Dangers in Baldur's Gate

Crime is a powerful force in the city. Fearsome creatures hunt along cobbled streets, and the worship of evil deities continues to rise.

The Guild

The organization known simply as the Guild unites cutpurses, loan sharks, killers, thugs, con artists, grave robbers, cat burglars, and every other type of criminal in the city. The Guild operates under the noses of the Watch and the Flaming Fist by adroitly keeping its illicit activities quiet.
Each city neighborhood falls under control of one or more kingpins, crime bosses who report to the head of the Guild. These kingpins style themselves as elite criminals, often adopting memorable nicknames and distinctively decadent dress. Scores of common criminals work beneath each kingpin, with the most competent and cutthroat members rising to favored status.
Some kingpins keep strictly to the shadows, but others operate more openly. Particularly in the Outer City, citizens often know their local kingpin. A kingpin might receive requests for help from citizens, asking for loans or dealing with unauthorized crime, such as a thieving neighbor. A kingpin tracks these favors and debts, calling them in when it suits them — often with interest.
Rivalries exist between kingpins, and their territorial borders shift constantly. As long as these internal feuds don’t disrupt Guild business or draw the attention of the authorities, no one interferes. Recent rumors claim that an Outer City kingpin known as Straightstick is calling in all his favors to make a move on a Lower City turf. Crossing the wall is riskier than the average power play, and those in the know predict the coming conflict to be a bloody one.
Guild operations in the Outer City center on smuggling and gambling. Some violent crime and theft occur, but for the most part, Outer City residents are too poor to draw the attention of the Guild. Travelers and visitors do fall victim to pickpocketing, muggings, and assault, though. As the Flaming Fist rarely comes to the district, the Guild has long operated with impunity. In recent years, though, the interference of vigilantes and hired adventurers has been on the rise.
The Lower City serves as the heart of the Guild’s operations. The locals here have enough money to make burglary and protection schemes worthwhile, and the Flaming Fist is spread too thin to address every instance of petty crime. The Guild’s operations widen to numerous commercial ventures, such as gambling dens, animal fights, races, and brawling tournaments. Their traffickers also maintain routes into other districts, and guide individuals and illicit trade through them for a fee. Those who oppose the Guild — typically by going to the Flaming Fist — invite retaliation upon themselves and their neighbors. This makes most folk afraid to report crimes and pressures their neighbors to keep quiet as well.
In the Upper City, the Guild engages in burglary, extortion, blackmail, and confidence games. Patriars might even hire Guild members to gain (or plant) information about their rivals, involving the Guild in Upper City politics.
Only the most talented criminals dare to burgle patriar estates, but the lower ranks of a kingpin’s operation often work as pickpockets or try to con residents of the district. Here, the Watch zealously monitors for Guild activities and targets anyone threatening the peace. Kingpins can often come to an agreement with the Watch, though, offering bribes so that Watch officers look the other way. Every month, the kingpin makes their payment to the Watch and selects a new safe word. Guild members caught by the Watch utter the safe word to avoid arrest. Rival kingpins and unaffiliated criminals looking to work in the Upper City pay well for the month’s safe word, though any member of the Guild found selling the information faces harsh punishment.

Nine-Fingers Keene

The current leader of the Guild, Nine-Fingers Keene, disdains flashy garb and illusion magic. She appears to the world as she is: an unassuming woman of middling age and build. Her forgettable looks have proven her greatest asset as a thief, as her victims have trouble recognizing her even when they meet her again face-to-face. Keene’s leadership over the years earned her a reputation of thoughtful pragmatism. When necessary, she seeks revenge for offenses against the Guild — provided doing so is profitable. Her methods are vicious when necessary, and she is as feared as she is respected.
Keene has become increasingly intolerant of the populous tide turning against her organization. While the occasional rabble-rouser has always impeded criminal business, the rise of organized crews and vigilantes is interfering with Guild operations. After a carefully coordinated attack on a patriar’s estate fell to pieces when a vigilante clumsily alerted the estate guards, Keene declared open season on do-gooders of all stripes.

The Dead Three

The plots of patriars and the schemes of Guild operatives fill the gossip and whispers of Baldur’s Gate. Yet, throughout the city, no names are as synonymous with dastardly acts as those of Dead Three. The demigods Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul walk among mortals, personally seeking followers to their cause. More than once, it’s rumored, the trio has even trod the streets of Baldur’s Gate.
Nefarious patriars whisper prayers to Bane when they seek to gain power through coercion, intimidation, and forceful exaction of the law. Gang leaders, evil mercenaries, and others who rely on fear and control, also pay homage to Bane. Those who want to evoke dominance and ruthlessness favor wearing black gloves — a nod to Bane’s holy symbol.
Myrkul claims a following among those who wish to learn from or command the dead. Those who plunder tombs for lost knowledge, grim entrepreneurs who see business sense in undead servants, even pragmatic necromancers seeking to conjure secrets from the wealthy dead of Cliffside Cemetery all whisper prayers to Myrkul. Of the Dead Three, Myrkul’s base of power is the smallest. Residents of Baldur’s Gate rarely fear death by old age — a grim fact of living in such a dangerous city. As a result, few desperate elders seek the blessing of the Lord of Bones. Those who do, though, tend to be both cagey and wealthy, which means that although Myrkul’s worshipers are small in number, their resources have hidden depths.
Since the time when the Bhaalspawn Sarevok plotted to start a war between Baldur’s Gate and Amn as a path to claiming Bhaal’s power, awareness of the Lord of Murder’s children has grown. Baldur’s Gate maintains a grim draw for Bhaalspawn, whether due to some foul influence in the city itself, or merely because of Sarevok’s lingering reputation.
At the same time, worship of Bhaal proves darkly popular in Baldur’s Gate. Few openly admit to worshiping the Lord of Murder, but there is an unspoken assumption that anyone who benefits from violent death has some respect for Bhaal. Assassination and murder underpin many of the plots in the city, from the business of highly-paid killers on patriar payrolls to slayings of opportunity committed by Outer City fanatics. Such bloodthirsty faithful rarely gather in numbers, but they typically mark themselves by carving a fresh gouge on their thumbs — spilling their blood in Bhaal’s name while creating a subtle mark identifying that identifies them among allies. Despite the Lord of Murder’s decentralized worship, some believe a temple to Bhaal exists near or under the city, possibly in an ancient chamber beneath the sewers or carved into Dusthawk Hill. Rumor holds that eleven red crystals on the wall of the temple grow brighter with every murder committed, gathering power for either Bhaal or one of his future chosen. Some claim that Bhaal himself regularly visits the temple, his presence contributing to the city’s high murder rate.
While the Dead Three occupy a prominent place in Baldurians’ fears, their faiths currently have only the shallowest roots in the city. Followers of the Dead Three have done more to incite dread than faith. As a result, their numbers remain relatively small. Their sinister reputations outstrip their actual influence, though, with gossip spreading quickly whenever the deities’ ominous symbols appear in graffiti or the Flaming Fist cracks down on overzealous fanatics. Despite public fears and resistance from law enforcement, the cults of the Dead Three persist, causing many to darkly wonder why the servants of Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul hold such interest in Baldur’s Gate.

PROMINENT GUILD KINGPINS

All Guild operations are overseen by kingpins, a handful of which are described below.
Goblin Behnie. Most are surprised to find Goblin Behnie looks nothing like his name or monstrous reputation suggest, the Bloomridge kingpin being a tall, polished-looking gentleman in his early thirties. The name comes from his ferocious ego, wild rages, and a propensity for biting off the fingers of those who disappoint him. Behind his viciousness, though, Goblin Behnie has a keen eye, making him and his forgers the city’s best source of illicit Watch tokens (for passage into the Upper City), visitor licenses, and docking permits.
Straightstick. The kingpin of the Twin Songs Faithless runs one of the city’s best smuggling operations, slipping goods into the city along the Chionthar River and over Dusthawk Hill. The seventy-year-old claims to have been attacked by the infamous (and doubtfully real) Ol’ Cholms, a giant snapping turtle rumored to sleep at the bottom of Gray Harbor. To prove his story, Straightstick uses a splinted old ferry pole as a crutch. Recently, the kingpin has grown bitter about his position, believing he deserves a territory within Baldur’s Gate proper. He’s planning an attack on Brampton, the destination of much of his smuggling and the territory of his ex-wife, Diamond Urchin.
The Whiskey Lady. Few know that the last true heir of the Raddle patriar family died several years ago. Despite this, “Dowager Raddle” continues to throw lavish social events at her estate, though she never personally attends. Instead, her supposed relative welcomes guests, engaging them with sharp wit, hard liquor, political gossip, and political opportunities of “gray” legality. No one seem to know their host’s name, though — a faux pas none would ever admit. As a result, the Manorborn neighborhood’s politically active Guild kingpin is known only as the Whiskey Lady.

Murder

Blackmail and theft pay well, but murder is the preferred tool of the ambitious. Murder silences witnesses, disposes of enemies, and clears the path to power. Assassins never lack for work in Baldur’s Gate.
In the Outer City, murder is practically a way of life. With neither the Watch nor the Flaming Fist to look after residents, criminals run free in the sprawling district. Criminals use murder to keep order among their ranks and remove threats to their organization. So-called “snuff streets” hold the bodies of the dead, dumped by their murderers in piles along the lane. The most desperate of Outer City residents prowl the snuff streets, hoping to find a missed copper piece or a salvageable boot to pawn. They strip the teeth from bodies, cut off hair that might fetch a coin, and sometimes — it is rumored — slice flesh from the corpses to stave off starvation. Recent reports of ghoul activity in the Outer City likely have their origins in these snuff streets.
In the Lower City, murder is less common but remains a threat. Long-time residents know to travel in groups after dark. Those looking to earn a few coins sometimes linger outside of taverns, hiring out as escorts for drunken patrons. Revelers can stay as late as they wish and still get home safely, provided they hire someone trustworthy to guard their trip home.
Most murders in the Lower City have reasons behind them. The merchant found with his throat cut and pockets emptied, the husband murdered so his wife can marry her young mistress, the tyrannical shop owner stabbed by a desperate underling — residents understand these crimes. What frightens people are the senseless murders. The man found ripped to pieces with his pockets still full of gold, the woman slaughtered so viciously that her grieving husband is sent to the asylum, the shop owner who suddenly strikes down his faithful clerk — these are the crimes that lead to panic and wild rumors.
Some commoners claim that something about the city itself sparks violence in its citizens. A popular theory is that the spirits of the vicious pirates that once sailed the harbors still influence the city. Another is that the spirit of the long-executed serial murderer Alhasval Drenz, the Whitkeep Whistler, still stalks the city, possessing innocents to continue her unmatched killing spree.
It’s unclear whether the rise of Bhaal’s faith in Baldur’s Gate stems from the frequency of murders, or if the murders spring from the worship of Bhaal. The Flaming Fist suspects a group of Bhaal worshipers behind a spate of recent similar murders, the victims stabbed to death and their own blood dribbled like a crown around their heads. The Fist’s investigations have not yet resulted in an arrest, but officers suspect the murderers to be commoners with seemingly unremarkable lives covering their true, bloodthirsty natures.
In the Upper City, murder brings results. Muggings and crimes of opportunity are rare here. The Watch keeps Upper City residents safe from criminals and riffraff. The biggest threat to patriars are other patriars.
Bribery and blackmail can secure votes or sway an allegiance temporarily, but murder permanently changes the makeup of the Parliament of Peers. Several elite assassins exclusively take on political targets. The Watch puts little effort into tracking down expert assassins, knowing that arresting one means possibly exposing a whole cadre of powerful patriars. The wrath that would fall on the Watch isn’t worth putting one assassin in the cells.