Bastian d'Zinn

Bastian d'Zinn is a wealthy human civilian fuming at being the target of a prank by Rhaneld, whom he considers to be rabble, outside Elerrathin's Home in the Lower City of Baldur's Gate during Act Three.

“

Aren't you one of those adventurers hailed in Baldur's Mouth? I should dearly like to see some of this rabble learn from your example.

„

— Bastian d'Zinn

Involvement

Act Three

Bastian is surrounded by Lower City residents whom he considers beneath him. He is arguing with his fellow citizens, claiming the pebble thrown by Rhaneld could have taken out an eye or choked him to death, declaring that order must be restored.

However, the inhabitants of Lower City who have gathered around see the situation more pragmatically - they understand the man is clearly overreacting and answer him accordingly.

Bastian's reactions to the party vary depending on the resolution of  Stop the Presses quest.

If Gortash is defeated, Bastian as well as the rest of the crowd disperse, and cannot be found or interacted with again.

Idle banter

Bastian d'Zinn has idle banter with several nearby civilians Rhaneld, Thyssa Shineboot, Merriolle, and Tylman Sands:

• Bastian d'Zinn: Is this what the city is coming to? A man cannot stroll the thoroughfare without being assaulted by juvenile thugs?
  • Rhaneld: It was just a pebble.
    • Bastian d'Zinn: Just a pebble? A pebble could take out an eye, break a tooth, enter an open mouth and block a gullet.
      • Bastian d'Zinn: Is that what you wish? Do you wish to choke me to death? Perhaps loot my purse after?
        • Thyssa Shineboot: Ease up, won't you? It was just a tiny stone bounced off your rump, not a ballista bolt.
          • Bastian d'Zinn: Precisely the attitude that is ruining this city! No pride! No discipline! No consequences!

• Bastian d'Zinn: Gutter-filth. And I suppose your mother squeezed out a whole litter just like you. Filling the damn city to the brim like a slop-bucket.
  • Bastian d'Zinn: You're just the sort that Lord Gortash warns us of. Just the sort he'll deal with.
    • Rhaneld: I'm sorry...
      • Bastian d'Zinn: You will be. Once order is restored.
        • Tylman Sands: Hear, hear.
          • Merriolle: 'Hear, hear'? Surely you can't agree with how he's talking to a child? It's out of order!
            • Tylman Sands: My shop's pilfered from every day by runts like him. City should be for proper folk, who earn their crust.

• Bastian d'Zinn: There was a time when we'd have a pillory in the Wide, small enough even for street pups like you.
  • Bastian d'Zinn: Perhaps Lord Gortash will revive that grand tradition.
    • Rhaneld: I won't do it again, I swear.
      • Merriolle: Don't you have nothing else to do but browbeat this boy?
        • • Bastian d'Zinn: And what do you propose? Just let him run amuck, no lesson heeded?
            • Bastian d'Zinn: I doubt he has a father to discipline him - probably dead in an alley or drunk in a tavern.
              • Rhaneld: No, he works. At the docks.
                • Bastian d'Zinn: Oh, I'm sure. Gutting fish, is he? Or perhaps he works the street corner? Nothing would surprise me with your kind.
                  • Thyssa Shineboot: I don't care if the lad threw a bloody boulder at you - that's out of line!

• Rhaneld: I said I'm sorry. Can I go now?
  • Bastian d'Zinn: You can go when I'm through with you, little brat.
    • Thyssa Shineboot: You've had your say, now clear off. Go back to the Upper City.
      • Merriolle: Why are you here, anyway?
        • Bastian d'Zinn: I am a gentleman who may venture where he pleases - it is you who must mind where they go, and do not forget it!