Welcome to Baldur’s Gate, a veritable nest of rats and vipers clinging to the rocky slopes overlooking the Chionthar River. From their high perches in the Upper City, the local nobles — known as patriarchs — gaze down with veiled contempt upon the common rabble in the grimy Lower City, which hugs the foggy harbor. The whole of Baldur’s Gate reeks of blood, crime, and opportunity. One can easily fathom why pirates and traders are drawn to this place like flies to a carcass.
Following the river farther east would eventually lead you to Elturel, capital of the holy land of Elturgard — or at least that was the case until a few days ago. The flood of refugees from Elturel has gotten worse since news first arrived that the city has fallen. Everyone is saying Baldur’s Gate is next, but no one truly knows who or what has claimed Elturel.
The patriarchs pay a mercenary army called the Flaming Fist to protect their interests in Baldur’s Gate, and by extension, the city itself. The Flaming Fist has gained even more power since their charismatic leader, Ulder Ravengard, claimed the title of Grand Duke a few years ago. Apparently, Ravengard is missing. In his absence, the Flaming Fist has sealed the city’s gates to staunch the flow of refugees. No one is allowed in or out.
All of this was brought to your attention shortly after you were drafted by the Flaming Fist to help defend the city. Your orders are to speak to Captain Zodge at the Basilisk Gate, which pierces the city’s eastern wall and takes its name from the various statues that rest in its niches and perch atop its battlements. Unseen beyond the sealed Basilisk Gate, a dirt road stretches through the Outer City slums to the bridge known as Wyrm’s Crossing, then to distant realms beyond.
Dozens of Flaming Fist soldiers are trying to control an angry mob of commoners eager to leave the city. Armed with only a vague description of Captain Zodge — a tall man with long black hair and a leather eye patch — it takes you a while to find him. A fight breaks out between soldiers and commoners, and you finally spot the one-eyed captain as he wades into the fray and begins throwing punches. Just another day in the City of Blood.
A leather clad, nondescript clothed, red headed halfling sits on the top of a barrel eating an apple. He watches Captain Zodge start throwing punches and raises an eyebrow in mild amusement.
Being drafted into the Flaming Fist wouldn't have been the halfling's first choice but he could see there could be advantages.
He scans the crowd for anyone who looks like they might actually have money, someone who might have gotten caught in the mob of commoners on their way somewhere else. If he catches sight of such a lucrative mark, the halfling hops down off the barrel and makes his way towards this individual, still eating his apple, and dodging under the general melee and fistcuffs occurring at big person head height. A broad smile stays on his face the entire time he maneuvers his way through the mob.
He does his best not to lose sight of Captain Zodge as he does so. If needed he will stretch up to his full 3' 2" height, brush the unruly mop of red hair back from his freckled face to better see.
"Need to remember orders," the halfling says to himself. "Speak to Captain Zodge."
((Will have more if such a 'moneyed' member of the mob is present))
After ducking through legs and under arms and fists, the halfling comes to the conclusion that there's no one with money in his mob. These are commoners through and through and they're just trying to get out of the city.
"Well as my mother always says, when one door shuts," the halfling begins, talking happily to himself, then adds "Reed Underbough you better not be opening a window to sneak out and create your own opportunities."
The halfling, Reed Underbough, changes course and makes his way to the group of Flaming First near Zodge at the Basilisk Gate. He watches for a moment before noticing the Flaming Fists are taking, and pocketing bribes from the commoners and letting those out who pay.
"That window's too hard to ignore, mum," Reed says to himself again.
He struts up to the Flaming Fist farthest from Captain Zodge and salutes.
"Reed Underbough reporting for duty," Reed shouts, the smile on his lips encompassing his whole face. He points over at Zodge. "Just need a word with the captain after he finishes knocking heads."
He looks back at the mob then back to the Flaming Fist he's talking to.
"I'm more than happy to help here," and he finds some space in the wall the Flaming Fist are making to keep the commoners out.
Assuming they let him stay there, Reed then scans the crowd, primarily for little people like himself, and waves any over to discuss exit terms.
But while he looks like that's what he's doing, he will take advantage of the general chaos to let his hand slip accidentally on purpose into the pouch or pocket of his neighboring Flaming Fist member to see what he can help himself too.
To say the streets are crowded is an understatement. A vast understatement. And when you're two feet tall and the biggest thing about your person is the possum you're riding on, you can't take chances of being trampled while amongst the common rabble. So what do you do? Why, you let your possum clamber across the tops of tables and barrels, walls and wagons of course.
Of course it's the fight that catches Roo' Stor's attention. One moment there are the greedy carnivores yelling and screaming back and forth at one another, and the next they're hitting each other and appear to be having a dandy time. Roo' reins up his possum as he watches this civil squabble.
"Ah, we weren't even looking for a good scrap when we found this one!" He says excitedly, watching the fracas with eager bemusement. He bounces in the simple wicker saddle, clearly ready to come unmounted and join the fray at any moment. "Oh, oh! That fellow we have to palaver with...what was his name? Captain...Zoj? Zoge? Doge? Oh! He must be here, he must be. How exciting! Well, how was he described again? Tall? With red hair? Or was it black hair? Hmm."
This is not an adequate description when everyone is taller than you are. He sees the red haired Halfling and rides up.
"Yes, you! You are quite the competent looking professional, yes! Are you by chance the infamous Captain Doge? I was sent to find him! We must palaver immediately!"
Reed tilts his head down somewhat to take in the rooster-like bird who is addressing hm. Reed shifts his body slightly to try and cover up that one of his hands is actively poking around in the pouch of the Flaming Fist mercenary next to him.
”Ahoy friend. Reed Underbough at your service. The captain you seek is the one over showing these commoners the literal strong arm of the law. Are you perhaps seeking to negotiate passage out of the city?”
A figure in a green cloak makes his way to Basilisk Gate. He uses his makeshift Glaive as a walking stick. He's not as young as he used to be, but he's not that old yet either! Wilfred gets to the Gate just as the ruckus starts.
He stares disappointedly as the Flaming Fist begin attacking the common folk. Maybe this was a mistake. Look, they are even taking there hard earned money. Maybe he could have ignored the summons from the Flaming Fist. But no, he's doing this for his family. For..... Was that a rooster in armor riding a possum? "Well, golly. Would you look at that."
Curiosity getting the best of him, Wilfred heads toward the rooster. He hears what the little fella says (Amazing, was not expecting it to talk) to the halfling gent. Wilfred interject. "Why, hello there. Did you perhaps mean Captain Zodge? I believe he is the one over there, punching some defenseless people in the face. The one with the eyepatch. So, are you two some new recruits as well? I hope they aren't planning on having us fight the common folk like some street thugs. Sorry, where are my manners. The names Wilfred, nice to meetcha. You can call me Wilfred, or Wil, or Fred, just don't call me late for dinner! I kid, I kid. " Wilfred will extend his hand for a handshake from each in turn.
A slender elf in a black cloak covering a chain shirt carries a plain shield, stained black and seems to be making his way through the mayhem, stepping aside and dodging when necessary, going slower, then faster when needed. He seems agile on his feet to an outside observer, pushing people away with a shove of his shield when needed, dodging when needed, but letting none deter him on his path. His eyes are set on the human with long black hair like his, the one wearing the eyepatch. Virro wears black gloves and boots and despite the warm day and tumultuous crowd, he is not sweating. His face is passive, blank. He seems to be moving with a singular purpose, when he sees… a rooster riding a possum? What in the nine hells is that? He thinks to himself. He sees them discussing, pointing in the direction of Captain Zodge, so he takes a detour, this he can’t pass up.
He gets closer and overhears the one known as Wilfred introduce himself, and he listens to the bits of conversation that he can hear over the din of the crowd. “Hello.” says a gravely voice that hasn’t spoken much today. “*Ugh hem*. Hello. There it is. Are you seeking Captain Zodge? Perhaps we can make a wedge and get through to him. I’m new with the Flaming Fists. Virro, s’ my name.” He pauses, looking at the Rooster, one corner of his mouth rises, just slightly. You can see on his shield that he’s tried to draw a fist and flame around it, but apparently he got disgusted with his attempt and he’s colored it out, stained it all black. “Ready to have a go at it? We can work together to get there…if you want…”. He looks each of you in the eye with as friendly of a face as he can muster, almost, but not quite smiling.
Reed shifts his gaze from the bird riding the possum to the big human with the glaive.
"Recruits? Is that what they're calling us?" Reed asks. "Well, why not? I suppose being told to show up or else is a form of recruiting."
While keeping his busy hand busy, Reed uses his other to reach up to take the proffered hand and gives it an equally hearty shake back.
When the jest about not calling the big man late for dinner hits his ears, Reed laughs loudly.
"Late for dinner, ha?" Reed says, his smile still beaming. "I'm Reed Underbough."
He's about to say more, and is part way into an awkward bow when the very, very black and somber elf arrives. Reed takes a very long look at the shield and the paint job.
"It's a talking rooster on a possum," Reed says without missing a beat, indicating Roo' Stor.
Reed nods at the black shield, nodding being all he can do as he has one hand reaching up high into the pouch of the Flaming Fist mercenary and his other hand reaching up high to shake Wil Fred's hand.
"You like black then?" Reed asks but then continues on quickly. "Sure, sure, we can make our way over to the captain there, just let me wrap up here."
The noisy din of the crowd of commoners is enough to drown out the sound of a roaring fire, but it isn't enough to quell the tell tale smoke stack pouring out of the top of an animated suit of armour which makes its way toward the front where the fighting is breaking out, as she gets to the front, The Ironmaidenattempts to deliver a healthy smack right to the face of captain Zodge (14 to hit, 3 damage)
He and those around Zodge would see the slotted visor of the suit flare with nothing behind it but flame, the infamous Ironmaiden, the stories of whom started a few months ago as a fighter of the night and a vigilante of the people despite being merely a suit of armour fuelled only by an unquenchable flame.
Into the vicinity of the Basilisk Gate walks a very nervous looking young male Teifling, with slightly tan skin and horns which sweep back across his head and curl above his medium length brown hair. He has a well groomed circle beard and long goatee, but his clothes are those of a commoner, a plain tunic and trousers. But what really stands out is how uncomfortable he looks to any who observe him. He shifts uncomfortably at the weight of a light crossbow that is strung across his back, and he eyes the crowd nervously as he walks a short distance away from the perimeter of the fight.
His parents had been right, this was no place for him, but he had returned to find the city in disarray and he wanted to do something about it. Right now joining the Flaming Fists seemed entirely the wrong course of action. He should have appealed to the patriarchs, in fact he would have if he had any chance of seeing them. But their presence is not for the likes of him, one who grew up in the poorer parts of the city.
He sees a halfling hop down from barrel, and wonders if that was a good place to stand and address the chaos that was about to ensue, that was ensuing. He shakes his head, that wouldn't do, not high enough and too exposed. He looks around some more, spotting a wagon, a much better choice. As he makes his way over to it, he does a bit of a double take as a rooster riding a possum scurries across it, heading to the gate itself. His attention is soon taken away though, as the fracas grows and the crowd gets noisier, the Flaming Fists now engaging the commoners with literal fists.
He deftly climbs on top of the wagon, and stands atop some bags of apples. He briefly wonders whether this was where the halfling he saw on that barrel got his apple from.
He looks over the crowd, seeing Captain Zodge strike a commoner, and in turn get hit by what appeared to be a flaming suit of armour. He once again wonders what possessed him to do this.
"Excuse me", he says a bit timidly, trying to get the attention of the crowd. He was nervous. It wasn't the number of people, it was the disorder. It put him off his stride. He takes a deep breath in, once again adjusts the uncomfortable crossbow on his back and tries again, this time lending some magical volume to his voice.
"Excuse me!", he shouts, startling even himself a little, but grows in confidence a little as he continues. "People of Baldur's Gate, defenders of the Flaming of Fist. You must stop fighting amongst yourselves. I know these are uncertain times, but we must maintain order. If you wish to leave the city, then the Flaming Fists will help if you just remain calm. Flaming Fists, these people are scared, you must be lenient with them. I am Corlith Krell, and as of today I have joined the ranks of the Flaming Fist, to be a voice of the common person. And I promise, if everyone just stands down, we can resolve this".
With his speech over, he looks on nervously to see how the crowd will react.
Virro nods to Reed and says “Yeah, I do. Seem to be surrounded by black at my job…at more former job.” He corrects himself. He looks over when the booming voice calls out over the crowd, murmuring to himself “Well, that’s one way to do it…” He turns back to Reed and the others gathered, saying “Ready then? Look, that guy in a suit of armor just punched Zodge! I’ve heard of someone who looks like that… some story I heard recently… tip of my tongue… Is that, is that the Ironmaiden? We better get down there.”
As Reed stealthily reaches his hand into the nearest Flaming Fists, he finds that it is indeed lined with an abundance of gold coins. But before he can help himself to any of it, a large hand grasps his wrist. “What the deuce?! What is this half wits hands doing in my pocket?” The man has long greasy black hair with shrewd little eyes and a crooked nose. Skeleton thin, he wears the uniform of the Flaming Fist soldiers as do the dozens of others that are gathered at the Basilisk Gate.
He glares at Reed and then continues his look down his long nose at Roo’Stor, Wilfred and Virro. Noticing that they are all looking at the Captain, he comes to a conclusion, “You four, come with me.” He gives the rooster an extra long look, but shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. And without letting go of Reeds wrist, he turns and half drags the halfling with him with three of you behind.
As the animated suit of armor takes a swing at the Captain as he is working to establish order, he quickly side steps and turns to glare at whatever dared attack him. “Bloody Hells! Who has the balls to attack… ah, so here you are in the uh, flesh as they say. I think you’re a bit turned around, you are to be working for me, not trying to hit me. And at least be better at it next time.” He brushes the long black hair out of his good eye and tries to peer in through the flame. As he does, the one with the other four appears at his side.
“Captain sir, I caught this one trying to steal from me and the others were staring you down. What would you like me to do with them, sir?” He finally lets go of Reed’s wrist after a painful squeeze.
Captain’s eyes brighten as he lays them on the four of you, “Ah yes! My new recruits, thank you Issio, that’ll be all. Well let’s see who we have here, oh wait, I thought I was getting six? Where’s the..” and at that point the tiefling orrates his speech. “Flaming Fist will help you leave the city? Be lenient? Where’d he get such nonsense”he mutters under his breath. “Wait, Issio, go get that damn tiefling before he hurts himself. Man, tieflings are nothing but trouble.”and then he lays his eyes on the rooster and raises an eyebrow.
Issio makes his way to the apple cart as Corlith finishes his speech and yells up to him, “You there! Get down from the wagon and stop making a fool of yourself, Captain wants to see you.”
Once everyone is around the Captain, he ignores the fighting behind him and raises his voice a bit to make sure the six of you hear him. “The refugee crisis has stoked fears that Baldur’s Gate might suffer the same fate as Elturel, of which nothing remains but a hole in the ground, apparently. Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not.” he pauses to let that sink in, looking at each of you in turn.
“The knights of Elturgard call themselves Hellriders. A few of them escaped the destruction and think we’re somehow to blame for Elturel’s downfall. What a bunch of self-righteous rabble-rousers! We’re arresting them on sight, but that’s left us shorthanded to deal with another problem. For that, I need your help.”
Wilfred watches as Reed gets caught with his fingers in the honeypot. He doesn't resist as the guard rounds them up, he knows that most of the Flaming Fist have a short fuse. As they are escorted over he whispers to Read "Chin up, better luck next time."
On the way over, he sees what he assumes must be this Ironmaiden that the people are talking about. As the armor takes a swing at the captain, he lets out a laugh that he hurriedly disguises as a cough. "Baha..cough cough. Golly, it sure is dusty here." Wilfred hangs toward the back as they are introduced to the Captain.
As Corlith finishes up his speech, Wilfred will shout out "THAT HORNY FELLA IS RIGHT! We should all calm down. No sense in fighting right now!"
Wilfred will list to the captain talk. He didn't really care about the politics of it all, that's not why he was here. "What is this problem?"
After the Captain dodges The Ironmaiden's attack they stop questioningly at his utterances of them being one of his recruits, Ironmaiden stops and claps their hands together once, then showing the captain the inside of their palm where the word 'Zodge?' has magically appeared.
Once that is cleared up there is a very awkward silence from Ironmaiden as it appears they don't like this situation at all, or the people from the flaming fists for that matter. They look around the other new recruits, not sure what they've got themselves into. The heat that radiates naturally from the seemingly continually burning suit makes it uncomfortable to be too close to them, though they don't seem to be aware of that fact at all.
Not flinching at the violence going on around them, but looking with a face of pure curiosity at Zodge, Virro says “Help? Everyone needs help. What do you need Captain Zodge? How can we help you?” Virro holds his gloved hand up in a fist, then he makes a half salute, then he stands at ease, not really knowing how to behave as a new recruit, but standing at his version of attention. With a slouch.
Reed smiles into the face of the angry Flaming Fist guard as he’s led over to the captain. Throughout that exchange and the subsequent handover to Captain Zodge, Reed keeps his fist closed around whatever coins he was able to extract from the man’s pocket.
He winks at Wilfred when he wishes him better luck next time. Reed’s not sure what it is about this man. Definitely not the size nor the lethal glaive he carries, but something reminds Reed of his own father.
After the captain addresses them Reed gives him a salute and waves goodbye to the guardsman he just got closely acquainted with.
He eyes the violent walking suit of armor with amusement and reaches over with a free hand to see how warm the metal really is.
When /if the captain answers the questions the other newcomers have made, Reed will finally check his hand to see what he was able to come away with.
Reed smiles to himself as he weighs what’s in his hand without opening it.
”i could do quite nicely here, fleecing the fleecers, mum,” Reed says quietly to himself.
But then he looks around the crowd of commoners, looking for any halflings that might be trying to escape the city.
If he can reach any nearby, he will give away half of what he liberated so that they can use it to bribe their way out of the city. Giving all of it away would just be silly.
Corlith surveys the crowd feeling a little disappointed that he didn't get more of a reaction beyond a strange man referring to him as horny. Not only was it a little offensive, but he had just said his name. He made a point of explaining it to the gentleman if he got the chance.
At that point the guard calls him down. First he was labelled horny, now a fool. The latter he struggled to argue against.
He deftly jumps down off the wagon, "Well, if the Captain wants to see me, I must have made an impression, lead on".
As he listens to the Captain speak, his eyes flick to the others that seem to have been called over. The halfling from the barrel, the chicken that was clambering over the wagon on it's possum, the flaming suit of armour, the one who called him horny and a sombre looking elf. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.
As he waits for the captain to explain the help he required, he leans across to Wilfred and quietly says, "If you have to identify me by my horns I prefer horned, not horny. Better still just call me Corlith".
Corlith surveys the crowd feeling a little disappointed that he didn't get more of a reaction beyond a strange man referring to him as horny. Not only was it a little offensive, but he had just said his name. He made a point of explaining it to the gentleman if he got the chance.
At that point the guard calls him down. First he was labelled horny, now a fool. The latter he struggled to argue against.
He deftly jumps down off the wagon, "Well, if the Captain wants to see me, I must have made an impression, lead on".
As he listens to the Captain speak, his eyes flick to the others that seem to have been called over. The halfling from the barrel, the chicken that was clambering over the wagon on it's possum, the flaming suit of armour, the one who called him horny and a sombre looking elf. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.
As he waits for the captain to explain the help he required, he leans across to Wilfred and quietly says, "If you have to identify me by my horns I prefer horned, not horny. Better still just call me Corlith".
Wilfred nods to Corlith and responds. (He is not being quiet) "Hey, sorry there, champ, I mean Corlith. I didn't mean to offend. I don't really know the difference between horny and horned, but whatever float's your boat. The names Wilfred. Put 'er there!" He extends his hand for a handshake.
Wilfred looks around at the 5 others gathered here. So many young people, so eager to join the Flame Fist. Poor misguided youths. Hopefully they will keep the rose colored glasses on and help the common folk, but time will tell.
Hearing no objections, the Captain continues, “Baldur’s Gate has long been plagued by followers of the Dead Three — the gods Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul. I thought we had wiped them out, but apparently not. These purveyors of fear and death are taking advantage of the current crisis to commit murder sprees throughout the city. Obviously, this will not do.” He reaches into a pouch strapped to his side and produces six Flaming Fists badges, giving one to each of you.
“As my appointed deputies in this matter, you’ll have license to kill these wretches on sight. Find their lair, and wipe it out. Eliminate anyone who gets in your way, and don’t worry about collateral damage.” He pauses for a second, then continues on..
“If you do what I say, I’ll see that you each receive two hundred gold pieces in addition to my gratitude, which is worth considerably more.
“A few blocks from the Basilisk Gate is Elfsong Tavern. A spy named Tarina hangs out there, gathering rumors for the Guild. She owes me a favor, so tell her you work for me. Ask her what she knows about the Dead Three. And, for the love of Balduran, be nice. Tarina has dangerous friends.”
CHAPTER 1: A TALE OF TWO CITIES
Welcome to Baldur’s Gate, a veritable nest of rats and vipers clinging to the rocky slopes overlooking the Chionthar River. From their high perches in the Upper City, the local nobles — known as patriarchs — gaze down with veiled contempt upon the common rabble in the grimy Lower City, which hugs the foggy harbor. The whole of Baldur’s Gate reeks of blood, crime, and opportunity. One can easily fathom why pirates and traders are drawn to this place like flies to a carcass.
Following the river farther east would eventually lead you to Elturel, capital of the holy land of Elturgard — or at least that was the case until a few days ago. The flood of refugees from Elturel has gotten worse since news first arrived that the city has fallen. Everyone is saying Baldur’s Gate is next, but no one truly knows who or what has claimed Elturel.
The patriarchs pay a mercenary army called the Flaming Fist to protect their interests in Baldur’s Gate, and by extension, the city itself. The Flaming Fist has gained even more power since their charismatic leader, Ulder Ravengard, claimed the title of Grand Duke a few years ago. Apparently, Ravengard is missing. In his absence, the Flaming Fist has sealed the city’s gates to staunch the flow of refugees. No one is allowed in or out.
All of this was brought to your attention shortly after you were drafted by the Flaming Fist to help defend the city. Your orders are to speak to Captain Zodge at the Basilisk Gate, which pierces the city’s eastern wall and takes its name from the various statues that rest in its niches and perch atop its battlements. Unseen beyond the sealed Basilisk Gate, a dirt road stretches through the Outer City slums to the bridge known as Wyrm’s Crossing, then to distant realms beyond.
Dozens of Flaming Fist soldiers are trying to control an angry mob of commoners eager to leave the city. Armed with only a vague description of Captain Zodge — a tall man with long black hair and a leather eye patch — it takes you a while to find him. A fight breaks out between soldiers and commoners, and you finally spot the one-eyed captain as he wades into the fray and begins throwing punches. Just another day in the City of Blood.
A leather clad, nondescript clothed, red headed halfling sits on the top of a barrel eating an apple. He watches Captain Zodge start throwing punches and raises an eyebrow in mild amusement.
Being drafted into the Flaming Fist wouldn't have been the halfling's first choice but he could see there could be advantages.
He scans the crowd for anyone who looks like they might actually have money, someone who might have gotten caught in the mob of commoners on their way somewhere else. If he catches sight of such a lucrative mark, the halfling hops down off the barrel and makes his way towards this individual, still eating his apple, and dodging under the general melee and fistcuffs occurring at big person head height. A broad smile stays on his face the entire time he maneuvers his way through the mob.
He does his best not to lose sight of Captain Zodge as he does so. If needed he will stretch up to his full 3' 2" height, brush the unruly mop of red hair back from his freckled face to better see.
"Need to remember orders," the halfling says to himself. "Speak to Captain Zodge."
((Will have more if such a 'moneyed' member of the mob is present))
After ducking through legs and under arms and fists, the halfling comes to the conclusion that there's no one with money in his mob. These are commoners through and through and they're just trying to get out of the city.
"Well as my mother always says, when one door shuts," the halfling begins, talking happily to himself, then adds "Reed Underbough you better not be opening a window to sneak out and create your own opportunities."
The halfling, Reed Underbough, changes course and makes his way to the group of Flaming First near Zodge at the Basilisk Gate. He watches for a moment before noticing the Flaming Fists are taking, and pocketing bribes from the commoners and letting those out who pay.
"That window's too hard to ignore, mum," Reed says to himself again.
He struts up to the Flaming Fist farthest from Captain Zodge and salutes.
"Reed Underbough reporting for duty," Reed shouts, the smile on his lips encompassing his whole face. He points over at Zodge. "Just need a word with the captain after he finishes knocking heads."
He looks back at the mob then back to the Flaming Fist he's talking to.
"I'm more than happy to help here," and he finds some space in the wall the Flaming Fist are making to keep the commoners out.
Assuming they let him stay there, Reed then scans the crowd, primarily for little people like himself, and waves any over to discuss exit terms.
But while he looks like that's what he's doing, he will take advantage of the general chaos to let his hand slip accidentally on purpose into the pouch or pocket of his neighboring Flaming Fist member to see what he can help himself too.
To say the streets are crowded is an understatement. A vast understatement. And when you're two feet tall and the biggest thing about your person is the possum you're riding on, you can't take chances of being trampled while amongst the common rabble. So what do you do? Why, you let your possum clamber across the tops of tables and barrels, walls and wagons of course.
Of course it's the fight that catches Roo' Stor's attention. One moment there are the greedy carnivores yelling and screaming back and forth at one another, and the next they're hitting each other and appear to be having a dandy time. Roo' reins up his possum as he watches this civil squabble.
"Ah, we weren't even looking for a good scrap when we found this one!" He says excitedly, watching the fracas with eager bemusement. He bounces in the simple wicker saddle, clearly ready to come unmounted and join the fray at any moment. "Oh, oh! That fellow we have to palaver with...what was his name? Captain...Zoj? Zoge? Doge? Oh! He must be here, he must be. How exciting! Well, how was he described again? Tall? With red hair? Or was it black hair? Hmm."
This is not an adequate description when everyone is taller than you are. He sees the red haired Halfling and rides up.
"Yes, you! You are quite the competent looking professional, yes! Are you by chance the infamous Captain Doge? I was sent to find him! We must palaver immediately!"
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Reed tilts his head down somewhat to take in the rooster-like bird who is addressing hm. Reed shifts his body slightly to try and cover up that one of his hands is actively poking around in the pouch of the Flaming Fist mercenary next to him.
”Ahoy friend. Reed Underbough at your service. The captain you seek is the one over showing these commoners the literal strong arm of the law. Are you perhaps seeking to negotiate passage out of the city?”
A figure in a green cloak makes his way to Basilisk Gate. He uses his makeshift Glaive as a walking stick. He's not as young as he used to be, but he's not that old yet either! Wilfred gets to the Gate just as the ruckus starts.
He stares disappointedly as the Flaming Fist begin attacking the common folk. Maybe this was a mistake. Look, they are even taking there hard earned money. Maybe he could have ignored the summons from the Flaming Fist. But no, he's doing this for his family. For..... Was that a rooster in armor riding a possum? "Well, golly. Would you look at that."
Curiosity getting the best of him, Wilfred heads toward the rooster. He hears what the little fella says (Amazing, was not expecting it to talk) to the halfling gent. Wilfred interject. "Why, hello there. Did you perhaps mean Captain Zodge? I believe he is the one over there, punching some defenseless people in the face. The one with the eyepatch. So, are you two some new recruits as well? I hope they aren't planning on having us fight the common folk like some street thugs. Sorry, where are my manners. The names Wilfred, nice to meetcha. You can call me Wilfred, or Wil, or Fred, just don't call me late for dinner! I kid, I kid. " Wilfred will extend his hand for a handshake from each in turn.
A slender elf in a black cloak covering a chain shirt carries a plain shield, stained black and seems to be making his way through the mayhem, stepping aside and dodging when necessary, going slower, then faster when needed. He seems agile on his feet to an outside observer, pushing people away with a shove of his shield when needed, dodging when needed, but letting none deter him on his path. His eyes are set on the human with long black hair like his, the one wearing the eyepatch. Virro wears black gloves and boots and despite the warm day and tumultuous crowd, he is not sweating. His face is passive, blank. He seems to be moving with a singular purpose, when he sees… a rooster riding a possum? What in the nine hells is that? He thinks to himself. He sees them discussing, pointing in the direction of Captain Zodge, so he takes a detour, this he can’t pass up.
He gets closer and overhears the one known as Wilfred introduce himself, and he listens to the bits of conversation that he can hear over the din of the crowd. “Hello.” says a gravely voice that hasn’t spoken much today. “*Ugh hem*. Hello. There it is. Are you seeking Captain Zodge? Perhaps we can make a wedge and get through to him. I’m new with the Flaming Fists. Virro, s’ my name.” He pauses, looking at the Rooster, one corner of his mouth rises, just slightly. You can see on his shield that he’s tried to draw a fist and flame around it, but apparently he got disgusted with his attempt and he’s colored it out, stained it all black. “Ready to have a go at it? We can work together to get there…if you want…”. He looks each of you in the eye with as friendly of a face as he can muster, almost, but not quite smiling.
Reed shifts his gaze from the bird riding the possum to the big human with the glaive.
"Recruits? Is that what they're calling us?" Reed asks. "Well, why not? I suppose being told to show up or else is a form of recruiting."
While keeping his busy hand busy, Reed uses his other to reach up to take the proffered hand and gives it an equally hearty shake back.
When the jest about not calling the big man late for dinner hits his ears, Reed laughs loudly.
"Late for dinner, ha?" Reed says, his smile still beaming. "I'm Reed Underbough."
He's about to say more, and is part way into an awkward bow when the very, very black and somber elf arrives. Reed takes a very long look at the shield and the paint job.
"It's a talking rooster on a possum," Reed says without missing a beat, indicating Roo' Stor.
Reed nods at the black shield, nodding being all he can do as he has one hand reaching up high into the pouch of the Flaming Fist mercenary and his other hand reaching up high to shake Wil Fred's hand.
"You like black then?" Reed asks but then continues on quickly. "Sure, sure, we can make our way over to the captain there, just let me wrap up here."
The noisy din of the crowd of commoners is enough to drown out the sound of a roaring fire, but it isn't enough to quell the tell tale smoke stack pouring out of the top of an animated suit of armour which makes its way toward the front where the fighting is breaking out, as she gets to the front, The Ironmaidenattempts to deliver a healthy smack right to the face of captain Zodge (14 to hit, 3 damage)
He and those around Zodge would see the slotted visor of the suit flare with nothing behind it but flame, the infamous Ironmaiden, the stories of whom started a few months ago as a fighter of the night and a vigilante of the people despite being merely a suit of armour fuelled only by an unquenchable flame.
Into the vicinity of the Basilisk Gate walks a very nervous looking young male Teifling, with slightly tan skin and horns which sweep back across his head and curl above his medium length brown hair. He has a well groomed circle beard and long goatee, but his clothes are those of a commoner, a plain tunic and trousers. But what really stands out is how uncomfortable he looks to any who observe him. He shifts uncomfortably at the weight of a light crossbow that is strung across his back, and he eyes the crowd nervously as he walks a short distance away from the perimeter of the fight.
His parents had been right, this was no place for him, but he had returned to find the city in disarray and he wanted to do something about it. Right now joining the Flaming Fists seemed entirely the wrong course of action. He should have appealed to the patriarchs, in fact he would have if he had any chance of seeing them. But their presence is not for the likes of him, one who grew up in the poorer parts of the city.
He sees a halfling hop down from barrel, and wonders if that was a good place to stand and address the chaos that was about to ensue, that was ensuing. He shakes his head, that wouldn't do, not high enough and too exposed. He looks around some more, spotting a wagon, a much better choice. As he makes his way over to it, he does a bit of a double take as a rooster riding a possum scurries across it, heading to the gate itself. His attention is soon taken away though, as the fracas grows and the crowd gets noisier, the Flaming Fists now engaging the commoners with literal fists.
He deftly climbs on top of the wagon, and stands atop some bags of apples. He briefly wonders whether this was where the halfling he saw on that barrel got his apple from.
He looks over the crowd, seeing Captain Zodge strike a commoner, and in turn get hit by what appeared to be a flaming suit of armour. He once again wonders what possessed him to do this.
"Excuse me", he says a bit timidly, trying to get the attention of the crowd. He was nervous. It wasn't the number of people, it was the disorder. It put him off his stride. He takes a deep breath in, once again adjusts the uncomfortable crossbow on his back and tries again, this time lending some magical volume to his voice.
"Excuse me!", he shouts, startling even himself a little, but grows in confidence a little as he continues. "People of Baldur's Gate, defenders of the Flaming of Fist. You must stop fighting amongst yourselves. I know these are uncertain times, but we must maintain order. If you wish to leave the city, then the Flaming Fists will help if you just remain calm. Flaming Fists, these people are scared, you must be lenient with them. I am Corlith Krell, and as of today I have joined the ranks of the Flaming Fist, to be a voice of the common person. And I promise, if everyone just stands down, we can resolve this".
With his speech over, he looks on nervously to see how the crowd will react.
Persuasion: 4+7=11
Virro nods to Reed and says “Yeah, I do. Seem to be surrounded by black at my job…at more former job.” He corrects himself. He looks over when the booming voice calls out over the crowd, murmuring to himself “Well, that’s one way to do it…” He turns back to Reed and the others gathered, saying “Ready then? Look, that guy in a suit of armor just punched Zodge! I’ve heard of someone who looks like that… some story I heard recently… tip of my tongue… Is that, is that the Ironmaiden? We better get down there.”
As Reed stealthily reaches his hand into the nearest Flaming Fists, he finds that it is indeed lined with an abundance of gold coins. But before he can help himself to any of it, a large hand grasps his wrist. “What the deuce?! What is this half wits hands doing in my pocket?” The man has long greasy black hair with shrewd little eyes and a crooked nose. Skeleton thin, he wears the uniform of the Flaming Fist soldiers as do the dozens of others that are gathered at the Basilisk Gate.
He glares at Reed and then continues his look down his long nose at Roo’Stor, Wilfred and Virro. Noticing that they are all looking at the Captain, he comes to a conclusion, “You four, come with me.” He gives the rooster an extra long look, but shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. And without letting go of Reeds wrist, he turns and half drags the halfling with him with three of you behind.
As the animated suit of armor takes a swing at the Captain as he is working to establish order, he quickly side steps and turns to glare at whatever dared attack him. “Bloody Hells! Who has the balls to attack… ah, so here you are in the uh, flesh as they say. I think you’re a bit turned around, you are to be working for me, not trying to hit me. And at least be better at it next time.” He brushes the long black hair out of his good eye and tries to peer in through the flame. As he does, the one with the other four appears at his side.
“Captain sir, I caught this one trying to steal from me and the others were staring you down. What would you like me to do with them, sir?” He finally lets go of Reed’s wrist after a painful squeeze.
Captain’s eyes brighten as he lays them on the four of you, “Ah yes! My new recruits, thank you Issio, that’ll be all. Well let’s see who we have here, oh wait, I thought I was getting six? Where’s the..” and at that point the tiefling orrates his speech. “Flaming Fist will help you leave the city? Be lenient? Where’d he get such nonsense” he mutters under his breath. “Wait, Issio, go get that damn tiefling before he hurts himself. Man, tieflings are nothing but trouble.” and then he lays his eyes on the rooster and raises an eyebrow.
Issio makes his way to the apple cart as Corlith finishes his speech and yells up to him, “You there! Get down from the wagon and stop making a fool of yourself, Captain wants to see you.”
Once everyone is around the Captain, he ignores the fighting behind him and raises his voice a bit to make sure the six of you hear him. “The refugee crisis has stoked fears that Baldur’s Gate might suffer the same fate as Elturel, of which nothing remains but a hole in the ground, apparently. Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not.” he pauses to let that sink in, looking at each of you in turn.
“The knights of Elturgard call themselves Hellriders. A few of them escaped the destruction and think we’re somehow to blame for Elturel’s downfall. What a bunch of self-righteous rabble-rousers! We’re arresting them on sight, but that’s left us shorthanded to deal with another problem. For that, I need your help.”
Wilfred watches as Reed gets caught with his fingers in the honeypot. He doesn't resist as the guard rounds them up, he knows that most of the Flaming Fist have a short fuse. As they are escorted over he whispers to Read "Chin up, better luck next time."
On the way over, he sees what he assumes must be this Ironmaiden that the people are talking about. As the armor takes a swing at the captain, he lets out a laugh that he hurriedly disguises as a cough. "Baha..cough cough. Golly, it sure is dusty here." Wilfred hangs toward the back as they are introduced to the Captain.
As Corlith finishes up his speech, Wilfred will shout out "THAT HORNY FELLA IS RIGHT! We should all calm down. No sense in fighting right now!"
Wilfred will list to the captain talk. He didn't really care about the politics of it all, that's not why he was here. "What is this problem?"
After the Captain dodges The Ironmaiden's attack they stop questioningly at his utterances of them being one of his recruits, Ironmaiden stops and claps their hands together once, then showing the captain the inside of their palm where the word 'Zodge?' has magically appeared.
Once that is cleared up there is a very awkward silence from Ironmaiden as it appears they don't like this situation at all, or the people from the flaming fists for that matter. They look around the other new recruits, not sure what they've got themselves into. The heat that radiates naturally from the seemingly continually burning suit makes it uncomfortable to be too close to them, though they don't seem to be aware of that fact at all.
Not flinching at the violence going on around them, but looking with a face of pure curiosity at Zodge, Virro says “Help? Everyone needs help. What do you need Captain Zodge? How can we help you?” Virro holds his gloved hand up in a fist, then he makes a half salute, then he stands at ease, not really knowing how to behave as a new recruit, but standing at his version of attention. With a slouch.
Reed smiles into the face of the angry Flaming Fist guard as he’s led over to the captain. Throughout that exchange and the subsequent handover to Captain Zodge, Reed keeps his fist closed around whatever coins he was able to extract from the man’s pocket.
He winks at Wilfred when he wishes him better luck next time. Reed’s not sure what it is about this man. Definitely not the size nor the lethal glaive he carries, but something reminds Reed of his own father.
After the captain addresses them Reed gives him a salute and waves goodbye to the guardsman he just got closely acquainted with.
He eyes the violent walking suit of armor with amusement and reaches over with a free hand to see how warm the metal really is.
When /if the captain answers the questions the other newcomers have made, Reed will finally check his hand to see what he was able to come away with.
Reed smiles to himself as he weighs what’s in his hand without opening it.
”i could do quite nicely here, fleecing the fleecers, mum,” Reed says quietly to himself.
But then he looks around the crowd of commoners, looking for any halflings that might be trying to escape the city.
If he can reach any nearby, he will give away half of what he liberated so that they can use it to bribe their way out of the city. Giving all of it away would just be silly.
Corlith surveys the crowd feeling a little disappointed that he didn't get more of a reaction beyond a strange man referring to him as horny. Not only was it a little offensive, but he had just said his name. He made a point of explaining it to the gentleman if he got the chance.
At that point the guard calls him down. First he was labelled horny, now a fool. The latter he struggled to argue against.
He deftly jumps down off the wagon, "Well, if the Captain wants to see me, I must have made an impression, lead on".
As he listens to the Captain speak, his eyes flick to the others that seem to have been called over. The halfling from the barrel, the chicken that was clambering over the wagon on it's possum, the flaming suit of armour, the one who called him horny and a sombre looking elf. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.
As he waits for the captain to explain the help he required, he leans across to Wilfred and quietly says, "If you have to identify me by my horns I prefer horned, not horny. Better still just call me Corlith".
Wilfred nods to Corlith and responds. (He is not being quiet) "Hey, sorry there, champ, I mean Corlith. I didn't mean to offend. I don't really know the difference between horny and horned, but whatever float's your boat. The names Wilfred. Put 'er there!" He extends his hand for a handshake.
Wilfred looks around at the 5 others gathered here. So many young people, so eager to join the Flame Fist. Poor misguided youths. Hopefully they will keep the rose colored glasses on and help the common folk, but time will tell.
Hearing no objections, the Captain continues, “Baldur’s Gate has long been plagued by followers of the Dead Three — the gods Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul. I thought we had wiped them out, but apparently not. These purveyors of fear and death are taking advantage of the current crisis to commit murder sprees throughout the city. Obviously, this will not do.” He reaches into a pouch strapped to his side and produces six Flaming Fists badges, giving one to each of you.
“As my appointed deputies in this matter, you’ll have license to kill these wretches on sight. Find their lair, and wipe it out. Eliminate anyone who gets in your way, and don’t worry about collateral damage.” He pauses for a second, then continues on..
“If you do what I say, I’ll see that you each receive two hundred gold pieces in addition to my gratitude, which is worth considerably more.
“A few blocks from the Basilisk Gate is Elfsong Tavern. A spy named Tarina hangs out there, gathering rumors for the Guild. She owes me a favor, so tell her you work for me. Ask her what she knows about the Dead Three. And, for the love of Balduran, be nice. Tarina has dangerous friends.”