Session 1: Heroes of the Wide

A band of disparate adventurers had arrived in Baldur's Gate after journeying together for a short time. If asked why, they'd cite the need for companionship, mutual protection, and perhaps glory. Though some of those could be lies, but all had different feelings about coming to one of the Sword Coast's largest cities.

They numbered five:

• Lord Djarek Talborn, a young human Waterhavian noble and a cleric of Sune. His choice for revering Lady Firehair, the goddess of love and beauty, might have seemed obvious, given his handsome features and overall striking appearance, but perhaps there was more to it. He seemed to have left home behind for a reason. With him was his manservant, Aldus, who'd known Djarek since he was a boy.
• Primeiro d'Pirazzi, a well-dressed young mage as unusual as his name, who carried himself with jocular grace. Accustomed to entertaining nobility, he was keen to leave his pirate-related past where it was and support and/or leverage the presence of the traveling Lord Talborn.
• Ulther Stormwind, a human fighter from Icewind Dale. Formerly a bounty hunter, Ulther was accustomed to chasing down bandits and goblins in dry, wintry mountain passes. What would this damp and all-too-warm southern city offer?
• Shrain, dwarven cleric of Moradin also far from his mountain home. Unsubtle, direct, and as ready to hurl holy fire as swing a hammer.
• Tredek, a half-orc barbarian with the skills of a hunter and a curious penchant for books. Carrying a mighty maul and a pair of eagerly-swinging handaxes, Tredek brings the savage wild into the big city.

After spending a restful night in the Lower City—the steep-sloped majority of the city—they followed the crowds. Citizens of all stripes and class were out in force, for it was Returning Day, the anniversary of the day that Baldur Gate's namesake, Balduran, returned to the small port of Gray Harbor. Ushered along to the Upper City—the spatial, at times palatial, ward of the city where the patriars (nobles) lived—they found themselves in the great town square known as the Wide. At the center was a marble statue of a beaming warrior bearing a tiny hamster in his hand. Called the Beloved Ranger, it depicted some sort of local hero. "That's Minsc and Boo!" said one of the upper class citizens.

The PCs' attention was drawn to the eastern end of the Wide, where a stage had been set up and a throng of people had gathered. Some official-looking person was giving an, then the crowds roared with adoration as an armored and wizened-looking warrior took the stage. Duke Abdel Adrian, the PCs quickly learned, a true hero of the people. It was said that Abdel had saved the city from some great disaster many, many years ago. White-haired, older, but still quite hale, he'd retired as one of Baldur's Gate four dukes.

The Baldurians shouted for him, and he responded kindly, and humbly. He might be a politician but he was an adventurer first and had clearly earned his place as a hero of the people. Duke Adrian then launched into a poetic speech of praise for his adopted city, but the PCs were among the first to notice a disturbance: a cloaked figure pushing its way toward the stage. Then the stranger leapt up and drew a short sword. While unremarkable in appearance, the stranger exuded confidence. There were shouts and murmurers and members of the Watch struggled to make their way toward the stage.

The Beloved Ranger

In full sight of everyone, the stranger attacked Duke Abdel Adrian, who was more surprised than afraid. Unarmed, the old duke swatted away the first few stabs of his opponent's short sword with his mailed hands.

The PCs moved to get involved—just as a handful of hard-eyed men, similarly cloaked to the man on stage and clad in leather jerkins, appeared from out of the crowd to prevent this. Tredek and Ulther were the first to engage the goons with axe and sword, while Primeiro, Djarek, and Shrain worked their way toward the stage itself. The goons eventually went down, but not without dealing some severe wounds to the would-be heroes. Every time a physical blow was struck, a strange elation surged through the attacker. It didn't seem...natural.

Primeiro gained the stage first—followed by Tredek, whose axes were dripping with blood already—and launched minor spells against the stranger. The cloaked stranger dodged or shrug them off, and finally, stabbed Duke Abdel Adrian in the chest with his short sword. The armor ruptured, and a swirling black and red vapor surged from the open wound. Dazed and wide-eyed, Abdel collapsed to the stage.

Duke Abdel Adrian

The assassin himself then transformed—even to his own surprise. His body elongated, bones cracking, and his skin began to slough away, leaving glistening, dripping muscle beneath. Claws sprouted from his hands, and he dropped his weapon. Blood misted away from his body like vaporized sweat. Tredek, unfazed, slammed the creature in the back with his maul. The creature swatted at him, then sprang thirty feet in the air and out into the mostly-scattered crowd. There, he tore head off one of the Watchman and threw it into a cowering old woman—killing both civilian and armsman.

While Primeiro struggled to save the dying Abdel, the other PCs went after the assassin. It took a few agonizing moments to bring the creature down—for though it once was a man, it was no longer human. Rage and insensate violence suffused it. Only when the monster collapsed—withering, staring in shock at its hands with the gore-filled cavities of its eyes—did the Watch arrive in force, peppering its body with crossbow bolts.

Primeiro's efforts were noble but in vain. The bandages in his healer's kit disintegrated as it touched the fuming energies of the duke's mortal wound. Abdel briefly met the mage's eyes and mouthed, "There was...one more" in astonishment. Then the black-clad Watch stormed onto the scene, demanded Primeiro stand clear, and ordered the newcomers to stand by the stage.

As they idled anxiously and tended to their immediate wounds, they were approached and thanked for a few members of the Watch. But for a time, they were left to themselves. Over the course of a good twenty minutes, three separate men approached or waved them over.

The first was a meticulously well-dressed man of obvious Amnish heritage and the bearing of a mage. Introducing himself as Imbralym Skoond, he said, "My master bids me to discover who took Abdel Adrian's life. If you wish to save Baldur's Gate from the rot festering inside it, meet me at the Three Old Kegs. I will be there until four bells." Then he slipped away. The Three Old Kegs was a respectable restaurant in the Upper City.

Imbralym Skoond

The second was a tall, military man with dark skin, grim countenance, and wearing plate mail and the decorated uniform and tabard of the Flaming Fist—the mercenary company that was Baldur's Gate standing army (though their jurisdiction lies chiefly with the Lower and Outer Cities). Approaching Tredek and Ulther as obvious warriors, he thanked them for their intervention on Duke Abdel's behalf. "I am Ulder Ravengard, commander of Wyrm's Rock and—as of right now—marshal of the Flaming Fist. Duke Adrian had been our marshal. The Watch was responsible for his safety here and should have protected him. We are indebted to you. Please meet me at Wyrm's Rock, where we can have a proper introduction. You could be of great service to our city. I hope you do not disprove my good appraisal of you. You'll find I can be a valuable friend."

Then there was a third man. This one only Shrain spotted because the dwarf was looking outward. A young, slight man in a deep hood and a neat beard—perhaps a half-elf? Having been waved over, Shrain approached him. The young man said, "Listen. You are newcomers here, so you don't know the situation. Don't trust either of those men who spoke to you. If you want to know what is really happening in Baldur's Gate, meet me at the gateway to Little Calimshan at dusk." Then he stepped casually away.

Ulther Ravengard

Left to discuss the unexpected triad of offers, the PCs realized they couldn't make it to each meeting. The city was much too big, the streets too crowded, the time too short. So they would have to decide. Imbralym, whoever he served, was clearly of the Upper City—a nobleman, a patriar, or someone else of great importance. Ravengard was the marshal of the Flaming Fist—therefore given great authority over the Lower City and military influence in general. The third, nameless, was an unknown.

In the end, the PCs opted to meet Ravengard, for he seemed the most direct in his approach and intentions. Only if there was time would they consider a second meeting. So they trudged through the crowded streets, exiting the Upper City by means of Baldur's Gate, the namesake of the city and the only one of five gates through which most citizens are allowed to enter the Upper City. They procured the services of a boy named Allyck at a small inn, who became their guide only as far as Basilisk Gate. The only way to reach Wyrm's Rock, the headquarters of the Flaming Fist where they would have to meet Ravengard, was through the sprawl of Outer City—which lay outside the city walls and was known as the slums, ghettos, and immigrant shanty town of Baldur's Gate.

At Basilisk Gate, there was a bottleneck in the crowds as the Flaming Fist mercenaries had set up a checkpoint. The gate usually levied a tax on goods passing through, but now they were searching the people for something. A grizzled dwarf smith named Mareak recognized them as the "heroes of the Wide" and helped them push to the front of the traffic. The cantankerous dwarf tax collector stationed at the gate, one Nant Thangol, was contemptuous of the rabble but became much more friendly when the Flaming Fist mercenaries identified them indeed as the heroes in question. He let them pass easily and made sure they knew his name. 

The PCs passed through the stinking Outer City with its tanneries and slaughterhouses, and even passed by the walled district of Little Calimshan, and finally, with tired feet, reached Wyrm's Crossing. There they were escorted by Flaming Fist soldiers up into the highest tower of Wyrm's Rock, the fortress at the center of the great bridge. Marshal Ravengard was waiting for them there, and he spoke to the point, citing his belief that Abdel's assassination was the work of the Guild, a "criminal cabal" bred in the slums of the Outer City that "encircles us like a besieging army." 

Ravengard went on. "Its agents and rot are worming into every nook of Baldur's Gate. These monsters find victims wherever the Fist is not. They grow bolder daily. They infest our politics and businesses."

"Abdel Adrian was the Gate's greatest citizen since Balduran. Yet a Guild assassin attacked him in broad daylight. I will crush them for it, but I need your help. I can offer gold, of course, but I also offer positions of rank in the Flaming Fist and the honor the company's tabard affords."

Young Lord Talborn, the Sune cleric, admitted that they'd also been approached by Imbralyn Skoond, which interested Ravengard. He said Imbralyn was "the right-hand man" of Lord Torlin Silvershield, one of Baldur's Gates dukes, a patriar of great esteem, and the High Artificer of Gond. Gond, the Wonderbringer, the god of invention, craft, and labor, was the city's greatest patron deity. Although Ravengard seemed to have no quarrel with Silvershield, he said the duke was aligned with the Watch and the Upper City almost exclusively and does not approve of his methods.

Ultimately, the PCs were hesitant to accept Ravengard's immediate campaign against this Guild—presumably a crime syndicate and thieves' guild—but the marshal said that he suspects the Guild of harboring dark arcane powers as well. Perhaps they could help ferret them out. He offered them quarters in Wyrm's Crossing and some authority on behalf of the Flaming Fist.

Despite their misgivings, the PCs agreed to aid him at least in the first step (and in doing so would likely appraise his "side" of these political doings): the shutting down of two gambling dens.

• The Oasis, located in Little Calimshan, in the Outer City.
• The Low Lantern, located in the Lower City.

And so they settled into their austere, minimally-comfortable quarters in the baracks of the Wyrm's Rock garrison. To rest for the night, to think, and to wonder what they'd gotten involved in. A murderous, supernatural event had occurred in full view of one of the people of the Sword Coast's most populous city, and the mystery it presented was clearly layers thick.

The only certainty: blood had been shed, and likely more to come.