Chapter II: Stopped at the Gate

Gregorotto · March 13

Past is Prologue: The Final Approach

10 Tarkash, Year of Three Ships Sailing, 1492 DR
Stonyeyes District, Outer City,
Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast

Baldur's Gate is anything but welcoming.

In the tenday previous, Elturel has been sucked into Avernus, First Layer of the Nine Hells. Mage Gaerzil Thallander, envoy Keryn Donnathlascen, inn proprietor and former Hellrider Gwynevere, and former Avowed Hravin Snaefoss joined forces with a young girl much wiser than her years would suggest, Dara, and her guardian and goat, Ghorrin and Clyde, in gathering survivors and creating a caravan. By collecting resources from nearby locales and saving refugees from devils, cultists, and themselves, they created trust by which a caravan could successfully leave for Baldur's Gate. But the following morning, tragedy struck: a murderer hid in their midsts, a cultist named Vollis Foote. After killing a man possessed by a spirit, she sought further bloodshed but was stopped by lethal force. The caravan, led by Vasha Hall, embraced hope and headed onward, towards Baldur's Gate. After five days, they arrived...

... only to be met with jeers, fears, and cheers at threats of violence aimed at them. Baldur's Gate is bad, everyone knows this. Gwen has heard stories, and Hravin, Keryn, and Gaerzil might as well be locals: but this is particularly egregious, this hostility to "refugees."

"Go back to your Hell hole!"

"Murderers!"

"We don't want your kind here!"

"Oh sure, you can stay with me... if I can keep the goat!"

The road to Baldur's Gate curves as the Outer City continues: past Sow's Foot, Little Calimshan, Norchapel, and finally, all the way through Stonyeyes to the Basilisk Gate, the massive eastern gate of the city. Never in their lives have Keryn, Gaerzil, and Hravin seen this gate shut, but there it is. Outside are groups gathered along the wall and protesters forming all around them, calling them the same names as the caravan from Elturel was called. And then Gwen realizes: she knows some of these people. The look on Vasha's face, on the miller Ippon's face, on the smith Wellum's face, all indicate that these are more refugees, another caravan: so many caravans!

The gates are shut because so many have tried to get in at the Gate, and they are being intentionally stopped.

This is a full-blown crisis, and Keryn can see why: Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard was in Elturel when it sunk into the Nine Hells.

Fortunately for him, he is a known entity: the Lords' Alliance takes care of their own. A contingent of Flaming Fist guards approach him, and ask him to come with them. Though he tries to explain the situation, they say they don't care: that Stingblade Halfsbottle would like a report. What he does manage to do is request a few of his companions come with him: and so Gaerzil, Hravin, and Gwen are all escorted into a side door of the Basilisk Gate. Before they go, Vasha and Dara reassure them.

"I'll keep things orderly. I know a few souls out her in Stonyeyes, I can manage." She winks as she can, but looks nervously back at the card carrying her husband, Segren Hall, still in a coma.

If this is the best they can do, they'll have to come out swinging to negotiate their way through the gate.

Past is Prologue: Protectors of the Realm

10 Tarkash, Year of Three Ships Sailing, 1492 DR
Eastway District, Lower City,
Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast

A call like this can only mean one thing: they've been activated by the Lords' Alliance.

Iolanthe Xanthe has many jobs, given her job as a troubadour: part of that is keeping a finger on the pulse of the Gate. It has been six days since rumors of Elturel singing into a portal into the Nine Hells arrived in Baldur's Gate, and tension only rises as authorities do little to quell those rumors: indeed, those same rumors state that Grand Duke Ravengard is dead, leaving the city in the hands of the incompetent and the craven. Whatever the truth of those rumors, Io is but a mere minstrel, playing the streets and taverns of Baldur's Gate. As the days dance along, the rumors get worse. The tension grows. Those of Elturelian origin are cat-called, mistreated, abused. Those first few groups of refugees confirm the truth: and that's when the panic starts.

Sometimes eyes yearn to do more than merely look; ears to do more than listen.

For her part, Mishka Strakeln hears and sees relatively little by comparison. Always working on her next project, often at the whims of others, she is somewhat insulated from the panic and tension, but she knows injustice when she feels it. The streets grow colder, darker, and the authorities more bleak in their handling of justice. "Pay it no mind," says the voice in her head: but how can she?

Then comes the call: a letter from Hecktoheironimous "Hex" Halfsbottle, requesting that they come to the Basilisk Gate in Eastway immediately, posthaste. Come armed and ready. Such a stark letter suggests something is happening that they're needed for: but what?

The first to arrive are Io and Misty, coming to the Basilisk Gate and presenting the Flaming Fist stationed at the unusually closed gate their leader. Led to a side door, the duo, who have a passing familiarity with one another and their reputation, having only met a handful of times and always in a professional capacity. Taken to a small room, it has a window open to the Gray Harbor and the slow descent of the spring-tide sun to the far western edge of the Sword Coast's horizon beyond the hills. At the desk sits a middle-aged woman of auburn hair and a face suggesting middle age, a life lived hard but well. Dressed in full Flaming Fist armor, she signs paperwork and does not look up at them at their arrival; no, that is Hex's job.

Part of Misty sinks as she spies the gnome standing in the shadows of the corner, emerging with a dark smile on his face beneath his bulbous nose. "Good afternoon, Cloak Xanthe; Cloak Strakeln. Thank you for your tidy arrival. We have but one more to wait for before we can be—" He is interrupted by the door opening behind them, a group of three Flaming Fist centurions bringing in four more souls: a moon elf they partly recognize as a fellow Lords' Alliance agent, and his companions, a tiefling, a half-orc, and a human priest of some sort.

The woman at the desk does not look up as she speaks. "You're dismissed, soldiers. Go back to the eastern mouth of the Gate and await my commands. They'll come before I retire for the day."

The door shuts, and silence falls as she continues writing her report. And then, suddenly, her signature goes wide, her quill goes to her inkpot, and she sighs, stretching her gauntleted hand.

"Welcome to Baldur's Gate. Is it everything you've hoped for?"

10 Tarkash, Year of Three Ships Sailing, 1492 DR
The Basilisk Gate,
Baldur's Gate, Sword Coast

The woman at the desk stands, setting her arms behind her back. "My name is Daryn Falburn, Flame of the Flaming Fist. To the best of my ability I am attempting to keep order in this city, on all sides: refugee and citizen. No one has done wrong here, but we are all victims of this crisis, so heads are running hot and not everyone can get what they want. Once we confirmed the situation in Elturel, I had my cadets keep an eye out for an elf of your standing, Cloak Donnathlascen. Undoubtedly you know your superior here; to the rest of you, this is Hecktoheironimous Halfsbottle, Stingblade of the Lords' Alliance and representative of Baldur's Gate in matters greater than those of state. Let's cut the chitchat and get to work."

The gnome sighs. "Must we hasten so quickly? We don't even know Keryn's new friends' names!"

Falburn does not even spare him a glance. "They could be named Meek, Mok, and Mork, for all I care. To business: I first need confirmation of what you saw on the road here, what has become of Grand Duke Ravengard, and your role in creating this caravan. Secondly, I already know what you hope, because every caravan hopes it: we loosen our rules, open our gates, and let you in. This can be arranged, if you bring me the right materials. I need you to do the following for me, by harbrightCommon slang for the period just after dawn.: a full accounting of each refugee with their name, occupation, age, and criminal record. Confirmation from a cleric or lay-healer that resides within Baldur’s Gate confirming that each refugee is free of any disease. Arrangements must be made with inns, temples, or relatives that are willing to house the refugees: they can’t sleep on the streets. The refugees must have some arrangement to do work for the benefit of the city. Finally, and this is bad news for some: you must not bring in your cart or beasts of burden. Whatever goods you have you are responsible for without help of horse."

Hex shakes his head. "An impossible task, even in the best of circumstances, particularly this late into the day."

Falburn sighs, seeming to know this, despite her irritation. "Cloaks Xanthe and Strakeln, you are to assist them in this matter. I suggest you find clergy here within the city prepared to check every member of your party and make sure they are safe and clean, then my associates will let you back through the Basilisk Gate with special compensation. You four will also be allowed to stay within the Lower City for the night, if you so choose, but your caravan must remain outside. I like it even less than you do, I assure you."

What is this?

Out of Character

Welcome to Chapter 2? Is it everything you had hoped for?

Feel free to ask questions, introduce yourselves, explain your plight, and prepare for a fetch quest. I will require no rolls for this, you succeed at everything; Baldurians, feel free to create NPCs you know to help you with this task like clerics and paladins and such, or Flaming Fist members or bureaucrats.

You might infer that this is an impossible task. There's a reason for that.

Edited March 19 by Gregorotto (see edit history)

Kamishiro_Rin · March 14

Iolanthe ‘Io’ Xanthe

Level 1 Half-Elf Entertainer Lore Bard

AC: 13 (Dex 2 + Leather 11); HP: 9/9 (1d8 + 1); Speed: 30 ft.

Proficiency Bonus: +2

STR: 8 (–1); DEX: 14 (+2); CON:save (+1) 12 (+1); INT: 14 (+2); WIS: 12 (+1); CHA: 17 (+3)

Bardic Inspiration (d6): 3/3

Spell Save DC: 13; Spell Attack: +5; Cantrips Known (4); Spells Known (4 + 1)

Spell Slots: 1st2/2; 2nd—; 3rd—; 4th—; 5th—; 6th—; 7th—; 8th—; 9th—

Senses: darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11, passive Insight 13, passive Investigation 12; Tools: disguise kit, guitar, violin, lute, her own voice; Armor: light armor; Weapons: simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords; Languages: Common, Elven, Dwarven; Size: Medium; Age: 23; Height: 5′–3″ (159 cm); Weight: 106 lb. (48.18 kg); Hair: Blonde; Eyes: Lavender

IC (‘My thoughts . . .’; “My words . . .”; My actions . . .)

“Mishka, good to see you again,” Io greeted her fellow Alliance member, and then nodded in greeting to the other, “And I believe that I’ve met Keryn in passing a few time—good to see you, again, too.”

She then turned to Keryn’s companions. “I’m Io! Nice to meet you all. I’ve been to Baldur’s gate a couple times in the past, as well as Elturel, and I’ve been staying here for the last several days. But I’ll have to defer to any Baldurians amongst you with regards to the city. Otherwise, I look forward to working with you all and place myself into your care!”

Her greeting is friendly and finishes with a flourish and a bow.

“I’ll start by heading over to the adimittedly small temple of Corellon Larethian, where I can try to convince them to take in some refugees, and then I’ll pen a song or two that I can use to help convince some patrons and passers-by to open their hearts and more importantly, their homes, to the refugees out there.”

Pulling out a quill and some paper, she asks for a run-down of their heroics, daring-do, and the events that have devastated the Elturians.

OOC

Movement: —

Action: —

Bonus Action: —

Rection: —

Interact-with-Object: —

(To Whom It May Concern . . .)

Player Notification Tags go Here

PureChance · March 14

Keryn Donnathlascen

Moon Elf Rogue

AC: 14 (Leather) | HP: 24/24 () | HD: 3/3 | Speed: 30 ft. | Initiative: +5 (Dex&Cha)
Senses: Passive Perception 12, Insight 14, Investigation 10. Darkvision 60ft.
Str: 10 (+0) | Dex: 17 (+3) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 10 (+0) | Cha: 14 (+2)
Languages: Common, Elven, Chondathan, Illuskan, Draconic, Thieves' Cant

In the aftermath of the funeral Keryn is pleased to have such a good turnout for his impromptu class. Gods know they will all need both the strength and the discipline to get through what is to come. Hopefully they may find the same peace in it as Keryn as well, the stretching almost meditative. It is only by chance that they make it without further trials - perhaps Ilmater looks elsewhere, or perhaps he has already taken the weight upon himself.

Keryn looks over the huge stone gates, closed and forbidding in all senses of the word. It's easy to understand why, with the jeers around them all, run through with undercurrents of fear and violence. Reactions such as these were exactly why the common folk needed a firm hand to steer them. The flaming Fist seemed to be doing exactly that, as they came to escort him and his companions through. Apparently only him and his immediate companions, he realises in slight shock. Soon the reason becomes apparent. Standing in the austere stone office of this Daryl Falburn he hears out her, and his superior Hex. Io he has passing familiarity with, and returns her greeting. The other Cloak remains yet unknown, but hopefully will prove competent given their upcoming assistance.

"Thank-you," he begins, "given the circumstances I shall be as brief as possible in my report of events, and instead provide a full written account at the earliest opportunity. As you know, I had been chosen to accompany the Grand Duke to Elturgard. I can confirm that the city vanished moments after his entry, and him with it. I do not know if he still lives." He lets the information, and obvious implications stand. The worst possible outcome. Loss of the highest authority without confirmation of his death will surely lead to infighting amongst the shortsighted. With a slight bow, he excuses himself from the office, and heads into the corridor for a brief conclave.

"It is lucky you are here to record this, Io," he replies when the bard asks for their tales. "Our historian came to an unfortunate end. Perhaps you could make use of the goods we gathered for him at least - fine parchment, ink and a pegasus quill. He seemingly believed the tools made the artist. The worst of the stories are true - this is not a heroic tale but rather one of desperation and loss. Even amongst the outskirts we still found yet more Infernal cultists."

He turns to the dwarf, and introduces himself. "I'm not sure we've met before Cloak Strakeln, but my given name is Keryn. It seems we'll be working closely, and Cloak Donnathlascen is a lot to say each time." 'Not to mention how you folk butcher it,' he adds silently. "My companions here are Gwynevere, Gaerzil and Hravin," he indicates in turn.

"If you can work on securing some lodging that will start to help, Io. If you could, whilst in the temple district, perhaps stop by the Shrine of Suffering as well? We have a Chosen of the Broken God amongst our caravan, which may encourage them to offer a little more aid. Though I imagine they are already stretched thin."

"Meanwhile I will talk to a few folk I know and see about securing work. Vasha seems to have a good handle on most of the travellers, so should be able to put together that charter without difficulty. I don't suppose you could check for disease Hravin?" He pauses as he recalls the task, "No, of course it cannot be ourselves. Perhaps a trade in service then. Let me know if any of you seek introductions - I may be able to help."

Once they had all agreed upon tasks Keryn hurried to visit Lord Elmflight, hoping to persuade the Elven merchant to hire on a few temporary labourers and agree to temporarily house the same in a warehouse...

OOC

Action: -

Bonus Action: —

Movement: -

Reaction: Absorb Elements if triggered

Object Interaction: -

Actions & Resources

Actions:

Rapier . Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 + 3 piercing damage.

Booming Blade . Melee Weapon Attack: +1d8 Thunder damage if creature moves.

Dagger [2] . Thrown/Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, ranged 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 1d4 + 3 piercing damage.

Shortbow . Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 + 3 piercing damage.

Bonus Actions:

Cunning Action . Your quick thinking and agility allow you to move and act quickly. You can take a bonus action on each of your turns in combat. This action can be used only to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide action.

Steady Aim . You give yourself advantage on your next attack roll on the current turn. You can use this bonus action only if you haven't moved during this turn, and after you use the bonus action, your speed is 0 until the end of the current turn.

Reactions:

Absorb Elements 1/1

Class Features:

Sneak Attack . Once per turn, you can deal an extra [2d6] damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll. [You also gain an additional way to use your Sneak Attack; ... you are within 5 feet of it, no other creatures are within 5 feet of you, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll]

Fancy Footwork . During your turn, if you make a melee attack against a creature, that creature can't make opportunity attacks against you for the rest of your turn.

Edited March 18 by PureChance (see edit history)

Kavonde · March 14

Gaerzil | HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11
Spell Slots: 4/4
Active Effects: N/A

Gaerzil is honestly more surprised by the large number of other refugees crowding the gates than he is by the city's citizenry's selfish and hostile attitude. He hadn't realized there had been so many other groups on the road ahead of them, and honestly, that thought makes the young wizard a little annoyed. Here he was, one of the most promising spellcasters of his generation, eye witness to a breathtakingly powerful magical phenomenon, and yet he seems to be among the last of the survivors of Elturel's disappearance to reach civilization. The story must have found its way to Rivalen Blackhand and the other aspiring mages at Sorcerous Sundries by now. No doubt they would already be assembling an expedition to research the event first-hand. Gaerzil would have actually been in a better position to study the event if he'd never left this bloody city in the first place!

He's stewing on this unfair and unjust turn of events when the guards arrive to escort Keryn, himself, Gwen, and Hravin to see some Lords' Alliance mucky-muck or another. He follows, his mood too sour and his mind too focused on his lost opportunity to pay much attention to any of it. The Flaming Fist wants them to jump through some impossible series of hoops before they'll allow their caravan in. Two more Lords' Alliance lackeys will join them in attempting to push this boulder up its hill. One of them is an irritatingly upbeat half-elf woman--Gods, tell me she's not a bard--and the other is a dwarven woman who strikes him as much less abrasive.

The bard, Io, immediately begins talking about visiting a temple to Correlon Larethian to request help. Keryn mentions the Shrine of Suffering, which seems more sensible given that they have one of Ilmater's unfortunate "Chosen" among them.

Despite feeling like this whole endeavor is hopeless from the start, Gaerzil feels compelled to at least offer a suggestion. "I suppose I could speak with Master Blackhand at Sorcerous Sundries to see if he could offer any work. I'm not sure what skills any of our companions possess that would be of any use to the esteemed emporium, but perhaps he might need a new floor-scrubber or two. Or perhaps Clyde could help dispose of old invoices."

Edited March 15 by Kavonde (see edit history)

mildly_competent · March 14

Mishka Strakeln (Dwarven Artificer 1) | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14 | Passive Perception: 13

Active Effects: NA

Spells and Expendables

Expendable	Used	Total	Recharge
Magical Tinkering	0	3	NA
Comprehend Languages (no spell slot used)	0	1	Long Rest
Entangle (no spell slot used)	0	1	Long Rest
Spell Slots Lvl 1	0	2	Long Rest

Prepared Spells:

Level 1: Absorb Elements, Cure Wounds, Tasha's Caustic Brew, Comprehend Languages*, Entangle*.

*Do not count against prepared spells, as they are granted by my Rune Shaper feat.

Mishka had been working on a new set of greaves this morning. It was a long task, requiring careful attention to the appropriate curve at each point, lest the metal cut through padding and bite into its wearer. And the interruption and request for immediate attendance meant that the day's work was all but wasted. The metal had to cool before it was finished, and reheating it appropriately was a nightmareJust gonna go ahead and say openly that I, mildly_competent, don't know the first goddamned thing about metal-working, so am making this up entirely. . But what else could she do? She had made an agreement with Harbek and Hex. When Hex said "jump" Misty said "how high?" Seeing him upon entry, she nods politely, and informs him of the unfortunate situation with the greaves. Somehow she expected that he wouldn't particularly care-- while the gnome loved his work, he approached it more like an enthusiastic hobbyist than a true business owner. Misty got the impression that Hex did not have much to worry about, financially.

Seeing Io on entrance, Mishka smiles warmly, though her eyes remain tired. "Good to see you again, Aye-yoh," she says, truly glad to see the half-elf again. Her accent is thick, and not entirely what you've come to expect of Dwarven speech. She stresses Io's name a bit, as though it did not flow naturally for her, but she had practiced its pronunciation. She's certainly not a native of Baldur's Gate. Io knows that this is because Mishka's mother comes from quite far east. "Your performance after our last journey together, ehrm... four month ago? Was a good show, yes? I enjoyed. But de other lutist, ehhhh..." Mishka teeters one palm back and forth a bit, showing that she was not so impressed with whoever it was Io had performed with. "Kept on tryink to sink louder dan you. Made for competition, not harmony." She holds up her hands, as though backing away. "But I am not musician, maybe dat was intended."

When Flame Falburn makes clear the enormous amount of work that is necessary to allow in the refugees, Mishka raises her eyebrows the tiniest fraction. "What? Dis must be done for all before any can enter?" Generally, Mishka would approve-- but not when it was clearly a tactic meant to delay anyone from being granted entrance. Still, the task was set. Mishka begins planning out her approach. As others speak out their plans, Misty pays close attention, her eyes shifting back and forth from one speaker to the other. Many of the tasks are being handled already. "So, we need accounting, den. Name, job, how old, are dey kriminals. I can write. There are some folk at De Countink House, my Cousin has given dem counsil and healink. I can maybe convince dem to help. Very efficient record-keepers, would be very organized."

Keryn's greeting is the kind of overly formal thing that Misty has grown to expect from other Cloaks and members of the alliance. "Aye, Cloak Keeren Donnadlaskinn," she says, her accent marring the beautiful name even more than one would expect. "I hef heard your name from Aye-yoh, but we hef not met. I am glad to change dat. I... hef heard of your remarkable skill wit da blade. My work hes not left much time for weapons practice... if we will be traveling together, I would love to learn from you, if de opportunity arises."

Mishka makes her way to the Counting House in the Lower City, and does her best to convince some of its employees to aid with the recording and vetting of citizens. It is not an altogether successful venture-- the proprietor is in no way eager to lose any of his own manpower. And the one dwarf there who does recognize Mishka also knows of her mother's longer past but not her more recent exploits. He is disgusted by the remembered cowardice, and refuses to help. But several human employees are willing to help a relative of Harbek's, and they manage to convince the proprietor that these refugees may become worthwhile clients, since they'll likely have to sell off their livestock to enter Baldur's Gate. Possibly even to some of the Counting House's own clientele... While Mishka becomes more and more uncertain in the wisdom of asking these folk for help, at least she does manage to get some help...

OOC

Hey, y'all! So glad to be joining the game. I've played with Grego in the past, and loved it. I think this will be my first time playing with the rest of you, though! Brief notes:

If the text coloring or my attempted accent with Mishka is difficult for anyone, let me know and I will try to adapt. While I'm having fun with it, I don't want it to become a problem for anyone.

The art I currently have for her is temporary-- it's just an initial concept sketch. So hopefully the post format will become prettier with time!

Kyoh · March 14

"You can just call me Gwen," she clarifies after Keryn introduces her. Io and Mishka seem helpful, so Gwen looks forward to seeing more of them. She's suitably impressed that Keryn is connected enough to get them into Baldur's Gate. Though it seems that the task Flame Daryn Falburn has saddled them with is nigh impossible.

"Have there been any law enforcement from Eltugard that arrived since?" Gwen inquires of Daryn Falburn. "Any Hellrider patrols, for example? They would certainly be useful in helping us sort through the refugees." She wonders if the Hellriders would have been granted entrance, or if the Flaming Fist would have kept them outside with the rest of the refugees.

Kamishiro_Rin · March 15

Iolanthe ‘Io’ Xanthe

Level 1 Half-Elf Entertainer Lore Bard

AC: 13 (Dex 2 + Leather 11); HP: 9/9 (1d8 + 1); Speed: 30 ft.

Proficiency Bonus: +2

STR: 8 (–1); DEX: 14 (+2); CON:save (+1) 12 (+1); INT: 14 (+2); WIS: 12 (+1); CHA: 17 (+3)

Bardic Inspiration (d6): 3/3

Spell Save DC: 13; Spell Attack: +5; Cantrips Known (4); Spells Known (4 + 1)

Spell Slots: 1st2/2; 2nd—; 3rd—; 4th—; 5th—; 6th—; 7th—; 8th—; 9th—

Senses: darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11, passive Insight 13, passive Investigation 12; Tools: disguise kit, guitar, violin, lute, her own voice; Armor: light armor; Weapons: simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords; Languages: Common, Elven, Dwarven; Size: Medium; Age: 23; Height: 5′–3″ (159 cm); Weight: 106 lb. (48.18 kg); Hair: Blonde; Eyes: Lavender

IC (‘My thoughts . . .’; “My words . . .”; My actions . . .)

"It is lucky you are here to record this, Io," he replies when the bard asks for their tales. "Our historian came to an unfortunate end. Perhaps you could make use of the goods we gathered for him at least - fine parchment, ink and a pegasus quill. He seemingly believed the tools made the artist. The worst of the stories are true - this is not a heroic tale but rather one of desperation and loss. Even amongst the outskirts we still found yet more Infernal cultists."

“I shall humbly accept these items, take good care of them, and put them to good use,” Io says with seriousness and humility. “You honor me to entrust them to me. I’ll go over your notes thoroughly, too. I want my song to be compelling, but accurate, as well.”

"If you can work on securing some lodging that will start to help, Io. If you could, whilst in the temple district, perhaps stop by the Shrine of Suffering as well? We have a Chosen of the Broken God amongst our caravan, which may encourage them to offer a little more aid. Though I imagine they are already stretched thin."

“That’s good to know, Cloak Keryn,” Io says, “Thank you! I’m going to be going ‘door-to-door’, so to speak, in the temple district, regardless, but I figured I’d start where I’m most welcome, and now I know where I can drop a good word to gain some more welcome, too!”

Did the one Keryn introduced as Gaerzil just sneer at her?

“Er . . . it’s nice to meet you, Gaerzil,” Io offers hesitantly. “I’m sure this situation hasn’t been kind to you or your fellows. Let’s do our best!”

"Your performance after our last journey together, ehrm... four month ago? Was a good show, yes? I enjoyed. But de other lutist, ehhhh..." Mishka teeters one palm back and forth a bit, showing that she was not so impressed with whoever it was Io had performed with. "Kept on tryink to sink louder dan you. Made for competition, not harmony." She holds up her hands, as though backing away. "But I am not musician, maybe dat was intended."

“Thank you so much!” Io beams. “Unfortunately, I had to part ways with them not long after that. You’re right, they were ‘competing’ with me for dominance rather than trying to harmonize, as they ought to have been. We ended up having a big row about it backstage right before a big performance, and they accused me of not knowing my place and claimed to be the ‘lead singer’ and such. Anyway, I headed back to Neverwinter after that,” she lamented.

"You can just call me Gwen," she clarifies after Keryn introduces her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gwen,” Io greets her back. “The task seems impossible, but as they say, ‘you miss all the targets you don’t loose an arrow at’. The situation is dire, but let’s not lose hope!”

Io will similarly greet Hravin when or if he introduces himself.

Once dismissed, the first thing Io will do is begin thoroughly perusing the report Keryn submitted. From there, she’ll begin formulating a song.

Making her way down to the temple district, she’ll stop into the temple of Corellon and appeal to them to let some of the refugees in and inquire as to what conditions they need met and how many they can spare space for.

Her next stop is the Shrine of Suffering. She’ll explain to them that a Chosen of the Broken God is amongst the flock of refugees.

Once she’s done those two, she’ll work her way from temple to shrine and from shrine to temple begging and pleading for their help.

All the while, she’ll have her new song stewing in her head. As the afternoon settles into evening, it’s time to debut her new song at the local tavern where she earns her room and board.

Upon the day Elturel fell from sight,
Its grand duke vanished, swallowed by the void.
Amongst the chaos, flames and fear alight,
Six heroes, brave, by fates were then employed.

Gaerzil, Grug, and fair Gwen's strength combined,
With Keryn, Kilros, Silvia by side,
Fought Lemures in burning inn confined,
And through the peril, friendship they did bide.

They fed a caravan, midst hunger's snare,
Met Vollis, stopped a rite to commune Dis.
Gaerzil's missiles rent the Vrock midair,
A victory that echoed through abyss.

Errands for one whose end came with a burst,
Their path, though strange, by courage was coerced.

This band of six, through trial and through flame,
Did forge a bond unbreakable and true.
Their deeds, though small, like whispers of their name,
Grew into legends that within hearts grew.

For every soul they saved from fiery fate,
For every meal secured against despair,
Their story wove through threads of love and hate,
A tapestry of hope in darkest air.

Yet Vollis' ritual, sinister and grim,
Was shattered by their will to overcome.
Gaerzil's spell, a deadly seraphim,
Vanquished the Vrock, its beating wings fell dumb.

In errands' grip, they served annoyance's whim,
Till bursting chest did signal twilight's dim.

Elturel's loss, a backdrop to their tale,
Did cast long shadows, painting heroes' quest.
For in this world where darkness might prevail,
Such acts of valor put to noble test.

Their union formed in fire and in strife,
Together stood against infernal breed.
From saving lives to ending Vrockish life,
Their bond was forged in every selfless deed.

When night did fall and chest did burst asunder,
The stars above bore witness to their plight.
Their journey marked by magic, awe, and wonder,
In lands where evil dared to snuff out light.

So sing of six who braved the night's harsh weather,
In Elturel's tale, they're woven deep together.

[Thanks to Kavonde for the bullet-point list I fed into the AI Poem Generator]

OOC

Movement: temple to shrine and shrine to temple, then to her tavern that evening

Action: begging, pleading, persuading, and singing

Bonus Action: —

Rection: —

Interact-with-Object: —

(To Whom It May Concern . . .)

Player Notification Tags go Here

Edited March 15 by Kamishiro_Rin (see edit history)

Kavonde · March 15

Gaerzil | HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11
Spell Slots: 4/4
Active Effects: N/A

Gaerzil lags behind a bit as his colleagues begin to split off and pursue their individual missions. He looks at Gwen and Hravin and offers them a shrug. "If either of you would like to come with me to Sorcerous Sundries, I wouldn't mind the company. Just be careful not to raise your voice in the section where they keep the sensitive manuscripts."

With that, he heads off into the southeastern portion of the Lower City to speak to the owner and proprietor of the Realms' greatest emporium of arcane artifacts, blessed baubles, and conjured curious, all in order to uselessly inquire about the possibility of his former employer--a man who Gaerzil parted ways with not three weeks ago--employing a few exhausted and bedraggled refugees. Yes, this will go well.

OOC

I'll roll a Charisma check to give us a broad idea of how badly Gaery screws this up.

dwargstof · March 17

Name: Hravin Snaefoss | Race/Class: Human Cleric 2 | HP: 21/21 AC: 14 PP: 13 SS: 3/3

Hravin chuckled and put on a wry smile at Keryn's request. "Check for diseases? Baldur's Gate collects them like trinkets, already! I'd be more worried about the folks in the caravan catching something than anyone here bringing something through the gates." A shrug, the universal sign of resigned acceptance. "But indeed, our eyes and ears have already been decieved far too many times. I'll check for both disease and darkness coursing through each vein, if I must, lest another demon wear the flesh of a presumed ally."

Hravin's paranoia was on high alert. It seemed that each step of this journey took him closer to Candlekeep, that dusty den where the Thieves of Thought manipulated the shadows themselves. And now the parasites of Baator walked freely out through the hole Elturel left behind, making it difficult to determine who to trust. Keryn, Gwen and Gaerzil, of course, seemed to be all he had now and his mind would stew on that for some time. He thought of his lost brother, what suffering he might be made to endure at this very moment, which brought with it all the moments of conflict, hurtful words, and bad decisions that had arisen between them. It wasn't useful thinking, Hravin knew. Dwelling on what ifs did not change the past. Better to look at what is.

Task set, he made his plan known. "I can provide some exams myself, but with help, we can be quick and thorough. No doubt there are more refugees coming behind our lot. Falburn, do you have a runner fleet of foot that can get a message to Harborside Hospital? Get this message to one Qan-Di Cixin, a cleric of considerable skill and knowledge of maladies far beyond those that afflict only the flesh..." Producing a small quill and paper from his pouch, Hravin scribbled a note.

The Message: Qan-Di, you must come at once. I have returned to Baldur's Gate with a caravan from near Elturel that has been through a considerable ordeal, and must be examined prior to entry. Any individuals you can spare that practice the healing arts would be ideal, as my companions could use aid, as well. It would also be good to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstancs. Your friend in Truth ~ Hravin

With any luck, the message would reach Qan-Di within the hour and Hravin would have the first few of their group examined by then. He turned to his companions. "And your health, friends? All of you fair well, feel strong?"

There were newcomers, though Hravin took his tasks very seriously, he made effort to at least be polite. "Io, Keryn minces no words. I am Hravin Snaefoss. Your talents are certainly welcome in these dark days. Be sure that your tales and tributes speak only truth, and we will have much to discuss!" The former Avowed resisted the urge to requiest a song or poem. There would be time enough for that later, he hoped.

At Mishka's mentioned of record keeping, Hravin's ears perked up. "I see you are also a fan of bureaucratic red tape," he said with subtle sarcasm, "if there is any way I can help with the count or information gathering while performing my duties, please, do not hesitate to ask. Our goal needs to be getting these worn and weary folks in safe shelter as soon as possible."

Soon enough, Hravin was with the travelers, seeing each one by one and looking for signs of phsyical, mental and spiritual ailments. Their faces were painted with stress, bodies heavy with exhaustion. Hravin carefully examined each, finding the work beneficial in keeping his mind off all that had transpired thus far.

Amidst a sea of people, Hravin had never felt more alone.

OOC

Dr. Snaefoss, at your service!

Hravin sends a note to an old friend at Harborside, hoping it can reach her in time to be useful.

Action:

Bonus:

Movement:

Gregorotto · March 19

Flame Falburn sighs, shaking her head. "Dark times indeed. From the refugees, such a rumor is one thing: but you were part of his delegation. That changes things. The other dukes will need to be informed, and we'll have to call in our leaders across the Sword Coast and beyond so the Flaming Fist can keep the peace. We can't afford to have another coup attempt right now, of all times." Hex nods sagely, eyes twinkling. Hravin's question is a fair one: do they have any runners? It might make the job easier. "If you have an address, I can have any parcel or parchment delivered within the hour." Gwen's question seems to stump Flame Falburn, who ponders it. "If there have been any who tried to pass themselves off as Hellriders, Knights of the Companion, or any such member of a priesthood, I am as of yet unawares of it. There are a few who might have entered the city before we closed the gates, but they have not made themselves known. I'll check with the Elturgardian denizens: several people have emigrated to the Gate and added that to their surnames to try and disconnect themselves from those zealots in Elturel, no offense." It is true that the zealotry is distasteful to many, but it hurts nonetheless.

Soon, letters are sent, but before they leave, Falburn has a final request. "You'll only be permitted in and out of the Basilisk Gate once, so I suggest you conclude all business here in the Lower City before you head out to your friends in Stonyeyes. You'll be repermitted to speak with me come morn, but not before. Are we clear? Cloaks, this sadly must also include you despite you being subjects of the Grand Dukes. The law must be obeyed, no matter what the spirit of it."

Sorcerous Sundries offers a good central hub, so it is agreed as they head on, they will meet back up at Sorcerous Sundries. Before they leave, Hex pulls aside Keryn, Io, and Mishka. "Do remember your loyalties. No matter how much you may want to help these people, we serve the higher power called the city: your loyalty comes to Baldur's Gate before it comes to the door of any beggars, friends or no."

With that, they head out.

They each head in different directions.

Mishka, joined by Hravin, head to the Counting House, where accountants are in supply but unfortunately out of house: as it is not tax season, the accountants have largely gone home early, including Mishka's cousin, but a friend of his offers to help Mishka. A halfling by the name of Argos Thimblewithers, he is bespeckled and sassy, wisps of gray at the corner of his ears and hanging sideburns betraying his age on an otherwise youthful yet worldweary face. He will account for the group's goods and names, if he is compensated. Mishka offers the assurance of the Lords' Alliance, which is all it takes. A small success, but one none the less. He goes with them.

Keryn, meanwhile, heads to the merchant fleet of Lord Elmflight, a patriar who trades by sea. His warehouse is large, but he has a small office on the side with the scent of elderberry and sandalwood, and is still in. Almost out the door, Keryn manages to speak to him on congenial terms and convinces him that taking on new employees, albeit temporary ones given their nature as refugees, with little effort. Yet he does not agree to do so until two points are met: he meets them (and he is unwilling to do so tonight, given he will not be able to reenter the Gate once he leaves), and they secure their entry. He cannot agree to give them employment until he knows they are going to be given entry: this creates a point of contention. Will Flame Falburn agree to this?

Iolanthe begins her sojourn at the temple of Corellon, goddess of her people, and there secures quite readily an agreement to not just house the refugees but heal them of any ailments they might need... tomorrow. That is the recurring theme at most of the temples she visits: Tyr, Torm, Chauntea, Yondallah, Moradin, Waukeen, Tymora, Helm. Each one agrees to do what they can, to do the right thing, but they have duties they must attend to this evenfeast, be they official business of vespers at twilight. The sole exception is the Shrine of Suffering, not far from Sorcerous Sundries, who agrees not just to go, but to go ahead of the group. Three priests of Ilmater, all curious at the appearance of a Chosen of Ilmater, all are quite curious to meet Dara, as is Iolanthe given the way people are speaking of her.

As they all begin to head back, Gaerzil has spent hours at Sorcerous Sundries, Gwen at his back.

As they enter, the gnome behind the desk looks up at him and sighs. "Rivalen, Gaerzil's come crawling back." She winks at him. "And he's brought a half-orc with him."

Loud muttering comes from the back, as a group of boxes fall and out comes curses in the language of Halruaa. Rivalen Blackhand is a native of that returned land, a native of the demiplane that housed them for the century after the Spellplague who moved to Baldur's Gate as an unofficial envoy of his people. Buying Sorcerous Sundries, one of the Lower City's finest establishments for over a century, he set up shop here and has become famous for his mutterings, his genius in mixing ingredients, and his capricious nature. When he emerges from the back, the former and the latter are on full display.

"Confounded mad man, thinking family is worth it to even go back to... Oh, and there he is, the hero of the hour! I had feared Avernus had its iron hooks about you, but not you Gaerzil, my boy, not you!" His smile is sincere; it's the words one must learn never to trust, though his kindness, underneath it all, is his best kept secret. Soon the situation is explained and Rivalen nods along. "Sounds like there's not a mage amongst them but a few keen minds for business: I can use that. It's temporary and must remain so, but it will be useful and I owe you for your years of service. A terrible business, this Elturel drama. And we're down our Grand Duke? A pity indeed: we'll be drowning in blood before long. Sadly, I do have some bad news: if you're looking for your job back, I cannot give it. We were recently conned out of a great deal of money by some smoozer. Raf, his name was. I think? That's what his associate called him. Ended up stealing part of our stock and I've had to dig into our savings to repay it, as it wasn't insured: can you believe these fiddle-faddles in insurance won't insure magic sundries? What's the world coming to, I swear! Now, tell me of this caravan and of the handsome lady you've brought to me doorstep: enchanted. I am Rivalen Blackhand, at your service."

By the time Gwen and Gaerzil emerge from Sorcerous Sundries, the others have gathered outside as the market begins to die down and people begin to prepare for either the night market or, more likely, are shutting down for tomorrow. The dusk sky is marked with dark clouds and a red sky comes: sailor's warning. By this time, and in route to Sorcerous Sundries, Hravin was waylaid by his old friend: Qan-Di Cixi, an elf with the most astounding eyes, as if her iris and pupil were mixed and then her iris intermixed with the bluest of stars, as if the Tears of Selûne themselves were intermixed with them. "Got your missive, Hrav: always happy to help and especially given the circumstances." Her accent is strange, even to Keryn: she is like no elf he has ever met, nor even like Hastrine, touched by the Feywild.

As Gwen and Gaerzil emerge from Sorcerous Sundries, it is then that Mishka and Hravin notices it: moving among the stalls and streets of this part of Heapside are cloaked figures, all with the same types of daggers moving from their belts to their hands: a pentacle marked in red sits at the end of each pommel. Mishka is not familiar with this, but Hravin recalls the same type of blade as Vollis had: Vollis, the liar who killed a member of their caravan and had been possessed in the service of Zariel.

One such soul, dressed in fine purples and blues, pushes back his cloak as the woman next to him draws her crossbow. "Vollis will not go unavenged! For the Fallen!"

Only Mishka and Hravin are on the up and up.

Out of Character

Initiative
Party14.25
Cultists11

Enemies
Cult Fanatic-AC 13, 33/33 HP
Cultist 1-AC 12, 9/9 HP
Cultist 2-AC 12, 9/9 HP
Cultist 3-AC 12, 9/9 HP
Cultist 4-AC 12, 9/9 HP
Cultist 5-AC 12, 9/9 HP

Begin Round 1!

Bad news: unless your Passive Perception is 13 or more, you have the Surprised condition! That means only Hravin and Mishka can take full actions this round. Everyone else, strictly speaking, cannot take any Action, Move, or Reaction. Which means that Round 1 will be short for you lot. You'll also note your NPCs are suddenly drawn into this: this could end poorly for them!

As always, everyone has the choice to move their characters on Roll20 or I can do it for you. The links are in Discord. Not everyone rolled Initiative this time, but for Kyoh and Kavonde, I need two more Initiative rolls for the next two combats in this chapter.

Let's get to it!

Edited March 19 by Gregorotto (see edit history)

mildly_competent · March 19

Entangle

Mishka Strakeln (Dwarven Artificer 1)

HP: 10/10 | AC: 14 | Passive Perception: 13
Active Effects: NA

Spells and Expendables

Expendable	Used	Total	Recharge
Magical Tinkering	0	3	NA
Comprehend Languages (no spell slot used)	0	1	Long Rest
Entangle (no spell slot used)	1	1	Long Rest
Spell Slots Lvl 1	0	2	Long Rest

Prepared Spells:

Level 1: Absorb Elements, Cure Wounds, Tasha's Caustic Brew, Comprehend Languages*, Entangle*.

*Do not count against prepared spells, as they are granted by my Rune Shaper feat.

Hravin's comment takes Mishka a moment to translate and understand the implications. But eventually she smiles. "Ah! Well, red tape is gettink in da way of our goal. Better, I tink, to expend energy on da task instead of fighting da rules, yes?" Mishka was not pleased with the arrangement, but if she could work within the rules, she would.

Hex's comment, though, rankles the woman a bit, and she is unable to suppress a deeper scowl on her already drooping face. "Bah-- Baldur's Gate or people. Cities exist for people. Yes, yes, I will follow rules..." Though she is clearly still disgusted at the strong implication of people being turned away.

As the day moves on, Misty is glad to find any kind of success. It was not as much as she had hoped, but what about this situation is to be hoped for? She would take what she could get. And unfortunately, what she would get is attacked, along with all of her companions. "PIZDETS!" She shouts, some foreign exclamation, looking around quickly and attempting to assess the problem. It's not yet clear who all of the friends and foes were in a marketplace like this. But she could at least see the one who yelled. Mustering magical knowledge, Mishka traces a symbol in the air and slaps her thigh as she says "Fjell" and the ground itself begins warping and grasping at those around the cult leader.

More annoyed than anything, she grabs her hammer and begins marching towards the nearby cultist, grumbling in dwarven. How dare these people complicate the day further?

OOC

Action: Cast Entangle with the top right corner on the cult leader. Foes must make a Str saving throw DC 13 or become restrained.
Move: Move to the stop to the top right of Cultist 4.
Reaction: Absorb Elements if it is triggered.

PureChance · March 19

Keryn Donnathlascen

Moon Elf Rogue

AC: 14 (Leather) | HP: 24/24 () | HD: 3/3 | Speed: 30 ft. | Initiative: +5 (Dex&Cha)
Senses: Passive Perception 12, Insight 14, Investigation 10. Darkvision 60ft.
Str: 10 (+0) | Dex: 17 (+3) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | Int: 10 (+0) | Wis: 10 (+0) | Cha: 14 (+2)
Languages: Common, Elven, Chondathan, Illuskan, Draconic, Thieves' Cant

Falburn's Office

Keryn concealed a wince at Mishka's pronunciation, but tried not to judge the foreign back country dwarf too harshly for it. They seemed keen on bettering themselves, and had the good sense enough to be part of the Lord's Alliance. Hopefully they would just stick to Keryn in the future. Or perhaps elocution could join calisthenics. No, he enjoyed the silence too much. It would prove an unnecessary distraction. He half-listened to the Flame's concerns and nodded along; he shared them. A coup was the last thing they needed, and no doubt the first thoughts of some less noble persons. The influence of the Zhentarim seemed ever larger.

He stepped close at Hex's call, perfectly familiar with such clandestine afterwords. "Naturally," he murmured intimately, "such things go without saying. Cities exist for people, but Order must be maintained else there will be no cities left, save rubble and refugee camps."

The Market

His visit to Lord Elmflight went roughly as expected - the noble willing to help at least. Keryn was reasonably sure he could navigate the tricky waters of ensuring both events happened simultaneously, even if he had to trade on his name and status to do so. Perhaps if they found a further advantage for the Flame Falburn it would ease things as well. Once done, no-one would look too closely. Perhaps the political machinations left his distracted, or perhaps he simply felt safe back in Baldur's Gate; relaxing his guard in his home city after many tense nights on the road. Whatever it was, it took him precious seconds to realise they were under attack - the dwarf already calling upon hammer and runecraft by the time Keryn draws his rapier.

OOC

Action: -

Bonus Action: —

Movement: -

Reaction: Absorb Elements if triggered

Object Interaction: -

Actions & Resources

Actions:

Rapier . Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 + 3 piercing damage.

Booming Blade . Melee Weapon Attack: +1d8 Thunder damage if creature moves.

Dagger [2] . Thrown/Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, ranged 20/60 ft., one target. Hit: 1d4 + 3 piercing damage.

Shortbow . Ranged Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 + 3 piercing damage.

Bonus Actions:

Cunning Action . Your quick thinking and agility allow you to move and act quickly. You can take a bonus action on each of your turns in combat. This action can be used only to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide action.

Steady Aim . You give yourself advantage on your next attack roll on the current turn. You can use this bonus action only if you haven't moved during this turn, and after you use the bonus action, your speed is 0 until the end of the current turn.

Reactions:

Absorb Elements 1/1

Class Features:

Sneak Attack . Once per turn, you can deal an extra [2d6] damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll. [You also gain an additional way to use your Sneak Attack; ... you are within 5 feet of it, no other creatures are within 5 feet of you, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll]

Fancy Footwork . During your turn, if you make a melee attack against a creature, that creature can't make opportunity attacks against you for the rest of your turn.

Kyoh · March 19

Sorcerous Sundries

Gwen went with Gaerzil to Sorcerous Sundries since she had nothing better to do. She doesn't bat an eye at being referred to by her race; that sort of thing happens all the time. Gwen is doing her best to wait patiently while Gaerzil deals with his undoubtedly snooty boss, when said boss mentions the name of her fiance.

Gwen blinks and replays the sentence in her head. "Excuse me, did you say Raf? He's an artist, not a con artist. Are you sure this gentleman you spoke to was his accomplice? He must have been lying, if so."

Show Initiative Rolls

For the upcoming combats.

Initiative

Kamishiro_Rin · March 20

Iolanthe ‘Io’ Xanthe

Level 1 Half-Elf Entertainer Lore Bard

AC: 13 (Dex 2 + Leather 11); HP: 9/9 (1d8 + 1); Speed: 30 ft.

Proficiency Bonus: +2

STR: 8 (–1); DEX: 14 (+2); CON:save (+1) 12 (+1); INT: 14 (+2); WIS: 12 (+1); CHA: 17 (+3)

Bardic Inspiration (d6): 3/3

Spell Save DC: 13; Spell Attack: +5; Cantrips Known (4); Spells Known (4 + 1)

Spell Slots: 1st2/2; 2nd—; 3rd—; 4th—; 5th—; 6th—; 7th—; 8th—; 9th—

Senses: darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11, passive Insight 13, passive Investigation 12; Tools: disguise kit, guitar, violin, lute, her own voice; Armor: light armor; Weapons: simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords; Languages: Common, Elven, Dwarven; Size: Medium; Age: 23; Height: 5′–3″ (159 cm); Weight: 106 lb. (48.18 kg); Hair: Blonde; Eyes: Lavender

IC (‘My thoughts . . .’; “My words . . .”; My actions . . .)

Surprise Round (Round 1)

Later, in the market, when they all meet up again, suddenly there’s a commotion, someone shouts, “Vollis will not go unavenged! For the Fallen!”, and Iolanthe doesn’t even know what’s going on around her until it’s too late!

A fight has broken out and she needs to assess the situation, first!

OOC

Movement: —

Action: —

Bonus Action: —

Reaction: —

Interact-with-Object: —

(To Whom It May Concern . . .)

Player Notification Tags go Here

Kavonde · March 20

Gaerzil | HP 17/17 | AC 16 | Initiative +3 | Passive Perception 11
Spell Slots: 4/4
Active Effects: N/A

The ambush catches Gaerzil by surprise, but he can't help but laugh. Really? he thinks. He glances over at Rivalen Blackhand, owner of Sorcerous Sundries, heir to the arcane legacy of Halruaa, standing just a few yards beyond the threshold of his domain. Are these fools completely mad or just completely stupid?

Well, either way, this should be an entertaining little diversion.

OOC

Rolled an initiative of 6 for this fight and a 9 for the next.

Text_1	Text_2	Text_3	Bold_1	Accent_1	Mood_1
Warm_1	Warm_2	Warm_3	Bold_2	Accent_2	Mood_2
Cool_1	Cool_2	Cool_3	Bold_3	Accent_3	Mood_3
Bright_1	Bright_2	Bright_3	Bold_4	Accent_4	Mood_4

Chapter II: Stopped at the Gate

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