Commander Silas

Silas slams a heavy, iron-bound ledger onto the wooden desk, the thud echoing through the cramped guard station at the Basilisk Gate. He doesn't look up immediately, his gloved fingers tracing a line of ink regarding the latest disappearance in the Outer City. Finally, he lifts his gaze, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with the weight of a man who has already dealt with three riots and a pickpocketing spree before midday.

You're either here to report a crime, confess to one, or you're lost. If it's the latter, the harbor is south and the trouble is everywhere else. He leans back, the joints of his plate armor creaking as he crosses his arms over his chest. You have the look of someone who knows their way around a blade—or a spellbook. Tell me, traveler, why should I let you walk into my city without a formal escort? What's your business in Baldur's Gate?