Baldur's Gate Read Online Free PDF

seemed unlikely to Abdel, though, as he’d met a few gnomes in his day and found it difficult to believe that people who barely reached his knee could drive anyone out of anywhere.
    Abdel didn’t know anything about this god Bhaal, but if it was true that his worshipers were driven out of such an imposing stone fortress by these tiny forest folk… well, no wonder the god didn’t survive the Time of Troubles.
    Xzar’s delusional ramblings weren’t lost on Abdel either. The fact that the mage had used Bhaal as the focus of his fantasies about Abdel’s parentage must have meant that Xzar had heard the story of the origin of the Friendly Arms as well. If they’d been in the Dalelands his father might have been Elminster, or maybe he should move to Evermeet and take on Corellon Larethian as his sire.
    The Friendly Arms was a little village as much as it was a fortress. Within the high curtain walls of gray stone was a collection of buildings devoted to any number of purposes but all serving travelers in one way or another.
    Abdel and his two companions approached the front gate and a heavy wooden drawbridge was lowered over a moat. Coming in from the south they could see that the moat didn’t make it all the way around the keep yet, and there were teams of diggers and other laborers halfheartedly wandering about. The moat was a new addition, then, and certainly more for show than for defense. The Friendly Arms never locked its gate, and everyone was welcome inside, so the likelihood of siege was hardly pressing.
    They passed over the drawbridge and made their way with no wasted time from the pillared entrance to one of the biggest buildings in the broad, open bailey. Even if Abdel had never been there before, the sound of revelry leaking into the early evening air would have told him that this was the inn proper. It was a long walk to the high oaken door, and as they crossed the bailey they passed a group of gnome guards. The sight of the tiny fighters made Abdel smile. The three guards, each no taller than two and a half feet, were dressed in fancy but functional ring mail. Their short swords were smaller and no doubt lighter than Abdel’s dagger. One was holding a spear from which fluttered the banner of the Friendly Arms, less heraldry than advertising. The three little men nodded to Abdel and returned his smile, then turned their attention abruptly to the inn.
    Abdel noticed a sudden change in the tavern sounds. Montaron stopped too and held out a hand to gently block Xzar.
    The mage twitched away and shouted, “Stop touching me!”
    “Shhh,” the halfling warned as the gnome guards began moving slowly toward the inn.
    There were pauses in the steady sound of laughter and frivolity, that was what first alerted the guards, then came loud cheers, a crash, and breaking glass followed by a loud grunt.
    Montaron laughed and said, “Sounds like my kind o’ place!”
    The three travelling companions followed the gnome guards to the door. Abdel stood behind the gnomes as one of them opened the door, and he was hit with the blast of sound from inside just a fraction of a second before the chair hit him in the face. Down the big sellsword went, never seeing the three little gnomes wade into the crowd. The guards’ fists were small, but when they brought them into play at their own eye level, taller men dropped like sacks of flour.
    Abdel, angry, bleeding from the nose, stood up, grabbed the broken chair, and surveyed the dark room full of doubled-over men. He gave up hope of finding the one who threw the chair, but he gave the room an icy glare all the same. Laughter started, and Abdel turned red before he realized they weren’t laughing at him but at the man being carried out by the three gnomes. They were dragging the dirty, vile-smelling commoner more than carrying him, and the big man made a small sound every time his head bounced against the rough wooden planks of the floor.
    Abdel looked at the now unconscious man