THE LORD OF MURDER SHALL PERISH, BUT
in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny.
Chaos will be sown from their passage...
                                    —Ancient prophecy

  One year ago, the Sword Coast was nearly plunged into a war. A mercantile organization known as the Iron Throne manipulated the great nations of Baldur’s Gate and Amn toward war, eager for the profits that would come from such a conflict. The plans of the Iron Throne were exposed and undone by a group of intrepid adventurers and wizards known as the Harpers.

  Although war was averted, the Iron Throne was merely a front which disguised much greater threats. The leaders of the Iron Throne had unwisely involved themselves with many dangerous entities. They hired unscrupulous wizards to study magical secrets that were better forgotten. They made pacts with power-hungry men who wished to become gods. They hired shapeshifting assassins who could infiltrate the throne rooms of great kingdoms. Although
the Iron Throne has been shattered, the evil that they unleashed still lurks within the city of Baldur’s Gate.

 You know all about this because one of your friends' reach out to you with a rumor that a man named Khalid, has sent out an urgent missive looking for characters of trustworthy nature. Same friend let it be known that he is a Harper agent and that you must be on your way to the Coast Way called the Friendly Arm Inn. As soon as it is possible.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:21, Sat 21 Nov 2020.

The Friendly Arms Inn is ran out of an old stone keep at the center of a small hamlet along the Coast Way. It is a stopping point for many caravans coming from Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter, nations of Amn, Calimshan, Tethyr.

The hamlet itself located on the hill, with keep almost hovering above it. You can see the keep as you clear the forest. The air smells of hot food and sweet mead, your weary feet are aching for a decent bed.

As you make your way towards the hamlet, then towards the inn, then up the large set of stairs (one may wonder how any drunkards broke their necks climbing down these stairs after a night of fun). Heavy wood doors open into a cozy tap room bathed in warm lantern light. The inn is packed with patrons dressed in varying attire both familiar and exotic. Scattered among them stand a handful of well-armored soldiers who all wear a distinctive insignia of a clenched fist wreathed in fire. As you cross the inn’s threshold, one such soldier approaches you, holding out a gauntleted arm. He says, “You won’t be needing weapons here. Leave them with me, and I’ll return them upon your departure.”

Sundos smiled and nodded to the soldier. "Sure thing. How is the duty here?" Sundos handed over his spear, then his crossbow. He 'forgot' to hand over his hand axe until the soldier asks for it. "My name is Sundos. Don't forget who gave you those weapons."

He reflected that not too long ago in another hamlet much like this town, Sundos was the soldier asking others to turn in their weapons. It was much easier to ask people for their weapons before they started drinking. It's been interesting since he left the service. But now he is getting the travel he didn't experience much in the army.

He walked to the bar and ordered some ale and and food. He found the only empty table and sat down with his mug to wait for the food. He was starving. Without thinking he lightly caressed his amulet of Lathander. Sundos has been on the road all day and was tired and hungry. He smiled as he watched all of the strangers from distance lands and enjoyed the different accents he heard.

[Private to Dungeon Master: I wasn't sure if I was allowed to post or not. I hope it's alright. ]