A Shadow over Baldur's Gate (IC)

[manwithaplan]

The Black Dragon Gate.

In reality it wasn't as ominous, nor as dangerous, as its name would make it sound. The ink-like dragon was doubtless the most despicable of its kind, puerile among its more sporting brethren and with a turbulent temperament. It was foul enough to be deceitful and cruel in its victories, yet vile enough to be dishonest and cowardly in its failings. Eager to execrate and never hesitant for trepidation, its hatred and fear revolved around each other with its ego like a most evil perichoresis. The gate that was to endorse such a beast, then, would hope to represent a similar threat to the health and sanity of those who saw it. You would hope for it to project a ferocious peace and jealous security over the people from those who would do them wrong.

But the Black Dragon Gate was a portcullis. A fairly large portcullis, in its defence, and with an armed guard on either side. But even those pay-by-hour men, with their standard-fit scale mail on and their inspection-worthy weapons at their sides, didn't strike fear into the heart of a passer-by as a pitch-black draconic beast might. This is the first impression you get from the legendary city of Baldur's Gate as you top a crest and see it for the first time. Travellers of all sort go in and out, some with trade carts and others with families. The bustle is constant, and the marks are plenty. Few look over their shoulder in the city of Balduran.

The morning sun waits behind you, casting a shadow down the hill and towards the Black Dragon Gate.

What do you do?

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Shadow sighed with relief. He was glad to see his destination finally. He took a moment to take in the view. He knew the city was large, but it seemed bigger than he had imagined. He felt a little unnerved looking at the gate as if he had a bad memory but it failed to register properly.


He continued on, adjusting his backpack as he walked. Shadow had taken on the guise of a human male the previous night, with brown hair and eyes. He began to mull over names in the back of his head as he continued his walking. He still hadn't decided.

He kept an eye out for any shops or landmarks as he passed. Shadow was looking for an Inn, just about any Inn so he could get off his feet and take a break.

"one day all this will be yours" he mused to himself. He wasn't sure he believed it, but time would tell.

[manwithaplan]

"Good morning, sir!"

One of the guards' proud voices brushes over you as you pass through the gate.

On his pauldrons you spot a crest; a red triangle with the two bottom corners cut, and a clenched fist of similar colour in the middle surrounded by a burning yellow flame.

You recognise the symbol of the Flaming Fist, a once-famous mercenary company who now act as the policing and military force for Baldur's Gate.
Baldur's Gate is big. Surprisingly big. The gate has taken you out of the patchwork field of farms and homes outside its walls, and into the Lower City, where you move among crowds of day servants and tradesman. You're surprised that nobody draws closer and tries to sell you something as you go by. Perhaps you can't hear them over the hustle and bustle. The many stone and brick buildings around you are square-shaped and hardly new, and all of the roads (but moreso the alleys) seem to be sloping downwards on your left and upwards on your right, heading respectively to the docks and the Upper City.

Regardless, it's not difficult to find much of anything inside the Gate. Very quickly you find yourself having to choose between a number of inns to lay your head.

All of these are in the Lower City. The list may not necessarily be exhaustive.

The Blade and Stars: A middle-grade establishment with an interesting signboard. It depicts a scimitar held by a human female hand, with apparently enchanted twinkling stars drifting slowly around the blade on a black background. The inn itself is very long and tall, two stories in height. You can tell simply by the gruff and armoured dwarf standing outside with arms folded that this structure takes its security seriously.

The Ruby Flask: A smaller, less-maintained looking thing with no obvious security. The flaky beige walls are offset by windows of ruby red glass, impressively, though one of the panes is cracked and one of them is a normal glassy colour. This one you find slightly closer to the docks, and the door is a little bit unhinged.

The Brass Shield: This one is closer to the Upper City, and true to form, is painted largely in a nice deep brown shade. It's almost a longhouse; stretching across two lots, and at least two stories, though if so they're certainly very big stories. The door is large and heavy, there's a strict-looking fence on the outside, and everything looks prim and proper.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

The Blade and Stars in Lower City seemed to fit Shadow the best. It seemed to have the right combination of location and security that was (hopefully) at a reasonable price. Shadow tips his hat at the dwarf as he makes he way inside hoping to secure a room for the foreseeable future.

"Morning."

[manwithaplan]

The dwarf didn't respond beyond a curt nod of his head, not fazed by your appearance as you push your way through the doors and into the Blade and Stars.

"Ayy, here's a new one! Watch where you're swingin' them things, mate!"

The call, which came from an old and homely Elven woman from behind the bar, perked the ears of a few patrons. More than one turned to look at you as you came in, eyeing your weapons as much as your demeanour. The Blade and Stars is by its nature a haven of uncommon folk; the poor weren't so wealthy, and the rich adventurers of the world wouldn't settle for something like this after their first successful travel. In one corner of the floor, which was organised with a number of square tables that weren't perfectly lined up, two guardsmen similar to those you saw before are sitting, helmets off, playing some sort of card game. Elsewhere in the room an older man sits and drinks alone, while a far younger fellow sits close to the door in an unusual blue robe and scribes notes on a flowing scroll as he sips from the depths of a mug.

Doorways and staircases are to one side, while the Elf-run bar is on your right. Her attention remains on you as she waits for a response, smiling wide as she continues to fishhook the tankards at her bar with one finger, flip them numerous times into the waiting grip of her other hand, and deftly clean them out with a damp cloth. There are numerous stools in front of her, all free.

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

Shadow nods towards the elf and makes his way to one of the open stools at the bar. He does his best to show her a smile.


"Mostly for show. Mostly." he gave her a sly winked. "Adventuring and whatnot can requires some pointy tools of the trade."

"You can call me Jimmy." he offered. "When you have a moment could I get an ale and a nice room say for about a week? Please and thank you." He asked.


Shadow hoped they had a vacancy. He liked that off duty guards were hanging around, an extra measure of security.

[manwithaplan]

She gives you a wily smile, seeming to lift her leg somewhat under the counter. There's a metallic chink as she hooks something with her foot and then kicks up, sending a mug up into the air where she catches it and moves to fill it.

"Three gold, five silver, four...forget the coppers, if you're paying upfront. Need anythin' else today?"

[Ragnarok'n'Roll]

"You've quite a talent there. Fancy hands and feet. Equally fancy smile." Shadow comments.

He pulls out the coins from his pack and lays them on the counter, including the four copper.

"I think that covers my needs - thanks for the help."

Shadow waits patiently for his ale and sips it slowly. In the back of his mind he starts to plan out his next steps. He motions towards the young man in blue "hrm, an unusual color. Any idea what his deal is? tax collector ? magistrate ? adventurer ?" Shadow asks the barkeep absently.

[manwithaplan]

"Oh, honey..." She seems to brush you off.

"Bills have to be paid. When you got enough years, you teach yourself some draw cards."

Your ale's done, and she hands it to you with a chuckle as you continue to talk. What follows is a most furtive whisper.

"That's Ferntin, a Red Wizard in disguise! He's swapped his colours to throw us all off."

And then a little snigger, to the side.

"Nah, dunno. He did say he was a Ferntin, but that's all. Looks like...yeah it does look like magic writing, hey."