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 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 nobles 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. You have also heard whispers of the commoners' displeasure of being locked within the city, and several riots have already raged throughout. Armed conflict between citizens and the Flaming Fist now being a nearly daily occurrence. And latest gossip from taverns and dark alleyways suggest the barracks are going to be hit next.

 Your orders are to go and speak with Lieutenant Vane at the Flaming Fist barracks, which sits like a castle nestled around a crowd of buildings, heavily armed and armoured guards at every tower and along its walls.

Aurelia strides along the cobbled streets with an air of confidence, her sheathed shortsword at her hip, a leather jerkin cut for her female form on her chest and the dirty sunlight glinting off her coin coloured scales. If the dragonborn woman is unsettled by the recent troubles in the city she was determined not to show it, or how much a determined individualist like herself might privately be chafing at being drafted into the Flaming Fists. 

Pausing to sniff the air - ah, that distinctive Gate aroma of unwashed humanoid, alley cats, river fish and a hundred unidentifiable hints of something - she turns and glances at her companions. "Any ideas why we have been honoured with an invitation by the Lieutenant? I know we can fight well enough but in Vane's boots I'm not sure I'd trust draftees with anything important, even if one of them is a beautiful and talented dragonwoman."

Aurelia speaks with a husky voice, her tone one of amusement as well as curiosity. She has a strong sense of humour and it's a rare situation she can't find some light in.

Thomas steps from an alleyway, a tall water genasi dressed in a long gold-piped navy coat and a captain's hat, cleaning his dagger on a scrap of cloth that he then throws behind him, where it dissolves in a small pool of acid.
'Well, that's one footpad who won't be troubling anyone else.' he mutters to himself, taking in the street around him in an easy glance, before sheathing the dagger on the side opposite a sturdily-built rapier and continuing on his way.

As he walks along the streets, heading towards a more salubrious area of the city, he pulls a scrunched-up parchment out of his pocket, smooths it out and reads the missive again. "Captain Thomas Drake, given the current circumstances under which the city is operating, you are hereby drafted into the Flaming Fist. You will report to Lieutenant Vane in the Flaming Fist Barracks at your earliest convenience. Any attempt to leave the city will be treated as desertion." he spits into the street at the last, his saliva steaming slightly as it pits the cobbles as he scrunches the paper again and shoves it angrily into a pocket.

A short while later finds him approaching the barracks, his face by now smoothed into a quiet calm - only the tightness around his eyes betraying his anger. That and the instinctive twitch of his hand towards his rapier as a messenger bumps into him as they pass. A surprised eyebrow raises as he sees Aurelia standing outside the barracks. 'I see they got you too...' he says, then lowering his voice as he gets closer. 'Do you know why they're so desperate as to draft the likes of us? We're hardly going to be following orders. Not for long at any rate...'

Hope spent her morning praying to Ilmater. Give me the strength to endure this test, my lord. Bless me with patience, kindness, and goodness. The lilac tiefling held her wrists together in the common sign of Ilmater and pressed them against her forehead as she prayed. She could almost feel the soothing touch of Ilmater collecting her worries and aches. The great god would relieve the whole world of suffering and pain were it possible. In his infinite forgiveness, Hope understood that the current predicament she found herself in would serve as a test of faith. She needed to endure the shame and persevere. If she could, her pact with this unholy creature would end. Yet, she could hear him, the fiend, whispering to her in her ear. The things she heard whispered troubled her, but she had no choice but to obey. This was the deal she made... under duress, but it was made nonetheless.

Unlike some of her companions, Hope held her tongue and always seemed to be quietly reflecting upon what she saw and heard all around her. She seemed frightful at this moment due to the summons. Who could have guessed she had escaped one figurative hell for another? Hope clutched the holy symbol of Ilmater around her neck and prayed. Hard. 

Verona is quite pale and has red eyes.

Verona weaves her way through the streets. She is troubled by the recent surge of refugees and the lock down. A few pricks of self doubt slow her step The Flaming Fist has a reputation and she wonders if what she is doing will actually help these poor people. She shakes her head as if trying to snap herself out of this line of thought. No, what i need is help and I cannot do it alone. She takes out and reads the letter of summons for the 10th time. "Yes I must see this through" With newfound determination she maker her way to the barracks.

That is until the heavy scent of blood hits her senses. A dark and feral expression flitted across her face. Delicious blood. I just need a drop and I will be fine. She found herself drifting towards a lone beggar. "Its alright your suffering will end soon" Her inner self snarled in defiance and brings her baser urges to heel. She hastily rummages through her pack and offers the man some rations. I am more than my thirst for blood now move your self to the barracks. With that she marches her self to the barracks and noticed 2 others were already there. She weakly smiles at them. "Well met I am Verona. It looks like both of you have been summoned as well. I wonder what task will Lieutenant Vane give us"

A bright-eyed Eladrin quickens his pace as he approaches their reconnaissance point, one arm protectively wrapped around his bag. Dressed in a simple shirt and a heavy, knee-length coat, he would have been an otherwise unremarkable passerby if not for the fact they were a touch too pristine and well-tailored to belong to a mere merchant or laborer. His expression brightens as he spots the imposing building that was the guard barracks, slipping through the stream of pedestrians before emerging beside the few individuals already beginning to gather.

A sweeping glance told him that his companions seemed a great deal less pleased about their presence here than he, although that was far from enough to dampen the Eladrin's spirits as he dipped in a small bow, offering a pleasant smile in way of greetings. This is promising. He told himself. Seems like sometimes listening to rumors pays off. "Leyrin." He introduced himself politely. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

He raises an eyebrow as his new associates express their curiosity, trying to recall the details of his recruitment into this venture. He'd leaped at the opportunity when it was offered, without perhaps questioning it as much as he should have. "I'd like to know just as much as you do." He answers with a shake of his head, craning his neck to look up at the guards standing watch as he answered absentmindedly. "I'm sure they have a plan to put your skills to good use."

"Let us pray they don't make us turn against the refugees at the gates..." Hope vocalizes, the quality of her voice was such as someone who hasn't spoken in a long time. "I worry they won't let more of my people in... the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are not hospitable especially to those who cannot defend themselves..."

"Yes I agree. I did not join in hopes of hurting more innocents." Verona covers her eyes against the sun and decides to move over to a patch of shade.

Flash had positively jumped at the summons - being drafted into the Flaming Fists was exactly what he needed right now, some direction. In truth he had been drifting for a while now, his new freedom going unused, but what do you do when all your choices are your own? Flash had never known, and now their were too many choices. So accepting the summons was a little bit like falling back into old habits, another place where someone would tell him what to do, and he would fight for someone else's benefit. But the familiar patterns would help until he figured out what came next. Plus he could earn his own money, a novel experience.

"Well, because you're right about everything Aurelia dear - we do fight well, and you are very beautiful and talented" he adds with a twinkly smile. "In fact I'd say we're the most beautiful cohort this whole city has to offer." 

His eyes like solid golden orbs were drawn to the other Tiefling in the group, Hope. She was the opposite of him in many ways - physically she was shorter, while he had a long wiry-ness about him; her single pair of horns swept back from her forehead in a wave, while his two pairs of horns situated close together before and after his hairline, were short and stubby. And while his skin was a dark blue-grey, hers was a gentle lilac, like spring flowers. Everything about her was gentle. Amazing the variation even between us devil-spawn, he thought. He felt a need to impress her.

He was about to assure her that if it came to that they could just say no, when Verona said her piece. "More innocents?" He comments with a wry smile. "Why, how many innocents have you hurt so far?"

Before you all is a wide, massive wooden gate, reinforced with heavy steel bars and massive studs. Upon the wall, you all notice the insignia of the Flaming Fist, a shield with a red fist covered in flames.

As you're all discussing with each other, the gates shudder, then slowly creak open. Revealing a mosaic floored courtyard beyond. Expansive and wide. Immediately to your left you see several fountains, all of them with statues of either a fist or a shield. And to the right is a massive statue of a dragon with rubies for eyes.

In the centre of the courtyard, talking with one of the soldiers, you see a dwarf woman in heavy armour and a heavy fur-lined cloak. Her red hair tied in a sort of a bun. She looks over at all of you as the gates open.

"You must be the adventurers I requested," she said, handing the soldier a piece of paper and sending them away, "it's good that you came when you did. The Captain was meant to meet you here, but he's too busy quelling a riot in the eastern side of the city, taking most of the Fist with him. Aside from the Fists I have on the walls, you're all I have. And there's word a mob might just come here. Let's hope they don't. For your sake." She steps forward, her hands now clasped behind her back. "Why don't you tell me who you all are."

Aurelia had given Captain Thomas Drake - a fellow scoundrel - a surprised but pleased look and she laughed lightly at Flare's compliment but the golden scaled dragonborn had little chance to do more when the gates started opening and the tough looking dwarf woman emerges. Aurelia gives Lieutenant Vane an appraising look, trying to get a quick judgement of her character.

[OOC: - Insight 17]

Stepping forward the dragonborn woman gives the lightest of bows. "I am Aurelia. Just Aurelia, no clan. I am a swordswoman new to the Gate looking for adventure and opportunity, so long as it pays well." She pats the hilt of the shortsword hanging from her belt. "I can handle the blade and the bow and I try to keep my wits as sharp as I keep my sword and my arrows. I like to think I work well with others."

Aurelia smiles ruefully and adds. "I follow the goddess Tymora, so I'm willing to take a gamble or two. Right now it looks like the Fist is the only thing between this city and total anarchy so I'm gambling on us being able to face down any mob if needed, whether it be by bluff or blade. Otherwise... well we lose the pot." 

Hope held a closed hand up to her mouth as everyone spoke. Seeing flirting right before her eyes between her fellow tiefling and this human woman causes Hope to blush as she looked away. Dark whispers flooded her head, and she blushed even harder. It would seem to anyone observing her that she was just shy and overwhelmed by so many people. Of course, her thoughts are interrupted by the dwarven woman.

"M,My name is Hope. I'm..." She looks at all the others here who were impressive by their own merits. Hope only gained power through a deal she has no choice in making. The fiend whispered in her ears, trying to fluster her again. He had given her the power to survive and the Flaming Fist unfortunately had witnessed her blasting a wouldbe attacker in the face. "I'm a good Samaritan. I can cast spells and... That sort of thing." She said simply.

(Insight on Lieutenant, trying to determine if she's as competent as she seems / is being duplicitous: 25)

'Captain Thomas Drake, as I'm sure you're quite aware, Lieutenant...' he says, throwing the scrunched up letter at her feet. 'I had plans before this arrived, and I still do, so let's be about this so I can return to recovering my stolen ship...' he pauses for a moment to think. 'As for the mob, well' he pats his rapier 'I've been caught unawares once, I'm prepared for trouble this time.'

The mention of the refugees waiting outside the gates, finally, causes Leyrin's expression to sober somewhat, brows furrowing in concern. "I doubt that-" He begins to say, then cuts himself off, frowning to himself as he found himself uncertain of his answer. Instead, he shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

The Eladrin seems entirely unperturbed by Thomas' dismissal. Instead, his expression brightens, and whatever other response he had for the captain is swept away. "Mutineers, you say?" he asks, open curiosity in his voice. He seemed poised to follow up with further questions, but is interrupted as the gates open, turning his attention to the woman. Worry touches his face for a brief moment when she mentions the riot, but it is quickly replaced by a look of resolve.

He shoots a glance at the Dragonborn as she lists off her credentials, before offering a small bow and a beaming smile in turn. He unconsciously straightens his posture in an attempt to look more confident as he answers. "Leyrin, at your service. I have some modest skill in the magical arts, and I'd be happy to help keep the peace however necessary." Considering his career as a storyteller was unlikely to impress at the moment, he chose to omit it, at least for now.

Flash shook his head at the mention of riots and mobs. Such a shame, although he wasn't very surprised. This city seemed to be a tinder box at the best of times, and with all the refugees from Elturel it was like a spark had been struck. Honestly, the Flaming Fists were probably outnumbered and on the way out, but they would do for now, and if it all fell apart he'd just have to find somewhere new.

The group announced themselves until the dwarf's gaze fell on him. "Flash, sir." He bowed sarcastically low, his tail stretched out behind him to maintain balance, his loose robes gaping a little at the chest, before adding "At your service. Don't worry about a few angry folk - if they get in you shall be witness to such enchanting manoeuvres you have never seen. Unless of course, you've been to one of my fights." He gives her a broad smile, revealing teeth a little more pointed than the average, canines a little longer.

"Good sir, I should hope you refer to using a silver tongue to quell the panic. Violence will only bring more pain..." Hope meekly interjects, holding the holy symbol of her necklace in her hand and thumbing it absentmindedly like a woman clutching pearls. She looks Flash in the eye as long as she can in order to convey the seriousness of her words, even if they might be lost anyway. She had to try. This was the will of her lord. "The refugees just lost their home. It makes sense they would be lost, confused, and scared."

"But of course, good lady," he says, using her words, then "My tongue is famed throughout the land" with a small smile. "Though I don't think it's the refugees we'll have to worry about, but the locals upset at how busy their city suddenly is."

The innuendo completely flying over Hope's head, she smiles brightly, "Oh good. I was worried..." She nods. "Yes of course, tensions seem to be running high. If only there was some way to relieve it. Ilmater, please guide my hands." Hope prays.

Flash briefly considers commenting further, but holds his tongue for once. It wouldn't help, and it was funnier to leave her words as they stood. He was going to enjoy his time here, he could tell. He just smiles his twinkly smile, and turns back to the Lieutenant.