else!
That is, everyone else gets to stay in only so long as they are needed.
Ex: Do the trademeet quests, and keep Cernd until his personal quest is done.
----
Then again...I'm also itching to try another run which I have planned. Which is what I call the 'shorty run.'
Dwarven Fighter/Cleric
Jan (thief/mage)
Korgan battle rager)
Mazzy (paladin-lite)
2 dwarfs, a gnome and a halfling. Comes with enough thief/mage/cleric power to keep the party going, and enough front liners to not crumble like wet tissue paper.
As to BG2. I think it's an excellent idea to play with a party. It will certainly improve Durak's odds of survival. I love themed parties, so the shorty party sounds great to me. Four NPC is a bit suboptimal if you take into account XP and level progression. You could import your save into an MP game and roll two more custom NPCs. The party you propose is very strong in the warrior department, but would benefit from more arcane and divine magic even if the arcane magic comes in the form of a second Illusionist. A Cleric/Illusionist comes to mind. Or if you're into mods you could install Quayle ReDone: http://forum.baldursgate.com/discussion/39137/skie-and-quayle-mods-available-for-bg2ee. It allows you to pick up Quayle (if you play the Circus Quest right).
A Fighter/Thief (or Swashbuckler) that ends up swinging the Carsomyr at 10 APR with (G)WW would be pretty devastating as well.
Should you decide to go for the most effective party, I'd recommend:
- Keldorn with his dispels and true sight,
- Jaheira with her druidic magic (Insect Plagues, Ironskins, lots of summons) to complement your clerical spells,
- Korgan with all his rage immunities,
- Jan Jansen as a competent Thief and a fine secondary arcane caster,
- and Edwin as your main arcane caster.*
* I understand that Edwin and Keldorn can come to blows, though I know that various people have completed at least SoA with both in one party. You'd probably need to have a high CHA party leader, and try to keep the two apart from each other. Or you could just go with Nalia/Imoen of course.
As for the fire resistance, I had memories of Angelo burning parties to a crisp with his arrows. The two rings and helm were insurance against that. Though in hindsight, I indeed could have switched things around after killing him.
---
I'll give it some thought before I start anything. Really plan it out before I start, lest it ends prematurely.
If you have no such cleric, though, then you might consider allowing one tall person to join your group: Keldorn, since his Dispel Magic will be safer and more flexible if your party isn't using many buffs, and since his MR with Carsomyr will make him almost as hard to disable as your other party members.
Either way, it's a good idea to plan things out first.