Slice of Silverymoon
By Chesmyr Morrowynd
(as told to Ed Greenwood)
talked about Swordsfall House. Let's start with a recipe and then go elsewhere.
a recent night of emptying bottles and trading coziness with Ninrae, she
showed me how to make thaevor potatoes (which is what she was supposed
to be doing whilst she was really entertaining me) . . . so here 'tis.
eight potatoes, and slice thin.
take you a pound of mushrooms of all edible sorts, and slice them thin,
then do the same to two shallots and to sprigs of parsley and basil. Toss
these four things all together.
a generous handful of pepper, grate yourself a cup of thaevor,
and procure a cup of cream. Also take a lick of butter.
that butter around the inside of a deep cooking-pan -- the sort one can
cover and bake on racks over a coals-fire.
a layer of potato, then one of the mushroom toss, then grated thaevor,
then pepper and cream. Repeat; there should be enough for three layers
in all. Then bake over a steady bed of coals until done.
Stoneshar is a kindly old sack of wrinkles, but her shraehouse pales when
compared to the superb Swordsfall. It's a place for drinks, thick pipe
smoke, and a minimum of food. (Smoked fish on frybread or warmed spinach
tarts is about it.) It's very dingy, usually crowded (with folk who couldn't
get into Swordsfall), and spartan, with no fancy drinkables and prices
flat at 2 sp/all beers, 2 sp/broths and zzar, 3 sp/all wines.
the overhanging boot signboard dangling from the balcony of the second
building on the north side of Lavarpard east of its waymoot with Nutting
a good listener and will happily talk troubles and gossip with any patron,
but beware: Her dumpy build is largely solid muscle, she can throw a skillet
with deadly accuracy and doesn't mind wasting a sizzling fry of contents
to fell a thief, and she knows her herbs and concoctions, and has been
known to serve drinks that bring swift slumber to unruly patrons -- and
to those she's been paid a fee to send early to their dreams. A onetime
drover and adventurer in the North, she'll occasionally sell secrets (things
she knows about city folk and directions to wilderland features in the
lands north of Sundabar, as far as the northern Cold Wood, including a
few words about Tulrun).
sort of shraehouse. This place is noisy, crowded, run by the young for
the young, and is a house where folk talk too loudly and to impress. I
couldn't tell you the names of all the long-haired, swaggering, "I'm
a dangerous blade so watch out" staff, but if it's swift and cheap
drinks you want, or a brawl, this is the place. The only food to be had
is "black" (blood and organ meats) sausages, spiced so hot as
to force folk to slake their throats with more drink after eating. Otherwise,
prices, consumables, and conditions are much the same as Ammarlath's.
An evening lass who was in truth a bludgeon-and-rob doppelganger worked
Suldanseir's for almost a season before being discovered and slain.
the signboard with the name aglow (a minor magic effect) above a dangling
"fall" of strung crystals, on the east side balcony of the second
building west of the gateside (northern) mouth of Nutting Lane. It has
two staircases, at either end of the balcony; both are apt to be crowded
with boldly hopeful escorts after dusk.
My Hand, But Sparkling
is perhaps the brightest and most glittering storefront balcony in Hollowhar,
and 'tis impossible to miss: It looks north up Nutting Lane from the south
side of Lavarpard, squarely in line with the waymoot. "The Dark Hand"
is what's known in the Sword Coast North as a "gem gaudy" shop:
It sells cheap "glitter jewelry," mirrors, plumes of dyed feathers
mounted for tiara wear, and so on.
case, the "and so on" is a small array of costumes and disguises
that'll fit most humans and half-elves without alteration. The proprietor,
Raugaere Willowynd, is a limping old adventurer possessed of the ruins
of good looks, much sarcasm, and eyes that miss nothing and never forget
a face. He has a good reason for his wariness: He's a former fence of
stolen goods (hence the shop name), and some say the word "former"
is a falsehood. Certainly Raugaere turns away petty thieves nowadays,
but he does buy secondhand gaudy jewelry and clothing that can serve to
be resold as costumes without any awkward questions -- and he also receives
regular "we're keeping an eye on you" visits from the Rods.
There are rumors that Raugaere knows the Lady Alustriel well, from past
dealings -- and that old Thunderspell knows him all too well as
years, Raugaere has taken to making painted wax masks and half-masks that
make the wearer look like a nondescript human . . . a different nondescript
human than they normally appear to be, that is. They don't last long,
but as several Knights in Silver have been overheard to say grimly, as
they investigate crimes in the city, "They last long enough."
establishment is tucked away behind a closed and barred door (with a peephole
that Malaver peers out when would-be clients ring his door-gong) on the
south side of the large building in the center of the triangular Wallrun-Nutting-Druinwood
block. It can be found easily by the smell, however, and many folk brave
the spilled blood, fearsome cleavers, and thick smoke of the smoke-rooms
to buy the flavorful wares of Breon Malaver.
a cadaverously-thin butcher of few and sour words, and there are the inevitable
rumors of his chopping up corpses for fees. These are probably the result
of his interest in monster-butchering (he's one of the few folk in Silverymoon
I've found who'll be eager to carve up anything scaly and long-jawed that's
bigger than three men, if I bring such a morsel to him in a rented cart)
-- oh, and because of the ghost, of course.
smokehouse is haunted by the apparition of a flying, talking severed head.
From time to time it fades into view and lunges menacingly at visitors,
speaking what might be gibberish and might not (some sages pay to be allowed
to come and listen to it, from time to time) in Loross and Thorass. It
trails long hair, appears to have belonged in life to a half-elven female,
and seems to be enraged at the very sight of human women in armor, or
visibly bearing swords.
ignores this phantom, but it's scared away all the staff he's ever hired
(he lives alone). However, Malaver's sausages and smokefish are of the
best, but cheaply priced (the former are 2 sp for large links and 1 sp
for small, and the latter are 1 cp/fillet). I live on them when in town
without time to spare to shoulder my way into Swordsfall -- unless, of
course, someone else is buying my feast, in brighter streets than those
Some expensive-to-my-larder discussions with Elminster lead me to believe
that parmesan cheese is our closest equivalent
A casserole that comes with a lid.
That'd be about an hour at 350 degrees Fahrenheit . . . and have a care
for your arteries!
to the Forgotten Realms
main news page for
more articles and news about the Forgotten Realms game setting
or check out the Forgotten
for a lively discussion of all aspects of the Forgotten Realms