Welcome to Baldur’s Gate, a bustling coastal city of 125,000 residents. A plutocracy ruled by the Council of Four and Parliament of Peers, money talks in this city. Whether skulking in the alleyways with a knife or plying trade from a storefront, everyone must make a living by any means necessary.
In the Upper City, away from (most of) the lawlessness of the Lower City, the High House of Wonders echoes with clanging hammers as it billows ashen forge smoke. Deep within, a minotaur acolyte hammers out the final touches on a plate of powerful, valuable armor.
Sfiros Dimirgos stands in his saffron robes and sunhat, admiring the craftmanship of his completed piece of art. The flourishes, etchings, gilded stuff, not gilded stuff, and really cool shit make him proud to be a Gondish cleric! But he’s a cleric working on commission, so he can’t wear this super cool ballbreaking armor that would break the game at level 1…
AND THAT’S JUST TOO BAD AIN’T IT!?
As he admires his work, the high priest of Gond approaches from behind, “How comes the armor?” Numuroo asks. He’s the only other minotaur in the temple.
I guess you could call this "bovine intervention!"
Hahah, get it? "Bovine" as in cow! "Intervention" as in what someone might need if they stay up late several nights writing D&D campaign blogs and drawing—
“Well, as with all things, I am guided by the hand of Gond!” Sfiros says, even though he and the high priest technically have no hands. But I drew them anyways!
“Well done. I expect it to be delivered to the Hlath family by the end of the night,” Numuroo snorts. “Assemble a crew for delivery!”
And with that, Numuroo departs.
Sfiros thinks minotaurishly, “Maybe I can get my minotaur friends to do this?” His crew would be perfect to help him with this delivery!
Speaking of minotaur friends:
In the minotaur district deep within the Steeps, just on the other side of the wall separating the Upper City from the Lower City, Caeus Anacos spends his time in his little workshop. An average working minotaur with an average disposition, Caeus plies his artificer trade to people who bring in broken gear for tinkering. Above his door is his tinker bell, enchanted to leave messages to any who enter his shop. His brother, Sleipnir Anacos, keeps to the shadows, being a gossiper and all around creepy li'l bastard! Whenever people come in to visit, Sleipnir sits quietly and takes notes.
"Gosh my brother is so… everyone likes him so much! Why doesn't anyone ask me to build a clock?" Sleipnir grumbles from the shadows.
"People would ask you to build a clock if you weren't always hiding!" Caeus udders—I mean, utters.
"Gosh!" Sleipnir says.
Caeus turns to him, "Every time someone catches you in the corner of their eye, you throw a smoke bomb and disappear!"
"I like throwing smoke bombs, gosh!" Sleipnir says.
Meanwhile, on the outside part of the workshop (which is the biggest part), arrives the most height-gifted minotaur in all the land: the Tallest. A towering, massive character even by minotaur standards, Tallest is out to bedazzle himself in sweet, sweet shinies! Ever an aficionado for gemstones and precious metals, he has been out in search for treasure and jewelry—he thinks it's cool! He’s got rings and shit!
"Buy local minotaur-made right over here!" Caeus says. "Also, I'm indestructible!"
"It's a family trait!" Sleipnir says from the shadows
They’re both wrong.
Tallest opens the door to Caeus' workshop, the tinker bell above playing the following magical message when he enters, "If you need me I'm in the workshop."
Tallest lowers his head as he enters and sighs, "What the fuck you doing over there, Sleipnir?"
Sleipnir pops his head out of a shadowy corner, "You can see me?"
"I just assumed you were over there!" Tallest snorts.
Sleipnir bows, "Right this way, Mr. Tallest."
Tallest follows him into the back garage. "So what's the word going on around here?" he says, plying Sleipnir for rumors.
Sleipnir checks his notes, "I hear that several years ago, the Death Curse was solved by a single ork! And that a crazy wizard has this magic ring right now, but the latest rumor I've heard... is that there are refugees from the Calimshan region who have been appearing in the area. They’re from the same place that the crazy wizard with the ring is from."
They enter the workshop at the end of Sleipnir’s recitation, and Caeus overhears the spiel about the heroes of Chult from so long ago.
"My favorite one was the one who ended the Death Curse!" Caeus says.
"That was the ork!" Sleipnir says.
"It was a specific one..." Caeus says.
"It's the ork!" Sleipnir repeats.
"I have a hard time believing an ork did this. I feel like a mushroom-type creature helped out..." Tallest says, joining the discussion about those heroes of Chult.
Maybe one day they would be heroes too?
Speaking of maybe being heroes one day, another horned individual is plying his trade around Baldur’s Gate. This tiefling, Harken Beremon, would have known a hero of Chult had his younger brother, Ezekiel Beremon, not died in the Tomb of the Nine Gods. But a Beremon true and true, Harken has spent his time meandering about at the Elfsong Tavern—this time waiting for a contact of his to arrive.
Whispers abound within the tavern—typical underhanded folk trading the latest gossip or marks about what advantages are bound to exist in Baldur’s Gate. Should a fight break out, the Flaming Fist or the Watch wouldn’t dare intervene—the Elfsong Tavern was outside of their care, and besides, the tavern’s proprietor, a half-elf named Alan Alyth, employs a half-ogre bouncer named Skoona and suit of animated armor named Klank imbued by the Gondish priests from the High House of Wonder to keep the peace in his establishment.
Harken hears some commotion outside, so he steps between Skoona and Klank to satisfy his curiosity. To his delight, he sees his old acquaintance, Sfiros, trying to haul a cart of expensive armor down the crowded streets. Apparently a piece of the gilded armor had clattered onto the cobblestone walkway, alerting several onlookers that the hoof-kin was toting treasure!
Damn, a crowd is not needed!
Harken jumps to his friend’s aid and shoves through the crowd, emerging out the front. "Oy Sfiros! What you got there?" he calls.
"I am so glad you are here!" Sfiros chatters, readjusting the blanket covering the armor. "People are just causing a ruckus. I have an armor delivery for the head of the Hlath patriar household."
"Only ruckus here is you, mate," Harken says, eyeing the crowd’s salivating expressions. "My friend ain't shown yet,” he mutters.
"Your friend has shown! You can take a hand!" Sfiros hints, stepping aside so Harken can grab one of the cart handles.
Harken leers at the onlookers, "What, you ain't never seen a fucking cow and a devil before?"
They continue down the road, a few onlookers still shadowing them from afar, but most passersby now assume that the couple are just a pair of workers on their way for a regular delivery. While transporting their gear, the minotaur and tiefling can’t help but overhear one of the Flaming Fist gate guards having an argument with a foreigner.
As is one of Baldur’s Gate’s laws, no livestock animals are allowed within the city walls, with the Council of Four declaring animals as "livestock" if they were “larger than a peacock.” With Baldur’s Gate citizens skirting the law the best way possible, they then began purchasing great, big peacocks to use as measuring guides for their animals…
Which means Baldur’s Gate has a bit of an out-of-control feral peacock population!
"Sir! You must understand that this donkey is smaller than the peacock," the out-of-towner says to the guard, trying to get his donkey into the city limit.
"Hey you!" the guard shouts to Sfiros and Harken—but specifically the cleric. "Holy cleric, let's get a third party's opinion."
Harken claps Sfiros on the back, “Go give him a third party opinion!"
The guard gestures to the donkey and the peacock, "Look at this donkey, and look at this peacock. Do you think this donkey is smaller than this peacock?"
Sfiros rolls a five for a Perception check (rolling low for Perception? Surely he’ll never have to worry about that again in the future!) "Clearly this donkey is larger than this peacock,” he says, assuming that the bulk of the peacock is simply feathers.
"HAH!" the guard says, and the foreigner grimaces.
Harken steps in, "I think this guy wants you to grease his palms if you want your donkey to get in."
The guard’s eyes widen. "Yeah... I think I think that, too!”
The man gives 10 gp to the guard, who then gives 1 gp to Harken for a tip. Harken examines the coin, recognizing it as a gold piece minted in Port Nyanzaru—Chultan money! The stranger with the donkey is also, Harken assumes, a Calishite.
"Oy, where'd you get a nice pretty coin like this?" Harken says.
"We have been trading with the Merchant Princes of Chult,” the man says.
"I had a family member that way. Something got into him," Harken says, remembering Ezekiel.
The man nods. "We’ve had grim news from back home as well."
"Oh?" Harken says.
The Calishite leans in, "Rumor has it, at least from what I've heard, the refugees are spilling into northern Calimshan because of a great disaster! Great destruction has come to Kinchasa!"
Destruction in Kinchasa? The booming city was over a thousand miles away and peaking at a new golden age—one of the most commercially successful cities in the whole west! Great destruction?
"What has happened?" Sfiros says.
"I don't know—but everyone is fleeing."
"What are you fleeing from?" Harken says.
The may shrugs. "If everyone is running, you run with them!"
"That's called a stampede, ain't that right cowboy?" Harken says to Sfiros.
"It is general safest to follow the crowd when there's danger. But a true hero runs towards danger!" Sfiros says.
After a bit more banter, they depart on their ways with this intriguing news that may open more doors to the sudden influx of refugees from the Calimshan region. Or quest hooks.
Back at the workshop, Caeus is working on a brand new invention: the couch! He is almost finished welding the contraption together when he hears the unmistakable sound of a metal maker who also happens to be a minotaur grunting under the stress of hauling something heavy!
It’s such a recognizable noise!
Sleipnir appears from the shadows. "Rumor has it that Sfiros has made exquisite armor!" he says, then disappears back into the shadows again.
"This I gotta see!" Caeus gets up and walks outside to check out the noise.
"CAEUS, COME SEE THIS EXQUISITE ARMOR I HAVE MADE!" Sfiros says, finally hauling the cart up to the workshop.
"How big is it? This will never fit!" Tallest says, investigating the human-sized armor for regular human-sized humans.
Sleipnir stays in his shadow.
"This armor is great and awesome. It's no couch though," Caeus says.
"Have you invented a new thing?" Sfiros says.
"You've seen my couch! But I improved it!" Caeus says.
They move the armor inside the workshop so that it’s out of the way.
"We only had to bribe one guard on the way here," Sfiros says. "Well... we took a bribe."
"So you made a guard take a bribe huh?" Sleipnir says from the shadows.
"What did he look like?" Tallest says.
"Yes, give me some details" Sleipnir says.
"... No!" Harken says.
"Look in my armrest,” Caeus says. “If you flip it up, there are some digits. I created a cow-culator! It helps with math."
Everyone is now mad at Caeus.
"What's math?" Sfiros says.
"It's numbers! Like when you go shopping and tally your money!" Caeus says.
Sleipnir pokes his brother’s couch number cruncher. "You mean I have to take this whole thing when I go shopping?"
"You are so wise! You are inspired by Gond!" Sfiros says to Caeus. "Have you heard about Gond?"
"My brother gets all the inspiration from everything, gosh!" Sleipnir says, pouting.
"Can you make the armor big-sized?" Tallest says, unapproving of such little armor.
"What is this armor?" Caeus says, admiring it.
"It's paid for by the patriar of the Hlath family. You guys want to help me deliver it? It will make a very striking impression if a whole bunch of minotaurs and also Harken come deliver it," Sfiros says, beaming.
The PC’s decide to go on a stroll through the Steeps over to Heapside where the Hlath family has scheduled the dropoff: an inn of theirs, the Blushing Mermaid. The herd maneuvers up the Steeps and reaches Heapside, then takes note of the inn as they cross one block over.
A large, lifesized wooden carving of a mermaid decorates the entry—and eight withered, severed hands are nailed to the mermaid’s tail. Harken knows why the hands are there. "Oy mates make sure to pay your tab!"
They step in, taking in the seedy atmosphere. The Blushing Mermaid patrons crane their heads to examine the new arrivals—groups of minotaurs aren’t the most common of sights, even in a metropolis like Baldur’s Gate. Even more bizarre to the patrons, the minotaurs are carrying a suit of fancy armor.
Fancy armor is pricey... but four minotaurs (and a Harken) can be dangerous when they're main characters in an RPG, even at level 1!
After a bit, the patrons return to their gambling corners, a haze of smoke filling the ceiling. At this point, both Harken and Sleipnir notice some familiar faces.
Harken picks out Lala Stout, a scarfaced halfling who is flipping a coin while watching a card game. A renown catburglar among the underworld, Harken has had a few run-ins and dealings with her in the past. Sleipnir, however, notices Oloric Witmirth, an impoverished human playwright who scribbles his notes and observations in a small book. Observers at heart, both Sleipnir and Oloric commonly barter information when needed.
"Hello Mr. Shakespeare, I have something to discuss with you!" Sleipnir says to Oloric, sitting down.
"Oh, Sleipnir! You startled me!" Oloric says.
"I am very sneaky. I'm sorry!" Sleipnir says. “I have some rumors I'd like to go over!"
Sleipnir and Oloric exchange notes with each other, passing over their spare observation books. It’s important to stay in the know, especially if you’re a crew of minotaurs!
Harken approaches Lala. "What are you doing here?" he says.
"Keeping an eye out for something to take,” Lala says, winking.
The two banter back and forth flirtatiously, which I won’t write down because one, I forgot to write what was said; and two, it gets weird on a meta level. It all ends with Lala sauntering away and giving Harken the finger.
The minotaurs hurry their armor down a hallway towards their Hlath contact, and as they clear the room of onlookers, they see a burly dwarf guard standing in front of a door in the hall. He eyeballs the Herd with a raised eyebrow.
"HELLO!" Sfiros greets him.
"Ay that's a hell of an entourage,” the dwarf says, counting five pairs of horns.
"Hell of a suit of armor!" Sfiros says, showing off the goods.
"Let me see it!" the dwarf says, stepping up to investigate it.
“It's for your master actually,” Sfiros says, holding up the armor.
Several others within the lounge area lean over to peek down the hallway and check out the expensive armor. Even Lala steals a glance, knowing there’s no way someone as short as a halfling could run off with it—but still... wealth is wealth.
Caeus reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wrench just in case a fight breaks out. Sfiros nervously eyes the crowd, wanting some privacy NOW!
"All right, Sfiros,” Harken says, noticing his unease. “If someone knows you're good at making armor, then they're going to either take it or kill you or both!"
"It's for his boss!" Sfiros shouts at the people.
"Yeah everyone, we have fucking wares!" Harken shouts at them.
"Don't say wares!” Sfiros says to Harken. “We don't have wares! They rob wares! Why'd you say wares like we have wares?” Sfiros turns to the crowd. “This is currently property of the church of Gond!"
"Oh yeah, that's ever stopped somebody before!" Harken mutters. “I can't believe you've never been stabbed yet!"
"I'm so good at not being stabbed!" Sfiros argues.
"They're looking at this unassuming armor!" Harken says.
"It's NOT unassuming! It is mastercrafted!" Sfiros says, referring to the armor he made at level one before the campaign even started.
The dwarf shoves the door open and ushers the PC’s inside to quell their debates. They step into the room and see that smoke has filled the place—it’s everywhere! Hardly anyone can see five feet in front of them, especially the Tallest.
"Is that a moo I hear?" a snarky voice pipes up. "Is it?"
"I'm here to deliver your armor. It's exquisite!" Sfiros shouts into the smoke.
Stepping from the smoke is a stout, large-eared goblin with a crooked smile and gold rings on his hands. Caeus and Harken recognize the fellow as Goblin Behnie, a kingpin from the Bloomridge district just south of the Steeps—an anxious fellow prone to outbursts and schemes.
Why is he up in the Heapside district? This isn’t his territory. And he’s a representative for the Hlath patriar family? Something’s strange…
"Looks like some armor, exquisite!" Goblin Behnie says.
"He did a great job on this one. You should pay him double," Tallest says from up in his smoke cloud.
"Go ahead and leave it here!" Goblin Behnie instructs them.
"Is one of the Hlath’s here?" Sfiros says.
"I'm their representative!" Goblin Behnie claims.
"I think I need to leave it with the patriar," Sfiros says. "If he's not here, I'll come back!"
The moment Sfiros’ words leave his mouth, all light within the room goes out, and the door behind them slams shut! A hand clutching a dagger emerges from the smoke, stabbing Harken in the back! As he drops to the ground, he notices a symbol emblazoned on the glove of the villain who stabbed him—a symbol of one of the last chaos gods.
“Khorne!” Harken shouts the name of the chaos god before falling into an unconscious heap.
"Wow, what a terrible last word!" Caeus says, staring at Harken. "And is it spelled with a backwards ‘K’ like thee meatal band?”
"We don't know how it's spelled! He said it!" Sleipnir shouts.
Sleipnir ducks out of the way as a knife stabs at Tallest, catching one of his large bracelets and bouncing off harmlessly with a loud CLING!
"What the fuck!?" Tallest shouts as he takes out his hammer and swings into the dark smoke, making contact with someone with a loud crunch! "There is no honor in swatting flies!" he shouts.
Caeus goes over to Harken and smacks him with his wrench, healing him for 4 HP as he casts cure light wounds.
Harken stands up with a level of exhaustion, feeling a bit woozy. "Oh thanks mate! Fucking headache and a half!" he says.
And then he’s stabbed into unconsciousness again!
And then Caeus is stabbed into unconsciousness!
And then Sleipnir takes a hit, but he doesn’t fall down just yet. At this moment, the PC’s realize there are five attackers surrounding them in the lightless smoke, stepping in and shanking them when they’re least expecting it. They have to pass Perception checks to notice the attacks coming at them, as well as to ensure they’re swinging in the right location when they retaliate!
Sfiros casts healing word on Harken, bringing him back up but giving him two levels of exhaustion. This is not the best day to be this particular tiefling! Based on the previous campaign, it's never a good day to be a tiefling!
BECAUSE THEY ALL DIED!
Sfiros then casts guidance on Tallest to help him with spotting these assailants.
Sleipnir peers through the smoke and catches sight of the wounded attacker, then summons his shadow magic to cast chill touch, which manifests as a skull between his two horns and launches at the foe! The attack misses, but as the evildoer dodges out of the way, Tallest catches him with a backswing of his warhammer and breaks his neck.
"You invited this violence upon yourselves!" Tallest moos within the smoky room!
Sleipnir takes a stab to his shoulder but grits through the pain with relentless endurance. Harken is plastered to the ground, but he feigns death while murmuring dissonant whispers at one of the attackers. The unknown foe makes his save, but still suffers mental damage as the tiefling tries to pierce into his head. And nobody wants a tiefling in their head!
Sfiros draws his holy mace and swings randomly, making contact with one of the attackers, but not enough to drop him. Another attacker swoops in at Sleipnir, who casts shield to raise a magical barrier—the attacks clang off the forcefield harmlessly, keeping him wavering at 1 Hit Point. He retaliates with chill touch, but Tallest annihilates the second assassin instead.
As the assassin dies, it lets out one final cult chant in Infernal, but Tallest can speak the ancient language of devils and hears the following, “Blood for the blood god! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" as the cultist falls down dead.
Sfiros casts sacred flame and scores a hit as Tallest suffers his first wound of the brawl. Sleipnir summons his skull-faced chill touch again and manages a hit, slaughtering another cultist and throwing the odds of the fight in favor of the Herd.
Tallest chants as he buffs himself back up to maximum HP after using second wind while Sfiros bats away incoming daggers with his shield. The cleric is fed bardic inspiration from Harken, and he clobbers a cultist who oversteps his boundaries.
Sleipnir shuffles over to Caeus and shouts, "Get up brother..." While Sfiros casts healing word at him by screaming, "GOOOOND!"
"We get it! You like Gond!" Caeus murmurs, standing up.
"You like napping in the middle of fights!" Sfiros retorts.
The party turns and annihilates the final members of the cult, then stands their ground in case of retaliation. All that’s remaining in the dark room once the brawl ends is the everpresent smoke that isn’t going away. Caeus steps to Sfiros and heals him for a bit, restoring his Hit Points.
"Of course you wouldn't even worry about your own brother..." Sleipnir mumbles.
"What's your health at?" Harken says.
"... 1." Sleipnir says.
Sleipnir still doesn't get healed.
The group sorts through the corpses and finds only daggers inscribed with a hellish symbol. They recognize the symbol as belonging to an ancient chaos blood god: Khorne.
"I remember hearing this chant in the fight!" Tallest says.
"We had a fight?" Caeus says.
"Yeah they were saying 'Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!'" Tallest tells them.
"Hey tinkerers, did you see any way these people saw through the smoke?" Sleipnir says to his brother and the Gondish cleric.
Caeus examines the cultists’ eyes and finds reddish powdered substances rubbed into their eyelids. He consults his knowledge about arcane whats-its and determines that the cultists used sorcery powder to be able to see through the smoke and darkness.
They probably got it from Sephora.
"It looks like evil magic," Caeus says.
"Can you take their evil magic and turn it into goggles?" Tallest says.
"I'm not taking their eyes!" Caeus says, dropping the cultist.
"Fine you do magic your way!" Tallest says, taking one of the cultist’s emblazoned daggers for later.
They huddle and decide their next move. "Hey do we think that guy outside was setting us up or do you think he's friendly?" Sfiros says.
"Let's pretend we're dead," Sleipnir suggests.
"Pretty good at that mate," Harken jokes, rubbing the areas where he was stabbed.
“We need to go through whichever door this goblin went through to get out!" Sleipnir says, knowing that Goblin Behnie escaped somehow. "We took the armor to the agreed upon destination!”
"I don't think we should leave the armor here,” Sfiros says.
Tallest decides to go up to the door with Harken and knock on it. Maybe the dwarf is still there!
"Behnie?" the dwarf on the other side says.
Harken clears his throat and rolls pretty damn high on a deception check to impersonate the goblin, "Yeah it's done. Open up."
The dwarf opens up the door, but he can’t see through the smoke. Sleipnir hides in the smoke and casts friends on the dwarf while Harken continues to impersonate Goblin Behnie.
"Aye come and get the boys out of here! There's all these bodies," Harken lies goblinishly. "Go get the crew!"
The dwarf leaves to fetch a cleanup crew, creating an opening for the PC’s. They take the armor and dash into the hallway, knowing they can’t go into the lobby or else the dwarf will see them. Instead they head farther down the hall until they come to a window they could easily crawl out of…
But right next to the window is a door marked “MANAGEMENT.”
"Want to check in here?" Sleipnir says, knowing they still need to deliver the armor.
"We just need to go into the management room real quick!" Tallest says, calling the shot.
"The Tallest is who we listen to!" Sleipnir seconds the decision.
"You sonuva bitch I'm in," Caeus says.
Tallest leans really far down to open the door. He peeks in and sees a member of the Hlath patriar family looking over a ledger. A bodyguard wearing a rapier sits in the corner of the mahogany walled room.
"Hey this looks like nepotism, but it could be important!" Tallest says, stepping inside. "Excuse me Mr. Hlath sir, delivery!"
The young man looks up from his studies, a thin mustache outlining his smile. "Ah very good! My delivery from Gond is here! I assume you have no troubles?"
"That mate Behnie got us!" Harken says.
The Hlath scrunches his face. "He's been banned for six months! Is he here!?"
"Cleric, this is your delivery. You should take over," Caeus says, pushing Sfiros forward.
"Hello yes I'm here for the temple of Gond, delivering this armor. Behnie wanted it,” Sfiros says, stepping up.
"What was Behnie doing here?" Hlath says.
"Trying to kill us," Harken mutters. "Rumor has it your dwarven guard was in on it too.”
"I don't have a dwarven guard," Hlath says, confused. His bodyguard straightens up as a command is issued, "Matthias, see to it that all dwarves in this establishment are gone."
Matthias nods, then steps past the minotaurs with his hand placed on the pommel of his rapier. He heads into the lobby, and the door closes before they can see his handiwork.
"Rumor has it that you should tip for deliveries," Harken mutters.
Hlath understands the trouble they’ve been through, so he gives them 25 gold pieces each for their efforts. "They must have known you would bring it here," Hlath says.
"Why would anyone know we were bringing armor?" Caeus says as Sfiros and Harken glance at each other.
The Herd then asks Hlath if he’s heard of any rumors lately, especially since there’s some kind of flux going on in Calimshan that’s causing people to flee.
"Have you noticed an influx of refugees lately?" Hlath says.
"Oh yeah from Calimshan! Kinchasa, specifically!" Sfiros says.
Hlath looks around to make sure nobody else could be listening. "Everyone’s fleeing for some reason! From what I hear, even the Manzibar of Kinchasa has fled and is hiding here in Baldur's Gate somewhere."
"Oh shit we should talk to that guy!" Sfiros says.
Hlath continues. "The Kinchasans are, from what I hear, taking refuge where needed. Something has happened in Kinchasa. Perhaps the Manzibar of Kinchasa, Thavius Kreeg, could use your help."
With their curiosity sated, the Herd dashes out of Hlath’s escape hatches so that they’re no longer in the Blushing Mermaid. Around the front of the café tavern, they hear Matthias adding more hands to the mermaid carving: dwarf hands! And maybe short fat human hands too! Sometimes it's hard to tell them apart!
“You guys want to go back to Caeus' and take a rest?" Tallest suggests, seeing how they need to recover from their brawl. They have plenty of money to lay low for a while.
When they return to the minotaur district in the Steeps, they recount all of the bizarre stuff that has transpired today: Goblin Behnie is straggling out of his gang’s jurisdiction, weird cult stuff with Khorne the Blood God is surfacing, and an influx of refugees from a region in trouble seems to have people on edge.
But they delivered the armor!
Maybe over the next few days they can find some answers to Baldur’s Gate’s issues?