BarrenThin2
Senior Member
Chapter 1
A Tale of Two Cities
~~~
Chaos has swallowed Baldur's gate, the city of your home.
The outer city has been flooded with refugees from Elturgard, reporting all manner of strange things. They speak of the city falling, almost as though it vanished from the world. Thavius Kreeg, Cleric of Torm and protector of the city, has vanished with Elturel's fall. Worse still, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, leader of the Council of Four and commander of the Flaming Fist was there on a mission of diplomacy and has not been heard from in a half a tenday. The influx of refugees and lack of leadership has led the Flaming Fist to closing the city's many gates. No one has been allowed in or out in days, as evidenced by angry mobs gathered at the gates- both of people wanting in and out. Such behavior is rarely met with anything other than violence.
The Fist's numbers are stretched thin, and so the lot of you, save Hafdan, have found yourselves more or less press-ganged into service. You've been given orders to report to one Captain Darmin Zodge at the Basilisk gate, armed with nothing but your gear and a vague description of Zodge as a man with dark hair and an eye-patch. Worse still, the thought is hard to avoid that this may all be a trap. Not two days ago, you all had a part to play in the murder of Holk Thinster. Perhaps the Fist has figured out your part in the killings, be it stabbing the man or simply not reporting it. No matter where you've gone, at night, when you're alone, you've felt this oppressive sense that you're being watched since the murder. Maybe it was the Fist investigating you.
Arriving at the Basilisk Gate, you didn't find guards waiting to arrest you. No, you founnd a riot. Dozens of Flaming Fist mercenaries were doing their best to hold back an angry mob trying to force their way through the gate. It took some minutes of searching pass before you found someone matching the description you were given of Zodge.
A few moments passed of this before a rock was hurled from the crowd, striking a Fist soldier's armor. Zodge leapt into the crowd with a roar, punching indiscriminately at whoever was in reach. His soldiers weren't far behind. The scuffle evaporated in seconds as anger turned to fear, but not before a few citizens were left beaten and bloody. Those left behind promptly had their coin purses taken by the Fist soldiers. Just another day in the City of Blood, and just another day dealing with the Flaming Fists. Turning his attention to you all, Zodge looked at you all expectantly. "You're my backup." The man didn't wait for a response; it wasn't a question. It was clear he didn't exactly have time to waste. "'Bout damn time."
“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," Zodge continued with a wince. "Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not. Top it all off, the self righteous pricks think we're to blame for Elturel's disappearance somehow." The soldier spit a glob of blood onto the stonework. "We're arresting Hellriders on sight, but that's left us shorthanded to handle another problem. For that I need you lot. I'm prepared to pay you two hundred gold coins each to deal with this issue. Interested? Talk fast."
A Tale of Two Cities
~~~
Chaos has swallowed Baldur's gate, the city of your home.
The outer city has been flooded with refugees from Elturgard, reporting all manner of strange things. They speak of the city falling, almost as though it vanished from the world. Thavius Kreeg, Cleric of Torm and protector of the city, has vanished with Elturel's fall. Worse still, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, leader of the Council of Four and commander of the Flaming Fist was there on a mission of diplomacy and has not been heard from in a half a tenday. The influx of refugees and lack of leadership has led the Flaming Fist to closing the city's many gates. No one has been allowed in or out in days, as evidenced by angry mobs gathered at the gates- both of people wanting in and out. Such behavior is rarely met with anything other than violence.
The Fist's numbers are stretched thin, and so the lot of you, save Hafdan, have found yourselves more or less press-ganged into service. You've been given orders to report to one Captain Darmin Zodge at the Basilisk gate, armed with nothing but your gear and a vague description of Zodge as a man with dark hair and an eye-patch. Worse still, the thought is hard to avoid that this may all be a trap. Not two days ago, you all had a part to play in the murder of Holk Thinster. Perhaps the Fist has figured out your part in the killings, be it stabbing the man or simply not reporting it. No matter where you've gone, at night, when you're alone, you've felt this oppressive sense that you're being watched since the murder. Maybe it was the Fist investigating you.
Arriving at the Basilisk Gate, you didn't find guards waiting to arrest you. No, you founnd a riot. Dozens of Flaming Fist mercenaries were doing their best to hold back an angry mob trying to force their way through the gate. It took some minutes of searching pass before you found someone matching the description you were given of Zodge.
A few moments passed of this before a rock was hurled from the crowd, striking a Fist soldier's armor. Zodge leapt into the crowd with a roar, punching indiscriminately at whoever was in reach. His soldiers weren't far behind. The scuffle evaporated in seconds as anger turned to fear, but not before a few citizens were left beaten and bloody. Those left behind promptly had their coin purses taken by the Fist soldiers. Just another day in the City of Blood, and just another day dealing with the Flaming Fists. Turning his attention to you all, Zodge looked at you all expectantly. "You're my backup." The man didn't wait for a response; it wasn't a question. It was clear he didn't exactly have time to waste. "'Bout damn time."
“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," Zodge continued with a wince. "Our grand duke, Ulder Ravengard, was visiting Elturel on a diplomatic mission when the city was destroyed. Coincidence? I think not. Top it all off, the self righteous pricks think we're to blame for Elturel's disappearance somehow." The soldier spit a glob of blood onto the stonework. "We're arresting Hellriders on sight, but that's left us shorthanded to handle another problem. For that I need you lot. I'm prepared to pay you two hundred gold coins each to deal with this issue. Interested? Talk fast."
Last edited: