Sword Coast

As you near Sow’s Foot, a shadowy corner of Baldur’s Gate, the atmosphere shifts noticeably. The tightly packed buildings lean precariously over narrow, winding streets, their grimy facades stained by years of soot and neglect. Lanterns hung on crooked posts flicker weakly, casting long, jagged shadows that seem to dance across the damp cobblestones. The air is heavy with the scent of fish from nearby docks, mingled with the pungent odor of refuse left too long. The muffled sounds of raised voices and shuffling feet echo through the alleys, where figures linger in the gloom, their faces obscured by hooded cloaks. A few stray cats slink between crates and barrels, their eyes glinting in the dim light. Sow’s Foot feels alive with an uneasy energy—its secrets tucked into the pockets of cutpurses and whispered behind closed doors. This is no place for the faint-hearted, but fortune favors the bold.

It is the eastern-most neighborhood located outside of the city walls. There are few, if any, notable locations in this neighborhood. It is a place where the common folk eke out their lives—honest laborers, struggling families, and those who don’t fit neatly into the city’s grand tapestry. The air smells of tanneries, and the sounds of livestock handlers echoes through the streets. It is a realm of necessity, not luxury—a stark contrast to the opulence found within the city’s inner walls.