Cradled in a crook of the Chionthar and often swaddled in mist, Baldur’s Gate clings tight to the granite bluffs that channel the river. Trade nursed, the city grew from pirates’ port to farmers’ fort to the bustling urban center it is today.

A DC15 Intelligence (History) check will give you more information on the city's formation if you desire it.

In times of danger, those who live in the Outer City can, if they are fast enough, retreat into the city before the gates are closed. As more and more refugee's showed up after the surprise attack from within the city, the gates were closed, and have not opened since. Anyone that was not prescient enough to run into the city during the internal attack were left to defend themselves as best they could.

This wasn't as big of a concern as one might think. Even in normal circumstances, Outer City residents would rely on neighbors and friends for justice or pay for the Guild’s protection. Despite this state of affairs, the leaderless Outer City was not ripe for conquest, since the Flaming Fist would brutally quash any such attempt. Thus, even though crime and open violence were commonplace in the Outer City, people are still able to do business. The refugee's did little to improve this situation, but the closing of the gates removed the protection of the Flaming Fist as well as the more dubious protection of the Guild.

The Guild is the only thieves' guild in Baldur's Gate. A DC20 Intelligence (Social) check can give you more information on them if desired.

The Outer City sprawls without rhyme or reason, its muddy streets a tangle of shanties, forges, tanneries, dye works, slaughterhouses, stables, stockyards, paddocks, and dung heaps. Its layout and architecture are a mess of unregulated construction and styles. Many buildings are made of wood or wattle. With the coming of the refugees the situation has become far more wretched.

Crime pays well in the Outer City, where pickpockets are rampant; undercloak slavers buy, drug, and hide new “stock”; and sellers of poisons make a killing. Without the direct threat of the Guild and the Flaming Fists, gangs of ruffians have carved new territories out of the Outer City and the refugee camps. The Red Eyes and the Governors being the most relevant gangs to your small caravan.

Despite the horrific conditions that most everyone exists in, there are still some taverns that manage to operate, under the 'protection' or flat out ownership of the gangs. Most gangs have taken over the shops and houses of those who lived here, the lucky ones weren't home when their buildings became occupied.

One warehouse, owned by the Governors, has become a gambling den. Mostly dice and cards, but a couple nights out of each tenday, bloodsports reign supreme. From animal fights to humanoid pit fights, nothing is to grisly for the braying crowds. It is here that Brer enters to commune with his god. Over the next five days, Brer makes a punishing show of his prowess and of Tempus' teachings. Brer wins every match, refusing to fight with anything less than the respect and honor his opponents deserve. By the end of the tenday, Brer's name is spoken of within the Governors territory.

Jamrion rarely stays within the camps of the Outer City, instead he wanders the grasslands beyond. Scratching out a living on what remains of the wild game. When the abundant livestock of the Outer City was depleted by the refugees, they set to hunting and trapping the lands around them. Whatever game avoided the hunt, escaped the region. It won't be long before there won't be any animals within miles of the city. The lack of game is barely enough to keep Jamrion fed, let alone cover the outrageously inflated cost of arrows he paid.

Mouse is gone most nights, working his way around, trying to sort out the confusing boundaries and relationships of the Outer City denizens. His lack of social graces hampering his every move, at one point he goes so far as to draw the ire of a Governor; a man named Nimbryn Two-Teeth. While the situation never comes to blows, Mouse is certain that the low-level gang leader is making the kenku's inquiries even more difficult. Mouse has only found frustration during his investigations.

Bricet, finding it difficult to come to terms with his inner turmoil, turns to manual labor rather than making any effort to bring his gods word to the lawless surroundings. He does well for himself, showing a natural talent for using his brawn over his legal training. Perhaps he needed the distraction from his thoughts or maybe he will forsake his god, only he knows for certain, but now he has a bit more coin in his purse to pursue whichever way he decides.

Roscoe turns to the arts, busking along the muddy streets of Outer City, his one-man plays become sought after entertainment by the the locals and eventually draw the attention of the Red Eyes. It isn't long before his shows are taking place next to one of their properties where Roscoe makes a tidy profit from the crowds and the not so small investment from the gang. Roscoe thinks that he was likely used as bait to draw the crowds in as the gangs fleeced them, but if they were doing so, they were never sloppy enough for the halfling to catch them in the act. In the end, Roscoe gains quite the reputation as an entertainer, and between he and Brer, the small band of Elturans camped at the outskirts of the Outer City has grown as more refugees seek protection and solace.

The fear that underlies everything around Baldur's Gate is intensified when rumors of a particularly gruesome murder spread through the Outer City like a burning fever. The tales range in their veracity, but what is certain, is that a member of the Governors was found murdered, his body mutilated in some twisted form of an eye-for-eye punishment. The words painted in his blood along a wall, made that very clear.