Baldur's Gate: Descent Into Avernus

Welcome to Baldur’s Gate: a massive city of gray stone standing a stalwart watch over the River Chionthar. From a distance, one would imagine a city bustling with life and trade: merchants furiously competing with others for customers and offering exotic goods from the far corners of Faerûn, taverns full of song, merriment and delicious brews, and lavish living spaces for the lucky few who call this beautiful port city a home. But a closer look, and a mere few steps off the docks, will cause those salt-water induced hallucinations to shatter in an instant.   Baldur’s Gate… the Gray Harbor; along the Sword Coast you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. From their high perches in the Upper City, the local nobles (known as Patriars) gaze down with veiled contempt upon the common rabble within the Lower City. The whole of Baldur’s Gate reeks of blood, crime, and opportunity. Pirates, assassins, and merchants of varying moral disposition are drawn to the city like flies to a carcass.   The Patriars pay a mercenary army called the Flaming Fist to protect their interests in Baldur’s Gate, and by extension the city itself. On top of this, the Flaming Fist’s charismatic leader, Ulder Ravengard, claimed the title of Grand Duke in recent years which has bolstered the power and influence the mercenary group holds in the city.   Recently, refugees hailing from the eastern, bordering nation of Elturgard have been arriving in droves. The refugees were the first to bring news that Elturel, the capital of Elturgard, has fallen. Many in the Lower City fear that Baldur’s Gate is next, but nobody knows who or what has overrun the city of Elturel.   On top of the refugee crisis, Ulder Ravengard has been missing since the first refugees arrived, and forgotten cults have returned to the city, making the area unusually hostile and dangerous. Until these issues are resolved, the Flaming Fist decided to seal the gates leading into the city proper. Nobody is allowed in or out. The refugees are now forced to find any semblance of safety in the slums of the Outer City, which is defended by little more than a small volunteer militia.   Over the next few days, you routinely see Flaming Fist guards wrangle with refugees that snuck into the city, angry mobs of commoners trying to leave the city, and cleaning up the bodies from the influx of murders that are now happening publicly in broad daylight. For most, it doesn’t take long to adjust. Just another day in the city of blood.