A Tale of The Elven Arse
His name was Gadulph-Gameson the Third, 'Thistle' to his friends, former ward of the sage Gorion, secret proprietor of The Elven Arse, gnome entrepreneur and arrowbait of just about every brigand, bandit and pirate between Amn, site of The 'Arse, and Baldur's Gate, a city he had fallen out with.
The Arse was formerly known as The Copper Coronet, but ownership had switched hands twice in rather rapid succession and Hendrak, the former owner of three days, had his ale spiked and the tavern with illicit pleasures and perversions was up for grabs.
Naturally it was the perfect little place in the perfectly foul gutter district of the great and fabulous city of coin, the jewel of the south, and headquarters of the so-called Shadow Thieves, who were currently engaged in a rather shady guild war with equally sun-hating hunters of the night.
Therefore, it didn't take a great deal of palm greasing to carve out a little hovel of a hole in the stinking-to-Celestia-slums, and so it was the various patrons who frequented the establishment under management prior to the last owner, the one before the gladiatorial slave who broke free, fought a battle against his oppressor, and then fell to poison, returned to view their former delights and vices. Only, Hendrak, or whatever the chap's name was, had let go of all the... extracurricular staff, including those offering pleasure and those spilling blood. Also the dogs were set loose during the havoc, the troll was slain, and the supply of black lotus waned under the guild war.
All in all, everything was far worse off. The courtesans were nowhere in sight and approaching those on the street, the ones lounging, lingering and loitering outside the inn's fence post offered a cool indifference and refused to pay the rates required for a warm roof. The hired swords had also scarpered or fallen and few wanted to hire on, what with the Shadow Thieves offering far better rates.
But, Thistle had an ace up his sleeve in the form of an ironclad champion, a champion who bore his name. Granted it was a golem that he had a mage in the Gate make up for him, and then he outfitted in armour whilst he himself played the role of unassuming baggage boy and page, valet, and any other number of titles, all whilst growing out his hair, posing as a halfling and disguising the protrusion that was the pride and joy of every self-respecting gnome: his nose.
The golem, Gadulph, was every inch the silent hero, the knight in mostly shining armour, the Bhaalspawn who openly declared himself, his destiny and a challenge to all: 'face me in the arena'. 10,000 gold pieces to the victor, death and dishonour to the vanquished, and, the prize of the personal sword of Archduke Sarevok Anchev, also a Bhaalspawn, and also dead by Gandulph's own hand. A bard recounted each victory and the tale of Anchev's fall.
The challengers were small at first; some righteous would-be knight; some prissy abolitionist elf, who had taken up Hendrak's banner but like the would-be knight before her, failed to so much as dent the thick plated mail. Despite the duel being to the death, Gadulph didn't actually have the heart to slay either, and the aspiring knight toddled off in disgrace, whilst the elf took it upon herself to try to reform the inn. She would have made much greater strides had there actually been slaves but as there were none, she became a semi-regular patron, and took off for Tradesmeet after a call for aid was placed on the inn wall.
Others came and went, some perishing, others not. Eventually, a claimant by the name of Ilasera arrived, declaring herself as one of Bhaal's heirs. By now, the guild war had reached fever pitch, business was booming, and a couple of attempts to abduct the golem-as-Gadulph had fallen through.
Ilasera, however, was an entirely different breed, which was not wholly unexpected given their shared heritage, and for the first time in many tendays, the golem faced a superior foe.
Gadulph had planned for just such an eventuality and stuffed the golem's innards with glitterdust, and pigs' bladders filled with blood. When the mighty golem did succumb, to all intents and purposes, Gadulph the mighty, the unconquered, slayer of Sarevok, and all manner of titles, died in ignominy.
It was the perfect chance to slip away, start over and leave his accursed heritage behind.
...that was, until a Solar appeared before him, a giant of blue crowned with a halo of golden fire, wings of white, and a feminine form that was just ugly to the gnome. She relayed in grandiose tones that the rest were dead, slain, the last two contenders having killed each other on the field of battle far to the south.
Did he wish to assume his sire's throne and ascend to godhood?
Did he ever! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! He could open a chain of Arses! A golem in each! Oh the possibilities!
...