Adventures of the Company 1: Death of a Duke

The Company enters Baldur's Gate during Founder's Day, a holiday for the city. They look for trade and supplies as they travel the lands of Faerùn, but got more than they bargained for.

**Disclaimer** I own nothing within this story. It is all the product of my family and I’s imagination taking shape from the campaign of “Murder in Baldur’s Gate” by Wizards of the Coast INC. I was simply bored and decided to write short stories about our encounters within Faerùn in the Forgotten Realms. I hope you enjoy.

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Clouds covered the morning sun on the beginning of Founder’s Day in the city of Baldur’s Gate, a port city off of the Sword Coast. The city was divided into three sections by towering walls; with the Outer City trailing Northeast and heading south around a mountain’s peak toward Wyrm’s Crossing that connected the south roads of Calimport and other such southern cities to Baldur’s Gate, while the Lower City occupied the docks and local merchants not lucky enough to obtain noble blood within their ranks and finally with the Upper City housing the various nobles and dukes as well as the Hall of Wonders, which is occupied the Gond priests, and the Wide which is the main hub of the prominent merchants of the city and also holds the numerous holidays of the city, such as Founder’s Day.The Wide was full of business on the City’s beloved holiday, which was to honor the famous adventurer Balduran who told wild stories of his exploits in Evermeet, the homeland of the elves, while searching for Anchorome, fabled isles within the Sea of Swords.

The company entered the Wide, with Baelronn at it’s center. Baelronn, a dwarf cleric of clan Golden Glove, was part of a small clan that dedicated their lives to their deity Berronar, the dwarf goddess of healing and consort to the leader of the dwarf gods, Moradin. The clan spent most of their days mending injuries and keeping records within the dwarven fortress of Citadel Adbar. Baelronn was not old in the terms of his kin. Passing his second century of life, he had not even left Citadel Adbar often, save to Silverymoon, or Sundabar with merchants who sold ore, armor and weapons fitting the beautiful city. Now the dwarf was out in the world, among greedy humans and trickster halflings who would sooner remove you of your purse then give any real aid.The Company, composed of the most unusual of beings that Baldur’s Gate had ever seen, moved along the various stores within the Wide. There was Petra, a changeling thief, Mezzanotte, an eldaric wizard, Wyrmtooth, a dragonborn, and finally Vorgrin, a drow elf ranger. Many of the citizen of the city decided it was wise to keep a distance from the eccentric group, in hopes of not finding the fine weapons the company carried in one of their organs.

Wild cheers filled the middle of the Wide, where a stage and podium had been set up. Baelronn could see several official men and a woman sitting in their respective seats while one of their peers spoke to the jovial crowd. Several guards stood at their posts, making sure that the happy citizens didn’t turn into an overwhelming mob that would kill the very people they were cheering for. “Bunch ‘a fools if ye ask me,” said Baelronn to Vorgrin who stood beside him. “They cheer them one day, then curse them the next. Seems to me that they should be more worried about their purses they leave unguarded for thieves to take with a flick of their hand.” 

“Indeed, but if they wish to be robbed they have none but themselves to give blame. Though I fear for such thieves with so many watch members about.” Said the drow elf. In truth, theft was a crime met with harsh punishments. Some places, such as Luskan to the north near the Spine of the World, even took pleasure in capturing and torturing the miserable wretches of the street at their prisoner’s carnival until their had confessed and were quickly executed or would die from their wounds before they said a word. Instinctively the drow and dwarf looked to Petra, their resident changeling thief, who seemed to drool at the prospect of so many fat purses. After a shared chuckle the pair turned back to their group and followed their largest member of the company, the dragonborn known as Wyrmtooth, into a local armor shop that had the insignia of Danthelon’s Dancing Axe. The shop itself was new but known well known for it’s business at Wyrm’s Crossing. The owner of this shop, who sired the name, was a blond bearded dwarf called Entharl Danthelon.

“Greetings and well met,” came a voice from behind a rack of polearms to the side. The whole place was organized, by dwarf standards at least, with weapons hanging from anything that would stand still long enough to hold items. The blond bearded dwarf came from behind the rack with a short sword in his hand. The shop keeper wore a leather apron, with an axe twirling around a tree, in front of his white shirt and tan pants. The beard was braided in the front making it narrow and somewhat amusing to look at. “This ‘ere is the Dancing Axe, and we welcome buyers with big purses and wide smiles. Can I help ye today? Perhaps ye are in need of traveling packs? I have some fine ropes. Came from the Moonwood it did. The elves make their ropes strong but thin. Ye won’t find better quality anywhere.”

“No thank you, my dear dwarf,” came the melodic voice of Vorgrin as he came from behind Wyrmtooth. “Our big friend here is looking for a new axe. Perhaps something of your design would fit his needs?”

Entharl looked at the drow elf incredulously. The eyes on the dwarf began to grow wide in both anger and fear. He took a defensive posture with the sword he carried and began to reach back for one of the longer weapons, hoping to keep the drow as far away from him as possible. “You… you…” the dwarf stammered.

“We wish not to fight you,” spoke Wyrmtooth as he took a step forward, shielding his dark skinned friend from the dwarf. “I wish for the chance to browse your goods. You would not pass up a profit no matter the buyer.”

“Bah! I’d never sell me goods to no stinkin dark elf. Don’t ye be forgettin’ that many o’ me kinsman died to their kind in Mithril Hall!” shouted the steaming dwarf. He pointed a stubby finger at Vorgrin. “We fought ye back don’t ye doubt. The praises to Moradin we gave when we sent ye back into yer dark holes. I’d love a pair of knuckle bones from one o’ ye’s priestess.”

Wyrmtooth came at the man and smacked the sword from his hand. The dwarf went for the polearms behind him, but the dragonborn gave a roar that made even those outside look to the skies in the thought of an attack, he thought better of it and let go of the shaft. “Bring me axe or I take your head with mine!” said the brute. To make a point the dragonborn brought his own axe to his free hand. Entharl gave a scowl to the creature and turned to another rack on the other side of the shop. A moment later he returned with a double headed axe with carving all down the shaft, the most prominent was the mark of Moradin, god of the dwarves. Without a word, Wyrmtooth took the axe into his hand and eyed it with scrutiny. The handle was indeed a beautiful thing to see, with runes and other such markings swirling around from head to butt. However, the wood near the head looked splintered. The dragonborn gave the axe a good bang on the side of the counter and it sounded like a tribe of stone giants had assaulted the shop. The axe head gave somewhat and the sound of cracking wood was heard. Wyrmtooth gave Entharl a glowering look.

“Bah!” said the defeated dwarf as he snatched the axe, at least what was left of it, from Wyrmtooth. “I have better quality weapons, don’t ye doubt, but I won’t give ‘em to the likes of ye. If ye don’t like what you get within my shop then be gone before I call the Marshal here and I’m sure his boys would take pleasure in bringing your company to justice.”

Wyrmtooth started forward again, but Petra placed a reassuring hand onto his arm to relax the hot tempered dragonborn. “Be still, my friend. Many places know us not. It is best to not make enemies before we complete our business within the city,” Seeing that she would get no argument from the dragonborn, she turned her head to regard Entharl. “I beg your pardon, good dwarf. We wish no quarrel with you and I beg of you to not call the Watch. We would hate to confuse them so.” As the woman said that he feminine face began to rip and mold. Where one tear or crack would appear it would be replaced by some sort of liquid within the woman and take a new shape. Within seconds her face resembled the blond bearded dwarf from his braided beard to the one old link he had ran through his ear. The dwarf backed off with a pale expression, as if his ancestors had come from the halls of his father and smacked him in the face.Without another word the company left the Dancing Axe.

“I beg of you be more careful, my friend,” said Vorgrin as they regrouped outside in the busy crowd. “We are visitors to this land and need no enemies before our adventures have yet to begin.”

“Aye, and least o’ all makin’ enemies o’ dwarves.” Warned Baelronn and offered a grin and wink to Wyrmtooth.

Mezzanotte, the eldaric wizard and most quiet of the group, brought one thin finger to her delicate, pursed lips to quiet the company and bring their attention to the stage. The other officials were all sitting down now and the cheers did not subside. Moments later the cheers became an outright roar as one man took center stage. The man was deceptive to look at as his hair was long and white, but old age did not show on his body as he stood tall with muscles to rival a barbarian’s from the north lands of Icewind Dale. His blue cape behind him flew at the command of the wind, which was strong in the Wide, to much of the relief of all in attendance. His armor showed no rust nor ware of battle or travel. Still the armor fit him well and he stood as though he could fight ten score giants. A woman moved closer to the company and looked at them as they did in turn. “That there’s Duke Abdel Adrian!” the wizened woman said as she pumped a first in the air to honor her Duke. The Duke started his speech on his love for the city and recited part of the tale that gave the city it’s name, following the accounts of Balduran who set out on his voyage to find fabled isles of old. Then the Duke moved into the value of the city and the trade that would bring them above the others on the Sword Coast. The cheers were louder than before, if that was possible. It felt as though the entire city was calling out to the Duke, offering their souls for the greater good that was Baldur’s Gate.

Baelronn, not even being able to see the so called Duke, was not affected by the man’s speech. Such speeches were common in every city in Faerùn, or at least the ones he had visited thus far. With an amused expression the cleric dwarf looked about the crowd. There was not one person looking away from the stage. Even those of his own company seemed to enjoy and take heart at the words of Abdel Adrian. The dwarf’s face soon screwed up in a perplexed expression as he saw a black hooded figure slowly making his way toward the stage. With a quick look to both his left and right flanks he saw  crossbow men taking position atop the nearby structures with their bolts set and waiting not. For what he knew not but Baelronn tugged at the cloaks of Vorgrin and Petra to gain their attention. He could not be heard above the roar of the crowd so he began to point and wave. When they could not make out what their companion was trying to say they followed Baelronn’s stubby finger to what he was looking at and their eyes widened. The figure was no longer hooded, but standing with black plated armor and a short sword in hand.

Before the first crossbow bolt was fired, the company already started pushing their way through the crowd and calling out warnings. The Wide was so full of cheers and attention on Adrian alone that no one heard them. It wasn’t until several of the Watch guards, positioned around the stage, fell to their knees with large black bolts protruding from their chests did anyone noticed the grim situation. A tidal wave broke free as citizens, politicians, and merchants fled from the gruesome scene hoping to avoid getting hit by those nasty bolts. The Watch, guardians of the city, tried to get to the Duke, but were pushed back by the tunneled mob thinking to flee the scene rather then part ranks to allow the guards to maneuver. Baelronn and his company came to the open area in front of the stage where everyone fled for fear of their lives. The crossbowmen were already fast at work, raining down as many bolts as their may to continue the route.

Vorgrin removed the bow from his back and in the same movement, notched and arrow to it. Though the sun was rising high in the sky, the drow’s sensitive Underdark eyes had become used to the sharp sting and now welcomed it, betraying the assailants from their vantage points. His bow rang true as one wooden shaft embedded itself into the thug, who’s eyes were wide in the sudden jolt of pain. He didn’t need to see the arrow to know he had been hit. Twisting his shoulder so that it lead his fall, the man plummeted to his death and was no more. Vorgrin took to his bow again and aimed at another thug, but had to make a hasty retreat as crossbow bolts came at him in almost every angle. Clicks of the crossbows were heard in an almost perfect unison, almost as if it was one large ballista trying to skewer the lone drow. Vorgrin made a somersault and put his back against the wall.

Petra drew her sword and dirk as she moved towards the stage. Where the Watch guards one stood now held a line of grim faced thugs who produced similar weapons and took a defensive pose. She kicked off the ground and spun to bring her slender sword slashing at the first thug who was unlucky enough to be in range, draw a slender line of red blood from chest to shoulder. One thug blocked against a thrust of her dagger which she meant to use to finish off the wounded man. The two others on either side of the man stabbed forward with their swords. They hit nothing but air as Petra, who had anticipated the move, did an aerial somersault using the first thug to balance herself completely over. The changeling turned and sent her dagger into the thug’s back laying the man low. He gasped in shock as the small piece of sharp metal found it’s home into one of his lungs. He fell to the ground before the other two could come to the aid of their comrade. 

Mezzanotte, seeing Vorgrin being pinned down by the crossbow men, started chanting under her breathe. The powerful wizard pointed  her hand to a small cluster of the men and shouted a command word to finish her hellish spell. An explosion of red and gold fire arced into the thugs destroying their ranks. Their vantage point erupted in flame and debris. Two were consumed by her arcane fire while the third fell from his perch and lay very still on the ground. The remaining crossbows now pointed the elf’s way. Shouts of protest came from the men and they took aim, but before they could fire they were shrouded within a globe of darkness that no light, even the fire of an ancient dragon, could brighten. Vorgrin came to Mezzanotte then with his bow ready.

Wyrmtooth was taking the most punishment by far, taking blow after blow, making his way to the stage. He was surrounded by thugs who took great pleasure in stabbing into the brute’s blind spots. Every swing of his axe left more of him vulnerable to the thugs who got behind that massive weapon. With each stab the dragonborn roared and swatted the small men away with a sweep of his free hand. Two already lay dead at his feet in a pool of blood, but neither side was sure if it was the thugs or the dragonborn. Wyrmtooth had sustained many blows for his two short victories. He was not alone, however, as a short, bearded dwarf came from the rear, but not in range of the thug’s swords and dirks.Baelronn began praying to his goddess, Berronar, for powers of healing. The dwarf extended his hand to the dragonborn and he bathed him in a golden light, removing many of the cuts and stabs that had littered his body, though several, more serious wounds remained.

Meanwhile Adrian held his own against the attacker, known as Viekang. The two were in perfect balance of each other. Each thrust of their blades was met by the other and it, above the company’s own attack, was the loudest noise in the Wide now that many of the civilians had left the area. Viekang brought his short sword over his head and rather then bring it down, as Adrian was expecting, the man, if he was that, came in pummel first. Adrian blocked with his blade, but the force had his own sword coming to his face and smacked him hard in the forehead. A thin line of blood formed on the Duke’s face as the older man rebalanced himself and prepared for a counter. Abdel Adrian would make Viekang pay for the attack. The Duke made a double thrust both left and right, gaining some ground with every slash of his blade. He did push him back somewhat and managed to force Viekang off balance, putting all his weight in a straight forward slash thinking to bury the man under his own powerful and stubborn muscles. Viekang felt a jolt and heard the ring of metal off his right shoulder. He turned slightly to see a dagger falling to his side. His gaze lead to the crowd and saw Petra, standing tall with two crippled bodies of his thugs at her feel. The female changeling smiled as she blocked one, two, then all three of the remaining thug’s blade that had meant to take advantage of the now single weapon the woman held. In truth the woman never intended to harm the man, only to give Adrian the opening he needed to finish the battle and bring peace back into the city. Viekang, seeing the feint for what it was, quickly brought his sword into a defensive posture and put his shoulder into it, solidifying his stance. The Duke came on then, forcing his attacker to give way. Muscle fought muscle and every inch of ground was pressed hard. Victory seemed near for the duke who, like his counterpart, was dripping with sweat for the ferocious battle. Indeed both men were breathing heavier now, exhaustion not far from their thoughts.

The company worked in unison now, organized and inspired by the Duke’s small victory on the stage. Vorgrin’s bow rang out, scattering the thugs in it’s wake. Two had already fallen to the drow and soon were on the defensive. Mezzanotte offered similar resistance and cast spells of red flames along with missiles of many colors that kept the thugs from gaining much ground on the deadly pair. Wyrmtooth swatted left then right, sending any before him flying or scrambling out of his way. He made his way to his two friends,his wounds nearly healed by the dwarf cleric’s hard work, who sent frantic prayers to his god figure. Petra seemed the worst off now, trading two cuts for every stab she made. One had even tried to take off her head when she attempted an overhead maneuver to throw one thug off balance. Before the thug could retaliate he was brought down by a black arrow from the dark elf ranger who held many of his fellows in place for fear of meeting the bite of that deadly bow. Petra, not wanting to be outdone by any, especially her drow friend who needed no ego boost, she swept up one of the daggers that a dead thug still clutched and came around. She brought her sword in then out to block a thrust and brought her foot down meaning to shatter the man’s kneecaps. Backing off the woman, much like the first thug Petra had killed, he gave a gasp and looked down now seeing the feint for what it was. She had forced the thug to back off of her long enough to flip the dagger in her hand and launched it into the man’s chest. He fell on top of his companions, who met their gods before he and died.

Abdel Adrian, who did not once break concentration against this vile enemy, did take time to appreciate the coordinated defense this company had given the ambushers. The Duke made a mental note to give them many titles and gold for their heroics today, but for now he had to finish off his enemy… and fast.

Viekang came up at Adrian. His short sword thrust forward, then back, then up to slash diagonally when Adrian moved to blocked. Adrian parried the blow then started his own maneuver swinging his sword twice left and twice right, always attempting to send the man into an unbalanced stance in hope he would soon be falling off the stage. Viekang was too clever for that however, and he countered the maneuver catching the Duke’s sword with his and angling the attack so that his curved cross-guard would trap the blade and hold the man in place. Adrian felt a crack on the side of his face when Viekang took advantage of the locked blades and sent his fist forward, staggering the man. Adrian went back a couple of steps, trying to keep hold of his blade the Duke attempted to fight the disorientation. Viekang came in again and kicked the feet from under the white haired duke, causing his sword to drop out of reach. Abdel Adrian hit the floor of the stage. The wind was knocked out of his already pressed lungs and he didn’t need to see the sun beaming off his enemies blade to know that his time had come. All his long life he kept peace in the city. He alone defused situations between the various city factions, such as the Flaming Fist and the Guild, who more than once attempted to cause an all out civil war. How ironic was it that this man, though battle tested many times over, cared nothing for combat, would die by the blade and not old age as he had longed for. 

The sound of crushed bones and splintered wood brought all of the fighting to a halt. The company looked to see the tragedy of the stage duel. Abdel Adrian, beloved Duke of Baldur’s Gate, had been ran through the chest by Viekang’s sword and lay very still. Wyrmtooth gave a roar of protest and renewed his attack with abandon. Likewise Petra began to stab, slash and trust with her sword and dirk while Vorgrin spent what arrows he had left at any thug that dare block his way between him and Viekang. Mezzanotte and Baelronn took up the rear summoning spells, both arcana and divine alike, to assault their foes. Many would know the bite of her flames and the sear of Baelronn’s holy light.

A ripping sound cut threw the company’s assault and made all, even the thugs halt and give way to the spectacle that was now before them. Viekang's body began to grow and morph as the life essence of Abdel Adrian left his body and into the murderer in yellowish tendrils. All clothing, including the black plate armor that marked Viekang, broke apart falling to the stage nothing more than scrap metal. Flesh was replaced with raw muscle mass and the bones reshaped themselves to take the form of a hulking, blood-soaked, corpse that could have been a small giants or an ogres body. This was no longer Viekang, but a creature that had not been seen in many centuries in Faerùn, a Bhaalspawn Slayer. These were creatures of the Bhaal’s, God of Murder and Death, lineage and an embodiment of pure evil.The Bhaalspawn Slayer jumped from the stage and overtook two of his thugs in a single swipe of his bone and muscle covered hand. All left in attendance, save the company, renewing flight from the Wide. Even the thugs had abandoned the cause they had so payed for. Many of their companions lay dead on the ground. 

“By the gods…” said Petra as she rejoined her companions who stood before the slayer, in a safe distance; though none of them were sure what was considered a safe distance from this fiend. 

“Wyrmtooth, take up the center. Petra, you and I will flank him from either side,” said Vorgrin as he replaced his bow with his own sword and dirk and took a defensive posture. He looked at the two casters in the company. “Mezzanotte and Baelronn, use whatever spells you have left. I fear this may be the last time you will use them.” With that the dark elf took his position opposite of the changeling. Baelronn looked around to his friends. Sweat gleamed from his bearded face and he was breathing heavier now. Most of his energy went into healing Wyrmtooth from injuries and some minor ones from Vorgrin and Petra. Still, even with his divine aid the company could not hope to exchange equal blows with the creature. He looked to Mezzanotte, who in turn looked at the Bhaalspawn with more hatred the dwarf had ever seen cross that fair and beautiful fairy face. This wasn’t only a fight to avenge Duke Adrian. This was a fight for their lives.

Stay Tuned for more of “Adventures of The Company”

The story continues with “From Pan to Fire”

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Author's Note

As a new writer I look forward to constructive criticism regarding my work and welcome suggestions to improve my writing. As said before and after the short story, I own nothing within the story, save minor details involving scenes and NPC characters.

Reviews

[sohadtolba]

It is very nice. I just dont get the company thing, the word doesnt match the type of story you are writing and why posting something being crossed out? Do you mean it or was it a mistake?

I like the description .... Nice work

[Mitchell]

The Company is just what my family/friends call the group. I decided to honor our game by keeping the name in the story. As for the cross out, I will have to fix it when I have time. Thank you for your words.