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shewolfofvilnius · 4 months ago

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New Story: Sisters' Redemption

Redeemed Dark Urge asks the gods to save her sister's soul.

For almost a year I've wanted to do something with my first character, a redeemed Dark Urge named Sofija who became a Paladin in service to Selune.

She'd always felt that Orin had, even if unintentionally, been the secret heroine of her story, as it had been her partially freeing Durge from Bhaal's control and influence that had given her a second chance on life, caused her to meet Shadowheart, helped Durge fix the problem she started, and eventually get free of Bhaal forever.

Orin died in a bloody pile, a victim of Bhaal's cruelty, having never gotten a chance at redemption, and she'd felt this BITTERLY unfair. So, she asks for a prayer stone / memorial stone built for her sister as her only reward for saving the city (besides wildlands near Rivington she and Shadowheart had already been granted) and decides to pray for her sister's redemption, too. (I go over this in my 'I Feel Sorry for Orin' post)

In the fic, Redeemed F!Durge and Selunite Shadowheart are married, but do not interact within the fic. Mostly.

It's a short and sweet little 2k word one-shot.

Read on AO3 Full story below the fold

A cool breeze drifted through a secluded meadow adjacent to a forest; as dusk gave way to a new morning, the lands were situated about a days’ walk outside of the village of Rivington, itself a short distance from the sprawling city of Baldur’s Gate.

In the year since the defeat of the Illithid monstrosity called the ‘Netherbrain,’ Rivington itself had prospered immensely, to the point that leaders of the village’s government and the ruling Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate had even broached the subject of annexing Rivington and its holdings into Baldur’s Gate proper.

One such holding at the outermost edges of Rivington’s territory were the lands containing the forest and meadow, claimed as property by a couple serving in devoted service to the Moonmaiden, the goddess Selûne. The land had been gifted to two heroes in service of the realms.

One, a cleric, had become known as an accomplished healer whose services frequently led her to travel as far away as a tenday’s journey to help those in need.

She was joined by her wife, a paladin whose oath had originally been sworn as devotion but whom had felt an urgent calling to re-swear her oath as an Oath of Redemption Paladin instead, arriving on scene to deliver first and foremost forgiveness and mercy and atonement, to try to help those who could be helped, and to only ever harm or take life as a last result. Sometimes justice must still be held, but it must always be in the hope that the one who had done wrong had hope to one day better themselves.

More commonly, the cleric and paladin were known as Shadowheart and Sofija, two of the decorated Heroes of Baldur’s Gate who had saved the whole of Faerûn from said Netherbrain, from the so-called “Absolute”, and from the peoples’ own fearful desire to hand power to tyrants in the name of safety.

As gratitude for having saved the whole of creation, at least on this plane, the pair had been gifted a sprawling amount of land near Rivington, which had annexed the wildlands in order to ensure that Sofija and Shadowheart were always counted amongst their number and could call on the city when needed. In return, those seeking the services of the Lady of Silver were encouraged to visit the pair and to try to seek communion with the Moonmaiden from their retreat.

As a bonus, for the area’s more druidic peoples, area rangers, etc., the mostly untamed wildlands meant far simpler communion with either the Oakfather, Silvanus, or to the goddess of the forest Mielikki.

Weeks earlier, those in the know had been shocked, even aghast. Orin the Red had been identified as one of the key masterminds of the conspiracy that had nearly destroyed the whole of Faerûn. She had been the chosen of Bhaal, the God of Murder. Why, in all of the heavens and all of the heavens, would the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate ask, nay, demand a stone of remembrance for one of the city’s greatest monsters. Even for a Redemption Paladin, this was considered a bold request.

As they had fussed and fought at Sofija’s lone request excluding the land which had been gifted, the heroic paladin’s request had been agreed upon with the sole condition: Explain the inscription that Sofija had requested. Wholly and fully.

Knowing that true redemption meant being forthright with the truth, she complied. The furor among the city’s surviving patriars and rulers upon hearing the explanation had been beyond aghast, beyond contempt. The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate had been the one who had doomed it in the first place. But they kept listening. She described how Bhaal’s compulsion really worked (affirmed by several including Ulder Ravengard who had received access to his son’s entire history of memories with Sofija before the battle). That even before Orin’s attack she had tried to fight but couldn’t. Bhaal had pushed Orin, manipulated her, to try to kill her sister in a fit of jealousy, for her to become the new chosen.

Except she had been put back together again. Had become the very FIRST person infected by the tadpoles, the first victim of her own plan. Her memory had been utterly destroyed and she had been forced to start anew. She had, and with her life her own, had committed everything to stopping what she helped create. She’d met the woman who was now her wife. Led her away from the dark influences of the goddess Shar. Saved numerous people including the city’s presiding Archmage and its’ Grand Duke. Recovered Reithwin Town after a century of loss. Stopped a vampire from trying to ascend to just a step removed from godhood. Stopped the brain, and Gortash.

And then there had been Orin. She had tried everything to convince her sister to turn against Bhaal, but the influence of the God of Murder whispering in her head had been too strong. The compulsion too firm. An entire lifetime of brainwashing made manifest.

And in that moment, with Orin turned into an avatar of pure slaughter, Sofija had struck her sister down. So Bhaal struck her down. She had been saved only through divine intervention, she was sure of it, and from there, had let Selûne’s grace enter into her life. She also held a special reverence for Kelemvor, the reigning Lord of the Dead as well as Jergal, a former holder of the office who was said to still sometimes work in Kelemvor or Ao’s service but refused to elaborate further.

But whereas she had gotten a second chance, free of Bhaal’s lash and yoke, Orin never had. Even though without Orin, Sofija never would have been freed from the God of Murder. Without Orin, Sofija would have never met her future wife; never would have saved Faerûn even after being the one to almost destroy it. Sofija could live with them all thinking she was a monster, but her sister had been a victim – of Bhaal, of Sarevok, of her since the day she was born until the moment she died. Even if it was just a prayer to Selûne and to Kelemvor and to whatever deities were in earshot, THAT was the only thing she wanted for her sister, the only thing she asked in exchange for a half-elf’s remaining lifetime of dedicated service and the deliverance of mercy.

Even when her friends had heard of Sofija’s involvement via Gortash, they’d stuck by her. Even if they had been furious. Irate. Ready to turn away, every single one stuck by her; hells, forgave her. She had been granted two second chances Orin had not. One of escape, one of mercy.

Orin was dead, escape in this life had not been an option. But that still left mercy, of forgiveness.

The Illithid Master Plan horrors and menace, and the Dead Three’s aims, had threatened the whole of cosmology. Mystra had told her former Chosen, Gale Dekarios, as much herself.

So that’s what Sofija wanted. For saving the whole of everything that still was and ever could be within their domains. For the people to acknowledge Orin had been a victim of Bhaal’s cruelty too. For forgiveness. Planted on her own land, where she could come and reflect and pray to the Moonmaiden or anyone else who might be listening.

For others seeking redemption with the strengthened paladin to know exactly how far she was willing to extend that redemption. For one of the gods to take note that Orin had, even under a lifetime of the death grip of Bhaal, still somehow been the one who had truly saved them all, because she had saved Sofija and Sofija had finished the job.

So, the patriars relented. Nearly all of them had been forgiven of some injustice they had visited upon another at some time. Many had just been grateful not to currently be sporting tentacles and an intense craving for brains. The monument stone was built. Sofija, whose strength and build now nearly rivalled even that of the daughter of Selûne herself, Dame Aylin, had left alone with the stone on the day it was completed. Her wife had been dispatched to Reithwin as one of the adult refugees they had aided was due to deliver a baby. As the new life in Reithwin began to cry for the first time in Shadowheart’s arms, Sofija had placed the stone into the ground, having constructed a small frame around it to support its’ weight.

----

In Reithwin, with one final push, a new life had entered this world. Crying and screaming, Shadowheart had prepared a towel and began fussing over the infant while preparing to wash off the most immediate fluids. Another healthy delivery! Nothing gave the Cleric of Selûne greater joy than bringing new life into this world.

A short time later, the baby’s condition had been checked – “You have an incredible new daughter”, Shadowheart had told the parents. The little girl, human like her parents (always be surprised for a surprise tiefling birth, a senior healer had once advised her), had her father's dark eyes and fair complexion, and a shock of light blonde hair atop her head. Curiously, both of her parents had dark hair, although for all she knew a grandparent or two had had lighter hair. Or sometimes the gods like a joke. Any further would be prying.

“Have you picked out a name for your daughter?” Shadowheart asked. Names were often personal, private things. It may be some time, but if parents already had an idea, it was always still easiest to get it recorded while the healers and clerics were present. As Shadowheart talked to the couple, a small idol to Selûne glowed with the faintest of silvery shimmering lights.

----

Days’ walk away, Sofija had begun the process of inserting Orin’s two weapons into the top of the stone. One, a shortsword, Crimson Mischief, had fit perfectly. Sofija quickly applied some of the sealing compound she had been instructed on how to make and use to permanently embed the weapon into the stone. The second weapon, the dagger Bloodthirst, featured a curved blade design and a wide centre circle that had once housed one of the Netherstones, which Orin and her associates had used to control the brain. The second aperture in the stone had featured a wider opening. Tav once more placed the weapon into the rock, twisting and adjusting it’s fit to try to ensure it would stay secure while the sealant was place. Soon too the dagger became part of the rock. Only the two weapons’ pommels would remain above the stone, her sister's cutting blades permanently blunted.

In the meadow, at the edge of the wild forest, Shadowheart’s wife worked diligently to apply a layer of polish and a coating to both clean and protect the stone, which had gotten slightly scuffed in transit, against the elements as well as time. She then took to polishing the protrusions from the now-embedded weapons. Upon cleaning the polish, the Paladin began crying after being once more hit by a wave of grief, followed almost immediately by resolute prayer.

“Moonmaiden, hear me. Kelemvor, God of the Dead, I ask your favour too at the recommendation of your seneschal. Mystra, Lady of Magic, hear my request. Oakfather, may you take this to heart within nature’s bounty. Mielikki, goddess of the forest and of rangers, may you put this prayer to the winds and see that it is answered. As I was forgiven, I ask you now, hear me. Forgive my sister, she who was Orin the Red. Please, I beseech you.

----

The parents of the baby Shadowheart had handed to them had given it thought. The girl’s father had been present the day Sofija had made the request, having come to the city to make a final run for supplies and to fetch Shadowheart, who had already become a renowned healer. The man had in fact been Zhentarim and had only avoided death at Sofija’s own hand due to his having gone out on a date the night before – with a refugee woman no less - and having decided that her company beat a raid of the Thieves’ Guild. He had quickly realized he loved her and had picked that moment as his new “Day 0”. Never again would he be that violent mercenary. If the Gods allow it, never again to his dying breath.

To the point his last words out of town when he left to be with the mother of his child had been asking Sofija to help grant him redemption and to be the best patriarch of his new family he could be. She had rushed over to him and granted it, willingly, a white glow even briefly enveloping him as both Sofija and Shadowheart had then offered a spell for protection on the way out.

“Tell your wife, we’re going to name our girl after her sister.” The girl’s father had noted, Shadowheart’s eyes threatening to redden with tears. “She’s right, every name deserves a second chance. Tell her we’ve named our daughter Orin. May THIS Orin know love, all her life.

Shadowheart could have almost sworn she had heard a book close with a start. The healer and cleric embraced them both, clearly moved profoundly at the gesture.

--------------

Sofija looked upon the completed monument. Upon the stone, running across nearly it's entire vertical and horizonal legnths were a series of small markings condensed to fit into the space. An epitaph. A prayer. A request.

Orin, My Sister 1469 - 1492 May you know true peace in the life ahead; May my goddess claim you as her own. Without you, I would have nothing. As in your pain, I was born anew, May the light of the Moonmaiden Shine upon the one who saved me, and grant her a second chance. With love. Sofija.

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