A gnome and his Vampire's Revenge can never be separated (BG1)

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Clues found in the mine and outside on the sign caused Ceveren’s eminent mind to believe that the next, and hopefully final, stop on his quest was the city of Baldur’s Gate, and so he commanded his feet to take him there.

He arrived late one night. It was completely dark, save for the torches and lanterns that lit the gates on the bridge that spanned across the water to the city, and the high windows of the wall beyond. He stepped out on the bridge and began to cross. It was too dark to see the river running under it, and no lights reflected in its surface. It seemed to the gnome as he looked down that a black void was gaping under him, and above no stars gleamed. Suddenly he stopped.

“You cannot pass!” called out a voice from the gate halfway across, and in the torchlight from within Ceveren could see that it was barred by an iron portcullis and that a dark form the height of a man was standing before it; obviously the owner of the voice. He continued. “I am a servant of this city’s fire, member of the Flaming Fist. You cannot pass. The dark will not avail you, gnome of Unknown Origin. Go back to the Shadow. You cannot pass.”
Then as Ceveren looked, the dark shape lifted a long object high in the air, as if to smash it against the stone bridge.
“You cannot…” the voice began again, now loud and strong but slow, but was interrupted as another shape appeared.
“Alright, that’s enough of that nonsense Harry. You know that the city is open again now, and I’d let this gnome in anyway, if he is who I think he is.”
“Sorry boss,” said the first shape, and passed through an unseen door beside the gate. The portcullis was drawn up.
Motioning for Ceveren to come closer, the second shape spoke again. “First off, let me introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Scar, second in command of the Flaming Fist, and no, it wasn’t me who was thrown down a cliff in that film you probably saw when you were a kid. You’re the one who was involved in the fiasco at the Nashkel Mines, right?”
The gnome nodded.
“In that case, you’re just the gnome I need…” Scar explained to Ceveren all the troubles within the city, and learned from him of all the evil doings of the Iron Throne. The gnome, seeing a potential connection and the opportunity to feed his Swiss bank account with an additional two-thousand gold coins, decided to help out.

He entered the city.
He turned right around and exited again.
Unfortunately for him, what he sought to escape left the city too, following him.
“Ho there wanderer, stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man,” said the pursuer in an all too familiar voice. He was jogging to keep up with the gnome’s pace. Ceveren wondered why, if he necessarily must repeat the same greeting over and over again, he didn’t choose a better one.
“Good day to thee, young one. What a marvellous happenstance that we should again cross paths, especially in…”
“So is this Elminster, or Gandalf?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, Elminster, hehe.”
“Really?”
“Yea… No. On second thoughts, I am most assuredly Gandalf. Or that is at least what they call me in the North. Olorin I was in…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ceveren lied. “Now, can I have your autograph?”
“The full one, or just Gandalf?”
“Ehhm… just Gandalf, please.”
“Right.”
Elmins… Gandalf scribbled down his name on a piece of paper, and Ceveren took it and put it in a safe place in his armour.
“Now, was there anything you wanted to say?”
“Well, in fact, yes, but you interrupted me, master gnome. I was going to have a long, boring and pointless monologue about someone named Gorion and your heritage, but now I have forgotten it. At my age, memory often fails you know… Oh, ho, Elminster will not be pleased…”
“You mean you serve him now?” the gnome asked. “And,” he added, lowering his voice, “you do know that one of the bridge-guards is impersonating you, right?”
“Yes, yes, I am training him in my spare time, actually. Quite the talented chap, though he has not managed to make bridges crack and break under him yet, but I am confident he will in time. As for Elminster, yes, I serve him. I have fallen into shadow. His shadow. There is only room for one long-bearded wizard with a pointy, wide-brimmed hat in the Realms, and he happened to be the first, even though I am certainly older than him. Umm… And now, err, I take my leave, and wish thee well.” And he left.

With newfound vigour and strength, Ceveren entered the city again, and immediately bent his mind to the tasks ahead, and completed them all with ease, and men and women and children rejoiced and… ahem.
Since leads pointed at Candlekeep, where the Iron Throne’s leaders’ were going to have a secret meeting, and Duke Eltan was nice enough to hand him the book he needed, he set out again, with his ancient home, Candlekeep, as destination.


(Sorry for the delay, people, but I've been lost in NWN lately, and I recently began DMing my own little campaign... And did I mention I've been playing NWN? Anyway, hope y'all liked this part, and keep up the good spammin'.

Next up: Ceveren Suicidegnome's Excessively Boring Adventures Among The Books Of Candlekeep.)

 

great episode once again. Bring on the next part!

 

*Laughs her gem-ass off*

This is funny. This is classic. This is funny. This is cla...

*gets dragged off by merry men in white cloaks*

 

This episode was supposed to relate Ceveren Suicidegnome’s Excessively Boring Adventures Among The Books Of Candlekeep, but as it turned out that Ceveren Suicidegnome’s Excessively Boring Adventures Among The Books Of Candlekeep were in fact not only excessively, but illegally boring, we will skip that part and so avoid unpleasant confrontations with the authorities.

Here follows a short resumé: Ceveren went to Candlekeep, met some old, err, friends, read some books, found out he is the child of a god, thought that to be pretty cool and was arrested for the murders on the Iron Throne leaders on his way up to his favourite TV sofa. He was helped to escape by Tethtoril ‘Greetings young one’ the Red, was quite happy that someone else had done the job (that is, ‘fixed’ the Iron Throne leaders) for him, ran past some four score doppelgangers and went back to Baldur’s Gate to finish it all by thwarting the plans of the one known as Sarevok.

He hadn’t taken more than three steps from the city gates, when he heard loud voices from the street ahead. Three Flaming Fist soldiers stepped forth.
“Halt and hold! You stand accused of murder most…” – there was a flash of bright orange as the gnome dashed off into the city – “foul… Eh? Where’d he go?”
Ceveren headed straight for the BGPD*, better known as the Fist Barracks, where he hoped to find Scar, or Duke Eltan whom he had heard good things about.

As he walked through the barracks, to his genuine surprise and joy, he heard words he expected never to hear again through one of the cell doors: “So hard to find decent folk nowadays…”
“Hey Firebead! How are ya, y’old bugger?”
“Hmm, anyone there? Ah! Gorion’s ward isn’t it?” the wizard replied. “Well, I’m quite fine actually. Sorely miss my computer, of course, but I’ve managed to build a new net of contacts here… And what cool spells I’ve learnt! Say, you wouldn’t mind if I turned you into a squirrel now, would you?”
“Err, another time. Listen, I’m gonna get you out of here. You go back to Beregost and re-establish your business, okay?”
“Right.”
The gnome blasted the door open with his precious Ring of Energy, and handed the old mage a potion of invisibility. Then he resumed his mission.

It turned out that Scar was dead and Eltan was dying, but somehow he managed to rescue the sick Grand Duke. Following clues found on the body of a doppelganger in Eltan’s quarters, Ceveren was soon searching the sewers for a pair of assassins vital to Sarevok’s plot, which, to be honest, he didn’t give a damn about; he only wished to finish the task set before him. At length, he found them in the Undercellars. Employing his usual tactics, he sat back and watched while the pair slaughtered each other, and calmly looted the bodies afterwards.
He found an invitation to the Ducal Palace.
“Cool!” he thought, and was off.

The Palace was a beautiful place. Ceveren didn’t get much time to admire the architecture, however, as he soon heard a booming and awfully familiar voice. He hurried toward its source. Time was getting short, it seemed. Springing around a corner and through a door, he saw him: the same armoured man that had ambushed and presumably killed Gorion that night long ago, before his reckoning of time had even started.
“…murdered, I inherited his control over the western branch of the Iron Throne,” the man said “They have a great deal of stock piled iron, enough for all our needs. I will give this to the city to… What!?” He noticed the gnome among the guests, and appeared to be put quite off balance. “Gah! You… You dare interrupt my eminent speech?” he roared. “Well, no matter! Kill them all!”

Suddenly, the guests revealed themselves: they were all mirrorfiends. They began hacking at everything that was not Sarevok or themselves. After a while, when the charms of the gnome’s cloak started taking effect, they were hacking at everything. They were soon decimated enough that Grand Dukes Belt and Liia Jannath easily could take care of the rest. Within moments, the floor was littered with their foul corpses. However, when everyone finally turned to Sarevok, he was gone.
Ceveren began to despair, doubting that his task would ever be completed. Sarevok had eluded him, and would be impossible to find in so large a city.
Or so he thought.
He didn’t count on the Dukes to be archwizards in disguise.
“He’s at the Thieves’ Guild,” said Liia. “You gonna follow him or what?”
“Thieves’ Guild? Where’s that?” asked Ceveren.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll teleport you there!”

And they did. A second later, he crashed into the floor of a building that bore no resemblance whatsoever to a Ducal Palace. Around him stood many shady figures, most of them loudly complaining that people no longer had any respect for private property. He inquired about Sarevok’s whereabouts, and they pointed at a stair. He descended it.

Five minutes later, he stood in a ruined underground city. Before him loomed an ancient temple of Bhaal. Sarevok was bound to be inside. The end was finally drawing nigh. Or so Ceveren thought.

*Baldur’s Gate Police Department

( Next up: The (Hopefully) Final Showdown

Somehow I get the feeling this episode wasn't quite as good as the others... But you know what to do: keep spamming! )

[ August 16, 2002, 14:17: Message edited by: Namuras ]

 

It was not as hilarious as the other episodes, but still good.

 

OK, I spam, and I spam well. Not too good, surely you could have shoved some Sauron thing or something in there, but who cares, the end is near

 

*In a sppoky SW voice*The end is near...
*someone sneezes*
Damn, you ruined it.

 

Ceveren entered the ancient temple.

The inside was one big, evil-looking hall. Its lofty ceiling was borne up by mighty arches, and in the alcoves between them stood eerie statues of black stone. On the floor in the centre of the room a gigantic grinning skull was carved. A great spiked throne rested against the far wall. The very air was filled with a sensation of silent malice. It seemed a place even the dead would fear. A flowery chesterfield sofa and a wicked widescreen TV with a VCR on it stood in a corner.

The gnome advanced through the hall, carefully avoiding what looked to be traps, but setting off a few nevertheless. He spied Sarevok sitting on the throne.
As he walked up to him, the large man rose to his full height, and with booming voice he spoke, “You are indeed family. No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the Realms.”
Ceveren, uncharacteristically, didn’t interrupt. But, as could be expected, he did not listen either. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re right. But what’s that doing here?” He pointed at the TV.
“Ah, that! You like it? There’s nothing like sitting in a comfy sofa watching a good movie when you’re plotting for ascension to godhood. Haven’t been anything good on lately, though.”
“Movie – he said movie. Gorion might have had better luck with this one,” the gnome thought.
“You seen this one?” he said aloud, holding forth the videotape he borrowed in Gullykin.
Sarevok took the tape, and examined its label. “Can’t say I have…”
“What say you we watch it before we fight?”
“Sure.”

The two made their way to the sofa. It was already occupied. On it sat three people: a stupid-looking half-ogre (the same one that Ceveren with ridiculous ease had outwitted at the bandit camp, actually), a man clad in the Flaming Fist uniform, and an elderly robed fellow; obviously a wizard.
“Angelo! Semaj! Don’t you have anything better to do than watching Tazok’s cartoons all day?” Sarevok said, slapping the mage on the head.
“Aw, man! What was that for?” Semaj complained. ”And besides, what else is there to do? Play avoid-the-trap on that skull? Tazok won’t let us watch anything else!”
“That may be so, but now we have a real movie to check out. Make room for us!”
He put the tape in the VCR, pushed ‘play’, and sat back in the sofa with the others. Seeing that it actually worked, Ceveren breathed a sigh of relief.

And so it came to pass that here, at the end of all things (for one of the godchildren, at least), Ceveren Suicidegnome finally got to see the whole of this most marvellous film, the one he had longed to see for so long. And he was displeased. Could it really end like that?
Apparently, Sarevok shared his opinion. “What kind of crap end was that?” he said after the credits had rolled past. “I’m glad you’re with me Sam,” he continued in a sarcastic voice. “What? They didn’t even do anything!”
“You never read the book, did you?” inquired the mage, chuckling.
“There’s a book?” asked Ceveren.
“No, I certainly did not,” said Sarevok. “And you did, then?”
“Of course! Do you really think I sit around studying scrolls all day? No, a man needs some variety. Anyway, there are three parts of the book. What we have seen is merely the first one.”
“Doesn’t matter!” screamed Sarevok. “I’m so mad and disappointed I think I’m gonna kill the gnome!”
“You would have done that anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Anyway -” Sarevok drew his mighty sword, and chopped Ceveren’s orange-haired head off with one blow. His body fell down from the sofa, blood pouring forth from his neck, forming a crimson pool on the stone floor.

Options. Load game. Quicksave.

Ceveren sat in the sofa again, his head back on his neck. On the screen in front of him three small boats were floating down a great river.
“Good, exactly where I last saved,” he thought. When at last the film ended again, he tried to charm Sarevok’s companions and turn them against him. But alas, it didn’t work.

Sigh… Options. Load game. Quicksave.

This time he tried to charm while running around, keeping to a safe distance. It still didn’t work. Although Sarevok couldn’t come into melee range, traps eventually killed the gnome this time.

Options. Load game. Quicksave.

The gnome was getting quite frustrated now. However, before his last death, he discovered something interesting: there seemed to be one trap that damaged not only him, but Sarevok too!
So, he opened his pack, and took out one potion of every kind he could find, and gulped down all of them except the Potion of Invisibility. The others, busy watching the film, were oblivious to his activity.
When the end had come and Sarevok was reaching for his sword again, he darted off, but stopped just in front of the right trap. When the large man came close enough, he drank the last potion, took a step backwards, and disappeared from view. A hail of exploding skulls started pounding the place where Ceveren had stood (and still did, but those potions he’d drunk were probably enough to withstand several major meteor swarms at once). Sarevok, being controlled by AI*, did not move, or even swing his sword randomly in the air, and was peppered with splinters from the exploding skulls. Soon enough, he fell, looking more like a hedgehog than a man.
“Darn it, I really wanted to see the other two movies…” he whispered and, taking a last painful breath, finally fell into oblivion. He didn’t even reload (again, AI).

His three followers, seeing their master dead, buggered off. It was later found that they had all moved south to Trademeet and opened a pizzeria.

Ceveren remained a while in the temple of his sire, or more accurately, on the sofa in the temple of his sire; watching the Film over and over again. Occasionally he would run through the maze to the city above to pick up a new one, or check the post office for packets from Firebead (with whom he’d struck a deal). A new age had started with the downfall of Sarevok and the viewing of the great Film; one of preservation and renewal. He called it the fourth**. It was a good age.
One day though, when, bearing with him a particularly promising package from Firebead, he came home (lacking a better word, he called the temple home) there was someone on the sofa. A young man he was, with semi-long hair and wearing a green shirt and beige trousers, but Ceveren recognized him: it was the mysterious stranger from the dreams.
Spotting the gnome by the door, the man spoke, “I suppose you think you’re terribly clever…”
“Yeah! I feel so cool!”
“You are a gnome, Ceveren. To be a gnome, is to be cool. Yet this task was appointed to you, and if you do not find a way, no one will.”
“Err, what d’you mean?”
“There are many quests to be done in this world, Ceveren Suicidegnome, and none of them should be taken lightly.”
The gnome looked like a living question mark.
“You’ve been idle far too long.”
“Que? I already did what I was supposed to!”
“No. That was not it.”
“Doh - ehh, alas!” Ceveren exclaimed, dropping the package and accidentally putting his hand in his pocket. “Hmm! What do I have in my pocket?”
“Three guesses?”
“Umm, sure.”
“Your paw, a knife or the beautifully made greenstone ring you found on a body in the Mines of Nashkel that you were supposed to return to the poor woman who waited for her husband and bring her the sad news that he is dead. Had you done that, you’d be free to do whatever you damn pleased afterwards.”

Ceveren fainted.

Thus ends this tale, but the gnome lived on:

Ceveren immediately gathered his things and left for the town of Nashkel to fulfil his Quest. It was then he turned his eyes towards Amn and, having completed the delivery of the ring, he settled on a farm just outside Athkatla. For the conveyance of a flowery chesterfield sofa, a TV and a VCR, he enlisted the aid of a young gentlegnome, a certain Jan J. Jansen Esq., who travelled to Baldur’s Gate for him. Three weeks later he returned, safely and with the goods, but when Ceveren woke up next morning he found that the beautiful meadows that used to surround his house were replaced by highly modern turnip fields. Mr. Jansen and a score of simians trained in the fine art of agriculture arrived later the same day. Ceveren didn’t care overmuch though; as he was usually busy watching the films Firebead sent him.
Six months later, the farmhouse had turned into the Realms’ first combined cinema & turnip café, where one could watch the latest films at reasonable prices, while at the same time enjoying one of the many fine turnip beverages and dishes from Mr. Jansen’s cellar and cuisine. And it prospered.

About a year later, after a showing of ‘Episode XVII: Attack of the Gnomes’, a very much unexpected cinema-goer walked up to Ceveren. He congratulated him on his success and asked whether he needed an attendant to take care of the shows. Ceveren accepted, and Sarevok, who’d returned from the dead, joined the staff.

When the remainder of the godchildren had eventually slaughtered one another and he ascended, he left the cinema-café to Sarevok and the Jansen family. He became Ceveren Suicidegnome the Defier of Logic, Deity of Blind Determination, Braving of Impossible Odds and Prevailing, and Very Good Films. Yet even as a god his favourite place was an old, flowery chesterfield sofa in front of a TV. Even in the Heavens he mourned the loss of his bow long ago. Even there he carried Vampire’s Revenge, and does so still; for the power of that blade is too strong.

And what of the mysterious man? Well, it is said in the Realms that I go by many names, but you may know me as the Player.

*Artificial Idiocy
**The previous ones being The Elder Days or Past Largely Unknown, Before Crash (BC) and After Crash (AC).



Ceveren’s inventory directly after completing the game:

Videotape borrowed from Halflings
Fancy winged helmet
Cool green armour
Vampire’s Revenge
A bundle of potions with varying effects
A pair of stylish boots (without warning label)
Some remaining arrows
No bow
Charming cloak
Ring of Energy
Nice-looking belt
Flashlight
453 gold coins (the rest of his fortune was safely deposited in a bank in Switzerland, the location of which shall not be revealed)
Gandalf’s autograph
Some other, unimportant stuff

*****

(There! Delayed by school, NWN and laziness, but here it is. The End.

Any questions that remain unanswered? Ask, and I perhaps I'll even give an answer.

Also, I just want to say... This game is easy to complete with any class, with almost any restrictions you put on yourself, on any difficulty setting. You don't believe me? Well, after this, you should. )

 

Wow an amazing final episode to an amazing saga I salute you Namuras

 

This is ... the end?

Well at least this last episode was fantastic.

Do another saga, Namuras and make it as good as this one, will you?

 

This was... amazing. We'll always remember Ceveren and The One Film...

Enough of the babble. That was FREAKING GOOD.

More.

Ezellohar
(This was good)

 

Nay, I believe this was the last serial story I write on SP, as I now wish to concentrate fully on DMing and NWN. If ever I find myself wanting to write another (short) story though, I shall post it here.

But maybe... No, that is probably not a good idea.

And this does not mean that others can't start new and wonderful tales. I am looking forward to reading whatever good stuff the rest of the SPers may come up with.



(Did I mention that the cinema-turnip café still exists somewhere in the world? Well, it does, and most of the profit still goes to a certain Swiss bank account. Of course, to store all the gold, that bank now covers more than half of Switzerland and is beginning to look for possibilities to expand to Austria. )

 

And the gnome of NeverKnown origins finished his adventure with becoming a god-child slayer at level 2 and a god himself at level 3
Impressive. Talk about powergaming

OUTSTANDING story this is i wish you would write something similiar some day