The city is 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 thinly-veiled contempt upon the common rabble in the grimy Lower City, which hugs the foggy harbor – the foundation of Baldur’s Gate. The whole city 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 the city of 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. The patriars try to quell the rising panic, but the refugees – desperate and terrified – claim there is nothing left of the city except a bleeding, burning crater. 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. Now, however, Ravengard is missing and in his absence, the 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 and 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.
With a sour look on his face, Kaltheon spits and turns to his companions, "After last time, I'm tempted to kill one-eye and flee this damned city. But given all this..." he waves his arms at the panicked refugees, "...maybe they're not lying to us again."
He watches as the guard captain deals with the crowd, making no move to intervene, judging the temper of the man from his actions and how he treats the people. Does he pull his blows on the weaker ones? Does he kick them of they fall?
While his age is hard to judge, Kaltheon looks like a person used to surviving alone. His dark hair looks like it was cut with a dagger, and his tanned face looks weatherbeaten, but the equipment he carries -- armour, swords, bow and shield -- all looks very well cared-for.
Xeanon curls his lip at the sight of the guard. When he speaks, you hear the hint of a foreign accent that you can't place (Ukrainian sounding) "Savage. Those people have done noting wrong. They are just scared"
His dress is odd. The fabric is well made, thick cotton that looks to have been oiled to toughen it, but the black garb is definitely built for fighting. He carries no weapons, but at his belt are various gadgets and trinkets. His black hair hangs in a loose ponytail at his back, pulled back to expose his violett eyes. He is clean shaven, and his hands have none of the callouses of a fighter. Other than his garb, nothing suggests that he has seen battle at all.
"Someone should teach him a lesson. It is a shame, I don't care"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Arrila leans on her shield, "Oh, give him a break," she says with a smile. "I'm sure he's just as overwhelmed as the rest of us. Lathander will help guide us where we're needed, when we're needed."
Pulling her cowl slightly up, Anastasia takes a moment to admire the well-built fortress and the masonry that went into building the Basilisk Gate. While it was certainly beautiful, she despises the feeling of being enclosed; she had not stayed in one place for such a long time, and she could not help but empathize with the villagers and refugees clambering to leave.
“How, exactly, you expect to flee the city?” she asks the more standoffish companion next to her. Spitting, she thinks. How resentful. She never understood why people do it. She speaks in an aloof, mild accent that seems to be a combination of dozens of accents you can make out. Most notably, she lacks any lenition when pronouncing words, causing her voice to sound harsh and punctual, and giving her name an unusual bite to it. Interestingly, she often refers to herself in various truncations of her name - Anasta, Nastya, Anna, Sia; names mean little to her.
Restoring the cowl, she turns her head towards the fray. Around her body is a long, plain, black-and-brown trench coat that seems weathered and well-worn. No weapons at all are on her body, and no holster nor hidden pocket can be seen. She could easily be mistaken for a townsperson. Despite this, she confidently begins to approach the conflict, rolling up her sleeves to reveal papery-white, opaque skin. Dark tattoos heavily line her arms, and those looking closely will notice them constantly writhing and swirling.
Once she gets close enough, not afraid to lash out and throw a punch or two to get there, she calls out to the man they were sent to meet. Although she had not spoken to him yet, she already despises him. Keeping civilians like this is no different than a zookeeper with cramped cages, but alas, they had a job to do. “Hey you, Zodge! We’re sent with orders to speak with you.”
Kaltheon ignores Anastasia's attempt at sarcasm, and turns to Arrila with a faint smile, "How men such as he react in times like this tells you a lot about them", his face giving no hint that he is aware of the irony.
His gaze sweeps the unruly crowd, and he keeps an eye Anastasia as well, with the same curiosity, but now it looks like he is ready to lend assistance should it become necessary. "If my short time in this city has taught me anything," he says, "it's that the scum does indeed rise to the top."
With one more quick glance at Arrila, he adds "I like your optimism, and I hope it is well placed."
Chance was already regretting letting himself be conscripted into the Flaming Fists. He was also regretting stopping to look into a random shop window on the way to the Basilisk Gate. He hoped Captain Zodge didn't find out he was a tad late.
The gray tabby tabaxi caught up with the others just as Anastasia began walking into the brawl. "Where is she going?" Chance asked, absently tapping the ring on his finger. "Oh, the Captain's in there? Better make sure they don't get blindsided."
Inwardly, as Chance started heading into the brawl after Anastasia, he wished he'd learned how to handle angry mobs before now. At least he had the reflexes to weave his way through the crowd, only punching a commoner once who'd tried to punch him first.
When Chance finally got to Anastasia and Captain Zodge, he kept an eye on the crowd around him, almost ready to go on the offensive. "Let's try and stop this first somehow, then take orders," he said to the lady in the trenchcoat.
Zodge ignores Anastasia's call out, busy directing his officers towards the most vocal instigators of the mob you all have stumbled upon. The mercenaries under his command are brutal, grabbing hold of several of the commoners and beating them mercilessly.
"You see," Zodge calls out, his voice magically enhanced, "these louts are going against order! Order is what maintains our city and your security! Without order, we cannot protect you." He gestures towards the instigators of the mob as he speaks, allowing his men to continue beating them. None of you are surprised by Zodge's behavior - you would know that Captains of the Flaming Fist have few boundaries they cannot cross when keeping the peace in the Lower City. Soon, the mob's mood turns from anger to fear and it begins to disperse after several more commoners are beaten, roughed up, and robbed.
As the mob disperses, Zodge's six guards form back up around him and he finally turns to regard all of you with his one good eye.
“The refugee crisis,” says Zodge, “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 sighs, looking harried.
“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," he tells you all. Though he sounds amiable enough, it does not sound like a request, but an order.
Still, he adds, "are you willing?"
(Apologies on the late reply, I had a paper to write this weekend)
Anastasia frowns. "Wouldn't arresting the Hellriders on the premise of suspicion be more logical? After all, if they escaped from Elturgard, wouldn't they have a good idea of what happened to the city? It could give this one a better time preparing if it happens here," she thinks out loud, coldly staring Zodge straight in the one eye. She harbored a lot of content for the man already, but his treatment of the common people only seemed to make it rise. Still, she steps back, uncurls her fists, and assumes a more friendly posture. "I, am willing," she says, rolling her sleeves back down. "But I would like to know what you plan to do with the citizens here, outside from continue to keep them locked up."
((It's all right, Inked, those papers need to get done.))
Chance stepped back as he realized that Captain Zodge had it under control...well, his way of control. While the Captain was speaking to the mob, Chance bent down to pick up a loose rock, fiddling with it in one paw. It's a little late to back out of the Fists, now, he thought, standing back up. Kinda obligated to work for him, now.
"So what's this other problem, sir?" he asked, tossing the rock between his paws.
Zodge regards you all coolly. "The citizens here aren't none of your business," he snaps, standing to his full height. "But 'long as they stay nice an' orderly, we'll all get along just fine." He smiles, though it's fairly easy to tell it's an affected, empty gesture. "Now," he claps his hands together in front of him, "to business."
“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. 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 orders, the smile morphing into something cruller.
“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," he adds, giving you all a meaningful look.
“Now, 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.” He gestures to his guard and they pull out copper badges that bear the Flaming Fist's coat of arms and hand one to each of you. "These badges mean you work for me and can act in my name, so no one ought to give you trouble."
Pocketing the badge, Anastasia gives Zodge a hard look. While he certainly was merciless, and could be considered cruel, she respected his twisted way of attempting to make Baldur’s Gate a better place. She was about to prattle off about how collateral damage was often not worth the gain of whatever task they complete, but she holds her tongue; that would be a decision up to them to make.
“At once,” she thinly smiles, before turning off in the direction Zodge pointed, not waiting for the rest of the group. When she feels a comfortable ways away from the detestable captain, she slows, waiting for the party to catch up.
If anything Kaltheon looks relieved, perhaps even surprised. "This sounds like a worthy goal by any measure." he says, taking a badge. Of course it's all probably another lie, he thinks.
Chance accepted one of the badges and pocketed it, making sure he didn't stash it in the same spot as his other badge. He didn't blame Anastasia for leaving immediately, but he had to make sure their group didn't miss something. "We'll be careful, sir. Is there anything else we need to know before we head off?"
Except for taking the badge, his paws didn't stop playing with the rock.
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Welcome, Adventurers, to Baldur’s Gate!
The city is 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 thinly-veiled contempt upon the common rabble in the grimy Lower City, which hugs the foggy harbor – the foundation of Baldur’s Gate. The whole city 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 the city of 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. The patriars try to quell the rising panic, but the refugees – desperate and terrified – claim there is nothing left of the city except a bleeding, burning crater. 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. Now, however, Ravengard is missing and in his absence, the 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 and 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.
No Longer Active
With a sour look on his face, Kaltheon spits and turns to his companions, "After last time, I'm tempted to kill one-eye and flee this damned city. But given all this..." he waves his arms at the panicked refugees, "...maybe they're not lying to us again."
He watches as the guard captain deals with the crowd, making no move to intervene, judging the temper of the man from his actions and how he treats the people. Does he pull his blows on the weaker ones? Does he kick them of they fall?
While his age is hard to judge, Kaltheon looks like a person used to surviving alone. His dark hair looks like it was cut with a dagger, and his tanned face looks weatherbeaten, but the equipment he carries -- armour, swords, bow and shield -- all looks very well cared-for.
Xeanon curls his lip at the sight of the guard. When he speaks, you hear the hint of a foreign accent that you can't place (Ukrainian sounding) "Savage. Those people have done noting wrong. They are just scared"
His dress is odd. The fabric is well made, thick cotton that looks to have been oiled to toughen it, but the black garb is definitely built for fighting. He carries no weapons, but at his belt are various gadgets and trinkets. His black hair hangs in a loose ponytail at his back, pulled back to expose his violett eyes. He is clean shaven, and his hands have none of the callouses of a fighter. Other than his garb, nothing suggests that he has seen battle at all.
"Someone should teach him a lesson. It is a shame, I don't care"
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Arrila leans on her shield, "Oh, give him a break," she says with a smile. "I'm sure he's just as overwhelmed as the rest of us. Lathander will help guide us where we're needed, when we're needed."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Pulling her cowl slightly up, Anastasia takes a moment to admire the well-built fortress and the masonry that went into building the Basilisk Gate. While it was certainly beautiful, she despises the feeling of being enclosed; she had not stayed in one place for such a long time, and she could not help but empathize with the villagers and refugees clambering to leave.
“How, exactly, you expect to flee the city?” she asks the more standoffish companion next to her. Spitting, she thinks. How resentful. She never understood why people do it. She speaks in an aloof, mild accent that seems to be a combination of dozens of accents you can make out. Most notably, she lacks any lenition when pronouncing words, causing her voice to sound harsh and punctual, and giving her name an unusual bite to it. Interestingly, she often refers to herself in various truncations of her name - Anasta, Nastya, Anna, Sia; names mean little to her.
Restoring the cowl, she turns her head towards the fray. Around her body is a long, plain, black-and-brown trench coat that seems weathered and well-worn. No weapons at all are on her body, and no holster nor hidden pocket can be seen. She could easily be mistaken for a townsperson. Despite this, she confidently begins to approach the conflict, rolling up her sleeves to reveal papery-white, opaque skin. Dark tattoos heavily line her arms, and those looking closely will notice them constantly writhing and swirling.
Once she gets close enough, not afraid to lash out and throw a punch or two to get there, she calls out to the man they were sent to meet. Although she had not spoken to him yet, she already despises him. Keeping civilians like this is no different than a zookeeper with cramped cages, but alas, they had a job to do. “Hey you, Zodge! We’re sent with orders to speak with you.”
Kaltheon ignores Anastasia's attempt at sarcasm, and turns to Arrila with a faint smile, "How men such as he react in times like this tells you a lot about them", his face giving no hint that he is aware of the irony.
His gaze sweeps the unruly crowd, and he keeps an eye Anastasia as well, with the same curiosity, but now it looks like he is ready to lend assistance should it become necessary. "If my short time in this city has taught me anything," he says, "it's that the scum does indeed rise to the top."
With one more quick glance at Arrila, he adds "I like your optimism, and I hope it is well placed."
Xeanon laughs at Arilla's comment, but says nothing more.
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Chance was already regretting letting himself be conscripted into the Flaming Fists. He was also regretting stopping to look into a random shop window on the way to the Basilisk Gate. He hoped Captain Zodge didn't find out he was a tad late.
The gray tabby tabaxi caught up with the others just as Anastasia began walking into the brawl. "Where is she going?" Chance asked, absently tapping the ring on his finger. "Oh, the Captain's in there? Better make sure they don't get blindsided."
Inwardly, as Chance started heading into the brawl after Anastasia, he wished he'd learned how to handle angry mobs before now. At least he had the reflexes to weave his way through the crowd, only punching a commoner once who'd tried to punch him first.
When Chance finally got to Anastasia and Captain Zodge, he kept an eye on the crowd around him, almost ready to go on the offensive. "Let's try and stop this first somehow, then take orders," he said to the lady in the trenchcoat.
Zodge ignores Anastasia's call out, busy directing his officers towards the most vocal instigators of the mob you all have stumbled upon. The mercenaries under his command are brutal, grabbing hold of several of the commoners and beating them mercilessly.
"You see," Zodge calls out, his voice magically enhanced, "these louts are going against order! Order is what maintains our city and your security! Without order, we cannot protect you." He gestures towards the instigators of the mob as he speaks, allowing his men to continue beating them. None of you are surprised by Zodge's behavior - you would know that Captains of the Flaming Fist have few boundaries they cannot cross when keeping the peace in the Lower City. Soon, the mob's mood turns from anger to fear and it begins to disperse after several more commoners are beaten, roughed up, and robbed.
As the mob disperses, Zodge's six guards form back up around him and he finally turns to regard all of you with his one good eye.
“The refugee crisis,” says Zodge, “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 sighs, looking harried.
“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," he tells you all. Though he sounds amiable enough, it does not sound like a request, but an order.
Still, he adds, "are you willing?"
(Apologies on the late reply, I had a paper to write this weekend)
No Longer Active
Arrila looks to Zodge as he speaks, wishing she had had more time for the training she had only started at Lathander's temple, "Of... of course Sir."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Anastasia frowns. "Wouldn't arresting the Hellriders on the premise of suspicion be more logical? After all, if they escaped from Elturgard, wouldn't they have a good idea of what happened to the city? It could give this one a better time preparing if it happens here," she thinks out loud, coldly staring Zodge straight in the one eye. She harbored a lot of content for the man already, but his treatment of the common people only seemed to make it rise. Still, she steps back, uncurls her fists, and assumes a more friendly posture. "I, am willing," she says, rolling her sleeves back down. "But I would like to know what you plan to do with the citizens here, outside from continue to keep them locked up."
"That depends on what the job is, is my view."
"This...", he glances around with disgust at the wounded and fleeing citizens, "...is not what I signed up for."
((It's all right, Inked, those papers need to get done.))
Chance stepped back as he realized that Captain Zodge had it under control...well, his way of control. While the Captain was speaking to the mob, Chance bent down to pick up a loose rock, fiddling with it in one paw. It's a little late to back out of the Fists, now, he thought, standing back up. Kinda obligated to work for him, now.
"So what's this other problem, sir?" he asked, tossing the rock between his paws.
Xeanon shoots a contemptuous glance at the captain "If I must. What is this most dreadful task?"
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Zodge regards you all coolly. "The citizens here aren't none of your business," he snaps, standing to his full height. "But 'long as they stay nice an' orderly, we'll all get along just fine." He smiles, though it's fairly easy to tell it's an affected, empty gesture. "Now," he claps his hands together in front of him, "to business."
“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. 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 orders, the smile morphing into something cruller.
“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," he adds, giving you all a meaningful look.
“Now, 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.” He gestures to his guard and they pull out copper badges that bear the Flaming Fist's coat of arms and hand one to each of you. "These badges mean you work for me and can act in my name, so no one ought to give you trouble."
No Longer Active
Xeanon's eyes flash with amusement "Very well. We shall set off promptly"
“I will take responsibility for what I have done. [...] If must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” ― Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer.
Pocketing the badge, Anastasia gives Zodge a hard look. While he certainly was merciless, and could be considered cruel, she respected his twisted way of attempting to make Baldur’s Gate a better place. She was about to prattle off about how collateral damage was often not worth the gain of whatever task they complete, but she holds her tongue; that would be a decision up to them to make.
“At once,” she thinly smiles, before turning off in the direction Zodge pointed, not waiting for the rest of the group. When she feels a comfortable ways away from the detestable captain, she slows, waiting for the party to catch up.
If anything Kaltheon looks relieved, perhaps even surprised. "This sounds like a worthy goal by any measure." he says, taking a badge. Of course it's all probably another lie, he thinks.
Arilla takes the badge, "Yes sir..." she says, trailing off.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Chance accepted one of the badges and pocketed it, making sure he didn't stash it in the same spot as his other badge. He didn't blame Anastasia for leaving immediately, but he had to make sure their group didn't miss something. "We'll be careful, sir. Is there anything else we need to know before we head off?"
Except for taking the badge, his paws didn't stop playing with the rock.