Upper City

The Upper City, home to the patriar aristocracy of Baldur’s Gate, is a place of beauty and splendor, where magnificent public sculptures stand alongside historic manors, upscale theaters and boutiques, and tiny stone-walled gardens tucked among the streets like hidden jewels. Flowers bloom along the tree-lined streets, ushering away any stray miasma that escapes from the less fortunate quarters below. Silks and velvets, gold braid and mink, water-clear diamonds and luminous pearls: these are common sights in the Upper City, and hardly glimpsed elsewhere except as cheap imitations.
Everything in the Upper City speaks of privilege and wealth. Magical lights illuminate the clean-swept streets, some bearing enchantments that hold back the river fog. Most of the city’s major temples are located in this district, flagrant evidence of how the faiths value the city’s wealthy elite over congregants with shallower pockets. The finest wine shops, ateliers, and jewelers are all in the Upper City, where the Watch’s nightly ritual of expelling all non-residents reinforces their air of luxurious exclusivity. Those without either Watch-issued tokens or a patriars’ vouchsafe must leave at nightfall, without exception.
Residents of the Upper City feel great pressure to maintain outward appearances, and will keep their estate’s facade finely maintained even at the cost of pawning everything within. Admitting to poverty in this district is admitting to shameful failure.
The patriars’ unabashed snobbery fosters deep resentment among denizens of the Lower City and Outer City, who can see the good life enjoyed before their eyes but are excluded from all but the smallest tastes. The Watch is merciless about turning beggars and malcontents away from the gates, where an erratically enforced entry toll for non-residents and those without Watch tokens or escorts effectively bars the poor from setting foot within this district. A patriar caught outside the Upper City after dark, therefore, is at high risk of robbery, beating, or worse.

Gates

The Old Wall, built at Balduran’s behest centuries ago, surrounds the Upper City. Six gates pierce it, channeling the district’s visitors and commerce. Entering the Upper City requires either being a patriar, having a patriar’s letter or livery, showing a Watch token issued to the Upper City’s residents or licensed to its few inns for guest use, or paying an entry toll. Tokens and tolls are only accepted at Citadel Gate, Baldur’s Gate, and the Black Dragon Gate, since the other gates are reserved for the exclusive use of patriars, their servants, and their guests.
Black Dragon Gate. Named for the dragon’s head that a victorious knight once hung upon its arch, the Black Dragon Gate faces the road heading north toward distant Waterdeep. The original dragon’s head is long gone, but a stone replacement snarls above the gate’s arch. Local legend claims that the stone head will magically spew acid at attackers if the city should ever fall under siege.
Citadel Gate. The only entrance to the Watch’s fortress, Citadel Gate nestles into the Upper City’s landward wall. The Watch maintains a small cavalry, nominally for defense and crowd control, but primarily for parades, honor escorts, and other ceremonial functions. Because of this, the Citadel maintains the only stable within the city walls.
Patriar Gates. The four gates known collectively as the patriar gates — Gond Gate, Heap Gate, Manor Gate, and Sea Gate — are smaller and are generally not accessible by the general public. They were built after the construction of the Lower City walls and were intended to offer patriars convenient access from their homes to their business concerns and back. Privately funded by the patriars, and thus serving as a display of their personal success, these gates are more ornate and tightly guarded than the public gates. Officially, none may use them without bearing a patriar’s livery or letter of permission, although rumors persist that Guild kingpins and veteran servants among several patriar staffs know exactly which guards to bend. Regardless, the visible double standard imposed at these gates is a constant gall to Lower City residents forced to take longer routes through the public gates because they cannot use the ones in their own neighborhoods.

Neighborhoods

While most outsiders see only rampant luxury among the Upper City’s streets, the district’s residents perceive a wide spectrum of style and status. Wealth and taste as much as location serve to divide the Upper City into a variety of distinct neighborhoods.
Citadel Streets. The northern part of the Upper City is dominated by the Watch Citadel, where the Watch conducts training, maintains its barracks and stable, and keeps a few jail cells. Beyond the Citadel, this neighborhood includes many shops and the comparatively modest, though still grand, houses that belong to the few non-patriar residents of the Upper City.
Manorborn. The most palatial residences lie on the Upper City’s west side. Most of the Parliament of Peers live here, as do the old, proud families who trace their lineages back to Balduran’s day. Climbing gardens, fountained courtyards, and private orchards adorn many of these elegant homes.
Temples. Grand cathedrals and shrines shape the skyline in this central neighborhood, with Gond’s High House of Wonders foremost among them. Priests in ceremonial finery and congregants dressed for the public eye are a common sight in this part of the city. Humbler petitioners are rare, though some come doggedly day after day, paying the tolls for hope each time.
The Wide. The primary market and largest civic space in Baldur’s Gate is the Wide, where sellers set up their stalls and put out their wares each day at dawn. Street music and noisy performances are forbidden, and every night the sellers who are not Upper City residents must pack up and leave. Bustling by day, the Wide is desolate at night, except on holidays and when hosting grand celebrations.

The Old Wall

The original wall built during Balduran’s day, which encloses the Upper City and separates it from the Lower City, occupies an outsize place in the city’s history and imagination. As the original relic of the city’s first borders — and, more importantly for daily life, the physical embodiment of the division between patriars and ordinary citizens — the Old Wall is a symbol for much that Baldurians both admire and resent about their city.
Most of the Old Wall was rebuilt following revolts early in the city’s history, then reinforced during every major period of tumult that troubled Baldur’s Gate afterward. Each push for renewal saw a conflict between Gondan engineers advocating for new building techniques and materials, and patriars and preservationists striving to protect the original architecture. Meanwhile, smugglers and Guild agents bribed building crews, altered blueprints, and otherwise put their fingers in the plans at every turn to steer reinforcement efforts away from their own secret passageways or induce builders to make new ones.
After centuries of such unreliable maintenance, the Old Wall stands proud and strong, but only outwardly so. In truth, the barrier is riddled with numerous secret holes through — or, more often, underneath — its stones. Knowledge of such secret passages’ locations is jealously guarded, and the hidden ways are used only sparingly, for the risk of discovery is too great to use them routinely. Nevertheless, if the Old Wall were ever to be seriously tested, its defenders might find it far less impenetrable than it seems.
GREEN LIGHTS IN THE FOG
Baldur’s Gate has a couple interesting features not mentioned elsewhere in this gazetteer.
Fog. One of the reasons why pirates find Gray Harbor attractive is the thick fog that shrouds the river, the docks, and most of the Lower City. The persistent fog makes it easy to conduct illicit business or commit a murder without anyone catching sight of the “interaction” through a spyglass. The fog sometimes creeps into the Upper City as well, but here it’s much too thin to veil crimes.
Green Lights. In Baldur’s Gate, lit lanterns fitted with panes of green glass are hung outside of permanent establishments to indicate that they’re open for business. On foggy nights, these lanterns cast the city’s lively taverns, dance halls, and fest halls in eerie green light.

Patriar Manors

The great houses of the patriars are the wellspring of their pride and the center of high society. A manor stands as proof that the family held anchor in Baldur’s Gate when the Old Wall was raised, and that its line has remained prosperous and unbroken since. Even on the rare occasion that a patriar manor changes hands entirely, the new owner generally goes to great lengths to prove — or fabricate — some connection, however tenuous, to the previous holder’s line.
Most patriar manors are townhomes rather than free-standing mansions, for the Upper City has always been constrained by its walls, and even the wealthiest families are limited to narrow footprints. In general, patriar manors have only small courtyard gardens, and rely on vertical arrangements such as espaliered fruit trees, trellised roses and wisteria, and vines trained along the house’s walls.
Because of the manors’ storied pasts and small spaces, most manors are crowded with heirlooms and treasures accumulated across generations. Occasionally, however, a manor’s grand facade hides destitution. Estates are expensive to maintain, and dynasties are prone to decline. Although no patriar would ever openly admit to lacking money, quite a few are hunting marriages with wealthy outsiders who might bring an influx of capital and ambition to their moribund lines.

Upper City Gazetteer

Despite its well-policed streets and decorous homes, the Upper City harbors secrets both marvelous and scandalous. Some of its most notable locales are described below in alphabetical order. These locations are also marked on the map of Baldur’s Gate (map 6.2).

Bormul House

Situated in the Manorborn neighborhood, Bormul House is an elegant three-story townhouse of yellow granite and slate with cream-colored roses climbing its garden walls. Last spring, a distant uncle came for a holiday visit, bringing a large load of baggage. The house servants acted strangely during his visit, though the Bormuls attributed this to a bout of shellfish poisoning that afflicted many households that spring. Days later, the uncle departed, leaving some of his curios behind. The Bormuls, lacking space to store these unwanted things in the manor, moved them to the family crypt beneath the house. There they lie now, largely forgotten.
Not long after, shantytown residents in the Outer City began suffering brutal attacks by a silent murderer wearing an archaic, threadbare patriar’s cloak. Many have glimpsed this pale killer, but no one has ever been able to confront or follow the murderer to his lair, for he seems to melt into the city’s fog after each slaying.

Distant Shores

Tendai and Khennen Shore (chaotic good human commoners) are a married couple that runs a successful business importing dried meats, spices, authentic cookware, and traditional recipes from Port Nyanzaru, where the rest of Tendai’s family lives. Their premixed assortments of ajwain, coriander, ginger, various curries, and colored salts have done much to bring Chultan delicacies to patriar tables.
Despite their success, the Shores’ business is straight forward and unpretentious, attracting attention from business prospectors interested in buying the couple out and expanding the business. The Shores have no interest in selling, despite numerous offers from patriar families and anonymous buyers. As a result, in recent weeks Distant Shores has suffered vandalism and the owners have received threatening letters.

Eomane House

The four Eomane siblings are notorious throughout the Upper City for the scandalous masked revels hosted at their manor. Nysene Eomane, a lawful evil female human noble, likes to extend invitations to hopeful social climbers from other districts, intending to trap them at her parties. Lacking Watch tokens, Nysene’s guests face a night in the Citadel’s cells or worse if they’re caught in the Upper City after dark. They therefore have little choice but to let her and her friends make cruel sport of them until they can Escape at daybreak. As yet, none of Nysene’s playthings have suffered any real harm, but her games grow ever bolder and more vicious, and it’s only a matter of time until someone is seriously hurt.
While Nysene’s siblings — Dolandre, Rusorra, and Trenteller — view this behavior as embarrassing and unworthy of her station, they also don’t care enough to stop her, since the victims are social inferiors whose welfare isn’t worth interrupting their own revels. It’s also likely that her siblings are in denial about the true extent of their sister’s sadism. Some of the city’s evil faiths have begun to take notice of Nysene’s games, however, with Bane’s faith seeing a talent worth cultivating in Eomane House.

Hall of Wonders

This large, stately building serves as a quasi-religious museum for the magnificent inventions wrought in Gond’s name. Unlike the similarly named High House of Wonders, which serves as both temple and workshop housing working prototypes not yet ready for public view, the Hall of Wonders is meant to showcase Gond’s perfected inspirations. It holds marvels ranging from lockboxes cleverly disguised as ordinary furniture to unparalleled wonders such as a steam-operated mechanical orchestra, a steam “dragon” powering a heavy engine for moving immense weights, and elaborate orreries and nautical tools. Small cards posted beneath each display indicate the purpose of these curious tools and credit the inventors and lands of origin, where known.
Persistent rumors hold that a hidden treasure vault, guarded by clockwork monsters, lies beneath the Hall of Wonders. These tales are true: beneath the grand altar in the Hall of Wonders is a complex pressure-plate system that opens a secret passageway leading beneath the temple. One can follow this path to a series of safe rooms secured by mechanical devices. Some safe rooms hold treasures of the faith, while others are rented to wealthy individuals who wish to keep their prizes under the highest possible security.

Harbreeze Bakery

Famous for its whimsically painted cinnamon cookies and sugarbread loaves, the Harbreeze Bakery is a cherished neighborhood institution. The shop makes good use of the vibrant commerce that runs through Baldur’s Gate, showcasing rare spices in its wares and keeping a wide selection of exotic teas for its sophisticated clientele. It is a favorite place for patriars to gossip through the afternoon, and Ellyn Harbreeze, the plump redheaded proprietor (a lawful neutral female human spy), knows about every significant development in her clients’ social circles. Anyone seeking society gossip is well advised to begin at the Harbreeze Bakery.

Helm and Cloak

The Helm and Cloak draws an unusual mixture of well-heeled but unpretentious patriars, traveling nobles, famed bards, and socially ambitious Lower City residents hoping to rub shoulders with the elite. The inn is unfussy, but conducts its service with flawless technique and the finest ingredients: it serves roast chicken rather than peacocks or partridges, and the fish never have that distinctive Gray Harbor film.
The establishment consists of two buildings joined as a single enterprise. The Helm is a rooming house with an entryway shadowed by an immense iron helm that supposedly belonged to a fire giant. The Cloak, slightly smaller, is signaled by the bright flutter of a Sunite cloak draped over its porch. Both buildings are decorated with adventuring trophies both exotic and mundane, including a bronze-horned marble unicorn bust in the Helm’s common room. Its horn, which patrons often rub for good luck, is as shiny as the day it was made.
The Helm and Cloak has long attracted idealistic sons and daughters from patriar families. For generations, these young romantics, taking the god Lurue as their inspiration, have called themselves the Knights of the Unicorn. Over time, what began as a light-hearted lark became a real force for good in the world, and several of the early knights achieved renown for their heroics. Today, the Knights of the Unicorn continue to call the Helm and Cloak their informal headquarters. The establishment is even run by two retired members, Vedren and Halesta (neutral good human knights). The couple’s presence shapes the inn’s clientele significantly, and the unicorn bust in the Helm’s common room honors their origins in this place.

High Hall

The High Hall is the center of almost all governmental activity in Baldur’s Gate. The Parliament of Peers and the Council of Four meet here, and each of the four dukes has a sumptuous office and discreetly appointed meeting rooms. Criminal trials, tax counts, and professional guild meetings also take place in the High Hall.
Most criminal trials are presided over by a proxy judge appointed by one of the four dukes, and most are resolved as a simple administrative matter that proceeds from arraignment to sentencing within minutes. Unless an impartial witness or evidence of questionable circumstances is brought to the court’s attention, the word of a Flaming Fist or Watch officer suffices to convict, and the judge has only to stamp a seal on the paperwork that the guards have already prepared. This results in a certain degree of corruption, naturally, which is compounded by the proxy judge’s near-absolute discretion in deciding whether to accept a conviction or exonerate a suspect. Bribery and influence-peddling run rife through the courts, where honest judges are rare and widely feared.
In addition to hosting trials, the High Hall holds libraries containing all local laws and ordinances, summaries of judicial decisions and trial outcomes, deed records, guild charters, census tallies, and family genealogies for all the noble houses and sufficiently important commoners. The records go back to the city’s founding, encompassing centuries of meticulously maintained documents. The libraries don’t share a common index, and sorting through their overlapping and idiosyncratically organized holdings can be confusing, so most people opt to pay one of the resident librarians to locate what they need.
Finally, the ground floor of the High Hall’s easternmost wing contains a museum to the history of Baldur’s Gate and a mausoleum for its many dukes and heroes. Statues of ancient notables, including Balduran himself, loom over caskets containing their dusty bones — or, in Balduran’s case, a glass casket containing all that lingers from the city’s vanished founder: the age-cracked remnants of his cloak, longsword, shield, and favorite spyglass.

High House of Wonders

This vast workshop is the center of Gond’s Religion in Baldur’s Gate. Every day, the anvils and worktables that fill the High House of Wonders ring with the clamor of hammer and saw. Under the scrutiny of the meticulous High Artificer Andar Beech, a neutral male human priest, inventors work alongside priests and acolytes beside masters of all disciplines. Because the creations in these workshops are largely experimental prototypes, they are not deemed fit for public view.
Gond’s temple doesn’t flourish in Baldur’s Gate by simple happenstance. While there are certainly more industrious and academic cities along the Sword Coast, in few other places could Gond’s faithful have access to more and rarer resources with less oversight. The city cares more about the clerics’ innovations than the morality of those creations or how they came into being. Rumors claim that the High House of Wonders maintains a secret testing facility in or just outside the city.
Ostensibly, Gond’s priests offer healing and other magical services to anyone willing to pay. However, priests often prove so caught up with their projects that they’re reticent to attend to any but those with the most novel wounds and provocative ailments.

Hhune House

The power of the Hhunes waxes and wanes like the moon, but other patriar families maintain a healthy fear of them because the Hhunes have powerful connections up and down the Sword Coast that could make life difficult for would-be rivals.
The elderly widow Lutecia Hhune, a lawful evil female human noble, presides over this smallish manor. Lutecia has estranged siblings but no children, and faces the prospect of leaving her family home to a detested branch of the family when she dies. To prevent this, she has asked the librarians of the High Hall to search patriar genealogies for a more acceptable heir.
Lutecia’s request was assigned to a Guild-connected librarian named Virmele, a lawful evil female human spy who is entertaining bribes from Lower City merchants and underworld figures to fabricate a link to the Hhune family. More than the patriar estate itself is at stake, for Lutecia’s late husband was an avid map collector and antiquarian whose personal library holds many rarities from far-off lands. Should Lutecia be cheated out of finding a proper heir, it is likely that both her family’s legacy and the secrets hidden in her late husband’s collection will fall into unscrupulous hands. On the other hand, if Virmele’s corruption were exposed, the Guild might be irritated at the loss of a profitable scheme.
Lutecia’s valet is Kaddrus, a cambion that takes the form of a strikingly handsome man half her age. Kaddrus was sent by powerful nobles in Tethyr to protect the Hhune family’s secrets, which include a connection to the Knights of the Shield, a secret society tied to the Shield of the Hidden Lord. This shield recently disappeared from the crypts under the Hhune estate, and Kaddrus is assisting efforts to get the shield back and punish those responsible for its theft. Lutecia is content to leave this task in his capable hands.

Lady’s Hall

Tymora’s temple in Baldur’s Gate is made of local yellow granite, roofed with slate shingles, and inconspicuously blended into the surrounding architecture. Recently added to the structure are beautiful mosaics depicting souls prevailing against ill fortune at sea.
Other than holding formal religious observances — which most of Tymora’s faithful only attend on major holidays — the primary purpose of the temple is to accept requests, and large donations, from petitioners seeking the temple’s intercession. For countless reasons, Baldurians are reluctant to trust the Watch, the Flaming Fist, or the Guild. When they find it necessary to seek aid from an influential organization, such people often turn to Lady Luck for help. The Lady’s Hall is there to hear their pleas, and to accept their offerings in exchange. While such intercession often takes the form of blessings, magical or otherwise, clergy moved by a tale of exceptional injustice might be swayed to petition the church elders to intercede. Such happens rarely, the church being unwilling to jeopardize its standing by pitting itself against every specific injustice laid at its doorstep. Yet, members of the clergy often anonymously reach out to the adventurers that congregate near their temple, sponsoring small acts of justice whenever they can.

Ramazith’s Tower

Six stories high and built of weathered red brick in a cylindrical, pagoda-style structure, Ramazith’s Tower is considered a unique landmark by some and a regrettable eyesore by others. It was built nearly a century ago by the eccentric wizard Ramazith, a sailor from faraway Durpar who acquired a vast knowledge of the deeps — and equally vast wealth. Ramazith had not been known as either an exceptional mariner or an exceptional arcanist before he came into enough money to build his tower, and the source of his success remains a mystery.
Not long after the tower was completed, Ramazith died under suspicious circumstances. Some say he met his end after an ill-fated dalliance with a nymph, but rumors have always persisted that his death was linked to his unlikely ascent. One version holds that the nymph exacted revenge for some terrible crime Ramazith committed against her people to gain his power, while another rumor suggests his soul was itself the price of his bargain. Whatever the truth, Ramazith’s tower stood empty for decades before it was acquired a few years ago by Lorroakan, a young and short-tempered mage known for having expensive tastes and a perpetual shortage of funds. Lorroakan hails from the city of Athkatla to the south, and local gossip holds that he’s a disgraced Cowled Wizard who may even be a fugitive from the powerful House Selemchant in Amn.
Lorroakan, a neutral male human mage, makes his living by enchanting clothes to repel moisture and mildew, a practical but humble pursuit that suggests his mastery of magic is not extensive. This, in turn, might explain why he has not reopened the tower’s upper floors, confining his own activities to the first and a small portion of the second floor.
Lorroakan’s ever-pressing need for money has led the mage to begin looking for hired hands who might be willing to venture into the long-shuttered heights of Ramazith’s tower and uncover the secret of the late wizard’s wealth. That Ramazith’s secret may have brought him to an untimely end, and that Lorroakan is himself no more skilled — and perhaps significantly less so — than the tower’s previous master does not seem to concern him.

Rillyn House

Though one of the most honorable patriar families in Baldur’s Gate, the Rillyns fell into poverty a few generations ago. Only recently have they revived their fortunes, the credit for their newfound prosperity going squarely to Yvandre Rillyn, a neutral female human veteran who returned to Baldur’s Gate after many years serving with the Flaming Fist and other mercenary companies — a career that began in rebellion against her stodgy family.
Realizing that her family needed a long term source of financial support, Yvandre opened a sword-wielding school in a guest house adjoining her family’s estate. The Rillyn School is about to graduate its first class of students, all of whom have trained with Yvandre for at least five years and have won her approval with their skill. As Yvandre is a hard teacher, this is an impressive feat, and her students are justly proud. She hopes that they’ll spread her name throughout the region and win acclaim for the school. In the meantime, she continues to enroll young students, keeping those with promise and weeding out the rest. Some of those who failed to make the cut, embittered by their perceived humiliation, nurse grudges against Yvandre and her house.

Three Old Kegs

Named for its sign, three lashed-together barrels hanging from a pole, the Three Old Kegs is popular with current and retired members of the Flaming Fist. It serves simple and hearty meals, keeps a variety of good-quality but inexpensive wines and beers, and tolerates no rowdiness among its clientele. Rooms are available for both short- and long-term stays, and the Three Old Kegs offers laundry, mending, repair, and sharpening services to its guests. Its reasonable prices and welcoming atmosphere have led several retired Flaming Fist mercenaries to adopt the place as a full-time residence. These long-term regulars act as additional security, making the Three Old Kegs one of the safest places for visitors to stay in Baldur’s Gate.
The proprietors, three wart-covered brothers in their late fifties known collectively as the “Three Old Toads,” are named Alstan, Brunkhum, and Klalbrot Wintersides — all neutral good male human commoners. The Three Old Toads are known to be soft touches for a sob story. All the cooks and servers at the Three Old Kegs are Flaming Fist widows and orphans, and the tavern regularly hosts fundraisers for the families of those crippled or killed in service. However, the brothers’ kindness is not matched by their discernment, and the Three Old Toads frequently fall victim to grifters. Several times, these con artists have stolen enough money to threaten the Three Old Kegs with bankruptcy, and the brothers have been forced to find outside help to recover their lost funds and keep the tavern solvent.

The Undercellar

Beneath the Wide is a maze of storage chambers, ale cellars, and cobwebbed tunnels known collectively as the Undercellar. Archways, many with iron-barred gates and rusty but functional locks, connect one cobbled chamber to the next. Some tunnels ascend to street-level buildings, while others open through grates and sewer covers to the streets themselves. At least two dozen ways into and out of the Undercellar exist, although only a few are widely known, and some are deliberately kept secret.
Most Baldurians know of the Undercellar as a seedy speakeasy. The Watch and the Flaming Fist never police the Undercellar, leaving it to a gang of masked toughs who call themselves the Cellarers to enforce order. This near-total absence of the law makes the Undercellar a popular place of business for unsavory characters who would never risk being caught in the Upper City otherwise. Their “indulgence rooms” offer gambling, intoxicants, and pit fights between animals — such as giant sewer rats pitted against dog-sized spiders. Most ordinary citizens who venture into the Undercellar for a taste of danger keep to these areas.
However, those in search of more serious danger can generally find it. Several gray and black marketeers hold heavily reinforced, Guild-approved secure rooms in the Undercellar, from which they deal in weapons, illicit disguises, counterfeit Watch tokens, rare poisons, and other contraband. Access to these dealers requires Guild approval or significant bribes to the Cellarers.
In addition to harboring illicit businesses, the Undercellar is rumored to run throughout much of the Upper City. Its secret tunnels wind beneath numerous patriar manors, banks, businesses, and even the High Hall itself, connecting through false walls in wine cellars and basements throughout the district. Some of the walls are supposedly thin enough for an eavesdropper to overhear all manner of sensitive plans and scandalous liaisons.
A gaunt, bearded man named Heltur “Ribbons” Ribbond, a neutral evil male human assassin, rules the Undercellar with an oily, too-affable manner and a wide grin that only makes his scar-seamed face more menacing. Ribbons has never been seen to lose his temper, even when hurling knives and bottles with deadly accuracy at unruly guests. It’s taken as an article of faith that he must be a kingpin or otherwise high-placed within the Guild.

Unrolling Scroll

Built of white marble, with an arched roof of vibrant red edged in gold leaf, the temple of Oghma stands out among the surrounding buildings. A wide reflecting pool rests in a deep basin under its roof, which is built with exceptional acoustics so that a speaker’s words project clearly and effortlessly across the assembled audience. This has made the shrine a popular place for weddings, dedication ceremonies, and other oaths.
Legend holds that bards and artists who study their own reflections in the basin for half a day, opening their minds to Oghma’s will as they do, behold a vision to inspire their next creation. The reflective period can be dawn to dusk, midnight to midday, or any other period. As the Unrolling Scroll stands in the Upper City, though, non-residents of the district are evicted after sundown.

Vanthampur Villa

Duke Vanthampur can’t stand the rank gossip that hangs in the air of the Manorborn neighborhood. Thus, her estate lies in the Temples neighborhood of the Upper City, as far away from the other patriars as one can get while still being visible to them. For more information on this estate, see chapter 1.

Watch Citadel

The Upper City’s guard force uses the Watch Citadel as training grounds, barracks, and organizational offices. A stable holds the Watch’s warhorses, while a few jail cells can host ordinary prisoners awaiting transport to trials in the High Hall or prison in the Seatower of Balduran.
High Constable and Master of Walls Osmurl Havanack, a lawful neutral male shield dwarf veteran with a deep loyalty to his constables and no taste for city politics, functions as the Watch Citadel’s castellan. Havanack ensures that the Citadel is provisioned, that pay is correctly disbursed by the purse master, and that the Citadel and Old Wall are properly maintained. He also disciplines Watch soldiers accused of misdeeds — accusations that he takes very seriously and does his best to investigate. High Constable Havanack is known to have no tolerance for misconduct in his ranks, but he is only one person, and much escapes his notice.
From the Citadel, the Watch runs regular patrols through the Upper City and staffs the Old Wall, day and night. Many Watch officers are patriars themselves, hailing from families with a long and proud tradition of service to Baldur’s Gate. As most live in the Upper City, members of the Watch are familiar with the city’s patriars and possess a well-developed ability to spot pretenders. Many Watch members interact with citizens from the other districts only at the gates, and then usually under tense and stressful circumstances that foster jaundiced views.
Because few of its members have ever lived outside their privileged walls, the Watch tends to be blind to the day-to-day hardships of life outside the Upper City. Watch soldiers can be suspicious if not outright contemptuous of those whose lower-class mannerisms mark them as “of poor breeding.” While most officers attempt to enforce a code of civility toward all Baldurians, a current of antipathy toward the poor runs deep through the Watch, though it more often manifests as condescension than outright hostility. Absent unusual circumstances, the Watch always gives the benefit of the doubt to a patriar or Upper City resident, and never takes an Outer City denizen’s word over anyone else’s.

Watchful Shield

Helm’s shrine in Baldur’s Gate consists of a small chapel flanked by wings at its door and a vigilant eye inscribed in silver above the lintel. The chapel’s services are regularly attended by Watch members, Flaming Fist soldiers, bodyguards, and anyone else who feels the weight of responsibility to protect others.
When called upon by the Watch or the Flaming Fist, Helm’s clergy aids in maintaining the city’s walls and turning back those who would storm its gates. Although the God of Guardians and his faithful carry out their duties impartially and without concern for the city’s politics, this role has nevertheless earned them considerable resentment in the Outer City.
Helm’s clerics provide healing to any willing to make a donation in gold or arms. They uphold a long-standing tradition of waving this donation for those who suffer grievous wounds in the course of defending other. This leads to all manner of unlikely stories being told at the Watchful Shield’s gates, explaining how roughed-up brawlers or Guild cutthroats actually suffered their wounds performing heroic acts.

The Wide

By law, all commercial buying and selling not done in a licensed and taxed establishment must be conducted in the Wide, the city’s most prominent civic space and public market. Every morning sees an influx of vendors setting up their stalls and taking deliveries from a small army of porters. Every sunset, vendors cart their unsold wares back out, or pay exorbitantly expensive warehouse storage fees.
In the hours between, the Wide hosts a vibrant, crowded market where fortune-tellers and con artists sit beside dealers hawking spices, fish, furs, perfumes, and every other luxury good to be found across the continent and beyond. Despite its crowds, the Wide is well regulated, the Watch keeping a sharp eye out for pickpockets. Street musicians are forbidden on pain of heavy fines and expulsion from the market, so the Wide proves more subdued than the chaotic markets of the Outer City. Quiet performers, such as puppeteers and sleight-of-hand tricksters, are common.
Jedren Hiller, the Bailiff of the Wide, is a lawful evil male human bandit who assigns stall placements to merchants each morning. Longtime regulars and merchants who reside in the Upper City get most of the prime placements, while those who are less established — or stingy with Hiller’s expected bribes — get undesirable places in the less trafficked corners. The bailiff’s corruption is legendary in Baldur’s Gate, but few merchants see any alternative to greasing his palms, particularly as the profits from a good day’s trade vastly outweigh the losses.
Statue of Minsc and Boo. For years the Wide hosted one of the city’s most cherished landmarks: the Beloved Ranger, a statue of a powerful warrior in plate mail wearing a cheerful grin and cradling a hamster in his hands. Recently, though, the statue was revealed to be the Rashemi hero, Minsc, and his “miniature giant space hamster” companion, Boo, trapped under the effects of petrifying magic. When the magic was dispelled, it freed the heroes to walk the world once more but robbed the Wide of a bit of its charm. The merchants complained loudly, and a replacement statue of Minsc and Boo was promptly commissioned and set atop the pedestal where the actual heroes stood for years.