Baldur’s Gate began as a harbor town where traders would meet with “ghost lighters” — folk along the Sword Coast who used lights to lure fogbound ships to shore. When those ships ran aground, the ghost lighters would scavenge the wrecks and haul their plundered goods to Baldur’s Gate, nestled on the north shore of a bend in the River Chionthar, and sell their booty. In the years since, Baldur’s Gate has grown into a walled city.
Today, its foggy streets run red with the blood of unfortunates who fall prey to evil opportunists, many of whom count themselves as nobles, traders, pirates, and assassins.
An army of mercenary soldiers called the Flaming Fist keeps order in the city, and these soldiers answer to Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard. The members of the Flaming Fist don’t care about justice; they crave power and coin, nothing else.
But despite the Fist’s reputation for cruelty, the Grand Duke is widely regarded as an honorable and reasonable man.
The city of Elturel, capital of Elturgard, is located much farther inland along the River Chionthar. Whereas Baldur’s Gate has a well-earned reputation for being a nest of vipers, Elturel is seen as a beacon of faith, order, and high culture. The two cities have endured a long, bitter rivalry that originated when Baldur’s Gate began stealing cargo and coin from ships heading to and from Elturel, stifling that city’s sea trade. Though the conflicts between Baldur’s Gate and Elturel have always fallen short of open warfare, relations between the cities have been tense for a long time — too long, some would say.
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 patriars — 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 patriars 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 have begun to filter the flow of refugees allowed through the gates.
You find yourself at the North Gate at the end of the afternoon.
Make a description of your character and what you are doing at the gate.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Walking through the crowd like she does every day, Mist feels a twinge of sympathy for the refugees, but focuses on finding a loose purse that the owner wouldn’t notice missing for a few seconds. Standing at a solid 6 ft 2in, with dark green hair tied in a braid down her back, her strange, almost electric blue eyes dart everywhere. Mist wears a simple tunic and well-fitted pants under a dark green cloak with the hood thrown back, which covers a variety of weapons and tools she uses daily. Glancing at her new partner, Mist attempts to steal some coin from a wealthier-looking merchant.
Banlashan looks about the crowd for Thorin, it's hard to do giving his diminutive size, "Drats! I swear if I were just 3 foot and 2 inches tall this would be so much easier" he makes a quick mental note to look into some sort of lifts or platform shoes later. Instead he see's Mist not to far away and waves at her to try and catch her attention while simultaneously calling out her name, "Ho there Mist!" catching up with her he looks up at her with his silver colored eyes pleading, "Please, I'm looking for a friend. His name is Thorin, he's this tall" he holds up his orb topped stave to measure by, "...and he most likely we'll be armored to the teeth. Oh! And he's a dwarf"
Maybe it's the distraction but as Myst turns toward the familiar voice she rips a part of the pouch and gold pins start spilling in the on the cobblestones. She turns to see the angry eyes of the man she just robbed but both are pushed away by the surging crowd of refugees looking for easy money.
Despite thee howls of the merchant and the heavy fisted method of the Flaming Fists it takes a few minutes to subdue the crowd. Just enough for Myst to melt into the chaos.
As she approaches her gnome friend she catches the hard stare of Captain Zoldge. He shakes his head 'no' , and glowers a bit longer to make sure his point comes across.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Badran scans the crowd, eager to keep his newfound job. The press of bodies, the still-new smells, the different races, skintones, clothing, languages, accents..! It is sometimes too much. His mind flits back to the hunting trip, the path back, and the lost future. Going over it again for the thousandth time this season, he still cannot come up with a way he could have done anything differently.
Sighing, he snaps his attention back to the crowd, searching for a refugee that may need help.
22
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Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
Gorgon had barely arrived with the Margaster Disaster Relief Caravan before the swathes of people at the North Gate had completely halted their progress.
"By the gods," he thought, "They needed this."
Almost as soon as Baldur's Gate had heard word of waves of incoming refugees, it reached out to other Lord's Alliance member cities to request aid for the humanitarian crisis about to be in their hands. The Lords of Waterdeep had quickly gotten together and, working in tandem with various city guilds and aristocratic businesses, organized a supply chain. Gorgon was one of several Lord's Alliance representatives in the caravan, in charge of making sure proper clearances, licenses, and other administrivia got through in a timely manner for the aid team to begin their work. They gave him this job because of racial stereotypes - he was a half-orc, and half-orcs are supposed to be intimidating.
And as 7 feet and 300 pounds of rippling muscle, he was.
Intimidating people don't have to pay bribes to make bureaucrats do their job.
With a greataxe strapped to his back (he didn't expect to have to use it), Gorgon began discussing with other Lord's Alliance agents about where they would be setting up the refugee camp, how to arrange for clean water, sanitation, and waste disposal, and other important logistical issues. A druid from Waterdeep's Order of Magists and Protectors was beginning to dig wells with her mold earth cantrip while other volunteers began opening crates of makeshift tent kits.
But before the aid delegation could officially do their job, Gorgon had to do his. He had to find the local head of the office of bureaucrawhatever administrupid and double check that the field outside the North Gate is a good place for a refugee camp. His people told him that the specialists determined it was indeed a good place for a refugee camp - something about the slopes, the level of the water table, the distance from the roads and the city and everything else, he wasn't sure about the details. But the head offices had told him that was the place, and it was his job to make sure the local officers would agree.
Gorgon looked at the sprawls of people in the North Gate courtyard. "Goodness," he said to the caravan driver next to him, "If this place was half as organized as Waterdeep, they'd all have twice as many teeth."
He checked the map of the city that his fellow representatives had given him. They were going to set up the camp, while he was to ensure proper permissions. He determined where the proper office was, and started making his way there. One issue got in his way. The masses. He couldn't break through. Being at least a head taller than everyone else usually helped him get through crowds, but it wasn't working here. He guessed he'd have to do what he was hired to do - make himself heard. He took a deep breath, and yelled to the crowd: "MOVE!"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Mist ducked her head down and cursed at being noticed by not one, but two people. She’d forgotten to hide in the crowd again, not something she’d thought she would forget since the last time ended so poorly. But shaking her head, she focused and couldn’t help but smile at the short fellow talking in such an animated way. Looking around at the crowd, she smiled and told Banlashan,
“You know, I can’t help but think he’ll be as hard to see as you in this crowd. I’ll help, but we gotta make it quick. I’m kind of here on business Ban.”
Looking for a very armored up dwarf in the crowd without much hope of seeing him, Mist scans the mass of people.
Thorin a tall for a Dwarf (almost 5') that is wearing chain mail and shield, with a warhammer at his side is among the crowd. His deep blue eyes is scanning the crowd looking for his friend a Gnome by the name of Banlashan. Unable to find his friend the black haired Dwarf with a large beard is doing his best to calm the crowd around him. "Please friends all will be well. Calm yourselves. There is no need to panic."
Banlashan smiled, Mist was always so kind to him, but he realized he had interrupted her trade and that was something he regretted.
"Ahh, yes, business, of course! I'm... so sorry... for interrupting your..." Banlashan danced wildly as people nearly trampled him in the crowd. Gnomes weren't scarce any more, he would have thought people would look down as they walked. Still, being a second rate citizen had it's benefits, it had allowed him to live undetected for quite a while. Before he could finish his sentence though he had an idea, "Wait, maybe lift me, over your head. I weight but a loaf of bread, and then maybe I can see my friend and you can get back to your business"
Just as thee gnome proposes to go on her shoulder Mist sees a dwarf wearing what appears to be emblems of his god on his tabard trying to calm the crowd. He his not yet inside the gate and it seems that the Flaming Fist are about to push the rest of the refugees out. More of them are gathering and Mist can't shake the nasty feeling that's creeping along her spine.
Gorgon's boisterous voice splits the crowd open, ( and Thorin finds himself in the middle of that path alone with the large half orc next to him.) but also attract the attention of several Flaming Fist soldiers. Two of them are moving to see what the paladin wants. They are weary.
Mist, you see that the captain Zoldge is talking with a new group of Flaming fist and they are talking energetically.
Badran you see all this happening and glimpse at a group of women and kids trying to follow in the half orc's footsteps. They are trying to remain unnoticed and for now they seem to have accomplished it.
Thorin looks at the Half Orc and says with a smile: "Well that's one way to get their attention and it seems to have worked." He nods to Gorgon indicating the approaching soldiers as he approaches the big Half Orc.
Gorgon proceeds forwards, nodding his thanks to Thorin and addressing the soldiers matter-of-factly.
"Hello officers, Gorgon of the Lord's Alliance, Waterdeep Representative here. I've just arrived with the aid caravan to help assist the refugees and am looking for the nearest city office to obtain permissions to set camp." He didn't slow down or wait for them to catch up. He didn't even look at them. He had business to do.
Badran tries to placate the crowd as he walks towards the half-orc.
8 Charisma (unskilled in persuasion)
"Please, everyone will get through safely if we all just allow for each other space. Mind your elders!"
Finally reaching the half-orc, Badran reaches out a hand in greeting, his other hand on a pouch at his kilt's belt. "You seem to have something that needs to happen. But I'm sure there is no need to shout. Is there something I, or another member of the Flaming Fist can help with?"
He looks at the women and children behind the half-orc. "Are they with you?"
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Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
"If shouting is the only way I can get through this crowd, then I'll shout all I want. I'm looking for the nearest city office, where I am to obtain permissions for Waterdeep's relief delegation to set a refugee camp and resource distribution center outside the North Gate. I was told this office is in this direction," he looks at Badran, "And can you help me find it?"
He then looks behind him at the women and children, "No, I don't recognize them. But we're here to help them, so in a grand, metaphysical way I suppose they are with me, yes."
"I have been given the name of Badran The Returner, well met. My concern with the shouting is a panicked crowd. Let's find another way. Refugee Services is this way."He nods towards a repurposed campaign tent set up in a nearby wagonyard.
Before leading the way, Badran extends his hand to one of the women following the half-orc, "Mother, I am called Badran The Returner, is there some way I can serve you, too?"
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This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Mist points Thorin out to Banlashan, noticing the large shouting half-orc next to him, and says,
“Okay Ban, if that’s him, then I’d hurry up before those refugees make you lose him again. My recommendation? Get him and get out of this area for a bit. I don’t like the look of this crowd right now. Too many people and definitely too many Fist mercenaries.”
Mist does a little wave to Banlashan before pulling her hood up and tucking her braid inside while melting into the crowd, trying to blend into the flow to prevent being seen, AGAIN, by Zoldge. On the way, she tries to see where Whisper is, and if he’s managed better than her so far.
(please be good)
Stealth 15 Perception to find Whisper if needed 7
(hey, I DON’T suck at stealth! Still can’t find Whis though)
Ban nods and smiles at Mist, "Thanks again!" he says to her before rushing over to where Thorin is standing, he looks back briefly but Mist has already disappeared into the crowd, "She is awfully good at that" he then turned back to Thorin and made his way quickly over there, dodging the heavy footfalls of many refugees. "Thorin!" he called out to his dwarven friend, "Thorin it's me Banlashan...OneEye!"
((Wait a second. So the characters in this campaign are named Gorgon, Thorin, Badran, Banlashan "Ban", Mist, and Myst? We really should have coordinated better. XD))
"Thank you," Gorgon responds to Badran, and does not wait for the man as he continues to the Refugee Services tent. He skips the line and heads directly for the nearest available office worker.
"Excuse me," he says to the NPC, "I am Gorgon, Lord's Alliance Waterdeep representative. My relief aid team and I have just arrived and I am to get a city official to sign this permission to set up a refugee camp just outside the North Gate before we can continue our work. Could you direct me to the nearest appropriate official?"
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Baldur’s Gate began as a harbor town where traders would meet with “ghost lighters” — folk along the Sword Coast who used lights to lure fogbound ships to shore. When those ships ran aground, the ghost lighters would scavenge the wrecks and haul their plundered goods to Baldur’s Gate, nestled on the north shore of a bend in the River Chionthar, and sell their booty. In the years since, Baldur’s Gate has grown into a walled city.
Today, its foggy streets run red with the blood of unfortunates who fall prey to evil opportunists, many of whom count themselves as nobles, traders, pirates, and assassins.
An army of mercenary soldiers called the Flaming Fist keeps order in the city, and these soldiers answer to Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard. The members of the Flaming Fist don’t care about justice; they crave power and coin, nothing else.
But despite the Fist’s reputation for cruelty, the Grand Duke is widely regarded as an honorable and reasonable man.
The city of Elturel, capital of Elturgard, is located much farther inland along the River Chionthar. Whereas Baldur’s Gate has a well-earned reputation for being a nest of vipers, Elturel is seen as a beacon of faith, order, and high culture. The two cities have endured a long, bitter rivalry that originated when Baldur’s Gate began stealing cargo and coin from ships heading to and from Elturel, stifling that city’s sea trade. Though the conflicts between Baldur’s Gate and Elturel have always fallen short of open warfare, relations between the cities have been tense for a long time — too long, some would say.
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 patriars — 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 patriars 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 have begun to filter the flow of refugees allowed through the gates.
You find yourself at the North Gate at the end of the afternoon.
Make a description of your character and what you are doing at the gate.
Walking through the crowd like she does every day, Mist feels a twinge of sympathy for the refugees, but focuses on finding a loose purse that the owner wouldn’t notice missing for a few seconds. Standing at a solid 6 ft 2in, with dark green hair tied in a braid down her back, her strange, almost electric blue eyes dart everywhere. Mist wears a simple tunic and well-fitted pants under a dark green cloak with the hood thrown back, which covers a variety of weapons and tools she uses daily. Glancing at her new partner, Mist attempts to steal some coin from a wealthier-looking merchant.
(if needed) Sleight of Hand 9
(oops)
Banlashan looks about the crowd for Thorin, it's hard to do giving his diminutive size, "Drats! I swear if I were just 3 foot and 2 inches tall this would be so much easier" he makes a quick mental note to look into some sort of lifts or platform shoes later. Instead he see's Mist not to far away and waves at her to try and catch her attention while simultaneously calling out her name, "Ho there Mist!" catching up with her he looks up at her with his silver colored eyes pleading, "Please, I'm looking for a friend. His name is Thorin, he's this tall" he holds up his orb topped stave to measure by, "...and he most likely we'll be armored to the teeth. Oh! And he's a dwarf"
Maybe it's the distraction but as Myst turns toward the familiar voice she rips a part of the pouch and gold pins start spilling in the on the cobblestones. She turns to see the angry eyes of the man she just robbed but both are pushed away by the surging crowd of refugees looking for easy money.
Despite thee howls of the merchant and the heavy fisted method of the Flaming Fists it takes a few minutes to subdue the crowd. Just enough for Myst to melt into the chaos.
As she approaches her gnome friend she catches the hard stare of Captain Zoldge. He shakes his head 'no' , and glowers a bit longer to make sure his point comes across.
Badran scans the crowd, eager to keep his newfound job. The press of bodies, the still-new smells, the different races, skintones, clothing, languages, accents..! It is sometimes too much. His mind flits back to the hunting trip, the path back, and the lost future. Going over it again for the thousandth time this season, he still cannot come up with a way he could have done anything differently.
Sighing, he snaps his attention back to the crowd, searching for a refugee that may need help.
22
Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
Badran The Returner
Gorgon had barely arrived with the Margaster Disaster Relief Caravan before the swathes of people at the North Gate had completely halted their progress.
"By the gods," he thought, "They needed this."
Almost as soon as Baldur's Gate had heard word of waves of incoming refugees, it reached out to other Lord's Alliance member cities to request aid for the humanitarian crisis about to be in their hands. The Lords of Waterdeep had quickly gotten together and, working in tandem with various city guilds and aristocratic businesses, organized a supply chain. Gorgon was one of several Lord's Alliance representatives in the caravan, in charge of making sure proper clearances, licenses, and other administrivia got through in a timely manner for the aid team to begin their work. They gave him this job because of racial stereotypes - he was a half-orc, and half-orcs are supposed to be intimidating.
And as 7 feet and 300 pounds of rippling muscle, he was.
Intimidating people don't have to pay bribes to make bureaucrats do their job.
With a greataxe strapped to his back (he didn't expect to have to use it), Gorgon began discussing with other Lord's Alliance agents about where they would be setting up the refugee camp, how to arrange for clean water, sanitation, and waste disposal, and other important logistical issues. A druid from Waterdeep's Order of Magists and Protectors was beginning to dig wells with her mold earth cantrip while other volunteers began opening crates of makeshift tent kits.
But before the aid delegation could officially do their job, Gorgon had to do his. He had to find the local head of the office of bureaucrawhatever administrupid and double check that the field outside the North Gate is a good place for a refugee camp. His people told him that the specialists determined it was indeed a good place for a refugee camp - something about the slopes, the level of the water table, the distance from the roads and the city and everything else, he wasn't sure about the details. But the head offices had told him that was the place, and it was his job to make sure the local officers would agree.
Gorgon looked at the sprawls of people in the North Gate courtyard. "Goodness," he said to the caravan driver next to him, "If this place was half as organized as Waterdeep, they'd all have twice as many teeth."
He checked the map of the city that his fellow representatives had given him. They were going to set up the camp, while he was to ensure proper permissions. He determined where the proper office was, and started making his way there. One issue got in his way. The masses. He couldn't break through. Being at least a head taller than everyone else usually helped him get through crowds, but it wasn't working here. He guessed he'd have to do what he was hired to do - make himself heard. He took a deep breath, and yelled to the crowd: "MOVE!"
Charisma (Intimidation) Check: 16
Mist ducked her head down and cursed at being noticed by not one, but two people. She’d forgotten to hide in the crowd again, not something she’d thought she would forget since the last time ended so poorly. But shaking her head, she focused and couldn’t help but smile at the short fellow talking in such an animated way. Looking around at the crowd, she smiled and told Banlashan,
“You know, I can’t help but think he’ll be as hard to see as you in this crowd. I’ll help, but we gotta make it quick. I’m kind of here on business Ban.”
Looking for a very armored up dwarf in the crowd without much hope of seeing him, Mist scans the mass of people.
Perception? 14
Thorin a tall for a Dwarf (almost 5') that is wearing chain mail and shield, with a warhammer at his side is among the crowd. His deep blue eyes is scanning the crowd looking for his friend a Gnome by the name of Banlashan. Unable to find his friend the black haired Dwarf with a large beard is doing his best to calm the crowd around him. "Please friends all will be well. Calm yourselves. There is no need to panic."
Banlashan smiled, Mist was always so kind to him, but he realized he had interrupted her trade and that was something he regretted.
"Ahh, yes, business, of course! I'm... so sorry... for interrupting your..." Banlashan danced wildly as people nearly trampled him in the crowd. Gnomes weren't scarce any more, he would have thought people would look down as they walked. Still, being a second rate citizen had it's benefits, it had allowed him to live undetected for quite a while. Before he could finish his sentence though he had an idea, "Wait, maybe lift me, over your head. I weight but a loaf of bread, and then maybe I can see my friend and you can get back to your business"
I'm assuming a 22 on perception is enough to see the half-orc yelling. I'd like to approach him.
Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
Badran The Returner
Yes it would ..
Just as thee gnome proposes to go on her shoulder Mist sees a dwarf wearing what appears to be emblems of his god on his tabard trying to calm the crowd. He his not yet inside the gate and it seems that the Flaming Fist are about to push the rest of the refugees out. More of them are gathering and Mist can't shake the nasty feeling that's creeping along her spine.
Gorgon's boisterous voice splits the crowd open, ( and Thorin finds himself in the middle of that path alone with the large half orc next to him.) but also attract the attention of several Flaming Fist soldiers. Two of them are moving to see what the paladin wants. They are weary.
Mist, you see that the captain Zoldge is talking with a new group of Flaming fist and they are talking energetically.
Badran you see all this happening and glimpse at a group of women and kids trying to follow in the half orc's footsteps. They are trying to remain unnoticed and for now they seem to have accomplished it.
Thorin looks at the Half Orc and says with a smile: "Well that's one way to get their attention and it seems to have worked." He nods to Gorgon indicating the approaching soldiers as he approaches the big Half Orc.
Gorgon proceeds forwards, nodding his thanks to Thorin and addressing the soldiers matter-of-factly.
"Hello officers, Gorgon of the Lord's Alliance, Waterdeep Representative here. I've just arrived with the aid caravan to help assist the refugees and am looking for the nearest city office to obtain permissions to set camp." He didn't slow down or wait for them to catch up. He didn't even look at them. He had business to do.
Badran tries to placate the crowd as he walks towards the half-orc.
8 Charisma (unskilled in persuasion)
"Please, everyone will get through safely if we all just allow for each other space. Mind your elders!"
Finally reaching the half-orc, Badran reaches out a hand in greeting, his other hand on a pouch at his kilt's belt. "You seem to have something that needs to happen. But I'm sure there is no need to shout. Is there something I, or another member of the Flaming Fist can help with?"
He looks at the women and children behind the half-orc. "Are they with you?"
Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
Badran The Returner
"If shouting is the only way I can get through this crowd, then I'll shout all I want. I'm looking for the nearest city office, where I am to obtain permissions for Waterdeep's relief delegation to set a refugee camp and resource distribution center outside the North Gate. I was told this office is in this direction," he looks at Badran, "And can you help me find it?"
He then looks behind him at the women and children, "No, I don't recognize them. But we're here to help them, so in a grand, metaphysical way I suppose they are with me, yes."
"I have been given the name of Badran The Returner, well met. My concern with the shouting is a panicked crowd. Let's find another way. Refugee Services is this way." He nods towards a repurposed campaign tent set up in a nearby wagonyard.
Before leading the way, Badran extends his hand to one of the women following the half-orc, "Mother, I am called Badran The Returner, is there some way I can serve you, too?"
Just a husband, father, DM, strength coach, writer, mustard producer, youth minister, and US Army Airborne veteran trying to stay sane.
Badran The Returner
Mist points Thorin out to Banlashan, noticing the large shouting half-orc next to him, and says,
“Okay Ban, if that’s him, then I’d hurry up before those refugees make you lose him again. My recommendation? Get him and get out of this area for a bit. I don’t like the look of this crowd right now. Too many people and definitely too many Fist mercenaries.”
Mist does a little wave to Banlashan before pulling her hood up and tucking her braid inside while melting into the crowd, trying to blend into the flow to prevent being seen, AGAIN, by Zoldge. On the way, she tries to see where Whisper is, and if he’s managed better than her so far.
(please be good)
Stealth 15
Perception to find Whisper if needed 7
(hey, I DON’T suck at stealth! Still can’t find Whis though)
Ban nods and smiles at Mist, "Thanks again!" he says to her before rushing over to where Thorin is standing, he looks back briefly but Mist has already disappeared into the crowd, "She is awfully good at that" he then turned back to Thorin and made his way quickly over there, dodging the heavy footfalls of many refugees. "Thorin!" he called out to his dwarven friend, "Thorin it's me Banlashan...OneEye!"
((Wait a second. So the characters in this campaign are named Gorgon, Thorin, Badran, Banlashan "Ban", Mist, and Myst? We really should have coordinated better. XD))
"Thank you," Gorgon responds to Badran, and does not wait for the man as he continues to the Refugee Services tent. He skips the line and heads directly for the nearest available office worker.
"Excuse me," he says to the NPC, "I am Gorgon, Lord's Alliance Waterdeep representative. My relief aid team and I have just arrived and I am to get a city official to sign this permission to set up a refugee camp just outside the North Gate before we can continue our work. Could you direct me to the nearest appropriate official?"