TEXT: TM
  
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  2
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  Ed Greenwood
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  ISBN: 978-0-7869-6034-7
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  3
  CONTENTS
  FOREWORD 
  4
  INTRODUCTION 
  6
  LIFE IN THE REALMS 
  10
  RACIAL VIEWPOINTS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
  REALMSPEAK: TALKING THE TALK . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
  THE WRITTEN WORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
  EVENTS AND FESTIVALS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
  LEARNING THE ROPES, AND MORE . . . . . . . . . . . 31
  ACTING AND THE THEATER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
  MEDICINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
  ILLNESS AND HYGIENE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
  DRUGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
  POISONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
  CURRENT CLACK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
  LAWS AND ORDERS 
  46
  CLASS AND NOBILITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
  JUSTICE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
  PROPERTY LAW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
  CORMYREAN NAMING AND TRADE LAWS . . . . . . . 57
  SENTENCING THE GUILTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
  THOSE WHO ENFORCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
  PACTS AND ALLIANCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
  THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE ZHENTARIM . . . . . 70
  HEARTH AND HOME 
  76
  WHERE ONE’S HAT IS HUNG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
  INNS AND TAVERNS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
  WHAT’S TO EAT? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
  REGIONAL CUISINES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
  FOOD FROM THE WILD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
  DRINKS OF CHOICE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92
  THE LATEST FASHION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
  MONEY MATTERS 
  102
  WORK FOR ALL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
  DAY JOBS FOR ADVENTURERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
  GUILDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
  TRADE AND MERCHANT PRINCES . . . . . . . . . . . 113
  COINAGE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
  TRADE GOODS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
  SLAVE TRADE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS 132
  HOW FOLK WORSHIP . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
  WHY PUT UP WITH EVIL? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
  CHARITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
  TEMPLE INCOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137
  PRIESTHOODS OF THE REALMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
  THE ART 
  178
  HOW MAGICAL IS THE REALMS?  . . . . . . . . . . . 179
  SPECIAL BLOODLINES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
  ALCHEMY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
  WORDS OF AWAKENING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
  BARDIC MATTERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
  ELVEN MUSIC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
  SPELLSONG . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
  MORE MAGIC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
  AFTERWORD 
  190
  
  4
  FOREWORD
  A (relatively) young Ed Greenwood summons up his alter ego, 
  Elminster, before the unfurling of a proclamation of great import.
  
  5
  To all who peruse this volume, these:
  Well met, as always, and welcome to the latest 
  tome from the pen of Ed of the Greenwood that 
  purports to lay bare secrets of the world I dwell 
  in, the place best known to ye as “the Forgotten 
  Realms.”
   
  A world so vast and rich that its secrets could 
  fill libraries—to say nothing of the myriad pass-
  ing details of everyday life, the strivings of folk 
  mighty and simple. Beggars and humble crofters 
  can change the Realms as much as kings do, and 
  its heroes are not always those lauded. Like thy 
  world, the Realms needs splendid deeds from us 
  all for life to hold a goodly measure of pleasures 
  and rewards.
   
  In short, it needs thee to make a difference.
  This book, like all guides, seeks to steer readers. 
  Luring them here, and turning them aside from 
  there. ’Tis true no book is thick enough to hold 
  everything, but ye should beware the scribe who 
  is ruthless in omissions of lore that just might 
  keep ye alive. Just as much ye should cherish the 
  sage who reins in his tongue, and never shares 
  in the first place what dare not be shared. I have 
  tried not to doom the Realms by what I’ve let slip 
  down the decades.
   
  Yet some omissions have been born of the 
  urgency of the moment or the lack of pages, 
  time and again, and not been set down for all to 
  peruse.
   
  I see Ed is finally seeing, in however paltry and 
  slapdash a manner, to some of those gaps, here 
  and now.
   
  I have long thought that the Realms must seem 
  strange indeed to ye, who’ve not been told any-
  thing comprehensive or coherent about this little 
  detail here, and that little detail, there.
   
  For instance, bards’ tales and fireside folklore 
  simply bristle with mention of evil tyrants—yet 
  in the Realms I know, only nobles and rulers 
  who utterly lose their tempers or who are spoiled 
  brutes habitually take open and public violent 
  action. I see the vast, sophisticated majority of 
  nobles and rulers in the Realms habitually using 
  adventurers (and guilds, and costers, and oth-
  ers they can manipulate instead of paying) as 
  their agents (sometimes through several layers of 
  go-betweens).
   
  This is the chief reason why adventuring 
  bands—as opposed to strictly ordered profes-
  sional mercenaries—are suffered to exist in any 
  land where there are laws and lawkeepers. In 
  frontier areas, brigands and monsters are preva-
  lent enough to demand that the prudent go 
  armed, and the young and penniless have ample 
  opportunity to win wealth and reputation by 
  dealing with locally marauding perils. Yet were I 
  foolish enough to want to sit on a throne some-
  where, I would take great care to spy tirelessly and 
  attentively on all adventuring bands within my 
  realm and nigh my borders. I would expect my 
  foes to be hiring them, or manipulating them, or 
  both, against me.
   
  Yet down the years, other than briefly covering 
  the charters that Cormyr grants adventurers to 
  at one stroke allow them to buckle their swashes 
  and at the same time enact a measure of control 
  over them, I see that Ed of the Greenwood has 
  neglected this root fact of life in the Realms.
   
  Which means it’s high time for a book such as 
  this.
   
  In recent times, the Realms has seen the 
  rise of broadsheets, or printed scraps of cur-
  rent news and salacious rumors masquerading as 
  news—something hitherto left to the tongues of 
  minstrels, peddlers, and caravan merchants, with 
  the ever-increasing distortions that their retellings 
  inevitably embroider everything with.
   
  The pervasiveness of this form of written com-
  munication encourages reading, and foments 
  propaganda—and, though it pains me as a sage to 
  say it, the reckless sharing of some things better 
  kept secret.
   
  There is a high price to telling all.
   
  Why, even to impart the makings of some al-
  loys that the dwarves prize highly would be to 
  shift balances better left as they are, among the 
  ever-uneasy threats and counterthreats and pru-
  dences of rulers and those who desire to rule.
   
  Not all secrets hold that much power, yet any 
  might well shift attitudes and beliefs and desires 
  across the Realms, and so have their own effects.
   
  So you’ll not find everything within these 
  pages. Yet I know I’ve shared more than enough 
  juicy bits to keep ye thinking for a while . . .
  
  6
  INTRODUCTION
  Welcome to the Forgotten Realms®, the world 
  I began crafting when I was six, before there was 
  anything called Dungeons & Dragons® or a role-
  playing game industry. The world I still work on, 
  every day.
   
  It’s been a long, rich, rewarding road, and the 
  Realms now grows around me courtesy of many 
  loving creators, toiling busily. We’re building a 
  world that never has to end, a setting that can for-
  ever be home to novels and roleplaying campaigns 
  and board games and much, much more.
   
  This book is a peek at the beating heart of the 
  Realms, at what makes it work and seem alive. A 
  bright buffet of lore, with buckets of little details 
  about all sorts of things. A grand gallimau-
  fry of matters Realmsian, for your perusal and 
  enjoyment.
   
  There is no “right” way to play D&D® or to 
  conduct a Realms campaign, and many gamers 
  won’t use or want everything in this book. Yet if 
  it spurs adventure ideas, or provides elements an 
  overworked Dungeon Master can pick up and 
  use rather than having to think through and cre-
  ate anew, it will be useful. It’s not an attempt to 
  convince anyone to abide by every detail of canon, 
  but rather to provide lore for those who want to 
  use it, to make more time for unfolding adven-
  tures around the gaming table.
   
  Real-world medieval or Renaissance condi-
  tions, arts, world views, religious beliefs, or 
  standards of medicine don’t directly correspond 
  to the Realms, just as steampunk fiction is seldom 
  accurate Victoriana. So, DMs should feel free to 
  twist matters to make their Realms seem excit-
  ingly—or unsettlingly—different.
   
  By my deliberate design and my players’ pref-
  erences, play in my home Realms campaign has 
  always featured these three characteristics.
   
  1. Player characters have the freedom to do 
  their own thing. Play unfolds in a large and 
  detailed setting so I really can allow PCs the free-
  dom to choose to stroll north today, instead of 
  returning to that mystery in the alley to the south 
  they stumbled into yesterday. No Dungeon Mas-
  ter’s carrot-and-stick, no railroading. I present 
  the world, and the players around the table decide 
  where to poke their characters’ noses. They con-
  trol their destinies, and they impose their wills 
  upon the world. (Yes, they see they can accom-
  plish far more working together, as a united band 
  of adventurers, and act accordingly.) My players 
  run characters of various classes with different 
  interests and obligations. For instance, clerics are 
  under constant pressure from church superiors 
  to do this, that, and the other. And yet, they also 
  continuously pursue their own pet projects (nota-
  bly investments and trade negotiations), as well as 
  engaging in adventures with the Knights of Myth 
  Drannor. Many play sessions begin with the 
  characters holding a council wherein they debate 
  and decide what to do next, rather than running 
  through a prepared adventure. I lay out the buf-
  fet, and they sample what catches their eye.
   
  2. The Realms is constantly unfolding. I keep 
  a flow of current events (and rumors) burbling 
  past my players’ ears to make the world seem 
  alive around them and to present a continually 
  renewed, rich selection of adventuring and role-
  playing opportunities. Part of this ever-changing 
  world is a steady stream of new nonplayer charac-
  ters (NPCs), which make up the cast of thousands 
  that is the Realms. The key to the Realms is not 
  just that it has a past, but that things happen; 
  history is being made every day. So, over time 
  (and game editions), prices fluctuate and cur-
  rency morphs. If values given here in gold pieces 
  (gp), silver pieces (sp), and copper pieces (cp) 
  don’t seem right for your campaign, change them. 
  Merchants overcharge when they can, and under-
  charge when they must.
   
  3. Subplots and intrigues abound. I love them, 
  and so do my players. This means mysteries large 
  and small, little secrets and big ones, clever and 
  sinister behind-the-scenes villains (if I wrote 
  Sherlock Holmes, his landlady would eventually 
  turn out to be a sweetly manipulative crime boss, 
  hiding behind his notoriety and proximity), and 
  power groups galore. I try to keep my players so 
  busy their characters have a hard time finding 
  enough time to go off adventuring; there have 
  seldom been less than a dozen subplots in play 
  at a time. Tied to this is the clear understanding 
  that people, groups, and events are all connected 
  in the Realms, so every word and deed has con-
  sequences, just as in real life. Of course, in the 
  Realms, the stakes are higher, the pace faster, and 
  the mundane and boring elements are minimized. 
  Clear and swift rewards keep Realmsplay from 
  ever being a daily grind.
  
  7
   
  These characteristics are key to the longevity 
  and depth of my home Realms campaign, and the 
  thirst for detail that my superb players exhibit has 
  spurred me to build it into the Realms. This in 
  turn made it seem more real to my players, mak-
  ing their imaginary achievements matter more.
   
  My first players were the Company of Crazed 
  Venturers. Then rose the Swords of Eveningstar, 
  who became the Knights of Myth Drannor. With 
  other players, I explored the Realms in short-term 
  public library games whose participants portrayed 
  chartered adventuring bands in Cormyr and the 
  Dales such as the Company of the Unicorn and 
  the Company of the Manticore. At conventions 
  for two decades, on three continents, the Baron’s 
  Blades (hired bodyguards and agents of the baron 
  of Hawkhill in the remote farming foothills of 
  northeastern Amn) have fared forth into adven-
  ture. It’s all been a lot of fun, and along the way 
  the Realms has gained far more lore and depth 
  than could ever be published.
   
  Well met! Mount up and join the ride!
  A self-portrait of a much younger Ed Greenwood. Take a peek at what I’m writing; “Divinity in AD&D” was my title for “Down-to-Earth 
  Divinity,” in issue #54 of The Dragon (I did this sketch to go with that article). It’s a reminder to me and everyone that when writing 
  about the Realms—deities in particular!—one must Get It Right. The flying beastie (statted out in 2nd Edition format, somewhere in my 
  houseful of handwritten Realmslore notes) is seemingly none too pleased about what it thinks I’m going to write. Wise little beastie.
  
  8
  In 1986, I began sinking the upper floor of TSR’s Lake Geneva headquarters under the weight of many, many typewritten sheets. The 
  principal sufferer was Jeff Grubb, a superlative game designer who became a great friend—and who first suggested that TSR acquire the 
  Realms. Every week, Jeff asked for specific lore, and I assembled and typed it up, and sent it off. This is from the first of many packages; my 
  response to being asked to briefly outline major regions of the Realms for anyone unfamiliar with the world.
  
  9
  I always furnished players in my campaigns with packs of brief “what your character starts off knowing about the world” information. 
  Usually twenty-odd pages, they included detailed maps of the “home” village or city neighborhood, and simplified, error-and-omission-
  filled regional maps. This is one of the latter, showing what player characters in the Swords of Eveningstar knew about the lands  
  immediately around the Forest Kingdom. It echoes the style of an expensive map one could buy from a Faerûnian merchant.
  
  So what’s it like, living in the Realms?
   
  The flippant answer is “More exciting than you 
  would like.” Given the prevalence of wars, casual 
  daily violence, and widespread natural or magical 
  disasters, it’s hard to see things otherwise—yet 
  Faerûnians do. Unless hardship or outright di-
  saster lands in their laps, they tend to regard such 
  unpleasantness as happening to “outlanders, far 
  away,” often as a result of crazed or evil rulers, 
  bad mistakes, and “the will of the gods.”
   
  Deities are paramount in Faerûnian life. Every-
  body believes in all the gods and worships every 
  god (even if only in token “Please don’t frown upon 
  me in the days ahead” venerations). The existence, 
  power, and influence of the divine are unques-
  tioned by all sane beings, so no god ever need be 
  taken strictly on faith. Specific directives given by 
  mortal clergy might be taken on faith—or more 
  often, questioned or reinterpreted—but everyone 
  knows the gods are real.
   
  Atheists and agnostics are rare indeed, yet 
  organized religion doesn’t dominate daily life be-
  cause ordinary folk, and not just priests, know 
  that divine aims, deeds, utterances, and desires 
  are complex, confused, and sometimes contradic-
  tory. The wants of one god necessarily conflict 
  10
  1
  ERIC BELISLE
  
  with another (Talos of storms and destruction 
  versus Lathander of creation); and mortals can 
  never perfectly understand what the gods are up 
  to. Moreover, it’s understood that deities are falli-
  ble and can’t govern the future, though they work 
  to correctly foresee and influence it.
   
  As a result, most mortal lives are balanced be-
  tween daily needs and obligations, personal desires 
  (“I want my own farm, someday”), and the endless 
  great game (as Elminster once described it) of try-
  ing to advance the influence and aims of this deity 
  and thwart or lessen the influence and aims of that 
  one, so as to tug the Realms closer to what you per-
  sonally want it to be. There are less noble aims.
  RACIAL VIEWPOINTS
  Humans numerically and culturally dominate 
  the civilized surface Realms. Most humans hate 
  and fear creatures they deem monsters, such as 
  beholders, illithids, yuan-ti, drow, and goblinkin. 
  “Goblinkin” refers to hobgoblins, orcs, goblins, 
  and their lookalikes; most humans neither know 
  nor care about actual species differences. In the 
  words of the long-ago King Roreld of Athalantar, 
  “If it looks like an orc, it’s an orc.” Many humans 
  mistrust half-orcs and all elves, and a few mis-
  trust all nonhumans, but in Faerûn, most humans 
  grew up dwelling or trading with elves, half-elves, 
  dwarves, halflings, and gnomes, and so accept 
  them as fellow citizens.
   
  The folk of the Dales have typical backland 
  human attitudes, hating and fearing half-orcs be-
  cause they can’t distinguish them from the orc 
  mercenaries used so often by Zhentil Keep in 
  Daggerdale. Some also mistake half-orcs for the 
  beast-men (ogres) of Thar, having never seen real 
  ogres (and lived to tell the tale), and will reach for 
  the nearest weapon.
   
  Almost all humans, elves, and dwarves in the 
  Realms mistrust small, non-familial groups of 
  orcs (four or fewer), and will be openly hostile to 
  larger groups. As an old upcountry saying plainly 
  states: “Orcs is trouble.” (Or, in full: “Orcs is al-
  ways trouble.”)
   
  Orcs are born fighters, which just keep coming 
  back for more. (And, the smaller inner voices of 
  most non-orcs add silently, orcs will kill you and 
  then eat you. Some of them won’t even wait until 
  you’re dead!)
   
  Individual, urban-dwelling (in predominantly 
  human trading cities) halfling and gnome fami-
  lies gain acceptance by making themselves useful 
  in the eyes of other citizens. They are the chief 
  source of small, clever inventions (intricate dou-
  ble locks, fold-down doorstops, removable boot 
  scrapers that double as tools for other purposes, 
  heat-reflecting stove hoods and fans whose blades 
  are turned by the heat of cooking fires, and so 
  on). They do the laundry, fix small everyday ob-
  jects, make speedy deliveries, and seek and find 
  what paying humans are missing (like a window 
  catch of this precise style to replace yon broken 
  one, or a dagger to exactly match this rapier, or 
  an identical rug to this one that must be hastily 
  gotten rid of—only one without a large bloodstain 
  right in the center of it, please).
   
  Urban-dwelling gnomes in the Realms usually 
  seek to be the quiet collectors and refiners of good 
  ideas from all cultures, keep low profiles, and 
  make good livings trading useful items. Gnomes 
  make the majority (and the best) of spectacles, 
  magnifying glasses, spyglasses, and other devices 
  involving glass lenses. Gnomes have perfected 
  intricate nonmagical locks and hinges, and mas-
  tered large-scale paper-making and bookbinding. 
  They are experts on waterproof garments, por-
  table containers for scrolls, and flat paper, and 
  are building bigger and better looms for everyday 
  cloth. Many gnomes are working to perfect ever 
  thinner and more flexible wire, and they experi-
  ment with fashioning everyday items from it. 
  This “quietly, quietly” manner has led gnomes to 
  being the truly forgotten folk of the Realms, but 
  also tends to make almost everyone view them as 
  harmless, helpful, and friendly.
   
  Across Faerûn, “everyone knows” that elves flit 
  from one delight to the next diversion, and they 
  crave and master the most beautiful music, danc-
  ing, and visual arts linked to flowing, growing 
  life. It is likewise commonly held that dwarves are 
  stolid, stubborn hard workers, and master forg-
  ers, who have unequaled skill in working stone 
  and metal, creating new alloys, and deep, swift 
  mining.
   
  Of course, as everyone in the Realms who re-
  ally thinks about such things knows, all of these 
  widely known views are stereotypes and gener-
  alizations, with thousands upon thousands of 
  exceptions.
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  11
  
  What’s in a Name?
  Many racial attitudes are revealed in widely used 
  terms for the intelligent races of the Realms. In the 
  entries that follow, races mentioned in parentheses 
  indicate those that use the term directly preceding 
  it. If no race is mentioned, the term is in general 
  use (certainly among surface-dwelling humans and 
  merchant folk of all races). There’s little political 
  correctness in the Realms beyond the strictures of 
  polite society in a city or a well-ordered realm.
   
  Drow: The Dark Elves, the Dark Ones, the 
  Accursed (by other elves).
  Dwarves: The Stout Folk, anvil-hammerers.
  Elves: The Fair Folk, the People (by elves).
  Gnomes: The Quiet Folk.
  Halflings: The Quick Folk, the Sly Folk (by 
  humans and dwarves).
   
  Humans: The manyhanded (by halflings and 
  elves, in reference to the Manyhanded Curse, an 
  old elven insult), Brittle Bones (by orcs), oroosh 
  (by treants, using their term for “never-stopping 
  talkers”), hurbryn (by brownies, halflings, korred, 
  and satyrs, using their term for “heavy-footed”).
  Korred: The Dancing Folk.
  Ogres: Beast-men.
  Orcs: The Mighty (by orcs), slaugh (by elves; 
  this literally translates as “mud-wallowing-dogs,” 
  and is creeping into the speech of half-elves, dry-
  ads, and other forest-dwelling folk).
  Satyrs: The Free Folk.
  Svirfneblin (deep gnomes): The Deep Folk.
  All Together Now . . .
  The four most widely encountered collective 
  terms are these:
  Meat: All intelligent prey (by orcs).
   
  The Proud Peoples: Dwarves and elves col-
  lectively (by humans).
  Ugrukh: Wounded, defeated, slaves, and those 
  too weak to defend themselves or be worthy of atten-
  tion (by orcs, using their term for “broken bones”).
  Worms: Lesser goblinkin (by orcs).
  The drow and certain elder sun and moon elven 
  nobility (House Starym, for instance) are haughty 
  esthetes who view dwarves as their true foes; 
  gnomes as degenerate dwarves; and humans, 
  Getting along together whisperingly well: There’s nothing like being in the same cabal, with your lives on the line, to close all divides. Until, 
  of course, things go wrong.
  Chapter 1
  12
  LORRAINE SCHLETER
  
  halflings, orcs, and crossbreeds as children so 
  far beneath elves in their intelligence and cul-
  tural development that they are dismissed as little 
  better than animals able to follow instructions. 
  This makes those latter races ideal—in their 
  eyes— slaves who can be collected, bred for traits, 
  experimented upon with herbs, poisons, magic, 
  and surgeries, and—for entertainment and bet-
  ting purposes—hunted or used in races, fights, 
  and other sporting contests.
  REALMSPEAK:  
  TALKING THE TALK
  Creating languages for gnomes, dragons, and all 
  the myriad races in the Realms is fun and can 
  add flavor to full-on roleplaying (and fragmentary 
  tongues for most nonhuman races exist and are 
  slowly being augmented, as the years pass). How-
  ever, it tends to be more enjoyable around the 
  gaming table to have some new expressions and 
  borrowed elven and other examples of “outland 
  talk” to lard the Common tongue—meaning the 
  everyday language of the players—and impart at-
  mosphere without baffling the players.
   
  Accordingly, I’ve compiled a “highlights only” 
  handy vocabulary of what’s said in the Realms. 
  You can also pick up other words and phrases 
  throughout this work.
   
  The overuse of dialect or invented words can 
  become tiresome or clumsy, but sprinkling speech 
  lightly with archaic words and phrases—such as 
  “ ’tis” and “ ’twas”—or invented words placed so 
  that context makes their meanings clear, can help 
  the Realms come alive as a medieval fantasy world 
  different from our modern world.
   
  The constant flow of traders, adventurers, pil-
  grims, and job seekers throughout Faerûn has 
  made Common the vital and paramount lan-
  guage. Guilds, priesthoods, and folk in backland 
  areas develop their own words and expressions, 
  but Common is the primary tongue of trade, 
  because in most market moots a speaker never 
  knows who will be listening to—and understand-
  ing—asides made in another tongue.
   
  Here following is some useful Realms speech 
  lore.
  Modern Term
  or Expression 
  Realmspeak
  anyhow
  anyhail
  anyway
  anyhail
  barflies
   hardjaws (refers to garrulous 
  tavern regulars)
  barkeep
   tavernmaster (innkeeper is 
  used in the Realms, barkeep 
  never)
  beauty/beautiful 
  glim/glimmer
  breakfast 
  morningfeast (or mornfeast)
  dinner 
  evenfeast (or eveningfeast)
  foreigner 
  outlander (not pejorative)
  foreign goods 
  outland goods (not pejorative)
  hick 
  hay-nose (bumpkin also used)
  know-it-all 
  clevershanks (men) or  
  clevertongue (women)
  lunch
  highsunfeast
  noble
   highborn (polite use) or  
  highnose (deliberately rude)
  noon
  highsun
  perhaps
   mayhap (“perhaps” is used by 
  bards, minstrels, courtiers, 
  nobles, and between many 
  middle-class merchants, but 
  only with intimates and family, 
  never in public)
  priest
   holy-nose (only mildly offen-
  sive, akin to using “cop” for 
  “policeman”)
  tomorrow 
  on the morrow
  tonight
  this night
  More Involved Terms
  Some of the elements of Realmspeak involve 
  special treatment of normal words, or are com-
  plicated enough that they can’t be succinctly 
  defined. For instance:
   
  Art or the Art (capitalized) means magic and 
  its mastery.
   
  Badaulder (bah-doll-durr) is the western 
  Heartlands expression for “hogwash.” Its usage 
  is creeping into Cormyr, headed for Sembia, the 
  Dales, and the Moonsea.
   
  Brightstar means great, exciting, pleasing, 
  marvelous, or superb.
   
  Darburl (dar-burl) means angry. For example, 
  “I’m right darburl, just now,” or “He makes me 
  proper darburl, that one.”
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  13
  
   
  Galad is a nonsense word for “I’m astonished” 
  or “I’m impressed.”
   
  Kell means try, but is used only when what-
  ever is being tried is unfinished, nigh impossible, 
  tricky, or dangerous, or there’s some doubt as to 
  whether whoever’s trying it will ever accomplish 
  it. “Kell” doesn’t change with tenses and is some-
  times used in place of “accomplish,” as in “You’re 
  not hoping to kell stealing that, are you?” and 
  “Kell such feats often, have you?” Polite speech 
  sticks to “try” and “tried” and “done,” leaving 
  “kell” for cynical, disbelieving, or openly derisive 
  speech, such as “Kings always say they’ll clean all 
  the monsters out of the woods. Oh, and they kell, 
  too, for a tenday, each of them, sometimes send-
  ing more than one knight to do it, too.”
   
  Lalandath means agile, sleek, and lithe. It is 
  often used to describe dancers or women whose 
  beauty is accentuated by their movements. A well-
  built but sleekly dancing tavern dancer might be 
  spoken of thus: “What a glimmer! A lalandath 
  spurnarmor, glim enough to leave every man in 
  the place rivvim!”
   
  Power (capitalized) means divine magical 
  powers.
   
  Rivvim means lusty or amorous. For example, 
  “I’m fair rivvim when I looks upon her.” It also 
  means ravenously hungry, as in “I was so rivvim I 
  could’ve eaten the cow, hooves, hair, and all!”
   
  Scorchkettles are people who habitually de-
  liver impressively blistering words to someone in 
  public, usually because they are quick-tempered.
   
  Spurnarmor is a spectacularly good-looking 
  man or woman, as in “If I had those features, 
  I’d be a spurnarmor too!” or “Galad! What a 
  spurnarmor!”
   
  Thael means glad, pleasant, or heart-lifting. 
  For example, “I’m always thael to see her,” or 
  “That feast was right thael,” or “I always get that 
  moment of thael, when I look down from the 
  ridge and see . . . home.”
   
  Time bells is any sort of alarm clock, wake-
  up gong, or audible time signal. Originally these 
  were temple bells, struck to summon faithful to 
  particular prayers.
   
  Throatslake (or gulletfire, for beer or wine) 
  is any drinkable that takes care of thirst and 
  doesn’t cause illness in doing so, but isn’t particu-
  larly pleasant to consume.
  Topics of Discussion
  The following entries are divided according to 
  general subject matter and serve as a guide to how 
  specific and nuanced certain bits of Realmspeak 
  can be.
   
  Importer: The well-established Realms terms 
  for such a profession are “trader from afar” and, 
  more often, “far-trader,” which doesn’t mean a 
  foreign merchant who has come from a long way 
  away—who is an “outlander merchant”—but 
  rather someone who trades in goods from afar. 
  “Far-shipper” and “caravan merchant” are also 
  common terms, both used to refer to merchants 
  who bring outland goods into Waterdeep for sale, 
  though far-shipper implies a two-way trade car-
  ried on by a trader who largely remains in the city, 
  and caravan merchant implies a traveling trader 
  who literally does the bringing and taking himself 
  or herself.
   
  The term “long-cask merchant” means some-
  one who deals in goods that have made a long 
  journey, whether the wares are actually shipped in 
  casks or not. A “far-wares merchant” is someone 
  who sells goods from afar, but might not neces-
  sarily ship them; many Waterdhavian shopkeepers 
  buy crates and coffers of curios that catch their 
  eye from Dock Ward warehouses, rather than ar-
  ranging specific importations.
   
  Hooligan: The Waterdhavian terms for non-
  professional street louts and others who behave 
  rudely and violently are “toughs,” “fastfists,” and 
  “alleyblades.” Toughs is a general collective term, 
  bespeaking an attitude of habitual street loiterers; 
  fastfists are those who are belligerent at that very 
  moment, such as when drunks spill out of a tavern 
  spoiling for a fight; and alleyblades are lowlife, 
  opportunistic thieves and scavengers who lurk in 
  alleys and carry knives or homemade weapons to 
  threaten or to defend themselves with. Any pur-
  veyors of muscle hired on a long-term basis, such 
  as the “Take care of that for me, will you?” gangs 
  hired by most nobles and wealthy non-nobles, are 
  called “bullyblades.”
   
  The Sword Coast term for vandals is “cask-
  smashers,” and the damage done is “casking” 
  (even if no casks are involved in a particular in-
  cident). “Fang gangs” are Dock Ward and South 
  Ward street gangs who use knives and carve gang 
  “sigils” on their forearms (or less conspicuous 
  places) and on their victims.
  Chapter 1
  14
  
   
  Posers who pretend to be hard, violent types, 
  but who are usually thrill-seeking teenagers, are 
  called sharpjaws because of their sneering, deri-
  sive words, and aggression.
   
  Paramour: “Rose” is the Waterdhavian term 
  for a beau, a suitor, or “the one I desire.” “He’s 
  my rose” or “She’s my rose” can mean either “He 
  or she is the one I want” or “We long for each 
  other.” It can mean “the love of my life,” but 
  more often it means “someone I long to have as 
  my partner, or we both desire to be together, but 
  haven’t yet actually become intimates.”
   
  “Brightheart” means someone your heart is 
  set on, now that the two of you have kissed and 
  danced, been seen together at revels, and felt a 
  desire to see more of each other.
   
  “Stag” (for males) or “doe” (for females) is 
  a polite (and bardic) way of describing a lover, 
  whereas “buck” or “steed” (or “filly” or “mare”) 
  are jocular, among-the-lads talk. These lat-
  ter terms would not be used in front of parents, 
  priests, or disapproving relatives.
   
  “Lovers” and “brightbirds” are perfectly po-
  lite, neutral terms in Sword Coast cities, the latter 
  implying two people who are is courting but not 
  necessarily intimate.
   
  “Fancyman” or “fancylass” is a disapproving 
  pejorative, as in “Your fancyman’s been around 
  again”; and if the speaker is older than the per-
  son being spoken of, “fancyman” will become 
  “fancylad.”
   
  Escort: Many terms are used to describe this 
  profession, shifting over time and with locale and 
  the social standing of either the person being de-
  scribed or the individual describing them.
   
  A coin lass (for females) or a turncoin (for 
  males) waits in an alley to attract clients. The es-
  cort usually entertains the client in a rented room, 
  which might be where he or she lives, or off the 
  alleyway, down in a cellar. Most often, such a 
  rented room is upstairs, above a street-level shop 
  that has no connection with the escort.
   
  A highcoin lass or a laugh-lad is an escort who 
  is more expensive and glim (beautiful, as in “She 
  was right glim” or “A proper glimmer, she was!”). 
  Such an individual is better dressed than every-
  day commoners and generally higher class. She 
  or he has a full set of teeth, bathes regularly, and 
  wears clean clothes that aren’t torn or in need of 
  mending.
   
  A highcoin lady or a bright spear is an escort 
  who tries to dress, act, and speak like a noble, 
  both to dazzle young clients and to attract cus-
  tomers interested in nobility.
   
  An escort of either gender who is so slick in 
  manner and deft in solicitations that only a few 
  clients know their trade at all is a hidecoin. A 
  vanishcoin, in contrast, is anyone—not just an 
  escort—who cheats on a business deal, thereby 
  making coin disappear (often by taking it else-
  where forever).
   
  Nouveau Riche: Down the centuries, in all 
  Faerûnian societies, there has been tension be-
  tween the nobility and those who aspire to such 
  status—to say nothing of the tension between 
  the wealthy and the hard-working, middle-class-
  or-lower guilded merchants, shopkeepers, and 
  crafters (craft workers). There are many terms 
  used to describe the wealthy who lack titles or 
  have only recently acquired them.
   
  “Newcoin” is a pejorative that refers to those 
  who are newly rich and spending to show it off.
   
  “Brightcoin” is used for the socially ris-
  ing. It’s actually a polite term unless twisted by 
  words attached to it. “Drippingly brightcoin,” for 
  instance, means one who is ostentatious in spend-
  ing, blindly adherent to fashion, and inclined to 
  display put-on manners. “Bright-fisted-coin” re-
  fers one who is ramming one’s own success down 
  the throats of friends, acquaintances, and anyone 
  within reach or earshot, or the practice of such 
  behavior, as in “He was loud and rude, full of 
  bright-fisted-coin talk, all the while; we couldn’t 
  wait to be rid of him!”
   
  “Thrusters” are tirelessly ambitious social 
  climbers. No arrogance is necessarily implied; 
  this word characterizes someone who will do any-
  thing to advance in standing, from behaving as a 
  sycophant to moving to another neighborhood to 
  performing all sorts of demeaning roles or decep-
  tions; a “whatever it takes” willingness.
   
  “Highmantle” is used for someone who is suc-
  cessfully superior or refined in manners, as in 
  someone who is politely haughty, not sneeringly 
  over-the-top offensively haughty. It is used both 
  for old-money families and genuine nobles, as 
  well as for persons whom the speaker knows to 
  be newly wealthy or not wealthy at all, but who 
  have successfully acted in a noble manner. For ex-
  ample, “And there he was, right in the thick of the 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  15
  
  dance, all proper highmantle, for all Faerûn as if 
  he’d been born bathing in gold coins!”
   
  “Highnose” describes one who displays a 
  general haughtiness. Also known in use are 
  “highnosed” and “nose-worthy.”
   
  “Swirlcloaks” are those trying to copy the ac-
  cents, phrases, fashions, gestures, and pastimes 
  of the nobility. In particular, the term refers to 
  someone who has suddenly come into money and 
  wants to elicit better treatment from others by 
  acting noble so as to be treated as noble.
   
  Thieves: The Realms has as many terms for 
  thieves as it does for escorts. Idiotically reck-
  less thieves are known as snatch-runners, even if 
  their crimes don’t actually involve snatching or 
  running. It’s a pejorative term used for those too 
  foolish to avoid being caught soon if they don’t 
  “learn them some wisdom” in a hurry.
   
  Clumsy thieves are inevitably “fumblehands,” 
  whereas a deft, veteran thief is a “softshadow,” as 
  in: “Never even seen ’im! He took her necklace, 
  tiara, and all soft as a passing shadow!” Someone 
  new to thievery is politely termed a “dayblood,” 
  meaning the thief “doesn’t yet have the blood of 
  the night in him.”
   
  “The blood of the night” refers to the feel, the 
  nature, or the essence of what it is to steal for a 
  living. “Nightblood” is a general term, devoid of 
  judgment, for an individual of the profession. For 
  example:
   
  “Who was out on the roof making such a noise? 
  Not a nightblood, surely!”
   
  “Nay, not even a fumblehands; just some ad-
  dlepate or lovelorn tryster out to try to break his 
  neck for himself!”
  Curses and Epithets
  Like everyone else, Faerûnians cuss from time to 
  time. Here are a few of the most popular Heart-
  lands profanities.
   
  “Haularake” (hah-rake; pronounced very 
  quickly, as if it has but two syllables) is the all-
  faiths, acceptable in polite society equivalent of 
  “gods darn it all, anyway.”
   
  “Sark” (ssark, drawn-out “s”) is a more pow-
  erful form of “haularake,” equivalent to “gods 
  damn it all!”
   
  “Hrast” (hur-rast) is a non-deity-specific 
  “damn.”
   
  “Hrammar” (hur-ram-uh) is a “hrast” equiva-
  lent used in the Shining South.
   
  “Naeth” (naythh, drawn-out “th”) is the 
  equivalent of saying “dung.”
   
  “Naed” (nayd) is a stronger form of “naeth.”
   
  “Orbal” (or-ball) is the Shining South equiva-
  lent of “naeth.”
   
  “Sabruin” (sah-broo-in) is the equivalent of “— 
  you” or “— off.”
   
  “Tluin” (tuh-loo-in) is the most emphatic way 
  of saying “sabruin.”
   
  “Stlarn” (stuh-larn) or “stlarning” is a mild 
  expletive, about equivalent to “screw,” as in 
  “Bah! They can’t do one simple thing without 
  stlarning up!”
   
  “Hrasting” (hur-rast-ing) is a mild form of 
  “stlarning,” not associated with “hrast.”
   
  “Straek” (strrake, drawn-out “r”) means “go 
  drown yourself, right now and painfully.”
  Then there are longer oaths. These are many and 
  fanciful, but a handful see widespread use in a 
  shortened, expletive-handy form.
   
  “Bind me!” (long form “Bind me and tar me”) 
  is a slightly stronger equivalent of “Weell, strike 
  me down!”
   
  “Dark!” (long form “Dark and empty!”) is the 
  equivalent of saying “Damn and blast!”
   
  “Hells!” (long form “Those of all the Nine 
  Hells take you!”) began as the Faerûnian equiva-
  lent of saying “The devil take you,” but is now 
  closer to “Hell take us all.”
   
  “Red garters!” (long form “I’ll turn out your 
  guts for blood red garters!”) which means, “Ho, 
  you’re going to catch it.”
   
  One mildly comical oath, still said in earnest 
  by older Faerûnians, usually when astonished, is: 
  “Happy dancing hobgoblins!” (Hobgoblins do not 
  say this, and are not amused when they hear it.)
  The Art of the Insult
  The provocative, demeaning, and antagonistic 
  terms and expressions in Realmspeak are as many 
  and varied as those who hurl them. However, the 
  more formal and less profane ones—such as those 
  written in books and drawled by nobles—tend to 
  take the form of “The stench of your X befouls 
  you,” where X might be “the low, coarse ways 
  of your heritage” or “your flagrant misdeeds” or 
  Chapter 1
  16
  
  “your transgressions against the gods and all rea-
  sonable folk.”
   
  There are old, well-used provocations (“Your 
  dam and sire met but once, and coin changed 
  hands—one coin, of copper, and bent”) and more 
  inventive ones (“Dragons fall stunned from the 
  skies when they behold what you are so bold as 
  to call your face, peering up at them”). Minstrels 
  and playwrights ensure that the Realms receives a 
  constant supply of new nastiness, from wry obser-
  vations (“His mother named him after the family 
  stallion, for some curious reason”) to the crude 
  and direct (“For once, try not to act as stupid as 
  your face tells all the world you are”).
   
  It should be noted that halflings, gnomes, 
  orcs, and elves all tend to be more amused than 
  angered by insults directed at them. The same 
  is true of dwarves, unless their female ancestors 
  or living kin are impugned. Human actors, min-
  strels, bards, courtiers, and caravan merchants 
  are the targets of so many insults that such in-
  dividuals soon learn to take them calmly even if 
  naturally hot-tempered. Drow, beholders, and 
  illithids tend to be intelligent enough to keep con-
  trol over themselves when they believe they have 
  been disrespected, but to call any of them “nigh 
  human” is an insult indeed.
  “Noblespeak” in Waterdeep
  A Waterdhavian addresses everyone of known 
  noble status as “lord” or “lady” (toddlers and 
  young children usually as “young lord” or “young 
  lady”). Brief bows are considered polite, but deep 
  or florid ones are now often taken as mockery.
   
  “Saer” (rather than “sir”), or “goodwoman” for 
  a female, is used by those uncertain of a person’s 
  status but not wanting to give offense. No offense 
  will be taken (except when one Waterdhavian 
  noble addresses another one as “saer”).
   
  “Saer” is also sometimes used to signal respect 
  when you know you’re addressing someone not 
  noble, but you believe the person has behaved 
  nobly, and so is “worthy to stand with the best.”
   
  A typical noble family consists of the “Lord 
  Bladderblat,” who is the head of the house and 
  who may or may not be its eldest male, and sev-
  eral “Lord Bladderblats” (his sons, cousins, 
  brothers, and uncles). “Old Lord Bladderblat” 
  always refers to an immediately previous head 
  of the house, so it’s either the dead father of the 
  current head or (rarely) someone dismissed from 
  being head of the house (perhaps exiled, deposed, 
  vanished, fled, or locked up as dangerously in-
  sane). In the same manner, the family can have 
  multiple Lady Bladderblats. It should be noted, 
  however, that widows are usually referred to as 
  “Dowager Lady Bladderblat” when speaking of 
  them, but just “Lady Bladderblat” when speaking 
  to them (widowers are accorded no such titular 
  distinction). 
   
  To address a Bladderblat as “young master” or 
  “young mistress” is seen as a form of admonish-
  ment. (The word “miss” in the Realms means 
  “fail to hit what you were aiming at”; it’s un-
  known as a form of address.) When spoken to 
  an infant, a toddler, or a misbehaving youth (up 
  to the age of eight or nine), “young master” or 
  “young mistress” is quite acceptable in the eyes 
  of the child’s noble parents, even if the speaker is 
  a servant, outlander, or the dirtiest of “low com-
  moners.” When used to address an older noble, 
  it’s an insult, tolerated—though not with plea-
  sure—only when used by the Watch or guard or 
  palace officers, or (passed off as not insulting) 
  when used by a very old noble to a younger noble. 
  The doddering, eighty-year-old Lady Glunder, 
  for instance, might say it disapprovingly to an 
  adolescent Lord Bladderblat and not discomfit 
  the Bladderblats at all; as an elder noble it is Lady 
  Glunder’s perfect right to speak thus.
  The badge of the Trail Lords trading coster, whose members are 
  proud to call themselves “wolves among merchants.” Rivals just 
  call them “the Snarling Wolves.”
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  17
   RICK DRENNAN
  
   
  Among adult Waterdhavian nobles (who, nat-
  urally, all know each other and see each other 
  often at feasts, clubs, and revels), it’s an insult 
  to address someone by the wrong title. As men-
  tioned above, an adult noble will take offense if 
  called “saer” by another noble, when that person 
  wouldn’t be upset at all if a commoner or out-
  lander addressed him or her as such. Nobles refer 
  to themselves as “we lords” or “we worthies,” 
  and they speak of the ruling Hidden Lords and 
  the Open Lord as “the Lords of the City.” Nobles 
  usually refer to non-noble Waterdhavians as “citi-
  zens” when being polite, and “commoners” when 
  being impolite.
   
  “Bladderblat” and “Glunder” are not real 
  Waterdhavian noble surnames, but every city in-
  habitant or frequent visitor knows them. They are 
  the two fictitious noble surnames most popular 
  among Waterdhavian satirical broadsheet writers, 
  minstrels, and tellers of rude street jokes. (“How 
  did Lord Bladderblat decide if young Lady Glun-
  der was a suitable match for his son? He tried 
  her out himself, of course. Several times.”) The 
  names originated as one acid-penned noble’s way 
  of decrying the antics of certain other nobles, cen-
  turies ago, when everyone knew the specific real 
  individuals who were being described and made 
  fun of. Today, no one even remembers which 
  noble invented these “fancynames” (the Water-
  dhavian term for “pseudonyms”), and they have 
  evolved into general archetypes.
  How to Address Rulers
  Many areas of Faerûn have distinctive forms of 
  government and correspondingly particular ways 
  of referring to those who rule.
   
  In Waterdeep, most citizens rarely have the 
  opportunity to speak to the Masked Lords (the 
  anonymous rulers of Waterdeep, who may or may 
  not be noble) directly, aside from very formal set-
  tings such as legal trials. When they do, they’re 
  usually speaking to a row of featureless masks, so 
  they say merely, “Lords.” When speaking to the 
  Open Lord, almost every Waterdhavian who isn’t 
  his personal friend will say “Lord Piergeiron” (or, 
  by 1479 DR, “Lord Neverember”), shortening 
  it to “Lord” only if they converse together for a 
  time.
   
  In Amn, members of the council are supposed 
  to be addressed either as “High Honored One” or 
  by their specific title, such as “Lord Tessarch.”
   
  In Cormyr, the king and queen are “Your 
  Majesty” and all other royals are “Your High-
  ness.” Nobility and senior courtiers are “lord” 
  and “lady,” with “saer” and “goodwoman” used 
  whenever the speaker is uncertain of rank, some-
  thing that can give offense if said to someone 
  of exalted rank. However, if “saer” or “good-
  woman” is said with a bow of the head, respect is 
  implied and no offense will usually be taken by 
  someone thus addressed, even if he or she is of 
  exalted rank.
  Speaking of Time
  Time in the Realms is never spoken of in terms of 
  hours or minutes. Where we would say “a second 
  or two,” most Faerûnian humans say “a breath 
  or two,” and what we would call a minute is “a 
  goodly breath or three.” Dwarves tend to call 
  anything up to about three minutes “but a little 
  while,” whereas a halfling would call the same 
  span of time “a long song.” To a halfling, a min-
  ute is “a tune,” and ten minutes is “three long 
  songs.” Most halflings tend to speak of longer 
  time periods within a single day in terms of how 
  far the sun has progressed.
   
  In cities, temples, and monasteries, the equiva-
  lent of hours are “bells” or “candles” (which 
  visibly burn down). These are counted in refer-
  ence to or from an obvious event, such as dawn, 
  dusk, or highsun (noon), as in “the trouble began 
  three bells before nightfall.”
   
  The common (as opposed to regional or poetic) 
  terms for the periods of each day are as follows.
   
  Modern Term 
  Realmspeak
   
  predawn 
  godswake
   
  dawn 
  dawn
   
  full morning 
  harbright
   
  late morning 
  elsun,
   
  noon 
  highsun
   
  early afternoon 
  thulsun
   
  late afternoon 
  tharsun
   
  sunset 
  sunset
   
  gloaming 
  eventide
   
  dusk 
  nightfall or dusk
   
  night 
  night
   
  midnight 
  midnight or deepnight
  Chapter 1
  18
  
   
  In Waterdeep, the clock time is counted in so 
  many bells, but folk also refer to times of day by 
  habitual meals. Breakfast is “mornfeast,” a mid-
  morning break is “slake,” lunch is “highsunfeast,” 
  a tharsun snack is “highthar,” supper or dinner 
  is “evenfeast,” a late evening meal is “high-
  feast,” and a night meal is a “brightstarfeast.” 
  It bears noting that most Waterdhavian shop-
  keepers, nobles, and guilded merchants refer to 
  late afternoons as “highthar,” or more formally 
  “highthar-time.” Special-occasion night meals are 
  named for the special occasion of which they are 
  a part.
   
  To a caravan merchant, a drover, or a farmer 
  from the lands around Waterdeep, as well as any 
  Waterdhavian noble (or aspiring noble) who rides 
  for sport, recreation, hunt, or to fly falcons, late 
  afternoon is “longride,” and dusk is “last ride.”
   
  In most walled cities that close their gates at 
  night, bells are triple-struck to mark when city 
  gates are about to soon open (if not at dawn) and 
  again when they are soon to close (if not at dusk). 
  Double-strikes are rung to mark the opening of 
  shops on workdays in some cities, and again to 
  mark the daily closing of shops.
   
  Days in the realms are never referred to as 
  “Monday,” “Tuesday,” or any real-world weekday 
  name. Most folk in the Realms refer to a par-
  ticular day as “the first of Mirtul” or “the last of 
  Eleint” or as one of the annual festival days. If 
  one must be precise, something like “the first day 
  of the first tenday of Ches” might be heard. If this 
  date is written or spoken of formally, it becomes 
  “1st Ches.”
  THE WRITTEN WORD
  Some folk in the Realms are illiterate, and 
  care little if they remain so. Others value writ-
  ings so highly that they hire the most expensive 
  veteran adventuring bands to steal or seize 
  particular books.
   
  Magical tomes are the most infamous, valu-
  able, and dangerous books of all; some are linked 
  to monstrous custodians, or even contain guard-
  ian spells, poisons, or creatures. Some can see, 
  think, fly, and unleash spells, thanks to the 
  sentience bound into them. For centuries, the 
  Chosen of Mystra have secretly placed magi-
  cal scrolls, workbooks, spellbooks, and mighty 
  grimoires in wizards’ tombs, treasuries, and even 
  in public libraries for novices of the Art to find. 
  Other enchanted tomes seem to want to be found; 
  the magics on them move them into the open, out 
  of hiding, time and time again.
   
  Yet even utterly unmagical books are valu-
  able, interesting—and sometimes dangerous. 
  Of course, in the eyes of some rulers, all books 
  are dangerous, because an ignorant populace is 
  more easily ruled, and any information can be a 
  weapon. What’s certain, down the centuries, is 
  that books, like the best gems, retain their value 
  more than almost anything else that’s easily 
  portable.
   
  Many temples derive a lot of income from 
  copying maps, charts, and portions of books from 
  their libraries. So do some independent scribes 
  (who often call themselves “scriveners”) in larger 
  cities across the Realms. In smaller settlements, 
  scribes spend most of their professional time 
  writing letters on behalf of the illiterate or the un-
  steady of hand.
   
  Regular books are quiet things, and so often 
  overlooked—but there is always a roaring trade in 
  such items in the Realms.
  Maps and Charts
  Maps in the Realms are expensive works, being 
  rare, easily damaged or destroyed, and more often 
  inaccurate than not. Large, detailed, good maps 
  are usually owned by rulers, from mayors of cit-
  ies who have sewer and street maps, up to kings 
  who own large and varied collections of old and 
  fanciful maps from everywhere. A fair number of 
  maps are also owned by temples, guildmasters, 
  and the families of mapmakers, explorers, and 
  adventurers.
   
  In many cases, limners (painters or portrait 
  drawers), local heralds, and scribes make good 
  livings copying simplified portions of maps 
  from such collections. Royal scribes and reli-
  gious scribes are on staff at the court and the 
  temple, and make copies for stiff fees. Indepen-
  dent scribes access the aforementioned private 
  family collections, and in some cases temple and 
  court collections, by paying fees. An independent 
  scribe usually pays a set fee, per map, for access. 
  This fee covers the time of the junior courtier or 
  novice priest who brings the map to a work area 
  within the court or the temple, as well as the time 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  19
  
  that individual spends watching while the scribe 
  works, to guard against theft, mutilation of maps, 
  and substitutions of false maps. The fee usually 
  amounts to a portion, usually a third or a half, 
  of the price the scribe charges the client for the 
  finished map. This means that maps for sale are 
  usually found or stolen items; most independent 
  scribes don’t create a specific map until hired to 
  do so.
   
  It follows that books of maps are very rare and 
  precious things, sometimes part of the most se-
  cret treasure of a guild or a temple, perhaps part 
  of a royal collection and kept in a closely guarded 
  inner vault.
   
  The most famous book of maps, known to 
  most bards and minstrels by reputation only, is 
  A Manyrealms Gallimaufry by the cartographer 
  Trammeth Anstrelgor. Candlekeep owns a frag-
  mentary copy (most books of maps suffer the 
  vandalism of having one or more maps torn out); 
  the complete original, according to legend, was 
  buried circa 1114 DR with Anstrelgor in his tomb, 
  somewhere forgotten in Tethyr.
   
  The most infamous one is Relvor’s Portals, a 
  slender grimoire of spells, portal locations and 
  instructions, and portal vicinity maps. A dozen 
  heavily vandalized copies are known to exist, and 
  a few have been bought and sold at mage fairs—
  transfers which involved the murder of owners 
  and worse.
   
  Many realms have official map books for the 
  use of garrison commanders and other public of-
  ficials, usually containing maps restricted to the 
  realm. One of the best of these is the constantly 
  updated Crown Book of the Realm for Cormyr, a 
  slim collection of Cormyrean palace, castle, city, 
  town, and village street maps.
   
  The best collections of maps in the Heartlands, 
  in descending order, are located in or at:
   
  the Herald’s Holdfast;
   
  Candlekeep;
   
  Piergeiron’s palace in Waterdeep;
   
  the Star Court in Silverymoon;
   
  various hidden vaults beneath the high palace 
  in Silverymoon;
   
  the Hallowed House of Higher Achievement 
  temple to Deneir in Selgaunt;
   
  the royal court in Suzail;
   
  the Society of Stalwart Adventurers club in 
  Suzail;
   
  the Leaves of Learning temple to Oghma in 
  Highmoon, in Deepingdale;
   
  the Halls of Inspiration temple to Oghma in 
  Silverymoon;
   
  the Twilight Hall temple to Deneir in Berdusk; 
  and
   
  the Sanctum of the Seven Scribes (a book and 
  map-copying library) in Athkatla.
  Nautical charts tend to be cruder, more inaccu-
  rate, and even more precious than maps. Many 
  sea captains draw their own, usually using lit ta-
  pers or quills to burn markings in cured, durable 
  bull hide as they consult the chart of another 
  captain—in return for stiff fees and under the 
  watchful eye of that captain. The buying and sell-
  ing of even spurious charts is a roaring business 
  in most port cities, and some scribes make a good 
  living turning out endless copies of a fragmentary 
  original chart they found or inherited.
  Popular Literature
  Personal accounts of travels predominate among 
  human publications across Toril. These are the 
  same sort that were so popular in real-world Eu-
  rope during the times of exploration, discovery, 
  and colonization; the sort of books parodied by 
  such mock titles as A Gentlelady’s Adventures in 
  Darkest Murkaria or Down the River of Doom with 
  Gun and Camera. In the Realms, there are so many 
  of these that no one tome has risen to prominence.
   
  This phenomenon is due to the same reason 
  that real-world fiction varies widely in genre and 
  style: the books are read primarily for enjoy-
  ment rather than for information. Of course, for 
  a book to be successful in Faerûn, it’s essential 
  that it purport to contain some practical lore or 
  insider information. The style of writing—which 
  is humorous, filled with “you are there” rich 
  descriptions, and resembles “good yarn” fanci-
  ful tavern-tale-telling—is more important than 
  up-to-date factual content. Some peculiar local 
  habits and customs are imparted, stereotypes 
  about the folk of a particular land or town are 
  passed on, and some good fireside yarns—always 
  embellished and sometimes entirely fictitious—
  are thrown in.
   
  Wayfarers’ histories are considered “essential 
  reading for educated persons,” as the sage Ontil 
  of Baldur’s Gate put it, but no one agrees on just 
  Chapter 1
  20
  
  which titles are best, which has prevented any 
  of them rising to famous, truly essential status. 
  Lasting popularity is the only way a dispassion-
  ate observer can identify the best candidates to be 
  placed on any core reading list.  A few titles that 
  have enjoyed some lasting popularity include:
   
  My Sword Points the Way (by Tarrondur Mae-
  rinspyke, first published 1246 DR): This book 
  centers on a handsome, dashing Tethyrian adven-
  turer, made rich by his many marriages to wealthy 
  widows, who tours the wilder backlands of coun-
  tries around the Sea of Fallen Stars. He ends up 
  in contented service, in his declining years, in Da-
  randra’s House, a small, now-vanished temple to 
  Sharess in Deepingdale. His descriptions are dated 
  but very colorful, and provide a handy collection of 
  local jokes, legends, and tall tales that have served 
  more than one adventurer trying to pretend to be 
  “a long-lost local, returned home at last.”
   
  Lancegrove’s Travels (1277-1296 DR diaries by 
  Tal Lancegrove, posthumously edited into book 
  form by his daughter Tarteera Lancegrove, and 
  published in 1306 DR): This book covers the ex-
  ploits of a tireless merchant-explorer of Iriaebor 
  who fared far into the Moonsea North and the 
  lands east of the Great Dale, seeking trade goods, 
  gems, and gold. It is packed with descriptions of 
  trails, mountain passes, wayfarers’ landmarks, 
  local weather, and perils, and filled with now-
  dated analyses of local politics and mercantile 
  power struggles.
   
  Lornra Among the Loxo (by Sharmra Lornra, 
  published in 1322 DR): Lornra tells the tale of the 
  bold pirate Lorna the Reaver who, facing certain 
  death as several foes closed in on her, abruptly 
  abandoned her life of Inner Sea piracy to journey 
  overland, laden with the rich spoils of her success. 
  Her travels ultimately took her to the depths of 
  the Shaar, where she joined and dwelled among 
  certain tribes of the elephantine loxo, making a 
  I’ve always loved giving players handouts, particularly in the form of messages found as graven inscriptions, passages in books or ledgers, 
  words scorched or written in blood on walls, or scrawls on scraps of parchment found on corpses. These could be just in plain English, but 
  it’s so much more fun (and makes players “feel the world alive”) to write them in the scripts of the dozen-some languages I devised for the 
  Realms. The illusionists’ secret script; symbols used by thieves, the Harpers, and other groups; the runes of dwarves, and so on. 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  21
  
  life for herself that culminated in her defeating 
  adventurers sent to find her, romancing a mage 
  among them, and convincing him to magically 
  transform himself and her into loxo form. They 
  led their tribe to defeat several other tribes, but 
  were ultimately cast out by the loxo, which had 
  become increasingly revolted by their warlike na-
  ture and aggressive pursuit of power. Ultimately 
  they retired to an ancient, hidden tomb-labyrinth 
  in the heart of the Shaar, where they dwelled, 
  crafting portals, pursuing covert lives of magical 
  thefts, and trading in poisons, weapons, potions, 
  drugs, and spells until the mage (named Bren-
  taen) was killed. Lornra then wound her business 
  down, spending much of her time thereafter writ-
  ing Lornra Among the Loxo and sneaking through 
  portals to murder folk who had displeased her. 
  She has not been heard from for some decades. 
  In addition to containing detailed accounts of 
  amorous dalliances and some portal-finding and 
  portal-operating instructions, the book hints at 
  where in the Shaar she buried various chests of 
  her gold and gems, and to this day enjoys brisk 
  sales among coin-hungry adventurers.
  Each of the above works, and the dozen or so 
  almost-as-popular rivals, exist in hundreds or 
  thousands of copies scattered across Faerûn, most 
  in several editions. If a merchant notices a title 
  selling briskly, he holds one copy back to serve 
  as the master for a new printing—a feat accom-
  plished by copying it out by hand in multiples. 
  This task is often done by using children—who 
  don’t have to read to be able to precisely copy an 
  original—or the elderly, who can be had for little 
  pay. It is also sometimes done by re-cutting the 
  story onto new wooden blocks, again by someone 
  who need not be able to read what they’re copy-
  ing. The original author rarely gets paid anything 
  for these later editions, and might never know of 
  their existence.
  Philosophical Tomes
  Written philosophy in the Realms is dominated 
  by religious dogma and thought, tempered by 
  semi-secret “tricks of the trade” writings about 
  rulership and business success. The rulership 
  books are often kept in private royal libraries, 
  with public copies outlawed or snapped up by 
  Crown agents. Business success books tend to be 
  gathered in guild libraries but are hawked across 
  the Realms by every peddler and caravan mer-
  chant. These business books can’t successfully 
  be suppressed by anyone, particularly since new 
  titles are published almost every month. New re-
  leases in this genre often endlessly rehash or even 
  directly copy the ideas and prose of older writers, 
  often without any acknowledgment.
   
  There are also cosmological writings that 
  in the main brush past religious views, to treat 
  Realmspace (even if none of them call it that) as a 
  region to be explored rather than the home of the 
  gods or as the realm of an afterlife.
   
  Of these explorations that explore the known 
  universe without overmuch religious slant or 
  through “the eyes of faith,” the most important 
  works are The Great Realms in the Stars by Jhevven 
  Dree of Tharsult (1332 DR) and Realms Beyond 
  Those We Know by Armlarra Stormcloak (1338 DR).
   
  Dree writes of elven skyships and realms 
  those vessels can sail to, where the skies are dif-
  ferent, and he envisages “other worlds than this 
  one” without specifying what they are. He sug-
  gests that the gods are divine because they can 
  call on the energies of these other worlds when 
  we mortals can’t, and that they achieve their own 
  immortality, unless slain by other gods, by being 
  able to put some of their vital essences on these 
  other worlds, out of reach of any mortal foe. Dree 
  speculates that mortals could become gods if they 
  developed the Art sufficiently to be able to un-
  derstand and reliably manipulate the energies of 
  these other worlds, reach and come to understand 
  them, and leave vital parts of themselves there 
  “as all gods do.” Dree’s scanty and fragmentary 
  descriptions of these other worlds suggest he has 
  visited places very different from Toril—perhaps 
  even other planes of existence.
   
  Stormcloak takes a different approach. She be-
  lieves that the nature and specifics of the gods and 
  godhood are beyond mortals and that specula-
  tions on such matters “are, and can only ever be, a 
  waste of time, spittle, and ink.” The realms beyond 
  Toril are merely places “where different skies are 
  seen, different conditions pertain, and different 
  strange beasts roam,” which folk of Faerûn should 
  explore and exploit as they dare. She devotes her-
  self to describing as much as she has been able to 
  learn “from diverse sources, many of them deemed 
  mad,” but the vivid descriptions in her book lack 
  Chapter 1
  22
  
  named and identified places or clear and coherent 
  ways to reach them.
   
  Both Dree and Stormcloak are still alive, 
  though frailly and elderly, and both are said to be 
  working on new books eagerly awaited by many 
  sages, adventurers, and merchants across Faerûn.
  Religious Writings
  These sorts of books are vast, and can be divided 
  into five kinds.
   
  Temple Histories: Straightforward accounts 
  of the founding, development, events and achieve-
  ments of a particular shrine, temple, holy site, 
  abbey, monastery, or other holy place of a faith.
   
  Sermons: Collections of messages, holy 
  thoughts and prayers, and other writings intended 
  to be read aloud to the faithful as part of religious 
  rites.
   
  Religious Dogma: The official creed of the 
  church, any divine pronouncements and holy 
  laws, and the specific conduct and instructions 
  for holy rites.
   
  Inspirational Texts: Writings about deities, 
  interpreting their actions, words, manifestations, 
  and signs.
   
  Personal Holy Histories: Accounts by mortal 
  individuals of how they came to primarily worship 
  one deity over others, converted from one pri-
  mary faith to another, or how they were changed 
  by divine contacts and holy experiences.
  Books of sermons are by far the most numerous 
  tomes to be bought and either hurled onto fires 
  as fuel or found in the temples and the homes 
  of the devout. Many faiths deliberately leave 
  copies of them in shrines and at holy sites for pil-
  grims or faithful passersby to take, read, and be 
  inspired by.
   
  Personal holy histories are the most popular 
  books bought and sold—but only among those of 
  the same faith as the author.
   
  Every temple will have copies of all five kinds 
  of books, with inspirational texts being the most 
  poorly represented (or even hidden away and 
  disapproved of). Thanks to all the gods being 
  considered real and important, there are no big 
  names of religious books that rise above the rest.
   
  Perhaps the most famous popular religious 
  writers are the warring sages Rondarro of Sel-
  gaunt and Askral of Calimport. These two sages’ 
  learned disagreements over what importance 
  this or that deity places on the monetary value of 
  offerings versus diligent prayer and belief has es-
  calated, over the years, into a personal feud that 
  ended up with each one taking caustically sarcas-
  tic opposing views in chapbook after rebutting 
  chapbook dealing with almost every faith.
   
  Rondarro’s most famous work is From the Dawn 
  Cataclysm to the End of All (1316 DR), though 
  most people have heard of it but never read a 
  word of it. Askral’s most popular work is How 
  Wrong Can One Sembian Be? (1324 DR), which is 
  valued more for its viciously eloquent attacks on 
  Rondarro than for the views it espouses.
   
  It’s thought that both men are still alive, but 
  trapped in a spell cast on them by the exasper-
  ated queen of Aglarond after they attacked at each 
  other at a conclave she was attending in Baldur’s 
  Gate. This spell, legend has it, placed their bod-
  ies in a stasis while their minds wander a maze, 
  debating with various spectral servants of Mystra. 
  Other sages believe that both must have gone mad 
  long ago—but still others insist they were mad 
  long before The Simbul’s spell.
  The Rules of Rulership
  The most infamous source of advice for rulers is 
  the Calishite courtier Erlo Elraedan, who in 1212 
  DR published his only known work, The Blood-
  Drenched Throne. An often mocking, generally 
  ruthless how-to book on how to reward, scare, 
  awe, or earn the love of subjects, it was written for 
  rulers who use armed soldiers to do their bidding.
   
  Elraedan advocates that a ruler promote just 
  laws and then establish a not-so-secret personal 
  strike force that is clearly above the law, and can 
  with impunity do anything to any citizen. He 
  also considers holding onto rule at all costs to be 
  the duty of every ruler, because every transfer 
  of rulership weakens a realm. Ruling firmly and 
  consistently, showing ruthlessness rather than 
  mercy, is therefore also a ruler’s duty, because 
  uncertainty, change, and vacillation all leave a 
  realm weaker and more vulnerable, even if only in 
  reputation.
   
  Elraedan has harsh words, however, for rul-
  ers who become so wrapped up in holding power 
  that they surround themselves with sycophants 
  rather than honest advisors and reporters, and 
  who never properly prepare a successor and 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  23
  
  an orderly succession. He lauds a minor rob-
  ber baron lordling of the Border Kingdoms, an 
  otherwise forgotten warrior named Skalandro 
  Sarlawge, who chose Harlar Dawnstrake, his rival 
  and a strong warrior and rebel, as his succes-
  sor. Sarlawge built up Dawnstrake’s reputation 
  by spreading false rumors of his prowess, invited 
  Dawnstrake to a feast, and there arranged his 
  own death by way of a fiery spell cast by a con-
  cealed mage, in a staged moment that made it 
  seem as though the gods had struck down Sar-
  lawge and chosen Dawnstrake as his successor.
  The Book of Dragons
  Sammaster, the founder of the Cult of the 
  Dragon, trusted no one. However, he partially 
  trusted a few individuals within the cult far more 
  than he did others. One such was a sly rogue 
  known as Indithul, who as an intrepid adven-
  turing agent of the Cult found—and used—a 
  magical means of longevity in a tomb he plun-
  dered. As a result, Indithul yet lives. He and some 
  others have confirmed that Sammaster ached to 
  find and use a long-lost—or rather, long-hidden—
  magical tome: The Book of Dragons.
   
  The Book of Dragons was hidden by Khelben 
  “Blackstaff” Arunsun at the direct order of the 
  goddess Mystra herself. Said to be a large book 
  bound in electrum, with metal pages in which the 
  letters and other characters have been stamped, 
  this tome contains short, fanciful tales about 
  the lives of various dragons, written to be read 
  aloud to children. The dragons associated with 
  each story are real wyrms, magically bound in 
  stasis somewhere in the Realms. And as each 
  story is read, as Sammaster believed (and which 
  Elminster has confirmed as truth), the dragon as-
  sociated with it is released, to fly free in Faerûn.
   
  Sammaster coveted the book to try to induce 
  the dragons linked to it to become dracoliches 
  and part of the cult, but he never found it. Sev-
  eral senior mages of the Zhentarim also sought 
  it, some hiring several bands of adventurers to 
  hunt in places they thought it might be, includ-
  ing the Ghost Holds of Battledale, one of the 
  half-drowned cellars under Marsember, and deep 
  inside Undermountain. They, too, failed to re-
  cover it. One band brought back the claims of a 
  wizard who called himself the Keeper—claims 
  they obtained through torture, ere the wizard 
  died of their ungentle questioning—that The Book 
  of Dragons had been wrested from him by a living, 
  unbound dragon, and that the book is now part of 
  its hoard.
   
  There have been many suggestions as to who 
  crafted The Book of Dragons, but most are mere 
  speculation. Orondryn of Cormanthor, a sorcerer 
  sage-of-Art who vanished long before the City of 
  Song first became Myth Drannor, believed that 
  Ioulaum of the Netherese made it and magically 
  bound the twenty-six dragons linked to it. But 
  this might be his mere speculation. Whatever the 
  truth of the tome’s origins, the dragons linked to 
  it were magically bound against their will, very 
  long ago, and when freed they are both furious 
  and bewildered. The Realms is warned.
  Literacy in Cormyr
  In Cormyr, ever since Azoun IV ascended to the 
  throne, the rulers of Cormyr have made certain 
  that all Purple Dragons can read and write—a 
  skill that they ensure gets practice by having them 
  filing brief but frequent written reports. They 
  have strongly encouraged all Cormyrean nobility 
  to train their entire households to read and write, 
  as well.
   
  This campaign began with Azoun IV under the 
  persistent urging of both his court sage Alaphon-
  dar and the man who really ran the kingdom, the 
  wizard Vangerdahast. Their reasons were many, 
  but the public ones are as follows:
   
  More literate native-born Cormyreans means a 
  larger pool of folk from which courtiers and spies 
  can be drawn.
   
  Oersons with a natural aptitude for the Art can 
  more easily advance because they already know 
  how to read and write spells.
   
  A more literate general populace cuts down on 
  casual dishonesty in trade.
   
  A more literate general populace increases 
  the chance that random commoners will able to 
  recognize important, suspicious, and danger-
  ous writing if they come across it. This issue has 
  been a problem in the past, when Sembians used 
  Cormyrean illiteracy to write to each other in 
  Cormyrean taverns, knowing that no one could 
  understand their true conversation.
  As well as training soldiers and cajoling the no-
  bility to train their people, the Crown of Cormyr 
  Chapter 1
  24
  
  began a policy early in Azoun’s reign that con-
  tinues to this day of making monetary donations 
  to local tutors and priests of Deneir and Oghma 
  for freely teaching anyone who asks how to read 
  and write.
   
  Some of the enticements to read are “chap-
  books,” which are coverless booklets of only a few 
  pages in length, about as wide and tall as a large 
  man’s hand, and “riders.” Chapbooks are racy 
  tales sold by peddlers and caravan merchants, 
  that purport to tell the latest lurid gossip about 
  social and court life in Suzail. Riders are collec-
  tions of installments of three sorts of serialized 
  stories: simple adventure tales for children, the 
  exploits of larger-than-life adventurers, and one 
  steamy ongoing saga of a devastatingly handsome 
  and morally flexible fictional noble swashbuckling 
  his way across the realm.
   
  That’s what counts as “literature” to many 
  crofters across Cormyr.
   
  However, in the three cities of the realm, and 
  among certain families and individuals scattered 
  all across the Forest Kingdom, serious literature 
  also exists. Of course, no Cormyrean would ever 
  call it that, because the Forest Kingdom entirely 
  lacks any literary snobbery, except among sages 
  sniping at each other’s published works for re-
  flecting biases or exhibiting lazy scholarship.
   
  In a given year, five hundred or so books are 
  published in Cormyr, mainly in Suzail, although 
  there are also binderies in Arabel. Of these, about 
  one hundred fifty or so are scholarly sagecraft, 
  commonly known as furrowbrow writings. The 
  average circulation of a sagely tome is about six 
  hundred copies, of which a hundred or so are ex-
  ported to waiting buyers in Waterdeep, Sembia, 
  and elsewhere outside the borders of the Forest 
  Kingdom.
   
  The rest of Cormyr’s annual output of books 
  consists of around three hundred fifty popu-
  lar works. These are all bound volumes, usually 
  parchment leaves sewn into calfskin bindings. 
  They tend to be small and easily held, though 
  The loudest and most persistent seekers of the Book of Dragons have thus far found only false trails, traps—and their deaths. Most sages 
  are unsurprised when new accounts of these frustrated endeavors arise.
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  25
  WILLIAM O’CONNOR
  
  sometimes very thick, and they can address al-
  most any topic.
   
  No court permission is required to publish any-
  thing, with three exceptions: anything of or about 
  magic, anything of or about a living member of 
  the royal family, and anything specific about cur-
  rent Cormyrean military dispositions. There’s no 
  such thing as copyright or libel, though courtiers 
  can order untruths to be publicly recanted, and 
  nobles can and will duel over words they dislike, 
  or arrange to have a commoner whose words they 
  disapprove of beat up. Reprisals are often guarded 
  against by the use of pseudonyms.
   
  Print runs and sales of these volumes vary 
  widely, depending on their popularity, which 
  (in rough terms) is as follows, from most popular 
  to least.
   
  Riders: Average 18,000 copies each.
   
  Readers: Collections of eight or so writings, 
  one of which is usually current gossip, another 
  one or two being polemics (colorful rants are pre-
  ferred), and the rest being an array of fiction. The 
  fiction consists of aforementioned popular genres, 
  plus endless war adventures of this or that simple 
  lad—or lass, disguised as a man —rising from the 
  barnyard to command armies, and light manner 
  comedies of the high life of Suzail that often in-
  clude satirical references to real folk and events. 
  Average 14,500 copies each.
   
  Recipe Collections: Always avidly devoured 
  in kitchens across the realm, from farm huts to 
  noble palaces, and in most inns, too, the hot topic 
  for recipe collections is new spice and herb mix-
  tures. In lean winter days, farm families often 
  gather at the abode of whoever has the warm-
  est kitchen and the largest cauldron, and make a 
  communal stew, reading aloud from recipe books 
  as entertainment. Average 8,000 copies each.
   
  Tyankurs: How-to books about farming, es-
  pecially breeding and “new seeds from afar,” 
  and craftwork are popular. They are sometimes 
  bought up by guilds so they can be destroyed en 
  masse, to protect secrets. As a result, helpful hints 
  for dyes and repairs and daily little tasks are rising 
  in popularity, and in-depth how-to tomes are de-
  clining. Average 3,500 copies each.
   
  Wider Realms Books: Gossipy travel ex-
  ploits, plus tall tales and recent news from distant 
  parts of the Realms. Average 1,700 copies each.
   
  Histories: This category includes mem-
  oirs and legends of old Cormyr. Old soldiers’ 
  campaign accounts are the most popular works 
  here, especially if full of juicy details about daily 
  screw-ups, officers carousing or making mistakes, 
  grisly battle occurrences, and so on. Average 
  1,200 copies each.
   
  Everything Else: Here are included collec-
  tions of love poetry; collections of wise sayings; 
  annual reviews of breeding stables and “hot” 
  horses for racing and stud; annual overviews of 
  trade shortages and opportunities; predicted fads 
  and fashions in Suzail, the Dales, and around 
  the Moonsea; and stand-alone polemics. Average 
  1,000 copies each.
  The figures cited above are publishers’ sales, and 
  don’t include re-sales. Most copies are loaned 
  around and read by many, then resold to a ped-
  dler to be sold elsewhere, where the process might 
  be repeated. They also omit temple copies, ex-
  cept for Candlekeep, which treasures originals. 
  A temple of Deneir or Oghma will purchase a 
  single copy of a literary work, examine it, and if 
  it (or a portion of it) is viewed as worthy of wider 
  circulation, the temple will hand-recopy it any 
  number of times for circulation among temples of 
  the same faith throughout the Realms. Of course, 
  not a copper coin, nor any word of this activity, 
  goes to the original author. Traffic in the form of 
  letters, such books, priestly decrees, and sermon 
  texts is constant among temples, usually carried 
  by trusted priests in sewn-shut, waterproofed 
  parcels.
   
  Cormyr, especially Suzail, has a thriving, 
  growing literary culture, with a solid base of read-
  ership ever since the 1350s DR. From then on, 
  best sellers began to appear— books that every-
  body in the kingdom was reading or wanted to 
  read. Noble houses began to patronize writers for 
  more than merely turning out self-congratulatory 
  family histories and courtship poems, sponsor-
  ing these “dream-scribblers” to produce fiction 
  for all to enjoy. The noble house stamped its 
  heraldic badge onto the bindings of sponsored 
  dream-scribblers and took credit for making 
  the entertainment possible, in hopes of winning 
  friendly regard realm-wide. And nobles and just 
  plain shop workers and tradesmen, as well as 
  sages, began to assemble personal libraries—a few 
  shelves at most of favorite books, usually. All of 
  this provides the right climate for works of great-
  ness to begin to appear.
  Chapter 1
  26
  
  EVENTS AND 
  FESTIVALS
  Most communities in the Realms hold trade fairs, 
  which are annual events tied to local commerce, 
  such as farmers driving their herds into town on 
  one or two weekends every fall for “largehand 
  buyers” (bulk buyers) to see and bid on. Even-
  tually, over the passing years, these trade fairs 
  attract gatherings of food vendors, camp follow-
  ers, and finally wagon peddlers of all sorts, until 
  the local authorities decide to make a few silver 
  coins off everyone and stake out proper rental 
  plots for the erection of stalls.
   
  Pure sporting events—except for religious 
  ones, such as “champion frays” put on by large 
  temples of Tempus, akin to knightly jousting tour-
  naments—are much rarer. Most folk in Faerûn 
  just don’t have that sort of leisure time.
   
  A few locales in the Realms, such as Hillsfar, 
  have arenas where battles (gladiatorial contests) 
  are staged. In addition, in regions like the Dales 
  there are many small archery shoots (the sort of 
  activity the Sheriff of Nottingham sponsored in 
  an effort to trap Robin Hood). Small, one-day 
  events with modest prizes, like a sack of flour, a 
  sack of potatoes, twelve coppers and a good dag-
  ger, or two new wagon wheels, are the norm.
   
  Festivals, especially religious ones, and an-
  nual celebrations are common across Faerûn, and 
  many involve an element of misrule, such as ap-
  prentices clashing in the streets, demonstrations 
  of weapon skill, glorified and wide-ranging games 
  of tag, and so on. In larger cities, it can be hard 
  to find days on which someone isn’t celebrating 
  something, but these observances are hardly ever 
  citywide, and rarely involve sporting events aside 
  from some sort of street race, such as those that 
  involve wild horses or cutthroat chariot contests.
   
  Waterdeep has its own arena, but very few big 
  annual events. Most often, the arena is not used 
  for public events but for City Guard and City 
  Watch training sessions. There are horse races 
  east of the city that folk can watch from atop the 
  cliff top wall in spring, and many small compe-
  titions, from oratory and minstrelsy contests to 
  wrestling matches and “cat fights” involving two 
  actresses dressed as high-class nobles who tear off 
  each other’s outer clothing and hair in mock rages 
  involving as many hilariously snooty insults as 
  they can think of. These smaller competitions are 
  held in the various clubs and private-rental upper 
  tavern rooms of the city.
  Summertide Fests of 
  Silverymoon
  Almost every settlement in all of civilized surface 
  Faerûn has annual festivities of some sort on or 
  around Midsummer and Shieldmeet. Because Sil-
  verymoon is one of the most tolerant, open, and 
  artistic cities, it has many such festivities. A brief 
  overview of Silvaeren’s summertime festivals fol-
  lows. It can serve as a model for devising events in 
  other Realms locales. In addition to what’s men-
  tioned here, many temples in Silverymoon hold 
  various celebrations and rites—but only Moon-
  down is observed citywide. 
   
  During the tenday preceding Midsummer, a 
  festival is celebrated every day. Here are those ten 
  events, followed by discussions of Midsummer 
  and Shieldmeet.
  Oldcasks: What’ll You Have?
  The first festival is a day during which private in-
  dividuals and businesses all across the city make 
  or find and dust off various vintages from their 
  cellars and sell them off tables set up by their 
  front doors in preparation for the festivities to 
  come. Wineries and “flagon shops” often offer 
  special sales or import hard-to-find or novelty 
  vintages such as: “Dwarfbeard Ale! Contains the 
  ashes of genuine dwarf beards!” or “Elfmaidblood 
  Ruby, a fine red guaranteed to contain drops of 
  blood from gold elf maidens of the eldest, proud-
  est lineages!” In addition, all the city temples cast 
  poison-neutralizing magic for free on all liquids 
  brought to them from dawn to dusk, a feat ac-
  complished by stockpiling scrolls and calling in 
  faithful clergy from outside the city.
  Cloakswirl: Dressing the Part
  In this crafters’ festival, various costumes, gar-
  ments, and fashion accessories are sold for use 
  during the festivities ahead. No masks, cosmet-
  ics, or headgear are sold on Cloakswirl—doing so 
  is not unlawful, it’s just considered unlucky, and 
  so in most shops, such things are hidden away for 
  the day. Street vending is freely allowed on Cloak-
  swirl, and most shops move tables out into the 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  27
  
  street. These must all be cleared away by highsun 
  of the next day (Moondown). By tradition, inns 
  and taverns put on, or hire actors to stage, brief 
  plays or dramatic readings after dusk.
  Moondown: Selûne’s Time
  This day is a normal working day, until highsun. 
  Thereafter, everyone in the city bathes—in the 
  river, if they’ve nowhere else to go—then puts on 
  new garments they’ve never worn before. Folk 
  without coin for new clothes trade clothes for the 
  night. A solemn ceremony of worship to Selûne is 
  held, starting at dusk. A Moondance—the slow, 
  quiet, sweeping movements of many dancers clad 
  in palely glowing “moonrime” (white to very light 
  green) garments, led by priests—winds its way 
  along city streets until dawn. Moonwine, squirted 
  from the nozzles of shoulder-carried wine skins, 
  and platters of small round cakes are offered 
  freely by the dancers to everyone they pass. 
  Wishes are whispered to the moon, and loved 
  ones who perished during the preceding year are 
  softly named. Temples of Shar are closed during 
  the day, and her worshipers by tradition pray only 
  in private, not wearing any ceremonial garb, vest-
  ments, or symbols of their goddess.
  Masks: New Face for a Day
  Elaborate (and often very expensive) masks, cos-
  metics, and headgear are sold on this day for the 
  revelry that begins at nightfall and continues on 
  night and day through Midsummer night. On 
  this day Alustriel typically pays every musician 
  (players of instruments, not singers) who desires 
  to play in the streets a “flourish” of 25 gp, and 
  many minstrels wander, playing music alone or in 
  groups.
  Elskelter: Catch a Skull!
  As with Moondown, this is a normal working day 
  until highsun. At that time, all the city and tem-
  ple bells are rung, and the Skull Run begins.
   
  The Skull Run is a giant game of hide-and-
  seek wherein swift, agile, persons wearing 
  skull-head masks try to get from any gate of the 
  city to the Moonbridge without being caught. 
  The catching is done by a mob of persons, each 
  of whom must, in order to participate, down a 
  potent drink to the dregs, which makes them lit-
  erally tipsy—that is, staggering on their feet. The 
  Skull Run is administered by the Spellguard, who 
  prepare the drinks and give drinkers one-eyed 
  hoods to wear. Only those wearing the one-eyed 
  hoods are allowed to take part in the fun.
   
  Typically one Skull Runner will start from 
  each gate of the city. The runners cannot use any 
  translocation magic but can employ other forms 
  of magical movement. Although they can, and 
  usually do, go bare-skinned and greased, they 
  must wear their skull masks at all times. This 
  means that tearing off a Skull Runner’s mask is 
  one way to delay that competitor. However, chas-
  ers are forbidden to hide, throw, or carry masks. 
  They may only snatch a mask off a runner’s head 
  (then drop it nearby)—but this they may do as 
  many times as they wish, and can manage. The 
  Spellguard typically teleports a Skull Runner 
  away from harm if one is injured, gets into a fight, 
  or is attacked in earnest. It’s understood that a 
  runner will be healed or even brought back to life 
  if one comes to harm during the Skull Run.
   
  Every year, Alustriel announces prizes for 
  chasers for “catching Skulls,” as well as prizes for 
  Skull Runners who successfully reach the Moon-
  bridge. These are typically monetary, but might 
  involve a Skull Runner choosing any single spell 
  (that Alustriel can manage) to be cast upon one-
  self, or another service or boon.
   
  The Skull Run began in the days when Silvery-
  moon was founded, but was later banned after 
  widespread and deadly fighting broke out in two 
  successive years. Alustriel revived it in 1324 DR.
   
  From dusk onward, this night is traditionally 
  when old friends gather to catch up on events of 
  the past year, or begin to negotiate deals or plan 
  the year ahead, and absent friends are remem-
  bered and toasted.
  Claws: Monsters Remembered
  On this day, elaborate costumes are worn by 
  citizens—or even several citizens sharing the 
  same oversized costume—so they can imper-
  sonate various monsters. Dragons and owlbears 
  are perennial favorites. These marauding mon-
  sters parade through the streets, heading for 
  particular taverns. Older citizens just watch the 
  monsters proceed along, but younger ones fall 
  in behind them and repair to the taverns, where 
  the costume wearers doff their hoods to receive 
  free drinks and meals. While dining, they are 
  Chapter 1
  28
  
  entertained by bards, minstrels, and old retired 
  adventurers telling wild and dramatic tales of 
  monster slayings, battles against beasts that got 
  away, and horrific ghost stories of revenant mon-
  sters, creatures of the Underdark lurking under 
  all our feet right now, and so on.
   
  These tales go on into the wee hours, with 
  the taverns serving free drinks to all. Tradition-
  ally these drinks are very watered down, so it’s 
  hard to get intoxicated before one feels bloated, 
  but taverns vie with each other in doctoring the 
  beverages to achieve unusual but very enjoyable 
  tastes. Everyone gets free drinkables unless they 
  want full-strength ales and spirits, but only those 
  who wore monster costumes get free food.
  Glarth: Eat to Bursting
  Colloquially known as Fullbelly, this is a day of 
  widespread at-home feasting. Flower-decorated 
  wagons are sent out from the palace in the morn-
  ing, piled high with smoked hams, loaves of 
  bread, sausages, smoked fish, tiny drawstring 
  bags filled with spices, and fruit. The wagons 
  head for the poorest streets of the city first, then 
  circulate until emptied. During their rounds, any 
  person can take any food from the passing wagons 
  that he or she can personally carry (perhaps aug-
  menting whatever food they already have), so that 
  none may know hunger on Glarth. Visitors to the 
  city and those who live alone are invited to dine 
  with families or at inns and taverns with other 
  solitary folk, but no loud entertainment or orga-
  nized revelry takes place. Typically everyone eats 
  too much and drowses in chairs and on beds and 
  couches into the evening, talking lazily of diverse 
  matters.
  Oamaurae: A Play’s the Thing
  After all the eating and drinking of the preced-
  ing day, few rise until after highsun on Oamaurae 
  (oh-more-ay). Traditionally, this is a day when 
  everyone goes out to see theater, whether at a 
  playhouse, an acting ground outside the walls, 
  an inn, tavern, or private home where hired per-
  formances are being presented, or simply a street 
  performance.
   
  On Oamaurae, new plays are presented for 
  the first time, new ballads-with-dance-and-
  mime tales are performed, and new drinks (often 
  fortified, doctored-with-herbs-and-spices wines 
  and sherries) are sold to see what will catch on.
   
  After enjoying performances and returning 
  home, members of households take time dur-
  ing the evening to read aloud stirring passages of 
  prose, or to recite ballads and heroic tales from 
  memory. Much rich dessert food is then con-
  sumed, before everyone goes to bed.
  Clearsight: Chart the Future
  The ninth festival day is a half-day of work, with 
  shops open only until highsun, followed by a day 
  of planning ahead on personal, household, and 
  professional levels.
   
  Everyone discusses politics and the wording 
  of any pacts to be renewed or new agreements 
  they’re involved in that are to be solemnized on 
  Shieldmeet. Shop owners talk to their employ-
  ees about the direction and aim of the business, 
  commoners hoist tankards at taverns and dis-
  cuss the latest news and “the way the world is 
  sailing,” and everyone from adventurers to fash-
  ion-setting clothiers makes plans for the seasons 
  ahead. The shop closures make possible meet-
  ing with investors and merchants to plan future 
  undertakings—and to persuade would-be busi-
  ness partners by wining and dining them—if, of 
  course, you can find the people you want to make 
  contact with, among all the to-ing and fro-ing 
  and glad-handing going on.
  Amalree’s Pleasure: Dance,  
  Flirt, and Wager
  Amalree was a spectacular, affectionate, and 
  much-loved dancer of Silverymoon who died 
  almost a century ago. In her honor, this day is 
  devoted to lighthearted dancing and flirtation. 
  Older folk, and those too injured or infirm to take 
  part, gather to sip wine, watch the fun unfold 
  around them, and play various elaborate board 
  games. In recent years, wagering on these games 
  has become very popular, and vast sums are won 
  and lost by the evening of “the Pleasure.”
  Midsummer: Love’s Night
  Midsummer night is the day of the Feast of Love. 
  No shops are open past highsun on Midsum-
  mer, and at highsun, small feasts (private meals) 
  begin, and public decadence follows. Many folk 
  don’t take part, and stay home in their shuttered 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  29
  
  rooms, but many more citizens wander, watch-
  ing or participating. Open doors are invitations to 
  all, priests cast curative spells against diseases for 
  free, risqué costumes and dalliance are common-
  place, and even staid old Silvaeren tell off-color 
  jokes or make frank, lewd remarks or compli-
  ments they’d never dream of daring to utter on 
  any other day. Of course, everyone is supposed to 
  forget everything that happened on Midsummer 
  after the next dawn. Alustriel leads a “Hunt of 
  Maidens,” which is actually a hunt for a specific 
  mask—or rather, the person wearing it—through 
  various gardens after the moon rises. Various 
  wealthy folk with large homes host parties at 
  which naughty games are held. Eating various 
  sweet desserts from the bodies of fellow revelers is 
  a favorite tradition at these parties. In more con-
  servative locales than Silverymoon, Midsummer 
  is the time when all families hold large and often 
  drunken feasts, and at which future couples pub-
  licly announce their attention to wed.
  Shieldmeet: Speaking Truth
  Celebrated the same way it is everywhere else in 
  the Realms, this special day is devoted to open 
  council between the rulers and the ruled, which 
  really means that commoners can sit down and 
  speak frankly with monarchs without being over-
  heard by courtiers and without fear of reprisal. 
  Monarchs are typically protected against attack 
  for the day with various protective magics that 
  mitigate the effects of missiles, particular sorts of 
  spells, and so on. Commoners can communicate 
  complaints and warnings, answer royal questions, 
  pass on gossip, and so on. Most rulers consider 
  Shieldmeet the most valuable and informative 
  day of their year, and often arrange to meet again 
  soon with particular informants.
   
  For rulers, guild members, merchants, masters 
  and apprentices, and others engaged in renting or 
  in transacting business, it’s also a day of renewing 
  agreements, which were often reviewed or drawn 
  up earlier, during Clearsight.
   
  It’s also a day of contests, trials-of-arms, duels, 
  contests-of-spells, and full-blown tournaments of 
  horse-and-lance, with attendant wagering. In Sil-
  verymoon, these events are rarely undertaken in 
  anger or to settle scores or legal disputes, though 
  they can be, if Taern or Alustriel agrees and if the 
  proceedings are overseen by Spellguard members. 
  Instead, these competitions serve as popular en-
  tertainment, with local merchants and wealthy 
  notables sponsoring prizes for victorious contes-
  tants. Taking part in such trials has also become a 
  very good way for adventurers and hedge wizards 
  seeking employment to attract the notice of po-
  tential patrons.
   
  Silvaeren temples and visiting priests provide 
  free healing magics and care to injured contes-
  tants, and the day ends with a “last revel” of plays 
  and bardic and minstrel performances in various 
  inns, taverns, clubs, and guild headquarters, at 
  which mead and other sweetened wines are sipped 
  and honeycakes and other pastries and candies 
  are consumed. Everyone is well aware that it’s 
  “back to the everyday trudge and drudge on the 
  morrow,” so wise celebrants take to bed early and 
  sober; foolish ones sing and carouse late into the 
  night—and take surly hangovers to the shop the 
  next day.
  The badge of the city of Zazesspur in Tethyr. It depicts Storm-
  dagger Keep, the fortified in-city home of the ruling Hhune ducal 
  family, but is not used by the Duke of Kamlann or his family.
  Chapter 1
  30
  RICK DRENNAN
  
  LEARNING THE 
  ROPES, AND MORE
  A lot of what passes for education in the Realms is 
  free (or almost so) for the asking. Anyone with a 
  coin or two can receive basic instruction in tasks 
  from local guilds (along the lines of “Don’t do 
  this, or you’ll blow yourself up; instead, call in the 
  guild!”).
   
  Local lore is often free for the asking from local 
  courtiers or civic scribes (“That property belongs 
  to Lhannath the miller, from the old dead felsul 
  down to the creek; formerly it belonged to the 
  weaver Rustragus, and before that . . . I have all 
  the dates here”).
   
  And priests of almost all faiths offer informa-
  tion about who the gods are, what their portfolios 
  and beliefs are, where their temples and current 
  civic projects are, and so on for free. This infor-
  mation from priests carries an emphasis on the 
  beneficial importance of the priest’s own faith, 
  but has little overtly lying propaganda, because in 
  the polytheistic Realms, it’s considered a sin by all 
  to deceive about any faith.
   
  Other sources of learning include high sages 
  (researchers, too expensive for most folk below 
  the wealthy merchant or guild level, and often 
  consulted by rulers and nobles) and low sages 
  (neighborhood shopkeepers who dispense small-
  scope information from their acquired knowledge 
  and personal libraries). The low sages’ experi-
  ential learning tends to be very good, but their 
  book learning often repeats the errors that are in 
  their books.
   
  Most commoners hire low sages to tutor their 
  children on specific matters, building on what 
  they can get for free from priests. Guilds some-
  times hire low sages to teach regular classes, or 
  write “chapbooks of learning” (short and simple 
  schoolbooks).
   
  The high sages, on the other hand, debate with 
  each other, write chapbooks that are sold to the 
  wider public, and sponsor adventurers to recover 
  lost books (or pay well for books brought to them 
  without forewarning).
   
  Large and influential guilds desiring to in-
  crease their influence over time often establish 
  tutors in more than just the work of the guild, 
  but these tend to be for members only. Some 
  guilds grow this arm of their staff into private 
  investigators (because they want to know what 
  rival guilds are up to, what courtiers are planning 
  or thinking about them, and so on), and said staff 
  often hire adventurers of discretion to handle the 
  more dangerous eavesdropping, kidnapping, spy-
  ing, and thieving assignments involved.
   
  Lastly, the level of common education var-
  ies greatly from place to place across Faerûn, 
  depending on the attitudes of local rulers. In 
  general, trading centers (such as Amn, Sembia, 
  and Waterdeep) want a literate populace that can 
  do basic arithmetic because such knowledge cuts 
  down on cheating, unrest, and theft, and pro-
  vides more customers with both coin and hunger 
  enough for wonders from afar.
   
  Commoners in lands with militias (such as 
  Cormyr) are trained and drilled in local geog-
  raphy, map reading, discipline, the local chain 
  of command, how to access local lords and their 
  staff, how to read and write, how to draw and in-
  terpret way-marker symbols, and so on. Purple 
  Dragons get posted all over the realm of Cor-
  myr, and so have a wider worldview and pick up 
  all sorts of local lore, such as the brands used by 
  local horse breeders, where specific sorts of cara-
  van goods come from, and so on. Since so many 
  folk across the Realms have done military or mi-
  litia service, most of the population has a shared 
  grounding in lore.
   
  Much common knowledge is built up locally 
  from gossip, rants, facts in chapbooks, and from 
  talking with traveling peddlers and caravans. In 
  addition, minstrels and caravan workers make 
  coin carrying or delivering messages, and telling 
  the news (sometimes colorful invented stories). 
  That’s why caravans are so socially important in 
  way-stop settlements like Shadowdale.
  Tutoring and Discipline
  Private tutors are much used among the nobil-
  ity and very wealthy who often want to have their 
  young disciplined without having to do such dis-
  tasteful work personally. The intent is for their 
  children to acquire all the results of a good acad-
  emy without “the rabble” (or worse, their social 
  rivals) knowing that their little Launsarra went 
  to Madame Theorla’s Peerless Academy of So-
  cial Quality. If Launsarra does turn up at such 
  a place, it means either her family is too impov-
  erished to hire a good tutor, or more likely, that 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  31
  
  Launsarra beats and terrorizes tutors, or even 
  poisons them or pushes them off balconies, when 
  her temper gets the better of her.
   
  Such tutors are often aging relatives, hired 
  clergy of impressive character (either wander-
  ing priests, or clergy from a local temple, who are 
  expected to extend their temple influence to the 
  family they are employed by), high sages in need 
  of housing and income, infirm or elderly experts 
  taken on as house servants, impoverished or ex-
  iled outland nobility, and—for weapons training 
  and discipline—retired military officers.
   
  Informal tutoring—augmented by temple 
  instruction—is the norm in rural areas across 
  Faerûn, and teaches local children basic arithme-
  tic, local laws and customs, and “simple letters” 
  (reading and writing enough to handle basic road 
  and market signs).
  Schools and Academies
  Bards, heralds, and various faiths (particularly 
  monastic orders) set up organized schools, but 
  the vast majority of these are in large cities (such 
  as Waterdeep and Silverymoon), and of these 
  urban schools, the majority are “academies.” 
  Such places in the Realms function as what we 
  could call “finishing schools”—that is, although 
  they impart lore, their primary purpose is to teach 
  etiquette, deportment, an accent, fashion cor-
  rectness, a worldview, and so on, to aid in social 
  climbing or success.
   
  Such schools are usually created by glib, liter-
  ate individuals. In particular, these individuals 
  are often down-on-their-luck longtime profes-
  sional servants or minor nobles; what Sword Coast 
  speech calls the “fifth, sixth, and seventh sisters” 
  or “idle aunts” and “idle old uncles.” Sometimes, 
  however, they have a particular skill, such as play-
  ing a musical instrument, singing, or fencing.
   
  These individuals set themselves up, usually in 
  upper rooms somewhere (in Waterdeep, mainly 
  in Castle Ward or South Ward; in Silverymoon, 
  mainly in the westernmost streets of the city), to 
  teach or provide practice sessions in return for 
  pay. There are always a few mock academies that 
  are really houses of pleasure or private drinking 
  clubs for young wastrel nobles (which usually last 
  only until uncovered in public scandals), but most 
  academies are quite real and never rise above the 
  level of struggling tutors.
   
  A few, however, have the resources or charis-
  matic staff or connections to establish themselves 
  as refined. Many of these are in Waterdeep and 
  Silverymoon because both cities have some social 
  mobility within classes (coin can buy you status) 
  as well as an ambitious, rising upper middle class 
  that aspires to nobility or at least the trappings of 
  nobility. These clients enrich exclusive academies, 
  so the academies can expand, gaining more of the 
  luxurious appointments that enable them to hold 
  revels, recitals, and demonstrations. These pub-
  lic events attract social interest and more clients, 
  allowing them to hire more staff, purchase prop-
  erties to gain rental income, and expand again.
   
  Wealthy or noble patrons sometimes sponsor 
  existing academies in return for the right to use 
  them on rare occasions as private armies or agents 
  (spy on this rival for me, rough up that man as 
  he leaves yonder tavern, buy up all the barley you 
  can find on the morrow).
   
  However, the vast majority of academies are 
  comfortable little establishments, such as three 
  widows sharing a house and instructing young 
  ladies on sewing, good manners, and how to act 
  as a hostess (serving wine, directing servants at 
  table, and the art of small talk). They will have a 
  door guard, one or more maids, and a regular cli-
  entele (akin to a modern real-world dentist).
  Centers of Training
  Here are a handful of currently popular acad-
  emies across the Realms.
  Waterdeep
  Mother Tamra’s House of Graces (Mendever 
  Street, Castle Ward)
   
  Clientele: Young ladies of ambitious families, 
  being taught how to wash and groom themselves, 
  how to develop a fashion sense and how to keep 
  a wardrobe looking fresh (including washing and 
  sewing for repairs), etiquette and carriage (how to 
  walk, sit, and hold one’s hands), how to write polite 
  messages, how to politely and with dignity encour-
  age or discourage social entreaties, dancing, and 
  the right thing to say in difficult situations.
   
  Secret Clientele: Men who need to impersonate 
  women, and nobles about to appear in drag at a 
  revel, who desire to learn how to look and act like 
  a lady of quality.
  Chapter 1
  32
  
  Tartel’s House of the Sword (Seawatch 
  Street, Sea Ward)
   
  Clientele: Persons desiring to learn how to fence 
  or defend themselves with or against a light long-
  sword or smaller blade, and a dagger.
   
  Secret Clientele: Young nobles desiring to learn 
  how to duel and to meet young ladies for amo-
  rous purposes. Tartel encourages young and 
  beautiful women to become clients by offering 
  them half rates.
  Corondorr’s Countinghouse (Aveen Street, 
  North Ward)
   
  Clientele: Young guild members and unguilded 
  shopkeepers desiring to learn number skills and 
  “how business is really practiced” from a cyni-
  cal, veteran clerk-of-coin retired from Piergeiron’s 
  palace.
   
  Secret Clientele: Swindlers who want to learn all 
  about dodges, and what clerks like the sarcastic 
  old Corondorr are alert for when business is done 
  in Waterdeep.
  Silverymoon
  Tantathra’s (Stormwind Alley)
   
  Clientele: Folk who want to learn to sing or play 
  simple airs on stringed instruments, or at least 
  learn lyrics to popular songs.
   
  Not-So-Secret Clientele: Amateur musi-
  cians; individuals looking to recruit amateur 
  musicians for a revel, a feast, or other enter-
  tainment event such as a shop opening or a 
  celebration; and folk who love a regular musical 
  get-together.
   
  Secret Clientele: Romantic folk looking for 
  lovers.
   
  Sideline: Tantathra sells teas, wine, ale, replace-
  ment strings, lyric sheets, and instruments to 
  clients.
  The Risen Moon Academy (Alander’s Lane)
   
  Clientele: Folk who want to learn how to dance 
  and fence.
   
  Secret Clientele: Persons desiring to pay for 
  company from the beautiful female instructors 
  employed by the proprietress (a one-eyed retired 
  adventurer by the name of Amratha “Redtresses” 
  Dalree).
  Neverwinter
  The Starshine Academy (Blackule Lane)
   
  Clientele: Those who desire to appreciate—and 
  paint their own—art; acquire herb lore; be able 
  to live off the land; and to know wild animals by 
  scent, sound, and spoor.
   
  Secret Clientele: Those desiring to make potions 
  that induce sleep, freedom from pain, heightened 
  sensations, lust, and calm.
   
  Sideline: The tutors sell paintings, herbs, reci-
  pes, animal-track-reference drawings, and potions. 
  (Some, it is correctly rumored, even vend poisons.)
  Suzail
  Mathulk’s House (Taumurt’s Lane)
   
  Clientele: Men from all walks of life (both mas-
  ters and servants), desiring to learn how to dress, 
  maintain a wardrobe, walk and dance with dig-
  nity, and the proper things to say and do in most 
  social situations.
   
  Secret Clientele: Women wanting to pretend to be 
  a man for a revel, or women needing to fool others 
  into thinking them male for more serious purposes.
  Baldur’s Gate
  Garmult’s House of Mastery (Longwind 
  Lane)
   
  Clientele: All who desire to learn the laws and 
  ways of business up and down the Sword Coast, 
  and the “untold truths” of who dominates various 
  fields of commerce and “how things really work.”
   
  Secret Clientele: Those desiring to invest in 
  shady shipping enterprises by land and sea, such 
  as smuggling and sponsoring piracy. The propri-
  etor, the retired sea captain and active fleet owner 
  Darbrand Garmult, is both a smuggler and an 
  outfitter and fence for pirates.
  Athkatla
  Rezunder’s Academy of the Coin 
  (Methquem’s Way)
   
  Clientele: Investors, speculators, and shopkeep-
  ers interested in learning Amn’s ways of doing 
  business, how to make and maintain a reputation 
  in trade, good bets for investing, and financial 
  foes and pitfalls to watch for.
   
  Secret Clientele: Those willing to join the Purl-
  rend, Ardrult Rezunder’s secret investing cabal, 
  by either contributing funds or doing shady deal-
  ings on behalf of the cabal.
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  33
  
  ACTING AND THE 
  THEATER
  Minstrels and bards have always memorized 
  crucial scenes from “the classics” (old plays) 
  to perform in their travels alongside music and 
  dramatic recitations of poems. These audience 
  favorites are the dramatic confrontations between 
  legendary heroes and dragons, rulers and usurp-
  ers about to slay them, wise old men and young 
  reckless fools, and those falling in love.
   
  Carters and merchants also have a long his-
  tory of earning extra coin as they travel by doing 
  mimicry of well-known figures (Vangerdahast, 
  for instance, in the Dragon Reach). They also 
  put on the equivalent of Punch-and-Judy shows, 
  which in the Realms are done by putting footwear 
  over both hands, then a shawl or other cloth over 
  one’s head to serve as a backdrop, and using the 
  upturned boots as the heads of comic characters. 
  These shows are known as Oldboots or, when folk 
  printing handbills in larger cities are being pre-
  cious, Talking Toes shows.
   
  Traveling companies of players are summer-
  time features of the Heartlands, the Moonshaes, 
  Amn, Tethyr, Aglarond, and the Vilhon. Perform-
  ers often play roles of the other gender (in both 
  directions), usually for comedic purposes.
   
  In Faerûn, some actors travel constantly with 
  goods caravans. These performers often make 
  extra coin selling, making, and modifying cloth-
  ing for buyers at the various places where they 
  appear. For example, an actor might perform in a 
  small village, present a stunningly beautiful gown 
  on a lady character, and then let it be known after 
  the show that similar garments can be bought. 
  Then, all the actor has to do is wait for the local 
  ladies (or men looking for a gift) to demand them.
   
  Acting isn’t a disreputable profession except 
  in places where traveling companies in the past 
  have practiced thievery with heavy hands. Many 
  temples have small morality plays that are never 
  seen outside their sacred precincts (and are 
  supposed to be kept secret from all who aren’t 
  deeply and loyally devout). Audiences expect ac-
  tors to ad-lib or add new jests and mockeries to 
  certain comedy plays.
  Unusual Performance Styles
  In Calimshan and Chessenta, traditional theater 
  features an on-stage chanting chorus and over-
  sized caricature masks mounted on sticks that all 
  actors use to cover their faces. The style probably 
  migrated from Calimshan to Chessenta centuries 
  back, since very different plays are performed in 
  the two regions; only the masks and choruses are 
  common to both. This theatrical style is known 
  in Calimshan as malakram, and in Chessenta 
  as masqueladra. It is from this Chessentan term 
  that Cormyr and other lands around the Sea of 
  Fallen Stars get the term “masquerades” for their 
  masked balls and revels.
   
  In Neverwinter, many local plays are built 
  around a central trio of harpists. These harpists 
  literally sit center stage for most of a performance, 
  but occasionally walk on or off in unison to mark 
  passages of time, such as a season or some period 
  of years. Throughout the play, they harp, com-
  ment to the audience on the action of the play 
  without being a part of it, and wear no costumes.
   
  In the Sword Coast lands from about Wa-
  terdeep south to Amn, many “crafty country 
  bumpkin” plays are staged, built around a gruff, 
  limping character called Old Duiwin (doo-win) 
  and constantly updated with new jokes and snide 
  political commentary. These traditions don’t 
  seem to have formal names—they’re just “the 
  good old plays” to locals, as opposed to strange 
  new productions brought from afar.
   
  Many Sword Coast cities from the Tashalar 
  north to Waterdeep continue to celebrate a tradi-
  tion of tableaux in festivals and the revels of the 
  wealthy. Tableaux is a play in which scene after 
  scene of motionless actors is revealed, to the ac-
  companiment of stirring music. The actors are 
  usually provocatively clad women, often frozen 
  in scenes that purport to depict important his-
  torical events. These are often known as marvel 
  masques, but sometimes as grandiques, fresstel, 
  or allbeholdings.
   
  Recently in Sembia, a new tradition has gained 
  popularity in the most exclusive clubs and in 
  the private revels of the wealthiest: silent re-
  enactments of murders or hunts, the latter often 
  involving actors with their skins painted to mimic 
  the appearance of the beasts being hunted. When 
  these silent plays are performed in club settings, 
  sometimes the portrayers of the painted beasts are 
  Chapter 1
  34
  
  “Secrets of the Sages” was a free newsletter produced in 1987, consisting of collections of my root Realmslore (maps, sketches, and back-
  ground information). David Martin edited three issues, but only the first was ever printed. “Secrets” was seen as a vehicle for teasers, to find 
  out which Realms elements the clamor would be loudest for more of, and for publishing errata. This was my way of trying to turn some-
  thing to be embarrassed about into something fun that would bring us all closer. You should hear Elminster when he goes on about Volo!
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  35
  
  hired to drum up business. Some monster-playing 
  performers are doppelgangers who are very well 
  paid to appear as humans with webbed hands 
  or feet, tails, illithid tentacles, or the like. They 
  are under strict contract not to harm patrons—
  though of course no such restrictions apply to 
  nonpatrons who happen to come within reach of 
  such creatures outside the club.
  Traveling Troupes
  A medium-sized traveling troupe of performers 
  is some sixty to eighty people, some of whom are 
  bouncers and coin-takers and makeup folk, and a 
  large troupe is more than eighty strong, topping 
  out at around one hundred forty persons for prac-
  tical reasons. Smaller troupes of both varieties 
  are far more numerous, with most troupes in the 
  mid-forties in total strength, and larger ones in 
  the mid-sixties.
   
  Aside from the obvious acrobatic acts and 
  acting performances, a troupe’s attractions can 
  include wrestling (both genders, against those of 
  same gender), monster-taming acts, jesters, jug-
  glers, fortune tellers, and sellers of confections 
  and “luck pieces” who tell amusing or scary tales. 
  Most troupes also offer services: They check 
  coins for value and authenticity, appraise items 
  brought to them, provide names of and direc-
  tions to experts on various matters (sometimes 
  even furnishing letters of invitation or passwords), 
  and examine contracts and agreements to explain 
  them fully to the illiterate or bewildered.
   
  Troupes might also offer more shady assis-
  tance, such as help with disguises and providing 
  doubles, or sending out “set things to rights” 
  teams to aid the poor, the weak, or those simply 
  outnumbered or overmatched. In particular, they 
  furnish this service to those facing a wealthier 
  or more numerous foe who has advantages over 
  them, such as their guildmaster or the head of the 
  local Watch.
   
  Harpers and members of other secretive groups 
  and cabals often join traveling acting troupes 
  as a means of remaining “unseen among the 
  many” while moving around the Realms. This 
  way they can make covert contact with others in 
  their group along the way. In such secretive meet-
  ings, they pass on and receive payments, funds, 
  and small items (such as keys, tools, rare magical 
  ingredients, and contraband); impart everyday 
  advice as to who and what to watch out for (a 
  Harper posing as a fortune teller would pass this 
  information on as part of her spiel), and dispense 
  medicines or poison antidotes or daggers.
   
  A troupe disbands every winter, either in a city 
  or somewhere warm enough for inhabitants not 
  to have to worry about freezing to death, fighting 
  off wolves, or having no green growing things to 
  eat. Waterdeep is as northerly a site as an acting 
  troupe would voluntarily end up at a tour’s end; 
  beyond its walls, and south as far as Amn, is the 
  cold, snow-swept, orc-raided, monster-roamed 
  North. But only the wealthiest performers can af-
  ford to winter in friendly-to-artistes Silverymoon 
  or Everlund, and the high cost of daily living 
  makes most actors shun Waterdeep, too, with the 
  exception of those who can “stay on the cheap” 
  with family, or work at a winter job, usually craft-
  ing of some kind.
   
  Traveling troupes are far more likely to winter 
  in southern Tethyr, the Vilhon, and more south-
  erly areas, near Innarlith, for example, or in the 
  Border Kingdoms, or down in Luiren. Cormyr is 
  “law and order” safe enough, but has a harsh win-
  ter climate—and most traveling performers will 
  by nature mistrust the surveillance the War Wiz-
  ards are said to perform on everyone and every 
  place in the Forest Kingdom.
   
  Acrobatic entertainers need warm weather, 
  cheap food and accommodations, and relative 
  safety so they can keep their muscles relaxed as 
  they practice, readily recuperate from injuries 
  suffered on the road, and live cheaply and eas-
  ily. That need usually means dwelling on farms, 
  villages, and hamlets in lush, warm, lightly (or 
  fairly) ruled areas.
  The Famous Seven
  Actors, enthusiasts, and sages can argue end-
  lessly over the best, the most influential, and even 
  the most popular plays performed in the Heart-
  lands, but throughout the 1300s DR and well 
  into the 1400s DR, seven plays were most often 
  performed. They were agreed upon by widely 
  traveled Harpers before High Lady Alustriel of 
  Silverymoon listed them in 1344 DR, and are de-
  scribed here in the order of the years when each 
  play was first performed:
   
  Bellagar the Black Dragon by Orstyn Scar-
  adarr of Scornubel, 1242 DR. A stirring 
  Chapter 1
  36
  
  adventure in which simple village folk slay a fell 
  wyrm who lairs in their midst, after armies and 
  adventurers flee.
   
  King Helcantur the Doomed by Awnagur Hertrel 
  of Athkatla, 1266 DR. The moral tale of how a 
  hated, cruel tyrant is brought down by his suffer-
  ing court.
   
  Rorold the Lusty by Anonymous, 1297 DR. A 
  slapstick, pratfall comedy about the misadven-
  tures of a gruff dwarf made irresistible to human 
  women thanks to a mischievous elf mage’s spell.
   
  Five Fallen Thrones by Ammathra Longalar of 
  Waterdeep, 1299 DR. An inspiring semi-comedy 
  wherein the ghosts of the last kings of five van-
  ished realms haunt young seekers of fortune, 
  driving them to overthrow an evil lord.
   
  Aballar the Mighty by Nareth Quorl of Never-
  winter, 1306 DR. A comedy about a timid man 
  consistently misunderstood as a hero, who is 
  pushed into becoming one and rescuing a prin-
  cess—who is then delighted to find that he is 
  timid and easily ruled.
   
  Seven Swords Snarlclash by Imbaerla Nardragon 
  of Saerloon, 1312 DR. The bloody “god’s justice” 
  account of how seven overambitious adventurers 
  seek the same treasure, the fabled hoard of Snarl-
  clash the dragon, and butcher each other to win 
  it, until only the female slaves of two of them are 
  left alive to claim the riches.
   
  Harl the Serpent by Anonymous, 1322 DR. A 
  dark comedy about a stylish but despicable wom-
  anizing villain who is finally brought down.
  MEDICINE
  The level and extent of medical knowledge varies 
  widely across the Realms, but it is highest among 
  the nonhuman common races, because tending 
  humans has become for many of them a way of 
  gaining long-term acceptance in human-dom-
  inated communities. Herbal lore (about which 
  see more below) is predominant among such 
  practitioners, coupled with “potions” (herbal con-
  coctions, not magic) that are effective in dealing 
  with minor diseases, allergic reactions, and shock. 
  The organs of all humanoid races are known, as 
  well as the general functioning of the body (hence 
  what shock is, and how to treat it), the function of 
  blood, and the importance of cleanliness to recov-
  ering from wounds. Concocted, expensive bottled 
  medicines, called “physics,” are generally hard to 
  find and priced accordingly; to most rural folk in 
  the Realms, herbs are the basis of what they use 
  for daily medicine.
   
  In the Realms, almost everyone understands 
  that ill or wounded people need rest, to be cov-
  ered by a blanket or at least kept out of full sun; 
  that moving or rough handling will do greater 
  harm; and that people should be given much to 
  drink (even in cases where we moderns would say, 
  “No, not even if he is complaining of thirst should 
  Thrudd be given water or something stronger, 
  because he’s hurt inside!”). Stretchers and slings 
  are commonly used, and when a stretcher can’t 
  be found, injured who must be carried are usually 
  lashed to felled tree trunks and borne along be-
  tween the shoulders of two strong carriers.
   
  Scarring as an aftereffect of injuries is com-
  mon, because cauterization is a well-known 
  procedure. Herbal painkillers (usually liquids that 
  are brewed and drunk, but also liquids drizzled 
  into wounds) are widely used, especially before 
  someone is sewn up.
   
  Splinting is common, many beings are experts 
  at neatly sewing flesh, and the importance of 
  using flame or alcohol (not together!) to prevent 
  infections related to piercing injuries and large 
  gashes is widely understood.
  Herbal Lore
  Everyone—from farmers to foresters to shopkeep-
  ers—knows a few old family remedies, and almost 
  every rural place not in the remote wilderness 
  has an herbalist or two. A village on a trade route 
  might have an apothecary, and almost all mar-
  ket towns have one—as well as a “hedge wizard” 
  (self-taught mage of low Art) who augments his or 
  her income by splinting breaks, washing infected 
  wounds, and selling beneficial castings, salves, 
  and the like.
   
  If a village not on a trade route has a shrine 
  (as opposed to just a priest or hermit), the priest 
  who tends the shrine often functions as an apoth-
  ecary to earn an income. If a shrine has two or 
  three staffers, even if only one of them is a proper 
  priest, an apothecary is likely to be on that staff.
   
  Apothecaries prepare and sell physics, but 
  also sell raw and “readied” (washed, cut, and 
  sometimes powdered) herbs for kitchens and for 
  medicinal use. Many festhalls and herbalists offer 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  37
  
  inexpensive herb bath or steam bath services, 
  which always include a rubdown (deep tissue 
  massage). Many travelers and street-dwelling poor 
  use these services regularly to get clean, get their 
  clothes washed, to get warm, and to have aches 
  and pains seen to. For some, it’s what makes their 
  lives (of having little, and being in contact with 
  folk who have so much more) bearable. So the ap-
  plication of heat and skilled massage part of what 
  real-world chiropractors do is in part covered 
  by these relatively inexpensive services, usually 
  1 cp for a bath or a massage, and 2 cp for both 
  with washing and “ovenboard” drying thrown 
  in. Ovenboard drying is laying wet clothing out 
  flat on boards heated by proximity to an oven or 
  hearth or chimney to rapidly dry them. Clothes 
  being ovenboarded are moved to new dry hot sur-
  faces several times to speed the process.
   
  Relatively few sages specialize in herb lore, 
  but there are some self-styled academic authori-
  ties among humans. In Cormyr, the Guild of 
  Naturalists has offices in Suzail and Arabel. It 
  is a professional fellowship of those who study 
  animal and plant life with the aims of understand-
  ing natural cycles fully and thereby exploiting 
  natural substances—from plant saps and distil-
  lates to beast ichor and organs—to make scents, 
  medicines, poisons, spell inks, dyes, sealants, 
  preservatives, cooking herbs, and so on. A Cor-
  myrean consulting a guild member is expected to 
  buy guild products, but guild members will sell 
  advice as well as concoctions to outlanders—and 
  will buy raw herbs in good condition from anyone.
   
  Here follow some widely known effective me-
  dicinal uses of raw plant gleanings. Herbs often 
  do not need to be fresh, which is why many 
  households keep a crock of various dried leaves, 
  wrapped in scrap cloth, for use in winter Please 
  note: None of these plants exist in the real world.
  Bloodpurge
  Found in the depths of freshwater marshes pol-
  luted by magical and nonmagical wastes, this herb 
  can neutralize minor poisons.
  Bloodstaunch
  Found in dry gullies in semiarid temperate zones, 
  this herb thickens blood very quickly upon direct 
  contact, and so can be applied to open wounds to 
  slow or stop bleeding.
  Fleshwort
  Made from the stalk of a gray, celery-like vegeta-
  ble, fleshwort is found only on recent battlefields, 
  where corpses are buried near the surface or left to 
  rot above ground. If sewn into an internal wound, 
  fleshwort is slowly absorbed by any mammalian 
  body as raw material for building new tissue.
  Felsul Tree
  Chewing the soft wood that directly underlies the 
  bark of a felsul tree, or chewing small datherthorn 
  roots (those of purplish hue) quells nausea and 
  deadens all mouth, tooth, and throat pain. This 
  does nothing to remove the cause of the discom-
  fort; it merely temporarily removes the discomfort 
  to allow sleep, hearty eating, and other usual ac-
  tivities. Eating a volume roughly as much as the 
  eater’s palm, as thick as the eater’s hand, will 
  deaden for a day and a night, or so.
  Harlthorn
  Drinking the liquid derived from boiling down 
  equal parts of the thorns from harlthorn bushes 
  (a common Heartlands wild shrub) with dried or 
  fresh leaves of the very common weed known as 
  hoof-leaf (because its flat, on-the-ground leaves 
  look like the print of a cloven-hoofed herd animal) 
  calms delirium, rage, and grief, and soothes itchi-
  ness and skin rashes, allowing for rest or sleep.
  Tatterskyre
  Eating small flakes of tatterskyre bark slows 
  bleeding (internal and external) and thickens the 
  blood, soothing agitated folk and making them 
  drowsy. This herb can aid the healing of many 
  sorts of internal wounds.
   
  Orcs and all goblinkin (goblins, hobgoblins, and 
  such) are especially susceptible to the effects of tat-
  terskyre bark, and typically fall asleep if given as 
  much to eat as would cover their palms. Since this is 
  a sleep typically filled with pleasant dreams, many 
  orcs gather and carry the bark and eat it regularly.
   
  The tatterskyre is a gnarled shrub that tends 
  to form loops or drooping arcs like wild rasp-
  berry canes, rerooting when it touches the ground 
  only to throw up fresh stems. It grows all over 
  the Heartlands and the North, is smaller in 
  colder climes, and its bark is very flaky and easily 
  brushed off; its foliage sprouts as bursts of needle-
  like flat leaves all up and down its stems.
  Chapter 1
  38
  
  Dathlil
  The tiny petals of the common white ground 
  flower known as dathlil work to neutralize poi-
  sons for some who consume them, typically by 
  drinking them as a tea, or washing them down 
  with water or alcohol. The effects vary widely 
  with the individual and the poison being fought 
  against, and even vary unpredictably for the same 
  individual over time, but do apply to all known 
  creatures and are sometimes (not often) com-
  plete cures—one petal banishes all poison effects. 
  Dathlil can work on contact, ingested, and in-
  sinuative poisons—but it sometimes does nothing 
  at all. For most individuals, the herb usually slows 
  poison and lessens its eventual damage.
  Tonandurr Bark
  Bound against open wounds, tonandurr bark 
  inhibits bleeding and infection, and helps skin 
  and flesh to heal by helping it expand and knit 
  together. This substance works on humans, hal-
  flings, dwarves, and gnomes only; elves it helps 
  not at all; and it actually harms goblinkin, mak-
  ing their wounds fester. “Tonandurr” is a tall, 
  spindly “weed tree” of the Heartlands and more 
  southerly forests; it’s not hardy enough to survive 
  winters much north of Waterdeep, though a few 
  specimens are kept alive in indoor gardens in Sil-
  verymoon and Neverwinter.
  Blood of the Dragon
  Down the centuries, dragon blood has always 
  been a highly sought after, very expensive medi-
  cine among those who can afford it. Dragon 
  blood is widely believed to impart the longevity 
  and vigor of the mighty wyrms. Some individuals 
  even use it to try to become half dragons, usu-
  ally by means of the would-be dragon opening his 
  or her veins and immersing the bleeding limb in 
  dragon blood—though there is no evidence that 
  Though an illness might not be fatal, the misapplication of herbal medicine can often produce worse results than if the affliction had gone 
  untreated. There’s a lot to be said for healing magic, which does not have the risks of concocted cures, and a lot of priests who do the saying.
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  39
  RANDY GALLEGOS
  
  this process works without the use of a long series 
  of powerful spells, cast with exacting precision 
  and care.
   
  So, dragon blood is thought of as “liquid gold” 
  and is bought and sold for very high prices. In 
  Calimshan, dragon blood is believed to be inky 
  black with gold flecks in it, and anything look-
  ing different will be dismissed as false, but those 
  who have fought or slain dragons know that real 
  dragon ichor varies widely in hue, consistency, 
  and smell, the only common property being that 
  it is smoking hot when freshly shed, due to the 
  heat generated by a dragon’s metabolism.
  ILLNESS AND 
  HYGIENE
  Most civilized people in the Realms know that 
  disease transference works “something like this 
  for shaking fever, like that for blacktongue,” and 
  so on. They disagree on treatments—aside from 
  rest, care, bathing and purgatives, and the care-
  ful feeding of observed specifics—and tend to 
  use what they remember worked for them and 
  their friends in the past. The reasons for these 
  disagreements are the various churches, most 
  of which are striving to maintain influence and 
  control (and a continuing flow of coins for heal-
  ing) by way of having the lower ranks unwittingly 
  spread misinformation as to exactly how this or 
  that disease is best treated. As happens with real-
  world doctors, the resulting differences of opinion 
  can lead to heated professional conflicts.
   
  The “bad hygiene” of the Realms means 
  that people wash their hair every four days or 
  so and again before special occasions, and that 
  they bathe “smelly areas” every night if possible. 
  People do not have not reeking, filthy bodies; 
  “unwashed peasants” is not a Realms norm.
   
  Persons desiring to make a good impression 
  who can’t get a chance to bathe properly will work 
  scented oils into their hair and rub scented oils 
  on their bodies to change their strong odor into 
  something less unpleasant.
  Known Afflictions
  There are many wasting and rotting afflictions, 
  cankers, and the mental illnesses of paranoia, py-
  romania, and delusions that haven’t yet acquired 
  Realms-wide names. However, here are a few of 
  the known afflictions.
   
  Fevers: Blacklung fever, blacktongue, marsh 
  fever, shaking fever, windchill fever (pneumonia)
   
  Diseases: Darkrot, “foamjaws” (rabies), “sal-
  lar” (typhus), “whitewasting” (leprosy)
   
  Plagues: Featherlung, the spotted plague, the 
  shaking plague (most recently in Scardale)
   
  Magical Diseases: Lycanthropy, “mummy 
  rot” (flesh rot), green rot/scaly death (courtesy of 
  the goddess of disease, Talona)
   
  Heartstop (heart attack)
  Plagues: Disease Gone Wild
  Plagues have risen repeatedly in various areas 
  over the centuries, each onslaught usually killing 
  about four in ten people, making another three in 
  ten very sick, and doing nothing at all to the last 
  three in ten. People might well flee “plague-hit” 
  areas, but it’s almost unknown for the disease it-
  self to exterminate everyone in a community or 
  even a household. Various remedies are cham-
  pioned, but no one really knows what causes 
  the plagues or how to cure them, though heal-
  ing magic is effective against all of them, if the 
  magic is strong enough and applied early enough. 
  Because of how little is known, the afflicted are 
  usually shunned, being thought (correctly) to be 
  incredibly infectious.
  Featherlung
  Drying out the lungs and making people wheeze 
  loudly, featherlung saps the strength of people 
  as they struggle for air. The afflicted can gasp 
  all they want, but even if someone pushes a vic-
  tim’s chest in and then lifts the person to force 
  breath out, repeatedly, no victim can get enough 
  oxygen from his or her own breathing to stay vi-
  brant or even keep one’s balance. Most victims 
  soon drift in and out of consciousness and just lie 
  there, helpless. Death can take a tenday or more, 
  and during that time victims are unable to de-
  fend themselves against scavengers, predators, or 
  frightened persons, and can readily be slain. If 
  victims are too weak to reach water, they often die 
  of thirst before the plague takes them.
  Spotted Plague
  Thick clusters of swollen, pus-filled skin erup-
  tions, called either “spots” or “the festers,” define 
  Chapter 1
  40
  
  the spotted plague. These eventually break, 
  leaving permanent pockmarks that resemble 
  real-world smallpox. Inside, the body is awash 
  in infections, and the victim reeks as many cells 
  literally rot. Balance, reasoning, and vision are 
  usually affected, causing lurching, disorientation, 
  and “swimming” sight, and the sense of smell 
  is always lost—usually permanently. Sometimes 
  hearing is affected, but never permanently. Spot-
  ted plague causes a shivering, raging fever, and 
  often kills in half a day to a day; those who live 
  more than two nights will almost always survive, 
  though they might be very sick for four to six days 
  more, and weak for a month. Survivors have per-
  manent pockmarks, no sense of smell, and other 
  long-lasting effects.
  Shaking Plague
  This plague is associated with Scardale nowadays 
  because that’s where it most recently struck (in 
  the mid-1300s DR). It causes victims to go very 
  pale, to sweat profusely (so they need water, and 
  lots of it, for the first day or so of illness, after 
  which the sweating stops), and to shake, help-
  lessly, spasmodically, and continuously. This 
  shaking hampers balance and movement and 
  makes writing—or any activity requiring fine 
  motor skills, such as sewing or locksmithing or 
  most craft-work—impossible. When not fatal, the 
  shaking plague lasts for two tendays, whereupon a 
  sudden recovery will occur, usually with no after-
  effects except a tendency to go pale and shake 
  when greatly agitated or in great pain. When fatal, 
  the plague usually claims its victim in seven to 
  ten days by way of heart seizures and lung spasms 
  that starve the body while it undergoes twisting, 
  arching, and pain-wracked writhing.
  DRUGS
  In the Realms, a drug is something—usually liq-
  uid, taken orally—whose making is complicated 
  and unknown to whoever is using the word. In 
  other words, the liquid made by boiling harl-
  thorn and hoof-leaf together, as described earlier 
  in “Herbal Lore,” would be a drug if its manu-
  facture wasn’t so widely known. Most drugs are 
  secret-recipe mixtures of herbal distillations, 
  plant saps, and animal secretions, all of which 
  have no real-world inspirations or counterparts.
   
  Local laws often restrict making and import-
  ing of drugs, because bad things have happened 
  in the past. Since alchemy, doctoring, and the like 
  all approve of using herbal and created substances 
  to help the sick or injured, and most clergy use 
  mind-altering or pain-numbing herbs and drugs 
  as part of their rituals, drugs are seen as bad only 
  when they are clearly intended to be used to in-
  capacitate someone so that person can be killed, 
  robbed, kidnapped, made to sign or say things he 
  or she otherwise wouldn’t, or in some other way 
  taken advantage of. Poisons are always seen as 
  bad except when used with state sanction in war, 
  or by physicians as part of medical treatment—
  and this latter use is usually very closely watched 
  by local law keepers and guilds.
   
  Waterdeep provides a model to use for toler-
  ant trading cities where local rulers or dominant 
  temples aren’t trying to control drug use.
   
  The drug trade in Waterdeep is largely con-
  fined to Skullport and Downshadow, in terms 
  of dealing and in the storage of large amounts. 
  “Topside” (in the city proper) there is no drug 
  production, only runner-to-client selling. Sell-
  ing is done face to face, but some nobles send 
  their stewards, bodyguards, or trade agents to buy 
  drugs. These so-called “runners” tend to be lone 
  individuals or gangs of no more than three, a run-
  ner and two “watcheyes” (lookouts) who are often 
  young children, preferably girls, who serve the 
  runner as eyes and as places to stash drugs if the 
  Watch approaches—because Watch officers are 
  far more reluctant to search a young girl’s body 
  than that of a hard-bitten, known-to-them Dock 
  Ward tough.
   
  A Lords’ Edict was long ago issued banning 
  the making and selling of drugs in Waterdeep—
  so the relevant crime is Willful Disobedience of 
  Any Edict, which results in exile for five years 
  or a 1,000 gp fine. The former is enacted on all 
  outlanders and those who do not own property, 
  and the latter against all Waterdhavian land-
  owning citizens—who will find themselves very 
  closely watched for a month, then again in the 
  third month thereafter, because the Watch wants 
  to catch and fine them again. It’s not a crime to 
  use drugs, nor is it a crime, strictly speaking, to 
  possess them. In practice, nobles and wealthy 
  merchants receive nothing but a stern “We’re 
  watching you” warning if caught with either 
  small or large amounts of drugs, but a commoner 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  41
  
  merchant or laborer is assumed to have the drugs 
  to sell, and will be sentenced accordingly, unless 
  the individual is a member of the Guild of Apoth-
  ecaries & Physicians or can prove he or she is 
  working directly for a guild member.
   
  Aside from those exceptions, drugs that can 
  readily be used to kill—even if only through 
  overdoses—can, if the Watch or the magisters 
  involved desire it, be treated as poisons, and ar-
  rested beings are charged with murder even 
  though no killing has yet occurred. Waterdha-
  vian justice has no attempted or intended murder 
  charges, so what occurs is a murder trial, usually 
  ending in a sentencing for “Murder with Justifica-
  tion,” which brings a five-year exile or three years 
  of enforced hard labor.
   
  Drug making is secretive and a matter of con-
  stant experimentation, so there are thousands of 
  drugs that go by even more names, enough to fill 
  shelves full of books as big as this one. Here fol-
  low just a notorious, popular handful.
  Alindluth
  When ingested, alindluth deadens all pain and 
  prevents shock and nausea effects for a few min-
  utes. There are no known side effects, but if the 
  substance is used too soon after first exposure (or 
  in too large a dose; dosages vary by body volume 
  and weight), it induces a short-duration coma.
  Chaunsel
  Upon contact with bare skin, chaunsel makes 
  the affected area extremely sensitive for up to 
  about twenty minutes. It is often used by thieves 
  or others working in darkness, applied to their 
  fingertips to make them able to feel tiny details, 
  seams, and such. Overdosing causes days of 
  numbness in the affected area.
  Tansabra
  When injected (it must reach the bloodstream), 
  this mixture of particular creature venoms causes 
  complete “system shutdown” in mammals. This 
  means that breathing is suspended, the body 
  temperature “holds,” the need for oxygen ceases, 
  bleeding stops, any internal bleeding and tear-
  ing is healed (unless fresh wounds are induced), 
  acids and toxins suspend their operations on the 
  body, and the recipient loses consciousness. In 
  effect, the body is placed in stasis. Certain little-
  known arcane and divine spells can force release 
  from “tansabra sleep,” and there are rumors that 
  certain rare gem powders and herbs can shock 
  someone out of tansabra sleep, but otherwise, an 
  affected being emerges from the effects of tansa-
  bra at a random time.
   
  Creatures in tansabra sleep don’t heal nat-
  urally, and magical healing doesn’t affect 
  them—but of course they can be conveyed to 
  magical healing while in thrall to the tansabra, 
  and healed the moment they awaken.
   
  Repeated exposure to tansabra can kill an in-
  dividual, but how much exposure is lethal varies 
  randomly from being to being. A lethal dose is not 
  related to the amount of the drug administered—
  it depends on a person’s tolerance for the number 
  of distinct times his body undergoes the effects.
  Vornduir
  When inhaled as a powder, vornduir varies widely 
  in effects. To many people, it does nothing at all. 
  Others get mild rashes and itches.
   
  For a few, it switches pain and pleasure for an 
  hour or two, so a gentle caress brings discom-
  fort, and a slap, flogging, heavy punch, or cutting 
  wound can induce an enjoyable feeling.
   
  For others, it makes them feel warm, even if 
  they are wet and out of doors in freezing tem-
  peratures, and at the same time happy and alert, 
  for two days or more. For these folks, sleep isn’t 
  needed, and their dexterity and judgment don’t 
  suffer due to weariness.
   
  Vornduir prevents shock and immobility due 
  to exposure, but not frostbite or lowered body 
  temperature, so users won’t get hypothermic, but 
  they could freeze solid. The drug, a mixture of 
  herbs and animal essences, also acts as a complete 
  and instant antidote to certain poisons—for some 
  individuals only!
  POISONS
  In general, natural-source potions and ointments 
  have a lower level of efficacy than substances that 
  either incorporate spells in the creation process, 
  or use material as an ingredient that has been en-
  spelled, or both. This statement holds true for the 
  majority of poisons, though some monster venoms 
  are powerful indeed.
  Chapter 1
  42
  
   
  Even if a poison enters the system of its in-
  tended victim, there’s no guarantee the stuff will 
  work to great effect. The physiology of some in-
  dividuals (dwarves in particular) enables them to 
  shrug off certain poisons, feeling nothing more 
  than a sick feeling for a moment or two and the 
  loss of a small amount of vitality. Some folk build 
  up a tolerance to poisons that they are exposed to 
  repeatedly, and might even become immune to 
  one or more toxins in this fashion.
   
  Poisons are illegal, usually rare or well hidden, 
  and expensive. As with drugs, there are many 
  known poisons that go by even more names. Here 
  follow a few of the most infamous or most widely 
  available. Unless otherwise noted (such as for 
  dragonbane), the poisons described here must be 
  ingested to produce their indicated effects.
  Belarris
  One of the few poisons that can be cooked thor-
  oughly in food and remain effective, belarris is 
  a black, oily mixture of wyvern blood, two tree 
  barks, and six plant saps.
   
  Someone who ingests a dose is hit with a tide 
  of fatigue as the substance enters his system. If 
  the poison takes full effect, the victim is rendered 
  unconscious for several minutes.
  Calad
  This golden, opaque liquid is derived from the 
  cranial fluids of basilisks, catobelpas, and dis-
  enchanters. Calad causes short-term distorted 
  hearing and vision in its victims, at the same time 
  that its alien chemical composition eats at one’s 
  insides.
  Dragonbane
  A legendary poison that is far more often coun-
  terfeited than found, this bright blue, opaque 
  liquid is a mixture of the blood of three sorts of 
  dragons. Dragonbane is used to best effect on real 
  dragons, who find themselves unable to breathe 
  for a brief time after being dosed with it. (Other 
  creatures are “merely” wracked with pain and in-
  ternal distress.) Dragons tend to slay anyone they 
  encounter carrying it—because, as many wyrms 
  have discovered to their chagrin, the poison can 
  be delivered by simple contact or through an in-
  jury and does not have to be ingested.
  Imvris
  A clear, purple-tinged but nigh colorless liquid 
  that has a peppery floral scent, imvris is a distil-
  late of the crushed petals of twelve jungle flowers.
   
  The poison causes paralysis in those who 
  are exposed to it. The effect is nearly immedi-
  ate; it dissipates quickly on those who merely 
  make contact with it, but if imvris enters the 
  body by ingestion or injury, the paralysis can last 
  for hours.
   
  The effects of multiple doses are cumulative, 
  but only to a point: For a victim who has suffered 
  at least seven consecutive hours of paralysis, any 
  additional exposure instantly negates the effect 
  and renders the individual immune to the poison 
  for half a day thereafter. During this time, the 
  person can hear very keenly.
  Lorbralinth
  Better known as just lorbral, this sweet-smelling, 
  clear, oily poison is made from the spittle of no 
  less than sixteen monsters, including the basilisk 
  and the leucrotta.
   
  Touching the concoction does no harm, but 
  someone who ingests it or is wounded by a lor-
  bral-tainted weapon becomes briefly debilitated 
  with alternating waves of chill and fever.
  Srindym
  An iridescent, silver liquid, this poison was cre-
  ated by elves millennia ago and was often used 
  by less principled individuals of that race against 
  “lesser” races. Very few individuals know how to 
  make srindym—or know where the secret caches 
  of it are—so it’s rare and expensive. Making srin-
  dym is a closely guarded secret that involves elven 
  blood, moonlight, the casting of multiple spells, 
  and several plant ingredients.
   
  This poison works by injury, contact, and in-
  gestion. Elves (including drow) are immune to 
  srindym, and half-elves are highly resistant to its 
  effect. Other kinds of creatures quickly become 
  disoriented and stiff-jointed, then lose conscious-
  ness for a minute or more.
   
  Srindym acts as a sort of antidote to itself, for 
  a while: No single creature can be affected by 
  a subsequent dose of the stuff for about a day 
  thereafter. Also, repeated exposure to the poison 
  brings with it eventual immunity—every time an 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  43
  
  individual is beset with it, the resulting period of 
  unconsciousness is a few seconds shorter, until 
  finally the toxin has no effect on that person ever 
  again. Some of those who employ this poison are 
  not initially aware of this aspect of its makeup, 
  and learn about it only when the target of their at-
  tention fails to fall down.
  Swiftsleep
  A gummy, translucent ale-brown liquid that 
  smells like crushed citrus fruit, swiftsleep is abun-
  dant and relatively cheap because its ingredients 
  are a distillate of crushed flies and certain com-
  mon tree beetles, added to duskwood sap.
   
  When delivered into an open wound or oth-
  erwise directly into the bloodstream, swiftsleep 
  causes nigh-instant slumber, with normal breath-
  ing and smooth, even snoring, for an initial 
  period of many minutes. In much the fashion that 
  srindym works (see above), each time the same 
  target is affected, swiftsleep’s duration decreases 
  by a good fraction, until after several exposures 
  that individual is immune.
  Thardynyn
  A translucent yellow liquid that’s odorless but 
  tastes like sugary strawberries, thardynyn is made 
  from a distillate of certain fish scales combined 
  with alcohol (usually wine) and the blood of cer-
  tain birds.
   
  Thardynyn is harmless if consumed, but if the 
  substance touches one’s body in any other way, 
  the resulting shock to the system causes uncon-
  trollable shuddering, leaving the victim helpless to 
  prevent what happens next.
  Yethgrel
  An enspelled mixture of the spittle or blood of 
  seven sorts of monsters, yethgrel is a vivid purple, 
  opaque liquid. The substance wreaks havoc on 
  the physiology of anyone who drinks it, yet at the 
  same time it protects that same body from any 
  other harmful effects for a short period. Some 
  brave—or desperate—individuals have deliber-
  ately taken yethgrel so as to survive a few deadly 
  exchanges of combat.
  CURRENT CLACK
  Most news and rumors are spread across the 
  Realms by caravans, and along coasts, by the 
  crews of ships. In many a wayside settlement, 
  whenever a caravan stops for the night, the popu-
  lace turns out at local inns and taverns to hear the 
  latest “clack” (what’s being talked about). Trav-
  elers can often earn something to eat or a drink 
  or two by relating enough entertaining lore. The 
  freshest news is the most in demand—which, of 
  course, leads to embroidering and outright tall 
  tales, lies and half-truths and rumors building on 
  each other into fanciful creations that bear little 
  resemblance to their plainer and more demure 
  beginnings.
   
  The Harpers, the Zhentarim, the Red Wizards 
  of Thay, and wily manipulators such as Elmin-
  ster and Vangerdahast—not to mention trading 
  costers and merchants aiming to affect market 
  prices—have long known the value of planting 
  rumors to stir public attitudes in a particu-
  lar direction. It takes a lot of energy and a glib 
  tongue, and such accounts can often be twisted 
  in undesirable or unintended directions in the 
  retelling—or overwhelmed entirely by more dra-
  matic events happening at the same time. Yet this 
  method of disseminating information works, has 
  worked for centuries, and is going on right now. 
  Innkeepers and tavernmasters are often paid by 
  the Zhentarim or other power groups (even small 
  local cabals) to talk about something, drop par-
  ticular names, or direct wayfarers to particular 
  businesses.
   
  Wayfarer, be warned. Any bit of clack you hear 
  might be absolutely true. It also might be abso-
  lutely not true, or its place along the spectrum of 
  factuality might be anywhere between these ex-
  tremes. No matter what else it might be, though, 
  the current clack is always . . . current.
  Chapter 1
  44
  
  In every player pack I created for one of my Realms campaigns, I included “current clack”—news and rumors characters would hear lo-
  cally (including from caravans passing through their locale) as play began. This is from the Company of the Stag player pack, but this is 
  how it all begins, every time—because if you, the players, are going to choose where your characters go and what they explore, I must dangle 
  an array of possibilities before you. You have to feel the world is no lifeless backdrop, but a gigantic flood of many lives constantly unfolding. 
  LIFE IN THE REALMS
  45
  
  46
  Many an adventurer has had to flee from, lie low 
  to avoid the attention of, or deal with the Watch 
  or some form of local law keepers, what the old 
  Amnian ballad calls “the grim stalwarts who face 
  the night armed with lantern, badge, and sword.” 
  And the law these stalwarts enforce isn’t the 
  whim of a Watch officer, but something written 
  down somewhere and meant to be upheld by trial.
   
  In short, there is a justice system with codes of 
  laws that define it, built with the intent to achieve 
  justice—and it is what has made the busy mercan-
  tile successes of Faerûn possible. Many years ago, 
  the sage Alaundo wrote: “If proud civilization is a 
  rampant, roaring dragon, laws and their keepers 
  are its mighty skeleton.”
   
  In the realm of law, as in many other areas 
  of life, those with the most clout usually get to 
  make the rules. In Faerûn, an appropriate syn-
  onym for “those with the most clout” would be 
  “the members of the noble class.” No discussion 
  of legality and justice in the Realms can avoid the 
  fact that social class and noble standing (or lack 
  of it) are critical to how the system works for each 
  individual.
   
  As the saying goes: If you don’t handle nobles, 
  nobles will handle you.
  WILLIAM O’CONNOR
  2
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  47
  CLASS AND NOBILITY
  Almost all societies in the Realms are divided 
  into classes based on genealogy and wealth. In-
  dividuals can move from class to class, but such 
  is never easy—unless one moves from society to 
  society, leaving the neighbors who have known 
  him or her from birth. Although recent centuries 
  in the Realms have seen a steady rise in the power 
  and status of merchants, most lands have a titled 
  nobility, a ruling class that dominates by birth-
  right—and often also by wealth and competence. 
  Many a poor rogue who lives by wits and despera-
  tion dreams of becoming a noble.
   
  In the Realms, some of them even manage it.
  Lower Classes: The Haves
  In most locales in the Realms, non-noble men 
  and women are considered equals but have tra-
  ditional roles or fields of dominance. For men, 
  this dominance extends to warfare, sea voyaging, 
  and smithing, and for women, hearth and home 
  and shop keeping. In guilds, members’ rights and 
  privileges are never based on gender.
   
  In addition, while most Faerûnian lands have 
  social classes based on wealth and heritage, rigid 
  castes that a person is born into and dies without 
  leaving are found nowhere in the Realms.
   
  The closest thing to a feudal society in the 
  Realms is Tethyr. Almost all Heartlands and 
  more northerly farmers in the Realms are free-
  men, though a case can be made for serfdom (in 
  fact if not in name; the term “serf” is unknown 
  in the Realms) in Tethyr (before the Black Days), 
  and in present-day Calimshan. Arguably, those 
  latter two countries have more high-yield farm-
  land due to climate, so perhaps some form of 
  serfdom is used in the highest-output farmlands.
   
  The most common Realms term for the equiv-
  alent of a serf is “bondsman,” meaning someone 
  who holds lands under a contract that sets forth 
  conditions. Of course, the duties and rules for a 
  bondsman don’t directly correspond to those of 
  real-world serfs.
   
  Certainly the duchies of Tethyr and the border 
  baronies of Amn, such as Cormyr, are feudal in 
  nature, but that term isn’t used to connote a serf-
  dom. Rather, it means that the local lord has to 
  render military support to the ruler when called 
  upon, and in turn has the power to commandeer 
  portions of crop yields from the farms under the 
  local lord’s protection (and in some cases “yeo-
  man warriors” from among the farmhands) when 
  the need arises.
   
  No farmer in the Dales is anything but a free-
  holder (“freeman” or “freewoman”) or a hired 
  “crofter” working and living on lands owned by 
  another and paying rent to that owner in the form 
  of either coin or a portion of the crop yield.
   
  In Sembia and upland Cormyr, crofters are 
  the norm. Except for the strips of land alongside 
  major roads and in the most remote locales, al-
  most all the tilled land is owned by one wealthy 
  family or another. In “downland” Cormyr 
  (roughly, south of Immersea and Waymoot), some 
  wealthy families own large numbers of separate 
  city buildings or small farms, but their properties 
  are scattered among the small holds of indepen-
  dent Cormyrean citizens (“freefolk”).
  Nobles: The Have-Mores
  What advantages does being noble give someone?
   
  In most places, being noble gives you special 
  treatment under the law thorough kinder inves-
  tigations and fairer trials. Nobles tend to have 
  rights lesser folk lack, even something as trivial 
  as being allowed to stop and leave their coach in 
  the middle of a street, or being allowed to enter or 
  leave a city at all hours, when gates would remain 
  firmly shut for others.
   
  Most important: Nobles have connections. 
  Nobles grow up knowing the right people to get 
  things done—everything from quietly arrang-
  ing investments, to giving jobs, to where to find 
  (“source” in polite speech) almost anything. They 
  are taught the local ways of successfully com-
  manding, demanding, and influencing—and are 
  expected to use them. Most certainly do.
   
  By and large, nobles do not exercise their influ-
  ence in an outright malicious way; to do so would 
  be to unnecessarily invite discontent among those 
  wronged. Exceptions exist, however.
   
  For example, in the largest and most prosper-
  ous cities of Faerûn (such as Waterdeep, Athkatla, 
  Suzail, and all the cities of Sembia), there are 
  wealthy youths who because of their family pros-
  perity have leisure and coin enough to pursue 
  fashions and interests at idle whim. They often do 
  so in ways that disgust or unsettle their parents, 
  as a form of rebellion. Some young nobles play at 
  
  Chapter 2
  48
  being a street beggar or a gang member or even a 
  highcoin escort. Others join weird cults, or even 
  create weird cults, complete with shocking cloth-
  ing; secret passwords and catchphrases; or an 
  obsession with the bygone fashions, manners, and 
  mores of ancestors from several centuries back. 
  Additionally, these cults often feature arcane 
  sagecraft or herb lore, or the desire to go feral and 
  live with packs of wild animals.
   
  For most, these are just passing fads, but be-
  cause so many idle youths try them, there are 
  always some mischief-making wastrels to be 
  found.
   
  Currently, in both Athkatla and Waterdeep, 
  nobles and the youth of rising merchant houses 
  play at “Farforevermore,” the activity of wear-
  ing the fashions popular among local nobles more 
  than a century ago, courting in the old ways, and 
  playing at keeping—and flogging—slaves as the 
  nobles once did . . . and so on. “Forevers” adopt 
  personas while playacting, often maintain hid-
  den or private garret rooms where they transform 
  from their everyday selves to their personas, and 
  pool funds to host revels or even rent mansions 
  where they can play. Of course, most of them 
  hotly deny that they’re playing at anything, insist-
  ing instead that they’re improving themselves, 
  and ultimately their cities, by cleaving to the bet-
  ter ways of yesteryear.
  Becoming Noble
  The process for being made a noble varies from 
  place to place. In most realms and city-states, you 
  gain a title by pleasing the ruler—or by serving as 
  a convenient fall guy. The title can be either a va-
  cant title that you assume or, more commonly, a 
  new title invented on the spot.
   
  Cormyr even distinguishes between hereditary 
  and nonhereditary titles. Azoun IV before his 
  death, Filfaeril his queen before or after his death, 
  Alusair as regent, and any ruler thereafter can 
  confer a title on you that gives your offspring no 
  title or status at all. “Sitting nobles” everywhere 
  frown on rulers adding upstarts to their ranks 
  and will often treat them with disdain regardless 
  of what title they’ve gained. There are also court 
  titles (also known as offices) that come with great 
  power, but aren’t themselves a mark of nobility. 
  Although, just to confuse things, they’re usu-
  ally given to nobles, or if handed to commoners, 
  are commonly accompanied by at least a knight-
  hood. Alusair the Steel Regent could appoint the 
  nearest street urchin as warden of the Western 
  Marches—but it’s hard to see why she would.
   
  One true Cormyrean tale is told of a wounded 
  Azoun IV wanting to send a commoner to Fil-
  faeril to deliver a message without War Wizards 
  stopping him, because he had just been wounded 
  in a plot involving traitor War Wizards. So he ap-
  pointed a particular commoner to be a lord high 
  marshal of Cormyr for a tenday, complete with a 
  royal ring, several copies of the royal commission, 
  a War Wizard cloak, and Azoun’s own dagger. 
  Vangerdahast was livid when he encountered this 
  presumed impostor and forcefully took the com-
  moner into custody—but did immediately bring 
  that individual to Filfaeril, without examining the 
  message he was carrying.
   
  In Amn, Tethyr, and any land imperiled by 
  monsters or brigandry, one can often gain nobil-
  ity by offering to police a border area. Serving as 
  examples are the baron of Hawkhill in the north-
  eastern mountains of Amn, and the standing offer 
  from the Crown of Cormyr to make a baron of 
  anyone who can occupy, tame, police, and patrol 
  the Stonelands.
   
  Personal service to a monarch plus marriage 
  to nobility usually gains you a noble title in your 
  own right (as opposed to something lame such as 
  “sir consort”). But bear in mind that if the mon-
  arch is succeeded by someone who didn’t like 
  him or her, the title might go away again—and 
  your head with it. Many nobles, such as the out-
  of-favor families in Westgate and elsewhere, have 
  found that their status earns them exile in this 
  way.
   
  If a hero personally and publicly saved Cormyr, 
  the ruling Obarskyr of the day would probably 
  reward him or her with a handsome title: “High 
  Protector of the Realm” or some such. The Obar-
  skyr would almost certainly not publicly say if 
  the title was hereditary or not, and it wouldn’t be 
  worded to make it sound hereditary. Only War 
  Wizards, senior palace scribes, and local heralds 
  would know the permanence or impermanence of 
  the title. Of course, public sentiment would prob-
  ably enthusiastically support bestowal of the title 
  at the time, but the Obarskyr is banking on the 
  passage of time to help make sure that the nature 
  of the title, hereditary or not, eventually won’t be 
  of great public interest. Cormyr’s early history 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  49
  After the Swords of Eveningstar arrived in Shadowdale, cleaned out the brigands in the Twisted Tower, and claimed the lordship of the dale 
  (Florin refusing it because he wanted to continue to be a ranger, not sit on a throne, so Doust ending up saddled with it), the future Knights 
  of Myth Drannor decided they needed to have a census. This is the first page of it. They wanted to identify locals who seemed suspicious. 
  Little did they know that more than a third of their subjects were agents of the Zhentarim, Cormyr, Sembia, or other dales!
  
  Chapter 2
  50
  argues against the public acceptance of hereditary 
  elven titles.
   
  In Sembia, if you just want to be called “lord,” 
  all you need do is amass a staggering amount of 
  coin, take up residence in Sembia, and proclaim 
  yourself a lord. This method has worked for 
  scores of individuals over the last few centuries.
   
  Many ambitious adventurers have set them-
  selves up as nobility in the Border Kingdoms, 
  conquering a few pastures and forests and declar-
  ing it a realm. They usually also give themselves 
  all sorts of grand and often ridiculous titles, such 
  as “Emperor of the Lower Middens.” That’s 
  the usual sort of way that adventurers become 
  noble, aside from wooing and marrying nobility. 
  Realmslore is full of tales of warriors who forcibly 
  wooed fair noble maids, who after marriage fell 
  deeply in love with their new lords . . . but then, 
  lore tends to be more romantic than daily life; a 
  large number of such force-taken maids have poi-
  soned or daggered their lords.
  Becoming Noble in 
  Waterdeep
  To put it succinctly: Forget it. Nobility in Wa-
  terdeep is a closed shop. Old-money merchant 
  families once conferred noble status on them-
  selves in return for their support of common 
  laws that would bind them as well as the rabble, 
  and their descendants are working very hard 
  to prevent new-money merchants—or anyone 
  else!—from gaining a title. In any event, folks in 
  Waterdeep respect money, not titles, so if you’re 
  the visiting king of Haroondra-Lala, that’s nice—
  now pay up.
    Still determined to gain power in Waterdeep, 
  without the title? The easiest way would be to 
  discover the identity of a Masked Lord and to 
  dispose of and impersonate him or her (“easi-
  est,” please note, not “easy”). This tactic presents 
  moral problems for many individuals, and there’s 
  also a high risk of discovery by mind-snooping 
  Watchful Order magists and fellow Masked 
  Lords. In addition, there are numerous pitfalls 
  beyond the mere changing of face and form in 
  successfully fooling family, friends, and business 
  contacts into believing that you are actually the 
  Masked Lord in question.
   
  A slower, harder way to power is to serve the 
  city with distinction in exposing plots, legal trans-
  gressions, and the like. Do so long enough and 
  well enough—and stay alive in the face of angry 
  surviving swindlers and plotters—and you will 
  get noticed by the authorities. This notice in-
  cludes being thoroughly investigated by the City 
  Guard, the city’s unofficial but very real secret 
  agents (who report to Piergeiron or Mirt), as well 
  as by the Watchful Order and the Watch.
   
  If you’re truly clean of personal scandal (not 
  ambitions, just shady dealings and intentions), 
  you might be covertly approached to become a se-
  cret agent. If—and only if—being a public agent 
  would be the most effective way you could serve, 
  you would be taken on at the palace in some sort 
  of official position, and could gain status thereby. 
  This turn of events is unlikely, however, since 
  public agents are numerous already, and the lords 
  really need more unknown, fresh faces for secret-
  agent work.
   
  Of course, having this status would still mean 
  you’d be looked down on by old-guard nobles; 
  they even look down on Piergeiron and Khelben 
  (behind their backs, of course). Courtiers are 
  mere toadies and “jumped-up power-snatchers” 
  in their regard, but then, so are junior noble fami-
  lies. Some nobles spend their entire lives ranking 
  people and playing “I’m haughtier than thou” 
  games. So, you could receive elevated status, yes, 
  complete with airs to match, if you want to as-
  sume them . . . but don’t expect to get the full, 
  cordial, “You’re one of us” treatment from certain 
  nobles, who would cut you dead even if you mar-
  ried their parents, siblings, or offspring.
   
  The most junior Waterdhavian noble families 
  were elevated in 1254 DR, and Waterdeep has 
  actually lost two noble families since then: Zoar 
  and Gildeggh, which were exiled in 1273 DR. 
  There have since been three noble families who 
  almost went extinct, and there is some evidence 
  that nobles or Lords of Waterdeep quickly ar-
  ranged marriages to make certain that no noble 
  house disappeared. This was done both to avoid 
  pressure from any ambitious merchants (“There’s 
  now room for me, isn’t there?”) and, more im-
  portant, to avoid having dozens of mountebanks 
  or serious individuals showing up over the cen-
  turies to come, each claiming to be the long-lost 
  heir of this or that noble house. (“So where’s my 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  51
  PATRICK MCEVOY
  No matter what angle you think you’re viewing them from, the nobles of  Waterdeep will be looking down upon you. (It’s what they do.)
  
  Chapter 2
  52
  mansion? What have you done with it? You owe 
  me for it!”)
   
  In this sense, “junior” really refers to the fact 
  that certain noble families play a sneering-down-
  upon-others game based on the belief or pretense 
  that their bloodlines are older and therefore bet-
  ter than those of other nobility. In truth, all of 
  Waterdeep’s nobles began as jumped-up wealthy 
  merchants—and some houses have even lost most 
  of their wealth since being ennobled. So this 
  snobbery isn’t much different from two ancient, 
  toothless old men living in adjacent tumbledown 
  shacks in a village, one of them looking down on 
  the other because “his family wasn’t originally 
  from these parts.”
   
  It’s possible to marry into the nobility of Water-
  deep, especially if you happen to be good-looking 
  or very rich, but gaining entry into a family by 
  successfully disposing of and impersonating a 
  particular noble, or successfully convincing a par-
  ticular noble family you are a long-lost relation, is 
  much harder. Even legitimate long-lost kin must 
  be ready to withstand hired magical probing and 
  other tests—and be pleasant throughout. If the 
  would-be heir is not pleasant enough, a dagger in 
  the ribs and a corner of earth in the deepest cellar 
  is much less work than feeding, clothing, and tol-
  erating him or her.
  How They Did It
  The Phull and Zulpair families were the last to be 
  ennobled, and they seem to have managed it by 
  identical methods, to wit:
   
  1. They succeeded at trade enough to become 
  staggeringly wealthy.
   
  2. They bought up large amounts of real estate 
  in Waterdeep, especially in North Ward and Sea 
  Ward.
   
  3. They attended all the revels and acted in a 
  quiet, toadying, subservient manner, offering free 
  coin to help with the troubles discussed by grum-
  bling nobles at said functions.
   
  4. They very quietly loaned coin to desperate 
  noble houses.
   
  5. They financially bailed out and furthered 
  the stated aims of a few Masked Lords by clean-
  ing up firetrap warehouses in Dock Ward, fixing 
  the sewers, dredging the harbor, and expanding 
  and repairing the city walls. Then, they allowed 
  the Masked Lords to take all the credit.
   
  6. They told everyone, over and over again at 
  revels, that they cared deeply for the good of Wa-
  terdeep and said often that “We must all think of 
  the good of Waterdeep, so that it will be as great 
  centuries hence as it is now.”
   
  7. When desperate noble houses discreetly ap-
  proached them for even more coin than they’d 
  given them before (in step 4), they willingly 
  handed them more, saying, “This should be a 
  gift, not a loan, but not being noble myself, I can’t 
  insult you like that. Now, if we were both noble, 
  all you’d need do would be to hint—and this 
  could always be a gift.”
   
  8. They started marrying their daughters 
  (made as beautiful as magic could make them, 
  and trained in noble speech and deportment) into 
  noble houses, and accompanied them with stag-
  geringly large dowries that were never actually 
  called dowries or publicly transferred.
   
  9. They hired spies to learn the identities of one 
  or two of the Masked Lords, and they befriended 
  them, financially helping their businesses.
   
  10. They bribed (through intermediaries, of 
  course) some of the disaffected young wastrel no-
  bles to verbally champion their families at revels 
  by “acting as nobles should.”
   
  11. They bribed (through intermediaries) some 
  servants at revels to remark to other servants that 
  their families “acted as true nobles should.”
   
  12. They bankrolled some young, disaffected 
  nobles desirous of pursuing their dreams, how-
  ever foolish or zany their schemes, and befriended 
  them.
   
  13. They watched for financial troubles among 
  the nobles and sought to repeat step 4, aiming for 
  a repeat of step 7.
  And, all that time, they didn’t build luxury city 
  mansions of their own, didn’t openly challenge 
  any noble, and never openly asked to become 
  noble—or pretended to be noble.
   
  Eventually, someone facing ruin remembered 
  step 7 and started whispering that these gener-
  ous families should be ennobled. The Phull and 
  Zulpair families were wise enough to do nothing. 
  They just let it happen.
   
  As you can see, this plan requires kingdoms 
  full of money (the Zulpairs found a remote is-
  land where monsters had devoured a dwarf clan 
  and then perished for lack of food, leaving en-
  tire caverns full of mined rubies ownerless) and 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  53
  generations of time, plus not making a single mis-
  take. That’s why it’s never been done since. It 
  worked for the Phulls and the Zulpairs (who have 
  been scorned by many nobles since) because they 
  practically bought up all of North Ward between 
  them—and then gave it away, property by prop-
  erty, in the process of winning support for the 
  ennobling of House Phull and House Zulpair.
  As to how Waterdeep got nobles in the first place: 
  The richest merchants in Waterdeep got together 
  in the face of Raurlor’s and then Ahghairon’s au-
  thoritarianism and said: “Right, now, hear this: 
  We’re special, and we get these special privileges, 
  hey? In return, we’ll support your rule instead of 
  knifing all your agents and raising support against 
  you, and then fighting each other and destroying 
  the whole damned city, eh, what?” Ahghairon saw 
  this as the perfect way to avoid the rise of another 
  Raurlor, when he grew too old to stop such a ca-
  lamity, as these self-styled nobles would police 
  each other as well as the commoners under them. 
   
  This all changed in 1452 DR when a few im-
  poverished nobles sold their titles in return for 
  staggering sums of coin to pay off their almost-
  as-staggering debts. The shame wasn’t as dire as 
  they’d thought it would be, and the few became 
  a torrent over the next twenty years, until by 
  1480 DR noble titles became publicly offered for 
  sale—and, for the first time, for resale, as some of 
  the wealthy purchasers of titles themselves fell on 
  hard times.
  JUSTICE
  The Realms is a large world, and across it are a 
  bewildering variety of local laws and edicts and 
  ways of applying them. Edicts can be ruler proc-
  lamations, but far more frequently are temporary 
  laws and person-specific prohibitions instated by 
  lower-ranking officials. These tend to have less 
  weight at a trial than codified, formal laws unless 
  they have stood for some time and been rein-
  forced by many sentences. 
  The Laws of Secomber
  The laws of Secomber are reproduced in this 
  section, because they are typical of local legal 
  codes throughout the Heartlands. These laws are 
  modeled on Waterdeep’s Code Legal, with the fol-
  lowing modifications.
   
  In Waterdeep there are four plaints of crimes, 
  the first and most serious of which is “crimes 
  against the Lords,” or offenses against the gov-
  ernment. There are no “crimes against Lords” in 
  Secomber.
   
  In Waterdeep, most crimes are heard by one of 
  twenty-six magisters (commonly known as Black 
  Robes, for their uniforms), but cases can be ap-
  pealed to the Lord’s Court, which consists of the 
  Open Lord of the city and two magisters, neither 
  of whom is the magister whose decision is being 
  appealed.
   
  Rather than black-robed magisters, Secomber 
  has Rods of Justice as its judges. These are re-
  spected elders, nominated and voted into office 
  for four-summer terms by the populace, and their 
  total number varies from six to nine (as illness 
  and crime rates necessitate). A Rod can be dis-
  missed by a majority vote of the other Rods, can 
  resign freely, and can excuse oneself from specific 
  cases if he or she has a personal interest in the 
  outcome (though Rods can’t be compelled to ex-
  cuse themselves, even when a conflict of interest 
  or bias is obvious).
   
  All cases are heard by nine-member juries 
  made up of landowners of Secomber, each cho-
  sen randomly by a blindfolded local child (who 
  in turn is randomly chosen by any priest who’s 
  handy, or failing that by a Rod) who chooses 
  name-bearing chits out of a cauldron. If a chit 
  drawn is someone who has served on a jury within 
  the previous year, the chit is discarded and a new 
  chit is drawn as a replacement. All trials are pub-
  lic, and often serve as entertainment for the idle. 
  The accused parties are allowed to speak freely, 
  though Rods can and do order them gagged if 
  they spit obscenities or offer tirades or threats.
   
  Spellcasting in court (without the express per-
  mission of the presiding Rod) is a severe crime; 
  if done by an accused person, the defendant will 
  be struck unconscious, bound, and gagged. Jus-
  tice will then proceed with that person left thus 
  restrained, with the punishment for spellcasting 
  added to whatever sentence he or she might be 
  given for the original crime. Attacking a Rod at 
  any time is treated as both “aiding an attack upon 
  Secomber” and “assault upon a citizen,” and the 
  sentences for both apply.
  
  Chapter 2
  54
   
  Trials are immediate (usually held within half 
  a day), though a Rod can order a stay of proceed-
  ings if there’s a wait to gain witnesses or evidence. 
  As in Waterdeep’s Code Legal, these laws aren’t 
  absolute rules, but rather guidelines. Rods and ju-
  ries are free to set any sentence they want if guilt 
  is determined. The inability to pay fines or dam-
  ages is mitigated by seizure of the guilty person’s 
  property, combined with enforced hard labor 
  until enough coin is earned to satisfy the debt. 
  Unlike in Waterdeep, there is no Lord’s Court 
  or automatic appeal a party found guilty can 
  make—but increasingly, over the years, the proc-
  lamation of new evidence coming to light has led 
  to a nigh-automatic swift and informal retrial, or 
  sometimes dismissal of the charges against a pris-
  oner and the rewarding of freedom on the spot.
  Secomber’s Code of Justice
  Three general kinds of offenses exist in Sec-
  omber, to wit:
   
  The category of godsfrowns (crimes against the 
  gods) includes assaults against Secomber, most 
  criminal activities that involve property loss or 
  damage, and offenses of a personal nature that do 
  not cause or lead to the death of the victim.
   
  Deathseekings are crimes that directly involve 
  death or that threaten to bring about death by 
  their performance, including outright killing and 
  other injurious behavior.
   
  Deceits, malices, and threatenings make up 
  the roster of lesser crimes. Some of these offenses, 
  from the severity of their punishments, can be 
  roughly equated to misdemeanors in the real 
  world. Others (such as impersonating a Rod) are 
  much more serious.
  ERIC BELISLE
  The powers behind the thrones: Any who wonder why Cormyr hasn’t erupted into civil war scores of times during its history must be 
  unaware of how much its noble lords are ruled by their usually sensible and always iron-willed ladies.
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  55
  Godsfrowns
   
  Attacking Secomber: This crime is defined 
  as invading Secomber with intent to murder, pil-
  lage, or set fires; the act of deliberately poisoning 
  or fouling any food, water, or drinkable in Sec-
  omber; casting spells to cause building collapses 
  or effects reasonably expected to cause multiple 
  deaths; or damage to city gates. If observed in the 
  act by a Rod or Watch member, the offender is 
  killed on the spot; otherwise the punishment for 
  conviction is death.
   
  Aiding an Attack upon Secomber: This 
  crime is defined as knowingly providing informa-
  tion or assistance to outlander parties desiring to 
  damage or steal property from Secomber, foul any 
  well or pond in Secomber, or attack or kidnap or 
  mutilate or maim any citizen of Secomber. The 
  offender must pay damages to anyone affected by 
  the attack, serve hard labor, and pay a fine to the 
  city. Then the offender is exiled and banned from 
  entering the city again.
   
  Arson: The offender is sentenced to death or 
  enforced hard labor, depending on the severity of 
  the crime, then branded and exiled.
   
  Defiling Holy Places or Temple Theft: The 
  offender must pay damages and serve a term of 
  hard labor. A public pronouncement forbids the 
  convict from entering a holy place, and the of-
  fender is often exiled from the city.
   
  Public Blasphemy: The offender is impris-
  oned for half a day, or overnight if the trial is held 
  in the evening.
   
  Rape: The offender pays damages to the vic-
  tim. Then the miscreant is stripped, chained in 
  public, flogged, and left chained until the next 
  sunrise. Citizens can ridicule the miscreant, but 
  face justice if they strike, hurl missiles that do 
  lasting harm, or cast hostile magic on the mis-
  creant. During the shackling, citizens are free to 
  feed, tend, comfort, give medical aid, and try to 
  warm the miscreant with fires, cloaks, et cetera, 
  but they may not unchain him or her or entirely 
  clothe him or her. Then the offender suffers muti-
  lation and is thrown in a dungeon.
   
  Spellcasting in Court: The offender is 
  flogged and shackled as described above, then 
  fined and imprisoned for a tenday. This act is 
  not a crime if it has the express prior permission 
  of a Rod.
   
  Theft: The thief must pay a fine to the city 
  as well as damages to the victim, and is publicly 
  flogged and shackled.
   
  Tomb-Robbing: The thief must pay a fine to 
  the city and damages to the injured party (usually 
  a relative of the tomb’s inhabitant), and is then 
  branded as a tomb-robber.
   
  Violation of Any Edict: The offender is sen-
  tenced to manual labor at the direction of the 
  presiding Rod of Justice. This could mean re-
  pairing walls or bridges, filling in potholes and 
  washouts on roads, mending roofs or chimneys, 
  shoveling or plowing snow in winter, or—the old 
  fallback—cutting, splitting, and stacking fire-
  wood. A fine also applies, plus a new trial if the 
  violation involves new offenses against the Code.
  Deathseekings
   
  Assault upon a Citizen Resulting in Injury: 
  The offender must pay damages and is sentenced 
  to either hard labor or public flogging and shack-
  ling. (A citizen is one who owns land, pays rent, 
  or has resided in Secomber or within view of its 
  walls for at least a season.)
   
  Assault upon an Outlander Resulting in 
  Injury: The offender must pay damages, possibly 
  followed by light labor or a fine.
   
  Harmful Public Spellcasting: The caster 
  must pay damages and a fine, serve a light labor 
  sentence for up to a tenday, and is then exiled 
  from the city for one full year. This category in-
  cludes unleashing magic items. “Harmful” means 
  resulting in damage to persons or property, or 
  through fear or removal of support causing imme-
  diate accident or suicide.
   
  Murder: A willful murder brings a death sen-
  tence, but if the murder is judged unintentional, 
  the miscreant might be flogged and shackled and 
  then banned. In cases of justified killing (such 
  as in the defense of self, spouse, or children), the 
  offender is usually branded instead. Note that 
  killings brought about by an attempt to prevent 
  any crime in the Code receive lesser punishments 
  (typically a fine paid to the city, or none at all), 
  and adventurers or mercenaries who were hired 
  to defend Secomber or to keep the peace cannot 
  receive sentences more severe than a fine. Acquit-
  tals are usual in cases of murder done to someone 
  who threatens the accused with a weapon after 
  having just publicly committed a murder.
  
  Chapter 2
  56
  Deceits, Malices, and Threatenings
   
  Bribery or Attempted Bribery: The pun-
  ishment includes light labor, a fine, and a public 
  pronouncement prohibiting the offender from en-
  gaging in any activity related to the bribe.
   
  Dealing in Stolen Goods: The fence pays a 
  fine and damages, both based on the Rod’s esti-
  mation of value of stolen goods.
   
  Forgery of Currency or Legal Document 
  or Posted Notice: The forger must serve a term 
  of hard labor or imprisonment, and must also pay 
  damages.
   
  Fraud: The miscreant is branded and must 
  pay both damages and a fine.
   
  Hampering Justice: This crime is defined as 
  refusing to testify, hiding from the Watch, pre-
  venting the Watch from entry or impeding the 
  Watch’s chasing of someone or seizure of some-
  thing. The offender must pay a fine and serve a 
  sentence of hard labor.
   
  Impersonating a Rod of Justice, a Member 
  of the Watch, or an Ordained Priest: The of-
  fender is fined and exiled.
   
  Intimidation or Blackmail: The offender 
  must pay a fine and damages, and endures public 
  flogging and shackling.
   
  Obstruction: In most cases, this offense 
  amounts to parking a wagon or conveyance 
  against a doorway or across an alley or other 
  route, so it can’t easily be traversed. The offender 
  must pay damages, and a public edict forbids 
  him or her from driving a wagon in the city for a 
  specified period. If the city gate was blocked, the 
  sentence also includes imprisonment for one full 
  day and night.
   
  Resisting Arrest: The offender is imprisoned 
  for one day, then flogged and shackled. If the 
  accused is deemed to be too weak to endure flog-
  ging and shackling, a fine is levied instead.
   
  Vandalism: The vandal pays a fine and dam-
  ages and is then flogged and shackled. If the 
  damage is to a garden, or is merely cosmetic, pay-
  ment of damages is usually the only punishment.
  Laws of Daily Life
  In addition to the codified laws discussed here, 
  Secomber and almost every other settlement large 
  enough to hold a market that noncitizens come 
  to, all across Faerûn, have a patchwork of accu-
  mulated “civic laws.” These are akin to real-world 
  bylaws and regulations, and they govern how 
  buildings are built (to minimize fire risk), when 
  and where certain activities—particularly those 
  that are noisy, such as building construction—can 
  be carried out, and various prohibitions that have 
  been put in place on a case-by-case basis to settle 
  local disputes. (“Owing to insufferable stenches, 
  Thaeler the furrier is not to park a wagon of raw 
  hides, nor any uncured furs, against this wall or 
  within two lance-lengths of any part of this wall, 
  said lances being held straight out from the wall 
  in line with each other.”) A first-time offender 
  against a civic law receives a warning, pays a fine, 
  and must promise not to reoffend. Penalties for 
  repeat offenders escalate.
  PROPERTY LAW
  Generally, formal laws regarding possessions 
  and property exist only in kingdoms and other 
  organized countries. Otherwise, might makes 
  right, and the law is whatever the local lord or 
  kingpin says.
   
  In reality, this brute force, “My sword is the 
  law” approach is always tempered by custom. 
  Customs are formed by the habits of genera-
  tions, built up into “the way things are done,” as 
  well as by the expectations of locals (“You can 
  push us, self-styled ‘lord,’ but only so far: my 
  grandsire built that fence and my sire expanded 
  it—tear it down and on their graves I swear I’ll 
  tear you down!”) and by the unwritten “rules of 
  wayfaring” as understood by caravan merchants, 
  peddlers, pilgrims, and envoys, and enforced by 
  priests and the Heralds.
   
  An example of this policing: “If you set up an 
  inn and then murder everyone who stops there 
  and keep their goods, even if that’s morally ac-
  ceptable to you as a devout follower of Bane or of 
  Cyric, it will not be suffered to stand. Once word 
  gets out, expect to be soon destroyed by several 
  caravans arriving at once intent on murdering 
  you. Or failing that, expect to be shunned and ig-
  nored, with no one visiting you for any reason—so 
  it would be best for you if there’s absolutely noth-
  ing you need by way of trade, ever again, from 
  now until the end of your life.”
   
  Centuries of disputes all over the Realms have 
  led to property laws that are usually akin to this 
  arrangement: You can charge fees for the use 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  57
  of your land, or you can fence off your land and 
  guard it, with notices, prohibiting all or specific 
  uses of it—but you can’t simply butcher, maim, 
  imprison, or rob individuals you find on your 
  land. Moreover, you can’t flout local customs with 
  regard to buying and selling land, or renting land 
  to farmers to till, or providing stable and paddock 
  space and room and board to travelers.
   
  Border disputes between neighbors might be 
  settled with violence, or by documents and rules 
  and solemn (church or Herald-witnessed) agree-
  ments. Borders between nobility or rulers or 
  countries are always solemnized somehow, usually 
  with agreements or treaties arising out of wars 
  and enforced by periodic border patrols or even 
  garrisons. Often, for clarity and convenience, 
  such borders follow a river, a mountain range, a 
  road, or a tiny, meandering stream. Miscreants 
  fleeing across a border can’t depend on protection 
  from their destination unless there are patrols or 
  garrisons at the border. Without a patrol or gar-
  rison to guard the border, those in pursuit of the 
  fleeing miscreants will simply follow them, ignor-
  ing the boundary.
  Slavery
  Officially illegal almost everywhere in known 
  Faerûn, except in Dambrath, Thay, and the Old 
  Empires, the practice of slavery is known to be 
  widespread in most eastern lands.
   
  Which doesn’t mean it doesn’t go on in many 
  other places. In the cold Savage North, orcs take 
  human slaves whenever they can—and eat slaves 
  who are no longer considered useful. In the chill 
  wilderlands north of the Moonsea, “beast-men” 
  (ogres) capture humans for use as slaves and food. 
  There has always been a thriving slave trade in 
  Sembia, Westgate, and Marsember, but by the 
  very nature of the business as practiced in that 
  part of the Realms, there aren’t named, high-
  profile groups of slave takers. Rather, it’s always 
  a few individuals doing snatch-and-grab jobs and 
  fetching captives, who are often drugged to keep 
  them silent, eating and drinking little, and not 
  trying to escape. The slavers then drag their cap-
  tives to a hiding place they control, from which 
  “the goods” can readily be transferred to the ship 
  of a captain who is covertly dealing in slaves. This 
  is an important source of income for some Sea of 
  Fallen Stars pirates.
   
  There aren’t a lot of ship captains involved, 
  but there are a lot of little slaving cabals. Each is 
  composed of a dozen people at most, and half of 
  those are usually guards and “heave the drugged 
  bodies” muscle, with six at most being the ac-
  tive snatchers and thinkers. Many of these cabals 
  can, if someone starts to hunt or hound them, call 
  on the occasional assistance of evil wizards and 
  priests in return for bodies to experiment on or 
  use in rituals.
   
  Because of the small, secretive, informal na-
  ture of these gangs, there’s little official mention 
  of slavers. Unofficially, Faerûnians hear a lot of 
  horrific tales about slavers snatching innocent 
  folk, causing them to be hated and feared. Folk 
  in Marsember tend to be blasé about slavers, and 
  Sembians know and accept that hiring someone 
  to have a rival, a fellow heir, or a creditor “re-
  moved” is a daily business option. But Dalefolk 
  and rural Cormyreans will grab pitchforks and at-
  tack suspected slavers on sight.
  CORMYREAN NAMING 
  AND TRADE LAWS
  Cormyr’s naming laws and fair trade regula-
  tions are typical of those that have developed in 
  other well-governed lands and settlements in the 
  Realms.
  No Royal Names Allowed
  The kingdom’s laws about naming date back to 
  about ten years before the death of King Azoun 
  IV, when Vangerdahast and Alaphondar had an 
  idle month and agreed on some things. One of 
  them was a Crown law banning businesses of all 
  sorts (including inns, taverns, and private clubs) 
  from using royal names, royal nicknames, and 
  royal heraldry, as well as preventing them from 
  “decrying the Crown.”
   
  This means you can’t name your tavern 
  Azoun’s Codpiece or Duar’s Head or the Steel 
  Regent’s Backrest. Local Purple Dragons would 
  be offended and might wreck such an establish-
  ment even if there was no law. Those soldiers have 
  a fierce loyalty to their “companions in harness” 
  (comrades in arms) and the Obarskyrs who lead 
  them, and so veteran Purple Dragons tend to take 
  a very dim view of anything that pokes fun at the 
  
  Chapter 2
  58
  Crown. Such an act of naming would also be seen 
  as tempting misfortune, and as such many poten-
  tial customers would avoid the place as well. Of 
  course, sometimes undercover “drinking clubs” in 
  Marsember are given names that are a mockery of 
  the Crown—but never real, taxable businesses.
   
  In memory, Azoun IV is revered and jovially 
  celebrated in taverns everywhere as “our stal-
  lion.” However, honoring him takes the form of 
  remembrance festivals on the date of his birth-
  day, and the naming of meals or ales as “Azoun’s 
  Preferred” or “Azoun’s Chosen” (claims that 
  everyone smiles at and does nothing to refute, in-
  cluding Crown agents), rather than buildings and 
  businesses that are named after him. Court offi-
  cials had to be quite firm in the recent case of the 
  “A King To Swoon For” club. Lauding royalty, 
  rather than mocking the Crown, does not earn an 
  exception to the law.
   
  The law also prevents directly naming any 
  business after a particular battle (even a victory), 
  or any noble, noble family, local lord, or specific 
  heraldic blazon. You could, for instance, dub your 
  tavern “the Rearing Stag” even though certain 
  arms use a rearing stag as a device. You could not, 
  on the other hand, duplicate the depiction of the 
  rearing stag that appears in the Staghunt noble 
  family blazon, nor adopt the heraldic description 
  of that stag: “a full-antlered scarlet stag rampant 
  to the dexter, its silver rack entwined with the 
  branches of an oak tree.” There’s no rule against 
  a business using the name of a Cormyrean naval 
  ship, because a few unintentional duplications ex-
  isted when Vangey and Alaphondar were drafting 
  the law—and because neither of them considered 
  that anyone would ever confuse a ship with a 
  business or a building ashore.
   
  The names of mythical nobles—so long as they 
  can’t be mistaken for members of a real noble 
  family—can serve as the names of establishments, 
  so “the Drunken Lord” or “Old Lord Roaring-
  sides” is all right, but “Old Lord Roaringsides” 
  would not be allowed in combination with a de-
  piction, badge, or anything else (such as the black 
  stallions famously bred by the Roaringhorn fam-
  ily) that would make a traveler think there was an 
  association with the Roaringhorns.
   
  Cormyr, like every other long-settled place, has 
  several folk equivalents to the real-world Baron 
  Munchausen, Casanova, and Squire Allworthy. 
  Nobles detest being linked to these names, since 
  they have long been evoked to comment on (and 
  usually mock) nobility of the day.
   
  The best known is the aforementioned Old 
  Lord Roaringsides, a hunting, brawling, tirelessly 
  enduring lover of every woman within reach, who 
  is said to eat like sixteen men at a feast, belch loud 
  enough to knock nearby folk over, and so on.
   
  Another is Lady Doom, an icily sneering haunt 
  of a gowned, gliding woman who sails through 
  walls and locked doors without hindrance, says 
  nothing to most but whispers of doom to a few, 
  and whose appearance presages misfortune 
  or death. 
   
  The third most popular is Lord “Firetongue” 
  Haubrynton, based on a non-noble knight of 
  another name who fought alongside King Duar 
  long ago. The Lord Firetongue of the folktales 
  is a solemn, dignified noble of senior years who 
  has fits in which he swears like a sailor, punches 
  objectionable people, chases maids, plays pranks 
  . . . and then reverts, apparently having forgot-
  ten everything he’s done. The real knight differs 
  from the folk version in that he apparently had no 
  remembrance, whereas the fictional Lord Fire-
  tongue is always depicted as slyly winking when 
  he claims to have no knowledge of his wild deeds.
  Using Place Names
  You can name your tavern, inn, or stables (but 
  not any other kind of business) directly after the 
  place it is located in. For instance, “the Arms of 
  Arabel” and “the Pride of Arabel” are legal names 
  for taverns or inns, but not for armorers, weapons 
  shops, bakeries or garment shops. A tailor can’t 
  do business as “the Flashing Needle of Arabel,” 
  even if that nickname has been bestowed by his or 
  her customers.
   
  The laws prohibit duplication of, or even simi-
  larity to, an existing name. Crown agents (the 
  same guys who show up to collect taxes) will force 
  a name change on “the second business in” if, in 
  their sole opinion, confusion could arise (for one 
  thing, they never want the tax rolls to get con-
  fused). So if “the Pride of Arabel” is flourishing, 
  you can’t legally open “the Promenade of Arabel,” 
  because the two businesses might get confused by 
  a wayfarer from afar unfamiliar with the city (or 
  so a past Crown agent ruled), but “the Delight of 
  Arabel” or “the Heart of Arabel” would be fine.
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  59
   
  No business can name itself after a place it 
  isn’t located in (for example, no inn in Espar call-
  ing itself “High Horn Rest”). There are a few 
  old businesses that break this rule, and the right 
  to go on breaking it can be bought and sold, but 
  the number of such exceptions never increases. 
  For example, there’s a centuries-old inn called 
  Wyvernwater Inn that was originally known as 
  the Wyvernwater Way Inn because it was on the 
  road to Wyvernwater, half a day north of that 
  place. The name shrank over the years, but the 
  inn itself has survived in steady operation, dating 
  to before the naming rules were tightened—so it 
  can continue to exist. However, if its keeper sells 
  it to someone who goes on operating it under 
  the same name, that seller can’t open a new inn 
  outside Wyvernwater called the Old Wyvernwa-
  ter House. Similarly, if the inn called Wheloon 
  House (located well outside walled Wheloon) 
  ever burns down, it can be rebuilt, but it can’t 
  be expanded to two outside-Wheloon locations, 
  Old Wheloon House and Wheloon Castle (unless 
  those locations lack “Wheloon” in their names). 
  Many elder businesses sport discreet “banner 
  boards” under their main signboards, to inform 
  all that this establishment was formerly known by 
  a famous or infamous, but now banned, name.
  Signs Must Be Seen
  Inns, public stables, and taverns are required by 
  law to have clearly visible signs that thrust out 
  into the street. These signs must be lit by lanterns 
  or some other means, such as magic, so as to be 
  readable by night, except during instances when 
  local authorities specifically decree otherwise, 
  such as during a war.
   
  Other kinds of businesses might choose to 
  have such signs, or might be governed by local 
  guild rules or trade agreements in their signage. 
  Almost all businesses do have signs, though not 
  MICHAEL KOMARCK
  A coach means noble or even royal cargo. Some folk say they wave like that to keep the flies off.
  
  Chapter 2
  60
  all businesses use out-thrust signboards. Some 
  businesses, particularly crafters, have flush-to-
  the-wall signs mounted over their doors. In all 
  cases, the Crown (acting through local lords or 
  through Purple Dragon commanders in rural 
  areas where there is no local lord) has instant and 
  final say over the size, shape, content, and loca-
  tion of all such signage. Location, in this context, 
  means “how much the sign thrusts out into or 
  over the road, creating a hazard for high-loaded 
  wagons and coaches.”
   
  Local heralds have a duty to inspect and order 
  any necessary changes to all such signage on the 
  grounds of infringing on heraldry or mislead-
  ing the public as to the nature of the business 
  (not, however, on the grounds of good taste). The 
  High Heralds can override local heralds, who 
  can in turn override the tastes of a local lord or 
  his agents. This gives citizens a route of appeal if 
  their lord just doesn’t like giant carved wooden 
  boots or candles hanging from chains out over the 
  street he rides down, for instance.
   
  It would be foolish for shopkeepers to pick a 
  fight with their local lord, who has many ways 
  of getting back at them, if he chooses. However, 
  there is a strict prohibition on local lords harming 
  businesses or crafters by denying them one sign 
  after another, and in the past, local lords have 
  been removed and publicly disgraced for doing 
  so, most notably Onslur Gelnwood of Wheloon in 
  the last few years of the reign of Rhigaerd I, and 
  Caltath Malurt of Waymoot in the second year of 
  Azoun IV’s rule.
  Quality of Goods
  Tax collectors and all traveling Crown officials 
  and courtiers have clear, easy, and confidential 
  channels through which to complain about bad 
  beer and similar shortcomings in inns and tav-
  erns. They can, for instance, speak to any Purple 
  Dragon barracks commander, to any local lord 
  or bailiff of a local lord, to any War Wizard, or to 
  the Desk of Justice in the Royal Court of Suzail. 
  Every one of these “complain to” persons can also 
  make complaints from his or her own observa-
  tions, or on behalf of any citizen. 
   
  All complaints are ultimately routed to the 
  Desk of Justice, which is really a room rather than 
  a desk, and has nothing at all to do with Black 
  Robes or judicial proceedings. Rather, it is a small 
  band of undercover inspectors run by a High-
  knight (a person who serves the royal family as a 
  personal enforcer, spy, or envoy) and escorted by 
  War Wizards and Highknights when it seems nec-
  essary for safety’s sake. These inspectors have the 
  power to close a kitchen or taps on the spot, con-
  fiscate or destroy food, yank Crown licenses, and 
  effectively shut down a business for as long as it 
  takes to fix it—even if that is forever. They rarely 
  have to do so, these days; their mere appearance 
  awes many patrons and frightens most hostelry 
  owners bone white.
   
  However, there aren’t specific qualities set 
  down in laws. The Desk tries to prevent poi-
  sonings, disease, and (the most important and 
  prevalent part of their work) daily deception.
   
  If you are promised a tankard of ale, there’s an 
  expectation that the tankard will be large enough 
  to have a handle you can fit all the fingers of one 
  hand through. In addition, the inside of the tan-
  kard should have a fillable depth that descends 
  at least two finger widths below that handle and 
  at least one above, and that space should be wide 
  enough that all fingers of one hand, squeezed 
  together tightly, can be thrust down into the 
  tankard. This indeed means drinkers with huge 
  hands should be given larger tankards, or more 
  ale in other containers, per drink paid for. For 
  everyone, it means no miniature “toy tankards,” 
  and no vessels that are only two inches deep, 
  from lip to the “bell,” or inside bottom. Similarly, 
  if you are promised mutton or goose eggs or ale 
  from Arabel, what you are served should be just 
  that, not something else passed off as what was 
  promised.
  Labeling and Levies
  In the ports of Suzail and Marsember, guilds 
  insist on and try to enforce strict labeling and pre-
  cise identification of goods, so “Malaxan’s Best 
  Brew” won’t be barrels of whatever Sembia sends 
  labeled as such, but will always be beer actually 
  brewed by the person named Malaxan, in the 
  same place, and to more or less the same recipe. 
  It should also really be what he considers his best, 
  and not “mixed-bottom-barrel dregs slop Sembi-
  ans won’t drink, so we’ll ship it to Cormyr, where 
  all they can taste is horse dung, so they’ll never 
  know the difference.” Which is why you can buy 
  really cheap, bitter, horrible ale called “Sembian 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  61
  Odds” at some dockside taverns; it really is mixed 
  “odds and ends” from barrels, which is fine be-
  cause it is identified as such.
   
  No direct taxes are assessed on the sale of 
  ale, wine, and spirits to patrons in a tavern, but 
  the businesses that produce such drinkables are 
  taxed, both as businesses and at 1 cp per bar-
  rel (up to 1 sp for the largest tuns, so making the 
  barrel larger doesn’t allow a brewer to escape “the 
  Crown’s take”). Small beer made at home is never 
  taxed, and local brews are never taxed if they are 
  drunk only by the brewers or their neighbors. 
  However, if drink is ever put into a barrel and 
  transported elsewhere (outside town, as opposed 
  to one street over in the same municipality), the 
  barrel tax applies.
   
  In Arabel, Marsember, and Suzail, all produc-
  ers of strong drink, such as alcoholic beverages, 
  “physics,” and “cordials” (medicines) are taxed, 
  except for what family and table guests consume 
  in their own houses. Individuals who try to evade 
  this tax by running taverns or drinking clubs in 
  their homes get swift visits from the Desk of Jus-
  tice, the tax collectors, the Watch, and everyone 
  else. This attention includes War Wizards mind-
  reading them to determine their true intent and 
  the extent of their activities, because there’s an 
  ever-present “wary watch” for smuggling. They 
  will be taxed as businesses or hassled out of such 
  behavior back to serving just themselves, family 
  members, and a handful of dinner guests.
  SENTENCING THE 
  GUILTY
  Even where clearly codified laws exist, sentences 
  are generally at the discretion of the ruler. For in-
  stance, the king can let a guilty party go free, or 
  allow the individual to perform some task rather 
  than enduring the usual punishment. Likewise, 
  the king can decide that nobles, rather than being 
  flogged and imprisoned, must pay huge fines.
   
  As a rule, no place that thrives on trade (such 
  as Waterdeep, Scornubel, or Athkatla) will dare 
  allow open bribery or flawed justice. Any rig-
  ging of results must be done behind the scenes 
  rather than in public. For instance, you could 
  avoid someone’s being brought to trial, or ar-
  range a prisoner escape. Also, places that survive 
  on trade almost always have clearly codified laws, 
  separate-from-the-authorities judges (such as 
  the Magisters of Waterdeep), and arrangements 
  to let guilds partially punish their own members 
  (lessening the court sentence in return for guild 
  sanctions). A common belief that visiting mer-
  chants will be treated equally to residents and 
  citizens must be fostered and maintained . . . or 
  the merchants will stop coming.
   
  In many places, magisters or their equivalents, 
  guilds, and priests all have the right to call on the 
  aid of spells to determine truth and falsehood, 
  though who pays for this service varies widely 
  from jurisdiction to jurisdiction. In most places, 
  royalty and nobility have rights or privileges oth-
  ers in the society don’t have.
   
  Trial by combat is rarely allowed in “trade 
  reigns” places, but might occur in places of rural 
  “rough justice” or in communities dominated by a 
  faith that allows such activity, such as in a hamlet 
  around a temple. In Sembia and some other civi-
  lized places, battle between hired champions—or 
  even personal dueling—is often a public enter-
  tainment used in cases when a noble feels slighted 
  by another noble, or when a young woman of 
  high birth who hasn’t yet wed is accused of being 
  of less than good character, and wants to refute 
  the slur.
   
  Most places in the Realms have nothing resem-
  bling real-world libel and slander laws. Also, aside 
  from prohibitions against copying or counterfeit-
  ing the words of royalty or nobility, or the decrees 
  of magisters or guildmasters, nothing really ap-
  proaching modern real-world copyright law exists 
  in the Realms.
   
  The Realms does not have lawyers, robed and 
  wigged or otherwise. There are some “advocates,” 
  paid orators who will speak in court (always in 
  the presence of an accused, not appearing in their 
  stead) and who might know something of the law 
  and can give advice to an accused. Some advo-
  cates are real performers who mimic the voices 
  of people, act out scenes, tell jokes, and engage 
  in furious debate in court—which, being great 
  entertainment, is seldom cut short even by angry 
  judges or rulers, because the commoners like it.
  Seized Goods
  In actual practice, rulers or their officials have 
  almost complete discretion over what happens 
  to items found in the possession of an accused. 
  
  Chapter 2
  62
  This blanket power is tempered by public 
  scrutiny—usually supported by vigilant local 
  clergy—reinforcing general principles that are 
  actual law in some places, but merely prevailing 
  opinion or tradition in others.
   
  These principles include the following 
  strictures.
   
  — Identifiable stolen items should be freely 
  returned to their owners, not kept or sold by the 
  government.
   
  — In peacetime, there should be clear and 
  tight limits on what authorities can confiscate 
  as evidence or suspected stolen goods. For ex-
  ample, if a thief has been storing stolen goods in 
  a dockside warehouse used by many individuals, 
  the authorities have the right to search the entire 
  building and examine everything, but not to con-
  fiscate all contents of the warehouse just because 
  they believe some of the contents were stolen.
   
  — Magical things need to be thoroughly ex-
  amined (and probably kept) by the authorities. 
  However, local officials have an obligation to 
  “hunt it all out,” and when it has been examined, 
  tell local citizens the whole truth about what 
  magic was found, where it came from, and what it 
  was intended for.
   
  — Any hint of undead in a settled area is to be 
  treated like magic: hunted out, destroyed, and the 
  whole truth told, locally.
   
  — Law keepers who find and seize anything 
  should not be allowed to personally keep it—oth-
  erwise, they would have a strong incentive to 
  misuse their office for personal gain.
   
  — Contraband should be publicly and 
  promptly sold by the government, not destroyed 
  or kept by government officials.
   
  — Any investigation that disrupts the com-
  munity (arrests, prolonged questioning, searches, 
  and seizures of goods, for example) should even-
  tually be explained fully to the community. 
  Authorities have very few justifiable grounds 
  for not telling citizens anything they ask about 
  (though “the king’s will” is a justifiable ground).
   
  — Disputes over what happens to property 
  must be resolved in public, not behind closed 
  doors.
  Some governments are swift to confiscate land, 
  buildings, and everything owned by certain sorts 
  of criminals, but in other lands or city-states, such 
  action would bring swift and strong protest from 
  the citizenry. Different lands have varying gov-
  ernments and likewise differing popular attitudes 
  regarding the presumption of guilt.
   
  For instance, in Cormyr no one’s lands or 
  buildings can be seized until royal assent has been 
  given, in the wake of a formal sentence. How-
  ever, in Calaunt, Mulmaster, or Westgate, if a 
  high-ranking official believes someone is guilty, 
  seizures can occur well before the person has 
  been tried—and some individuals deemed mis-
  creants just disappear, never getting a public trial 
  at all.
   
  In Chessenta until the mid-1320s DR, city rul-
  ers customarily arrested persons they disliked, 
  then, even if they were not charged with crimes, 
  let them escape with armed agents of the ruler in 
  hot pursuit. If caught, the person was slain on the 
  spot. The ruler then took the individual’s worldly 
  goods, leaving the family of the “dangerous recre-
  ant” destitute. If the fleeing recreant successfully 
  got away (the agents would not pursue beyond the 
  borders of the city’s territory), it was deemed the 
  will of the gods that the person escape. Although 
  all of the recreant’s property was forfeit, the ruler 
  would ignore him henceforth, rather than sending 
  more agents after him.
   
  This Chessentan custom faded into dis-
  use thanks to the strongest nonviolent force for 
  change in the civilized Realms, one that speaks 
  ever more loudly as the years pass: traveling mer-
  chants. They publicly expressed their disapproval 
  of such cruelty, calling it proof that rulers who 
  engaged in this activity were corrupt and, as the 
  shipping fleet owner Rarl Tartassan of Arrabar 
  said, “placed no value on the rule of law, and the 
  keeping of one’s bond.” Most important, the mer-
  chants threatened to stay away from the domains 
  of such rulers. This resistance was mounted on an 
  individual basis, not in any united effort. When 
  several city lords scoffed, claiming that merchants 
  were such “craven slaves to coin” that if one chose 
  not to ship or bring goods to a place, a rival would 
  inevitably do so, the rejoinder was that a city de-
  pending on lone peddlers would fall far behind 
  others. Surprisingly, so it proved, and the rulers 
  gave in.
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  63
  THOSE WHO 
  ENFORCE
  In any society, there is a broad area between 
  the laws on the rolls and their daily, actual, on-
  the-ground enforcement. For instance, Purple 
  Dragons in dangerous-due-to-monsters-and-brig-
  ands rural areas of Cormyr, far from the niceties 
  of Suzail, are like a lot of rural law enforcers in 
  the Dales and elsewhere in Faerûn. They often 
  throw people in cells overnight to cool them off, 
  but for all but the most serious crimes, rather 
  than charge and hold miscreants and send word 
  for officials to come and try them, they’re quite 
  apt to scare the offenders and beat them up (with 
  bare fists), then send them on their way with 
  growls of “Don’t come here and try such foolish-
  ness again!”
   
  Most such rural and small-town law officers 
  are wily, salt-of-the-earth, cunning (but not nec-
  essarily corrupt) veterans who won’t easily be 
  caught in ambushes or duped. They know the 
  local terrain and hiding places and are aware 
  of residents who are crooked and might fence 
  stolen goods. There are no haughty, I-never-get-
  my-hands-dirty “high-nosed city brightcloaks” 
  among them.
  The Watch of Waterdeep
  Cities tend to have more polite and disciplined, 
  but sometimes markedly less effective, law of-
  ficers than smaller communities do. Perhaps the 
  best of these police forces is the famous Watch of 
  Waterdeep, some details of which follow. These 
  points can be used as a model for Watch behavior 
  elsewhere.
   
  Waterdhavian Watch officers always wear 
  uniforms when on patrol, and carry both weap-
  ons and horns with which to summon aid. Aid 
  is usually in the form of other Watch patrols, but 
  specific horn calls can summon Watchful Order 
  magists or soldiers from Waterdeep’s small stand-
  ing army, the City Guard, as well. (The City 
  Guard operates much as the Watch does, with 
  differences and exceptions noted in the following 
  material.)
   
  Members of the Watch customarily address 
  male citizens as “goodsir,” except for persons 
  they know to be Waterdhavian nobility, whom 
  they call “gentlesir.” Every veteran Watch officer 
  knows at least the top people and the heirs of all 
  Waterdhavian noble families on sight, plus the 
  troublemakers. Mixed-gender noble groups are 
  addressed as “gentles.”
   
  Commoner women are “goodwives” unless 
  young, whereupon they become “goodlasses.” 
  Young commoner men are usually called “jacks” 
  or “my jacks,” as in: “What befalls? Hold and de-
  liver truth, my jacks!”
   
  “Hold!” meaning “Freeze,” “Down arms!” 
  meaning “Drop your weapons,” and “Talk 
  truth!” meaning “Answer me” are frequent Watch 
  commands.
   
  When Watchmen address officers of supe-
  rior rank, “sir” is the all-purpose formal form 
  of address. “Sorn” is an added term of respect, 
  somewhere between “trusted” and “worthy” in 
  meaning, and is applied thus: “Sorn sir.”
   
  “Sorn” is also used by higher ranks addressing 
  lower ranks, but instead of “sir,” it’s added (or not 
  added, if the speaker is grumpy or disapproving 
  or merely bored) before the word “trusty.”
   
  In most daily situations, when not in front of a 
  lord or palace official, Watch officers tend to ig-
  nore rank formalities when their ranks are similar. 
  A Watch patrol leader would think something was 
  wrong, or he was being mocked, if members of 
  his own patrol started calling him “sir” or “sorn 
  sir,” and so would a senior commander, if officers 
  one rank lower than him did the same thing. This 
  is due in part to the practice, almost universal 
  in the Watch, of carefully being very formal and 
  polite when you think your superior is making a 
  mistake, breaking the rules, or just being an “ox-
  haunch” (behaving like a jackass). In other words, 
  members of the Watch clearly indicate their dis-
  approval by tone and excessive formality without 
  actually saying a single word of disagreement.
   
  It’s important to note that the Watch places 
  far more importance on diligent behavior while 
  on duty than on matters of etiquette. There’s 
  little or no discipline (beyond a sharp comment) 
  for missing a salute or stumbling over another 
  officer’s title. The Watch prides itself on being 
  family—albeit a gruff, ungentle “slap-on-the-
  back, mock-one’s-fellows” family—and not what 
  one Masked Lord once publicly called the City 
  Guard: “a bunch of sniff-nosed, post-headed 
  warriors.”
  
  Chapter 2
  64
   
  Watch patrols in the streets of the city are eight 
  to twelve persons strong. The smaller patrols are 
  used in North Ward and Sea Ward, whereas Dock 
  Ward and South Ward patrols are always a dozen 
  strong. Inside the palace and the City of the 
  Dead, patrols of pairs and trios are the norm.
   
  Whenever trouble is known or expected, pa-
  trols will be enlarged as well as reinforced by 
  “duty” Watchful Order magists and volunteering 
  local priests.
   
  If the Watch is operating in an area that can 
  be overlooked from a readily accessible publicly 
  owned vantage point, extra Watch officers will 
  be stationed on high to watch the movements of 
  suspects and Watch patrols, directing the Watch 
  by means of horn blasts and messengers. Good 
  vantage points include the battlements of Castle 
  Waterdeep, any wall tower, the balconies of the 
  palace, the roofs of barracks, and the roofs of the 
  surprisingly large array of city-owned (and seized 
  for unpaid taxes, but not yet resold) buildings. 
  In daylight, griffonback riders of the City Guard 
  help perform this function if a riot or chase is 
  developing.
  Salutes: Gestures of Respect
  The City Guard salutes often, usually with a 
  raised weapon, but Watchmen seldom do so.
   
  There are some little-used formal and cer-
  emonial salutes, but the most common salute 
  performed by a Waterdhavian Watch officer is 
  done to indicate respect for someone’s judgment, 
  prowess at arms, or bravery. It’s accomplished by 
  drawing to attention, looking at the person to be 
  honored, and, while doing so, sharply rapping the 
  hilt of a sheathed weapon (usually a belt dagger) 
  with one closed fist.
   
  To any of superior rank within the Watch, a 
  Watchman salutes by tapping his temple smartly 
  with an upraised, vertical forefinger.
   
  The reply (the salute to an inferior) is identical 
  if the superior officer desires to convey profound 
  respect or gratitude. Otherwise, the superior offi-
  cer bends both arms at the elbow and holds them 
  in front of him. The right hand he curls into a 
  fist. The left he holds flat with the fingers pressed 
  together, the pinkie side facing downward, in 
  what we might call a karate chop. Then he takes 
  his right fist and lowers it to strike the fingers of 
  his left hand gently. The fist touches just once, 
  bouncing off the fingers.
   
  In sharp contrast, members of the City Guard 
  of Waterdeep, militia, and hired mercenaries for-
  mally fighting for the city salute all the time. This 
  act is typically done by raising an upright, vertical 
  sword toward the person being saluted. Another 
  common salute, almost always used when ad-
  dressing officers of superior rank, is executed by 
  touching the fist gripping the sword to one’s fore-
  head, then moving it outward a few inches toward 
  the person being saluted.
   
  This movement also serves as a covert salute 
  between Watchmen, used in an exaggerated, 
  not-trying-to-hide way by officers who are not 
  certain of the rank of the person they’re salut-
  ing. This salute starts with one’s right hand held 
  at belt level, with the palm facing one’s stomach 
  and the fingers pointed toward the belt buckle. 
  The heel of the hand should touch the belt. Then, 
  the fingers come together and tap the belt once, 
  as if patting one’s own belly. If this gesture is im-
  mediately followed by a move to scratch one’s own 
  left shoulder, it’s really a covert signal that means 
  “Hi, there! I’ve got trouble, big trouble, and need 
  you to stay and confer with me. Contrive to get 
  close to me in some unobtrusive manner, so we 
  can talk.” If the scratching is at waist level rather 
  than on the left shoulder, it means “Get out of 
  here right now, but don’t make an obvious exit. 
  I’ll catch up to you and explain.”
  Salary and Other Benefits
  The Watch gives a soldier 25 gp upon joining, 
  plus a free uniform, a pair of boots, training, and 
  one weapon. If a member of the Watch is dis-
  missed without completing training, everything 
  must be returned except for 12 gp.
   
  After a soldier is mustered in, free room and 
  board is assigned to him or her at a Watch bar-
  racks. This benefit includes a bunk, a small beer, 
  simple meal fare, bath access, and weapon oil. 
  This room and board need not be accepted—and 
  it can be taken on a casual “feel like it tonight” 
  basis. In addition, members of the Watch get 1 gp 
  per day, whether they are on active duty or not, 
  plus 4 sp per patrol. The day is divided into three 
  slightly overlapping shifts, and normally each 
  Watch member is responsible for only one shift 
  per day. Officers receive the same 1 gp a day, but 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  65
  they also take in 5 sp, 7 sp, or 1 gp per patrol, de-
  pending on rank.
   
  A replacement uniform, replacement boots, 
  and an additional weapon are given to each 
  member of the Watch once per year. All other 
  uniforms, boots, and weapons must be paid for 
  out of one’s salary. Additional weapons and gear 
  are often issued free of charge out of the armory 
  for use during patrols, but this gear and weaponry 
  must be returned or replaced.
  Conduct and Misconduct
  Watch members found guilty of crimes or mis-
  behavior are often fined by the Watch as well as 
  punished under law. Dismissal and imprison-
  ment apply to the most egregious offenses. On the 
  other extreme, distinguished service often earns 
  handsome retirement bonuses from the Lords, 
  sometimes even including pieces of outlying land 
  or an in-city building.
  Uniforms, Old and New
  Both the Guard and the Watch have worn a 
  variety of uniforms over the years, and senior 
  members who desire to wear their older uniforms 
  are usually allowed to do so, even if the garb is of 
  a different style. Thus, several uniforms can be in 
  use at the same time, in the same patrol.
   
  Since the mid-1300s DR onward, the City 
  Guard’s dress uniform has been silver plate armor 
  with black cloaks and boots, silver helms, and 
  breastplates decorated with the arms of Water-
  deep. Above the arms is a horizontal row of small 
  right-hand gauntlets, fingers pointed upward. 
  These gauntlets denote rank: one for trusty, two 
  for vigilant, and so on. A long gauntlet clutching a 
  drawn sword is used for ranks of commander and 
  higher.
   
  The Watch wears a suit of chainmail with a 
  blue surcoat emblazed with a simplified version 
  of the “crescent moon reflected in the water” 
  arms of Waterdeep on the breast and back—a 
  crest more commonly known as the double moon. 
  Members additionally wear helms, armored 
  boots, leather weapon belts and baldrics, and 
  leather gauntlets. If heavy fighting is expected, 
  they might borrow City Guard plate mail, but 
  they would never wear never their black cloaks 
  along with it. Occasionally Watch lads or lasses 
  will be sent undercover. In these cases, they will 
  wear plain, well-worn leather armor (“jacks”), 
  leather boots, and leather breeches of a variety of 
  hues (and usually mismatched).
   
  In a barracks, one might see a member of 
  the Watch in “undress” uniform. This consists 
  of a “grayweave” (cotton, dyed gray) tunic that 
  extends to the wrists, ankle-length grayweave 
  breeches, and a white surcoat emblazoned on the 
  breast with a gray, right-hand gauntlet with the 
  fingers pointed up and the arms of Waterdeep 
  stitched in black on the palm.
  The Tantran Watch
  In contrast to the bare-faced, recognizable 
  trusties of the Waterdhavian Watch is the cudgel-
  wielding Watch of the Dragon Reach port city of 
  Tantras. The Tantran Watch is typical of city law 
  enforcers around the Sea of Fallen Stars (with the 
  exception of Cormyr, Sembia, and Aglarond).
   
  The Tantran Watch works masked. This tactic 
  helps keep the identities of the Watchmen secret, 
  which in turn helps prevent reprisals and attempts 
  to influence them. The Tantran Watch mounts 
  frequent street, dockside, and tavern patrols to 
  keep order, arresting persons who draw steel, 
  wound others, or start fires, and ejecting the un-
  ruly from taverns and clubs onto the street.
   
  Tantran Watch patrols are a dozen strong, and 
  use noisy three-rattling-brass-cup alarm gongs 
  they carry on their belts to summon reinforce-
  ments. In peacetime, when there’s no known peril 
  inside the city or outside the walls (such as rival 
  ships’ crews both in port at the same time, lots 
  of traders cramming the city, or—gasp!—adven-
  turers passing through), minimal patrols apply. 
  These are scaled up in frequency and strength if 
  murders or thefts-and-chases occur, gongs are 
  rung, or known perils are present.
   
  There are seven Watch barracks around the 
  city: a central citadel (which consists of the ar-
  mory, the jail, and the courthouse) and six smaller 
  posts, which each have jail cells, a ready room, 
  and a tiny armory. From these bases, the twelve-
  member Watch patrols pass along the main streets 
  and make the “inside-the-walls walk” about once 
  an hour, twice an hour at dawn and dusk. In ad-
  dition, two roaming patrols take varying routes 
  through alleys and side streets during the dark 
  hours, moving right across the city. Patrols carry 
  shuttered lanterns, cudgels, grappling hooks and 
  
  Chapter 2
  66
  lines (mainly used for fishing drunks out of the 
  harbor before they drown), capture nets, and 
  manacles. They’ve been known to shackle miscre-
  ants to handy hitching rings and leave them there 
  while pursuing other suspects.
   
  All dockside streets and red-lantern areas re-
  ceive heavy patrols, as do the lanes around certain 
  warehouses (to prevent thefts, arson, and smug-
  gling). Heavy patrolling means that patrols go by 
  about every ten minutes, at irregular intervals. 
  Taverns and inns receive almost as much atten-
  tion (about once every fifteen to twenty minutes).
   
  Temples are policed only lightly by the Tantran 
  Watch, because clergy are assumed to have do-
  minion over their own grounds and buildings.
  Temple Guards
  If a temple anywhere in the Realms is large or 
  grand enough, its guards might well be com-
  manded by a paladin. Priests of most churches 
  can call on paladins to render appropriate-to-the-
  faith military aid whenever the need arises; as a 
  general rule, however, paladins work out in the 
  world to defend believers and further the faith. 
  Few of them do guard duty in a temple, except on 
  special occasions such as particular holy rites, or 
  presiding over the choosing of a new high priest in 
  controversial circumstances. Most temple guards 
  are accomplished or at least disciplined warriors 
  who devoutly believe in their deity, and who are 
  closely supervised by priests of the temple. They 
  might be trained and occasionally tested by pala-
  dins and might possess unusual skills.
   
  Most temples have a few novice guards, too. 
  These are commonly less accomplished indi-
  viduals who have more enthusiasm than skill. 
  Adventurers be warned: Only in tavern tales are 
  clergy foolish enough to let such novices guard 
  anything without veteran guards working along-
  side them and commanding them.
   
  Quite a few temples have war dogs or beasts as-
  sociated with their deity as trained or “wild but 
  penned into an area intruders are forced or lured 
  into” guardians. Moreover, the storage vaults of 
  some faiths feature deliberately created undead 
  sentinels.
  Lighting Keeps the Peace
  Crime is greatly reduced by good illumination at 
  night in cities across the Realms. Suzail, the capi-
  tal of Cormyr, is typical of most Heartlands cities 
  in this respect. Its streets are lit by oil lamps, 
  candle lamps, and a few abandoned, experimen-
  tal “lit candles floating in oil” hybrids. All of its 
  lamps are set in metal cages and look like the larg-
  est coach lamps from the fog-bound London of 
  Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper. The lamps 
  are most often mounted on the walls of stone 
  buildings in black, cast-iron brackets; they are lit 
  when the sun sinks low enough that the western 
  arc of the city wall casts shadows across the near-
  est streets.
   
  The coverage of their illumination is very good 
  along the Promenade and in the area north of the 
  Promenade and west of the palace complex (the 
  neighborhood of most nobles and the wealthi-
  est citizens). There, the lamps are almost all on 
  free-standing metal poles about twice the height 
  of a large covered coach. These are still known lo-
  cally as “posts” even though the tree trunks they 
  were formerly fashioned from fell out of use in the 
  1270s DR.
   
  Street lighting is fairly good down the east 
  wall, where the barracks are, and along the docks. 
  The illumination in this area enables Suzail’s port 
  to work at night—as it does when trade activity 
  warrants, which is most of the time. On the other 
  hand, street lighting is sparse in the central heart 
  of the city where only some major streets are lit, 
  and the taverns and clubs tend to have door lamps 
  (there’s not much else open and lit in the dark 
  hours). In the slums and poor neighborhoods, the 
  lighting is near nonexistent, lending the western 
  part of the city the name “Darkstreets.”
   
  Businesses fuel and light their own lamps, 
  leading to lanterns of all sorts mounted in a great 
  variety of ways on walls (which must always be 
  stone, by Suzail’s civic laws). Most are on pulleys 
  and chains so they can be drawn up to a window 
  (by means of a long metal hook mounted on a 
  wooden pole) for filling and lighting. The trick is 
  that they must be gently let go again, not left to 
  fall and swing, to prevent them from smashing 
  against the building wall on the backswing. Other 
  lanterns are filled and lit by being unhooked and 
  pulled down to ground level with hooked poles, 
  and a very few are lowered to the ground by way 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  67
  of pulleys and chains (in areas where recurring 
  vandalism has occurred).
   
  The inner wall lamps, Promenade lamps, 
  nobles’ district lamps, port lamps, and barracks 
  lamps are lit by hired lamplighters employed 
  solely for that purpose and overseen by Crown 
  officials. These officials are minor courtiers nu-
  merous enough to form lighting crews if the 
  hirelings fall ill, quit, or are too scared to light 
  lamps in particular locations. The Crown pays for 
  the fuel, lamp repairs, and replacement lamps as 
  required.
   
  These lamps are all of the sort you pull down 
  with hooked poles, and they are all secured with 
  safety chains rigged in opposition to each other so 
  they can’t blow down from their hooks. In daily 
  practice these Crown lamps are almost always 
  left where they hang and filled directly by work-
  ers standing on platforms built atop tall wagons. 
  These wagons are locked away in sheds when not 
  in use to prevent thieves from making dark uses 
  of them at night. However, if the proper one-day 
  Crown permits are purchased, private citizens can 
  rent the wagons for roofing repairs, sign-hanging, 
  and other tasks not related to lamplighting.
   
  Many Suzailan private residences have a lamp 
  in a window, on the inside sill, so its light shines 
  forth into the street below. These are often used 
  as signals, such as private merchants indicating to 
  customers that they’re home and open for busi-
  ness, family members telling each other dinner 
  is ready, and a myriad of personal messages of 
  other sorts.
  PACTS AND 
  ALLIANCES
  Common folk across the Realms are vaguely 
  aware of the formal treaties and pacts between 
  nearby lands and city-states, and slightly more 
  aware of the blood ties forged by marriages 
  among nobility, rulers, and wealthy and powerful 
  families. They know the traditional alliances and 
  hatreds.
   
  For instance, it is widely known that there’s 
  no love lost between Cormyr and Sembia, or 
  between Cormyr and Westgate, but that Cor-
  myr has always allied with any of the Dales that 
  wanted such friendly relations. It is also known 
  that Archendale has never wanted Cormyr’s 
  friendship, Scardale recently repudiated Cormyr, 
  and Harrowdale and Featherdale have increas-
  ingly slid under Sembian sway and become cooler 
  to Cormyrean offers and embassies. Also, it is 
  widely thought that Cormyr’s overtures to the 
  Dales are meant to keep Sembia from swallowing 
  all the land between the Thunder Peaks and the 
  Dragon Reach, and thereby controlling eastward 
  overland trade.
   
  General truths aside, in any open conflict 
  commoners are often surprised at the alliances 
  and agreements their rulers make—sometimes 
  breaking with tradition, making foes into allies 
  or at least neutral parties, and rebuffing friendly 
  realms, and complicating everything.
   
  The wealthy and powerful, who have trading 
  partners, kin, agents, and spies in distant places 
  whom they can afford to communicate with often, 
  have always known more of trends and forth-
  coming policies than the everyday shopkeeper or 
  farmer. However, the steady increase in reach, 
  wealth, and traveling of merchants over the last 
  five centuries has elevated some heads of caravan 
  costers and guildmasters to the level of the nobil-
  ity in terms of influence and awareness.
   
  There have always been dynastic families 
  seeking to hold onto thrones, and there have al-
  ways been rivals seeking to supplant them. For 
  example, in Cormyr, the Obarskyrs have been 
  challenged for centuries by the Bleths, the Cor-
  maerils, and others. Cormyr has one of the very 
  few ruling families that have clung to power in a 
  nigh-unbroken line; most lands in Faerûn have 
  suffered usurpers and heirs-in-waiting vying with 
  rebels and rival claimants—both real and false—
  for the throne.
   
  There are also very wealthy, sophisticated, 
  highly educated families, such as the Moareldril 
  in Amn, and the Cathmalar in Tethyr, who have 
  never wanted a throne or to stand behind one. 
  These families have always preferred to keep a 
  much lower public profile and manipulate rul-
  ers from the distant shadows, to their own great 
  benefit.
   
  Inevitably, those who desire to exploit or ma-
  nipulate humanity to their own benefit—notably 
  doppelgangers, illithids, and beholders—have 
  covertly sought out such families. An incursion 
  starts with the monsters seeking to ally with the 
  corrupt families, and ends with them slowly tak-
  ing control of the families, making them their 
  
  Chapter 2
  68
  human agents just as the families themselves use 
  others as their own human agents.
   
  There are almost always layers upon layers, 
  and intrigues within intrigues. As Piergeiron of 
  Waterdeep once said, “Matters of rulership in 
  the Realms are never simple. If ever you think 
  they are, there’s something you’ve missed. Look 
  behind you quickly, and if no dagger’s coming at 
  you, turn back and look again. Harder.”
   
  Adventurers are often used as the “extended 
  arms” of those who want to reach over the line of 
  law or treaty and do something a pact or contin-
  ued good relations constrains them from doing. 
  At the same time, it behooves wise adventurers to 
  know key details of pacts and alliances relevant in 
  the territory in which they’re adventuring.
   
  For example, the Lords’ Alliance has come 
  to trade agreements with every land along the 
  Sword Coast trade roads to let caravans travel 
  those roads without hindrance. Which means a 
  caravan under attack from brigands or outlaws 
  can expect armed law keepers to ride to their aid, 
  and caravan masters can expect border searches 
  and even confiscations or arrests if certain things 
  are found. Caravan masters can also expect that 
  borders will not be closed arbitrarily, and that 
  favoritism will not be shown to wayfarers of one 
  land or coster or faith over another. Law keepers 
  are pledged to help merchants get their beasts and 
  conveyances through a territory unscathed, and 
  they are not allowed to damage or seize (as op-
  posed to detain for investigation) such property. 
  For instance, even if locals are angry about or 
  frightened of a wagon that has heavily armed or 
  armored half-orc guards, law keepers are to keep 
  the peace, not themselves burn the wagon and 
  fight with the half-orcs—as often happened as re-
  cently as the 1200s DR, in Amn and Tethyr.
   
  These agreements are collectively known as 
  the Hand of the Open Road, and merchants are 
  quick to notify innkeepers, tavern masters, local 
  law keepers, and soldiers of the Hand of the Open 
  Road if they think they are being mistreated. 
  Quick-thinking adventurers who get themselves 
  hired as caravan guards, or acquire a wagon and 
  portray themselves as merchants, can call upon 
  law keepers in the name of the Hand of the Open 
  Road, too.
   
  Merchants engage in some speculative forays 
  entirely because one’s guildmaster (or simply a 
  friendly guildmaster) has come to an agreement 
  with a guildmaster at a shipment’s destination. 
  On the other hand, merchants should beware of 
  covert agreements between guildmasters to shut 
  out, underbid, or refuse to buy certain wares, 
  a tactic often used to try to keep independent 
  traders away from a lucrative market. Adventur-
  ers frequently find themselves hired to represent 
  merchants when such trouble is suspected—so 
  that it will be their necks, and not the merchants’, 
  if swords sing out or daggers are thrust in dark 
  alleys.
   
  All rulers twist the intent of pacts and alliances 
  to their advantage if they see more benefit than 
  loss in doing so, but they rarely out-and-out break 
  such agreements unless desperate. Such despera-
  tion might be the result of an orc horde coming, 
  the mountains suddenly erupting, or something 
  equally realm-shaking. 
   
  Some rulers, notably Alustriel in Silverymoon 
  and later the Silver Marches, Piergeiron in Wa-
  terdeep, and Azoun IV (and Vangerdahast and 
  Alusair the Silver Regent) in Cormyr, have long 
  memories and cold dealings for rulers who break 
  pacts. Which is why Calaunt, Hillsfar, Mulmas-
  ter, and Zhentil Keep were isolated for so much of 
  the 1300s DR. They broke pacts, so no one would 
  trust them, leaving them on their own—at least 
  until their rulers died or were replaced, and those 
  successors reached out with fresh offers, prom-
  ises, and reparations.
   
  It’s important to bear in mind that most rul-
  ers and other powerful folk like to “drink their 
  tankard and see it still full.” As such, many covert 
  trading deals and ongoing relationships break 
  pacts, with everyone involved turning a blind 
  eye. For instance, most Calishite satraps have 
  renounced slavery so as to deal with Athkatla, 
  Baldur’s Gate, and Waterdeep, all of which of-
  ficially refuse to trade with slavers and those who 
  harbor slavers. However, almost all of those same 
  satraps sell persons who cross them into slavery 
  and trade in slaves through so-called “outlaws” 
  whom they bankroll. To avoid having Calim-
  shan erupt in civil war and establish feuds that 
  could last for centuries, satraps who find them-
  selves in fierce disagreement with each other fight 
  duels by pitting their “staff adventurers” against 
  each other.
   
  Most successful merchants know about such 
  deviations—or survive learning about them the 
  hard way. Traders daily worry about the shadowy 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  69
  web of far smaller but more numerous pacts: the 
  quiet agreements that have been reached between 
  various small local cabals and independent mer-
  chants and larger, regional cabals. These pacts 
  run along the lines of “No one shall bid on the 
  ferry contract for the Dawndeeping Stream ex-
  cept a merchant of the Blue Stone” or “Where 
  offers are substantially the same, House Hardusk-
  ing will prevail over House Rathrune,” to use two 
  west-country Sembian examples.
  Crown Agents
  Every ruler has formal envoys and ambassadors 
  who travel the Realms constantly, engaging in 
  formal diplomacy. Almost all rulers also have un-
  official representatives, investigators and “trouble 
  fixers” who do the daily (and nightly) dirty work 
  to keep the ruler on the throne.
   
  Every city-state or ruler employs more than 
  just outside-the-law hired agents such as outland 
  adventuring gangs, dupes, scapegoats, and armed 
  “heavies.” They also employ ongoing, loyal se-
  cret agents who investigate murders, conspiracies, 
  crimes, and incipient treason. The Highknights 
  and the War Wizards of Cormyr are famous ex-
  amples, but even as small a place as the way-town 
  of Tagarath has its secret agents.
   
  Tagarath stands on the trade road between Ri-
  atavin and the Vilhon, right where the road fords 
  the Shining Stream, and is too small to appear on 
  most maps. Tagarath has a “crownar” (mayor); a 
  council made up of the eight most powerful local 
  merchants; and a police force, the Riders, who pa-
  trol the town and its environs and jail drunkards 
  and those who do violence. Yet it also has seven 
  elderly retired local women who seemingly sit 
  and do nothing all day but are actually the paid 
  “watchers” of (spies for) the crownar.
   
  Crownar Orth Haelen is old, fat, and infirm, 
  and for the past decade, his daughter Alaya has 
  seen to the daily running of Tagarath. Alaya is 
  both cynical and a keen observer of the world, 
  and long ago she decided to put her three boy-
  friends and two younger sisters on the public 
  purse as the “hand behind her back.” They regu-
  larly slay Zhents or other agents who try to linger 
  in Tagarath, peer into what merchants who stop 
  over are carrying, steal (or steal back) items when 
  it becomes necessary, eliminate doppelgangers 
  and other sinister threats to the local population, 
  spy on potential Rider recruits to learn their true 
  character, and deal with adventurers—to make 
  sure those who think they can easily overwhelm 
  the Riders and rule by the sword think again.
   
  Tagarath and many other places in the Realms 
  have tax spies and tax collectors, the first of which 
  peek and the second of which come to collect, ac-
  companied by trained war dogs for defense and 
  for catching those who prefer fleeing to paying.
  The War Wizards of Cormyr
  The Forest Kingdom is famous—and widely 
  feared—for its state force of wizards, which de-
  fends and informs the Dragon Throne. The War 
  Wizards are the ultimate “not-secret” police, a 
  self-governing force that spies on everyone in 
  Cormyr, from the Obarskyrs to night-soil carters, 
  to try to uncover threats to the throne before they 
  truly imperil the stability of the kingdom. 
   
  Cormyr is thought of by many in the Realms as 
  a shining bulwark of peaceful, law-abiding pros-
  perity. It certainly strives to be, but behind the 
  bright exterior of green forests, verdant farms, 
  fluttering banners, and Purple Dragons in shin-
  ing armor are dark and ever-present threats. 
  Arabel and Marsember are both conquered cities 
  that frequently stir into near rebellion, and nobles 
  all over Cormyr test the authority of the ruling 
  Obarskyrs all the time.
   
  Without the Wizards of War—and an ener-
  getic, wise, strong-willed person at their head, like 
  Vangerdahast—Cormyr would have been plunged 
  into civil war scores of times, or (in the words of 
  the sage Alaphondar) “leaped into civil strife with 
  savage eagerness, and never left that bloody state 
  until no one was left who could stand and swing a 
  sword.”
   
  In Cormyr, nobles personally swear loyalty 
  to both the sovereign when they come of age, by 
  name, and in the presence of the monarch and the 
  Crown, pledging their persons to the defense of 
  the realm. Purple Dragons, lesser courtiers, and 
  minor officials of the realm swear to the Crown 
  and the Dragon Throne before no less than three 
  ranking courtiers and the Royal Magician, or a 
  member of the Obarskyrs plus a court sage. In 
  time of war, battlefield oaths are acceptable be-
  fore three serving Purple Dragons and a Purple 
  Dragon officer of the rank of ornrion or higher. 
  Oaths are sworn when entering service, and might 
  
  Chapter 2
  70
  be redemanded (“reconfirmed”) at any time, at 
  the pleasure of the monarch or regent.
   
  Highknights and courtiers of rank take per-
  sonal oaths to the sovereign in the presence of 
  the sovereign; a priest of the swearer’s primary 
  faith; the Royal Magician; another member of 
  the Obarskyr family; or failing that, two persons 
  of royal noble families, a court sage, and a court 
  scribe.
   
  All of these oaths are renewed when a new sov-
  ereign or regent takes the Dragon Throne. War 
  Wizards swear before the Mage Royal, one War 
  Wizard, and a court scribe or a member of the 
  Obarskyr family. However, they can swear before 
  the second-in-command of the War Wizards, 
  three other War Wizards of at least twelve seasons 
  of service, and a court scribe. When the Mage 
  Royal and the Court Wizard are separate persons, 
  either will suffice. In the event that both offices 
  are vacant, any nine long-service War Wizards—
  so long as either one of the two highest-ranking 
  surviving War Wizards is included—can receive 
  the oath of loyalty.
   
  This oath of loyalty is informally and univer-
  sally known as the Handflame, because someone 
  accepting the oath before the court often con-
  jures up illusory flame around his or her hands 
  for dramatic effect, transferring it briefly to the 
  swearer’s hands as the accepter clasps the hands 
  of the swearer. This formality is usually dispensed 
  with in private. A War Wizard’s oath is taken only 
  once. Dismissal from the organization, for rea-
  sons of age, ill health, loss of desire to serve, or 
  unfitting conduct, is referred to as “release from 
  the oath.” The Handflame is always spoken from 
  memory, not recited by the accepter or a prompter 
  and repeated by the swearer. Its words are as 
  follows.
  I, [insert full formal name, without titles but in-
  cluding all given used names and aliases, and 
  truenames if the oath is taken in private], give my 
  service unfailingly loyal to the Mage Royal of Cormyr, 
  in full obedience of speech and action, that peace and 
  order shall prevail in the Forest Kingdom, that magic 
  of mine own and others be used and not misused. I do 
  this in trust that the Mage Royal shall unswervingly 
  serve the throne of Cormyr, and if the Mage Royal 
  fall, or fail the Crown and Throne, my obedience shall 
  be to the sovereign directly. Whenever there is doubt 
  and dispute, I shall act to preserve Cormyr. Sunrise 
  and moonfall, so long as my breath takes and my 
  eyes see, I serve Cormyr. I give my life that the realm 
  endure.
  All personal oaths and many noble oaths of Cor-
  myr include variant flowery language, if approved 
  beforehand by both independent heralds and the 
  accepters, and there’s no reason why War Wizard 
  oaths cannot also have embellishments, as long as 
  this core is retained. In one instance, a War Wiz-
  ard was recruited quite informally: Vangerdahast 
  said, “Well enough, I accept your service. Swear 
  to serve?” and received a response of “Uh, yes.” 
  Whereupon Vangerdahast replied, “Right, you’re 
  in. Now, I order you to . . .”
   
  Most Wizards of War would privately agree 
  that no one really leaves the organization except 
  by dying. There is rarely true retirement, but 
  rather reassignment to do sedentary spying work 
  or magical maintenance work. The force is the 
  envy of many lands, and has survived in part be-
  cause of the covert support of Mystra.
  THE SECRET HISTORY 
  OF THE ZHENTARIM
  The driving force behind the founding of the 
  Zhentarim was the wizard Manshoon, whose 
  thirst for power, domination, and rulership al-
  most matched the hunger of the beholders for 
  the same.
   
  Manshoon began his quest for power by back-
  ing up his older, louder, far less subtle older 
  brother, the warrior Asmuth. Foreseeing a long, 
  bloody, and probably losing battle if Asmuth tried 
  to violently forge the strongest faction among 
  many in Zhentil Keep, Manshoon decided on an-
  other road.
   
  While he and his brother allied with Lord 
  Chess and through that individual sought the 
  loyalties of many lords and wealthy rising mer-
  chants of Zhentil Keep, Manshoon privately met 
  and made common cause with the beholders who 
  had come to dominate the local church of Bane. 
  The beholders promised him that if he and the 
  “magelings” (young, ambitious wizards whom 
  Manshoon commanded) helped the beholders 
  wrest the Banites away from the nominal head 
  of the church, the decadent High Imperceptor, 
  the Banites would join the Zhentarim and win 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  71
  The first flowchart outlining the ever-changing hierarchy of the Zhentarim. This simplified outline was current as the Year of the Prince be-
  gan; four months later, it was woefully out of date. The Knights of Myth Drannor often never knew that a foe they had taken down was a 
  Zhent spy. Manshoon kept the ranks in flux by challenging magelings (ambitious young wizards) to prove themselves by slaying Elminster 
  or completing similarly deadly tasks. Fzoul and the beholders did their own prunings. So I redrafted this chart often. Secretly, of course.
  
  Chapter 2
  72
  Manshoon the lordship of Zhentil Keep. To ac-
  complish this, Manshoon and his magelings were 
  to personally pledge fealty to the god Bane, and 
  promise the Lord of Tyrants that he would trans-
  form the faith into a far greater power than it had 
  waned into under the High Imperceptor.
   
  Manshoon would get the title and the power 
  he craved, and the beholders would get the power 
  they’d ached to wield for so long. The beholders 
  would dominate not just a priesthood, but also the 
  most powerful city-state of the Inner Sea North 
  and a rich mining power that would be swiftly 
  built into a military juggernaut able to defeat any 
  foe in the field—or so Manshoon promised.
   
  Secretly, Manshoon didn’t want the cares and 
  pressures of ruling an expanding empire. Ambi-
  tious rivals such as Fzoul or the beholders could 
  take over, and Manshoon could skillfully ma-
  nipulate them into believing they had duped and 
  bested him to do so. He would even serve some-
  one who rose past him, so long as he got ample 
  opportunity to pursue his most cherished dream.
   
  More than aught else, Manshoon desired to 
  increase his personal magical might so he could 
  dominate wizards and sorcerers. He considered 
  mighty wielders of the Art as superior beings to 
  the “common cattle” of humanity. To rule them 
  is to rule the best—and thus to be the best. Man-
  shoon wanted to achieve a life of relative ease and 
  luxury, to spend his time crafting ever stronger 
  spells, and so make himself the greatest, most 
  famous wizard ever. To do that, he would need 
  great wealth to afford all he wanted for spell 
  crafting. He preferred not to suffer the endless 
  interruptions and perils of hiring out his magic to 
  others to raise funds—in such pursuits he would 
  come into frequent contact with adventurers and 
  mercenaries who might kill him, steal from him, 
  or gain a hold over him.
   
  Enter the central goal he set for the Zhentarim 
  wizards: to establish the shortest trade route link-
  ing the Moonsea with the rich markets of the 
  Sword Coast lands. Finding and controlling bet-
  ter trade routes than those of all his rivals would 
  become the daily work of his magelings, as he set 
  them tasks that would test them, weed out the 
  fools and the undisciplined, and force them into 
  rivalries that would keep them at each other’s 
  throats rather than plotting against him.
   
  With the aid of his notorious stasis clones—
  at least a dozen of which still survive, scattered 
  across other worlds and dimensions—Manshoon 
  intended to outlast those foes he couldn’t outwit 
  or destroy. To guard against Mystra and Azuth 
  foiling his ambitions with their dictates, Man-
  shoon sought the personal patronage of Bane, and 
  won it.
   
  Though his fortunes have risen and fallen with 
  Bane’s, ever since, the two have aided each other 
  effectively. Bane’s return was rooted in creatures 
  readied by Manshoon’s magic. In gratitude—and 
  from a desire to maintain one of his most useful 
  mortal pawns—Bane has rescued Manshoon time 
  and time again.
   
  There are many accurate accounts of Man-
  shoon’s angry, fearful, or reckless behavior—but 
  all those from the later 1400s DR are due to the 
  insanity aroused in Manshoon clones when mul-
  tiple are awake and active at the same time. What 
  some sages have called “the Manshoon Wars” did 
  not span just the few wild years most believe to 
  be the case, but lasted for more than a century. 
  During this entire time, a Manshoon clone ruled 
  the city of Westgate and headed the Night Masks 
  as Orbakh the vampire, and other Manshoon 
  clones were on the loose elsewhere in Faerûn—
  every last one of them less than sane, and acting 
  accordingly.
   
  Manshoon’s earliest and least powerful sur-
  viving clones are more dangerous than his later, 
  more magically accomplished selves. This is true 
  because the early clones retain more of his calm, 
  cold calculation, his freedom from loving or hold-
  ing anyone in friendship, his clearest and most 
  ruthless thinking . . . and his fiercest ambition. 
  The older Manshoon was increasingly tempered 
  by life, as his most hated rivals Szass Tam, Khel-
  ben “Blackstaff” Arunsun, and Elminster Aumar 
  all were. He was mellowing, and starting to feel 
  and pursue other interests aside from the drive 
  for ever more powerful Art and the acquisition of 
  wealth necessary to get that mightier magic.
   
  At least one of his early clones foresaw the mess 
  of the Manshoon Wars and hid himself very well, 
  returning to stasis enclosed within multiple ward 
  spells so as to survive the fray. That clone still 
  sleeps in hiding, and will emerge after all other 
  Manshoons have fallen.
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  73
  WILLIAM O’CONNOR
  Seeking the Best Routes
  Getting rich by control of that “shorter, cheaper, 
  faster, and all ours” trade route betwixt the Sword 
  Coast and the mineral wealth of the Moonsea 
  is what the Zhentarim were originally all about. 
  At least, that’s what they were all about once 
  Manshoon consolidated his political hold over 
  Zhentil Keep.
   
  Hence their creation of what some call the 
  Black Road, a route up the valley of the Tesh from 
  Zhentil Keep and across the perilous desert of 
  Anauroch.
   
  If the Zhentarim suffer the loss of one end of 
  their cherished route, their first reaction—so as 
  not to stop the flow of trade, and therefore in-
  come—is to change the route. In the long run, 
  they would seek to reestablish the best route, 
  since alternative routes are longer, slower, and 
  more expensive.
   
  The worst fallback route—which they use 
  for a trickle of goods to keep the path open, just 
  in case, is through Tilver’s Gap and the Stone-
  lands. For this passage to handle the full traffic 
  the Zhents want to move, the Brotherhood would 
  have to establish dozens of legitimate costers 
  to perform carriage through the Dales, and 
  strengthen Darkhold to better defend the western 
  end, bringing caravans onto existing roads at vari-
  ous points near Corm Orp.
   
  Two more desirable alternatives both begin 
  at the Citadel of the Raven and require hewing 
  a safe route through the Border Forest to reach 
  Anauroch. From there, the Zhents would spend 
  a lot of coin sending caravans carrying only fire-
  wood, food, and water out into the desert to 
  dump at specific sites before returning. In this 
  manner, they would establish a series of “water 
  and warmth” way stops across the frigid desert. 
  Thanks to the cold, spell-controlled rothé (or, as 
  a less desirable alternative, caribou) would be the 
  beasts of burden instead of horses, because breed-
  ing enough sled dogs or training wolves would 
  take too long.
  “Imposing” might be the most genteel way to characterize the air given off by a band of Zhentarim agents, though they might themselves 
  prefer an expression with more of a fear-inducing connotation—such as, for instance, “cold to the core.”
  
  Chapter 2
  74
   
  A wise Zhent commander would run the route 
  along those three isolated peaks, Azirrhat being 
  the most easterly, and use the heights as navi-
  gational aids and signal beacons. This icy route 
  would damage some trade goods, and could reach 
  the western edge of Anauroch at either end of the 
  Far Forest. Which end of the Far Forest is cho-
  sen would depend on how fiercely Llorkh is held 
  against the Zhents. The river Delimbiyr would 
  be their first choice to continue onward, since it 
  would allow them to use their existing agents in 
  Loudwater and elsewhere who represent the west-
  ern end of their present route.
   
  If they can’t use the Delimbiyr, then they 
  would have to travel the harder way: west across 
  the headwaters of the Delimbiyr and along the 
  southern edge of the Nether Mountains to the 
  valley of the Rauvin, and down through the Silver 
  Marches.
   
  The best Zhent strategy would be to establish 
  all of these routes, but heavily use only the one 
  that proves to have the lowest losses of men and 
  cargo, turning to the others if the prime route is 
  threatened by rivals or blocked by some natural 
  occurrence.
   
  While Manshoon was in charge, the Zhents 
  did just that. Later, under Fzoul Chembryl, the 
  Zhents started to try to accomplish all sorts of 
  things at once, and although they seemed every-
  where and more powerful, they became far less 
  effective at actually finishing anything they set 
  out to do.
   
  Increasingly, as time passed, personal ambition 
  on the part of most Zhents led to infighting that 
  was likely to flare into open brawling whenever 
  failure was perceived. 
  Zhent Battle Tactics
  In the field, Zhent forces in the mid 1300s DR 
  were commanded in many different ways as 
  various commanders—some far from compe-
  tent—sought to impress their superiors or just win 
  the day dramatically, by trying new maneuvers. 
  So aside from obvious responses, such as rushing 
  to contain intruders or trying to surround foes, an 
  adventuring band encountering Zhents would sel-
  dom see the same tactics twice.
   
  Mounted Zhent road patrols near Voonlar or 
  Yûlash set out with at least twenty Zhentilar war-
  riors, sometimes accompanied by up to four raw 
  recruits, learning on the job. These warriors were 
  commanded by a priest, who was sometimes ac-
  companied by an underling, and a wizard of lesser 
  stature than the priest who sometimes had an ap-
  prentice along. If neither the priest nor the wizard 
  had a lackey, they were instead accompanied by at 
  least one mounted crossbowman of skill.
   
  Priests on missions—either in Zhentil Keep, 
  another Zhent-dominated urban setting, or out 
  in the countryside—traveled in groups of five or 
  six, along with their errand runners and whatever 
  number of Zhentilar fighters the priests deemed 
  necessary for their own safety. In determining the 
  strength of their guard, they tended to be more 
  cowardly than bold.
   
  When sallying forth into known battle rather 
  than patrolling, Zhent forces were smaller than 
  three patrols combined. These Zhentilar troops 
  were composed mainly of fighters and bolstered 
  by a handful of magelings, each of whom was ac-
  companied by at least one personal bodyguard 
  from among veteran Zhentilar crossbowmen. 
  Priests of Bane magically observed from a safe 
  distance, guarded by their own (stronger than the 
  wizards’) bodyguards, and with defensive spells 
  prepared. Their task was to observe and report 
  back, fighting only to win free of enemies.
   
  If the foe is deemed formidable, such as veteran 
  adventurers would be, a “snake” force was also 
  deployed. This group was composed of a trio or 
  a quintet of experienced Zhentarim wizards with 
  full battle-spells ready, usually accompanied by 
  a few magically controlled monsters. This force 
  waited in concealment—magical or natural—until 
  it was magically directed from afar by the force 
  commander to emerge and attack the enemy from 
  behind once the foe was engaged with the Zhenti-
  lar troops.
   
  The magelings accompanying the Zhent 
  warriors could use any sort of spell, including 
  experimental disasters. They hurled their magic 
  recklessly; they were out to prove themselves and 
  cared little for the defense of items, territory, or 
  their fellow Zhents. They cared a lot for the de-
  fense of their own persons, however, and if the 
  battle turned against their side, they would flee, 
  ignoring any orders to the contrary.
   
  (As a DM, I have always used core rulebook 
  arcane spells for Zhentarim mages, but tweaked 
  every last one slightly, in terms of the appearance 
  of the unleashed magic, its area of effect, or its 
  
  LAWS AND ORDERS
  75
  material components and casting details. This 
  technique keeps players guessing and roleplaying 
  rather than running their characters in combat 
  on the basis of what they know of spells from the 
  rulebooks.)
   
  The experienced Zhentarim wizards in a snake 
  force wore magic rings to teleport themselves out 
  of danger, and attacked in coordinated unison, 
  seeking to strike hard, do damage, and get out, 
  rather than to rescue Zhents or win the field. 
  They heeded Manshoon’s orders to harry enemies 
  through repeated fighting, wearing them down 
  rather than doing anything overly risky or heroic 
  in trying to destroy all foes as swiftly and deci-
  sively as possible.
   
  The watching priests were usually far enough 
  from the main fray to be able to flee easily. If they 
  were chased by a determined enemy, their retreat 
  was through an area where more powerful Banite 
  clergy could ambush their pursuers with multiple 
  magical attacks.
   
  A Zhent force that knew it was going up 
  against particularly persistent foes would often 
  send monsters against them first. Once the enemy 
  was bloodied, but before the foe defeated the 
  beasts, veteran Zhentarim mages would attack 
  with a construct, and finally with their spells. 
  Zhentilar troops then charged in to prevent the 
  enemy from reaching the wizards.
   
  Manshoon often sent Zhent forces (in particu-
  lar ambitious magelings) up against tough foes as 
  a means of testing them. If they were weaklings, 
  they were better gone, but if they succeeded, 
  they eliminated or weakened those foes and be-
  came more experienced, confident, and useful to 
  Manshoon.
  Zhent Garrisons
  During the time when Manshoon led the Black 
  Brotherhood, Zhentarim strongholds, storage 
  caches in caverns and old tombs, and Zhent-
  allied naga lairs were usually guarded by helmed 
  horrors, because casual intruders were more 
  likely to be more terrified of them than of any 
  human. Secondary guards, in Zhent fortresses 
  and warehouses, were often banelar nagas or dark 
  nagas, with bored, resentful “duty wizards” as 
  backup. Duty wizards are Zhentarim mages as-
  signed to such duties as punishment, or because 
  they are out of favor. The backups always had 
  some means, from message pigeons to magic, of 
  reporting attacks on the stronghold—or other in-
  teresting events—to other Zhents elsewhere.
   
  No foe of the Zhentarim should ever expect to 
  raid or overwhelm and seize a Zhent-held build-
  ing or even a roadblock without other Zhents 
  knowing about it. Getting the word out right away 
  is a firm, standing order from Manshoon. And 
  after a few Zhents died slowly and painfully as 
  lessons to others, that order rose to supersede any 
  fears of consequences that might lead a Zhent to 
  be slow to report.
  The Right Air of Menace
  The Zhentarim have achieved a lot through in-
  timidation, but they are far more than jackbooted 
  thugs who turn cowardly when faced with real 
  resistance. They have their spies, and they often 
  make uncooperative people “go missing” rather 
  than showing up to publicly butcher them or to 
  set their homes on fire. Sometimes they magically 
  assume the likeness of someone they’ve killed 
  or taken captive, to hide in plain view and to lay 
  blame on that person for something the Brother-
  hood did. Sometimes they leave false messages or 
  “dropped items” to be found, to mislead others. 
  Never forget that some Zhentarim are very smart.
   
  The Black Brotherhood long ago realized that 
  a fearsome reputation can cow people into doing 
  what you want them to—if you make the right 
  examples of a few, and spread (and steer) pre-
  cisely worded rumors so the populace takes your 
  hints and outright directions—better than the 
  most exhaustive policing and patrolling can. Folk 
  will even eagerly do things if you can make them 
  think what they’re doing was their own idea, or 
  is a clever dodge around detested taxes or rules. 
  Why get a sword rusty killing a farmer, when he 
  could work hard feeding you for years to come?
   
  All Zhentarim can act like menacing butchers, 
  but most of them are far more than that.
  
  76
  TYLER JACOBSON
  The so-called mundane details of daily life have 
  spurred many an adventure. Whether spurred by 
  the need for somewhere warm to sleep, food and 
  drink, or something to properly and protectively 
  clothe oneself, everyday life is the nucleus around 
  which adventure is built.
   
  Every player whose character has been attacked 
  at home, in bed, or has arrived home battered and 
  weary after a hard adventure to find that home 
  looted, burned to the ground, or under the bulk of 
  a grinning dragon, knows the sickening shock, the 
  violation, of having one’s home messed with. As 
  the beggar Jorthyn famously told King Azoun IV of 
  Cormyr: “I’ll fight for my best begging spot, Maj-
  esty, just as fiercely as you’ll defend yon Palace.”
   
  Azoun—and the people in wider Cormyr, 
  when they heard what Jorthyn had said—agreed 
  with his every word. Sage or shopkeeper, farmer 
  or noble, your home is nigh everything.
   
  Beginning with that topic, here follows discus-
  sions of those aforementioned mundane details: 
  gathering places both private (the home) and 
  public (the neighborhood tavern); the dishes and 
  drinkables Faerûnians prepare and consume; and 
  3
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  77
  the various ways in which they outfit and adorn 
  their bodies, ranging from everyday wear to the 
  highest of fashion.
  WHERE ONE’S HAT 
  IS HUNG
  In the Realms, people can live in anything, from 
  grand palaces and fortresses to dirt dugouts 
  and caves.
   
  For instance, in the windswept, cliff-top Sword 
  Coast coastal fishing community of Ulgoth’s 
  Beard, almost everyone dwells in dirt-floored, 
  windowless stone cottages with roofs of grow-
  ing turf, planted with herbs and edibles. Most 
  such dwellings have an entry room that doubles 
  as a dining and living room (and in winter, as a 
  kitchen), and opens into two or three inner rooms 
  that are used for bedchambers and storage. The 
  hearth is central, and in cold weather, stones 
  are heated and placed in beds and cold corners 
  to warm the dwelling as much as possible. The 
  fisher folk of Ulgoth’s Beard refer to these humble 
  cottages as their “dens.” 
   
  In summer, they gather peat and wood, some 
  of which they “slowburn” in clay-choked fires 
  into charcoal, for use in winter cooking. They also 
  gather berries from thickets in the “breaks” along 
  the cliffs, and smoke and salt fish. Most homes in 
  the Beard have outside chimney ovens for sum-
  mer cooking, and racks on which the fisher folk 
  spread their nets for drying and mending. Filleted 
  fish are laid out under fine bird nets for curing.
   
  Folk of the Heartlands are far more familiar 
  with root cellars and such for the winter storage 
  of vegetables and fuel. Their usual dwellings are 
  timber-framed homes, the oldest and grandest 
  having fieldstone foundations and ground floors. 
  Most farming families in the Heartlands till six 
  acres or less, though some own or claim far more. 
  Much land is left to grow wild, as woodlots have 
  proven a vital part of their commerce, providing 
  a source of firewood, poles (from coppicing), and 
  such, and untilled meadows provide handy wild 
  grazing land.
   
  Grim past experience with fires has led many 
  folk in the North, and much of the Heartlands, 
  to build small, scattered barns and outbuildings 
  instead of one barn close to a lone house. Where 
  marauding beasts are a problem, people lay thick 
  thorn hedges or wooden stockades as barriers 
  and make use of nearby streams as crude moats, 
  helping to protect the livestock in these scattered 
  buildings.
   
  In cities, most buildings are rectangular blocks 
  of brick and stone, with gently sloped slate or tile 
  roofs. In areas that see snow, buildings often have 
  steeply pitched roofs so as to shed it more quickly. 
  A typical city building has shops in the “first 
  down” (cellar level) and on street level, with two 
  or three (and in a few of the more prosperous and 
  crowded cities, four) floors above the street-level 
  shop. In the priciest heart of a city’s urban area, 
  the lowest of those upper floors, or all of them, 
  are apt to contain business offices. Elsewhere, 
  they are usually rented out to tenants as living 
  space, very like real-world low-rise apartment 
  buildings.
   
  Walled cities with growing populations and 
  prosperity experienced rebuilding throughout the 
  1300s DR that continues unabated thereafter. 
  This effort created the “tallhouse,” a tall, narrow, 
  tenement-like building sharing side walls with ad-
  jacent buildings. Tallhouses are now abundant in 
  Waterdeep, Athkatla, and the cities of Sembia. In 
  a tallhouse, each tenant either owns chamber pots 
  and kitchen facilities, or is forced to use a com-
  munal outdoor brick oven and privies at the end 
  of the back garden—if there is a garden. Where 
  tenants occupy entire floors, cooking tends to be 
  on a back balcony to minimize the risk of fire, ex-
  cept in the coldest winter weather, when warmth 
  is desired. 
   
  Increasingly, in wealthy neighborhoods in Wa-
  terdeep (North Ward and Castle Ward), and in 
  Selgaunt, tallhouses are owned by one person 
  and rented out by the floor, not divided up into 
  the usual warren of small rooms or “darchains” 
  (suites of linked rooms, usually three). 
   
  City tenants usually cook on small iron-caul-
  dron wood stoves with iron legs set on layers of 
  stones. These wood stoves are used to heat sur-
  rounding walls of stacked stones that can be 
  carried to beds or other rooms to radiate warmth. 
  Each stove has a cylindrical metal chimney that 
  branches horizontally through the rooms to the 
  windows, where shutters can be opened to let out 
  the smoke. This arrangement offers warmth and a 
  hanging place to dry damp clothing.
   
  An isolated farm might be a “steading” or a 
  “croft” (and its owners, “crofters”). It is called a 
  
  Chapter 3
  78
  tables, followed by couches that aren’t just beds 
  dressed up with cushions and sat on during the 
  day. Lamps become far more numerous and deco-
  rative. Strongchests remain the most common 
  means of storage.
   
  The average strongchest is a large, rectangular 
  lidded wooden box fitted with sturdy handles and 
  a series of rings down the sides, through which 
  timber spars are slid to enable the chest to be 
  readily carried by groups of people. Only wealthy 
  folk can afford wardrobes and other pieces of fine 
  storage furniture.
   
  Likewise, only the truly wealthy, and the guilds 
  who work for them, can afford elaborate building 
  plans. Many nobles proudly display detailed mod-
  els of their country places in their city residences, 
  for the less fortunate to gasp over at revels. A 
  few even hire mages to populate their miniature 
  structures with moving miniature people for such 
  evenings (often transformed rats or mice—but 
  sometimes hirelings who have displeased their 
  noble masters).
  Hospitality in the Dales
  It’s the custom throughout most of the Dale-
  lands to give a visitor in summer a cup of water to 
  drink, and a bowl of water in which to bathe one’s 
  feet. Visitors do the bathing and the removal of 
  footwear themselves, and can refuse either kind of 
  aid without insulting the host.
   
  In winter, a visitor is given warm water or 
  warmed oils for his or her feet, and a place by the 
  fire, stove, or whatever source of heat is available, 
  plus something warm to drink. Again, refusing is 
  not an insult.
   
  Visitors who come armed with battle weap-
  onry are expected to promise “peace upon this 
  house,” which is a literal promise of “I won’t draw 
  a weapon or use it while under this roof, nor set 
  fire to the lodging itself.” Thereafter, visitors are 
  expected to offer their sheathed swords to the lady 
  of the house for safekeeping until their departure. 
  By tradition, the lady of the house, who is the 
  senior mentally competent woman in residence, 
  puts the sheathed weapon in her bed overnight so 
  no one can get to it in the dark hours of slumber 
  and shed blood; but in actual practice the weapon 
  is often hung from the rafters, laid on a mantel, 
  or hidden. If it is hidden, it must be yielded up 
  speedily when the guest announces his or her 
  “hold” only if it is fortified or defensible in some 
  way. This could mean it has earthworks or stone 
  towers, or even a cave.
   
  The word “cabin” is unknown in the Realms. 
  There are cottages, but most who live in them call 
  them “my hearth.”
   
  “Standath” is the Dragon Reach and Moon-
  sea name for a rectangular stone building that 
  has cellars. Shops are often located on the upper-
  most cellar level, entered by a “duck down steps” 
  route from street level, as well on the ground 
  floor, and sometimes even the second floor. The 
  upper floors of a standath, of which there are 
  two or more, are usually given over to residential 
  suites. Sometimes the ground-level shop extends 
  to the floor directly above it. The vast majority of 
  crowded, square, stone-block central city build-
  ings are standaths.
   
  A “murdath” is the same as a standath but with 
  no cellars beneath, usually due to hard bedrock 
  near the surface, swampy ground, or ever-present 
  flooding danger.
   
  In the 1360s DR, fine city dwellings started 
  being called mansions rather than manor houses 
  or villas, with some exceptions, such as in Water-
  deep, Amn, and Tethyr. A fortified grand house 
  is called a keep even if it doesn’t look like a cas-
  tle, and the general term for ritzy digs is “grand 
  house.”
   
  Any run-down hovel, from cottages to man-
  sions, is a “darkhalls” or, if really dilapidated, a 
  “roofwrack.” Indoor toilets are “garderobes” in 
  grand houses or castles and “jakes” otherwise; 
  only outdoor toilets are “privies,” “thunder-
  thrones,” or “gloryhouses.”
   
  Typical furnishings for poor folk include a bed 
  and a table with an oil lamp (or “candle-cup”). 
  Possessions and extra blankets are kept in a 
  strongchest that is either stored under the bed or 
  used as a sideboard. The average strongchest is a 
  large rectangular wooden box fitted with sturdy 
  handles and a series of rings on the side, through 
  which timber spars are slid through to enable 
  the strongchest to be carried up on the shoulders 
  by groups of people. Valuables are often hidden 
  under the floorboards beneath the strongchest or 
  the bed (or both), with strings of scrap metal at-
  tached to the furniture, to sound a clang if either 
  is moved.
   
  As wealth increases (and space accordingly), 
  folk furnish their homes with chairs, then side 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  79
  intended departure, or else the guest is entitled to 
  do violence to recover it.
  Heating and Cooking Fuel
  In the Realms, as in the real world, fuels for pro-
  ducing heat have traditionally been ignitables that 
  are plentiful, near at hand, gained with relative 
  ease, and cheap—for example, wood in forests, 
  peat near bogs, or livestock manure mixed with 
  straw and dried in grasslands.
   
  In desert areas across the Realms, people use 
  dried camel dung as fuel, and the cold northern 
  areas use the dung of local pack beasts. Addi-
  tionally, some areas of grasslands, such as the 
  Shaar, use cut sheaves or “stooks” of fried grasses 
  (straw), and some coastal areas use fish oil or 
  whale oil. Regardless, firewood is still by far the 
  most plentiful and widely used fuel in the Realms.
   
  Lands such as Cormyr, Chessenta, Tethyr, 
  Turmish, and the Dales use coppicing on country 
  estates to produce high wood yields. This is done 
  by cutting limbs from living trees with care not to 
  kill the tree, so they will regrow fuel for cutting 
  again in a decade or less. (Coppiced trees have a 
  distinctive appearance, which can be seen in real-
  world rural England.)
   
  Much wood destined for cities is pre-burned 
  (over a fire built in a hut to cut the wind) and 
  smothered with turf so that it smolders, forming 
  charcoal. The burning charcoal is then extin-
  guished, and when cold, is transported to a city 
  for sale. Charcoal is favored because it burns hot-
  ter and faster than wood and with less smoke. It 
  can also be scented with various liquids to give off 
  pleasant odors.
   
  Dragon dung is reputed to have all sorts of wild 
  properties and powers. Alchemists have discov-
  ered a handful of these assertions to be true, such 
  as that it causes rapid growth and regeneration 
  when used in a poultice, in some cases of sickness 
  and disease. Adventurers have confirmed some 
  others—such as that dragon dung ignites easily, 
  even in freezing or drenched conditions; that it 
  can in some confined conditions be made to ex-
  plode when lit; and that it burns with an intense 
  blue flame. All such tales stress, however, that 
  only the dung of certain types of dragons does 
  these particular things . . . and the accounts differ 
  on which types have which effects.
  INNS AND TAVERNS
  Inns are primarily places where a traveler can 
  sleep for the night, stable one’s horses, buy semi-
  secure short-term storage, and get simple meals 
  either in one’s rooms or in a “common room” 
  (dining room).
   
  Alehouses (taverns) are mainly places for 
  drinking, sometimes with rentable private booths 
  or chambers for conducting business meetings. 
  Such chambers can also be rented for overnight 
  stays, and simple food of the sausage, meat-pie, 
  stew, and bread-loaf variety can be had. (Taverns 
  in the Realms seldom offer extensive menus.) The 
  main room of a tavern is a taproom, and taverns 
  have tavernmasters and even tankard-tenders 
  (but never barkeeps, barkeepers, or bartenders). 
  Female servers are known as wenches (not a dis-
  respectful term), and male servers are known as 
  keghands, never waitresses and waiters. Taverns 
  serve ale in tankards, and wine in tall glasses or 
  flagons (no one uses the words “mug” or “pint”).
   
  The Realms has uncounted thousands of both 
  inns and taverns. A small wayside settlement 
  might have just an inn that serves also as a tav-
  ern. Conversely, backcountry hamlets and villages 
  not on a trade road often lack an inn; the tavern 
  serves both functions, with a stable loft offering 
  crude overnight sleeping facilities for travelers. 
  Although generalizations are by nature oversim-
  plifications, taverns are generally noisier and less 
  formal than inns, and taverns tend to welcome 
  everyone, whereas inns are restricted to paying 
  guests—and perhaps one or two persons who 
  come to meet with each guest. Local law keep-
  ers tend to be slightly more lax in disciplining 
  the patrons of taverns (“Well, what did ye ex-
  pect? Drunkards brawl, and you went to a place 
  where folk go to get drunk!”) than they are for the 
  guests of inns, where it’s understood that patrons 
  are paying for some measure of peace, quiet to 
  sleep, and security.
   
  Taverns and inns often have stables, run by 
  stablemasters who direct hostlers to tend to horses 
  (these handlers are rarely called grooms). Both 
  inns and taverns have cellarers who see to the 
  procurement, storage, and retrieval of drinkables 
  and sometimes of food, too. Female servants are 
  generally known as maids, and male servants 
  as jacks.
  
  Chapter 3
  80
   
  A wayside inn or tavern might buy, sell, and 
  trade mounts and pack animals, but in cities and 
  market towns, such guild-dominated trade is 
  done at “livery stables” instead.
   
  In a small inn where one servant sees to ev-
  erything for multiple rooms, that servant is a 
  “chambermaid” or “chamberjack” (less formally, 
  just “maid” or “jack”). If the inn is a little larger, 
  it will have “chamberers” assisted by “warmers” 
  (more formally, “warming maids” or “warming 
  jacks”) who see to chamber pots and to ewers, 
  basins, and towels, for wash water and drinking 
  water. These names are used even in inns that 
  never heat water.
   
  An even larger inn will separate the warmers 
  from those who deal with chamber pots, who then 
  are “nightmaids” and “nightjacks” or, less for-
  mally, “potmaids” and “potjacks.”
   
  Typical superior tavern fare throughout Faerûn 
  consists of inexpensive drinks—such as mint 
  water, small beer, local ales and wines, and some 
  offering of stronger spirits—as well as an assort-
  ment of nuts, wheels of cheese, small round loaves 
  of salty bread, sausages, soups, and “everything 
  in” stews. One of these stews usually contains 
  boar scraps and barley, the broth thickened with 
  mashed yellow peas. It is always salty, to encour-
  age more drinking, and always served in tankards 
  with long spoons chained to their handles for use 
  in scraping out the last food at the bottom of the 
  tankard.
  Public Dining and Menus
  In the Realms, the most popular everyday terms 
  for “restaurant” are “feasthouse” and the slightly 
  grander “feast hall” (more often these days “feast-
  ing hall,” to avoid confusion with “festhall).” 
  The Chondathan word “skaethar” has crept into 
  Common as formal usage, meaning “dining es-
  tablishment,” where the word “feasthouse” has a 
  meaning closer to “eatery.”
   
  Small wayside inns and taverns that offer 
  the only public dining in a town don’t bother 
  with menus. Whatever’s “on” tonight is it, with 
  usual meal choices so simple that the platter-
  maid just verbally imparts them (“What’ll it be, 
  goodsirs? The fish or the joint?” or “Full meat 
  or the stew?”) and outlines the drinkables and 
  desserts—the latter being the real “treat worth 
  paying for” in the eyes of most commoners and 
  farmers in the Realms.
   
  A larger settlement might have multiple places 
  to eat but little true competition. For example, a 
  village might have a temple that serves food only 
  to pilgrims and night guests, an inn that serves 
  a different sort of fare but only to patrons, and a 
  tavern that serves only sausages, cheese, and hot 
  hardbread with lots and lots of ale to everyone 
  who comes in the door and pays. Again, no writ-
  ten menus are needed or used.
   
  Most feasthouses and feast halls inside inns 
  and taverns are located where there’s true com-
  petition, as is usual in market towns and cities, 
  as well as places where food sources change often 
  (fresh fish landed at ports, for example). Newly 
  arrived fare is chalked up on menu boards, typi-
  cally on display beside the bar as well as on a 
  pillar not far inside the front door.
   
  Royalty, nobility, and wealthy social climbers 
  have always regarded beautiful printed menus 
  (often taken home as remembrances) as a mark 
  of what they call “proper” or “superior” dining. 
  As a result, all highborn feasting halls and inns 
  that have ornate feast chambers or agreements 
  with feasthouses and dining clubs tend to prepare 
  handsomely calligraphed “provender bills.” These 
  provender bills cover both sides of one sheet of 
  heavy paper; menus are a field in which exotic pa-
  pers are the rage, not parchment. In Waterdeep, 
  almost every eatery in North Ward, Sea Ward, 
  Castle Ward, and Trades Ward west and north of 
  the City of the Dead employs such printed menus. 
  Even some of the more exclusive “upstairs clubs” 
  in Dock Ward, frequented by young nobles, use 
  either printed menus, done by the broadsheet 
  printers, or handwritten cards.
   
  A few establishments boast what we would 
  recognize as coated-paper, multipanel foldout 
  menus. The coating is wax, to keep stains from 
  stews and sauces off the paper, which is usually 
  shield-shaped rather than rectangular. These es-
  tablishments are mainly in Calimshan and the 
  Tashalar, but there are a few in Amn, coastal 
  Tethyr, and the Vilhon.
   
  An old tradition around the shores of the Shin-
  ing Sea—still seen in some places there, and 
  flourishing in Var the Golden—is that of the ban-
  ner maids. These are provocatively or grandly 
  dressed lasses who accompany the platter-maid 
  to a table of diners. The banner maid is literally 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  81
  MICHAEL KOMARCK
  When the evening rowdiness hits its peak in the local tavern, it might be hard to find a quiet corner for a hushed conversation . . but if all 
  else fails, there’s always the cellar.
  
  Chapter 3
  82
  wearing the menu, as a fore-and-aft stiffened 
  fabric that fits close to the body. She stands and 
  moves as diners direct, they choose their meals, 
  the platter-maid records the orders, and off both 
  maids go to the next table. Good-looking and at-
  tractively dressed banner maids often get called 
  back several times throughout a meal. It’s con-
  sidered good fun and acceptable to “call forth” 
  the banner maid once more or even several times 
  as one eats, but it is not considered good form to 
  dally over the initial order, or to recall her mul-
  tiple times immediately after making that order. 
  Some restaurants use their banner maids for deal-
  ing with rowdy diners, equipping them with bulbs 
  of swiftsleep gas or liquid drugs that act as seda-
  tives when mixed with wine or ale hidden beneath 
  their menu boards.
  WHAT’S TO EAT?
  The bounty of the land and agriculture are 
  watched over by Chauntea; however, no deity 
  governs food and drink. Many faiths use special 
  foods, meals, food preparations, and drugs in 
  various holy rituals, but food and drink are not 
  exclusively the portfolio of any one deity.
   
  The best food nowadays is never imbued with 
  magic, after centuries of accumulated fear and 
  abhorrence of the results of magical tinkering 
  with food. Too often in the past has magic been 
  used to poison foes, transform foes, or just trick 
  someone into eating dung, glass shards, or other 
  disgusting or harmful substances that had been 
  temporarily transformed into something more ap-
  petizing. Just about every Faerûnian society down 
  the centuries has shunned magical meal prepara-
  tion—except for specific tasks such as peeling and 
  ingredient mixing—and the prevailing attitude 
  across the Realms is admiration of cooking done 
  without magic. That said, no one will cavil at 
  someone who uses a spell to get drenched wood 
  burning for a cooking fire in a rainstorm, or uses 
  a spell to thaw frozen food in a blizzard.
   
  Some jaded and wealthy nobles see enchanted 
  food as exclusive, rare, and special because it’s 
  forbidden or frowned upon, and they handsomely 
  pay wizards—especially sorcerers, who can work 
  magic without a lot of obvious casting prepara-
  tions—to prepare food magically at private feasts 
  and revels. Of course, nobles who love such fare 
  claim it has a taste that more mundane food can 
  never achieve; many lonely wizards who are poor 
  cooks privately disagree.
   
  The backbone of many human diets is grain 
  and meat. Most meat in the Realms is marinated 
  simply and cheaply in stale beer with sugar, garlic, 
  salt, and mustard, or the cook’s preferred hand-
  ful of herbs, to taste. An alternative marinade 
  is fruit juice, most often the wet mash of grape 
  skins left over after grapes have been pressed and 
  the fluid poured off for wine making. Meat that’s 
  been salted to preserve it is soaked overnight, and 
  the water is then poured off to cut its saltiness. 
  Lamb and boar are often scored, with cloves or 
  garlic buds thrust into the slits, before cooking. 
  Most meats are painted with a mix of powdered 
  spices (sage, rosemary, and the like) before being 
  spit-roasted, and Calishite cooks even add certain 
  substances to the hearth-coals so the aromatic 
  smoke will permeate the meat as it’s roasting. The 
  aromatic herbs are always secrets of the cook, 
  however, most are tinctures or tisanes made from 
  rose petals or the leaves and petals of other flow-
  ers. The blood from slaughtered animals is always 
  saved to be cooked as drippings or used in mak-
  ing gravy, sometimes with a few drops of vinegar 
  to prevent congealing.
  Handfoods
  Snacks are popular in most places in the Realms, 
  particularly in crowded, fast-paced cities.
   
  Here follows a far from complete list.
   
  Hand Pies: Meat-and-gravy-filled, savory 
  palm-sized pastries of an astonishing variety 
  of ingredients and tastes, from curries, to leek-
  with-bacon, to minted lamb. Popular in the 
  Heartlands, the Dales, and the Savage Coast 
  North.
   
  Salted, Roasted Seeds: Especially pumpkin 
  and loalurr (pistachios). Popular in the Tashalar.
   
  Wheels of Sharp Yellow Cheese: Some with 
  ground nuts or diced olives inside, or laced with 
  zzar or various liqueurs. Popular in the Heart-
  lands, the Dales, and the Savage Coast North.
   
  Raisins: Popular in the Heartlands and on the 
  coast of the Sea of Fallen Stars.
   
  Date Cakes: Served as pressed, flat ovals. 
  Popular in Calimshan and the Tashalar.
   
  Fig Cakes: Served as pressed, flat ovals. Pop-
  ular in Calimshan.
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  83
  WAYNE ENGLAND
   
  Cranberry Cakes: Served as pressed, 
  flat ovals. Popular in Sembia, the Vilhon, and 
  Turmish.
   
  Dried Apricots: Popular in the Tashalar, Lu-
  iren, Var, and Estagund.
   
  Quince Sticks: Cakes of dried quince pressed 
  together with various beetles and formed around 
  edible klooer roots (licorice-like roots of a 
  parched wilderland bush). Popular in the Vilhon, 
  Shaar, Var, and Estagund.
   
  Honeydrops: Thumb-sized candies of honey 
  mixed with an edible gum and spices to provide 
  flavor and keep the honey from melting and run-
  ning in hot conditions. Popular in Calimshan, the 
  Vilhon, Mulhorand, Raurin, and Chessenta.
   
  Sugar Cakes: Like real-world petit-fours, 
  sugar icing-drenched confections of baked cake 
  that have been laced with jams or chocolate or 
  herbal distillates. Popular everywhere, but they 
  tend to be in short supply and expensive.
   
  Cherrybread: Like real-world fruitcake, vari-
  ous diced fruits, marinated in spirits, baked into 
  a molasses cake and sold as small whole loaves or 
  as slices wrapped in leaves. Popular in the Border 
  Kingdoms, the Vilhon, and on the coast of the 
  Sea of Fallen Stars.
   
  Blood-Drops: Beets sliced very thinly, fried in 
  oil, and then dusted with salt and various spices, 
  from sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg to the various 
  hot spices (like vegetable crisps).
   
  Potato Cakes: Like real-world Irish wedge-
  shaped griddle cakes.
  There are many more, but almost all large mar-
  kets during summer and autumn, across most of 
  Faerûn, should have the majority of those men-
  tioned above for sale.
   
  One appetizer popular in Sword Coast ports in 
  the early 1300s DR that crept into Cormyr, West-
  gate, and then Sembia as the century unfolded 
  is the talyth. This morsel is a cracker the size of 
  The folk of the Realms, even those of lesser means, eat well. If something is edible, or can be made so, then chances are good that someone in 
  Faerûn has made the consumption of that something into a . . . memorable . . . culinary experience.
  
  Chapter 3
  84
  a small human palm with a thin slice of sausage 
  on top, and various sorts of herbs, spices, and 
  mushed-down-flat foodstuffs in between, lightly 
  baked to glue it together. Talyths are usually sa-
  vory, and can include anything from snails and 
  oysters and spiced worms right up to diced eggs 
  and mixed cheeses.
   
  Talyths have been made fresh in Waterdeep, 
  Neverwinter, Luskan, Mirabar, Elturel, Ever-
  lund, Silverymoon, and Scornubel for decades. 
  In winter, talyths can be premade and packed on 
  ice, for later heating or reheating, to be served 
  immediately.
   
  Also popular as appetizers are sugar bladders. 
  These are confections wrapped in pig’s bladders, 
  heated on metal plates over fires to drive out their 
  moisture, tied shut, and then painted all over 
  with tansel (an egg- and plant-based mixture that 
  provides an airtight seal). The bladders are then 
  packed in pitch-sealed tins full of edible plant oils 
  to guard against spoilage. Caravan companies 
  ship these tins to shops and eating establishments.
   
  Some handfoods aren’t suitable as traveling 
  fare, but others are prized by adventurers and 
  wayfarers across Faerûn as essentials, particularly 
  if they go beyond the standard hunk of sausage, 
  whole pickle, and wedge or small wheel of cheese.
  REGIONAL CUISINES
  It could go without saying (but won’t) that differ-
  ent nations and cities and areas and races in the 
  Realms have foods they prefer; the following sec-
  tions highlight a few of these special dishes, and 
  the creative names that many have been given.
  Cuisine of the Cold North
  It’s a very old joke to say that inhabitants of the 
  Frozenfar eat whatever they can catch—all too 
  often, each other.
   
  The North is home to myriad hardy plants 
  that survive years of successive hard freezes and 
  thaws, growing low to the ground with abundant 
  berries. Many an adventurer digging a snow cave 
  to survive a night’s sleep in the howling open 
  has uncovered a good meal of tharberries (large, 
  beige-to-white, chewy berries), laum berries 
  (honey-sweet, orange, tiny berries), blooddrops 
  (bright red berries that taste like cooked onions), 
  or one of the other threescore edible berries.
   
  Yet in a region where orc hordes rise every 
  few decades to scour the land of everything ed-
  ible in their path, the true essential for humans in 
  the North is the rothé. This large, shaggy beast 
  provides its milk and meat as food. The milk is 
  used both as a liquid for drinking and cooking 
  and to make cheese, and the meat yields roasts 
  that are either stewed in rothé blood, fire-roasted, 
  or “long-roasted” into long-lasting “trail gnaw.” 
  The rothé’s dung can be used as fire-fuel, and its 
  hides and the warmth of its living body can be 
  used to protect against the cold. Roaming wild 
  herds of rothé and cultivated, “trapped” herds of 
  hobbled or penned-in-mountain-vales rothé, plus 
  deer, have made human settlement possible in 
  the North.
  Cuisine of the Inner Sea 
  North
  Hunted game has always been prominent on the 
  tables of all lands on the northern side of the 
  Sea of Fallen Stars. This fare is in contrast to 
  the farmed livestock and poultry that dominate 
  in the kitchens on the southern side of the Inner 
  Sea. Typical city food in the lands north of the 
  Sea of Fallen Stars is much like the cuisine of the 
  Dragon Reach port of Tantras.
   
  Tantras has lots of fresh fish and eel shops and 
  stands, and its streets often reek of cooking fish 
  in early evening. Yet a baeranth is the most popu-
  lar everyday evening meal for Tantrans. The dish 
  is a meat pie or tart with a peppery gravy inside, 
  baked to a golden brown finish. A true baeranth 
  mixes the smoked meat of cattle, goat, and hogs 
  in a three-one-one ratio, but there are the inevita-
  ble tales of dogs and even humans going missing 
  and winding up in these ever-present pies.
   
  Baeranths vary in price from 1 sp for six to 2 
  cp each, depending on the size and freshness of 
  the pie and the reputation of the shop. They are 
  always sold hot, and can be bought from about 
  highsun to dusk from dozens of serving-shutter-
  on-the-street-wall shops with names like Karvin’s 
  and Thurnan’s Oven and The Meltmouth.
   
  Sarkul (smoked fish) is also popular in Tantras. 
  The fish are caught in the Reach, immersed in 
  honey and seasonings, and then hung and smoked 
  for several days in closed sheds to produce the 
  savory sarkul. Fish is never put in a baeranth. 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  85
  As a young student bored in a classroom, I liked to draw flies. Anything can become a monster—and in my hands, anything all too often 
  does. I’m not trying to destroy civilization by overwhelming it with deadly devourers, but seeking to slay an early problem. When every 
  player read every rulebook, “module,” and The Dragon issue, all too often every last spell, magic item, and monster would be part of play-
  ers’ metagame knowledge. So, drown them in too much Realmslore for anyone to keep track of—and presto, it’s real roleplaying time again.
  
  Chapter 3
  86
  Locally, for some unknown reason, the very idea 
  of fish pies is considered revolting.
   
  Tantras has many taverns, but few dining halls 
  or anything else similar to a restaurant. Its inns 
  typically lack dining rooms or taprooms. Instead, 
  they serve warm mulled cider and cold ale with 
  buttered bread—often mraedin, a very dark, rich 
  nutbread akin to pumpernickel—up in the rooms 
  of guests. The taverns of Tantras serve the usual 
  drinks, plus hot buns covered with melted cheese 
  (but little other food). Some taverns put sliced ol-
  ives or slices of sausage on the cheese of hot buns 
  so they’ll stick to it, to make their buns distinctive 
  and popular.
   
  Across the Inner Sea, the Akanamere supports 
  local fisheries that bring in crabs, eels, and druth 
  (a brown flatfish that resembles the detached sole 
  of a leather moccasin). The eels and the flatfish 
  are sun-dried to prepare them for transport and 
  sale; when soaked in water or shredded into a 
  soup or stew, they readily reconstitute. The eels 
  have an odd, nutty taste and the flatfish have a 
  hearty smoked bacon-like flavor but a leathery, 
  hard-chewing consistency.
   
  The crabs are often called stone crabs for their 
  mottled gray color and rounded shape. They are 
  usually tossed alive into layers of salt in barrels 
  for transport elsewhere, an act that kills them and 
  preserves them. After being bought out of the 
  barrel, they must be soaked for a day to get rid of 
  the salt, or boiled very briefly with kurlath leaves 
  (the broad green leaves of a wild, shade-loving 
  ground plant otherwise useful only for wrapping 
  things in) to drive out the salt. Then the crabs can 
  be prepared however desired. Eaten raw, stone 
  crabs have a taste somewhat like real-world tinned 
  smoked oysters, though they’re not at all oily. 
  The flavor of the meat readily awakens when it is 
  cooked with herbs and spices, becoming stronger 
  and more crablike. The crabs are extremely tasty 
  when steamed, boiled, fried, or fire-seared.
   
  Along the Chessentan and northern Turmish 
  coast, tall broadleaf reeds grow thickly, forming 
  what some folk call giantgrass forests. These serve 
  as ideal places to hide for aquatic creatures, or for 
  those who have access to a small, slender water-
  craft that can be poled and paddled. The reeds 
  can be interlaced and woven into improvised 
  roofs, clothing, and carrying containers—and are 
  edible as well, though they are stingingly hot, like 
  the green ends of leeks, when chewed raw. When 
  boiled or stewed, they exude a gummy essence 
  used as a thickener in many kitchens—and such a 
  stew is nourishing in itself. Coastal dwellers usu-
  ally add frogs, snails, fish, or meat scraps to such 
  stews to yield full and satisfying meals. Families 
  often sit around the stew-pot dipping wedges of 
  stale bread into it, which they then eat, alternat-
  ing bites with strong cheeses. This activity is 
  known around the Inner Sea as a bowl feast.
  Tethyrian Cuisine
  Tethyr is a verdant, long-settled country with 
  many farms, and active fishing along its coasts 
  and on its rivers. Its cultivated vineyards are lo-
  cated mainly inland, in the south and particularly 
  southeast of the realm. Local meals vary with the 
  wealth of the diners and the resources available—
  such as fresh fish in ports and along coastal roads, 
  and smoked or salted fish elsewhere—but in gen-
  eral, daily meals in rural Tethyr tend to consist 
  of large morningfeasts, light afternoon snacks 
  known as runsun, and long and large evenfeasts.
   
  Morningfeasts tend to be evenfeast leftovers, 
  such as vegetables and scraps of meat or fish, fried 
  in onions and oil.
   
  Runsuns began their existence as field meals 
  for farm workers, consisting of a drink and a sa-
  vory pie—the sort of thing that is also standard 
  tavern fare, and is served at inns in the dark 
  hours. The pies are cold, filled with spiced roast 
  fowl or leftover meats such as ham, diced beef, 
  smoked meats or, along the coast, fish. All of this 
  meat is chopped and mixed with diced parsnips 
  or potatoes in a spinach-and-mint or spinach-
  and-hot-peppers “simmer sauce.”
   
  Evenfeast is the longest meal of the day, typi-
  cally served after dark (when day work is done). 
  At expensive inns and in grand houses, it is a 
  large meal of multiple courses, including spiced 
  vegetables in various sauces, and fowl stuffed 
  with herbed meats and “frothed” vegetables. The 
  meal is washed down with various wines, and 
  ends in a sweet fruit tart of some sort. In simpler 
  households, evenfeast tends to be a large, hearty 
  “manymeats” stew. In coastal settlements, the 
  stew is often replaced by skewers of roasted-with-
  diced-vegetables fish (fish-kebabs), accompanied 
  by garlic bread or cheese-flavored bread, and with 
  a dessert of diced cheese and apples, or even a 
  sweet (berry) pie.
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  87
  I’ve always invented recipes that made use of monster carcasses—ever since a Realmsplay evening in 1978 when I had swooping wyverns 
  snatch the characters’ horses and mules, packed food and all. “That’s all right,” one player snarled, in character. “We’ll eat the monsters we 
  kill—wyverns first!” Then he looked at me, out of character, and asked, “We can do that, right? I mean, they’re edible, aren’t they?” The 
  Realms has a history, and these wouldn’t be the first hungry adventurers (or foraging peddlers or marching soldiers), so . . .
  
  Chapter 3
  88
   
  Large, wealthy Tethyrian households seldom 
  serve fish in any form; the meal of choice for 
  those who fancy themselves of discerning taste 
  among the wealthy is spitted fowl. This usually 
  means skewers of many small quail and other 
  forest game birds that have been marinated, par-
  tially boiled in broth, and then finished by being 
  turned over a fire as the melted fats of boar and 
  other beasts are ladled over them (and the result-
  ing flames roar).
   
  Children, nursing mothers, and sick folk drink 
  either mint water or warmed mead with every 
  meal. The usual beverages for other folk are the 
  beer made in every household and a clear, faintly 
  yellow, bitter white wine from southern Tethyr 
  called llurdren or just llur (or less polite things, 
  by outlanders encountering it for the first time). 
  Farmers who keep livestock (and their immedi-
  ate neighbors) drink the milk of goats and cows, 
  but most milk goes into making the sharp-fla-
  vored (like real-world extra old Cheddar) orange, 
  crumbly local cheeses (called by such names 
  as Aerdruth and Hammaree, after the long-
  dead Tethyrians credited with concocting their 
  recipes).
   
  Berry mash (made of boiled, crushed, over-
  ripe fruit, when in season) is drunk, but tends to 
  act—and be used—more as a laxative than a bev-
  erage. No other juices appear on menus, though 
  no one cutting or biting into fruit would dream of 
  wasting the juice that gushes forth. For that rea-
  son, cutting is done in or over bowls that are then 
  drunk from.
   
  Sausages aren’t unknown in Tethyr, but tend to 
  be purchased from northern Calimshan. (A taste 
  for the highly spiced Calishite meats is slowly 
  spreading north.) It’s rare for smoked meat or 
  livestock to be imported into Tethyr, which has 
  more than enough of both already. In winter, 
  root soups are popular, as are stews made from 
  the tough bits of slaughtered animals and stored 
  vegetables that must be used before they rot. 
  Tethyrian cuisine tends to be simple and lightly 
  seasoned, as befits a land that has an abundance 
  of good, fresh food.
  Elven Cuisine
  Elves have created and refined a huge variety of 
  incredibly complicated special feast dishes, some 
  involving cantrips that allow dry ingredients to 
  be “breezed” (a human observer would probably 
  describe this as “swirl-mixing” the ingredients 
  in midair). More modest everyday elven fare 
  across the Realms is far simpler. Wine is com-
  monly drunk with elven meals, a dry vintage with 
  main fare and a sweeter quaff to finish. Most 
  elven wines aren’t nearly as intoxicating for elves 
  as most human wines are for humans—but some 
  humans and halflings find elven wines potent in-
  deed. Most dwarves find elven wines both weak 
  and odd-tasting.
   
  Quaffs/Slakes (nonalcoholic): Sprucebark 
  quaff, used to cleanse the palate and freshen the 
  breath before and after meals; mint water; and 
  various unfermented berry-juice drinks.
   
  Vegetables (eaten raw, sometimes diced and 
  fried with herbs and other vegetables): Brown-
  buds (brown Faerûnian wild forest radishes); 
  chives; coushoots (the green new shoots of certain 
  forest vines, such as chokevine and thaelthorn); 
  cress; greenspear (asparagus, a staple with many 
  elves, both raw and steamed with herbs); hot-
  whips (spring onions); leeks; parsley; searshoots 
  (wild Faerûnian vine onions, a staple of elven cui-
  sine—if left to dry until fall, they grow as hot as 
  garlic, but don’t impart pungent odors to an eat-
  er’s breath); and various ferns, from fiddleheads 
  to stewed broadleaves.
   
  Fruits: Rhubarb; roseapple (a mild-flavored 
  applelike fruit that grows at the thorny junctures 
  of the rosethorn, a vine that grows abundantly in 
  the Heartlands); and many sorts of berries.
   
  Soups (usually served cold): Blackbark soup, 
  which is literally the stewed bark of four or five 
  different sorts of forest bushes, and which tastes 
  and looks a little like a thick beef stew; blalatha 
  soup, which is made from certain mushrooms, 
  diced and then boiled; darblalatha soup, which is 
  made from certain mushrooms, diced, then fried 
  with leeks, and then mixed and boiled; haendur 
  soup, which is made by simmering glow worms 
  with seasoned sharp-tasting leaves; leek soup; 
  snake soup, made by taking four sorts of snakes 
  and beheading and then boiling them until their 
  skins separate from the flesh and can be dis-
  carded; and turtle soup.
   
  Meat and Fish (some elves eat flesh, some 
  do not): Groundsnake, beheaded and roasted on 
  skewers over a fire; hooroun, which is moose, 
  always marinated with herbs to counteract the 
  natural seasonal tastes the meat gains from the 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  89
  One of my favorites. Having trouble finding stirges? Substitute pork ribs sprinkled with rosemary, tarragon, or diced fresh chives, bacon if 
  not too salty, or even leftover pork chop if not too well done or dry (if it is, marinate it in half-and-half beer and barbecue sauce). For all too 
  obvious reasons, blood sausage will probably be closer to the taste of a Faerûnian stirge, mind you. Doesn’t appeal? Well, sell your stirge kills 
  in the next village, to someone too hungry to be choosy.
  
  Chapter 3
  90
  moose’s eating habits; lulleth, which is a thick 
  stew made of either muskrat, shrew, vole, or 
  branchcat (a tree-climbing cross between a mink 
  and a raccoon); boar, which most elves dislike, 
  prepared the same way as lulleth; seared rabbit; 
  silvereyes, which is a fish stew of silverflash and 
  other small forest stream fish; sornstag, which is 
  roasted hotspice (curried) venison; surkyl, which 
  is porcupine with its belly slashed to insert leek 
  and herbs, then rolled in clay and fire-baked so 
  that the hide and quills can be removed with 
  hardened mud shell; and lastly, thaenwing, which 
  is spiced-and-diced grouse, partridge, quail, and 
  woodguth (wild turkey). Most elves are revolted 
  by the thought of eating owls, which they deem 
  intelligent souls, and they believe that dining on 
  raptors brings misfortune on oneself and one’s 
  kin.
   
  Trail Food: Marruth (sometimes disparag-
  ingly called root pies by dwarves and humans) are 
  pastries into which spiced and herbed mashes of 
  vegetables have been baked. Once cooled, these 
  pastries are rolled into rallow leaves (heavy, oily, 
  waterproof broadleaves) to keep them from rot-
  ting, and carried for eating cold when on the 
  move. Mint nut cheese, nuts, and dried berries 
  are also popular trail food, as is taece, which re-
  sembles a brown, finger-length sardine and is 
  made of fire-dried, tiny forest-stream fish. These 
  fish contain a lot of fat, and are “crunched” (eaten 
  whole, bones and all).
   
  Desserts: Mint jelly and tarts made of various 
  berries, sweetened with a mash of berry juices.
  Drow Cuisine
  The green wine of the drow is made from or-
  bloren, an Underdark rock fungus, distilled in a 
  mixture of water and the juice of another sort of 
  subterranean fungus.
   
  Orbloren is an abundant, greenish vegetation 
  that grows on moist rock walls. It is not nutri-
  tious, but it is also not harmful either. To be 
  made into wine, it must be boiled in water into 
  which another sort of fungus—abundant gray 
  scaly scabs of marrult (imagine dun-hued slices of 
  pepperoni thrown against a stone wall and stick-
  ing, in clusters)—has been crushed. Not much 
  marrult is needed to make the water right for 
  distilling the orbloren, but lots of marrult yields 
  the richest, most tasty, and most highly valued 
  green wine.
   
  The distillate is captured in a cold metal hood-
  and-bowl affair above the boiling vessel. It is then 
  chilled in the dark, often by immersing metal 
  containers of it in subterranean streams, for forty 
  days or so. After that, it is drinkable green wine. 
  If drunk earlier, it burns the tongue and throat. 
  If it is murky, adding just a few grains of salt will 
  clear it. It keeps for years, unless boiled, which 
  gives it a disgusting burnt taste and a black, oily 
  hue. It’s still not poisonous—just horrible.
   
  There are strong drow alcoholic drinks that 
  use spider venom or secretions as ingredients, but 
  don’t believe the rumors: Green wine is not one 
  of them.
   
  Drow eat a wide variety of lichens stewed into 
  soups, as well as Underdark worms, insects (fried 
  in pack-lizard oil), and lizard flesh. Lolth-wor-
  shipers do not eat arachnids.
  Gnome and Halfling Cuisine
  Haflings tend to dwell among humans and often 
  make their livings producing food for humans—
  especially baked goods, stews, and sauces, but 
  also portable foods such as sausages and wheels 
  of cheese. They also make versions of all of these 
  edibles for themselves that differ from the human 
  versions in texture and seasonings. Halflings 
  prize the chewy, rubbery consistency disliked by 
  most humans, and halflings hate strong human 
  spicing such as pepper, vastly preferring the sub-
  tle, gentle meldings of various herbs. In winter, 
  most halfling homes have two ongoing stews sim-
  mering on the hearth: a light broth that can be 
  drunk by the tankard, and a heavy broth, which is 
  full of lumps of meat and vegetables.
   
  Halflings dominate the populations of two 
  Heartlands locations, Secomber and Corm Orp, 
  so these places provide a glimpse of what half-
  lings produce when left to their druthers. In both 
  settlements, cuisine is dominated by flavored 
  cheeses, wines and table grapes, and goat and 
  sheep flesh prepared in many ways.
   
  In Corm Orp, local hin produce pottery from 
  the rich local clays, and grapes in profusion. The 
  common grapes are both sour wine grapes and 
  “blue eyes,” edible grapes named for their color 
  that grow in halfling-fist-sized clusters. Corm 
  Orp produces wines and grape-based dyes for 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  91
  export, and mixed food crops for local consump-
  tion. Many goats and sheep are kept in the hills 
  overlooking Corm Orp, yielding milk, wool, and 
  cheese. The cheese made from these goats and 
  sheep is a soft, buttery yellow substance called 
  Orthin (after its long-dead first maker); it’s not 
  much different from real-life Brie, but is never 
  runny and has a very thin rind. From time to 
  time, a few blankets made of wool or goat-hair are 
  exported, but the rest of what the herds yield—in-
  cluding all the meat—is consumed locally. It has 
  been accurately said that “cheese, bread, ale, and 
  more cheese are what fill a happy hin’s stomach.”
   
  Gnome cuisine is very like halfling cuisine, ex-
  cept that gnomes tend to make savory puddings. 
  These are typically mixed vegetables and meats 
  bound together in a rich gravy so heavy in natural 
  gelatin that the whole sets into quivering semi-so-
  lidity. Gnomes prefer large savory pies for family 
  meals, and sausages (or just drawstring sacks of 
  cut-up, cold spiced meats) and very sweet dessert 
  tarts for portable individual meals. Gnomes tend 
  to like thick, dark, heavy beer, often fortified into 
  something much more fiery. So where a halfling 
  looks for cheese, a gnome turns to savory pud-
  ding. Gnome puddings made for travel are often 
  sewn into skins, like real-world haggis.
  Dwarven Cuisine
  Among humans, dwarves are known to be hearty 
  eaters—especially of roasts that a human would 
  consider dry and overdone—and are legendary for 
  their prodigious capacity for ale and strong drink. 
  They avidly devour food so salty that a human 
  would shudder, but seem little attracted to sweets. 
   
  Down in their mines, dwarves always keep 
  rock salt handy, and they lick salt from the “living 
  rock” around them as well. Food is whatever can 
  be caught—or must be fought—in the caverns, 
  eaten raw if need be but preferably cooked, with 
  an always-going simmer-pot to render tendons, 
  fat, and blood down into gravy.
   
  Dwarves won’t eat orc flesh unless they are 
  starving. Orc blood in gravy, however, is perfectly 
  acceptable. Like humans, dwarves have depended 
  on rothé to expand across the northern regions, 
  and their tradition of axe-throwing was born from 
  hunting rothé, deer, and other fleet-footed beasts 
  in the mountains and rolling hills of the Realms.
   
  These days, by preference, dwarves are hearty 
  meat eaters. Vegetables (except for raw parsnips, 
  which most dwarves carry and gnaw on as snacks) 
  are mere garnish. Sausages are subsistence food 
  for the trail, nothing more than “fillbelly” (the 
  dwarves’ term for edibles eaten to sustain life 
  rather than for pleasure). Cheese and milk fall 
  into the same category, good only for fuel and not 
  considered “real food.”
   
  A guilty secret among dwarves is their love 
  for certain small cave-worms and earthworms, 
  munched raw. These are a prized and addictive 
  candy to many dwarves and are the reason why 
  a dwarf who butchers livestock always looks for 
  tapeworms and other parasites of such beasts’ in-
  nards. Dwarf-only dens (city cellar alehouses that 
  lack signs and usually have several entrances from 
  adjacent cellars belonging to other businesses or 
  residences) always set out bowls of live worms on 
  tables for drinkers to take freely. If they want pa-
  trons to leave, collecting these bowls is a silent but 
  firm—and except in rare instances, well heeded—
  signal to go. (Now, and quietly.)
  FOOD FROM  
  THE WILD
  In most wilderland areas of the Realms, outside 
  of an easy bowshot away from any caravan road, 
  Faerûn still teems with readily edible plants and 
  game, unless recent forest fires or other scourges 
  have taken their toll locally.
   
  For instance, in the Skull Gorge along the 
  River Reaching in the Heartlands, wayfarers can 
  readily find wild food along the swift, icy-cold 
  river. From the Misty Stair cascades to below the 
  Gorge, the river is the spawning beds of dreel—
  short, fat, green-black river eels that live on algae 
  and carrion, and keep the river waters clean and 
  clear. They taste like mucus but are quite nour-
  ishing, and if fried with the right herbs or spices, 
  can actually taste nice. Due to their appearance, 
  dreel are sometimes called trollfingers.
   
  Also prevalent in this area are dartflash, which 
  are small-human-palm-sized, bony silver fish that 
  swim in short, very fast darting-straight-ahead 
  rushes. Dartflash are usually netted or scooped 
  out of the water in handheld nets. They are edi-
  ble, often steamed until the bones are soft enough 
  
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  to crunch and eat, though a human adult needs a 
  helm-full pile of them to make a meal.
   
  Lastly, mursk are quite common. Mursk are 
  fat, slow-moving, green-brown fish that are un-
  pleasantly oily in taste, but can be fried, allowing 
  the cook to skim off the oil for use in lamps.
   
  Across the Heartlands, traethe (tray-thh), a 
  kind of wild radish, grows abundantly and can be 
  plucked and eaten freely (except, of course, in city 
  garden plots or on a farm). Many adventurers, 
  pilgrims, and other wayfarers fall into the habit 
  of stooping, picking, cleaning off the worst of the 
  earth, and eating as they walk throughout the 
  day. Most traethe are mild, with a hot aftertaste, 
  and are considered boring but functional fare.
   
  Humans dwelling near swamps tend to use 
  lots of marsh plants for cooking and alchemy, and 
  eels and savory, clam-like swamp mollusks for 
  eating. A large marsh is one of the richest places 
  for foraging in all the Realms; the children of a 
  household in such an area can expect to spend 
  most of their days playing, since they can gather 
  enough edibles for a large evening meal in a rela-
  tively short time before sunset.
   
  Finding fresh, clean drinkable water near a 
  marsh isn’t always easy. However, if one doesn’t 
  mind drinking brownish, muck-tasting water, 
  there are herbs that can be dropped into contain-
  ers of water to “kill the squigglies” and make the 
  water safe to drink, and also some forest plants 
  that can be boiled for a juice to added to marsh 
  water to precipitate the floating brown sedi-
  ment out of it and alter its taste to something less 
  strong. Other tisanes (teas) of rose petals and 
  other floral petals can then be added to the water 
  to make it quite pleasant to taste. Selling “sweet” 
  water in villages along trade routes is a wide-
  spread, sustaining industry across the Realms.
  Masters of the Marsh
  Lizardfolk dwelling in most marshlands will trade 
  warily with other races, if they are not threatened 
  and if they can do such trading in ways that don’t 
  require leaving the vicinity of the swamp, because 
  they feel very vulnerable away from easy reach of 
  the waters. Such bargaining must be done without 
  a lot of speech or long bargaining, since lizard-
  folk will not put up with such. Lizardfolk are not 
  unthinkingly, unobservantly stupid; within their 
  home area, they know the land very well, and tend 
  to be cunning.
   
  Lizardfolk can set snares, flush out prey by 
  working in well-organized hunting bands, are 
  stealthy foragers, and often prepare hideouts in 
  overgrown wilderness areas to keep themselves 
  hidden from the eyes of humans and others who 
  might offer them harm. They are particularly 
  learned in what swamp plants can be crushed and 
  smeared on themselves to entirely baffle anything 
  trying to identify them by scent—as well as what 
  undergrowth they must pass through to thwart 
  those trying to track them. They turn hostile if 
  they think they are being stealthily surrounded, 
  or being distracted by one group of traders while 
  another group readies an attack.
   
  Some lizardfolk know what diets and marsh 
  substances smeared on the skins of snakes will 
  make those reptiles mate more often and produce 
  more young, and the lizardfolk raise and tend 
  such snakes to make sure the maximum num-
  ber survive and grow to adult size to keep the 
  breeding stock strong and to fill the curled-leaf 
  “platters” that hold lizardfolk meals. There is no 
  truth to the rumor that lizardfolk won’t eat the 
  flesh of any reptile; snakes and small lizards are 
  staples of their diet.
  DRINKS OF CHOICE
  On a daily basis, most Faerûnians drink water, 
  grass broth (a salty soup made by boiling water 
  with local greenery in it, sometimes augmented 
  with dumplings to make it a meal), teas, cider, 
  and small beer (household brewed ale). When 
  people dine out, or visit the local tavern of an eve-
  ning, stronger drinks are usually consumed.
  Coffee
  Known as kaeth or kaethae in the Realms, coffee 
  is rare north of Calimshan and the southern Vil-
  hon shores, except in the most cosmopolitan ports 
  such as Waterdeep, Athkatla, and Westgate.
   
  Its major sources are located south and east of 
  Durpar, about halfway up the east side of Anau-
  roch, and overseas to the west in Maztica.
   
  Sacks of beans from overseas are brought in to 
  Baldur’s Gate and from there shipped elsewhere, 
  mainly south to Calimshan and the Tashalar. 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  93
  WILLIAM O’CONNOR
  These beans are large, soft (crumbly), and red-
  dish brown.
   
  The Bedine of Anauroch call coffee “qahwa” 
  or just “qaw,” and they trade little in it. Since the 
  reappearance of Shade, the surviving Bedine con-
  sume almost all of their qaw themselves. Through 
  the machinations of the D’tarig, a tiny trickle of 
  Bedine beans formerly reached Zhentil Keep, and 
  thence Hillsfar and Sembia. This source is now 
  extremely unreliable and paltry, though wealthy 
  Sembian coffee-drinkers have bid the price up 
  high. Anaurian beans are small, hard, and are so 
  dark a brown that they look black.
   
  The beans from beyond Durpar are usually 
  known as Thondur’s, after a now-deceased trader 
  who for a time controlled the entire trade in cof-
  fee reaching Calimshan, the Tashalar, and the 
  Vilhon. Thondur amassed a staggering fortune, 
  much of which has never been found because 
  of his habit of establishing hundreds of secret 
  caches, all over Faerûn. After he was publicly torn 
  apart by a “pet” dragon some sixty years ago, his 
  fortune was entirely lost. Thondur’s beans are 
  now more plentiful and cheaper, thanks to the 
  shattering of his monopoly, and they form the 
  bulk of the supply enjoyed in southern lands of 
  the Realms. Thondur’s beans are large, have a 
  pronounced cleft or depressed line running their 
  length (making them somewhat like cowrie shells 
  in shape), and have a bluish tint to their chestnut 
  brown color.
   
  Although the coffee beverages of the Realms 
  vary from place to place, they’re all derived the 
  same way: the stunted mountainside coffee trees 
  yield beans that are dried in the sun, put into 
  sacks, and shipped long distances to consumers 
  who grind the beans just before brewing. Sacks 
  of beans are put into coffin-like, battered, reused 
  Folk in Faerûn imbibe all sorts of strange beverages. Some do this, so they say, because the water can’t be trusted. Others, such as this 
  inquisitive drow, might sample a drink that looks delectable just to see what will happen. 
  
  Chapter 3
  94
  crates for wagon travel or barge trips, but they 
  are tossed loose into ship hulls, so they can be ar-
  ranged evenly as stable ballast.
   
  Coffee is drunk black in Calimshan and the 
  Tashalar, its taste often altered with dried, ground 
  nuts and roots and even sprinklings as strong as 
  ginger. In Sembia, on the other hand, it is usually 
  mixed with melted chocolate or liqueurs.
   
  Tankards are usually used for coffee drink-
  ing in northerly places, but in southern places, 
  small palm-sized bowls with out-flaring tops and 
  drinking spouts are favored. These are known 
  formally as kavvar or colloquially as just cups, 
  and coffee is formally called kaeth and colloqui-
  ally known as fireswallow. Bad coffee is described 
  with any handy oath in northern lands, but in 
  the South it’s ortulag (or-tu-lag), derived from a 
  now-defunct dialect word meaning “warmed-over 
  chamber pot rinse.”
   
  Coffee is prepared and consumed in a variety 
  of ways in Faerûn, from a thick black near-syrup 
  stirred into sweet liqueur in Sembia and Ches-
  senta, to roasted beans eaten whole, to the more 
  familiar brew drunk black, sometimes with medi-
  cines or mint leaves sprinkled over the surface. 
  This black coffee is made by stewing the beans in 
  a pot over a fire or a hearth, and is hence much 
  stronger than what most of us in the real world 
  are accustomed to. Brewed coffee is the most 
  popular form of consumption in Calimshan, the 
  Tashalar, the Heartlands, and the North, but ped-
  dlers, explorers, and adventurers often chew the 
  beans as they travel.
  Tea
  Unlike with coffee, few teas in the Realms are 
  shipped far, or sold for high prices. However, 
  clubs of tea-fanciers in Athkatla, Calimport, and 
  other rich cities are filled with wealthy connois-
  seurs who’ll pay much for favorite blends.
   
  This limited commerce in tea doesn’t occur 
  because tea isn’t popular or well thought of. It’s 
  because the majority of teas in the Realms are 
  tisanes, or infusions, or herbal teas—made from 
  leaves of various plants other than “tea” plants. 
  Moreover, the vast majority of tea beverages are 
  made from local wild plants, and travelers in the 
  Realms expect teas to vary in taste from place 
  to place—so not a lot of long-distance shipping 
  (from one realm to another) goes on.
   
  Most crofters and other country folk view tea 
  as something they (or their children) glean from 
  the leaves of wild bushes that they pluck as oppor-
  tunity and need arise. The leaves are usually kept 
  in metal coffers with “sticky-rim” lids (coated 
  with an edible oil or gum to keep air out). Un-
  like in the real world, the container is worth a lot 
  more than the tea!
   
  Most teas are made by pouring boiling water 
  onto a container full of leaves, and then strain-
  ing the leaves out. In the poorest households, 
  the leaves are often reused; people dry them on a 
  shield in the sun, then put them back in the pot 
  (perhaps along with a few fresh leaves) before 
  brewing again.
   
  Tea is always drunk clear, never with milk. 
  However, murky brews from powdered leaves 
  whisked in a bowl are the norm in the Shining 
  South, and in ports where travelers from many 
  places mix, all sorts of tea-making habits and 
  techniques are used and copied. Tea in most din-
  ing houses (restaurants) replaces the real-world 
  “dusty glass of water on the table.”
   
  Except for places that have docking or gate-
  entry fees levied by the conveyance (a wagon or a 
  ship), no one levies import or export duties on tea. 
  (“Tea? Tea? Pass, merchant, and may you know 
  better fortune within than to have to trade in 
  tea!”) Even someone with a caravan-full wouldn’t 
  be charged duty, though he or she might thereaf-
  ter be watched, as if a madman or a liar who must 
  actually be up to something else.
  Beer
  Like teas, beer is made locally all over the 
  Realms, and the flavor and appearance of brews 
  vary widely. Beer is a cheap, daily drink often en-
  joyed with gusto.
   
  In beer making and drinking, the Heartlands 
  city of Berdusk is typical of many locales, and 
  so can serve as a model. Made-in-every-kitchen 
  “small beer” is generally sneered at in Berdusk, as 
  so much good beer is made locally. The alehouses 
  serve “red,” an orange-red, fiery (peppery) hard 
  cider; a fiery, black, almost licorice-tasting smoky 
  stout known as Old Dark; and a lot of light ales.
   
  These ales, called goldens, are wheat beers 
  sweetened with honey and flavored with all man-
  ner of local berries. Five of them are detailed 
  below.
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  95
   
  Annasker: Named for the family who first 
  made it, annasker is a sparkling, pinkish pale ale 
  that tastes sweet but tart, like lemonade mixed 
  with several berry juices.
   
  Belbuck: A halfling-brewed beer, and by far 
  the most popular, belbuck is sweet and a translu-
  cent green thanks to fermented herbs that make it 
  both strong and minty. Like spearmint, it clears 
  other tastes, and it chills the throat like menthol. 
  It’s deceptive; many a traveler has drunk deeply 
  before feeling the effects, and afterward been un-
  able to rise and walk across a taproom unaided.
   
  Darndarr: A sandy or nutty flavored beer, 
  darndarr goes silkily well with both seared meats 
  and fish. This ale keeps well, even out in the sun. 
  The small earthenware jugs it is served in collapse 
  into powder if flung or swung against something 
  hard, making them into preferred “drench peo-
  ple” missiles in pranks. Many locals have crocks 
  and kegs of darndarr around the house for casual 
  drinking and for use as a marinade or to “jug” 
  perishables in, for longer keeping.
   
  Helmatoss: A sweet, oily, clear pale ale, hel-
  matoss sits heavily on the stomach. Some say it 
  was named for the long-dead tavernkeeper Alanra 
  Helmatoss, and others say it’s named for the vio-
  lent retching it induces in those who overimbibe. 
  In smaller doses, it’s known to neutralize many 
  poisons and settle raging acidic stomachs—Harp-
  ers have tested both contentions and proven them 
  true—and is definitely an acquired taste. Those 
  who have acquired that taste often drink great 
  amounts and swear by it, whereas one large tan-
  kard will leave a first-timer spewing. Warning: 
  highly flammable!
   
  Zeskorr: A dark brown pale ale, zeskorr tastes 
  of salt and, some say, fish; others just say it tastes 
  strange. Apt to upset the stomachs of the unwary, 
  zeskorr is deeply enjoyed by those who have ac-
  quired a taste for it.
  Cider
  More popular than beer in many places, cider 
  can be sweet and nonalcoholic or hard (alcoholic), 
  and anything from semi-sweet to bitter. Cider is 
  cheap and easy to make in apple-growing country 
  (the mid- to southern Heartlands), and if it “goes 
  off,” it can be used as vinegar in both cooking and 
  preserving (pickling). The strong reek of cider 
  vinegar is used by some folk to confuse creatures 
  that track by scent, such as the war dogs used 
  for perimeter defense by some nobles, and track-
  ing dogs used by authorities everywhere. Though 
  many children and women prefer the taste of 
  cider over more bitter beers, cider is not gener-
  ally considered a lesser drink than beer. It doesn’t 
  travel as well or keep as long as beer does when 
  handling and conditions aren’t optimum, and so 
  it is less available in locations not near to apple 
  country.
  Wine
  Faerûnian wines range from opaque, glossy black 
  to clear and nigh-colorless, from sugary sweet 
  to “wrinklemouth” bitter, and from local “tath” 
  (poor or very ordinary) to expensive, far-traveled 
  “dance in your glass” vintages sought after by 
  collectors, argued over by snobs, and unobtain-
  able by the ordinary “jack in the street.” Literally 
  thousands of vintages exist, from the little-known 
  and the local to those whose volume fills hun-
  dreds of casks that are shipped far across Faerûn 
  for local bottling. In particular, the production 
  of Tethyr’s coastal vineyards has climbed steadily 
  throughout the 1300s DR and 1400s DR.
   
  Elves, and to a lesser extent half-elves, can 
  consume large amounts of wine without becom-
  ing inebriated, whereas red wines contain some 
  substance not yet identified that leaves gnomes 
  reelingly imbalanced—or puts them rapidly to 
  sleep—after they imbibe only a small amount.
   
  Whereas beer kegs are intended to be tapped 
  with a bung or a spigot and slowly emptied tan-
  kard by tankard, wine kegs are more often stood 
  on end and opened (the upper end removed) to 
  fill many bottles or skins—or both—in one ses-
  sion, leaving the keg empty. This custom has led 
  many sly persons to entertain notions of using wine 
  kegs as smuggling containers, usually by float-
  ing sealed containers in the kegs seemingly full of 
  wine. These containers are usually animal-bladder 
  bags sewn shut and waterproofed with some sort 
  of grease or better, an elven-devised concoction 
  that won’t taint the wine. This means of smug-
  gling has become so prevalent that authorities in 
  some places, such as Baldur’s Gate and Athkatla, 
  routinely stop wine shipments to open a random 
  keg or two. This generates the expected complaints 
  from shippers that the law keepers spoil and spill 
  or even drink much of the wine when doing such 
  
  Chapter 3
  96
  inspections—but a lot of contraband has been 
  found and seized, and such seizures are increas-
  ing, not petering out, as the popularity of the tried 
  and true “float it in” method of smuggling soars to 
  ever-greater heights.
  Stronger Drink
  All hard liquor is known in the Realms, and fa-
  vored by dwarves, gnomes, and goblinkin over 
  all other drinks. As the very old dwarf joke goes, 
  about a “stalwart” served tea: “Water? I’m thirsty, 
  not dirty!”
   
  Increasingly, among humans, spirits aren’t 
  drunk straight, but are mixed with other drinks to 
  increase the potency of the secondary drink.
   
  Generally, in the warmer climes, and as far 
  north as Amn, intoxicating drinks are blended for 
  taste reasons, sometimes mixed with fresh fruit 
  juices. However, they are almost never deliber-
  ately made stronger by combining one alcoholic 
  drinkable with another.
   
  That said, from Westgate northward, and 
  Beregost northward on the Sword Coast, most 
  inns and taverns serve fortified drinkables. These 
  are of two sorts: the booze that the house waters 
  down habitually and every patron knows about, 
  and the mixed drinks that are done on the spot, at 
  the request of a patron or when a patron accepts 
  an offer to “warm” his or her drink.
   
  The first group of warmed drinks includes zzar 
  (Waterdhavian fortified wine) and what’s called 
  deep ale or fire ale (beer to which a grain-based 
  spirit has been added). These beverages might 
  be watered to make them go farther if the taste 
  is harsh (and to save some coins), and are often 
  fortified with distilled spirits. These spirits are 
  usually potato-based, akin to real-world vodka: 
  essentially clear, colorless, and tasteless.
   
  The second group of warmed drinks includes 
  those that approach the elaborate recipes of real-
  world cocktails, but such beverages are found only 
  in places like Waterdeep, Silverymoon, Luskan, 
  Neverwinter, Sembia, Westgate, and the coastal 
  ports of the Dragon Reach. Usually this kind of 
  warmed drink is a simple “Warm your wine by 
  stirring in a little throatslake, goodsir?” concoc-
  tion (“throatslake” here meaning an unspecified 
  distilled spirit). If the throatslake’s strong taste 
  clashes with the wine, the result can be horrible.
  THE LATEST FASHION
  Most folk in the Realms are wealthy enough to 
  have extensive wardrobes, and do not stray far 
  from practicality in everyday wear. Many have but 
  one “fine wear” garment for special occasions.
   
  Any city or market town will have seamstresses 
  who alter garments, cut down clothing into other 
  items, and dye and adorn clothes to make them 
  flashier and stimulate sales. Adornments (cheap 
  “feathers-and-buckles” jewelry employing enam-
  eled metals, cut-glass false gems, and painted, 
  dyed, and sculpted wire and cloth rather than 
  expensive components) are always popular, and 
  almost all new-garment clothiers in any city are 
  accustomed to doing small on-the-spot alterations 
  to make a sale.
  Everyday Wear
  Children are often clad in smocks (knee-to-calf-
  length loose “shirt dresses”), with leggings or 
  pull-on hose (long stockings tied to an underbelt 
  to keep them from “riding down”) with boots, 
  clogs, slippers for indoor wear, or bare feet.
   
  Youths of both genders often wear hand-me-
  downs, and usually adopt a style to distinguish 
  themselves from their parents’ generation (femi-
  nine clothing rearranged and belted to bare 
  one shoulder, or supplemented by scarves worn 
  around shoulders or at wrists or belt).
   
  Adults tend to wear what’s best suited for work, 
  with “fashion” outfits reserved for cities and large 
  towns, market-moots, and special occasions.
   
  Both genders customarily wear breeches (lace-
  up-front trousers, often leather) and boots or 
  covered-toe sandals. In hot climates, smocks and 
  woven wide-brimmed hats are often worn, aug-
  mented with leggings (worn under smocks when 
  working in thorny fields and underbrush, and by 
  women in winter for warmth, under gowns).
   
  It’s rare for men to wear gowns, but women 
  often wear tunics and jerkins. Skirts (as opposed 
  to gowns) are rare. Conservative gowns are ankle 
  to mid-calf length, and expose little bosom, but 
  there’s nothing daring about bared arms.
   
  In the Realms, a tunic is a long shirt, usually 
  open-fronted and laced up, often gathered at the 
  waist with a belt, and usually meant to be worn 
  overlapping one’s breeches (though a light tunic 
  may be tucked in at the waist).
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  97
   
  A Faerûnian jerkin is a heavier fitted garment 
  that fastens down the front or front side with a 
  series of toggles and loops, and always overlaps 
  breeches, often extending to not far above the 
  knee. It often has shoulder padding and a stand-
  up collar, and might have external or internal 
  pockets (a tunic never has pockets).
   
  With their clothing, Faerûnians haughty or 
  humble usually wear belts and baldrics (belts 
  worn diagonally from waist to shoulder) to hold 
  garments up, and to hang sheaths and scabbards 
  for weapons or tools on.
   
  Popular augmentations are the tammalar, a 
  baldric of many pouches (sometimes removable, 
  but more often securely sewn on); the bracelar, a 
  leather wrist-bracer with pouches sewn to it (often 
  used by merchants to hold ready coin when sell-
  ing); and the scrip, which in recent centuries has 
  come to mean a large piece of leather or cloth 
  with sewn-on ties or thongs, and sewn-on loops 
  or sleeves for those ties to go through. It is gath-
  ered up (around goods, to form a carrysack) into 
  a bundle, and kept that way by threading ties 
  through the sleeves (and a user’s belt, to carry it 
  at the hip or hanging from the rear waist).
  Cloaks and Daggers
  Nobility and the wealthy wear tailored, ankle-
  length greatcloaks for cold weather, and soft 
  leather longcoats for driving rain, and when deep 
  snow or heat makes a greatcloak too much.
   
  They also have what less wealthy Faerûnians 
  must make do with in all kinds of bad weather: 
  weathercloaks. These are near-ankle-length 
  cloaks, lighter than leather and lacking fastenings 
  beyond brooches (pins). A weathercloak tends to 
  blow about, and provides poor protection against 
  cold, because it clings tightly to the arms and 
  shoulders when pinned shut.
   
  Folk also wear swirlcloaks (half-cloaks worn 
  for looks rather than utility, that hang from one 
  shoulder and usually drape to just below the 
  waist), and shoulder-cloaks (shawls, always cloth 
  lined with cloth and never an open-work weave).
   
  A conservative rural or town matron would 
  wear ankle-length gowns with a shoulder-cloak. 
  (If gardening or out walking in wet conditions 
  or muddy places, she wears breeches and leather 
  boots under her gowns, and might hike up gowns 
  to her knee and belt them up at that length.)
   
  Thin, “for looks” cloaks are habitually con-
  structed with a pocket along collar or shoulders, 
  so the cloak can be rolled tightly, stuffed into this 
  pocket, and the result hung from a belt or around 
  the wearer’s neck on its own sewn-on thong.
   
  Some heavier cloaks sport drawstring-closed 
  (and then knotted) miniature pockets along lower 
  edges, for easily carrying emergency coin (fares 
  for conveyances, a night’s lodging, a meal), and 
  to double as weights to keep the cloak down in a 
  breeze (prevents embarrassment or momentary 
  blinding by having a cloak blow up into the wear-
  er’s face).
   
  Expensive cloaks have a deep, small-opening 
  “handy pouch” pocket, usually at lower rib level, 
  for carrying small items (a kerchief, or supporting 
  the weight of a spare purse hanging on a thong 
  around the neck). Thieves often use such pockets 
  to carry garottes, or thongs for binding wrists and 
  ankles.
   
  Cloaks with larger pockets usually also have 
  linings that make identifying carried items dif-
  ficult. The bulk or bulge of carried items can 
  usually be seen (concealing a betraying shape is 
  why many merchants wear a loose scarf knot-
  ted to hang in an arc across their upper chests; 
  the scarf also covers mouth and nose in dusty 
  or stinky conditions), but a good cloak hampers 
  identification of what’s being carried.
   
  Peddlers, adventurers, nobility, royalty, and 
  “knaves” (opportunistic thieves) carry at least a 
  concealed dagger at all times, and often rather 
  more weaponry. Many folk employ hidden breast-
  plates and gorgets inside bodices, or jerkins 
  reinforced with armor plate.
  Headgear
  Hats vary widely with location and passing fash-
  ion. A style of headgear that often returns to 
  fashionable status is a prowed, peaked soft leather 
  cap (think Robin Hood), very long and thin, and 
  attached to a hair-comb so it won’t fall off easily 
  and to keep it raked at an angle to one side of the 
  head—and always “low in front, rear up at back.”
   
  Such caps sport at least two large, color-
  ful fluffy feathers, one on each side of the cap. 
  Fops and the haughty wear caps with nine or 
  more feathers stuffed in, raked back (plumes 
  to the rear). Some caps of this sort have gauze-
  work woven among the feathers to support tiny, 
  
  Chapter 3
  98
  dangling “sparkle” in the form of faceted gem-
  stones. Such headgear is formally known as a 
  fancy-me, but more commonly just as a dee.
   
  Headgear fashions tend to be widely popu-
  lar for two seasons, thereafter retained for a few 
  seasons more by those desiring to signal they are 
  not “irresponsible younglings” any longer. Rural 
  areas ignore hat fashions.
  Clothing with Style
  Those able to indulge in fashion usually dress 
  either to minimize perceived shortcomings in per-
  sonal appearance or to make a specific impression 
  (truly rich, or beyond-caring-about-coin rich, or 
  conservative, or “I’m an adventurer above all this 
  society nonsense,” or “I’m the special guest want-
  ing to stand out or surpass,” or “I belong here”).
   
  The cheapest “wealthy” style of dress is the 
  Realms equivalent of the little black dress—a 
  basic black gown with high collar and/or plunge 
  front, matching sash and boots, and a few pieces 
  of small, tasteful jewelry (moonstone or pearl ear-
  rings and perhaps a pendant and/or finger ring). 
  This look is never out of fashion except among a 
  wild gathering of the rebellious young, and even 
  then it can be “dressed down” by exchanging the 
  black sash for an orange one, pinning the gown 
  (to the inside of the sash) half-open to expose skin 
  or a chemise (lace-trimmed white silk for a classy 
  look, almost anything to present other images). 
  “Chathra” are petticoats adorned to be seen, and 
  in winter, fur cuffs and scarves are often added. 
  One fashion fallback is to wear a simple gown 
  with a “showy” trimmed slip or chemise (sized 
  for someone larger) over it, with a sash or a belt of 
  contrasting hue to “bind the whole look together.”
   
  Nobility and social climbers seek to set them-
  selves apart from commoners with ever-changing 
  fashions and arrays of specific accessories. Their 
  hirelings (staff) wear livery, or “greatsleeves” 
  (shoulder-to-wrist armbands of the family “color,” 
  pulled on over everyday garments).
  Other Races
  For one reason or another, the dictates of fashion 
  are not as much of a concern to elves, dwarves, 
  and other races as they are to humans.
   
  Over thousands of years, elven clothing has 
  changed from near-nakedness adorned with 
  growing plants worn as semi-garments, through 
  diaphanous, flowing robes extending to wrists 
  and ankles, to increasingly practical garments 
  (leather boots, belts, carry-pouches, and form-
  fitting clothing). These days, elves wear what they 
  please, expressing their individuality. Fashions 
  sometimes sweep a city or realm, but not since in-
  sular Cormanthan times have elves scorned fellow 
  elves as “out of fashion.” So both elves and half-
  elves wear just about anything.
   
  Dwarves, gnomes, orcs, and half-orcs tend to 
  prize practicality and “hard wear” in their choice 
  of garments, and to avoid bright hues. “Leather 
  and homespun” is their everyday dress, with 
  “haphazard wool, burlap, and dirt” being a less 
  polite description.
   
  Many halflings, goblins, and kobolds are 
  fashion chameleons. They usually seek to blend 
  in and wear clothing that permits quiet, agile 
  movement—but when celebration or formality 
  is in order, they explode into a riot of garments 
  displaying all manner of gaudy hues and adorn-
  ments, with frequent “color clashes” and 
  overblown impracticality.
  What Folk Wear Underneath
  Daily utilitarian undergarb for both men and 
  women on the lower half of the body is the gar-
  ment known as a clout. The first part of a clout 
  is a very tight leather, cloth, or cord belt worn 
  around the hips and held tight by multiple small 
  hooks (like those on real-world bras) on the front. 
  The second part of the clout is a long strip of 
  rectangular cloth, usually cotton, which is passed 
  between the legs, up through the front of the belt 
  to dangle down, and up through the back of the 
  belt to dangle down. In many cases, the dangling 
  front and back ends are designed to be tied to-
  gether, and the cloth can be folded in on itself for 
  extra absorbency or padding—such as when the 
  wearer expects to be riding a mount. Decorative, 
  “made to be seen” clouts and freshly perfumed 
  new clouts are sold in cities, market towns, and by 
  most passing peddlers.
   
  Women often wear a dethma, a tight cloth 
  breast binding or sling. This garment is the 
  equivalent of a modern sports bra, although in-
  stead of stretchy fabric covering a lot of skin, the 
  Realms version is more like a trough or shelf of 
  tightly stretched cloth sewn to a network of cords, 
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  99
  because stretchy fabric is largely unknown in the 
  Realms. In colder climates, soft hide bras are 
  worn most of the time.
   
  Which brings us to Faerûnian lingerie. The 
  Realms doesn’t use wire for breast support and 
  shaping, and corsets are laced-up boiled hide 
  without whalebone or any sort of stiffeners. Stom-
  achers that cinch the waist tight are popular, and 
  many have shaped panels for the hips and a top 
  shelf for support. Corsets are very common. Fat 
  male merchants and female goodwives just want-
  ing to “improve their shape, as meets the eye,” 
  don various foundation garments, meant to stay 
  hidden under clothing. Others wear all sorts of al-
  luring garments meant to shape the body, and at 
  the same time be displayed as adornment. Many 
  such garments have hidden pockets to carry a 
  coin or two, or a tiny knife or less weapon-like 
  item that’s been sharpened into a cutting edge.
   
  The highborn often wear underdresses of thin 
  cotton (like a real-world chemise). Low-cut peas-
  ant blouses and even lace trimmings are widely 
  seen on these garments, some of which are in-
  tended to show through around the edges of an 
  apron or a heavier overskirt. 
   
  Across Faerûn, erotic colors are black and 
  red, and provocative garments often feature 
  lace, straps, and panels of these hues. “Show” 
  nightgowns and nightshirts tend to be of opaque 
  greens, blues, and browns. Conservative un-
  derwear tends to be white, cream, beige, or the 
  natural hue of the material.
  Skin Adornment
  Aside from piercing the ears to wear earrings, 
  navels for wearing jewelry, and some clerics who 
  perform piercing for religious purposes, body 
  alterations of this sort are rare in the Realms. 
  Piercings that use bone fragments for adornment 
  are seen among humans, dwarves, gnomes, and 
  halflings in Chult, and among serpentfolk. Com-
  mon places for these types of adornments are the 
  ear, the lower jaw, and the forearm. These bone 
  pieces are usually shaped and polished into little 
  figurines or tooth-shapes marked with luck runes. 
  In the case of arcane spellcasters, the bones 
  themselves can serve as material components for 
  necromantic spells, and the runes they bear can 
  have magical uses.
  Hair Fashion
  In the Heartlands, the majority of men have facial 
  hair, in a wide variety of styles, though generally 
  only barbarian tribes attribute status or vigor to 
  the length of a man’s beard. In Calimshan and 
  the South, hair is often oiled or perfumed to keep 
  it smelling nice and free of bugs—a practice that 
  tends to get sneered at in the North. Other than 
  that, all fashions prevail. Aside from any local “in 
  this particular royal court” custom, there’s no 
  such thing as a fashionable—or unfashionable—
  sort of beard.
   
  In general, eastern and southern men in the 
  Realms tend to shave their chins bare and grow 
  long mustaches, “side-dagger” long sideburns 
  (also called “daggerboard”), and the like. North-
  ern men tend to have full beards, kept either long 
  or short as profession, daily safety, and practical-
  ity dictate. Longer “lipspike” (Van Dykes and 
  longer) beards are most common in the Vilhon 
  and the Shining South.
   
  Many minor magics and truly effective (if ex-
  pensive) ointments exist for altering hair color and 
  stimulating hair growth, sometimes at astonish-
  ing speeds such as inches per day. These all have 
  long and fanciful names like “Embelder’s Effica-
  cious Divine Dew.” Collectively, hair products 
  that change color or cause hair growth go by the 
  name of “thurdrixes.” The use of one can swiftly 
  and markedly alter a person’s appearance. There 
  are drinks reputed to affect hair growth, but most 
  such are useless.
   
  Skilled barbers (as opposed to hairdressers) are 
  rarer than they might be, principally due to the 
  fact that many family members cut each other’s 
  hair crudely, as needed, or even shorten hair by 
  the backwoods method of soaking it in mud at the 
  desired length, and burning off the hair beyond 
  the muddy part. Body hair is often trimmed or 
  removed, particularly in the South, by oiling and 
  then scraping the body, and unsightly hairs are 
  often plucked out.
   
  The presence or absence of beards and their 
  styles in the Realms is not linked to class, wealth, 
  nobility or royalty, or any other status. The closest 
  Realms beard fashions have to evoking status is 
  their adoption by minor religious fashions and the 
  passing popularity of a populace adopting beards 
  like that of a popular leader (such as Azoun IV of 
  Cormyr).
  
  Chapter 3
  100
  Both of these pages contain rough sketches of mine that were a response to a prototype sketch for the cover of the Realms boxed set (what 
  is now often called the “Old Gray Box,” or sometimes “FR0”). So the poses of the male and female characters come from that sketch. I was 
  asked to make sure the costumes “looked Realmsy,” so I was trying to shift them from a “hot climate/abbreviated brass/Conan-Frazetta-
  like” look to closer to what I saw as right for what Jeff Grubb dubbed the “Heartlands” of the Realms. “More Robin Hoody, please.”
  
  HEARTH AND HOME
  101
  Thanks to years of superb plays at the Stratford (Ontario) Festival, and the bill of largely Shakespearean plays put on there, I grew up  
  seeing all sorts of Hellenic, medieval, Renaissance, and fanciful costumes up close and “in the flesh,” so I knew what “looked like the 
  Realms” to me. Note the mention of the still-unpublished Realms short story “To Slay a Black Raven,” which tells how Mirt and Durnan 
  and Florin Falconhand helped Randal Morn reclaim Daggerdale from the Zhents’ Lord Malyk. Four wisecracking heroes rode in . . .
  
  102
  If kings are the brains and the brawn of the body 
  of Faerûn, the ones who determine borders, start 
  wars, and decree laws, then merchants and the 
  trade they foster are its beating heart and arter-
  ies. Merchants (and money) determine whose 
  throne is gold and whose is made of sticks bound 
  together. In the words of the sage Calathra “Lady 
  Coinmaster” Mralahard of Athkatla, “Flows of 
  coins are like the pumping blood of dragons—
  where they are hot and thick, life is vigorous, but 
  where they are cold and few, life is feeble.”
   
  To bards and other tale-tellers, intrigues are 
  thickest in the courts of rulers. But the truth is 
  that most intrigues are smaller, more sordid, and 
  more concerned with trade deals made in back 
  rooms, bribery, and favors done and returned.
   
  As King Palaghard II of Cormyr once fa-
  mously said, “Coins are what matter. And to 
  earn coins, one needs roads—or the love of Um-
  berlee.” Because storms at sea during his reign 
  made shipping an unreliable source of commerce, 
  to guarantee prosperity for Cormyr he had to 
  build, maintain, and patrol the roads, so mer-
  chants would prefer to ship by caravans, through 
  his kingdom. This state of affairs is still true; in 
  many lands, the respect that rulers receive from 
  MARK TEDIN
  4
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  103
  merchants depends on light taxation, little op-
  pression, and good roads.
   
  Of course, taxes can only be paid if you have 
  coin. Most folk would be wounded or worse try-
  ing to steal or seize coin, so they must work for it. 
  Everyone who doesn’t hunt for food needs a daily 
  dose of income just to pay for meals and drink. 
  Even the luckiest of adventurers will from time to 
  time see the real need for a day job.
   
  Work, and income, underlie everything in a soci-
  ety. No, that food on the table didn’t just arrive by 
  magic. (If it had, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.)
  WORK FOR ALL
  Daily existence in the Realms involves hard work 
  for almost everyone. In rural areas, this work 
  tends to be primarily a matter of survival, such 
  as getting food, water, and fuel enough to last 
  through the next winter. The reward for such 
  work is the food, water, and fuel thus gathered. 
  In urban areas, on the other hand, work is not di-
  rectly related to survival, and it usually takes the 
  form of effort compensated by income. 
  Suzail’s Labor Force
  A look at Suzail in Cormyr serves to illustrate 
  what sorts of jobs are considered “paid living” in 
  a typical capital city in the Realms.
   
  Lots of poor citizens dwell near the docks 
  at Suzail’s western end. Many of them work as 
  dockhands (casual day laborers, loading and un-
  loading cargo) or repairers and makers of simple 
  household wares (pottery, cutlery, tools, stools, 
  benches, and the like). Others make a living 
  through illicit trade (forgery, drugs, or smuggled 
  goods). Such urban poor, known as hardhands, 
  lowlives, or graspers, make up about twenty per-
  cent of citizens.
   
  A step up in income and respectability are the 
  commoners. This group includes the maids and 
  independent house servants who work in mid-
  dle- and upper-class homes cleaning, cooking, 
  fetching things, and generally acting decorative. 
  It also includes most shop assistants, who restock 
  goods, fetch and carry, and sweep up. They might 
  or might not be well fed or well treated, but they 
  are underpaid and do not enjoy stable employ-
  ment. These laborers make up about forty-five 
  percent of citizens.
   
  Above commoners are journeymen, trusties, 
  and fairhands (skilled casual laborers). These are 
  the governesses, really superb cooks, mercenaries, 
  bodyguards, excellent seamstresses, skilled smiths 
  recently arrived from other lands, and so on. 
  They are highly sought after, and so command 
  good wages and stable employment. They make 
  up about eight percent of Suzail’s inhabitants, and 
  are middle class.
   
  The next social rank up is the middle class 
  proper, sometimes referred to as “burghers” 
  but usually just “citizens,” meaning the speaker 
  thinks of these folks as the residents who matter. 
  These are the shopkeepers, landlords, investors, 
  crafters, and shippers. Guild members are in 
  this group. Thanks to Suzail’s size and wealth, it 
  makes up about twenty-five percent of the city’s 
  inhabitants.
   
  This leaves roughly two percent of folk who 
  form the upper class: courtiers, the wealthiest 
  merchants (who often aspire to nobility), and no-
  bility (“highborn” in polite terms, or “highnoses” 
  less politely).
   
  In a city that’s not a capital, all three of these 
  upper-class elements are less numerous, and 
  crafters might outnumber shopkeepers.
  DAY JOBS FOR 
  ADVENTURERS
  To some extent, the DUNGEONS & DRAGONS game 
  has always been an escape from daily life. A 
  chance to be more glamorous, beautiful, skilled, 
  important, dashing, and truly heroic than we are 
  in reality.
   
  Yet that doesn’t mean D&D should be fast-
  action clowning in which any behavior is allowed 
  and there’s no risk or opposition. The world must 
  be a challenge, and the deeds of the characters 
  should have the power to really change their 
  world, to foster hope and improve lives and do 
  things of lasting importance.
   
  Which all sounds very grand—but how? If 
  being an adventurer is simply a matter of chop-
  ping apart a dark-hearted tyrant on a throne, or 
  slaying a fearsome dragon, what happens after 
  you do that?
   
  Oddly, it comes back to daily, real-world 
  conditions (such as needing to work to have 
  enough money for food and a place to live) and 
  
  Chapter 4
  104
  competencies (such as acting decisively, mak-
  ing good decisions, building friendships, and 
  networking).
   
  Let’s have a look at day jobs for adventurers in 
  the Realms, starting with the obvious ones.
   
  Many adventurers have the skills to read-
  ily land more mundane, less dangerous work as 
  bodyguards, caravan guards, “drawn-dagger 
  agents” (the polite term for a spy, hired killer, or 
  outside-the-law facilitator, usually for a wealthy 
  patron or a guild), or envoys (when such a post in-
  volves perilous journeys or negotiations in which 
  intimidation is likely). Guard duty (of a person, 
  property, or place) is common “winterbound” 
  work for adventurers.
   
  Yet some wayfarers seeking work are more cre-
  ative, and not always in ways that involve breaking 
  the law. In general, if a job is dangerous, unpleas-
  ant, or exacting—and the hirer wants discretion, 
  absolute secrecy, or loyalty—the rewards are high.
   
  Grave digging, for instance, is poorly paid and 
  unglamorous in some places, but very well paid in 
  others. Working in the sewers in Waterdeep (be-
  cause it’s guilded work, and highly dangerous to 
  boot) is well paid, but unpleasant. Stonemasonry 
  concerned with fortifications (castle and wall re-
  pairs; shoring up vaulted cellars; and mining to 
  enlarge cellars, tunnels, and privy chutes) is gen-
  erally underappreciated, but is always well paid.
   
  Every city has to decide how to dispose of ex-
  crement, and sewers seldom work well unless 
  they’re flushed by streams and not subject to tidal 
  flooding (a problem in most ports). Because of 
  this, many places—such as Suzail, in the king-
  dom of Cormyr, and Athkatla, in the kingdom of 
  Amn—have “night-soil” or dung wagons that col-
  lect chamber-pot refuse from the populace (1 cp 
  per pot) and cart these collections out of town to 
  be dumped on fields where they are mixed with 
  straw and left to rot down into compost. More 
  than a few dung carters have smuggled items—
  and even people—out of cities under the noisome 
  heaps in their wagons, for payment of a lot more 
  than a wagonload normally earns them. 
   
  Animal training (and monster capturing, 
  which is almost always adventurers’ work) tends 
  to be low in status but well compensated. So, 
  for that matter, is finding and bringing back 
  rare plants or unhatched eggs for herbalists and 
  alchemists.
   
  Painting and plastering palaces and nobles’ 
  mansions, styling hair, and sewing and custom 
  fitting fine garments for nobility are also generally 
  unglamorous but well-paid lines of work. In some 
  communities, smiths, plumbers, and slaughterers 
  (butchers) are paid well for their work. So are bed 
  nurses for royalty and nobility, particularly those 
  who bathe, tend, and guard the mad or the long-
  term afflicted . . . and royal or noble tasters, who 
  sample the food and drink of important persons 
  to take the fall for them in cases of bad cooking or 
  murderous malice.
   
  A lesser-known line of work that pays well is 
  writing love letters, job applications, and deli-
  cate apologies on behalf of noble, royal, or merely 
  wealthy patrons. In short, a scribe who poses as 
  another person, writing for that person and keep-
  ing both the writing task and the contents of what 
  was written utterly secret. A variant on this kind 
  of work (believed to be the source of one court 
  lady’s fortune, some centuries ago in Cormyr) is 
  writing “lust tales” or “heartwarms” (flowery ro-
  mance) intended for the eyes of one royal patron 
  only (and sometimes written to order, using real 
  individuals as characters). A few bards secretly 
  hire others to write their jokes, and conversely 
  more than a few royalty and nobility employ bards 
  to write ballads and witty poems they can claim 
  as their own.
  Rooftop Climbing
  Suzail is typical of busy cities across the Heart-
  lands and the Sword Coast, and so can serve as 
  an example of these risky professions. Even where 
  guilds exist to perform roofing or chimney re-
  pairs, falls and injuries are frequent occurrences, 
  so hiring casual “hands” to fill out a crew is like-
  wise frequent.
   
  Fog is more rare in Suzail than in many other 
  port cities because of the prevailing breezes. 
  Strong winds are rare, except during out-and-
  out lashing storms, though they do occur. Rain is 
  frequent, though it tends toward brief, vigorous 
  downpours followed by clear skies, not “gray day 
  after gray day” weather. In winter, wet snowfalls 
  are common.
   
  Most of the buildings in central Suzail (exclud-
  ing the dock warehouses, the military bases, the 
  westernmost hovels, and the mansions north of 
  the Promenade) are stone or brick structures (or 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  105
  to simply hitting the ground), but usually ends 
  in severe injury for the jumper—and, of course, 
  damages the wagon and its contents as well.
   
  The traditional method of descent used by 
  thieves in Suzail uses long coils of oiled cord. One 
  end of a coil goes around a chimney (chimneys 
  are abundant) or a roof-peak decoration, and the 
  other wraps around the thief’s body so that he or 
  she can use a “body belay” to unwind the coil as 
  slowly as possible to lessen the rate of fall. Even 
  if the cord ends up breaking under the thief’s 
  weight, the resultant fall is from a lower eleva-
  tion than the roof. If the cord suspends the thief 
  all the way down, so much the better; or the thief 
  touches down, cuts the cord, and vanishes into 
  the night with the remainder of the coil (so it can 
  be used for the next descent).
  Burials
  Grave digging is backbreaking, often unpleasant, 
  widely feared work. (Temple influence keeps this 
  from being guild-exclusive work, in most places.)
   
  The written or publicly expressed desires of 
  the dead are considered paramount, so a few ec-
  centrics have been buried in their own cellars or 
  in various odd places, in accordance with their 
  stated-before-death requests. Devout persons 
  with coin enough and a life of good character 
  (whose families don’t express wishes to the con-
  trary or refuse to pay) are interred by temples. 
  In this case, the ceremony, preparation, and in-
  terment is all done by priests, who prepare the 
  body in such a way as to prevent undeath (or at 
  least make rising into undeath unlikely). Such 
  interments are in crypts in the temple proper if a 
  sufficient donation is made, in a common temple 
  crypt for a lesser donation (or for deceased priests 
  and temple workers), and in a plot on consecrated 
  temple grounds for the less wealthy.
   
  Faiths not well represented by local clerics fre-
  quently establish their own burial sites. These are 
  often small, boulder-walled rectangles of ground 
  with lots of mature trees to provide shade.
   
  Unknown decedents, the homeless, and out-
  laws tend to get buried in waste ground that is 
  fairly close to a settlement but well away from 
  streams and marshes. Those who were diseased 
  or poisoned or tainted by necromancy are burned 
  in an outdoor pyre, and their ashes are interred in 
  a regular grave.
  older stone patched with newer brick) that rise 
  three to four floors above the street and have 
  steeply pitched roofs to shed snow and rain. Bal-
  conies are found on upper floors, outside the 
  reach of thieves’ ladders, spires are relatively rare, 
  and there’s a recent fashion for installing glass 
  skylights (three panes thick, for strength). Most 
  buildings have tile or slate roofs (wooden shingles 
  are still found, but they rot swiftly, tend to leak, 
  and offer rooftop clamberers very spongy foot-
  ing), a decorative repeating ironwork pattern 
  along the roof’s peak that can be used to anchor 
  safety ropes while doing roof repairs, and cor-
  ner downspouts. A climber should not depend 
  on these downspouts to support much weight 
  as climbing ladders, nor should one swing from 
  them (which risks crashing down with the spout 
  tearing away and coming down alongside). In a 
  storm, beware: Lightning rods are increasingly 
  popular, and are found at both ends of a peaked 
  roof—connected directly to the downspouts.
   
  Dormers are common architectural features, 
  as are rooftop window box gardens for herbs and 
  “pipeleaf” attached to them. Dormers with the 
  windows open are used for hot-weather sleeping, 
  rather than lying out on the open roof (because 
  level areas on roofs are too rare and too small for 
  this practice to be safe or popular). Trapdoors 
  are found on almost all roofs, but are sealed 
  from below with gum or pitch to prevent leak-
  ing, and barred shut. Rooftop clamberers should 
  not expect to easily—and never stealthily—force 
  entrance into the building below by means of a 
  trapdoor. Laundry does often get strung from bal-
  conies or high windowsill spars to similar features 
  on adjacent buildings, but is rarely hung above 
  roofs (except in the aforementioned westernmost 
  hovels), and very few roofs are well lit at night.
   
  A daring and agile being can use a long se-
  quence of rooftops as a highway of sorts; the small 
  gaps between buildings allow for such travel in 
  many routes throughout the city. Climbing down 
  from a building when you run out of roof can be 
  deadly difficult in wet weather. In hot weather, 
  open shutters and the like often lessen the severity 
  of a fall or a jump from a rooftop by breaking the 
  descent into stages, allowing someone to slow his 
  or her fall by making “snatch-grabs” (snatching 
  at things on the way past, then letting go before 
  dislocating an arm). Leaping down into a wagon is 
  all too popular a practice (thought to be preferable 
  
  Chapter 4
  106
  Outlaws and Bounty Hunters
  Some hired adventuring bands go rogue and de-
  cide to keep the lands and properties they seize 
  for their own. Once this activity is discovered, the 
  perpetrators are denounced to local rulers, who 
  usually declare such bands outlaw (unless they are 
  bands who are covertly working for those same 
  rulers) and send other adventuring bands out to 
  deal with them.
   
  In 1400 DR, a shift in public attitude toward 
  bounty hunters began. In that year, the Masked 
  Lords of Waterdeep issued a decree known as the 
  Tarnsmoke Proclamation (after the wronged mer-
  chant Lorigo Tarnsmoke, but publicly referred to 
  as “hardhand justice”), by which it became legal 
  in Waterdeep and its patrolled environs to hire 
  bounty hunters (usually adventurers, but some-
  times out-of-work caravan guards or sellswords) 
  to go after outlaws whom you see as having 
  wronged you. These bounty hunters attempt to 
  get your property back or at least eliminate the 
  outlaws and so “repay the debt in blood before 
  the gods.” This practice became very popular 
  over the next decade, and is now legal in most 
  places along the Sword Coast, though many faiths 
  still frown on it.
  Blood for Coin: Mercenaries
  True loyalty takes time to build, and loyal soldiers 
  vary widely in fighting capabilities, so truly dedi-
  cated fighters in the corps are always too few for a 
  leader’s liking.
   
  Building a professional standing army takes 
  time, both for combat training to be honed to an 
  edge and for mental discipline to become iron-
  clad tradition. It also takes the right environment, 
  usually an ordered, law-abiding land, such as 
  Cormyr, and a lot of coins. Monetary costs must 
  be borne even in peacetime, which is one reason 
  why some rulers get so aggressive about border 
  patrols and expansion, reasoning that “If I’m pay-
  ing for these sword swingers, I’m going to use 
  them!” and “If they sit idle, someone may use 
  them against me, or some might get dangerous 
  ideas about their own capabilities—so let’s keep 
  them busy, by the gods! Besides, their aggressive 
  vigilance will keep any citizens from daring to op-
  pose me in anything.”
   
  For everyone else in the Realms, who are prob-
  ably poorer and who don’t need an army all the 
  time but might pressingly need one right now, 
  mercenaries are the answer. Leaders use their 
  best, most loyal fighters as personal bodyguards 
  and generals, and turn to hireswords for the 
  bulk of their fighting force. (Hireswords are also 
  known as sellswords, though this term is more for 
  individuals and impromptu bands, whereas hire-
  swords are well organized—with ranks, insignias, 
  or even uniforms—chartered companies.) 
   
  Mercenaries are particularly suited to raiding, 
  pillaging, and wild charging attacks, activi-
  ties they enjoy and ones in which breakdowns 
  in discipline won’t matter as much as, say, when 
  withstanding a siege or holding a vital pass.
   
  A reputation for unreliability inevitably clings 
  to mercenaries, because saving their own skins 
  usually trumps dying for a cause. It’s not their 
  own homes and families they’re fighting for—
  although their self-respect, their prospects for 
  continued employment, and their standing with 
  Tempus all demand they fight well.
   
  Those same societal pressures make mercenar-
  ies trustworthy in limited ways. Most patrons who 
  hire them don’t have to worry about said hirelings 
  double-crossing them in the midst of a battle, be-
  cause hired blades “bloodsworn” to one side in 
  a conflict dare not switch sides. Even if they are 
  captured or offered more money, they must sit out 
  as neutral, usually withdrawing from the battle-
  field to keep from having to fight on the wrong 
  side in self-defense, and departing the region of 
  the conflict to avoid being imprisoned by whoever 
  captured them. When proper prisons or soldiers 
  enough to garrison them are lacking, captured 
  hireswords are often put on a boat to “a far, fair 
  port” to keep them at sea for a month or more.
   
  Mercenaries also dare not switch sides because 
  heralds and priests of Tempus would proclaim 
  their deeds to everyone, so no one would hire 
  them thereafter. Even if such turncoats change 
  their names, trudge halfway across the Realms, 
  assemble into different groups, and start over, 
  they might still be recognized and scorned. Those 
  who are not shunned outright can most often find 
  work only as “dullblades.”
   
  Dullblades are inexperienced, untested, or un-
  trustworthy muscle sent on the most dangerous 
  assignments and deemed expendable. They are 
  paid the bottom rate: 1 cp a day plus two daily 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  107
  meals, a bed blanket, and wound-dressing—a 
  wash and bandages—if needed. If adventurers are 
  not known to be capable and accomplished com-
  batants, they are hired on as dullblades.
   
  At the other end of the salary scale, employers 
  can expect to pay as much as 25 gp per day per 
  soldier for skilled individuals, such as nightblades 
  (commandos) and sappers, who can build bridges 
  and plant bombs covertly and while under heavy 
  attack.
   
  Standard mercenary rates are 1 gp per day plus 
  three meals with drink, provision of a tent and a 
  new pair of boots, and a bonus (usually 5 gp) for 
  every major battle won, such as the seizure of a 
  city.
   
  The commander of a mercenary force is paid 
  a large negotiated amount for expenses upon 
  hiring, a 1,000 gp bonus for the achievement of 
  agreed-upon objectives, and a large negotiated 
  fulfillment fee when the ultimate objective is 
  achieved. Such payments are made to surviving 
  soldiers and never to the kin of the fallen (except 
  by fellow comrades-in-arms, out of personal 
  sentiment).
   
  Very few employers of mercenaries dare to try 
  to get out of paying them by having them slain 
  (either by attacking them with other friendly 
  forces or by sending them to or leaving them in 
  an impossible battlefield situation). Heralds and 
  priests of Tempus witness the signing of such 
  agreements, retain copies, and will proclaim 
  against those who betray such agreements on the 
  altars of the Wargod and publicly, meaning no 
  one would work with them and Tempus would 
  frown on their battle fortune.
   
  From Chessenta eastward and southward, and 
  east and south of Raurin, the situation is slightly 
  different. Mercenaries, like royalty and nobility 
  everywhere in the Realms, have a ransom price 
  that their families or treasuries pay if they are 
  captured. So if you capture a king, a lord, or the 
  head of a mercenary company, you can slay, exile, 
  maim, or enslave that person if you can square 
  such treatment with local laws and with the gods, 
  or imprison him or her—or you can demand a 
  WAYNE ENGLAND
  This doughty quartet of mercenaries has seen its share of action but is always looking for more—because, of course, the pay’s the thing. 
  
  Chapter 4
  108
  ransom, and when you receive it, return your 
  quarry safely home. The gods and the heralds 
  frown on those who collect a ransom and then de-
  liver a mistreated, near-death captive, or free the 
  victim far from home in dangerous territory so 
  that he or she could well be recaptured and ran-
  somed again.
   
  An old Faerûnian saying runs, “Spring is for 
  planting and getting stuck in mud, summer is for 
  loving and fighting, fall is for harvesting and get-
  ting stuck in mud, and winter is for shivering, 
  cursing, and starving.” Mercenaries in winter, 
  “not fighting season,” without a local war to 
  wage, as well as disgraced and untried swords for 
  hire, are often employed by merchants as body-
  guards, cargo loaders and unloaders, and guards 
  for warehouses, shops, cargo, and wagons. Such 
  jobs are negotiated on an individual basis, but 
  merchants typically don’t offer much below the 
  common minimum of 3 sp per day. In addition, 
  pay usually includes “one light and one square,” 
  meaning two meals, the evening meal being the 
  large or “square” one; “decent shelter,” implying 
  some privacy, a bed, and warmth; and vacation, 
  which is almost always a tenday on, then two days 
  off on a repeating cycle.
   
  From the 1350s DR onward, the hitherto ever-
  larger mercenary companies (such as the famous 
  Flaming Fist) began to dwindle and disappear. 
  By the mid-1360s DR, most standing companies 
  consisted of a charismatic leader plus a staff of 
  four to six trusted battlefield officers, command-
  ing forty mounted and fully armored fighters, 
  with a handful of veteran trainers (often sorely 
  wounded oldsters) training a reinforcements force 
  of twenty-odd copper-a-day hopefuls.
   
  A few of these smaller companies are detailed 
  below. Most such groups formed in the 1350s 
  DR, then found their reputations rising a decade 
  later because they were left standing when other 
  forces had disbanded.
   
  The Bold Blades of Berdusk: Commanded 
  by “the Sorceress with a Sword” Dauntarra Hel-
  gorhand, based in Berdusk and widely believed to 
  be riddled with Harpers.
   
  Sammarth’s Swords: Led by the much-
  scarred warrior “Mad” Madreth Dorl, based in 
  Scornubel and considered vicious.
   
  The Ready Gauntlet: Commanded by the 
  self-styled “Lord” Argreth Harhawk, an effete 
  half-elf highly skilled with a sword; based in 
  Saradush and considered the ultimate profession-
  als at playing politics.
  The Retired Adventurer
  Few adventurers survive long enough to suc-
  cumb to the infirmities of old age. Others 
  choose not to, instead striding lightly clad into 
  a blizzard or provoking an armed brawl they 
  have no hope of winning. Many who do survive 
  are disabled in ways that limit the professions 
  they can undertake—ruling out, say, becom-
  ing weapon trainers or guides for younger 
  adventurers.
   
  Many ex-adventurers find somewhere warm 
  enough to sleep under the stars the year through, 
  and take to frequenting taverns and selling em-
  broidered tales of the heroics of their younger 
  days, directions, and maps (however fanciful) to 
  younger adventurers.
   
  A few retain enough skill to become expert 
  weapon sharpeners, or “eyes and ears” spies for 
  rulers or other organizations. Some become de-
  spairing, or uncaring, enough to hire themselves 
  out to be experimented upon by alchemists, nec-
  romancers, wizards, and makers of scents.
   
  Then there are the truly desperate, those 
  who’ll try anything for a chance at having their 
  youthful vigor restored, or a new life in a new 
  body (perhaps that of a monster, or an automa-
  ton, or even the sentience of an enchanted sword). 
  “Everybody knows” that some sorely wounded 
  and pain-wracked elderly have—by the grace of 
  the gods or through fell magic—gained new lives. 
  The mightiest priests of Tempus transfer the 
  minds of great heroes into swords, and into suits 
  of armor worn by temple guards, so such steel can 
  reason and speak advice. A handful of the walking 
  suits of armor popularly known as helmed hor-
  rors, animated in secret by very powerful clerics 
  and wizards, house the most valiant warriors their 
  creators could find.
   
  Ostur “Oldbuckles” Olbrawvyn of Scornubel 
  was a legless man dragging himself along on a 
  cart with crutches one morn—and by that very 
  night had become the brains of a wizard’s mighty 
  dragon steed, transformed and melded into the 
  body of a crazed, nigh-mindless wyrm hatchling. 
  Varendur Zhal of Tashluta gambled his lands, 
  horses, belongings, and left arm away in games 
  of chance with the senile Brothers Torlaene of 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  109
  his city, but in the end won a potion that made 
  him young and strong and restored his arm, so he 
  could live life anew. So it can happen!
   
  Less dramatic but more successful is the sort 
  of retirement managed by the veteran mercenary 
  Harondus Sardgard. He wanted a little ease, and 
  a far lower public profile than the infamous Mirt 
  the Moneylender or the famous Durnan of the 
  Yawning Portal. So he kept up his contacts in the 
  sword-swinging business for protection, sank his 
  coin into rental properties all over Waterdeep, and 
  lived in one of his own buildings, on all the rents 
  coming in. There are scores more like him—and 
  they are the greatest source of treasure tales, bat-
  tle wisdom, and distant contacts in Faerûn.
  GUILDS
  The official trade organizations collectively 
  known as guilds are by nature specific to a trade 
  or a group of (usually closely related) trades, and 
  are almost always found in cities. Over time, 
  many of them tend to sit in unofficial opposition 
  to the local rulers and nobility.
   
  Shelves of books could be written detailing the 
  deeds, internal intrigues, and unfolding histories 
  of the guilds of Faerûn. The guilds of the city of 
  Waterdeep are infamous across the Realms for 
  their abundance, their ongoing squabbles, and 
  their investments and sideline dealings outside 
  the City of Splendors. Over the centuries, guilds 
  have had a lot of influence over trade customs, 
  other guilds, local laws and regulations, and the 
  way things are done all over the Heartlands.
   
  Most guilds have heraldry, badges, and col-
  ored wax seals of inspection they stamp on goods. 
  These change with bewildering rapidity, often to 
  denote dating and therefore old goods, or to try 
  to foil fraudsters who have gained or duplicated a 
  seal stamp.
   
  Suzail, the capital of Cormyr, is home to a 
  smaller number of guilds than Waterdeep and in 
  that respect is more typical of cities across the 
  Realms. These guilds should prove a good model 
  that can be modified for other cities.
   
  Guilds in Cormyr have far less power and 
  wealth than in Waterdeep, and are far friendlier to 
  authorities. They operate only in Suzail and the 
  lands immediately around the city (on the south-
  ern or Suzail side of the Starwater River, plus 
  Hilp but minus Marsember). Thanks to the re-
  bellious histories of Arabel and Marsember, most 
  guilds have trade agents and observers in both of 
  those cities, but no real power or organization. 
  This is reinforced by the traditional resistance 
  of nobles to anyone, even the Crown, meddling 
  unnecessarily in life, customs, and matters befall-
  ing on “their” lands—which covers much of the 
  countryside.
   
  Guilds in Cormyr perform the following func-
  tions, for the benefit of themselves and their 
  members.
   
  1. They publicize rosters of their members in 
  good standing, intimating that all do work of the 
  best standard, and agreeing that members shall 
  not hesitate to repair or maintain any item that is 
  the work of another member. This means a guild 
  member will never tell a would-be customer: 
  “Pooh! I can’t fix that! Utter trash; hurl it away 
  and buy one of mine!” Most guilds secretly try 
  to fix prices by agreeing on a going rate for cer-
  tain goods or services that members aren’t bound 
  to, but which they will refer to when negotiating 
  with clients. They do not have the legal right to 
  set prices or even standards. They do have almost 
  complete control over who qualifies for member-
  ship, dues, and the local conduct of the trades 
  they represent.
   
  2. They agree on approved glues, finishes, and 
  other materials. Sometimes, guilds also approve 
  of suppliers for their materials, as well as—when 
  members desire—procuring supplies in bulk to 
  get discounted prices for members. Nonmembers 
  who buy raw supplies from guild members are 
  charged a markup over standard street prices.
   
  3. They provide warehousing or materials stor-
  age facilities for members. Most guild charters 
  provide for immediate emergency storage for 
  members who have been burned out of their own 
  facilities or otherwise prevented from using them. 
  In addition, most guilds secretly provide one or 
  more hidden locations not officially owned by or 
  linked to the guild for members to temporarily 
  stash goods, themselves, or apprentices who are 
  wanted by the law or who are being hunted by 
  personal foes.
   
  4. They maintain, with the agreement of the 
  royal court, precise and public definitions of ob-
  jects, sizes, and amounts used by guild members 
  in their trade. This ensures that one member’s 
  “firkin” or “ell” is the same as another’s.
  
  Chapter 4
  110
   
  5. They support indigent retired guild mem-
  bers, usually by a monthly measure of grain, ale, 
  and meat or fish, or a few coins in lieu of such 
  supplies. For instance, 12 gp is the monthly mu-
  nificence wage paid by the Guild of Coachlars, 
  Carriers, Waymen, and Locksters, but the Sea-
  farers Guild doles out only 8 gp. Some guilds 
  maintain an “old bones lodge” for retired guild 
  members, which sometimes take in nonmembers 
  for stiff fees to support the care of the retired 
  guild members, who are charged little or nothing.
   
  6. They offer money changing and money-
  lending services to members in need at set rates 
  (always lower than market) agreed upon at guild 
  meetings. Most guilds also provide secure money 
  storage for members, who often prefer such si-
  lent storage to banking their coins with the royal 
  court, enabling tax collectors to take note of the 
  amounts of funds specific individuals handle.
   
  7. They provide guild members as observers 
  when caravans arrive for fairs at Jester’s Green, 
  elsewhere around Hilp, or south of the Starwater, 
  as well as when ships unload at the docks in Su-
  zail. In fact, they insist on guild members being 
  present in order to see what cargoes are arriving, 
  in which containers, where they are intended to 
  be sold, and to whom. This supervision allows the 
  guilds to see if everything adheres to regulations 
  as well as gives them a day or so of warning on 
  price fluctuations.
   
  Guilds in Cormyr also unofficially perform a 
  lot of other functions, from investing members’ 
  profits to engaging in (or hiring others to per-
  form) arson, vandalism, or theft against rivals. 
  All guilds lobby against competing outlander 
  peddlers and ship captains who don’t adhere to 
  court-approved guild measures. Additionally, 
  guilds quite openly gather information about who 
  is trading in what sort of goods, and they argue 
  before the royal court as to which guild should 
  have a say over a newly introduced product or ser-
  vice. For example, the Tanners and Leatherers 
  Guild and the Guild of Coachlars, Carriers, Way-
  men, and Locksters might argue over who has 
  purview over clip-in harnesses made for attaching 
  additional draft animals to a coach or a wagon.
   
  Almost every guild charges membership 
  fees—and its apprentices or would-be members 
  even higher fees. The royal court must be kept 
  fully informed of fee changes and of member-
  ship requirements, and court officers aggressively 
  investigate all complaints regarding apprentices or 
  probationary members facing unusual difficulties 
  in acquiring full membership. The Crown prohib-
  its any non-Cormyreans and any Cormyreans of 
  noble or royal blood from being guildmasters. In 
  addition, most guilds withhold membership from 
  persons who don’t own land in Cormyr. Crown 
  law prevents race or gender from having any part 
  in guild membership rules.
   
  Almost every guild tries to control the profes-
  sional behavior of its members in some way, either 
  through formal rules or through informal secret 
  edicts and temporary boycotts. For example, “No 
  member of the Vintners and Falconers Guild is 
  to trade with any member of the Brewers and 
  Cheesemakers Guild until further notice from the 
  Grand Hooded Vintner” (the guildmaster).
   
  To form a guild, its proponents must first suc-
  cessfully petition the Crown. A royal charter is 
  granted that sets forth membership requirements, 
  a founding roster of members, a rota of officers, 
  and the guild rules. It also includes the grant of 
  a badge or a device (a physical object, such as the 
  miniature helms mounted on scepters and shop 
  signs by members of the Armorers) for guild use. 
  This is not a heraldic grant of arms, though the 
  Heralds keep records of these badges as well. 
  Heralds can, of course, separately grant arms to 
  guilds who desire and pay for a grant. All guilds 
  are required to keep up-to-date rolls at court and 
  in their headquarters, recording all changes in 
  membership, rules, and fees. In this case “up-to-
  date” means “must reflect all changes fully and 
  accurately within a tenday, or face stiff fines and a 
  mark of censure.”
   
  Two marks of censure against any guild means 
  an automatic War Wizard investigation of all 
  guild activities, taxes, and finances. Six marks 
  means the guild charter is forfeit. Marks are of-
  ficially rescinded after an investigation is passed, 
  but are never automatically removed after passage 
  of time.
  Illegal Guilds
  Every civilized realm has so-called or self-styled 
  guilds everyone knows about that are actually ille-
  gal organizations regulated only by themselves.
   
  In the case of Cormyr, these outlaw guilds in-
  clude the infamous Fire Knives and an endless 
  succession of small, local thieves’ guilds that are 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  111
  inevitably crushed by the War Wizards and the 
  Highknights but often re-founded. Such illicit or-
  ganizations have traditionally held little power in 
  Cormyr, except in Marsember and in small but 
  frequent Dragon Coast smuggling operations. In 
  fact, at any one time, Marsember usually has a 
  Guild of Marsember rebel organization and three 
  or four small Guilds of Goodsrunners that adopt 
  various fanciful names and try to import goods 
  from Sembia, Westgate, or the Vilhon Reach 
  without paying taxes or enduring government 
  inspections. The Crown usually infiltrates and 
  shatters these false guilds, sometimes hiring ad-
  venturers to assist when fighting is expected.
  Craft Guilds
  Apart from the grand, official high guilds of Cor-
  myr, small, local craft guilds are found in every 
  town and city in Cormyr. Some villages have 
  fledgling, disorganized craft guilds, and those in 
  cities are often little more than powerless com-
  plaining societies.
   
  A craft guild is a collective of all the various 
  crafters and shopkeepers in a particular place (as 
  opposed to just those engaged in a specific profes-
  sion), who band together to try to buy materials 
  in bulk for the sake of lower prices and shipping 
  costs. The guild also tries to argue taxes down to 
  a minimum and seeks to establish common work-
  ing conditions for its members. The goal of a craft 
  guild is to eliminate what the weaver Lurdruth 
  Thaloane of Waymoot recently called “unfair ad-
  vantages gained by merchants who work family 
  members, children they’ve taken in, and debtors 
  they have holds over to death in near slavery!”
   
  Craft guilds tend to have high-sounding names 
  such as the Benevolent Muster of Merchants of 
  Eveningstar, and the Loyal Council of Coinfel-
  lows of Espar.
   
  The chief benefits of both the craft guilds and 
  the high guilds are social. Members can swiftly 
  spread word among fellow members of prices, 
  practices, swindles, and other news. This quick 
  communication aids in cutting down on impos-
  tures, false rumors of shortages designed to drive 
  up prices of materials, and confidence tricks. In 
  addition, guild members more easily hear which 
  journeymen are seeking new employment and 
  which masters are seeking new hires, as well 
  as which apprentices have acquired real skills. 
  Information of this last sort opens up alternative 
  employment opportunities for skilled apprentices, 
  should their current masters prove unscrupulous 
  enough to avoid granting them recognition. In 
  turn, novices can learn who is best at this or that 
  specialty of guildcraft (the best knife polisher, the 
  best toolmaker, the crafter whose work is most 
  fashionable among lavishly spending nobles, and 
  so on).
  High Guilds
  These true Cormyrean craft fraternities—that 
  is, organizations of workers largely engaged in 
  the same specific profession—have been some-
  what curbed in powers, hauteur, and fripperies 
  since their excesses during the time of the Tu-
  igan Horde. These excesses included uniforms, 
  secret handshakes, arcane festivals and rituals, 
  passing internal laws, advising their members on 
  which Crown laws to obey and which to flout, and 
  closely allying with certain noble families who had 
  their own treasonous agendas for financial gain.
   
  The hitherto-flourishing Bricklayers Guild, 
  for instance, no longer exists because it became 
  a front for several noble families plotting to over-
  throw the Dragon Throne. Those nobles used the 
  guild to enrich themselves by smuggling stolen 
  goods and small valuables, evading taxes, and 
  hiding valuables inside hollow bricks.
   
  Cormyr’s guilds traditionally held little po-
  litical power, but were “feeling their brawn” (as 
  the Cormyrean expression has it) just before the 
  arrival of the Tuigan Horde, led by the aforemen-
  tioned Bricklayers, the Sculptors and Masons 
  Guild, and the Guild of Carpenters and Joiners. 
  The surviving two construction guilds are now 
  carefully law-abiding. However, flush with the 
  coin from those aspiring to live in ever-grander 
  residences and erect ever-fancier follies, they have 
  learned the value of their work, and they con-
  tinue to be locally politically active, pursuing and 
  guarding their own interests with passion and 
  manipulative skill.
   
  The Guilds of Cormyr currently recognized in 
  the Forest Kingdom are detailed below, presented 
  in roughly descending order of influence.
   
  Sculptors and Masons Guild: Controls 
  stonework, statuary, quarrying, plastering, mud-
  daub, and waterproofing. This guild knows 
  its true power more than any other. However, 
  
  Chapter 4
  112
  ERIC BELISLE
  it is also steadfastly loyal to the Obarskyrs for 
  their striving to maintain a fair and prosperous 
  Cormyr.
   
  Guild of Carpenters and Joiners: Controls 
  wood cutting, curing, staining, furniture making, 
  fitted carpentry, and joinery. This is a wealthy, 
  energetic, “into everything” (such as new styles 
  of coffers, chairs, and stools) guild. It’s also frac-
  tious; the guildmaster faces almost constant 
  challenges to his authority from what he calls 
  “pompous fat little trumpet-mouths” who think 
  they can do a better job of running the guild.
   
  Armorers Guild: Controls armor- and 
  weapon-making, plus the making of tempered 
  tools from sewing needles to tiny gears and cogs. 
  This guild is watched by the War Wizards to pre-
  vent any noble from equipping a private army 
  without the Crown’s knowledge. Members resent 
  this scrutiny even as they accept its necessity.
   
  Guild of Coachlars, Carriers, Waymen, 
  and Locksters: Controls wagon makers and 
  wagon owners, locksmiths, coachlars (coach 
  drovers), carters (those who operate local delivery 
  wagons), and draymen (deliverers and loaders of 
  ships at the docks, on wagons everywhere, and 
  in warehouses). “Locksters” is the Dragon Reach 
  term for owners and guardians of warehouses. 
  Rampant ambition within the Coachcowls, as 
  most of Cormyr calls this guild, was curbed by 
  the War Wizards and the Highknights in the wake 
  of the battles against the Tuigan Horde.
   
  Truebreeds Guild: Controls trade in horses, 
  oxen, sheep, cattle, guard dogs, and sheepdogs, 
  as well as the breeding, care, and sale of all kept 
  beasts. This guild is an often fractious group of 
  ranchers. Due to offers from Sembia, Westgate, 
  and certain Cormyrean nobles wanting exotic 
  guardians or pets, the guildmaster is privately 
  considering breaking the guild rule that Van-
  gerdahast forced on his now-dead predecessor 
  Belivaerus Daethul: Members of the Truebreeds 
  would never attempt to crossbreed species nor 
  make any use of magic enabling features of one 
  For centuries, kings and ruling lords with their armies and hired wizards shaped the Realms. Now the merchants want their turn—and 
  they will take it one purchased throne at a time, if need be. The High Guilds of Suzail won’t be left behind anymore.
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  113
  beast to be added to another. Or, more simply, 
  they’d never try to “make monsters.”
   
  Seafarers Guild: Includes sailors, captains, 
  fleet owners, navigators, mapmakers, ropers (the 
  local name for rope makers), sail makers, ship-
  wrights, and ship repairers. Interests in Sembia 
  and Westgate frequently try to bribe these guild 
  members to aid and abet smuggling and even 
  slave running. Under the guildmaster’s firm, dili-
  gent hand, this guild is courteous, abides by both 
  guild and Crown laws, and cultivates a trustwor-
  thy, stolid, reliable, “no changes, please” image.
   
  Vintners and Falconers Guild: Controls fal-
  conry, raptor breeding and trading, wine making, 
  vineyard owning and tending, wine blendings, 
  and sales. Many guild members are flamboyant 
  revelers and hedonists who consider a fun-loving 
  lifestyle the proper aim and achievement of a suc-
  cessful life. Because the falconers and the vintners 
  of Suzail aspired to serve the same noble clientele, 
  they were the first to join ranks and form a guild. 
  Their success led to the other “anvil-and-flower” 
  (the Realms term for “chalk-and-cheese”) com-
  bined disparate-trades guilds. 
   
  Brewers and Cheesemakers Guild: Made 
  up of brewers, spirits blenders and importers, and 
  cheesemakers. The guild’s headquarters, called 
  the Caskhouse, often hosts days-long drinking 
  revels for members (and one guest each).
   
  Roofers, Thatchers, and Glaziers Guild: 
  Made up of roofers, slate masons, shingle cutters, 
  thatchers and thatch cutters, glaziers, “sandglass” 
  makers, and glass stainers.
   
  Tanners and Leatherers Guild: Composed 
  of tanners, leather dyers, glovers, corvisers (boot- 
  and shoemakers), cobblers, harness makers, battle 
  leatherers (makers of leather armor and under 
  armor), trimmers (who sew leather trim to gar-
  ments), weatherdarrs (makers of leather caps, 
  hats, “deep-snows” leggings, and weather-cloaks), 
  and leatherwork repairers and alterers.
   
  Guild of Weavers and Coopers: Made up of 
  coopers, weavers, textile dyers, garment cutters, 
  embroiderers, clothiers, and drapers (sellers of 
  draperies and tapestries)
   
  Guild of Naturalists: Controls medicinal, 
  edible, lubricant, dye-source, and craft-worthy 
  uses for plant and animal matter, either as dis-
  tillates or as solids (and all who work with such 
  substances, and associated research and vending). 
  The current Naturalists Guild is more of a sages’ 
  debating society than anything else. 
  TRADE AND 
  MERCHANT PRINCES
  Over the 1200s, 1300s, and 1400s DR, the mer-
  chant class rose steadily in size, wealth, and 
  influence. This class includes the crafters, shop-
  keepers, traders, and shippers who produce food 
  and desired items and get them into the hands 
  of buyers. The influence of nobles and kings has 
  waned, except in such cases as they can back up 
  their authority with wealth. This situation has 
  led to some unusual alliances and “sellings-out.” 
  Wealthy merchants have been elevated to the no-
  bility and received lucrative court posts. And in 
  Waterdeep in the late 1400s DR, noble titles were 
  sold on the open market to settle the crushing 
  debts of old-blood nobles.
   
  Over the years, some mercantile terms (such 
  as “coster”) have broadened their meanings, 
  and others (such as “priakos”) have fallen out of 
  favor and almost disappeared. However, urban 
  merchants still fall into several broad categories, 
  to wit:
   
  First are the crafters, who make things; in 
  rural areas, crofters dominate this group.
   
  Second are shopkeepers, who sell you what 
  you need, often brought from afar and gathered 
  “handy” in their shops.
   
  Then come traders, who buy and sell, negotiat-
  ing prices and determining what shippers covey 
  around the Realms. Some say traders also ma-
  nipulate markets to create false shortages, so as to 
  raise prices.
   
  Finally there are the shippers, who are the sea 
  captains and caravan merchants.
   
  The lines between these categories have always 
  been blurry, thanks to peddlers and caravan mas-
  ters who sell as they travel, traders who are also 
  shippers (many of whom call themselves costers 
  if they want clients to know they do both), shop-
  keepers who are also crafters, and so on.
   
  If you find a sign beside a door that opens 
  onto a stair leading to upper-floor offices, and 
  that sign has the word “Trading” on it, you can 
  be confident you’ve found a trader. That trader 
  is someone who finds particular merchandise for 
  clients, or finds buyers for a client’s wares and 
  
  Chapter 4
  114
  arranges for a shipper to deliver them—whether 
  halfway across Faerûn or down the next street. 
  Some examples of these businesses are Faulkon’s 
  Trading in Beregost, Sorkilt’s Fine Trading in 
  Everlund, and Donnatur’s Trading in Port Llast.
   
  All four sorts of merchants might have ware-
  houses, depending on how large the business, 
  how large the things it sells, and how swiftly those 
  things get moved into the hands of buyers. For 
  instance, shipping is hardest and rarest in winter, 
  when some roads become impassable and most 
  ports in the Heartlands and more northerly areas 
  are iced in. So in winter, crafters work long hours 
  producing things for sale in the next season—or 
  to trade with someone nearby for firewood or 
  food to last them until spring. This season is also 
  when shippers are most idle, and many of them 
  hire on as help for crafters, or “turn crafter” 
  themselves, making items such as harps, crates, 
  barrels, furniture, weapons, or tools as a sideline.
   
  Slavery declined from the 1200s DR through 
  1400s DR everywhere except in Thay. As a result, 
  with the growth of the merchant class and the 
  ever-increasing demand for items and produc-
  tion of items, labor costs have risen. This state 
  of affairs led to cutthroat competition in some 
  places—as well as more piracy, smuggling, and 
  trade wars between rival merchant cabals. And 
  these trade wars are not price wars, but include 
  real violence. In other places, it led to protection-
  ism in the form of the rise of guilds and their 
  influence. Some places, such as Waterdeep, are 
  large enough to contain both strong guilds and 
  cutthroat daily trade dealings. An entire land, 
  Sembia, has risen from being a prosperous farm-
  ing breadbasket to a glittering, bustling land of 
  riches and mercantile pride. From the early 1300s 
  DR onward, Sembia was known impolitely across 
  Faerûn as “the land of fat rich merchants.”
   
  This prosperity and growth pushed farms out 
  of the land immediately around growing towns 
  and cities, which in turn made for ever deeper 
  carving into the wilderlands to create new farms. 
  Wild beasts are fewer, foraging is harder, and 
  forests cover less area than formerly. Druids are 
  losing power and influence, predatory monsters 
  come into contact with humans more often, 
  and as news travels ever faster, people all over 
  the Realms perceive dangers as becoming more 
  numerous.
   
  Hence the rise of two professions: factors and 
  adventurers.
   
  A factor is a trade agent employed as a sales-
  man, paymaster, and buyer for someone else. In 
  rural areas, a factor might be hired from afar, and 
  might be employed by many people. Factor is a 
  profession that didn’t exist before about 1270 DR, 
  except in the largest noble or royal households 
  or courts. It’s a high-stress, travel-intensive job 
  that ages and devours many who hold it—unless 
  they grow very fat and successful, or succumb to 
  a slayer’s knife or some other misadventure. The 
  most infamous factor is Sammereza Sulphontis 
  of Waterdeep, who spent most of his life travel-
  ing far from the city, making deals and working 
  intrigues to shore up rulers who were friendly to 
  his trading—and to tear down those who tried to 
  play tyrant at the expense of merchants, the un-
  hampered flow of trade, and the purses of their 
  citizens. The Realms is familiar with his type, if 
  not him personally, thanks to oily characters in 
  many plays, and to the factors who represent no-
  bility in markets everywhere.
   
  A few factors have risen to become kingpins—
  such as the infamous Mirt the Moneylender, who 
  came to employ dozens of factors of his own—but 
  most spend their careers wearing out their boots 
  and backsides in endless travels, competing with 
  ever more and ever younger rival factors.
   
  Adventurers are nowadays increasingly prized 
  or considered useful, where they were once widely 
  regarded as lawless nuisances little better than 
  outlaws—an attitude encouraged by rulers and 
  many temples, who disliked the competition to 
  their “lawful authority.” People have increasingly 
  more coin to hire adventurers—and at the same 
  time more need to hire adventurers to protect 
  their coin.
   
  Factors and up-and-coming merchants need 
  bodyguards—or at least want bodyguards to im-
  press others and to discourage snatch-and-grab 
  “toughs” (thieves). The rise of guilds and the ac-
  companying inevitable rules, regulations, edicts, 
  and competition have frustrated many who see 
  such things as barriers to getting revenge on those 
  who have bested them. Adventurers, those who 
  “step outside the law or proper behavior, where I 
  dare not,” are seen as the best way to settle scores 
  or recover stolen (or at least contested) items or 
  even people (kidnappings are rising, too).
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  115
  A few of the most often seen glyphs, of many used all over the Realms. Some lore notes: 1. “Symbaraé” is an elven mark, now more widely 
  understood. Drow use it to mean refuge or healing. 2. Beware drow marks with horizontal lines above them; such lines denote false marks, 
  placed to misdirect the uninitiated. 3. The “magic here” rune is Halruaan (ancient Netherese, actually; much used before the scattering 
  among Low Netherese, to warn each other away from wild magic or powerful magic placed among them by archwizards from above).
  
  Chapter 4
  116
   
  It was once fashionable among nobles to hire 
  adventurers to do their dirty work so they could 
  portray themselves as loyal to the throne and too 
  civilized to threaten social order and etiquette by 
  getting personally involved in disputes. (“Have 
  your champion meet my champion, and we’ll set-
  tle this with their swords and blood—as we watch, 
  over wine.”) Now, it’s fashionable among wealthy, 
  rising merchants to hire adventurers to show 
  that they’re practically nobility. And of course, 
  such patrons want to see their adventurers doing 
  dashing, adventurous deeds—both for entertain-
  ment, and to reassure those patrons that they’ve 
  hired capable, true adventurers. Some nobles and 
  wealthy merchants even hire bards to script pre-
  tend or “play” disputes, which the adventurers of 
  both sides (all sides, in some of the more confus-
  ing cases) act out roles in, complete with moonlit 
  raids, swordplay along balconies, thrilling chases, 
  and grand confrontations. It’s lucrative work—
  and a few adventurers even like it.
   
  In recent centuries, the unpredictability of 
  mercantile matters has meant busier and more 
  complex lives for most people, and ever more coin 
  in circulation, driving increasing greed, need, and 
  opportunities.
   
  As the merchants’ prayer puts it, “All thanks to 
  Waukeen that we live in such interesting times!”
  Wealthy Traders
  There are two sorts of merchant princes. The 
  first is very rare in the Realms—royal princes who 
  happen to be successful and busy merchants. One 
  such royal prince and successful merchant is the 
  self-styled Prince Erendor of Highspires, a new 
  and tiny kingdom in the eastern Border King-
  doms. Another is “Prince” Galarth Hevedryn, the 
  son of a bastard son of King Azoun IV of Cormyr, 
  who has lived all his life in Ormpur, comfortably 
  far from the Dragon Throne, as a wealthy trader 
  using his inherited-but-self-augmented riches to 
  live like royalty.
   
  The second sort—common-born merchants 
  who have amassed enough wealth to live like 
  princes, often acting imperiously and having more 
  real influence and reach than a real prince—has 
  become numerous indeed in the Realms.
   
  The exalted uppermost ranks of merchant 
  princes are the fabulously wealthy, whose worth 
  outstrips any need to engage in ruthless, energetic 
  daily trading, so they can—if they wish—fully in-
  dulge their every whim.
   
  The current Faerûnian term for a fabulously 
  wealthy person is “coin mountain,” and here are 
  five such coin mountains, all of whom are inde-
  pendent individuals, not rulers.
   
  Stort Melharhammer of Mirabar: This 
  shield dwarf, a former soldier, is a black-bearded, 
  honey-voiced, well-groomed trader who acts as a 
  moneylender, a money changer, and a go-between 
  for dwarves and visiting ship captains, smoothing 
  out negotiations. He often engineers false short-
  ages so as to increase gem prices for the dwarves, 
  and always takes a cut of any increase he orches-
  trates. Stort is completely amoral and doesn’t 
  drink, and his only forms of enjoyment are watch-
  ing elf maidens dance and listening to harp music. 
  He lives and breathes to scheme, manipulate, and 
  win the next deal. When he runs out of space in 
  his underground abode for his accumulated coins 
  and gems, he pays trusted young dwarves hand-
  somely to go and buy him some more property in 
  Neverwinter, Waterdeep, or Baldur’s Gate. As a 
  result, he’s now a landlord of more than a dozen 
  buildings in each city, though he’s never seen any 
  of them. If he didn’t spend money to influence 
  politics in Luskan and Ruathym so as to prevent 
  widespread warfare, he’d be even richer than 
  he is—unless, as he judges, said warfare would 
  have hurt trade through Mirabar, and thus cost 
  him more.
   
  Elmraeda Gondoalyn of Iyrynspire: Gon-
  doalyn is the quiet, elegant, shrewd, and aging 
  rich widow of three wealthy Chessentan mer-
  chants, all of whom she loved and none of whose 
  deaths she had anything to do with. Now gaunt 
  and frail, she protects her person with some pow-
  erful items of magic, mainly rings—though tales 
  vary as to which sorts, because she has a large col-
  lection. Gondoalyn dwells in Iyrynspire, a castle 
  in the Chessentan countryside built for her by her 
  first husband, the shipping merchant Yarlos Mel-
  rorn, with a devoted staff and a strong bodyguard 
  of “knights.” This bodyguard force is a sixty-
  some-strong private army of full-plate-armored 
  veteran fighters. She entertains herself by watch-
  ing others live their lives through her crystal ball 
  (a magic item that can detect others’ thoughts). 
  She lavishes money on her people but spends 
  little on herself. Her steward, Deln Maerintor, 
  is a powerful wizard who is devoted to her. Her 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  117
  wealth increases steadily through the rents from 
  properties in a dozen cities, and (through several 
  trading costers) the ownership of over forty trad-
  ing caravels. It’s rumored (correctly) that one of 
  the towers of her home is in truth the only pri-
  vately owned Halruaan skyship in Chessenta.
   
  Fuorn “Fallingstar” Avilanter of El-
  ventree: This moon elf sorcerer is a seller of 
  spells and enspelled gems of his own making, 
  who trades discreetly with rich Sembian buyers 
  through trusted adventurers of the Dales. A re-
  clusive master of disguises, Fuorn wears teleport 
  rings and makes himself impossible to find for 
  those who come seeking him. Fuorn spends all 
  his profits buying up city properties in Yhaunn 
  and Saerloon by way of agents and largely ficti-
  tious Sembian trading companies. He also owns a 
  few buildings in Suzail and in Teziir, and spends 
  his free time magically spying on certain humans 
  he has found by accident. He likes to watch their 
  intrigues, achievements, and pratfalls, enjoying 
  their lives vicariously as entertainment in much 
  the same way that Elmraeda Gondoalyn uses her 
  crystal ball.
   
  Burnyl Talongar of Phsant: Talongar is 
  known to most Theskans only as “the Lord of 
  Gems.” This unusually tall and thin, taciturn 
  gem cutter and appraiser secretly acts as a bank 
  and a sponsor for many merchants throughout 
  Thesk. His loans and deals are single-handedly 
  responsible for slowing the spread of the Shadow-
  masters’ influence in the region, but that group 
  tolerates him because certain senior priests of 
  Mask owe so much to him that the deity has per-
  sonally ordered the Shadowmasters to “keep him 
  untouched—by anyone.” Talongar is unaware 
  of this fact, and simply goes about his business, 
  which is to make fair deals with everyone and to 
  adhere to those deals strictly, dealing always with 
  politeness and honor. As a result, he is trusted 
  by everyone, gets a lot of business, and grows 
  steadily wealthier. Operating through sea cap-
  tain clients, he regularly invests this wealth in 
  farms and warehouses in Impiltur, Alaghôn, and 
  Westgate.
   
  Nalune Tassarat of Ormpur: Tassarat is an 
  aging former escort who throughout her early 
  life invested her earnings in shady smuggling, 
  slaving, drug-dealing and thieving. Her invest-
  ments earned a lot of coin that in later life she 
  put into building luxurious pleasure houses and 
  palatial city towers that she split into rental hous-
  ing, floor by floor. The palatial rentals proved 
  a huge hit with Ormpurrians who weren’t quite 
  wealthy enough to own and maintain large man-
  sions, but wanted luxury and haughty addresses. 
  “Old Nalune” always wanted hidden tunnels and 
  chambers in her buildings, and made much side-
  line coin aiding individuals who needed to go into 
  hiding for a time, or who wanted to meet pleasure 
  partners discreetly. Now, in the twilight of her 
  years, she is increasingly investing in clever trad-
  ers from Tharsult and Lantan, sponsoring them 
  on fair terms—and raking in coins as a result. It’s 
  said she sleeps on a bed of cabochon-cut, smooth-
  polished rubies, and that she is beginning to 
  consort with necromancers with an eye to achiev-
  ing undeath.
  Cabals
  Most folk of the Realms will never meet or be 
  crushed by the actions of a coin mountain. Their 
  foes, manipulators, and governors of what they 
  can buy or sell and at what prices, are far more 
  likely to be merchants of lesser power. That is, 
  local families and trading companies or just hand-
  fuls of ordinary shopkeepers who meet in back 
  rooms to divide up local markets (“Azreth can 
  sell all the apples he wants, so long as he leaves 
  the parsnips to me!”), fix prices, set availability, 
  and decide which fellow merchants are welcome, 
  and who should be ruined and forced out of the 
  community.
   
  These cabals can be benevolent, but—human 
  nature (which is really the nature of most demi-
  humans as well) being what it is—they are more 
  often ruthless. Until one is uncovered and some-
  one sees a way to shatter its power or goes to 
  the trouble of taking it away, a cabal can be very 
  effective.
   
  Cabals give jobs to each other’s sons and 
  daughters and “slow” relatives, cooperate to buy 
  up land or vacant shops, and generally arrange 
  matters to their mutual benefit. Few cabals do 
  any harm to caravan traders who stop for a night 
  and sell pots more cheaply than their own mem-
  bers do—other than to explain away the price 
  disparity by saying, “Those are stolen wares, of 
  course—or scavenged from the homes of folk who 
  died of terrible diseases!” Yet if an outlander pot 
  maker tries to settle locally and sell his pots, or 
  
  Chapter 4
  118
  a crofter takes to often walking into town to sell 
  pots, something bad will happen. The interloper 
  gets beaten up and robbed by masked “outlaws” 
  who are really cabal members or their hirelings, 
  and if that doesn’t settle things, the pot maker’s 
  shop or the crofter’s hut catches fire and burns 
  down.
   
  All across the Realms, day by day, such sor-
  did, local behind-the-scenes dealings govern 
  life for many. Family ties, secret pacts between 
  merchants (“Boots? Ah, I don’t deal in boots no 
  more; ye’d best see young Eldro Aldraunth, down 
  yon street, if it’s boots ye want!”), and the illicit 
  acts of cabals rule the lives of common folk more 
  often and more firmly than do distant kings or 
  lordlings.
   
  All of which leads to more work for adventur-
  ers, of course—either as hired thugs working for 
  a cabal, or as the only way those under the thumb 
  of a cabal can strike back at their oppressors.
  COINAGE
  A bewildering variety of coinage is strewn across 
  the Realms, with many different local names for 
  the familiar copper, silver, and gold pieces. There 
  are triangular coins, square coins, circular coins, 
  and oval coins—which are by far the most com-
  mon. They are of different metals, and some are 
  pierced when minted for stringing on rings or 
  cords. Many other coins are pierced with small 
  holes by merchants when in use, though very few 
  are cut in half, since partial coins are seldom con-
  sidered to have any value. Decorations on coins 
  are almost always stamped on their faces, and 
  edges are left plain. These decorations can be 
  anything from crude numerals to detailed illustra-
  tions, although certain countries tend to cling to 
  a consistent style, or at least an equivalent artistic 
  style. Calimshan, Sembia, Amn, Cormyr, Silvery-
  moon, and Waterdeep are generally considered to 
  have the artistically finest coins.
   
  Most coins bear simple devices, usually heral-
  dic badges. Some display stylized crowns with a 
  ruler’s name underneath, and a few, mainly the 
  artistically finest coins of valuable denominations, 
  have lifelike rulers’ heads impressed on them, 
  usually in side profile.
   
  In general, Waterdeep’s coinage, except for the 
  harbor moon and the taol (or “toal”; either name 
  is correct), is accepted without question all over 
  the Sword Coast lands, the Sword Coast North, 
  and offshore from Calimshan north. Coins of 
  Cormyr and Sembia are considered the regional 
  standard for the Dragon Coast, the Dragon 
  Reach, the Vast, the Dales, the Moonsea, and 
  the Vilhon. The authokh and the bebolt (detailed 
  hereafter) are common coinage from Chessenta 
  southward. “Common coinage” means that a 
  given coin will be accepted at face value by most 
  folk. Merchants who travel accept a wider variety 
  of coinage, but are better at detecting false coins.
   
  The origin of a coin (where it comes from) is 
  an important factor, as coins from different ori-
  gins command different degrees of respect, based 
  on consistent quality and freedom from counter-
  feiting—or at least, freedom from counterfeits 
  using less valuable metal than the originals. Coins 
  of Amn, Cormyr, Luskan, Mirabar, Sembia, Sil-
  verymoon, Tethyr, and Waterdeep are considered 
  the best-made in Faerûn and are the most highly 
  valued in trade. Cormyrean coins are extremely 
  pure metal, very heavy, and resistant to wear; 
  Sembian coins are deemed slightly inferior to 
  Cormyrean coins.
  The Authokh and the Bebolt
  These currencies are widely used in Chessenta, 
  the Vilhon, Border Kingdoms, the Tashalar, and 
  everywhere south of that. They began as the coin-
  age of a single city in Chessenta, though exactly 
  which city has been forgotten.
   
  An authokh (oth-awk) is a square coin stamped 
  out of “delmed” silver with a small central hole to 
  allow it to be strung onto a pay-thong or a wire 
  loop. Delming is an alloying process that stops sil-
  ver from tarnishing by combining it with copper 
  and certain white metals in precise proportions. 
  This process has the side effects of turning the 
  silver a translucent green  and making its surface 
  incapable of taking a high shine, no matter how it 
  is polished. On one face, it bears an engraved ring 
  of twelve leaves encircling the central hole, and on 
  the other side a ring of twelve radiating daggers.
   
  A bebolt (also called a “belbolt,” usually short-
  ened to “bolt”) is a thick, heavy gold coin of a 
  curious shape. A circle with two shallow, match-
  ing cut-outs in its edges, a bebolt looks like two 
  axe-heads fused back-to-back with their curved 
  blades outermost.
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  119
   
  Authokhs and bebolts are accepted in Amn, 
  Scornubel, and Westgate, but not in Cormyr, 
  Sembia, the Dales, the Dragon Reach, the 
  Moonsea, the Sword Coast lands, or Tethyr. In 
  Calimshan and Waterdeep, an authokh is consid-
  ered simply a silver piece, and a bebolt is classed 
  as “a heavy” (a gold piece valued at 2 gp rather 
  than just 1 gp).
  Shining Examples
  Here follow details of some of the most elaborate, 
  artistic, and widely esteemed coinage in all of 
  Faerûn.
   
  Calaunt: Coins of this city are roughly 
  stamped-out circles of gold, silver, and copper 
  with the Scepter’s sigil on one side and a key on 
  the other. The sigil is a vertical human right hand 
  clenched in a fist around a horizontal scepter. 
  The fingers of the hand are toward the viewer, 
  and the scepter is a plain metal bar ending in a 
  four-pointed star at each end. The key is a long-
  barreled device etched on the diagonal, with a 
  two-flange-end at the viewer’s lower left, and a 
  three-loop-leaf handle at the viewer’s upper right. 
  Behind it are three parallel wavy horizontal lines, 
  representing waves and Calauntan shipping.
   
  Cormyr: Modern Cormyrean coins bear the 
  monarch’s face and name on one side and a date, 
  a denomination, and a mint mark on the other. 
  For nine out of ten coins, this mark is a full-on 
  bearded, hatless wizard’s face, referred to as “Old 
  Vangey” but meant to represent all War Wizards 
  and denoting the Royal Mint in Suzail. About ten 
  percent of coins instead bear two parallel cres-
  cent moons, their horns to the dexter. This mark 
  denote a High Horn minting. The High Horn 
  fortress has always had a smithy and nearby “dun-
  geon” caverns used to store metals mined in the 
  surrounding mountains.
   
  There’s been only one minting since the death 
  of Azoun IV. Rather than an Obarskyr’s face, 
  such “Regency” coins bear the Purple Dragon 
  royal arms with five parallel bars on its body. 
  Older Cormyrean coins (minted in 1290 DR 
  and earlier) don’t bear dates, but instead have a 
  line saying “first minting,” “second minting,” 
  or the like, in reference to the reign of the mon-
  arch under which the coins were issued. There 
  were eight mintings during the reign of Azoun 
  IV, but three is the highest count any earlier king 
  managed.
   
  Sembia: Sembian coins have become more 
  numerous, thanks to the country’s growing 
  wealth, size, and ever-soaring mercantile activ-
  ity. They tend to be larger but thinner than most 
  other coinage. All have the arms of Sembia on 
  one side and, on the reverse, the denomination on 
  the top of the coin and the date (in DR) curving 
  around a “proof stamp” (mint mark) in the mid-
  dle. Sembian coins often have a bluish tinge from 
  being fire-cleaned of the grease they are exposed 
  to during their stamping. The grease is deliber-
  ately cooked into the iron coins to inhibit rust, 
  and it does a fair, if not foolproof, job.
   
  Westgate: After 1364 DR, Westgate stopped 
  regularly minting coins for about a decade. As a 
  result, its already easy acceptance of the coinage 
  of many lands became entrenched. In Westgate, 
  almost all outland coin is valued the same way 
  currency is in most places: by condition, purity 
  of the metal, size (as pertains to the amount of 
  metal), and origin. Exceptions are Cormyrean 
  and Sembian coins; those coins are accepted as 
  common coinage, just as they are in the Dales, 
  the Moonsea, the Vilhon, the Dragon Reach, the 
  Vast, and the Dragon Coast. However, Westgate 
  also accepts the authokh and bebolt, whereas 
  those other places do not.
  Zhentil Keep’s Currency
  The Keep has been a trading center from its 
  founding, and so home to all manner of imported 
  currency. It also has a good deal of rough-smelted 
  trade bars—a result of the wealth the metal 
  mines north of the Moonsea pours south through 
  Zhentil Keep. The Keep has had various local 
  mintings, most of them rough-edged and irregu-
  lar. Zhentil Keep coins usually bear the crude 
  stamping of a portcullis gate on one side and a 
  diamond-shaped gemstone on the other.
   
  In the years since the rebuilding of the Keep in 
  the 1370s DR, a few copper and silver coins and 
  a lot of gold coins have been minted, as needed 
  by the Zhentarim to pay their Zhentilar and sup-
  pliers. The copper and silver are mere coatings 
  on iron, deemed worthless by most folk outside 
  Zhentil Keep. However, the gold coins are made 
  of the “real gleam,” a slightly reddish gold found 
  mainly northeast of Glister (and there are rumors 
  
  Chapter 4
  120
  of vast amounts of the smelted red gold buried 
  under or near the Citadel of the Raven).
   
  The details that follow apply only to these lat-
  ter mintings.
   
  Copper Coin: Square, pierced by a central 
  hole to allow stringing, the four sharp corners 
  snipped off. Face side: the Wingless Dragon (a 
  scaled serpent with a fanciful head) biting its own 
  tail and curled around a central hole; its head 
  faces counterclockwise. Obverse: ten tiny four-
  pointed stars, encircling the central hole. Known 
  as a fang in Zhentil Keep and the Dales, but else-
  where as a dung piece.
   
  Silver Coin: Triangular, pierced by a central 
  hole to allow stringing, all corners intact. The 
  silver usually wears off quickly. Both sides: six 
  four-pointed stars encircling the central hole. 
  Known as a talon or a naal (nah-ull; probably a 
  distortion of the word “nail”) in the Keep and the 
  Dales, but everywhere else as a dung-flea bit or 
  just a flea bit.
   
  Gold Coin: Square, with corners intact and 
  no central hole. Two parallel sides are concave for 
  easy grasping by thumbs. Face side: three cren-
  elated castle turret tops, the central one slightly 
  taller than the others. Obverse: the profile of a 
  wolf’s head with its nose to the dexter and with 
  three drops of tears or blood falling away beneath 
  it. Known formally as a glory, but called a weep-
  ing wolf everywhere, even in Zhentil Keep.
  Take My Coin, Sir?
  Throughout the Realms, the acceptance of older 
  or unfamiliar coins depends on their condition 
  and the metal of which they are made. Gold coins 
  are accepted everywhere at face value unless they 
  are broken, unusually small, or obviously impure. 
  Silver coins that have tarnished to black are sel-
  dom accepted, but if they are cleaned without 
  ruining their markings, they’ll probably be ac-
  cepted, too. For everything else, folk must go 
  to a money changer, which is no hardship since 
  most cities on any coast or major trade route have 
  several.
   
  The oval, rather than round, shape of many 
  Faerûnian coins comes from the comparative ease 
  of getting oval coins “lined up right” in wooden 
  molds for striking their second sides. When the 
  coins are round, doing so is much more diffi-
  cult and takes longer. The striking itself creates 
  distortion, causing meant-to-be-round coins to be 
  rejected because they’ve ended up oval instead. 
  So, long ago, most realms just adopted oval as 
  their standard.
   
  Coins from long-gone lands that have been 
  drilled, are lighter than today’s norm, or less 
  pure are worth less. In present-day lands, even 
  for mintings from the reigns of much earlier 
  kings, the collective will of far-traveling mer-
  chants firmly prevails. This influence is the same 
  reason why outland coins are present and ac-
  cepted at all, rather than being melted down for 
  their precious metal content and refashioned into 
  something else. The merchants, mainly caravan 
  traders, want a gold piece from Amn to be equal 
  to a gold piece from Sembia to help keep every 
  single merchant from being cheated in every last 
  transaction.
   
  “Slighting” coins (shaving them, cutting bits 
  off, and the like) reduces their acceptability but 
  not necessarily their value. A merchant might say, 
  “I’m not taking that coin, friend—find a real gold 
  piece in your purse, or the deal’s off!” If a mer-
  chant accepts a coin at all, it will be for its stated 
  face value, except in transactions when both par-
  ties privately agree otherwise. For this reason, 
  contracts sometimes specify “to be paid in law-
  ful coin of Cormyr,” or some other realm or city. 
  Moreover, coin alterations such as hole punching 
  and bisecting don’t affect the acceptability of the 
  coin at all when such alteration is done officially 
  by the realm or a regional ruler.
   
  In effect, the merchants of Faerûn act in 
  concert—without any formal agreement or dis-
  cussions—to establish the equivalent of a “gold 
  standard.”
  Trade Bars
  Trade bars are widely accepted because they must 
  conform closely to a given size and weight to be 
  accepted at all. They are an easy way to melt 
  down and reuse suspicious coins, because an ex-
  isting trade bar can be pressed into clay to make a 
  mold for a new trade bar.
   
  A 25 gp trade bar is a brick with rounded 
  corners of just over an inch thick, three inches 
  across, and six inches in length. The corners were 
  not always rounded in the past, but squared cor-
  ners broke off too easily, and the unscrupulous 
  had a habit of deliberately breaking off corners, 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  121
  so rounded corners became the norm. Calishite 
  trade bars—also used in Tharsult, Tashluta 
  and the Tashalar, and other Southern trade—
  are seven inches long, but both long sides bow 
  smoothly inward half an inch on each side, mak-
  ing the bar easier to grip.
   
  A trade bar valued at 50 gp has the same dimen-
  sions as a 25 gp bar, except it is three inches thick 
  rather than one inch thick. It also tapers inward 
  across that thickness, so the top surface of a 50 gp 
  trade bar is a half-inch smaller than its base. There 
  are no legal bow-sided 50 gp trade bars.
   
  A 75 gp trade bar is an inch thicker than a 50 
  gp bar, with no taper to its sides at all.
   
  A 100 gp trade bar is two inches thick, three 
  inches across, and nine inches long, with a central 
  hole for carrying on a cord, or for using a cord to 
  tie several trade bars into a bundle. The hole isn’t 
  much more than an inch across.
   
  Proof and ownership marks are commonly 
  stamped into the bottom surface of a trade bar, 
  and don’t affect its value.
   
  Trade bars minted more than two centuries 
  ago vary widely in dimensions and value. For 
  this reason, when they are traded they are either 
  weighed to ascertain their value or melted down 
  and recast. Most hidden hoards of trade bars are 
  the results of hasty burials in the face of advanc-
  ing foes or fierce weather, and are soon snapped 
  up when nature or chance digging uncovers them.
  Putting Money to Work
  As the clergy of Waukeen—and soon, everyone 
  else—have said for decades, “Coin kept at home is 
  begging to be stolen.”
   
  All wise Waterdhavians invest the money they 
  make, if it’s enough to more than cover their 
  debts and ongoing needs in the “sure and cer-
  tain.” Often these investments are loans to guilds 
  or real estate in the city—which usually means 
  new buildings in new wards, or buying collapsed 
  or tottering buildings in Dock Ward or elsewhere 
  grim, tearing them down, and putting up nice 
  new ones that they then rent out. Those who have 
  a taste for greater risk with higher margins invest 
  in caravan or ship cargoes.
   
  Temples tend to fulfill the functions of real-
  world banks, but their rates are ruinous to the 
  small lender and borrower, which includes most 
  laborers and commoners. These small lenders 
  and borrowers instead use moneylenders, such as 
  the infamous Mirt. Moneylending is a common 
  living for an adventurer or a mercenary who is too 
  old or wounded to continue that profession, who 
  has made a few coins and kept up on connections 
  with hireswords.
   
  Most moneylenders are “smallcoin” folk who 
  deal with laborers. Stereotypically, this sort of 
  character is a Scrooge-style miser in charge of a 
  gang who’ll beat you up if you don’t pay.
   
  More genteel lenders, known as rollcoins, 
  make large sums available to outfit a shop, or 
  buy an entire cargo or a herd or other large “sure 
  thing” purchase. Only the genuinely ruined de-
  fault on one of these short-term loans, because 
  doing so means they’re finished in the city. 
  Rollcoins always demand collateral that’s either 
  nonportable, such as real estate, or “under the 
  hand” (given into their keeping), so either way 
  they don’t lose.
   
  Rollcoins are treated with respect by all, since 
  successful city dwellers are always planning for 
  what might happen if grim days come, and ris-
  ing citizens are always looking around to learn 
  who will be useful to them. This respect is exhib-
  ited even when a lender is cordially hated behind 
  the smiles, as happens with grasping, leering, 
  unpleasant rollcoins who casually pilfer from cli-
  ents or prospective clients—in other words, the 
  sort that always features in ballads and nasty 
  tavern tales.
   
  An example of such a moneylender in Water-
  deep in the 1370s DR is the thin, long-nosed, 
  nasal-voiced, black-robed, always-humming Ulk-
  roun of Ship Street. Baerenth Ulkroun was a wily 
  and long-lived man who was succeeded in 1441 
  DR by his son Harlatlam, who in turn was suc-
  ceeded in 1469 DR by his son Azimurl; all three 
  were very much alike.
  Banking
  Faerûn has no places or organizations called 
  banks, but there are providers of banking 
  services, which the Realms calls “manycoin ser-
  vices.” Manycoin services include moneylending, 
  money changing, and “keepsafe” (safe storage).
   
  In the Realms, several groups provide many-
  coin services. Temples offer them to individuals 
  of the right faith, guilds provide them to mem-
  bers, and some caravan costers provide them to 
  
  Chapter 4
  122
  everyone located in the cities in which they are 
  based. In addition, independent moneylenders 
  offer manycoin services to everyone—including 
  adventuring bands and noble families.
   
  By tradition—and because they want to stay 
  in business—independent moneylenders across 
  Faerûn provide manycoin services with no ques-
  tions asked. That is, they won’t report to local 
  authorities when and how much anyone “prof-
  fers” (deposits) or “redeems” (withdraws), or if 
  someone proffers something stolen or sought 
  after by the government or anyone else (such as 
  a royal crown an entire army is searching for). 
  As the moneylenders’ saying runs, “Utter discre-
  tion, with coded receipts (priests of Waukeen 
  refereeing).”
   
  “Keepsafe” refers to the holding of coins 
  (which the moneylenders invest, to make them-
  selves more funds), contracts and other valuable 
  documents, and small portable valuables such as 
  expensive jewelry worth too much to comfortably 
  store at home, or to carry while traveling.
   
  So, a moneylender makes money from you on 
  loans, and charges you small storage fees for hold-
  ing your money, without paying you any interest. 
  Which is why most noble families do their own 
  investing, or have their own factors (trade agents) 
  to handle such matters for them if they don’t have 
  the time or interest for daily transactions and 
  wealth-building.
   
  Citizens high and low often conceal their funds 
  by melting gold or silver and hiding the resulting 
  thin platelets inside thick castle doors, under roof 
  tiles, and the like. A farmer might bury a pot of 
  coins under the muddiest part of his pig wallow.
   
  Many wealthy individuals and groups in the 
  Realms see the need for what we might think of 
  as a Swiss bank account and the Realms calls a 
  “silent safehold.” That is, a stash for money the 
  owner wants to quietly hold onto for later needs, 
  far from where foes can steal it or governments 
  can tax it or spy on it. So paying someone a mod-
  est annual handling fee to quietly “safehold” large 
  amounts of wealth, for certain individuals, is both 
  a bargain and an ideal service.
   
  Moneylenders tend to be individuals, except 
  for a handful of upper-crust lenders. A few of 
  these haughtiest are partnerships, yet still use 
  their partners’ own names, and so end up sound-
  ing like real-world law firms. A few Waterdhavian 
  examples:
   
  Anasader & Thelmuth
   
  Bertoltan, Dunther, and Haroond
   
  Kelthtor & Navarl
   
  Tanntannath & Frynch
   
  In addition to these partnerships, a handful 
  of individuals are moneylenders to the nobility, 
  in particular Gaerethus Haldrand (Horn Street, 
  North Ward) and Molneth Drathtorn (Tharleon 
  Street, Castle Ward).
   
  Dealing with an upper-crust moneylender is 
  done in a private room. Servants accompanied by 
  hulking uniformed guards accompany every pa-
  tron to his or her own room. There are generally 
  three or four of these rooms clustered around a 
  central strongdark, in which the moneylender and 
  the cash sit. The word “strongdark” is derived 
  from “darkened strong room,” and it’s usually a 
  room with many stub walls concealed by black 
  curtains that the occupants can hide behind if 
  attacked.
   
  The entrance to the business, and all areas that 
  patrons see, are of imposing polished stone, with 
  ornate metal furnishings and trim. Everything is 
  crafted to be impressive and fireproof, so no visi-
  tor can start a blaze and try to seize coins in the 
  resulting tumult.
   
  Those going to one of the loftier Waterdhavian 
  moneylenders to access a safehold are conducted 
  alone through nigh-silent, lofty passages and 
  rooms of polished marble, gold (gold-plated, 
  rather, over cheaper and sturdier metal) doors, 
  and the like.
   
  A safehold owner desiring to access his or 
  her funds then murmurs through a chased and 
  worked slotted metal barrier to the moneylender, 
  “The [code name] safehold.” This code name is 
  a word or phrase that represents the account; it is 
  not the owner’s name. Usually it’s something like 
  “High Falcon” or “Three Toes” or some unusual 
  phrase or word not directly related to a family’s 
  heraldry or names.
   
  The moneylender then asks, “In or out?” while 
  thrusting forward a shallow tray of smooth sand. 
  “In” means a proffering, and “out” means re-
  demption. The requester replies, “In,” “Out,” 
  “Both,” or something else, and draws a symbol 
  in the sand. Whereupon the moneylender pulls 
  the tray back through the slot, examines the sym-
  bol and perhaps checks it against a coded ledger, 
  then immediately draws a knife across the sand 
  to smooth the tray “blank” again. At this point, 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  123
  the moneylender either refuses the requester if 
  the symbol was wrong, or, if the symbol is right, 
  offers the first part of the pass phrase (which is 
  recorded in another coded ledger). The refusal of 
  a requester is often backed up with guards, loosed 
  war dogs, or the release of unpleasant gas or a 
  spray of onion juice.
   
  The pass phrase works like this: The lender 
  speaks a word or a phrase (never a question), and 
  the person desiring to access the account must 
  make the correct response.
   
  Typical examples of pass phrases are:
   
  “High tides” answered by “Land more cargo 
  and fish.”
   
  “Three fingers” answered by “One is too many 
  to lose.”
   
  “North of Silverymoon” answered by “Fell my 
  arrow.”
  TRADE GOODS
  Naturally, almost anything can be bought and 
  sold—and is—across the Realms. Ranging from 
  the pervasive to the esoteric, here are a few of the 
  most noteworthy examples of what Faerûnians 
  produce, purchase, and covet.
  Mongery
  “Mongery” is the usual Realms term for nails 
  and more exotic fasteners, hinges, hasps, hooks, 
  and the various straps, bolts, framing irons, and 
  the like used in building doors and windows and 
  their frames. Not to mention pots, pans, caul-
  drons, spits, trivets—and horseshoes. In other 
  words, anything made of metal that’s not a tool or 
  a weapon.
   
  There are thousands of smiths in the Realms, 
  with the usual wide variety of skills, and they 
  all work to create countless thousands of metal 
  things folk want to buy. The pace of their creation 
  almost keeps pace with the destruction of rust, 
  hard wear, and extreme cold. So there’s “always 
  good trade in useful things made of metal.”
   
  In the 1370s DR, screws and threaded bolts 
  are “holy secrets of Gond,” and pretty much 
  limited to temples and to furniture and special 
  devices built, guarded, and used only by priests 
  of that god. “Link bolts” are created by dwarf 
  and gnome smiths, and by human smiths up and 
  down the Sword Coast and around the shores of 
  the Shining Sea. However, these link bolts are the 
  threadless sort: a rod pierced by a hole that can be 
  filled with a pin or a wedge. In use, the rod is run 
  through a hole in a timber or a stone block, and 
  the pin is applied to the hole on its far side to keep 
  the rod from being pulled back through. Shim-
  wedges are used when it is necessary to make the 
  fastening secure and rigid rather than loose.
   
  Metal strap hinges with simple, single pivot 
  pins are known and widely used, as are rigid 
   angle-braces of the same design. These angle-
  braces lack a hinge, and instead feature a bent 
  right angle of metal. Both hinges are used to 
  protect and strengthen the corners and sides 
  of carry-chests and strongchests. Hook-and-
  eye catches are known but are used only for 
  small-sized, interior projects. Seasonal freez-
  ing problems make larger and exterior usages of 
  hook-and-eye catches rare in the North.
   
  Nails, spikes, and wedges (wooden, metal, 
  and stone) are known everywhere, though only 
  dwarves and gnomes make and work with stone 
  ones, and wooden ones are less popular due to 
  weathering and short-life problems. Delicate work 
  such as needles and wire tends to be rare and ex-
  pensive, except in Calimshan and the Tashalar.
   
  Most mongery production among humans is 
  performed by smiths hand-making what is press-
  ingly needed plus a few extra for sale. Apprentices 
  are often kept busy making nails and spikes, so 
  successful smiths tend to build up a fairly impres-
  sive inventory of nails and spikes of all sizes, as 
  well as hooks and “eye spikes” (nails made for 
  driving into tree trunks or wooden walls, with 
  a long shaft made for fashioning into a ring on 
  which one can fasten ropes).
   
  However, there are mass makers of mongery, 
  including surface human foundries, in Waterdeep, 
  Amn (several), Tethyr, Sembia, Turmish, Calim-
  shan (many), and the Tashalar (many).
   
  In Cormyr, there are five very busy local 
  smiths but no mongery-only foundries. One in 
  Arabel sells much of its wares either in Suzail or 
  to the wider Realms through the docks of Suzail, 
  with a trickle of trade flowing through the Dales 
  to the Moonsea. This foundry is known as Garth-
  en’s Hammer, after the now-aging smith Askarl 
  Garthen. Askarl Garthen is a human whose fam-
  ily came from Everlund, and his own numerous 
  children and grandchildren work and run the 
  foundry to this day. 
  
  Chapter 4
  124
   
  Garthen’s Hammer is a series of connected 
  buildings on the north side of the street that runs 
  right through Arabel, just inside High Horn Gate. 
  It was formerly across the street, due south of its 
  current location, but it expanded into the prem-
  ises of a decaying old inn, and Garthen sold his 
  former location to a wealthy and ambitious Su-
  zailan merchant. The merchant, one Handren 
  Tharmarklor, tore down the old smithy and built 
  on its site a mixed-shops complex that he rents 
  out. Tharmarklor himself inhabits the upper-
  most three floors of Tharspire—the tower that 
  rises from the northwesternmost building of the 
  Tharmarklor’s Doors complex. Garthen more or 
  less permanently rents the southernmost House 
  of Thond warehouse for his inventory of nails, 
  spikes, axe heads, hooks, eye-spikes, door plates 
  (both kickplates and lockplates), and strap hinges. 
  Traders’ wagons run almost constantly from this 
  warehouse to Suzail and elsewhere. Garthen 
  himself takes no part in marketing his wares, re-
  stricting himself to selling from his premises in 
  Arabel.
  Glass and Ceramics
  Glass is common in some parts of the Realms and 
  as rare as gold and gems in others. In most places, 
  windows are leaded affairs of many small panes, 
  rather than huge, rectangular unbroken panes. 
  Moreover, most glass is “shifty”—full of bubbles 
  and uneven thicknesses and whorls that distort 
  reflections and anything seen through them. 
  Shutters are the norm: in winter, full overlapping 
  boards sealed with pitch, and in summer, slats 
  over which layers of gauze are tacked. The gauze 
  keeps the insects out, and if the dust gets bad, 
  occupants wet down the gauze to impede it. The 
  abodes of the poor have shutters but lack glass, 
  and some homes have frames around openings 
  into which boards are slid on a daily basis, but 
  precious glass can be used on special occasions, 
  such as royal visits and marriages.
   
  In most parts of the Dales, drinking vessels 
  are made of carved wood, soak-sealed leather, 
  or ceramic, and a “glass glass” is regarded as an 
  incredible luxury. After all, why make a drink-
  ing vessel out of something breakable, when glass 
  is so expensive? The wealthy tend to favor glass 
  drinking vessels to flaunt their wealth. They 
  capitalize on this display of wealth by concocting 
  social rituals that involve the deliberate hurl-
  ing and shattering of glasses. (A “tallglass,” the 
  etched wineglass of the wealthier Realms, is 
  something like a champagne flute but slightly 
  larger. Capacity varies, but in real-world measure-
  ments, it usually holds around 10 ounces.)
   
  Mica is used in place of window glass in areas 
  where it can be easily found and mined, and 
  some dwarf and gnome clans know how to cut 
  certain types of stone very thin, producing slabs 
  that admit a glow of light when set into window 
  frames.
   
  Homemade ceramics and copper cups in daily 
  use have a maker’s mark on the base and a sin-
  gle badge-like design on the bowl or body that 
  identifies the owner. (“That’s my cup—see?”) 
  Commercial pieces are either decorated with 
  badges, runes, or devices for specific buyers or-
  dering such finishes, or they have a few simple 
  decorations to encourage someone at a market to 
  purchase them.
   
  A typical Dales ceramic drinking vessel has 
  a flat, rough, unfinished base that flares inward 
  slightly. The outside walls of the cup are either 
  vertical or slightly convex, and the inside resem-
  bles a smooth bowl. The base and the handle are 
  often dark brown, the lip usually a natural clay 
  hue. The middle of the body is usually glazed a 
  deep blue, and the body is often decorated with 
  repeating waves, stippling drawn with a finger, or 
  even a series of fingertip impressions to outline a 
  face, sun, or flower head.
   
  Ceramic containers share several kinds of 
  adornments with copper vessels. For instance, 
  some have a bearded smiling face sculpted in re-
  lief on the body, across from the handle; some 
  have a handle shaped like the head and scaled 
  neck of a serpent, a wyvern, or a dragon, some-
  times with a suggestion of wing outlined across 
  the body of the vessel; and some have an oval 
  frame on one or both sides of the body, enclos-
  ing a scene. Such a frame is often shaped to look 
  like a snake biting its own tail, or a sword belt 
  with various elaborate buckles. The scenes inside 
  these frames are sometimes of birds or the heads 
  of animals (stags are popular), but are more often 
  simplified scenes of heroism, such as a lone knight 
  defending a bridge against many mounted foes, a 
  man wrestling off a hungry bear, or a depiction of 
  a local legend. A couple of popular local legends 
  are a wronged wife turning into a dragon or a 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  125
  swan, and a castle cracking and falling because its 
  owner broke his word or lost a bet.
   
  Many folk imbibe out of a drinking-jack, which 
  is a beast’s horn or the ceramic equivalent fitted 
  with a frame and feet to hold it upright when it is 
  not being held in the hand.
   
  In the cities of Amn, Tethyr, Calimshan, and 
  Sembia, and in Waterdeep, glass is relatively com-
  mon, and there are even glass ornaments for sale.
  Exotic Trade Woods
  Certain rare woods of the Realms have value as 
  trade goods because of innate properties that 
  make them ideal for carved furnishings and 
  household objects. The wood of the barausk tree, 
  found in Harrowdale and Deepingdale, has the 
  hardness of iron (once the green wood is dry). 
  Rosecork, native to the Inner Sea isle of Prespur, 
  is virtually fireproof and thus increasingly popu-
  lar with builders.
   
  When cut to expose its grain, barausk is dark 
  brown mottled with gray-green to the casual 
  glance. When it is more closely examined, the 
  gray-green tinges come from places where the 
  grain is folded back in on itself very tightly. The 
  grain of barausk looks like a maze, or like meat-
  balls resting in much-folded spaghetti, or like the 
  “crazed” banding that surrounds burls in other 
  woods. The wood dulls or breaks blades when 
  dry, but can be readily cut when wet and green, or 
  after being soaked in water for a day or so. Spray-
  ing the wood with water repeatedly for a few days 
  will make the surface soft to a depth of only about 
  a finger-width; once this much is carved away, the 
  newly exposed surface must be wetted again to 
  soften the wood for deeper carving. Dry barausk 
  turns brittle—and stays that way—if heated, but 
  otherwise is both iron-hard and durable.
   
  Rosecork, on the other hand, is useless for de-
  tailed carving work because it splits along its grain 
  readily and cleanly. This same property makes it 
  ideal for inlays, building panels, and the like. It 
  has a pleasant light, reddish, speckled wood-grain 
  appearance akin to that of the more abundant and 
  familiar cork tree. It absorbs and holds moisture, 
  which is one of the reasons it resists fire—think 
  of a wall that emits its own steam-sprinkler when 
  exposed to heat. This quality makes untreated 
  rosecork horribly susceptible to molds, and thus 
  a good base for the deliberate growth of fungi for 
  food or medicine, or for that matter for dungeon 
  traps (at the bottom of a pit, for example). Certain 
  herbal water concoctions, when brushed on rose-
  cork, forever prevent spores from growing within 
  the grain while allowing the wood to retain its wa-
  ter-holding qualities. Though it is spongy to the 
  touch, rosecork doesn’t leak water if it is sucked 
  on, crushed, or prodded, though a thirsty person 
  could slash a panel of rosecork and glean a few 
  drops from each cut.
  Smokepowder
  This rare, legendary substance is viewed in most 
  places in the Realms as unreliable and often con-
  sidered “dangerous, corrupting magic.” Many 
  colorful false beliefs about smokepowder abound 
  among commoners, some of them due to false-
  hoods spread deliberately.
   
  Most places have strict rules about its importa-
  tion and possession. Importing smokepowder into 
  Cormyr during most of the 1300s DR requires a 
  Crown license and a full explanation to a senior 
  War Wizard, such as Vangerdahast, his second-
  in-command Laspeera, or one of the six or so 
  mages a single step down from them, plus Ala-
  phondar or a court clerk. This explanation must 
  include what the smokepowder is required for, 
  where and how it will be stored, how soon it will 
  be used, and so on.
   
  In the case of someone officially trying to con-
  quer the Stonelands, approval will be automatic 
  so long as the Crown is satisfied that the smoke-
  powder will be guarded well enough so that it 
  won’t immediately fall into Zhent hands.
   
  The interview process is kept as secret as pos-
  sible to keep the information from the ears of 
  treasonous nobles, and the license might come 
  with conditions. Common conditions are that the 
  smokepowder can’t be taken south of Waymoot, 
  or into Arabel for any reason.
   
  The license costs 500 gp, which pays for the 
  deployment of two War Wizards and two Purple 
  Dragon bodyguards, who become full-time spies 
  watching over the licensed smokepowder. The 
  precise strength of this watch isn’t shared with the 
  importer of the smokepowder, but that person is 
  warned that selling, giving away, or moving and 
  hiding the stuff—particularly by trying to split it 
  up and put small amounts in many places—will 
  result in its immediate confiscation.
  
  Chapter 4
  126
   
  What the importer isn’t told is that if this con-
  fiscation occurs, it will be carried out by dozens 
  of War Wizards with Purple Dragon bodyguards, 
  all of them acting with alertness, weapon and 
  spell readiness, and ruthlessness in keeping with 
  full wartime orders.
   
  As for individuals creating their own smokepow-
  der in Cormyr, anyone trying to become Baron 
  of the Stonelands is already under covert magical 
  surveillance by the War Wizards. If such a person 
  reports making more than around a handkeg’s 
  volume of smokepowder, he or she very swiftly 
  receives a visit from an unamused court official, 
  bolstered by all of the above-mentioned force, who 
  demands the purchase of a license and the assump-
  tion of all the conditions described above.
   
  In Waterdeep, smokepowder is banned, aside 
  from what the City Guard possesses and very 
  small amounts granted to specific Watchful Order 
  magists for experimental purposes. Even those 
  limited uses must be observed and supervised by 
  city officials.
   
  Smokepowder can be bought freely in the 
  “wild” trading city of Scornubel (and in later 
  years, in Mistshore and Downshadow). In Luskan 
  and Westgate, small quantities can be purchased 
  covertly, but any buyer invariably acquires an in-
  terested trail of spies.
  Lantan’s Works of Wonder
  In pre-Spellplague times, two factors govern what 
  fantastic gadgets from Lantan get into circulation 
  in mainland Faerûn: price and self-control.
   
  Price is based on demand and the nature of 
  buyers. How many folk will pay serious coin for, 
  say, a clockwork toy, or even a clock, when the 
  sun and local religious observances govern daily 
  events and when no one makes or keeps appoint-
  ments “by the minute” or “on the hour”? Palaces 
  and temples have their own timekeeping, and no 
  one else lives in accordance to a clock.
   
  Self-control is the usual merchant’s internal 
  battle between greed and the wider implications 
  of selling an item. Really powerful weapons, 
  beyond individual battlefield firearms and the 
  printing press, which have already found their 
  ways onto the mainland, are likely kept on Lan-
  tan. Such items are sent out of Lantan only 
  under strict conditions, such as having a Lan-
  tanese “minder” with them at all times, under the 
  fiction that the gadget in question is so complex 
  that it will keep working only under the supervi-
  sion and maintenance of a trained Lantanese. In 
  other words, young maverick inventors of Lantan 
  are restricted in what they can export by their 
   forward-looking seniors, who thanks to the reli-
  gion of Gond have the moral authority to do so.
   
  Lantan-made clockworks of great complexity 
  are known mainly through rumors on the main-
  land. Many nobles have complex toys, clocks, 
  and even water clocks. However, full-sized clock-
  work tin soldiers are another matter, thanks to 
  the severe weather and the tasks a garrison must 
  perform. If a client wants “dummy soldiers” that 
  can march along the battlements, or move in 
  very simple formations to block an entry arch, 
  lower pikes, and fire (not aim) loaded crossbows, 
  fine. If someone wants to rig a means of replac-
  ing the windlass that each crossbow requires with 
  a “mass-cranking” mechanism, also fine. If one 
  desires a very slow way to power simple wagons 
  or handcarts without steering them, or a means of 
  helping to load cart-mounted cranes and winches, 
  fine again. However, anything more complex is 
  beyond the machining competence or mainte-
  nance time (all that oiling!) of a lone Lantanese 
  expert. Mechanicals can’t run on uneven ground 
  or stairs, or use the judgment of living warriors 
  that is required for even simple tasks such as aim-
  ing at a visible foe, reacting with speed to enemy 
  tactics, or doing anything else of the sort.
   
  If the intent is to create metal men that ape 
  the movements of a human controller (telefac-
  toring), years of spell research are necessary. 
  Additionally, such a pursuit requires a lot of 
  space—courtyards and large chambers, not con-
  fined passages or small rooms—for a cluster of 
  rod-and-link-driven mechanicals to surround 
  the human operator. Mechanicals that sprout 
  from the faces of doors, and those that carry out 
  repeated movements—threshing blades, for in-
  stance, or devices that “fire arrows in a repeating 
  high-medium-low pattern down a passage”—are 
  both practical and deadly.
   
  Not many rulers or law keepers seem to have 
  yet realized that all manner of drugs, poisons, 
  weapons, and contraband goods—if suffi-
  ciently disguised—can be readily hidden “in 
  plain sight” inside elaborate clockworks, and 
  thereafter brought into close proximity to rul-
  ers, important officials, or wealthy individuals. 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  127
  It does seem that mind flayers, doppelgangers, 
  kenkus, and others who regard civilized folk 
  as prey, dupes, cattle, or potential victims have 
  grasped this ruse all too well.
  Scents and Perfumes
  Many humans in Faerûn use scents or perfumes 
  on themselves and their surroundings. The term 
  “perfume,” in contrast to “scent,” is increasingly 
  used to mean stronger smells that can be used on 
  objects or misted into the air to provide a lasting 
  smell that masks less pleasant odors.
   
  Most scents are made from natural substances 
  such as plant saps and distillates, and beast ichors 
  and organs, combined with each other along with 
  herbs or spices. The base is usually alcohol dis-
  tilled from vegetable sources. The source for most 
  Waterdhavian vegetable alcohol is the nearby, 
  sprawling temple-farm of Goldenfields.
   
  The combinations and processes are secret, be-
  cause it’s not easy to create scents that don’t stain 
  garments and skin and are stable. Unstable scents 
  tend to “go off,” rotting into a disgusting, sticky 
  mess, or separate. 
   
  The price range for most scents is from 1 gp to 
  16 gp per flask, with less savory equivalents (the 
  sort sold in Dock Ward, in Waterdeep) available 
  for 4 sp to 3 gp per flask.
   
  Guilds try to control scent-making in Water-
  deep and Cormyr. However, Waterdeep is so full 
  of purveyors—independent alchemists; charlatans 
  pretending to be alchemists; importers from the 
  busy perfumers of Calimshan and the Tasha-
  lar; and elves, gnomes, halflings, and dwarves 
  who make, use, and prefer their own traditional 
  scents—that any guild control over perfume-mak-
  ing is a mere fiction. Almost every shopkeeper has 
  a bottle of something to sell you, as do most fest-
  halls. (“Like how our staff smells? Take some of 
  that home with you!”)
   
  Some large-scale producers and some fairly 
  well-known formulae do exist, resulting in many 
  producers making very similar scents. Some of 
  the most widely available and best-known scents 
  are discussed below.
   
  Bluestars: A blue translucent liquid with gold 
  flecks, bluestars has a strong medicine smell until 
  it is applied to the body of a humanoid, where-
  upon it turns transparent and smells like fresh 
  before-storm winds (with the exception of orcs, 
  on whom it smells like fresh-baked bread). It also 
  instantly and lastingly banishes body odors and 
  strong food-related smells such as curry and gar-
  lic. The effects last for about a day. Bluestars is 
  purportedly made from forest dew that has mir-
  rored starlight, virgins’ tears, and a distillate of 
  alicorn (unicorn horn), but in fact it contains 
  none of these things. It is actually derived from 
  a specific kind of clay, the powdered shells of 
  a particular type of snail, and the saps of three 
  weeds. The cost per flask (holding about a pint) is 
  220 gp—its high price due to its odor-banishing 
  properties and alleged but false efficacy as a ward 
  against poisons.
   
  Darkdew: A scent that has been associated 
  with dangerous women for nigh a century, this 
  opaque black oily ointment is said to come from 
  the Underdark and to have something to do with 
  both the blood of monsters and the sweat of fe-
  male drow. In truth, it is a combination of three 
  plant oils, six herbs, and a distillate of slugs. It 
  turns transparent upon contact with the skin, and 
  it imparts a musky smell to the wearer for most of 
  a day that most folk, from fey to goblinkin, find 
  arousing. Darkdew tastes like black, bitter, unsug-
  ared licorice. The cost per flask is 176 gp.
   
  Harlyr: The cheapest widely known perfume 
  in Waterdeep, harlyr (har-leer) is a rose red trans-
  lucent liquid that feels slightly oily or gummy, and 
  smells of nothing at all. When applied to the body 
  of a humanoid (except for goblinkin), it turns 
  transparent and sinks into the skin and for the 
  next three hours or so, the wearer smells strongly 
  of a clear and pleasant fragrance like that of 
  freshly opened roses. If the wearer is a goblinkin, 
  the smell is like scorched urine. Harlyr is cor-
  rectly known to be made of nut oil, alcohol, and 
  the sap of three abundant, nondescript field flow-
  ers. The cost per flask is 4 sp.
   
  Jassal: Subtle but capable of wafting for long 
  distances, jassal is a fashionable scent that looks 
  like a blue-green translucent alcoholic drink and 
  smells like ripe cherries. It feels chilly when ap-
  plied to the body, turns transparent, and imparts 
  that same cherry smell to the wearer for around 
  six hours. It is widely believed to be made from 
  cherries, alcohol, and some secret ingredient, 
  but in fact is made from alcohol and the distilled 
  roots of thistles, nettles, and three small flowering 
  weeds. Priestesses of Loviatar long ago discovered 
  that if a body drenched in jassal is whipped, the 
  
  Chapter 4
  128
  skin briefly feels intense, “on fire” pain, but heals 
  itself of all scratches, weals, bruises, and other 
  small wounds. The church of Loviatar now uses 
  jassal in many rituals because of these properties. 
  Jassal-coated flesh makes a loud, cracking sound 
  when struck, and emits an intense cherry odor, 
  even if the initial smell has faded almost to noth-
  ing. The cost per flask is 140 gp.
   
  Sunrise: A yellow-orange translucent liquid, 
  sunrise smells like freshly grated lemons. On the 
  body it turns transparent and imparts a minty 
  smell with a citrus tang that lasts for around six 
  hours. It is widely believed to be made from alco-
  hol, various citrus fruits, and a secret ingredient. 
  In fact, it is alcohol in which specific sorts of mus-
  sels, oysters, and snails have been boiled, with the 
  addition of a few drops of the juice of a certain 
  sort of melon, and more than a few drops of rab-
  bit urine. The cost per flask is 20 gp.
   
  Tanlarl: A reddish brown, oily ointment, tan-
  larl turns transparent and stops feeling oily upon 
  contact with the skin. It smells of faint wood 
  smoke before contact with a body, and on some 
  bodies has no smell at all. However, on most fe-
  male bodies it smells mildewy, and on most male 
  bodies it smells warm and leathery, and the odor 
  is very attractive to females. Tanlarl is widely be-
  lieved to be made from the bodily secretions of 
  rare monsters, but is in fact derived from vegeta-
  ble oils, the livers of oxen, and certain herbs. The 
  smell is a very strong aphrodisiac to orcs and half-
  orcs, who might be moved to accost beings they 
  would otherwise shun. The cost per flask is 12 gp.
  Rope, Chain, and Wire
  From leather thongs, to thigh-thick mooring 
  cables, to man-sized links of chain, to fine wire 
  sharp enough to cut flesh, “coiled goods” are 
  among the most useful and expensive everyday 
  items in the Realms.
   
  Everyone needs long, flexible lines of some 
  sort. Sailors need rigged sails in order to voyage. 
  Cooks need chains to hold pots over hearth fires. 
  Caravan merchants need something to bind their 
  precious loads in place. And miners and other 
  climbers, such as adventurers, need something to 
  aid them in ascending and descending.
   
  Hempen ropes and fire-hardened jungle vines 
  have seen such use for untold centuries, and chain 
  has been known since the first dwarves, but the 
  making of truly fine wire is still being perfected 
  in the Realms as of 1350 DR, and that is a pro-
  cess fated to continue for more than two centuries 
  thereafter. In the mid-1300s DR, cable (ropes 
  woven around a continuous wire core) is still un-
  known, though the word “cable” is heard betimes, 
  meaning a massive rope respected for its strength. 
  Much wire is soft, brittle (and so easily snapped 
  or severed where it has been kinked or bent more 
  than once in the same spot), and thick.
   
  Gnomes, and right behind them dwarves, 
  are the most skilled crafters of fine wire and 
  chain—and humans just can’t get enough of the 
  stuff. Throughout the 1200s DR, the use of fine 
  chain in jewelry and garment adornment blos-
  somed, increasing the demand for fine and even 
  finer chain. The most popular variety of fine rope 
  among humans is the thin, strong, flexible waxed 
  cord of the sort preferred by thieves everywhere.
   
  Blacksmiths who lack the skills or the right 
  metal to make wire or fine chain know the value 
  of making and keeping in stock sturdy hooks, 
  open links, wall-rings, “strap-rings,” and other 
  fasteners. Strap-rings are collars that go around 
  pipes, posts, or columns and are affixed to rings 
  that connect to a chain or rope. Such under-
  stress fastenings break frequently, and someone 
  desperate to buy a swift replacement knocks on a 
  smithy’s door about as often.
   
  Like food and fuel, coiled goods bring steady, 
  high-coin sales. Every “manygoods” merchant 
  tries to keep some coiled goods on hand, often 
  keeping them in the strongchest that serves as 
  his trading seat. (If he’s sitting on it, it’s diffi-
  cult for someone to sneak away with it without 
  him noticing.) Along with their stores of coiled 
  goods, manygoods merchants keep a forge-chisel 
  and two pairs of pliers for “doing off” lengths for 
  customers. Coiled goods are always bought by 
  length, with long, unbroken pieces commanding 
  the highest prices, because no one wants to climb 
  down a mine shaft on a line made of short hunks 
  of rope knotted together.
  Salt
  The salt trade is very important in the Realms, 
  but not quite as vital as it has been in the real 
  world for two reasons. One, there are other means 
  of preservation, which was salt’s primary impor-
  tance in the real world; and two, salt has never 
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  129
  WAYNE ENGLAND
  been as scarce in the Realms as it was in large 
  areas of the real world. In Faerûn you can always 
  get some salt fairly cheaply from a nearby source, 
  so shipping sacks of it is not usually important.
   
  So exactly where does all this handy salt come 
  from? It can be obtained in one of the many salt 
  marshes of the Realms by ladling salty water out 
  on large, flat, sun-baked rocks and waiting until 
  the water evaporates. A few of the better known 
  salt marshes include the Flooded Forest between 
  the Moonsea and the Dragon Reach, the Adder 
  Swamp in Chessenta, the Spider Swamp, and 
  Rethild (the Great Swamp). Salt also washes up 
  and deposits naturally around certain shores, 
  such as the Lake of Steam and around Azulduth, 
  the Lake of Salt. Huge salt plains also exist in An-
  auroch and Raurin, the remnants of once-large 
  bodies of water that have become dry land.
   
  Salt mines operate in Chult, Calimshan, under 
  certain islands in the Korinn Archipelago and 
  north of Mintarn, in the mountains girdling 
  Amn, in the Orsraun Mountains, and other 
  places. The point is: Salt is plentiful.
   
  Many gnome families make a good living min-
  ing small salt deposits and trundling the results to 
  the nearest human town or village market, so you 
  won’t find a “Salt Road” or salt caravans, though 
  you will often find a salt wagon in a mixed-goods 
  caravan.
  Children’s Toys
  The most desirable toys by far are small, whittled 
  wooden warriors, wizards, dragons, and other 
  monsters. Also well-loved are large, whittled 
  wooden dolls, often princes and princesses, 
  dressed in clothes sewn from scraps of old rag. 
  Next come marbles made of rounded stones, 
  whittled-down nuts, frozen berries in winter, and 
  sometimes blown glass. Finally, carved wooden 
  toy swords and, in rural areas, slingshots are fairly 
  popular.
   
  A bit more pricey are the cuddle-in-bed toys 
  known as hearth faeries—intricately sewn, stuffed 
  with scented herbs and ward-away-sickness 
  charms. These keepsakes are often retained into 
  The job of protecting a caravan doesn’t end when the procession pulls into town. In the storm of activity that accompanies its arrival and 
  the unloading of its cargo, even the most vigilant guard can’t have his eyes everywhere at once.
  
  Chapter 4
  130
  adulthood and used as pillows. Also popular are 
  cast metal “little warriors” (model soldiers) and 
  dragons and other monster figurines that are 
  large, well painted, cast from metal, and pose-
  able (with articulated joints). Then there are large 
  knight-and-horse figurines even more realistically 
  modeled and painted, with real hair and such.
   
  Temples of Gond sell very expensive little 
  clockwork toys, such as revolving-egg jewel boxes 
  that play tunes. The “egg” of one of these jewel 
  boxes is an upright, ovoid sculpture that has 
  several layers that rotate within each other by 
  clockwork, revealing elaborately detailed etched 
  and painted scenes inside. Common scenes for 
  egg jewel boxes include feasts in castles, men 
  fighting each other with swords, and skeletons 
  escaping manacles in a dungeon. The temples of 
  Gond also sell expensive “marching warriors” 
  (the familiar “walking soldier with windup key 
  in his back”). In some large cities, a few crafters 
  make large stuffed lions, cute dragons, and other 
  shapes that children can use as pillows, sleeping 
  bags, play-steeds, and friends.
  SLAVE TRADE
  Everyone knows about Thay, and (to quote the 
  sea captain Bhrond Thaerin, master of the Red 
  Bird, out of Urmlaspyr) its “teeming slaves, live 
  ones and more and more undead ones.” Yet a 
  greater concern to rulers and law keepers—and 
  if they know the true danger in their midst, gen-
  eral citizens, too—are the more covert dealers in 
  slaves who operate in lands and city-states outside 
  Thay. At the same time, some rulers aren’t above 
  turning a blind eye to local slavers who provide a 
  handy means of making rivals or “problem citi-
  zens” . . . disappear.
   
  Waterdeep provides a horrible example of a 
  long-successful family of slavers: the House of 
  Sultlue. This is the most depraved and villain-
  ous surviving, still titled, and still in power noble 
  family in the City of Splendors, and demonstrate 
  how deep into decadence nobles can go, if they’re 
  wealthy and discreet enough.
   
  Long ago (and, secretly, still!), the House of 
  Sultlue was among the largest Waterdhavian 
  slavers. The Sultlues regularly dabble in canni-
  balism, eating cooked slaves prepared in various 
  ways, and delighting in serving cuts of roast 
  slave to unwitting dinner guests, such as other 
  nobles and the Lords of the city. They also regu-
  larly magically transform slaves into all manner 
  of beasts and different humanoids, including 
  beasts of burden that they use or sell, food and 
  breeding stock animals that they sell, and body 
  doubles of hated rivals or lusted-after persons 
  that they torture. They also use slaves as objects 
  of fun and for spare parts for their own aging or 
  wounded bodies.
   
  The Sultlues experiment with drugs, poisons, 
  and scents on slaves so as to refine ever-stronger 
  concoctions for sale up and down the Sword 
  Coast. Through intermediaries (often hired 
  adventurers who are misled as to who they’re 
  working for), they sell body-double slaves to those 
  who want to frame particular persons for crimes 
  or accomplish kidnappings without getting caught 
  by substituting the slave for the snatched person. 
  They have also recently dabbled in sending to foes 
  slaves that they can magically cause to explode 
  from afar—and in the blast emit deadly bags of 
  nails that have been sewn into the slaves’ bodies.
   
  In short, the Sultlues are thoroughly depraved, 
  consider themselves above all laws, and take great 
  care to amass magic items, hired wizards, and 
  caged monsters so that they can make a fighting 
  escape if the Lords’ justice ever comes for them.
   
  The most energetic of these darkhearts are 
  the elder Sultlue uncles Darrambur and Pelmaer, 
  and their sultry sister Jaszmaeril. Other family 
  members—including the patriarch Asbrior, his 
  wife Pera, and their young daughter, Taszeana, 
  and two of their five sons—are largely ignorant 
  of the activities of their kin. These “innocents” 
  also consider themselves above all laws, but know 
  they shouldn’t get caught in lawbreaking, and 
  are themselves guilty only of small cruelties and 
  swindles, and the keeping of personal slaves. 
  They know that some of their kin are up to “wild-
  nesses” and “shady little pursuits,” and they take 
  elaborate care never to find out much about such 
  matters—which suits the darkhearts just fine.
  
  MONEY MATTERS
  131
  The Realms began as a “known world” of the Sword Coast, the Savage Frontier, and Cormyr and the Dales. Other areas were mapped, 
  because adventurers could buy or peek at some very good merchant costers’ and rulers’ maps, but they mostly knew about them through 
  “merchants from X look like this, dress like that, speak and act thus-and-so, sell these, and buy those.” At first, Rashemen was one such 
  “exotic faraway place.” And then my characters started to travel.
  
  132
  Almost all beings in Faerûn worship many gods; 
  as a rule, only zealots and clergy venerate just one 
  deity. In other words, a farmer could mainly re-
  vere Chauntea, but also pray to appease Talos to 
  keep crop-damaging storms away, Malar to keep 
  beasts from attacking him or his folk in the fields 
  and to send vermin elsewhere, Talona to keep dis-
  ease and blight at bay, and so on.
   
  Any mortal of any race can worship any deity. 
  Of course, a would-be worshiper’s upbringing 
  and moral or ethical stance make some match-
  ups of faith and individual highly unlikely. The 
  most unusual ones are usually the result of an 
  individual searching for the right calling, or as-
  cribing the outcome of an important life event to 
  the influence or direct action of a particular deity. 
  That phenomenon extends to divine casters, too, 
  though some priesthoods don’t welcome unusual 
  races, such as drow or illithids, as clergy.
   
  The average Faerûnian lives long enough to 
  worship (or serve through one’s actions) one deity 
  above all others—though in many cases, which 
  deity a given person has served most might not be 
  clear to a dying mortal or anyone else. If a mor-
  tal dies before finishing a mission or a task for a 
  particular deity and it’s a matter he felt strongly 
  BETH TROTT
  5
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  133
  about in life, he could be sent back by that deity, 
  reborn as another mortal, to try to complete 
  that task. Otherwise, he ends up in the afterlife 
  serving the deity most appropriate to his moral 
  and ethical outlook. Only those who repudiate 
  the gods (or who as a result of their actions are 
  renounced by their gods), despoil altars and frus-
  trate the clerical aims of any deity, or never pray 
  or engage in any form of deliberate worship will 
  qualify as either Faithless or False.
   
  A few deities, Cyric being one, are insane 
  enough not to recognize and accept the polytheis-
  tic “appease this deity and that, as life situations 
  and strivings demand” model. These mad few 
  demand that their faithful worship them and only 
  them. Almost all other deities accept and engage 
  in competition for worshipers, though most mor-
  tals can’t begin to perceive and understand the 
  intricate, long games of divine machinations, and 
  might well misinterpret what little they see. For 
  almost all mortals, religion is a matter of embrac-
  ing primary worship of one deity above—even if 
  only slightly above—all others.
  HOW FOLK WORSHIP
  Most people in the Realms embrace a patron (pri-
  mary) deity, and carry a token, a holy symbol, or 
  a remembrance of that primary god. Adventurers 
  usually pray briefly to this deity in the morning, 
  when they aren’t under attack or in some emer-
  gency, as well as at moments of crisis, such as 
  healing a wounded friend or trying to keep a sick 
  or poisoned person alive. They offer lengthier 
  private prayers following evening meals or upon 
  retiring to slumber. Such prayers are usually re-
  quests for protection and direction, and deities 
  or their servitors often reply with guidance in 
  the form of dream visions, or more rarely in sud-
  den mental visions received while awake. Each of 
  these visions is usually a snapshot seen only by 
  the worshiper, and it usually comes tinged with a 
  feeling of favor or disapproval.
   
  Rarely, a divine response to a worshiper comes 
  as a sign visible to everyone present. Lathander, 
  for example, might manifest as a rosy glow 
  around a weapon, a person, a keyhole, or a secret 
  door. Lurue might send an image of a unicorn 
  that guides by movement or by touching persons 
  or things before glowing blue-white and fading,  
  to make its divine nature clear.
   
  Upon arriving in a town or village that has 
  a formal shrine or temple to one’s patron deity, 
  most Realms folk attend a service and give an 
  offering. The offering is customarily coin, but 
  sometimes food or trophies from fallen foes, or 
  something appropriate to the deity. For Malar, 
  hunted game makes a good offering, and for Tem-
  pus, the weapons of defeated foes are favored 
  gifts. Empty-handed worshipers usually offer in-
  formation about their deeds and observations to 
  priests—but paltry or verbal-only offerings often 
  result in a request from the clergy to do a service. 
  This service can be something as simple as “Help 
  move this temple furniture” or “Confess in full to 
  the superior priest tomorrow” or “Help guard the 
  temple doors tonight.”
   
  A traveler who comes across an untended or 
  desecrated shrine of one’s patron deity is expected 
  to cleanse it and pray there using one of the more 
  elaborate prayers of that faith, usually involving a 
  chanted or sung ritual. Wayfarers who encounter 
  holy hermits or traveling priests of their patron 
  deity are expected to share food and drink with 
  those personages, and offer to encamp with the 
  priest and provide any protection they can render.
   
  Those residing in a locale that has a temple usu-
  ally attend services at least once every two days. 
  Priests of many faiths do a lot of “influencing the 
  laity” work by dispensing news and gossip slanted to 
  promote the importance of their god as well as the 
  creed and the aims of the faith. At the end of formal 
  services, sometimes while blessing departing wor-
  shipers, priests also try to motivate the laity to do 
  certain things that further the work of their god.
   
  Every settlement in the Realms has private 
  family chapels as well as public shrines to most 
  deities, even if it lacks a temple. So, the lack of a 
  temple to a particular deity in a community does 
  not mean that deity is not venerated locally. Tem-
  ples, in contrast, are permanent buildings staffed 
  by live-in clergy, each dedicated to one deity. 
   
  Folk in the Realms also pray and make of-
  ferings to deities other than their primary one. 
  They often make these offers in the hope of ap-
  peasement, such as “We’ve got to cross the Neck 
  in a boat, so Umberlee, please don’t sink us, and 
  Talos, send no storms . . .”
   
  It is not acceptable to treat any gods disrespect-
  fully. Their worshipers and clergy can be resisted, 
  
  Chapter 5
  134
  yes, and sometimes, for followers of good-aligned 
  deities opposed to human sacrifice, their altars 
  can be shattered, too. However, the gods them-
  selves are known to be very real, so while you are 
  thwarting their mortal servants, it’s always best 
  to not personally defame the god. Mocking their 
  holy sayings is about as far as most folk dare go. 
  For example, a man slaying a Stormsender (priest 
  of Talos) in battle might snarl, “Send a storm—
  now reap a storm!”
   
  Only clergy, paladins, and fanatics specialize 
  in the worship of certain deities. Everyone else in 
  the Realms is constantly poised between the gods, 
  making offerings, participating in rituals, and 
  seeking guidance as they see fit from among all of 
  the gods, as the situations and necessities of their 
  personal lives suggest is most appropriate.
  Becoming a Priest
  Usually an individual desiring to become a priest 
  has received vivid dream visions from various di-
  vine servants. If that person responds to some of 
  these visions in the right ways, by desiring to see 
  more and asking local clergy or deity-tied  persons 
  such as temple guards, paladins, and hermits 
  about the visions or about a particular deity, more 
  are sent.
   
  If the individual chooses to respond, he or she is 
  on the road to becoming a priest. Since those who 
  are not brightly loyal to a deity make poor clergy, 
  no one is forced into worship or holy service.
   
  Stepping forward on that road often takes the 
  form of contacting a temple or a passing preacher, 
  or undertaking a vigil at a known holy site to re-
  ceive more guidance. Someone who meditates at 
  such a holy site might receive more vivid dreams 
  or even a manifestation or a visible sign, such as 
  Lathander’s holy glow coming briefly into ex-
  istence around the person’s head and upon the 
  altar, holy stone, marker, or site. Each faith—and 
  in some cases, each temple—has its own way of 
  taking in supplicants, should the character at that 
  point reach out to the organized church.
   
  It is possible for a priest to serve more than one 
  deity, but it’s not easy, and so is rare, even among 
  adventurers. Both the personal nature of wor-
  ship and devotion and the rarity of close sharing 
  among deities work against such double-dealing. 
  If a character does attempt to serve two masters, 
  the opportunity arises for extensive roleplaying, 
  with ongoing moral dilemmas, god-sent tests, and 
  the occasional tug of war between the two deities 
  over the deeds and loyalties of the character.
  WHY PUT UP WITH 
  EVIL?
  Good-minded individuals among the common 
  folk usually tolerate evil clergy and their deeds 
  and practices because they must. The servants of 
  evil are personally strong, vicious, or well-con-
  nected enough that they are tolerated, avoided, or 
  appeased rather than attacked.
   
  Governments, taking a wider view, put up with 
  evil faiths because hostility won’t get rid of them, 
  and because they can be useful.
   
  If, for example, the church of Malar in Cor-
  myr is permitted to breed monsters or hunt beasts 
  only in specific border areas, the Malarites can by 
  their very presence serve as obstacles to would-be 
  raiders from the Stonelands, Archendale, or Tun-
  land. The presence of such a church would also 
  discourage Sembians from conducting smuggling, 
  livestock rustling, and suchlike along the Thun-
  der Peaks, and cut down on brigands operating 
  across the borders. Genuine marauding monster 
  populations might also be kept in check by the 
  church of Malar. So, the Crown of Cormyr han-
  dles the church of Malar in this way. War Wizards 
  often covertly mind-scry Malarite priests to see 
  what they have observed in the wilderlands and 
  to uncover evidence (if any) of their working with 
  foes of the realm for coin or other inducements.
   
  In Cormyr, Malarite priests most often breed 
  monsters for temple butchery in rituals, to sell 
  trophy heads and other body parts, and for the 
  feast tables of the wealthy. The latter two uses are 
  major sources of temple revenue. Malarites also 
  breed monsters for temple guardian roles, deploy-
  ing them in areas where they can’t get out to roam 
  greater Cormyr, confined to temple property.
   
  Malarite monsters are also popular among 
  nobles as quarries for the hunt. Such beasts are 
  released by Malarites in specific locations at 
  reported-to-the-Crown-beforehand times, for no-
  bles to track down and slay. The Malarites must 
  stand watch to down the beasts if they get away, 
  and the Crown of Cormyr holds the Malarites 
  responsible for any monster-caused deaths to per-
  sons not of the hunting party. The War Wizards 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  135
   
  In Sembia, for example, clergy of all faiths that 
  are seeking to achieve something most quickly 
  get what they want through bribery or otherwise 
  “playing the mercantile game.” Whereas in Cor-
  myr, the best way to get ahead is either by covert 
  cooperation with noble families or ambitious mer-
  chants, or by quietly reaching explicit deals with 
  the Crown and then strictly adhering to them. 
  “Deals with the Crown” really means with Van-
  gerdahast from 1306 DR to 1371 DR and with 
  Alusair thereafter until 1384 DR. In other words, 
  very carefully following the often unofficial rules 
  set down by the authorities and in return being 
  allowed to do certain things while the authorities 
  turn a blind eye.
   
  Coming to the aid of Crown agents, sometimes 
  militarily, when a certain summons or alarm 
  is raised is a promise that both the churches of 
  Loviatar and Malar have made to the War Wiz-
  ards. Priests of Loviatar help maintain law and 
  order—and apprehend certain specific individu-
  als, when asked—in Marsember, Arabel, and 
  Suzail, and the church of Malar does the same in 
  rural areas. In return, the Malarites are permitted 
  to hunt certain miscreants, some of the royal deer, 
  specific monsters, and specific sorts of beasts—
  an activity to which they can invite nobles, the 
  wealthy, and others they hope to convert if they 
  so desire. The church of Loviatar, on the other 
  hand, has earned the right to carry on some of its 
  more enticing rituals for nonmembers in certain 
  clubs and other establishments in hopes of gain-
  ing offerings or converts.
   
  No evil church can expect to incite people 
  against the Crown or any law, or publicly practice 
  rituals that scare or harm people or defy the au-
  thorities, and continue to be tolerated in the land. 
  The “heavy stuff” goes on behind firmly closed 
  temple doors, and much secrecy and excitement is 
  thereby attached to it.
   
  In public, the clergy of evil deities are models 
  of good behavior. As such, although average citi-
  zens respect or fear and avoid said clergy, they will 
  almost always not attack, deride, or dispute with 
  them. Everyone in the Realms believes in all the 
  gods, and so understands and accepts the purpose 
  and major aims of every faith. This doesn’t mean 
  everyone necessarily agrees with or supports every 
  religion, but that they tolerate and understand the 
  place in society each faith occupies.
  also watch over all such beast releases, and it is 
  a serious crime to perform such a release with-
  out informing them well beforehand—a crime 
  proclaimed into law after the third instance of a 
  Malarite priest hired by one noble family “acci-
  dentally” unleashing monsters into the estate of a 
  rival noble family.
   
  All monster breedings must be reported in de-
  tail to the War Wizards to prevent two practices. 
  First, this requirement prevents the creation of 
  secret crossbreeds, such as chimera-like beasts 
  of which the Crown is unaware. Second, it pre-
  vents the establishment of secret-from-the-Crown 
  armies or packs of monsters, in either temple or 
  private hands.
   
  Violent and evil faiths such as those of Malar 
  and Loviatar get along with governments by wor-
  shiping largely behind closed doors and always 
  within agreed-upon limits. A Malarite in Cormyr 
  or any other well-ruled locale wouldn’t think of 
  trying to kidnap innocents, citizens, or govern-
  ment representatives to be part of a hunt. No evil 
  clergy anywhere in a well-ruled land or city would 
  dare to use drugs, blackmail, or other coercion to 
  gain converts or subjects for rituals. A masochist 
  can volunteer to be flogged by a priestess of Lovi-
  atar, but neither she nor any lay Loviatan can try 
  to gain any sort of hold over the person to force or 
  strongly influence one’s agreeing to be flogged.
   
  Like anyone else who conspires against the 
  Crown, traitor priests are subject to Crown jus-
  tice. Churches that openly defy important laws 
  (criminal, as opposed to minor civil matters), or 
  that openly work against the Crown by attack-
  ing or mistreating soldiers or Crown agents, are 
  harshly dealt with.
   
  Being holy confers no immunity, as opposed 
  faiths will happily speak out against the “miscre-
  ant clergy,” and the Crown can always claim to be 
  trying to be the impartial, secular central balance 
  between various faiths, for the good of all. Only 
  the loftiest holy rank or status wins any form of 
  absolution or light treatment from secular author-
  ities for major crimes—such as killing, torture, 
  treason and sedition, kidnapping, slavery, coer-
  cion of the unwilling by force or threats, fraud, 
  and theft.
   
  As a result, priesthoods tend to work against 
  governments only through means of subtle influ-
  ence—unless they can become the government (at 
  least locally).
  
  Chapter 5
  136
   
  Likewise, this does not mean every devout wor-
  shiper in a faith sees eye to eye with every cleric; 
  indeed, many faiths have bitter internal fights, 
  schisms, and ongoing debates, and many high 
  priests are watched very closely by lay worshipers 
  trying to decide which temple to obey the most, 
  and gift with the most, and which to treat with by 
  doing the bare minimum their beliefs require.
   
  Priests who perform willful murder in public 
  or otherwise “charge into unlawful behavior” in 
  a well-governed realm like Cormyr suffer conse-
  quences. Depending on the severity of the crime, 
  they’ll wind up dead (killed by the Crown or oth-
  ers), delivered to the Crown for secular justice, 
  or cast out of the church to appease the authori-
  ties. More often than the general public would 
  be pleased to know, such miscreants are hustled 
  covertly out of Cormyr to postings elsewhere by 
  fellow clergy, who then tell the authorities that 
  “internal punishments as directed by the Divine 
  One have been enacted upon the wayward.” For 
  more minor crimes, wayward clergy might pub-
  licly repent, and their church make redress to the 
  Crown and wronged citizens.
   
  There have been incidents when a priest who 
  persists in covert self-serving dealings that give 
  his or her church a bad name is caught by Crown 
  agents or hired adventurers because other mem-
  bers of the church have tipped off the authorities 
  as to when and where to catch the offender. Such 
  tips usually end up in the priest being caught red-
  handed and therefore deserving of on-the-spot 
  justice, particularly if he or she decides to fight.
   
  Clergy of faiths that work against law and 
  order, such as those of Shar and Talos, thrive in 
  socially chaotic areas like Westgate and Sembia, 
  where they can play one group or employer off 
  against another. However, these priests keep a 
  much lower profile in well-policed lands such as 
  Cormyr—where they tend to operate a service 
  wherein you can “pay and take part in this en-
  ticing ritual, and the deity will attempt to make 
  your desire real, over time, in some nonspecific 
  manner.” Most of the time, these clergy prey 
  upon worshipers more than they really achieve 
  anything. At least this way, they reason, they 
  can maintain a presence in the land and wait for 
  events to make their faith more important or at-
  tractive to factions in the realm. Only then would 
  they dare any open defiance of the authorities.
   
  The priests of Talos in Cormyr, for instance, 
  work magic (in their locked temple rooms) only 
  to add strength and destructive force to natu-
  ral storms that are hammering areas of Cormyr. 
  They never cause such storms or steer the paths 
  storms take, because they know the War Wizards 
  watch for that. However, if a storm should cause 
  harm to a War Wizard, how is that their fault? 
  (They ask this oh so innocently, after helping a 
  storm to collapse a cottage on a wizard’s head.)
   
  Priests and priestesses of Shar, Loviatar, and 
  Sharess often use amorous wiles to establish per-
  sonal relationships with persons in authority. 
  Through this angle, they try to sow chaos by sug-
  gesting particular deeds, decrees, and ideas to 
  their lovers.
   
  Even priests of the most violently evil faiths 
  are seldom foolish enough to draw daggers and 
  seek to carve up soldiers or Crown agents in the 
  streets. A dead foe is just that: dead, and soon to 
  be replaced by another. An influenced foe, on the 
  other hand, is well on the way to becoming an 
  ally, increasing the sway of the deity.
  CHARITY
  Almost all rural temples and monasteries provide 
  basic food and water for handfuls of “half-wits,” 
  the disabled, orphans, lepers and other disease-
  sufferers, the destitute, and in some cases, even 
  outlaws claiming sanctuary, or lycanthropes. In 
  return, these people offer basic labor, such as 
  splitting and stacking firewood; shoveling and 
  transporting dung; watering and tending crops; 
  peeling potatoes and other crops for kitchen cook-
  ing; and picking fruits, vegetables, and herbs.
   
  As a general rule, the sick are to be tended 
  without question or hesitation. In practice, hesi-
  tation occurs if “the sick” brought to the temple 
  are monsters, appear to be under the influence 
  of dangerous or multiple enchantments, or are 
  clearly the clergy of another god. Those of this 
  last variety are rushed to the proper temple, if one 
  is available.
   
  Treatment of adventurers, the displaced, and 
  those who have fled battle or been left behind 
  for being wounded in battle largely depends 
  on existing local attitudes. (“These’re some of 
  the dwarves who’ve raided us for years? Well, 
  kill them!”) It can also be affected by what has 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  137
  happened recently. For example, has the com-
  munity been overwhelmed by refugees? Have 
  other adventurers marauded locally in the past? 
  If residents don’t try to dispatch such “problems” 
  outright, or direct them to areas of danger where 
  a known monster will eliminate them (or they 
  will dispose of it, making them therefore worthy 
  of aid), the locals either provide charity (“You 
  can shelter in my barn, and here’s some stew and 
  water and bread; please be gone in the morning”) 
  or bring local priests to examine them and decide 
  if the church will offer aid.
  TEMPLE INCOME
  Most folk in the Realms know that priests of some 
  faiths (such as Waukeen’s) sell pardons and medi-
  cines, and demand offerings or sometimes set fees 
  for performing certain rituals, such as cleansings, 
  weddings, and atonements.
   
  The income of a temple is usually far broader 
  in source and nature than that. Offerings of food, 
  accepted from poor worshipers, go to temple 
  kitchens to defray food expenses. Almost all cler-
  gies expect offerings in return for the utterance of 
  certain prayers and certainly in return for spell-
  casting. Most clergy also expect compensation 
  for most services, such as burials, consecrations, 
  blessings of new businesses, or the god’s favor for 
  a journey. Almost anything that requires prayer 
  before the altar is also cause for an offering—as 
  opposed to advice given by priests without the 
  guidance of prayer or ritual, which by tradition is 
  supposed to be freely given.
   
  Faiths of fierce deities such as Umberlee and 
  Talona deal in protection rackets (in effect) by 
  demanding offerings of appeasement to keep the 
  holy wrath of their deity away from those making 
  the offerings. Even wandering clergy of gentler 
  faiths (such as the Alicorna, priests of Lurue) 
  might request payment from landowners when 
  they eliminate dangerous local monsters.
   
  Some priests sell holy relics and their lesser 
  cousins. “Favors of the god” are blessed items 
  meant to bring good luck to the bearer or house-
  hold, and “tokens of the god” are holy symbols of 
  recognition and veneration for lay worshipers (not 
  to be confused with a cleric’s holy symbol).
   
  The largest source of daily income for most 
  churches is payment for the delivery of verbal or 
  written messages, documents, and small valuables 
  over vast distances, from one individual to an-
  other. All such deliveries are “altar-sworn” safe. 
  The priests swear before their deity to deliver 
  their charge faithfully, without altering or distort-
  ing it, pilfering from it, or violating its privacy 
  if possible. Obviously, the contents of a verbal 
  message are known to the bearer, but a writ-
  ten message will not be unsealed or read by any 
  member of the priesthood, nor will anyone allow 
  a third party to read it. This oath is sworn upon 
  pain of losing the favor of the deity—that is, being 
  expelled from the church.
   
  This widely available service has given rise to 
  an interesting dodge: Someone in possession of 
  something that could get her killed, such as stolen 
  royal regalia, might in desperation deliver it into 
  the hands of temple priests with a fee for deliver-
  ing it to either a fictitious person or one whom the 
  sender, but few others, knows to be dead. This 
  enables the priests to keep and conceal the item 
  forever as they attempt to deliver it to the proper 
  person . . . whom they will never be able to find.
   
  Many temples serve as banks and keepsafes 
  (safe deposits), securely storing all manner of 
  things for worshipers, from legal documents to 
  great-grandma’s mummified fingers. Temple 
  storage is especially popular with the homeless; 
  poor commoners who fear for the security of their 
  property while they’re working or seeking food; 
  and those who travel for a living, such as drovers, 
  caravan guards, and wagon merchants.
   
  Temples also perform the same moneylending 
  and money changing functions as our real-world 
  banks, and of course charge fees for doing so. 
  Like real-world banks, they invest such funds 
  (and the money they earn from offerings and 
  rents) in livestock and farm crops and cargo ships 
  and businesses, charging interest on every loan. 
  So, most urban and “verdant breadbasket rural” 
  temples are usually wealthy, not poor.
   
  Almost all priesthoods use their income to buy 
  land, build properties, and become landlords, 
  taking in a constant stream of rents from tenants, 
  tenant farmers, and “rental” farmers. They also 
  acquire houses, farms, and sometimes even cara-
  van companies or shipping fleets, willed to them 
  by the devout. In this way, many temples have 
  slowly become the owners of large amounts of 
  valuable city real estate. It’s generally understood 
  that being a landlord does not allow the clergy to 
  
  Chapter 5
  138
  discriminate against tenants who primarily ven-
  erate rival deities, or to curtail prayers and other 
  religious observances of other deities performed 
  in rental premises that a temple happens to own.
   
  Certain priesthoods, particularly those of Mask 
  and Waukeen, often engineer price increases and 
  currency inflations, and profit by loading or un-
  loading their stores of coinage or goods at times 
  of high margins. Clergy of Siamorphe work to en-
  rich nobles who have pledged much to the church, 
  “when we can afford it.” Priests of Mask sell dis-
  guises, and for much higher fees can hide people 
  for short periods.
   
  Some faiths pay children copper pieces in re-
  turn for business or political information that 
  such “innocents” see and overhear, which temple 
  agents then resell for much, much more, saying 
  only of their sources that “The god sees all.”
  PRIESTHOODS  
  OF THE REALMS
  Even more so than rulers, the priesthoods of the 
  Realms influence the daily lives of folk every-
  where. If there were only a few churches, clergy 
  would be absolute rulers. However, Faerûn has so 
  many deities—all of them believed in by everyone, 
  albeit in different ways—that their competing ef-
  forts offset, block, or deflect each other, as well as 
  blunt the tyranny of kings, and everyone else lives 
  in “the breathing space between.”
   
  Many common folk are unaware of all the of-
  ficial, overt aims of every deity. One might know 
  what is demanded personally of a deity’s indi-
  vidual worshipers, and still not know the formal 
  creed of a church. People of common birth are 
  unlikely to know any unofficial aims of the priest-
  hoods, which are often geopolitical, selfish, and 
  secret.
   
  Unless they become adventurers, and get 
  caught in the “sharp points” where competing 
  aims and strivings meet . . .
   
  Published Realmslore details divine avatars 
  and gives some details of their faiths and mortal 
  followers. It would take many more books to give 
  proper coverage to the prayers and rituals of the 
  Faerûnian faiths, so here instead are some details 
  of what each clergy professes to do and some hints 
  of the more worldly efforts of their mortal leaders. 
  This covers the creed of each church, which is 
  largely but not wholly the same as the dogma that 
  applies to all worshipers. Remember, the Realms 
  is a fantastic setting; none of these creeds are to 
  be taken literally or applied in the real world.
  Auril, the Frostmaiden
   
  Creed: Make all Faerûn embrace the cold and 
  work to chill the Realms by means of weather 
  magic to hasten the rightful and inevitable “Icing 
  of All.” Willingly adapt yourself and society to 
  increasingly colder conditions, as ice, snow, and 
  frigid winds spread to cover the entire world.
   
  Everyone should shiver—from cold, not fear—
  at least once a day. In the cold times, strive to 
  nightly force or persuade someone not of the Em-
  bracers (from “Willing Embracers of the Cold;” 
  Aurilian clergy) to undertake the Cold Cleans-
  ing prayer—beseeching Auril’s mercy outdoors, 
  aloud, for as long as it takes a piece of ice the size 
  of the praying one’s hand to melt entirely against 
  his or her bared flesh. At least once per winter 
  season—and more often is better—personally slay 
  at least one creature either with cold magic or by 
  forcing it to die of natural cold. It is best if any 
  such death benefits others not of the Embracers 
  by providing food or eliminating an oppressor to 
  the greater glory of Auril.
   
  Secular Aims: Rise to dominate and control 
  all surface Realms overland roads and trade-trails 
  in snowbound regions. Once control is secured, 
  demand reverence to Auril for passage, both in 
  prayers and monetary offerings. You may keep 
  the offerings so long as the customary “scatter-
  ings in Auril’s name” are made.
   
  Wherever there are no roads and winter way-
  farers must blaze their own trails, create new 
  trails. It is both permissible and pleasing to Auril 
  to magically force both beasts and intelligent be-
  ings of the Realms to aid in this endeavor. When 
  the spells given you by the goddess make it pos-
  sible, create ice roads across lakes to shorten 
  journeys, and be sure it is made known that this 
  is done in the name of Auril, who should be 
  thanked and reverenced.
    Aurilian clergy make no secret of their road 
  building—or their demands for tolls from users of 
  these holy roads—though they will avoid admit-
  ting that they’ve been directed to try to control all 
  surface routes. Aurilian clergy are mainly lightly 
  organized wanderers who keep any offerings they 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  139
  I never like to miss an opportunity to deepen Realmslore by adding lore and recent news about any element—in this case, fang dragons, one 
  of several dragons I’ve created as lower-level, deployable “fight-’em” dragons that can duke it out with most adventurers without reducing 
  the characters to ashes, or the DM having to play a stupid or asleep dragon to allow the heroes to survive—and at the same time introduce 
  new NPCs with strong opinions, and dredge up neat-sounding words like “infandous.” Let language be thy sharp and ready weapon. 
  
  Chapter 5
  140
  receive for themselves after they “render unto 
  Auril” with snow-scatterings and castings of some 
  coins into river ice. However, recurring attempts 
  are made by senior Aurilian clerics to force dis-
  cipline and a patrolled hierarchy upon the rest of 
  the Embracers.
   
  The most notorious of these organizers was 
  Raerele “Redtresses” Aronthan, a now-dead 
  priestess who styled herself High Icemaiden. She 
  so dominated some forty Aurilian clergy that they 
  carved a slender-spired castle for her out of solid 
  ice in the glaciers northeast of Citadel Adbar in 
  the 1340s DR. Ever since, this castle known as 
  Frostspire has been the secret heart of the church, 
  the place its most wayward clergy are summoned 
  to be judged by their fellow Embracers. Aronthan 
  tried to bring every last Aurilian to Frostspire, to 
  obtain oaths of obedience from each one and to 
  “set them in their places” in the church hierarchy, 
  but many defied her, and one finally slew her in 
  1352 DR—and received no rebuke from the god-
  dess at all.
   
  No one has managed to rise to Aronthan’s level 
  of dominance since, in part because the priest-
  ess is said to haunt Frostspire in the form of an 
  embittered and chastened spirit controlled by 
  Auril herself. At present, two rival male Auril-
  ians, Faerovel Hawntar of Glister and Amgrel 
  Vlorund of Fireshear, are trying to command all 
  Embracers by traveling and coercing each one 
  they meet, individually. Hawntar’s aims—beyond 
  power—are as yet unstated, but Vlorund has no 
  less a goal than conquering one or more coldland 
  realms, starting with Vaasa and Damara, and 
  certainly continuing to Impiltur and Narfell. He 
  wants to achieve this in the name of the faith, so 
  senior Embracers can rule those lands. He is plot-
  ting to corrupt key military commanders in Vaasa 
  and Damara to his cause, and will destroy them if 
  they refuse.
  Azuth, Lord of Spells
   
  Creed: The Art is a force for better lives and 
  better ruling, and should always be used for 
  such. Wielders of the Art should conduct them-
  selves in a manner that makes them valued and 
  respected so that acceptance—not mere toler-
  ance—of magic will spread and grow stronger. 
  Everyone’s life is bettered by magic, but can be 
  enriched and exalted so much more if the Art is 
  used responsibly. School the irresponsible, resist 
  and oppose those who habitually use the Art for 
  tyranny or coercion, and aid the clergy of Mystra 
  in their work wherever it is in accord with ours.
   
  Help arcane spellcasters who have spells wrong 
  or who struggle with their mastery. Curb, rather 
  than contribute to, wild magic. Discourage ir-
  responsible and reckless spellcasting. Locate and 
  identify those who can wield the Art; follow their 
  deeds and statements, and be aware of their aims. 
  Be alert for new ways in which arcane spellcasters 
  deceive or make war on their fellow wielders-of-
  Art. Craft a new spell every year, or modify an 
  existing one to produce new effects and uses. 
  Grow in the Art personally by constant study and 
  experimentation.
   
  Secular Aims: The Enlightened (clergy of 
  Azuth) who are only arcane spellcasters are to 
  pray to Azuth for guidance in tasks to be person-
  ally done by the god until he grants them access 
  to divine magic. Enlightened who are only priests 
  must do the same until granted access to arcane 
  spells by the god. This access might never come 
  to pass, but the striving to attain it must not stop.
   
  Traditionally, Azuth’s priests had no secret, 
  secular aims, beyond participating in all projects 
  that the church of Mystra was pursuing. In 1352 
  DR, however, the self-styled High Spellmaster of 
  Elturel, the wizard Emdrur Harvult—soon sup-
  ported by the Narthraumurge of Tashluta, the 
  wizard Leiyonar Braskrazra—began to preach 
  that it was time to make rulers everywhere in the 
  Realms friendly to arcane spellcasters. This was 
  to be accomplished either by becoming rulers (by 
  dethroning the incumbents) or by becoming the 
  power behind many thrones—a tactic Alustriel 
  dubbed the Vizier Gambit.
   
  Some clergy of Azuth are certainly hard at 
  work to usurp thrones or aid others in such at-
  tempts, but not all of them are in agreement with 
  the High Spellmaster’s insistence that they ac-
  cept his authority and maintain a strict hierarchy 
  of command within the church. The Narthrau-
  murge seems to have drifted from being Harvult’s 
  ally to becoming his rival, trying to establish his 
  own chain of command with himself at the top.
   
  The bulk of the Enlightened, whether they 
  agree with this bid for worldly power or not, cling 
  to independence. They serve the High One him-
  self, and are bidden by him to work with fellow 
  Enlightened, the more powerful outranking the 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  141
  lesser but all working as comrades, not in a hier-
  archy of formal ranks. The god has guided all to 
  follow their hearts in this matter.
   
  Behind all of this remains an older heresy, 
  known as Yauntarism after Ilmurk Yauntar, the 
  Enlightened. Yauntar vanished in 1347 DR and 
  his fate remains unknown, though some whisper 
  he took a dragon’s shape and lives as a dragon. 
  Yauntar took the view that priests of Azuth should 
  enrich themselves by their service, charging fees 
  to commoners and coercing funds from rulers so 
  Azuth would truly be respected. Elminster be-
  lieves as many as three in every ten Enlightened 
  are secret Yauntarists.
  Bane, the Black Hand
   
  Creed: The world is made stronger by mighty 
  and ordered rule, with the ruled made to fear 
  their rulers and to hate common foes. Weakness 
  and frivolity should be publicly destroyed for all 
  to see and heed. Good is but a shelter for weak-
  ness and the whims of those who profess noble 
  goals. Evil is the true state of nature, for winning 
  is everything, and oppression is natural. Fight 
  against good, and exalt evil. Tyrannize and de-
  stroy the weak, so that all in time become better 
  and stronger, everyone knowing their place and 
  not daring to question or foment disorder.
   
  Be a tyrant. Make others fear and hate you, 
  but awaken in them hatred of others. Aid tyrants 
  and oppressors, but if they disagree with you or 
  fellow Dark Hands (clergy of Bane) over policy, 
  or turn back from tyranny or oppressing others, 
  shatter them. We are the forge that tempers rul-
  ers, to make them ever harder, stronger, and more 
  evil. Laws and rules, not wanton chaos, should 
  reign. Eliminate lawbreakers. Kill or thwart a 
  good creature every day (kill is better). Bring 
  down arbitrary law keepers, and aid the brutally 
  law-abiding. Make others fear Bane—and fear 
  you—whenever possible.
   
  Secular Aims: Since the fall of the High 
  Imperceptor, the church of Bane has been domi-
  nated not by the coldly correct hierarchy of 
  obedience it had been known for, but by vicious 
  battles for dominance among clergy. Dark Hands 
  browbeat lesser Dark Hands and fawn over or are 
  carefully correct to superiors—as they seek ways 
  of betraying, thwarting, and bringing down those 
  superiors. As a result, it’s every Banite for himself, 
  and few personal secular aims—beyond climbing 
  in the church hierarchy at the expense of others—
  are achieved.
   
  In the lowest ranks of the clergy, personal 
  power is so meager that most such priests become 
  the near slaves of someone a few rungs higher up, 
  so as to rise with that person. As a result, priests 
  in the middling and upper middling ranks of the 
  Dark Hands can get some long-term aims accom-
  plished with the aid of these lackeys.
   
  Almost all Banites seek to establish control 
  over trade in a region that can be used for ty-
  rannical purposes, such as selling or smuggling 
  weapons or slaves. They then attempt to use the 
  proceeds from this effort to enrich the Church 
  and themselves, as well as to try to win themselves 
  land, wealth, and ever-increasing influence over 
  local rulers. Many become advisors to (or “dirty 
  work agents” for) nobles.
   
  Unholy Champion of Bane Ohlzrak Larandrar 
  is one of the few who has become a local noble 
  himself, and he is almost ready to make an open 
  bid for rulership of the city of Ormpur. Since al-
  most no one in the church of Bane is a fool, and 
  Banites employ or coerce many into spying for 
  them, fellow Dark Hands know perfectly well who 
  among them is rising in secular power, and where. 
  It’s rare for a Dark Hand to be allowed to rise as 
  high as Larandrar has. He is an exception because 
  he’s extremely ruthless and capable, foreseeing 
  most moves against him and preparing fatal traps 
  for opponents—and also because several powerful 
  senior Dark Hands are waiting for him to succeed 
  in his bid for leadership before they rush in to de-
  stroy and supplant him.
   
  Quiet confidence, and cold, clipped speech or 
  murmurs dripping with menace, is the preferred 
  style among most Banites. Swaggering, shouting 
  and ranting are for lesser clergy of lesser gods. 
  Note that within the Zhentarim, the clergy and 
  the wizards tend to loathe each other, and only 
  the beholders keep the groups from erupting 
  into open strife—a feat they accomplish by mak-
  ing examples of those individuals who lash out. 
  This hatred isn’t divinely dictated: In Darkhold 
  and other outposts, certain clerics and wizards 
  who must work together daily have become firm 
  friends and even companions.
  
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  142
  Garb of Bane’s Clergy
   
  In the Field: When going into battle, Banites 
  wear black cloaks with the red fist of Bane painted 
  on below and between the shoulder blades, and 
  a breastplate of the same colors and decorations 
  over black armor.
   
  Casual Dress: Dark clothing is preferred, but 
  Banites can wear anything so long as it includes 
  a fist of Bane. If concealment is absolutely nec-
  essary, the fist of Bane can be worn as a hidden 
  locket; otherwise, Banites should wear a black 
  sash tied at the hip, with a red fist of Bane design 
  clearly visible on it.
   
  In pre-Time of Troubles days, the fist of Bane 
  was a closed human right hand wearing a spiked 
  gauntlet with its fingers toward the viewer and 
  three drops of blood dropping from the horizon-
  tally severed wrist. After the Time of Troubles, 
  the fist changed into a bare hand with fire or 
  lightning bursting from between the fingers.
   
  In the Temple: Formal dress varies from tem-
  ple to temple. Poorer, rural temples can be pretty 
  casual, sticking to black cloaks at a minimum. At 
  the height of the most elaborate ceremonial cloth-
  ing, under the High Imperceptor’s rule, dress for 
  Banites was far more complicated. The temple’s 
  supreme priest dressed in all black; senior officers 
  in black with purple sashes; senior priests in black 
  with red sashes; upperpriests in black with fiery 
  orange sashes; and general clergy in black with 
  fist of Bane gorgets denoting rank. All of these 
  priests wore full, black cloaks, and generally, the 
  more fists on a priest’s gorget (usually from two to 
  seven), the higher one’s rank. Lower-level priests 
  and lay people were dressed slightly differently. 
  Newly accepted priests wore black tunics over 
  crimson breeches; novices wore crimson robes; 
  and lay brothers wore orange robes. All of these 
  lower-level priests and lay people were also al-
  lowed to wear black half-cloaks.
   
  All priests of Bane should carry at least two 
  consecrated holy symbols of Bane at all times: one 
  in a hollow boot heel, and one mounted on their 
  belts. Even when undressed, Banites should wear 
  at least one symbol, typically on a neck chain.
  Beshaba, Maid of Misfortune
   
  Creed: Lady Doom must be feared. Spread 
  fear of her daily in persons high and low. Neglect 
  not the low in birth and station, for ignoring them 
  is the flaw of lesser clergies who venerate arro-
  gantly blind gods, such as Bane. It is person by 
  person that the cause of the Maid of Misfortune 
  is won. Fear of her is just and prudent, for mis-
  fortune is inevitable. The so-called “good luck” 
  of Tymora is made of lies and bright glimmers of 
  false hope; Beshaba’s way is the way of the world. 
  In the end, Beshaba shall reign triumphant, and 
  will protect and preserve those who have spoken 
  for her and served her. Be among them, or perish.
   
  Trick people, spread mystery and worry by 
  what you say and do. Repeat true tales of misfor-
  tune befalling those who repudiated or neglected 
  their veneration of Lady Doom—and whenever 
  you are faced with such repudiation, punish the 
  repudiator in ways swift, dramatic, and public, so 
  as to spread fear among witnesses. Evoke pleading 
  or screams daily. Work what misfortunes you can 
  without falling afoul of local law or authorities—
  and spread chaos by thwarting or destroying law 
  keepers and government officials whenever pru-
  dently possible. Make them miserable by harming 
  or frightening their families, or by spreading 
  rumors about them, or by stealing or ruining 
  whatever they hold most dear. Be the reaching, 
  ravening talons of Beshaba!
   
  Secular Aims: The church of Lady Doom 
  has long taught its Doombringers to profit per-
  sonally, taking two coins from every ten gleaned 
  by the church, and to enrich the church when-
  ever opportunities arise to make, seize, or receive 
  wealth amid the chaos. Civil war is to be started 
  wherever possible. Since 1460 DR, Doombringers 
  have been concentrating on starting strife be-
  tween Sembia’s wealthy and poor, which they’ve 
  been doing in Amn since the spring of 1344 DR. 
  They’ve also been trying to stir nobles of Cormyr 
  who are unhappy with the Dragon Throne into 
  open rebellion since 1347 DR.
   
  Increasingly, down the years, Beshaba has 
  anointed this or that individual cleric as one of 
  her Favored. There is never just one Favored at 
  a time, and other Doombringers are expected by 
  the goddess to obey any Favored unquestioningly, 
  to the death. However, Favored status doesn’t last 
  long, and those who lose it are always informed 
  of their loss—usually sneeringly and accompa-
  nied by an attack by fellow Doombringers. The 
  goddess never tells those unfortunates directly. 
  While one enjoys the status of Favored, a Doom-
  bringer tends to work in frenzied haste to “do 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  143
  great things” so as to please Beshaba and retain 
  one’s title. These works usually include attempts 
  to conquer cities, topple thrones, or openly hunt 
  down and slaughter clergy of other faiths who 
  have thwarted the church of Doom’s schemes or 
  harassed Doombringers.
   
  A few fallen Favored have tried to seize great 
  wealth, then disguise themselves and flee—but 
  since Beshaba knows where each one is, such 
  a tactic inevitably turns the short remainder of 
  one’s life into a hunt that can have only one end-
  ing. Just two fallen Favored are thought to have 
  survived: Avalant Rauntur, who turned himself 
  into a dragon and has remained one ever since; 
  and Calathra Hargentle, who slew so many 
  Doombringers that the church of Doom stopped 
  sending them after her—giving her time to disap-
  pear through a gate into another world.
  Bhaal, Lord of Murder
   
  Creed: Murder is natural. Slaying is what all 
  creatures in Faerûn do, daily if they can. At least 
  daily, slay something living—and the Lord of 
  Murder is most pleased if the victim is one of your 
  own kind and as formidable as, or more power-
  ful than, you. Kill with swift skill, not by torture, 
  forced suicide, falls, or collisions. Do it person-
  ally, with ever-greater deftness and elegance, and 
  teach others the skills and the delights of slaying.
   
  Deathbringers are to slay with enough skill 
  that witnesses are impressed. They are always to 
  challenge those more powerful than themselves, 
  the clergy of other deities being prize targets. Slay 
  with pleasure, but never with anger. Be in exqui-
  site control of yourself. Utter the name of Bhaal 
  so the victim can hear it. Ideally, it should be the 
  last word a victim hears.
   
  Secular Aims: Some Deathbringers have 
  always sought to enrich themselves by their kill-
  ings, usually by thereafter plundering and swiftly 
  reselling the wealth of their victims. Deathbring-
  ers are expected to share half of all coins thus 
  gained, but the church has always been silent on 
  nonmonetary gains, such as land and rentable 
  buildings. Every Deathbringer has a designated 
  senior priest that should be paid, if one can’t fully 
  share at a nearby temple of Bhaal. Some Death-
  bringers avoid paying their superiors by bartering 
  what they gain, so coins, gems, and trade bars are 
  never directly involved.
   
  After the Time of Troubles, prayers to Bhaal 
  went unanswered for a time; then they were 
  answered again—but the god himself remains 
  silent. Deathbringers receive instructions from 
  him only rarely, and only in nightmares . . . com-
  mandments that most of them inwardly believe 
  come from some other deity. Essentially, the few 
  surviving Deathbringers are on their own, roam-
  ing Faerûn as independent slayers. Some of them 
  make a living as assassins or trainers of assassins, 
  but slayings they do for coin don’t count as holy 
  reverences of Bhaal. Several Deathbringers have 
  managed to become city rulers or the heads of 
  city law-keeping forces—and their minions now 
  stalk the night streets slaying undesirables and 
  rivals to increase their wealth and tighten their 
  rule. Increasingly, Deathbringers seek positions 
  where they can live comfortably, make lots of 
  coin, and kill often with few consequences. Ad-
  venturers far from home are godsend targets, as 
  are outlaws or brigands; few care if such folk meet 
  a bloody doom.
  Chauntea, the Great Mother
   
  Creed: The Earthmother is everything, and 
  her health is our health. She feeds us, clothes us, 
  waters us, and shelters us. No god is greater than 
  her, though many are noisier. No god is more for-
  giving, more nurturing, or more essential. Truly, 
  Chauntea is All.
   
  Uphold no other gods above her, and champion 
  no causes over her needs and nature. Fight dis-
  ease and blight and those who spread it, especially 
  the foul servants of Talona. Give seeds freely 
  to those who will use them well, plant and sow 
  wherever it seems best, and restore green grow-
  ing things that others have despoiled. There is no 
  higher cause than that of Chauntea.
   
  Secular Aims: Chauntean clergy go by many 
  appellations, but the most popular name used 
  among themselves is Nurturers. Their hierarchy 
  is based on length of service and wisdom, embod-
  ied in the accumulated understanding of nature, 
  its cycles, and the smallest details of life. From 
  monsters to erosion and from currents to wind 
  patterns, Nurturers seek to learn it all. Acquir-
  ing such knowledge through action and by talking 
  to druids, farmers, woodcutters, hunters, quarry 
  folk, and others who work close to the land daily 
  is one commandment of Chauntea. Opening 
  
  Chapter 5
  144
  choked watercourses and burning diseased ma-
  terial so as to prevent plagues from spreading 
  is another. The paramount duty, however, is to 
  plant and to tend something growing every day, 
  even while traveling. Nurturers can feel Chauntea 
  speaking to them through the soles of their feet 
  when they walk barefoot, and whenever they lie 
  down and press their hands and faces against rock 
  or soil. When she is angry, they can hear her rum-
  bling when others can’t, and feel her displeasure 
  through the soles of their boots when they walk.
   
  Few Nurturers have the inclination to allow 
  themselves to take personal advantage of their 
  holy office, and few would dare—for they know 
  Chauntea is everywhere, and there is no hid-
  ing anything from her. However, some develop 
  enough hubris that they think farms and ranches 
  and even woodlots are better owned and tended 
  by themselves than by non-Nurturers. These cler-
  ics begin to assemble land they love, to be their 
  own. The Earthmother will drive them from 
  these plots of land if they stop wandering alto-
  gether, but she seems to tolerate Nurturers who 
  make their own land into a central base that they 
  wander out from and then circle back to. As such, 
  some Nurturers spend ever more time and effort 
  trying to cajole, coerce, trick, or trade their way 
  into owning good growing land. Some see noth-
  ing wrong in the slightest with stealing coins, land 
  deeds, and other treasure so as to use it to acquire 
  land—for what other good are these disks of dead 
  metal, that one cannot eat or use as fuel to keep 
  warm? Humans are much better freed from their 
  thrall, to spend their time in healthier work with 
  the welcoming, nurturing land. To keep land they 
  have gained, or to prevent someone from despoil-
  ing any land, some Nurturers will attempt any 
  sort of deceit, and lie straight-faced upon altars, 
  for they are merely countering human foolishness 
  with . . . human foolishness.
  Cyric, the Prince of Lies
  The stability and power of the church of Cyric 
  are by no means certain; as Bane grows in power, 
  Cyric inevitably loses. Bane is an inherently 
  stronger (less insane) personality, and thus will 
  probably eventually win the “big bad guy” con-
  test between them. The faith of Cyric is much 
  younger than the other large priesthoods of 
  Faerûn, and from the outset has been dominated 
  by opportunists from other churches seeking 
  more personal power. This situation has proved a 
  recipe for schisms, struggles, and a weak church. 
  Whatever happens to the gods themselves, the 
  church of Cyric is by no means a predictable or a 
  consistent force for anything.
  Deneir, Lord of All Glyphs 
  and Images
   
  Creed: Written and drawn information har-
  nesses what it describes, enabling readers and 
  viewers to better live in harmony with the world 
  around them and with each other. In this way, 
  over time the world itself will be improved. 
  Information should be freely available to all, ev-
  eryone should be literate, and those who destroy 
  or despoil writings, or conceal them, should be 
  punished. Glyphscribes (priests of Deneir) must 
  gather information, copy it, and share it with 
  those who desire it and with their fellow Glyph-
  scribes. Additionally, they should catalog and 
  clearly identify the context of all writings—for not 
  to do so is to spread the three sins: ignorance, un-
  certainty, and speculation.
   
  Travel the Realms for at least one of the four 
  seasons of the year and seek out records that are 
  lost in tombs, ruins, and abandoned dwellings; 
  forgotten in storage or in the homes of folk who 
  don’t read; or suppressed by courts, governments, 
  and guilds.
   
  Secular Aims: Certain senior Glyphscribes 
  fell into the habit of assembling written informa-
  tion they knew would be precious to a ruler, an 
  archwizard, or other powerful individual. They 
  would then trade that information to that individ-
  ual in return for access to other records they knew 
  the individual possessed, which they could gain 
  access to no other way.
   
  Over time, this behavior split into two practices 
  on the part of a handful of Glyphscribes. One 
  is selling information, which they justify doing 
  on the grounds that it empowers the church of 
  Deneir to purchase other records, or to buy ac-
  cess to spellbooks and other valuable tomes for 
  Glyphscribes to copy. The other is using the in-
  formation they possess to manipulate or blackmail 
  powerful beings. They justify such worldly deal-
  ings as “getting closer to recovering some part of 
  the ultimate truth,” but in the eyes of Elminster 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  145
  and other observers, they are becoming as adept 
  at, and addicted to, controlling others as the 
  Zhentarim are.
   
  Most active among these worldly Glyphscribes 
  are the cold, paranoid “you are with me or you 
  are my foe” High Scrivener Ambaerostrus of 
  Athkatla; the sly and softly smiling “everyone’s 
  friend” Belurtus Mhellovrar of Zazesspur; and 
  the urbane, superb actor Taumpras Irorlar of 
  Saerloon.
  Eldath, the Quiet One
   
  Creed: Seek stillness, and so find peace. 
  Preserve, cleanse, and repair pools, waterfalls, 
  fastnesses (sacred glades), and groves. Take no 
  thinking life save to defend it, to defend yourself, 
  or to defend other life it directly threatens—and 
  then only when there is no alternative. Replant 
  where there is felling or burning, and work with 
  the faithful of Mielikki and Silvanus to make 
  forests strong, lush, and beautiful. Do no vio-
  lence that is not needful. Prevail not in anger or 
  pride, but in sorrow. Improve something in a for-
  est every day, from watering what has dried to 
  tidying brush to clearing the course of a rivulet. 
  Reflect on your own deeds, think on what is to be 
  done, but brood not. Merely understand, accept, 
  and find peace without seeking it. Explain to oth-
  ers that this is Eldath’s way and the trail to true 
  serenity, but proselytize not. Help others when-
  ever possible, so that they may become friendlier 
  to the forest.
   
  Secular Aims: All Eldathyn are enraged by 
  deliberately set forest fires, and will fight with 
  their spells to douse such blazes or minimize 
  them and try to get as many animals safely away 
  from the flames as possible. Any creature they’ve 
  seen setting or augmenting such a blaze will not 
  receive their help, and although they won’t attack 
  them, they won’t seek to protect them, either. 
   
  Eldathyn are formally referred to as Glade-
  guardians but usually call themselves merely 
  Guardians, and they are popularly known across 
  the Realms as Gentle Guardians or the Gentle. 
  WILLIAM O’CONNOR
  While a Glyphscribe carves the mark of Deneir in the air of a forest glade before him, one of Eldath’s Guardians stands by to make sure 
  that matters don’t get out of control. The symbol does not seem to be actual fire, but one never knows. . . . 
  
  Chapter 5
  146
  They are encouraged to make their living from 
  the forest by way of harvesting plants and brew-
  ing potions, and they often serve as herbalists for 
  nearby villages or hamlets. Very few have self-in-
  terested aims that stray from Eldath’s way, though 
  some find peace in whittling wood, painting, or 
  making items they can sell.
   
  A notable exception is one of the few wander-
  ing Eldathyn clerics, the priestess Hornlarra “the 
  Feller” Braeszund, who finds peace only when 
  the heart of a forest contains no walls, fences, 
  or buildings. When she sees construction in the 
  heart of a forest she fells and scatters it, calling on 
  the aid of forest creatures such as treants when 
  she can, aiming for its obliteration. If a build-
  ing is in use, she won’t fight its occupants—but 
  she might calmly dismantle the structure around 
  them or bring it down on their heads. If the oc-
  cupants appear formidable and belligerent, she 
  avoids confrontation, melting into the forest and 
  waiting, silently and with incredible patience, for 
  a time when everyone has left the building. Then 
  she will bring it down.
  Finder Wyvernspur, the 
  Nameless Bard
  Finder is worshiped by small groups of folk who 
  gather in secluded rooms of private homes owned 
  by believers, and in many places in the Realms, 
  the faith of Finder is largely an “upper room” 
  cult. The faith isn’t evil, suppressed, or frowned 
  upon, but it has thus far taken a low-profile, “We 
  know these divine secrets that the temples of 
  more famous gods have missed” approach. Yet 
  inevitably some priests of other faiths are angered 
  by the so-called “false” beliefs and claims of those 
  who venerate Finder because they differ from the 
  teachings and beliefs of their own faith.
   
  In Waterdeep, worship of Finder occurred at 
  the Plinth and in upper rooms of private resi-
  dences until 1372 DR. At that point, a modest 
  temple of Finder was opened in Trades Ward in 
  a substantially unaltered, commonplace building 
  that had formerly been a street-level shop with 
  two floors of living suites above it.
  Gond, the Wonderbringer
   
  Creed: Encourage innovation and the in-
  vention of new tools, mechanics, and gadgets. 
  Procure and record every new tool, process, and 
  mechanical assembly. Yet preserve and record old 
  ways of doing things, as well as improvised-from-
  nature processes and tools, so fresh starts can be 
  made if any mechanized means go wrong. Assist 
  inventors and those who sell new tools and new 
  mechanical things, whether they venerate Gond 
  or not. If rulers or scoundrels seek to harm or 
  capture these inventors and sellers of inventions, 
  to destroy or seize their works, then you must de-
  fend them, free them, and liberate their works. 
  Copy everything, so that nothing will be irretriev-
  ably lost. Show mechanical devices to everyone, 
  and demonstrate the lever, the swivel joint, the 
  gear, the cog, and the pulley, so every eye can 
  see there are other ways to capture wonder and 
  accomplish things than just magic and prayer. 
  When clergy or mages oppose you, cooperate 
  rather than confront, and make common cause 
  rather than enemies.
   
  Secular Aims: Gondsmen are formally styled 
  Wonderbringers, but since Gond himself is “The 
  Wonderbringer,” they prefer to address each other 
  as Fellow Artificer, Brother Artificer, or Sister 
  Artificer. They subscribe to both a public creed 
  (above), and a secret creed. Their secret creed is 
  as follows:
   
  Influence or control every ruler possible, so the 
  works of Gond will be embraced by—and forced 
  on, if need be—everyone, smashing guilds and 
  others who won’t champion them. Covertly en-
  rich oneself personally by selling Gondar wonders 
  and by cheaply buying up the lands and buildings 
  of those ruined by competition over such won-
  ders. Work to become so wealthy that you can 
  live like a king—and overwhelm and subsume the 
  church of Waukeen, just as Gond shall conquer 
  and wed Waukeen herself.
   
  Whenever a wizard or other wielder-of-Art de-
  stroys something mechanical or its maker without 
  just personal cause, avenge that blow. Eliminate 
  spellcasters who openly deride, hate, or fear in-
  ventions and mechanics—covertly, whenever 
  possible, but openly if you must. To the public, 
  magic and mechanics are not at war. Privately, 
  they are deadly foes. So smile and be an ally in 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  147
  public, but await a good chance to smite spellcast-
  ers who denigrate or oppose Gond.
   
  Both the stationary Gondsmen in Waterdeep, 
  Athkatla, Selgaunt, Saerloon, Baldur’s Gate, and 
  the other burgeoning cities of the Realms, and 
  the majority who wander, include ambitious indi-
  viduals who hunger for power and wealth. They 
  tend to be bold but to think ahead, establishing 
  hidey-holes for caches of weapons and transport 
  vehicles, inventions that entrap intruders, and 
  wealth. Every one of them has plans of his or her 
  own, for Gond doesn’t seem to mind his clergy 
  doing well for themselves so long as they use in-
  ventions, modify inventions, and stir others to 
  invent and innovate as they proceed.
   
  Hundreds of Gondsmen scheme to make them-
  selves “coin mountains” or rulers or both, just 
  as soon as they can. One example is the golden-
  eyed and urbane Aersilk Krondamar in Athkatla. 
  Another is the striding, whirlwind-swift “Mad” 
  Madeenan Breldart, who races around the Heart-
  lands selling small disguised pistols and blades 
  that fold down into scroll tubes, all the while 
  aiding inventors and shopkeepers who want to 
  mechanize things. Some Gondsmen are bound to 
  succeed—or blow up Faerûn trying.
  Helm, the Vigilant One
   
  Creed: Guard perfectly, attentively, and with 
  forethought; be ever vigilant. Guard what you are 
  ordered to guard, including that on which your 
  charge depends. If ordered to guard the king, 
  guard also the throne and the castle around the 
  throne. If ordered to guard a man, keep safe also 
  his family, his drinking water, his food, his liveli-
  hood, and whatever else he holds dearest. Be alert 
  for slow and subtle attacks, not merely bold fron-
  tal challenges.
   
  Yet let not your guardianship extend into offi-
  ciousness and attempts to use your status or office 
  to control others. Be prepared, know your foes, 
  and be fair and farsighted in the performance of 
  your duties. On duty, do not stray, sleep, or allow 
  yourself to be distracted or lured from your post. 
  Consider weaknesses in guardianship and deal 
  with them. Corrupt or false guardians must be 
  exposed and replaced. Be ever watchful for cor-
  ruption, even among fellow Vigilators. Guard 
  with your life; Helm expects no less.
   
  Secular Aims: Helmite clergy are colloqui-
  ally referred to as the Watchful, and are formally 
  known as Vigilators or Hands of the Vigilant One. 
  They are trained military personnel who keep 
  themselves and their weapons, armor, and other 
  gear in the best of shape and readiness. “Other 
  gear” includes a dagger with a magnifying lens in 
  its pommel and a far-seer, which is a sturdy tele-
  scoping spyglass. Frequent drilling with weapons 
  and the establishment of handy caches of hidden 
  backup weapons are church requirements.
   
  The Vigilators have always hired themselves 
  out as guards of both persons and places. Thieves 
  and intruders have long known that to slay a Vigi-
  lator guard is to court Helm’s disfavor—and his 
  priesthood’s, too. “If you slay a Watcher, no one 
  who knows about it will guard and protect you,” 
  as the old folk warning goes.
   
  Vigilators strive to be exactingly attentive to 
  the orders they are given when guarding and 
  protecting, and the church itself is a disciplined 
  hierarchy. As such, corruption within its ranks 
  tends to occur only in the upper echelon of offi-
  cers, who consider themselves to have some room 
  for interpretation of orders, and for particular tac-
  tical and strategic determinations.
   
  One early Vigilator who fell from grace was 
  the Archancel (arr-chan-sell) Rhordren Thar-
  dras, who came to believe that some groups and 
  individuals had to be protected against them-
  selves. This belief led to his giving orders that had 
  Vigilators commanding during a crisis and then 
  openly ruling those they were protecting. Several 
  Vigilators since then have succumbed to similar 
  sins, believing that various folk need to be ruled 
  by priests of Helm for their own good or their 
  own protection. “Commanding in a crisis” is now 
  frowned upon within the church.
   
  The Supreme Watcher is the highest office in 
  the church of Helm. The post has been long va-
  cant, since Helm saw evil awaken within the last 
  three holders of the office and thus decided not 
  to affirm another Supreme Watcher for a time. 
  Below (and nowadays in lieu of) the Supreme 
  Watcher, four Archancels meet in council to 
  steer the faith. Each commands the faction of the 
  clergy of Helm that operates in a certain quarter 
  of Faerûn. Traditionally, the first-designated of 
  these quarters includes the Sword Coast as far 
  south as the northern boundary mountains of 
  Amn, everything west of that in and across the 
  
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  Sea of Swords, and everything east of that as far 
  as the western fringes of the High Forest. The 
  second of these quarters contains the North as far 
  east as Rashemen and as far south as the north-
  ern shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and from 
  the north shore of the Dragonmere west to the 
  northern boundary mountains of Amn. The third 
  contains everything west and south of the north-
  ern boundary of Amn and the south shore of the 
  Dragonmere and Inner Sea, to the Chondalwood 
  and the Landrise. The fourth quarter consists of 
  everything east of the first three quarters.
   
  The four Archancels are nominally equal, but 
  have precedence among each other based on per-
  sonal seniority, which is determined by length of 
  service combined with personal standing in the 
  regard of Helm. Reporting to each Archancel are 
  four Chancels, who serve as personal agents and 
  envoys. Chancels oversee Vigilator activities in 
  their Archancel’s quarter and investigate matters 
  of internal discipline.
   
  These Vigilator activities include the making of 
  arms, shields, and armor. Vigilators don’t exclu-
  sively use church-made armor and weapons, but 
  instead have over the years founded many armor-
  ies to equip fellow Watchful, and also make armor 
  and weapons for sale. These sales have proven 
  to be ongoing sources of minor corruption, as 
  Vigilators sometimes sell to one side in a conflict 
  but not another on the basis of “offerings to the 
  church” made by one side that are really personal 
  bribes.
   
  Below the Chancels are varying numbers of 
  Bishous, each of whom administers to a realm, a 
  region, or a city-state. Below the Bishous are Lec-
  tors, who are local investigators and Helmite force 
  commanders; Ardeacons, who train and spiritu-
  ally guide lower ranks of Vigilators; Prelates, who 
  are Helmite force unit commanders; Vicarphs; 
  Pryats, who are priests; Novices; and Honored 
  Laity, who are nonclergy holding offices in Hel-
  mite churches and other properties.
   
  As Ardeacon Baeryk Halholdaun famously said 
  in 1236 DR, “Our zeal is oft our undoing. We see 
  the flaws in those we guard, then seek to address 
  them because they are weaknesses that make our 
  guarding less perfect—and in our seeking we 
  stray over the line into tyranny, or into causing 
  strife, and so drift from the purpose and grace 
  of Helm.”
   
  As Elminster added dryly, “Helmites mean 
  well and are the best of sentries—but almost all of 
  them are human, and so are forever drifting away 
  from Helm.”
  Ilmater, the Crying God
   
  Creed: Share and give counsel and listen 
  whenever needful. Be a comfort and a support. 
  Stand up for the oppressed, guide the lost, and 
  give food, water, medicines, firewood, clothing, 
  and shelter to all in need—and burial to those be-
  yond mortal need. Life is sacred and suffering is 
  holy, but “life” implies the freedom to make bad 
  choices or embrace danger and hurt; thus, seek 
  not to control what others do. Sacrifice and know 
  pain and loss on behalf of others, but do not in-
  dulge in the sin of enjoying pain, benefiting from 
  your sufferings, or seeking revenge primarily to 
  inflict more pain.
   
  Secular Aims: Ilmatari priests are collectively  
  called the Adorned (formally Adorned Sufferers), 
  and include among their ranks Healers, Pain-
  bearers, and Sanctars. Healers work directly with 
  common folk, to heal and lessen suffering. These 
  individuals are often found in slums and sanctu-
  aries where the destitute and ill can find shelter 
  and be tended. Painbearers travel Faerûn and 
  work to lessen large causes of suffering, such as 
  wars, feuds, slavers, class and racial exploitation, 
  and even local bullying. The Painbearers and 
  the Sanctars work with clergy of Tyr and Torm 
  (fellow deities of the Triad) and with priests of 
  Lathander to further fairness, security, happiness, 
  and hope for all.
   
  Sanctars are the highest and most secretive 
  clergy of Ilmater; they are the judges of other 
  Adorned, internal investigators of the faith, and 
  the enforcers who fight to protect fellow Adorned 
  and their work. Where other Ilmatari merely suf-
  fer and endure, a Sanctar seeks to punish any 
  being who has harmed or mocked the clergy of Il-
  mater. Ilmatari paladins are Sanctars and knights 
  of their particular orders.
   
  Certain Sanctars have apparently received 
  personal direction from Ilmater—or believe they 
  have, and have not suffered any rebuke to dis-
  abuse them of this belief—that suffering would 
  be “shared more broadly, but lessened in its worst 
  excesses” if wealth were redistributed from the 
  very wealthy to the poorest. These few Sanctars 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  149
  are at work in Athkatla, Waterdeep, the cities 
  of Sembia, and elsewhere to steal or manipulate 
  any coins, trade goods, and property they can 
  get from the rich and successful. These spoils 
  they then pass on to the needy. They also work 
  to equalize taxation, to pressure governments 
  into providing for their poorest citizens, and to 
  ensure that courtiers and other officials found 
  guilty of corruption are heavily fined rather than 
  merely jailed or dismissed from their posts. Some 
  Sanctars work tirelessly to find and expose such 
  corruption—particularly when it involves the 
  misuse of public funds that would otherwise have 
  benefited the wider populace.
  Lathander, the Morninglord
  Lathander’s priests are the clergy most concerned 
  with business start-ups, new ideas, get-rich-quick 
  schemes, social renewals, and reorganizations—
  usually involving smaller groups rather than 
  governments, though sometimes of government 
  bureaucracies, too. They are the folk to see if you 
  need a larger loan than a local moneylender will 
  provide.
   
  Optimists are preferred as clergy, and their 
  upbeat nature is infectious, making Lathand-
  erites popular. The clergy host parties to which 
  they bring carefully chosen eloquent thinkers 
  who like to converse. Once everyone is together, 
  they watch over the proceedings with sober-up 
  spells held ready to keep anyone from getting so 
  intoxicated that heated debates turn into brawls 
  or enthusiastic agreements drift into lovemaking. 
  They want the revelers to listen and talk and then 
  go home feeling inspired, uplifted by new ideas, 
  and a part of new endeavors, movements, and 
  ways of daily doing things.
   
  Some Lathanderites are matchmakers, seeing 
  this activity as fostering newness in lives, but oth-
  ers believe this function is more properly left to 
  Chauntea, or Sharess, or even Siamorphe, if the 
  partners are noble.
   
  Creed: The Morninglord stands for new 
  beginnings and ideas, innovation and artistic ex-
  pression, renewal and self-perfection, birth and 
  fertility, creativity and vitality, youth and athleti-
  cism, and dawn and spring. He abhors undeath 
  and desires to see it destroyed, and is a fierce foe 
  of evil and the tolerance of evil. Be as Lathander.
   
  Support new beginnings of all sorts, be they 
  lives, businesses, ideas, fashions, art, or ways of 
  doing things. Scorn not old art in favor of the 
  new, for all art is expression that stirs new think-
  ing in those who work it and those who behold 
  it. Plant seeds and seedlings, and make common 
  cause with the clergy of Chauntea. Sow hope even 
  more often than you sow seeds. Greet each dawn 
  personally, so as to be closest to Lathander and 
  so as to drink in the bright hope that every sun-
  rise brings. Helping others and instilling hope are 
  more important than laws, rules, and adherence 
  to authority.
   
  Secular Aims: The Awakened (novices of 
  the priesthood) are trained and manipulated by 
  Dawnbringers (Lathanderite priests) to experi-
  ence hope and to share hope with others. Belief in 
  the uplifting power of daily hope is their strength 
  and what drives them, and kindling and main-
  taining this zest for life is essential for one who 
  would do successful service to Lathander. Spread-
  ing hope and enthusiasm is “your holy task, your 
  life’s work, and your daily salvation,” in the words 
  of Dawnmaster Istorn Malvantur of Elturel.
   
  Every Dawnbringer is encouraged to share 
  new ideas, as well as to help common folk every-
  where with their new ideas. Lathanderite clergy 
  fund new endeavors and facilitate cooperation 
  between crafters and traders by bringing them 
  into contact, guaranteeing loans, and witness-
  ing agreements. From there, it’s a short step into 
  going into business for oneself—and many Dawn-
  bringers do just that, becoming “wheeler-dealer” 
  moneylenders, traders, investors, and lobbyists in 
  the mercantile world all across Faerûn (but con-
  centrated in cities, ports, and market towns).
   
  The popular expression “as eager as a Dawn-
  bringer seeking to sell you a rag folded in a new 
  way” speaks to public bemusement at the tire-
  less hucksterism of some Lathanderites. In the 
  faith of the Morninglord, promotion of “the 
  new” trumps possible negative consequences 
  or the (very rare) disapproval of the church of 
  Lathander. As a result, most Dawnbringers are 
  avid boosters, sponsors, and abettors of swindles, 
  new business ventures, and (often covert) “new 
  ways” in trade. As a merchant of Selgaunt put it, 
  “Intrigues? They’re what you can’t hear or see us 
  doing behind all the excited bustling and cajoling 
  done by the dawn-dancing, hope-happy-heads of 
  Lathander.”
  
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  Leira, the Lady of the Mists
   
  Creed: The meaning of life lies in deception 
  and falsity. To deceive is to live, and to manipu-
  late through deceit is to triumph. Bald fact is 
  mere existence, and even death can be an illu-
  sion. If you believe nothing you see or hear, you 
  embrace the Goddess of Deception and Illusion, 
  and will succeed. Plain and whole truth must 
  be spoken to fellow Mistshadowed—among the 
  ranks of the Unmasked, there must be no deceit. 
  Outside our holy fellowship, let untruth always 
  swirl strong. Lie to someone every day. Weighty 
  and well-told lies are better than merely frivolous 
  ones. The best sort of lie is wholly believable and 
  spurs those who believe it to do things they would 
  not have done had they not heard it. Foster and 
  pass on rumors daily, and revel in the delicious 
  sharing of confidences and gossip that are untrue. 
  The truth is worthless; falsehood is the allure and 
  satisfying drink of life.
   
  Spread superior falsehoods and deceit and 
  prosper thereby, for in your success, the Mist-
  shadow deepens, and the Lady succeeds, too.
   
  Secular Aims: The Mistshadowed (clergy of 
  Leira) are expected to deceive outsiders as often 
  as it is possible to do so well, and at least once 
  daily. They are also expected to try to profit from 
  their many deceits, and to share—without decep-
  tion as to the amount—a tenth of what they make 
  with the church of Leira. Fellow Mistshadowed 
  are expected to aid in deceptions they deem el-
  egant—for a share of the takings, of course.
   
  Deceiving a fellow clergy of Leira can lead to 
  one being expelled from the church and victim-
  ized by the Shunning of the Lady: Leira’s curse, 
  which means no one will ever believe anything 
  regarding the cursed one, even what they can see 
  with their own eyes—which state of affairs usu-
  ally leads to the accursed becoming an outcast or 
  finding death through bitter fighting or a swift 
  suicide.
   
  Priests of Leira will work together ruthlessly 
  against anyone who deceives one of them, but 
  otherwise tend to operate alone, working decep-
  tion upon deception in every city of Faerûn. 
  Under multiple names, they accumulate prop-
  erties and hide caches of wealth in many clever 
  places. In one Leiran priest’s house, a cracked, 
  filthy chamber pot was accidentally broken one 
  day—and was discovered to have seventy gold 
  pieces hidden in an unfired clay slurry lining that 
  had been used to reseal and repair the pot.
   
  Mistshadowed never stop swindling and ma-
  nipulating and investing. As Exalted Mistcloak 
  Irltobrand Zamrest of Ormpur puts it, “We like to 
  feel the Lady’s smile.”
  Lliira, Our Lady of Joy
   
  Creed: Joy is the essence, the spark, and 
  the reward of life when expressed in revelry. 
  Joy bound up inwardly is joy unshared, and joy 
  shared is joy increased for all. Celebrate daily 
  with non-Joydancers, even if only in impromptu 
  dances and chanted ditties and jests imparted. 
  Awaken smiles and laughter, lighten hearts, and 
  encourage folk to express their joy. Sing without 
  shame or criticism; mimic without malice; lam-
  poon without nasty intent, but only in laughter.
   
  Secular Aims: Joydancers (priests of Lliira) 
  are expected to put on revels, large and small (but 
  larger is better), whenever they can. To share joy, 
  they want strangers and passersby to join in, and 
  they are pleased when crowds are lured together. 
  Although unbridled horseplay can be a feature of 
  many such events, Joydancers are good at revelry 
  and so often get hired by nobility, the wealthy, 
  and courtiers to put on events. They are experts 
  at organization, subtle crowd control, costumes 
  and decorations, food and drink, the establish-
  ment of proper mood, and the pacing of revels. 
  They are expected to share twenty percent of 
  their takings with the church of Lliira, but may 
  keep the rest—and many Joydancers do quite well 
  from sideline businesses such as training dancers 
  and acrobats, selling and renting costumes, and 
  catering.
   
  Some of Lliira’s priests aren’t above covertly 
  causing or encouraging local rivalries between 
  the sponsors of revels. This interplay results in 
  each side trying to outdo the other, year after 
  year, by putting on larger, longer, and more ex-
  pensive festivities—which Joydancers and others 
  derive ever-increasing profits from. In Sembia 
  and Amn in particular, such efforts have led to 
  a rise in flamboyant high society over the years, 
  setting trends among nobility and the wealthy, 
  making increasingly florid clothing fashionable, 
  and popularizing ever more costly feasts and rev-
  els. As Joydancer Mralaera Tretta of Saerloon put 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  151
   ERIC BELISLE
  it in 1354 DR, “Times hard? Play harder! Times 
  good? Play harder still!”
   
  Whenever possible, Joydancers create a cul-
  ture of celebration in which folk rich and poor see 
  no reason not to hold frequent nightly feasts and 
  revels, after the day’s work is done. These events 
  inevitably become “the” places where adventurers 
  meet those who want to hire them, where deals 
  bright and shady are done, where strangers and 
  “long aways” hear the latest local news and gos-
  sip, and many go to see and be seen.
  Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain
   
  Creed: Spread pain, and the love of pain. 
  Visit pain often upon others, but in a kind, ten-
  der way that makes them seek it. Kiss the lash 
  and feel its sting at least once daily, while praying 
  to the Maiden. Do hurt, cause agony, inflict tor-
  ment, induce suffering, and work torture—all in 
  a loving manner, so that those you inflict the ca-
  resses of Loviatar upon will seek them willingly, 
  and want more. Never force or coerce.
   
  Be an ever more accomplished actor, playing 
  the part of someone who cares deeply, so that you 
  will be loved and longed for by those you hurt. 
  Doing so makes the hurt deeper. Seduce kings 
  and other rulers, influential persons, and heads of 
  wealthy families to the Kiss of Loviatar whenever 
  possible, that those they influence shall fall into 
  acceptance of the Sacred Pain. Be mysterious and 
  alluring, be kindly and flirtatious, and awaken 
  love and lust. Slay clergy of Ilmater whenever co-
  vertly possible.
   
  Secular Aims: Loviathan clergy are formally 
  called the Lashes of Loviatar, and informally 
  known as Inflictors. They are encouraged to de-
  velop personal relationships, particularly with the 
  influential and powerful, dealing pain with love 
  or feigned love so as to dominate their victims. 
  A priestess of Lliira and a priestess of Loviatar both love to dance, one for joy and the other for pain. Yet are their dances, all matters con-
  sidered, so different? How you answer that question defines you.
  
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  They may keep any wealth and prizes they gain 
  thereby, so long as they use such relationships 
  to increase local social acceptance of the Kiss 
  (willingly suffered pain) and bring more willing 
  participants to the reverence of Loviatar.
   
  In the mid 1300s DR, the goddess purged her 
  church of many of its highest-ranking clergy, and 
  replaced its top-down hierarchy with a far more 
  independent, broadly based structure. The hi-
  erarchy used to consist of a High Whipmistress 
  pontiff atop seven Exalted Scourges, and a strict 
  hierarchy of fourteen clerical ranks beneath them. 
  The new structure has seven Exalted Scourges 
  and their envoys and discipline agents, the Pains, 
  at the top. Then, there are administering En-
  trusted Whips, who are the heads of temples, and 
  to whom any number of Lashes (senior priest-
  esses) and Lesser Lashes (ordinary priests) report. 
  This change stimulated personal initiative in the 
  lower ranks and started the transformation of the 
  faith from a widely feared, secretive cult cater-
  ing only to the wealthiest and highest-ranking in 
  secular society to an increasingly trendy church. 
  Inflictors who have risen since this great change 
  include the following personages.
   
  “Lady” Ladaeliya Larkoond, the Entrusted 
  Whip of the Tower of Sighs, which is the temple 
  of Loviatar in Zazesspur. Larkoond is an allur-
  ing beauty who has entranced wealthy merchants 
  in Amn, Tethyr, and Calimshan, and been gifted 
  with no fewer than six castles and more than a 
  dozen vineyards and farms.
   
  Tathjanesse Waerntyr, the Entrusted Whip of 
  Lashtail House, a temple she founded in Sara-
  dush with the personal approval of Loviatar. She 
  accomplished this after making great personal 
  advances in the region—several rulers seek her as 
  their consort, and no less than sixteen important 
  merchants publicly want her hand in marriage. 
  She is a political confidant in the region, with 
  ever-increasing influence. As she once told Ex-
  alted Scourge Hevendra Vrayn of the Whip of 
  Athkatla, “They come for the pain, and stay for 
  the embraces and advice.”
   
  Andratha Dorntalon, Pain of Elversult, is one 
  of the most energetic and far-traveled Inflictors. 
  Dorntalon is a priestess whose exploits would 
  shame many a veteran adventurer. By turns sub-
  missive and a charismatic ruler who projects 
  absolute authority, Dorntalon enjoys a special 
  relationship with Loviatar. She carries out secret 
  missions given to her by the goddess, answers 
  only to the Exalted Scourges (who treat her with 
  great respect), and always seems to have con-
  cealed weapons or waiting allies to rescue her if 
  she faces doom. Fellow Inflictors know that her 
  duties include destroying the most formidable 
  foes of the church.
  Lurue, the Unicorn
  Followers of the Dancing Unicorn believe she is 
  the Art embodied in divinity. They believe that 
  all that is good and natural in magic, as opposed 
  to the self-interested castings of mortal spellcast-
  ers, is due to Her—not to Azuth or Mystra, who 
  respectively curb the excesses of wizards and see 
  to the magical balance of all Faerûn.
   
  The touch of Lurue’s horn restores life. It can 
  cleanse and purify, driving out insanity and the 
  strongest poison, and even change a person’s psy-
  chological makeup or race.
   
  Contact with Lurue’s horn brings the greatest 
  rapture possible to anyone who can cast magic, 
  imbuing such people—one time per individual—
  with glowing inner peace and endowing them 
  with nine spells they can cast, by silent act of will, 
  once each at any point later in their lives. These 
  spells appear instantly in the recipient’s mind, are 
  chosen by Lurue, and might be linked to a destiny 
  or an intended mission the recipient is unaware 
  of—or the spells might inspire him or her to walk 
  a certain path through life.
   
  Luruans travel the Realms interviewing wit-
  nesses of Lurue’s dancing and consulting records 
  of her past dances, trying to visit every spot where 
  the Bright Unicorn was seen dancing. Or, rather, 
  right underneath every spot Lurue was seen danc-
  ing, since she usually dances in mid-air, a tall 
  man’s chest height off the ground. They believe 
  that for every dancing place they stand under, 
  they rise in Lurue’s regard, and she will impart 
  through dreams more and more magical lore to 
  them. Such lore might be the locations of lost 
  or hidden magic items, scrolls, or spellbooks, or 
  it might be knowledge of areas of wild magic or 
  nodes of power they can draw on simply by step-
  ping into them.
   
  Wild magic areas and nodes can harm most 
  mortals, but those who enter them with the 
  blessing of Lurue can only be aided by such free 
  magic—or so Luruans believe. And there’s strong 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  153
  evidence—many personal reports of benefits—
  that they’re right. Usually it heals, restoring lost 
  or withered body parts and closing all wounds.
  Malar, the Beastlord
  Malar tends to be worshiped in hunts only in 
  rural areas, not through city streets, except where 
  there’s a local tradition of “a night of misrule” or 
  “a night when the old gods walk.” Local Malar 
  worshipers often take advantage of such traditions 
  to stage their own hunts on the same nights—and 
  persons who go out on these nights often wind up 
  as corpses lying on the cobbles in the morning.
   
  Urban-based holy hunts can take place in sew-
  ers, large walled gardens belonging to wealthy 
  worshipers of Malar, and within Malar’s temples. 
  When a hunt takes place in a temple, participants 
  are sometimes blindfolded and in the dark, lightly 
  armed and unarmored, with all the doors of the 
  temple spiked open, to give the quarry a fighting 
  chance in the small confines.
   
  Malarite clergy and fanatical lay worship-
  ers prize the scars that they receive from wild 
  beasts, though one such must be gained through 
  unarmed grappling with an angry or hungry 
  monster to be truly worthy.
   
  Some Malarites drink the blood of wild 
  animals and monsters as if it were fine wine, be-
  lieving that such imbibing imparts some of the 
  power of the creatures to them. A few hold “blood 
  feasts,” using whatever blood they can harvest 
  when a great beast is slain. Other Malarites see 
  this practice as foolishness, or even blasphemous 
  straying from the way of Malar, because it deni-
  grates beasts that should be exalted.
   
  Creed: Hunt often, in honor of the Beastlord. 
  Slaughter your quarry bloodily, so it knows its 
  slayer and its doom. Slay no young, no gestating 
  creature, and no deepspawn, so as not to lessen 
  the quarry for hunts ahead. Ignore laws, and 
  battle law keepers. The only true law is the will of 
  Malar, and where Malar is silent, the law of the 
  wild prevails: The strong do as they please, and 
  the weak flee, obey, or die.
   
  It is Malar’s will that a quarry that escapes 
  a hunt not be hunted ever again, but instead be 
  treated with respect as an Unblooded. Stand 
  against woodcutters and clearers of the land, feed 
  the hungry from the bounty of your hunts, and 
  obey no priest of another god. Taste the blood 
  of those you kill, and never slay from a distance. 
  Know cunning and the ways of the wild, but 
  never fear. Face your foes and prevail.
   
  Secular Aims: Malarite clergy are known 
  as Bloodhunters, though in some lands they’re 
  called Beasts, a name of which many are rather 
  proud. Nominally allied to the clergy of Bane and 
  Loviatar, and subject to the priests of Silvanus, 
  in practice Bloodhunters trust no one and make 
  allies only if they see no other hope of survival—
  and then only temporarily and reluctantly. They 
  are bidden to slaughter clergy of Nobanion (Ma-
  lar’s mortal foe) on sight.
   
  Because their kind has been spurned and 
  treated with open contempt and mistrust for 
  centuries, some Bloodhunters decide to become 
  implacable foes of all societies and peoples. How-
  ever, they do not attack openly and in so doing 
  risk getting overwhelmed, but skulk with subtlety. 
  These Bloodhunters pounce on rulers, courtiers, 
  envoys, and law keepers they can assault without 
  witnesses, and tear them apart so that the after-
  math looks like the work of wild beasts.
   
  From the 1350s DR onward, in Cormyr, the 
  environs of Westgate, upcountry Sembia, and the 
  forests of Tethyr, some Bloodhunters have taken 
  to quietly accepting payments to make certain 
  “inconvenient” individuals the quarries in their 
  hunts. In this way, they have slowly built up small 
  personal fortunes. They are well aware that they 
  are easy scapegoats, though, and are alert for 
  attempts to betray them or send them into hope-
  less missions. Notorious among these skulker 
  Malarites are the huge, bearlike Orn Belaskar, 
  who is the Talon of Malar in Daerlun, and Trusk 
  Mrond, who is the Fang of Malar in Westgate.
   
  Other Bloodhunters have taken to living wild 
  in caverns, dedicating themselves to out-hunting 
  bears, leucrottas, and goblinkin for their lairs. 
  From there, they mount infrequent raids in great 
  force on nearby settlements, passing caravans, 
  and farms. Raiding Bloodhunters seek to kill 
  everyone and leave no witnesses. Then they with-
  draw in such a way as to lure any response into a 
  prepared trap where they can slaughter from posi-
  tions of advantage. Then they plunder the fallen, 
  taking food and other gleanings back to their 
  lairs, and plan where next to strike.
  
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  154
  Mask, Lord of Shadows
   
  Creed: Steal or deceive daily; the Lord of 
  Shadows is most pleased if you manage both. 
  Subtle deception and manipulation always tri-
  umph. Convincingly feigned honesty is a sharp 
  daily sword, misleadingly selective honesty is 
  subtlety, and pure honesty is for fools. Acquire, 
  deal, deceive, and acquire more. Give a single 
  gem every month to the Shadowed Altar, or 2,000 
  gp in coin or trade bars only if you cannot thieve 
  a gem. The rest is yours—if you can keep it. Steal 
  not from fellow Darkfingers, but with style and 
  frequency from everyone else.
   
  Secular Aims: Priests of Mask are known as 
  Darkfingers, or sometimes Darks informally. Col-
  lectively, they are referred to as the Circle of the 
  Gray Ribbon, though they consider “Circlers” an 
  insult. Mask doesn’t require them to steal daily, 
  but he does command his clergy to engage in de-
  ceit daily—and to steal when the time is right, to 
  gain the best prize or the most wealth. So long 
  as the altar tithe is made, Darks may keep every-
  thing they steal. This not-so-fringe benefit has 
  made Maskarran clergy into some of the great-
  est and most energetic swindlers, smugglers, and 
  thieves the Realms has ever seen. Most of them 
  spurn pickpocketing and “snatch-and-grab” work 
  in favor of stealing entire loaded coaches, or ships, 
  or the contents of a warehouse.
   
  A few have sideline businesses in quickly mak-
  ing “exact look-alike” replica gems and jewelry, 
  for nothing delights a Dark more than stealing the 
  cost of a castle in gems—and deftly replacing the 
  gems with nigh-worthless duplicates so the theft 
  isn’t discovered for years, if ever. That sort of act 
  combines theft with deceit, which earns Mask’s 
  highest approval. The Darks Nathel Awbrunton 
  of Mordulkin and Torsel Halivar of Yhaunn make 
  particularly fine false gems that can fool many 
  jewelers and gem cutters.
   
  In earlier times, when Mask was God of In-
  trigue, Darkfingers were encouraged to dabble 
  deeply in local politics, so as to hide their thefts 
  behind a swirling web of possible treason, suspi-
  cious dealings, and misdirections. This web of 
  intrigues lured law keepers and spies away from 
  Maskarrans and their illicit activities. Darks often 
  thrust realms or city-states into civil war or to the 
  brink of it for amusement, easier thefts, and swin-
  dles—and to the greater glory and praise of Mask.
   
  After 1358 DR, Mask grew angry with Darks 
  who engaged in politics, requiring of them less 
  bold public activities. Henceforth, they were to 
  deceive on a personal level and cling to the shad-
  ows. Most Darks are inwardly relieved by this 
  edict, because avoiding politics is far safer and 
  takes a lot less time and effort. Presently, Dark-
  fingers keep lower profiles, buying and selling 
  properties by means of hired factors unaware of 
  whom they’re really representing, and concern 
  themselves with growing richer.
  Mielikki, the Forest Queen
   
  Creed: Our Lady of the Forest requires her 
  Arms of the Forest (the clerics and druids dedi-
  cated to her) to defend the trees, and keep the 
  Balance. An Arm of Mielikki should drive out 
  or destroy magical and unnatural blights and 
  evil beasts not native to forests. Each one should 
  live in the woods, be as one with the woods, and 
  teach others the ways of the woods. All should be 
  taught to love and respect wood life, not fear it. 
  Plant anew wherever the woods are lessened or 
  harmed. Protect, support, and when need arises 
  obey the clergy of Silvanus and Eldath.
   
  Secular Aims: Forests must be kept healthy, 
  and accomplishing that goal might well require 
  manipulating or bargaining with rulers and gov-
  ernments. For instance, an Arm of Mielikki 
  might let local authorities cut down dead or dying 
  trees in one place so long as they leave alone a re-
  growing area in another place. Mielikki’s priests 
  maintain hidden-vale nurseries of seedlings of all 
  sorts of forest plants, and defend deep-forest pre-
  serves where rare forest animals can breed and 
  flourish in peace.
   
  Often, in the 1340s DR, the relatively few 
  elves in the Dales lived and worked hand in hand 
  with Mielikki’s Arms, relying on them to be “our 
  shields.” The term arose because if an Arm fell in 
  battle, there were many more humans to replace 
  the victim—whereas when an elf perished, there 
  were no reinforcements to be had. A decade or 
  so of being battle-companions forged a deep and 
  abiding trust between Mielikkians and local elves 
  that survives to this day.
   
  In the 1350s DR, Mielikki marked Florin Fal-
  conhand with her favor. Her avatar made love to 
  him, set him special tasks, and later commanded 
  him to wed Dove of the Seven Sisters “because 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  155
  By the tenth Realmslore package, my faithful typewriter had run out of ribbons, and my move to the countryside (and the house wherein 
  I still dwell, amid ever more perilous stacks of books and games) had left me in territory devoid of office supply shops. Yet my editors (and 
  beyond them, the gaming world) were waiting, so I sat down and handwrote, at top speed, short alphabetical entries regarding names on my 
  maps that the TSR folks wanted to know more about. Pronto. Decades later, that “We gotta know more now” situation hasn’t changed.
  
  Chapter 5
  156
  this union—and its issue—are needful.” Florin 
  and Dove had a son, Azalar, whom they took 
  turns raising in Evermeet.
   
  After the mid 1360s DR, on the outskirts of 
  Secomber and in upcountry Sembia, some Arms 
  of Mielikki began purchasing large tracts of land 
  with coins they had recovered from forest ruins 
  and hidden caches. They planted these ranches 
  in ordered plantations of trees rather than as a 
  natural woodland, creating “forest shields” to 
  provide the expanding populations in both areas 
  with ready timber that the Arms felled and sold 
  very cheaply. This practice was later repeated in 
  Amn and Tethyr. Woodcutters in these areas who 
  instead prefer to despoil the natural forest are met 
  with violence, often at the hands of outlander ad-
  venturing bands that the Arms hire as “armies of 
  the trees,” in preference to fighting most of the 
  battles themselves.
  Milil, Lord of Song
   
  Creed: Teach music and the making of in-
  struments, always with joy. Encourage those who 
  make music to teach it to others and record its 
  lyrics and tunes, so that no music will ever be 
  lost. Seek new tunes and new instruments con-
  stantly, and master both. Work for ever greater 
  acceptance of music, everywhere, so that sponta-
  neous song and instrumental performances will 
  be accepted and not merely tolerated, or shunned. 
  Perform music freely, and awaken the love of song 
  in all creatures. Work with the clergy of Oghma, 
  Lliira, Sune, and Mystra, and make common 
  cause with elves whenever possible. Encourage 
  the clergy of Gond to remember music in their 
  mechanics—and all clergy to use more song and 
  music, not just more volume, in their rituals.
   
  Secular Aims: Sorlyn (priests of Milil) are 
  called upon by Milil to perform and to teach how 
  to make instruments without charging a price, 
  but they need not tutor for free or give away in-
  struments that they have made. Many Sorlyn 
  in their travels tutor the poor and hard-working 
  commoners at no charge, or perhaps in return for 
  a meal or a drink, but when they become regu-
  lar tutors of nobility, royalty, or the very wealthy, 
  those same Sorlyn charge fees. The casually orga-
  nized priesthood of Milil expects every Sorlyn to 
  donate what coins he or she can spare to church 
  coffers once a year, preferably in winter or at the 
  coming of spring. Some Sorlyn engage in friendly 
  competition with their fellow priests, donating 
  ever-increasing amounts to show off their per-
  sonal success. Nonetheless, Sorlyn are essentially 
  entitled to keep every coin they make. Many Sor-
  lyn charge healthy fees for making or repairing 
  instruments (how healthy depending greatly on 
  the perceived wealth of the client) and become 
  quite rich.
   
  One such affluent individual is the minstrel 
  Ilmer Yuskalorn, who is famous around the Inner 
  Sea by his last name alone. Yuskalorn settled in 
  the Sembian city of Selgaunt and worked tire-
  lessly to make “paerehel” (personalized entrance) 
  tunes a customary feature of government meet-
  ings and rituals. In other words, whenever a 
  courtier, a ruler, or a guild representative formally 
  enters a meeting place or a room of state, that 
  person’s “very own” brief tune is played, rather 
  than merely a war-horn fanfare for the ruler and 
  nothing for everyone else. Other people attending 
  such affairs started to demand their own tunes, 
  and Yuskalorn was happy—for fees, of course—to 
  compose tunes for them and to teach those ditties 
  to other musicians. The fashion of paerehel tunes 
  has caught on and is spreading, notably to Cor-
  myr and the rest of Sembia, though it has thus far 
  been frowned upon in Westgate.
   
  Another Sorlyn of interest is Daretha Haelim-
  broke, a bard in Chessenta who has some small 
  talent for the Art. She works with three indepen-
  dent wizards—Endrelle Laryndar of Mordulkin, 
  Berem Duntrel of Luthcheq, and Aumdror 
  Velaszkyr of Gheldaneth—on linking spells to 
  tunes. Her short, simple melodies, when played 
  correctly, in the right key, and with the right in-
  strument—trigger the magics they are linked 
  to, opening doors, turning on or shutting down 
  wards, unleashing offensive spells, and so on. 
  Myrkul, Lord of Bones
   
  Creed: Make certain daily that all fear the 
  Lord of Bones—who cannot be evaded, hidden 
  from, or shut out. For the dead are his sub-
  jects, and the slide into death his pleasure and 
  his dominion. Speak daily to all you meet of the 
  Doombringers to come and Doombringers past—
  those moved by Myrkul to bring death, delivering 
  souls to the one who shall have them all in the 
  end, the mighty and the low-born, the cloaked in 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  157
  proud Art and the barely able to speak. Silently 
  remind folk of death by your garb, the skulls you 
  carry, and the finger bones you trail behind you 
  as you travel. You fear nothing, for to harm you is 
  to die.
   
  Secular Aims: Myrkulyte priests are known 
  as the Anointed, and are sometimes called the 
  Grinning Anointed in reference to the human 
  skulls they carry and the skull masks some of 
  them wear. They tend to remain silent, and when 
  they speak, it is in a whisper or a calm voice, and 
  it is only ever a few words. It is poor form among 
  the Anointed to show emotion when one can 
  instead speak coldly and flatly, and maintain ap-
  parent calm.
   
  Word spread during the early 1300s DR that 
  to do any violence to a priest of Myrkul was to 
  die. Not on the spot; the belief is that Anointed 
  of Myrkul know when one of their own dies, and 
  how, and inexorably hunt down any responsible 
  slayers. This reputation led to a few thieves and 
  desperate individuals seeking to escape justice 
  or manhunts by masquerading as clergy of the 
  Reaper, so that no one would be inclined to ap-
  proach them. These people dressed in black robes 
  and skull masks and carried skulls or scythes to 
  look like Anointed—or like Myrkul himself. For 
  these folk, Myrkulyte clergy make an exception: 
  They slay on sight anyone who had been attempt-
  ing this ruse—and as painfully as possible. Word 
  of such encounters has got around, with the result 
  that fewer and fewer folk dare even get in the way 
  of the unhurriedly strolling Anointed.
   
  In turn, this enhanced reputation means that 
  priests of Myrkul are free to just walk up and take 
  almost anything they desire. This freedom ex-
  tends only to nonliving objects; the loved ones of 
  someone an Anointed assaults or attempts to take 
  captive typically will fight to protect their kin or 
  beloved. Some Anointed use this privilege to go 
  through life never paying for a meal or any item 
  they fancy; others use it to amass large personal 
  fortunes—which Myrkul doesn’t seem to mind.
   
  The Anointed are a casually organized priest-
  hood, with rank (Higher Anointed, Anointed, 
  Lesser Anointed, and Initiate) based largely 
  on seniority and experience in the presence of 
  Myrkul himself. Myrkul is known to visit those 
  he favors personally, chilling them with his touch 
  or embrace. Those who survive the terror and 
  permanent withering that such contact brings 
  improve their standing in the church. Myrkul 
  did away with supreme high priests at the head 
  of his church after several rebelled against him 
  or sought to deceive him. Lower-ranking priests 
  must obey, aid, and give money, food, or shelter 
  to higher-ranking ones—but this is expected to be 
  temporary “aid of the moment,” not a way for the 
  higher-ranking to live off those in the lower ranks. 
  Such abuse is rightful grounds for a lower-rank-
  ing Anointed to simply defy a higher Anointed.
   
  Anointed of Myrkul are expected to slay (or at 
  least coerce into changing their ways) law keepers, 
  courtiers, and rulers who harass, arrest, jail, or 
  slay necromancers or anyone purely for practicing 
  necromancy. Otherwise, they are free to spread 
  fear daily—and to enrich themselves in any man-
  ner they see fit, short of betraying the faith.
  Mystra, Mother of All Magic
   
  Creed: Seek to learn and create new magic 
  always, and love the Art for itself, not for what it 
  can do for you. Know when not to use magic and 
  when a little of it, skillfully applied, can suffice. 
  Be deft and efficient in wielding the Art, never 
  careless or reckless. Be mindful that the Art is the 
  gift of the Lady of Mysteries, and use it humbly, 
  not proudly. Teach magic to all, high and low, 
  and use it to benefit others, so that acceptance of 
  magic grows and the ability to wield magic wid-
  ens from a select few to almost every creature of 
  Faerûn. Let magic prevail and brighten life, not 
  reign over it and constrain it.
   
  Craft new spells and magic items as the Lady’s 
  visions and mysteries move you. Delight and thrill 
  in the use of magic, but strive to master it ever 
  more precisely, so that less of it can achieve more. 
  Preserve magical lore, but share it rather than 
  hiding it, that all may taste it and set aside their 
  fear of its power.
   
  Secular Aims: Of old, priests of Mystra were 
  known as Mystrels, and later Mystwardens or 
  Bearers of Mystery. By the 1300s DR, they were 
  popularly called Magerobes, though they called 
  themselves Servants (after “Servants of Mystra”). 
  Like the Chosen of Mystra who are so infamous 
  in tavern tales and legends, her Servants travel 
  the Realms instructing creatures in the use of 
  magic, and leaving spell scrolls, workbooks (sim-
  ple spellbooks), and even magic items to be found. 
  The intent is to leave so much magic in so many 
  
  Chapter 5
  158
  places that rulers, law keepers, and selfish wizards 
  can’t hope to find all of it. Servants of Mystra are 
  to work against those who seek to restrict magic, 
  and humble or throw down those who seek to 
  use magic for tyranny. Yet they are also to make 
  sure that magic is alive everywhere—and used 
  for good as well as for evil and selfish reasons, so 
  that folk have some respite from brute force and 
  the sword, and so that succor does not become a 
  worse scourge than the sword it opposes.
   
  The Servants of Mystra are few, and in the 
  early 1300s DR they were so often attacked by evil 
  spellcasters, and by rulers or rebels seeking to cap-
  ture and control potent magic, that increasingly 
  they took to traveling in disguises. A common 
  disguise for Servants was as caravan merchants, 
  in trains full of ordinary traders who had no idea 
  who was in their midst. These Servants revealed 
  themselves only in private to spellcasters or to 
  those who had a gift for the Art but knew it not, or 
  knew not what to do with their abilities.
   
  So long as the Servants teach magic and spread 
  it, Mystra cares not if they pursue side projects or 
  hobbies, such as ruling small villages, founding or 
  joining families that rise to wealthy near-nobility 
  through their magical aid, or making themselves 
  rich through their magic. Several became reclu-
  sive rulers in the Border Kingdoms, but covertly 
  taught scores of people in upcountry Sembia 
  and the Vast to cast spells. Others did the same 
  in the Tashalar and around the Lake of Steam, 
  intending that no Calishite conqueror would suc-
  ceed in expanding into such areas without being 
  unexpectedly opposed by fierce magic. Mystra’s 
  Chosen meddled in politics on a grand scale, and 
  some of her lesser Servants have followed those 
  examples, seeking to curb rulers who use brawl-
  ing brawn in favor of those who respect magic and 
  use it wisely, not tyrannically. Others prefer to 
  work illusions to delight children and elders alike 
  around a campfire or in a tavern taproom.
  Nobanion, Lord Firemane
   
  Creed: The Lion God of Gulthmere decrees 
  that hunting must be done to eat or feed those 
  that one provides for—never for sport or mere 
  slaughter where the meat is wasted. True strength 
  lies in teamwork and compassion, protecting the 
  weak rather than bullying them. Live with the 
  land rather than against it. Seek not to tame, nor 
  to prolong suffering. Kill swiftly and cleanly. 
  Learn dignity and honor from the visions sent by 
  Nobanion. Make offerings to Nobanion by giv-
  ing hunted meat to the hungry. Lead rather than 
  command. Inspire by example, and do your own 
  hard and dirty work.
   
  Secular Aims: Priests of Nobanion are col-
  lectively and individually known as Nobanim, or 
  the Pride of Nobanion (not Prides, and never “the 
  Proud,” though their foes in the clergy of Malar 
  customarily call them so). They are charged to 
  disrupt and frustrate the practices of Malar when 
  they encounter them, scattering Malarite hunts 
  and rescuing the quarry whenever possible. They 
  are to demonstrate compassion rather than ruth-
  lessness, and are expected to be noble examples at 
  all times. Nobanim may not sell beasts nor break 
  them, though they may assist in the sort of ani-
  mal training where one animal (or a herd) teaches 
  another animal, rather than a human forcing an 
  animal into obedience. They are encouraged to 
  help breed, birth, and tend injured, sickly, and 
  very young or very old beasts. They are charged 
  to befriend animals and guide them to shelter, 
  their own kind, water, food, and a way out of a 
  place they no longer want to be. The Pride of 
  Nobanion are allowed to accept breeding fees 
  and payments for animal feed or grazing rights, 
  but water must always be given at no cost. They 
  can accept payment to tutor animal handlers and 
  trainers who work with animals rather than seek-
  ing to command them.
   
  Nobanim work to encourage views among 
  civilized Faerûnians that wild animals must be 
  allowed to share the Realms with society, not all 
  be tamed, eaten, or slain as monsters. In horse 
  breeding and ranching country, they encour-
  age the belief that some herds must be allowed to 
  roam free, providing stronger breeding stock for 
  domesticated herds to occasionally mingle with. 
  At least one Pride of Nobanion is the “Herdlord” 
  of a pack of mixed wild beasts in the Chondal-
  wood, where he hunts Malarites, leucrottas, and 
  hunters in his quest to prevent the Chondalwood 
  from being encroached upon by farmers, ranch-
  ers, and woodcutters.
   
  Most Nobanim have little use for grand homes, 
  possessions, or much coin. They live simply, close 
  to nature, and they prize vigor, clean water, good 
  food (much of it raw leaves, tubers, and nuts), and 
  the freedom to roam.
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  159
  Oghma, Lord of Knowledge
   
  Creed: Whether a member of the orthodox 
  church of Oghma or the Oghmanyte church in 
  exile, the two branches of the divided priesthood 
  of the Binder, a priest of Oghma is popularly 
  known as a Keeper. Orthodox Oghmanytes say 
  this is short for “Keepers of the Faith,” while their 
  rivals, the exiles, claim it’s an abbreviation for 
  “Keepers of Knowledge.” The schism occurred 
  over who was truly the true Grand Patriarch of 
  the faith, and a difference in outlook. The ortho-
  dox church places the highest value on recording 
  the past and analyzing records to “know all 
  that can be known about what is and has been,” 
  whereas the exiles hold that “knowledge of the 
  past is the key to the future,” and that it is unholy 
  not to make and continually refine predictions 
  and preparations based on that knowledge.
   
  “Active and passive,” some have termed these 
  two approaches, though Elminster warns this is 
  a gross oversimplification. Exiles were originally 
  centered in Sembia and later Cormyr, before relo-
  cating in the mid 1400s DR to Akanûl.
   
  One heresy—or true belief, depending on 
  one’s point of view—among Keepers is that the 
  Grand Patriarch who disappeared during the 
  Time of Troubles was hidden by Oghma himself 
  as a test of his clergy, to see if they would remain 
  true to the quest for uncovering and recording 
  knowledge, or would be tempted into the human 
  failings of power struggles and reinterpretations 
  of the faith.
    Secular Aims: Keepers of both branches of 
  the faith are formally known as Namers, and re-
  main charged to assemble and preserve written 
  knowledge—particularly ideas—and to share it 
  whenever possible. A priest must copy out valu-
  able written lore and give it away at least once 
  annually, and must teach others how to read 
  and write at no cost. As a source of income, one 
  may sell writing implements, maps, and written 
  lore, and give learned opinions, definitions, and 
  explanations in return for fees. Some sell and 
  make books of all sorts, including blank ones, 
  or provide “to order” writing services, covering 
  anything from love letters to advertisements, and 
  from formal business letters to torrid fiction for 
  personal entertainment.
   
  Namers encourage a love of reading, theater, 
  and music everywhere, and push for the social 
  and court acceptance of sages, bards, experts, ac-
  tors and performers, and researchers. Namers 
  might sponsor and be investment partners in pub-
  lishing endeavors, theaters, touring productions 
  and troupes, and scrivening businesses. A few, 
  located in larger cities, have done very well from 
  such livelihoods, including:
   
  Sartrove Kalisskryl of Athkatla
   
  Simbrew Archyne of Baldur’s Gate
   
  Erdrem Savallaskur of Calimport
   
  Tammurth Tarndrover of Iriaebor
   
  Dar Lassen of Ormpur
   
  Imreth Hyldohbrand of Procampur
   
  Danneth Trellbrand of Saradush
   
  Surue “Ladylore” Layvenvore of Saerloon
   
  Faerdar Ophardyn of Selgaunt
   
  The sisters Ilidue and Narlylle Jahnessper of 
  Silverymoon
   
  Ildor Marcownt of Tharsult
   
  Gordryn Haeront of Waterdeep
   
  Belaphar Saltune of Yhaunn
  Red Knight, Lady of Strategy
  Typical offerings on the altar of the Red Knight 
  are coins won in wagering over games of skill 
  (such as lanceboard, a version of chess) but never 
  in games of chance. The greatest possible offer-
  ings are new strategy games (board, pieces, and 
  rules) personally devised by the worshiper, pro-
  vided they are well designed.
   
  If such an offering is given in a temple, these 
  new games always vanish from the altar, taken by 
  the clergy, of course. If given in private, whether 
  in the open or at a shrine, the worshiper buries 
  the items along with a symbol of the goddess in 
  earth into which a single drop of his or her blood 
  has been spilled. (A crude horse-head chess piece 
  design scratched into a piece of bark or onto a 
  stone will suffice as a symbol, if nothing better 
  can be had.)
   
  It is sinful for the same worshiper to unearth 
  such things and reuse them as offerings, or for 
  other faithful of the Red Knight to knowingly 
  use the offerings of another in their own prayers 
  to the goddess. However, it’s quite acceptable to 
  use the offerings of others in different ways— 
  wagering with them, selling them, or giving 
  them away.
   
  Devout faithful of the Red Knight often have 
  scores of red horse-headed lanceboard pieces 
  
  Chapter 5
  160
  made for them to use as symbols in just such 
  situations. If nonclerical worshipers of the Red 
  Knight are traveling with a priest of the Lady of 
  Strategy and make prayers to the goddess, it is ac-
  ceptable for the priest to collect and carry along 
  all such offerings, meaning to turn them over to a 
  temple of the goddess at the first opportunity. If 
  doing this becomes impossible, such sacred goods 
  should be buried.
   
  Typical prayers to the Red Knight are whis-
  pered pleas for insight into the thinking of foes 
  and requests for inspiration, both when strategiz-
  ing. A true follower of the Red Knight believes 
  that all tactical thinking or dreams of battles and 
  battle strategies are bestowed by her. A devout 
  worshiper never takes credit for a brilliant strat-
  egy or tactic, believing such inspiration always 
  comes from the goddess.
   
  When a devout follower suffers defeat, over-
  looks some stratagem of an opponent, or is 
  outwitted, the follower typically makes an offer-
  ing to the goddess by procuring a shard of good 
  quality battle armor, gashing himself or herself 
  with it, and leaving the bloodied metal on the 
  altar with a prayer. The supplicant does not bind 
  the wound or seek healing for it until the prayer 
  is complete. Many worshipers of the Red Knight 
  take good armor from opponents they have per-
  sonally felled and shatter it, so as to have a ready 
  supply of such shards for times of failure.
   
  Great victories are celebrated by placing tro-
  phies of the defeated foes on an altar of the Red 
  Knight, accompanied by prayer. Such trophies 
  can be weapons, armor, or blood and body parts. 
  If no altar is handy, the prayer may be offered lit-
  erally on the body of the fallen, on the battlefield 
  or by the place of death.
   
  Prayers to the Red Knight often begin “O, 
  Lady of Clear Calm,” or “Great Lady of Armor 
  Blood-Red,” and the goddess betimes gives 
  long-worshiping individuals a secret name by 
  which they can call her. This name is imparted 
  in dreams and is different for every individual. 
  These names are not thought to be even echoes of 
  her true name, but rather personal tokens or pet 
  names symbolizing her favor of the individual.
   
  Formal priestly prayers often include the lines 
  “lady whose armor is drenched in blood for us,” 
  and “armor blooded to remind us of our faults 
  and defeats, but eyes bright to make us mindful 
  ever of unquenchable spirit and the battle mastery 
  of fields to come.”
  Selûne, the Moonmaiden
   
  Creed: Worship the moon and embrace moon-
  light. Fight darkness, evil, and those who shout 
  down the moon. Fight fell darkness in the forces 
  of Shar. And fight the Twisted (evil lycanthropes). 
  Call on the power of the moon’s magic and what 
  it “tells all in silence” (navigation). Dance in the 
  moonlight to the glory of the Moonmaiden. Pray 
  in the moonlight, for Our Lady of Silver gains 
  tangible power from prayers made to her at these 
  times. Meditate in the moonlight, for Selûne can 
  guide all who do, even if they do not venerate 
  her. And love in the moonlight, for the moon-
  conceived “have the moon alive within them” and 
  will cleave to the worship of Selûne.
   
  Secular Aims: So long as priests of Selûne 
  (popularly called Mooncloaks and formally called 
  Ladyservants) follow the creed, they are free 
  to make coin by any means they desire. These 
  sources of income can include wandering the 
  Realms leading worship under the moon and 
  accepting offerings, or weaving, shop keeping, 
  smithy work, or even farming in accordance with 
  the phases of the moon. They are particularly 
  valued as ship navigators and as guides through 
  forests and wild places by moonlit nights. Most 
  Mooncloaks are female humans, and they range 
  from barefoot-poor, rural, uneducated, brawny 
  farm girls to sophisticated, stylish urban nobil-
  ity. Most are content to make a comfortable living 
  rather than engaging in shady dealings in an ef-
  fort to get rich or rise in political power or social 
  influence. Clergy of Selûne regard being pushy as 
  poor form for anyone, not just fellow Mooncloaks.
   
  The Mooncloaks are more collegial than hi-
  erarchical, though they do have ranks, from 
  Postulants, who have expressed an interest in 
  serving Selûne but not yet been taught anything 
  about the faith, through Novices and Runrae 
  (roon-ray; singular Runra, meaning “simple 
  priest”), up through Alrunrae, Tenembrae, Sar-
  tembrae, Trintelrae (upperpriest), and Aumrae 
  (singular Aumra, akin to a bishop). Outranking 
  Aumrae are the Calunalae (cal-loon-ah-lay; sin-
  gular Calunala). These are independent agents 
  of the Moonmaiden who go their own way, talk 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  161
  RALPH HORSLEY
  often and personally with the goddess, and are 
  something akin to holy secret agents of Selûne.
   
  Aumrae and Calunalae can “go moonglow” if 
  they see the need: When an Aumra or a Calunala 
  is partly or wholly in moonlight, she can at will 
  instantly change into a glowing gaseous form for 
  as long as several minutes. A Calunala can also 
  call up moonblades. These moonblades, unlike 
  the famous elven swords of the same name, are 
  glowing swords of force-forged moonlight that 
  last for a minute or two at most. They strike si-
  lently, are weightless, and deal significant injury 
  to their targets on every hit.
   
  To become a Runra, a Novice is typically given 
  a small, simple task—an adventure the applicant 
  should be able to accomplish alone. If she acquits 
  herself well and is accepted by the goddess, who 
  will signal this acceptance by sending her a vi-
  sion in her dreams, she is thereafter a priest. Each 
  priests has normal holy duties plus two missions 
  at a time: something small assigned to her by a 
  higher-ranking Mooncloak and something greater 
  (and secret) that the goddess personally asks her 
  to do. Selûne often gives her Ladyservants tem-
  porary abilities or spells to aid them in carrying 
  out her missions, and Mooncloaks often lend their 
  services to other Mooncloaks to whom they’ve 
  given tasks. In the words of Calunala Alyzmra 
  Hantulgard of Everlund, “The Moon waxes and 
  wanes, and the fortunes of holy folk of the Moon 
  rise and fall—but the Moon is ever with us, sail-
  ing on no matter how dark the sky.”
  Shar, Mistress of the Night
  The Lady of Loss has always dealt in fear of the 
  dark and the unknown, and she offers alluring 
  guidance to those lost in grief or poverty. She 
  whispers suggestions in the dreams of mortals, 
  appearing in their visions as tall, beautiful, and 
  unclad, but more than half-hidden by darkness 
  and her swirling hair. Her hair moves at her bid-
  ding, slithering, clinging, and coiling like a den 
  of serpents, not in response to gravity or breezes. 
  Above a battlefield strewn with bodies, the Lady of Strategy appears—her aspect bearing a striking resemblance to her symbol.  When a 
  master stroke of strategy is needed to win the day, nothing can inspire the followers of the Red Knight more than her presence.
  
  Chapter 5
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  Even when enraged, she hisses or speaks very 
  softly; she never shouts. She is cold silence and 
  soft menace, not storming or bragging.
   
  Yet Shar can be frightening indeed. She sends 
  the severed heads of humans flying silently out 
  into the night to watch and listen, seeing and 
  sometimes speaking through them. She needs 
  humans, for human suffering is her sustenance. 
  When she feeds, she takes the misery from those 
  she feeds on, leaving them temporarily uplifted, 
  and in this way gains faithful who revere her. 
  She calms the mad and brings them silent seren-
  ity—for a time. She sees all mortals as tools, to be 
  cast aside when she tires of them, no matter how 
  powerful they have become in her service, for all 
  should know loss—every mortal, and Shar herself. 
  So, if she uses Shade and its princes as her tools 
  now, there will come a day when she destroys 
  them utterly, in favor of someone much weaker 
  and very different. For that is the way of Shar. 
  She is no tyrant, to build dark empires. That is 
  Bane’s delight, and Bane’s work. She is Shar, the 
  Lady of Loss and oblivion.
   
  In her words, “Out of the darkness we all come, 
  and to the darkness we all return. Some swifter 
  than others, and many not swiftly enough.”
   
  In homage to the Dark Goddess, some Sharran 
  clergy of both genders walk by night unclad ex-
  cept for magical nightcloaks and their own long 
  hair. These cloaks are actually garments that en-
  able flight and can mute any sound around them 
  when willed to do so. A priest’s hair is sometimes 
  natural, and sometimes a wig of the braided 
  hair of many others, enspelled so the tresses can 
  carry daggers, small lanterns, and other items of 
  like size and weight, as well as catch and cling 
  to things. These enchanted wigs are not strong 
  enough to hold the wearer’s body weight, but they 
  could, for example curl around a branch while 
  maintaining hold of a lit lamp, so the cleric can 
  part company with the wig and do something in 
  the lamplight.
   
  A cleric of Shar undergoing penance or being 
  punished by a superior might go around lit by 
  magical light cast on him or her for a day or sev-
  eral. “The darkness is for those who deserve it.”
   
  Creed: Darkness is your cloak and your spur 
  to action. Strike down the moon and those who 
  serve it, and work against laws and law keepers, 
  rulers and the powerful, by corrupting them and 
  sewing dissension. Weave discord through secrets 
  and rumors and falsehoods, so that all that is now 
  mighty shall in time be swept away, and all that 
  will remain is the darkness of Shar. Work in secret 
  when necessary, obey your superiors in the Night 
  Church without question or defiance, and give 
  your life when Shar deems it needful, for you will 
  reap her Dark Reward.
   
  Secular Aims: The Night Church works in 
  secret in many parts of the Realms where it is for-
  bidden, such as Cormyr, the Dales, Waterdeep, 
  Baldur’s Gate, and Amn. The places it can show 
  itself in the open include Calaunt, Mulmaster, 
  Scornubel, Sembia, and Westgate. Sharran priests 
  are popularly known as Darshars (a corruption 
  of “Dark Sharran”), but they refer to themselves 
  as Martyrs, because their lives are forfeit to Shar, 
  whom they know will eventually claim the ex-
  istences they owe her—probably sooner rather 
  than later.
   
  Popular belief has it that Shar is malicious 
  (true), ever-present (true), and an implacable, 
  nigh-unbeatable force of evil—which is false, as 
  many priests, worshipers, and allies of Shar have 
  learned at their personal cost. The Dark God-
  dess is fickle and has repeatedly turned on or 
  abandoned hitherto-favorite agents. Those who 
  flourish under her support, such as the princes of 
  Shade, might suddenly find it withdrawn, or even 
  used against them. Shar is, after all, the goddess 
  of loss, and she delights in reminding mortals 
  never to rely on anyone or anything, lest a painful 
  price be paid all too soon.
   
  The “Dark Reward” her senior clergy promise 
  is the prospect of being raised as a undead—usu-
  ally a lesser undead—under the control of the 
  Martyrs. Sometimes Shar prizes especially capa-
  ble and accomplished priests of the faith enough 
  to bring them back to life augmented in some 
  way. Usually such priests, called Shadowed, gain 
  a short-term ability to become invisible or assume 
  a gaseous form, but are marred by having a black 
  talon for a hand, or a short black serpent’s tail 
  in addition to their legs. All such individuals are 
  greatly feared within the clergy. They universally 
  return bearing jet-black eyes without whites or 
  irises, and voices that are hoarse, cold whispers.
   
  Priests of the Night Church are encouraged 
  to sow discord and weaken order and respect for 
  laws. They do this by abetting rebels; murdering 
  peacemakers, trade negotiators, and accomplished 
  diplomats; goading those engaged in feuds into 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  163
  BETH TROTT
  deeper bloodshed; and spreading hatred-of-
  outlander rumors. Those they kill should always 
  know they are being slain in the name of Shar, not 
  taken when asleep or unawares. Indeed, if these 
  deaths aren’t intended to foment strife by being 
  mistaken for the work of someone else, Martyrs 
  write the name of Shar in the victim’s blood be-
  side the body.
   
  Martyrs often travel the Realms posing as 
  merchants, refugees, or pilgrims of another faith. 
  Although their eventual fate depends on how well 
  they have pleased Shar before they die, nothing 
  in Shar’s commandments or the Night Church’s 
  doctrine bars priests of Shar from stealing, ban-
  ditry, murder for gain, smuggling, or any other 
  legitimate or illicit business dealings. They are 
  free to enrich themselves throughout their vowed 
  service to the Lady of Night as they see fit. Using 
  pawns, such as rebels or discontented guilds, 
  and hiring “talons” (often adventurers) to aid 
  in the work of the Night Church is considered 
  good form, not cheating or a sign of weakness. 
  As a result, many Martyrs have made scapegoats 
  of hundreds of people, and have amassed vast 
  fortunes in lands and property—most of which 
  they don’t have time to enjoy before death greets 
  them (and Shar sends someone else to use what 
  they gained). In any land or city where Shar can 
  be worshiped openly, her clergy are forbidden to 
  work against the ruler and the law keepers—but 
  everywhere else in the Realms, in ways great 
  and small, Martyrs of Shar are at work to stir up 
  dissent, dethrone kings, and sow cynicism and 
  disrespect for principles, authority, and “the way 
  things are.”
   
  Some notoriously successful Martyrs are out-
  lined below.
   
  Rortryn Waend: An accomplished actor and 
  murderer, usually based in Athkatla, later in 
  Crimmor.
   
  Crella “Cruel” Lannathond: A former dancer, 
  based in Yhaunn, who usually poses as a travel-
  ing vendor selling scents and flashy “revelwear” 
  clothing, and who is an expert at passing 
  The Martyrs who devote their lives to Shar receive considerable blessings from their goddess in return. This priestess has the ability to 
  reach into a realm of darkness and pull forth a hideous creature to do her bidding.
  
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  164
  information to and from Martyrs and Night 
  Church allies and spies. Lannathond covertly 
  dabbles in politics wherever she goes.
   
  Abran Dathengar: A retired veteran soldier of 
  Tethyr now based in Saradush. Darthengar is an 
  enforcer within the Night Church who also fol-
  lows up against foes who have defeated or escaped 
  Martyrs that were sent after them.
   
  Dracol Havnor: A cool-headed, acrobatic, and 
  stealthy skilled slayer and master trap maker who 
  has killed many courtiers—and even more adven-
  turers who were hired to eliminate him.
  Shaundakul, the Helping 
  Hand
   
  Creed: Guide the lost and the uncertain, 
  widely share all you know of hidden places, and 
  fight against the loathsome servants and works 
  of Beshaba and Shar. Visit all the shrines of 
  Shaundakul in your life, tend them and worship 
  at them, and encourage others to do so as well. 
  Build new shrines where it seems right, by the 
  divine signs sent to you. Find, repair, and master 
  portals and learn their destinations. No matter 
  what the weather or the perils, bring common folk 
  safely back home.
   
  Secular Aims: Priests of the Helping Hand 
  are popularly known as Windriders after the an-
  nual holy rite of the Windride, when they all take 
  gaseous form for a day. However, they call them-
  selves Seekers of the Trail or more often, simply 
  Seekers.
   
  Seekers live off the land, hunting and gather-
  ing as they need, and are allowed to work for fees 
  so long as they keep traveling. Many hire on as 
  guides and guards for adventurers, caravans, pil-
  grims, explorers, and prospectors—or become 
  explorers and trail makers for various costers and 
  rulers.
   
  Many Seekers sell accurate-as-possible maps 
  of trade routes, ways through mountains, and 
  even the layouts of castles and palaces with their 
  known secret rooms and passages marked. They 
  also sell maps of short underground routes, such 
  as the cellars of ruins, catacombs and sewers 
  under cities, and “merchants’ shortcuts” in the 
  Underdark. As one Seeker, Thal Pevrem of Ber-
  dusk, put it, “My telling you a route is free, but if 
  you want a map, it’ll cost you coins.”
   
  Seekers give maps and information regarding 
  portals reluctantly and in small amounts. They 
  will give out only one portal link at a time—that 
  is, one portal and its destination—and only for a 
  very high price. Before giving such information, 
  Seekers need to know those who seek it don’t plan 
  to do anything that would harm a portal, or that 
  would force a ruler or a powerful organization to 
  move to destroy, magically seal, or stand heavy 
  guard over a portal.
   
  For a time, foes of the faith cast magical traps 
  on portals to make them dangerous to Seekers, 
  but this deterrent moved Shaundakul to grant his 
  clergy special abilities. Seekers can now merge 
  with the magic of a portal and hide within one 
  indefinitely, use its energies to heal and restore 
  themselves, and “ride through” the harm of any 
  portal traps simply by being part of the magic of 
  the portal.
   
  Rumors have recently risen that every shrine to 
  Shaundakul incorporates an underground shelter 
  room with basic provisions (true) and has a por-
  tal nearby (not true, yet). As Seekers know, there 
  are plans to expand the portals of the Realms 
  into a vast network—but not until the church is 
  powerful enough to defend it against any conceiv-
  able foe, such as illithids, beholders, dragons, or 
  the priesthood of an evil god. Therefore, as any 
  Seeker will ruefully admit, “Such a dream will be 
  no more than a dream for a long, long while yet. 
  In terms of years, several thousands. Or more.”
  Siamorphe, the Noble
   
  Creed: Instruct royalty and nobility in the 
  right way of conducting themselves—not mere 
  etiquette, but the manner in which they should 
  think, speak, and plan ahead. Do this so they will 
  rule well, support good decisions, and oppose bad 
  ones so as to bring about correction rather than 
  dissension or strife. Support nobility and royalty 
  in their times of doubt, grief, and need, and bring 
  them into the company of wise counsel wherever 
  you can’t provide it. Seek to prevent them from 
  making dire mistakes that lead to widespread dis-
  satisfaction, rejection of royalty or nobility, or 
  war. With the divine right to rule comes great re-
  sponsibility, and great rulers supported by great 
  nobility can lift a realm so that its citizens high 
  and low enjoy better lives. See that this happens 
  often and wherever possible.
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  165
   
  Secular Aims: The clergy of Siamorphe 
  (see-ah-morf) have never been numerous. They 
  usually come from the ranks of older nobles and 
  courtiers throughout the Heartlands, the North, 
  and all the lands around the Shining Sea except 
  for Calimshan. Known as Scions, they sometimes 
  serve as court viziers and sages, but more often 
  attach themselves to rulers or noble matriarchs 
  and patriarchs as secular, practical, and ethi-
  cal spiritual advisors. More than one Scion has 
  sprung into action as a bodyguard, or even imper-
  sonated a ruler or a noble when an assassination 
  attempt was likely. Scions represent what is good, 
  steadfast, and truly noble about nobility, rather 
  than the decadence, pride, folly, and corruption 
  that all too often creep in after generations of 
  privilege. Faerûn has seen its share of corrupt ad-
  visors and courtiers, many of them even agents of 
  a ruler’s foes, and Scions try to expose such false 
  advisors as well as to provide a balance against 
  those corrupt advisors they can’t touch or haven’t 
  yet discovered.
   
  The church of Divine Right has kept rulers 
  on thrones and enabled nobles to be tolerated far 
  more than they would be otherwise, and has led 
  to better governing and better lives for the gov-
  erned throughout the 1300s and into the 1400s 
  DR. As the years pass, its reach and interests 
  grow steadily to encompass noble houses and rul-
  ing courts far from its bases in Waterdeep and 
  Tethyr.
   
  As of 1359 DR, Siamorphe is incarnate as the 
  former Lady Durndatha Greatgaunt of Cormyr, a 
  gruff, crusty “hunting, riding, and reveling” sort 
  who married Lord Harmantle Helmfast of Water-
  deep in 1357 DR and so became Lady Helmfast. 
  She was poisoned by a Zhentarim agent a year 
  later, but exposed her slayer—the wizard Ultcan-
  tle—and foiled his plot to poison wine in many 
  noble wine cellars across north Waterdeep rather 
  than seeking help for the poison that ultimately 
  slew her.
   
  As of 1360 DR, her ablest Scions include the 
  following individuals.
   
  Darlynd Immur: The retired former High Vi-
  zier of Tashluta, Immur is an advisor to the 
  Rowanmantles, and fleetingly, from time to time, 
  to various Obarskyrs and senior courtiers of 
  Cormyr.
   
  Melvurth Horncasset: A pompous, prissy, thin-
  as-a-spear veteran courtier from Zazesspur, 
  Horncasset knows every court dodge, is a shrewd 
  judge of human nature, and has a secret wild 
  talent: From time to time, unreliably and in-
  termittently, he can read snatches of the inner 
  thoughts of individuals he is either alone in a 
  room with, or close enough to touch. This talent 
  allows him to utter particular remarks, “hear” 
  the thoughts they evoke, and sometimes thereby 
  know the true loyalties or intentions of someone.
   
  Ilmurra Tarlhawk: A vivacious escort who works 
  for the palace in Waterdeep, Tarlhawk is a superb 
  thespian and a very good sympathetic listener and 
  spy who can manipulate and befriend effortlessly. 
  Cynical and world-wise, she smells deceit and 
  spots most schemes and ploys the moment they’re 
  launched—yet sees in her holy work the salvation 
  Faerûn needs. She tirelessly strives to inform, 
  improve, and support nobles, urging them to do 
  better and think better for the benefit of all.
   
  Felvor Elcaskur: Elcaskur is descended from 
  a noble of Tethyr who escaped the Black Days 
  (the start of the Tethyrian civil wat, in 1347 DR), 
  changed his name and—with magical aid—his 
  face, and fled to Waterdeep to live out his days as 
  a seneschal to the Waterdhavian noble family of 
  Kormallis. Elcaskur grew up knowing all about 
  the gossip and peccadilloes of the nobles of Wa-
  terdeep. He knows who owes whom favors, who’s 
  feuding or just quarreling with whom, and how 
  to delicately negotiate ways to strengthen friend-
  ships, improve relationships, and deepen ethics 
  among the nobility.
  Silvanus, Oak Father
   
  Creed: Maintain the sacred Balance, the natu-
  ral cycle of life. Work against those who disturb 
  the Balance and make others see it more clearly. 
  Prevent the felling of forests, fight disease, and 
  plant anew the sylvan green growing things, daily 
  if possible. Seek, befriend, and serve dryads, and 
  guard the forests by seeing threats, anticipating 
  what lies ahead, and quietly manipulating. Use 
  violence only when necessary. Be vigilant against 
  fire, woodcutters, and other despoilers of the 
  wild, and limit farms and ranches to land already 
  cleared. Fight those who do the bidding of Malar 
  and others who threaten forests. Work to deepen 
  your understanding of the Balance and of the 
  lives of all growing things.
  
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  166
   
  Secular Aims: The Forest Father gives his 
  clergy simple, firm dictates, but allows much per-
  sonal leeway in his priests’ lives, so long as the 
  activity engaged in deepens one’s understand-
  ing of life. For instance, a Silvanite could assist a 
  farmer in his egg-selling business, or attend the 
  butchering of a boar, or help in a human child-
  birth, all to learn more about life in one of its 
  many forms.
   
  Silvanite clergy have been called Forest Mas-
  ters or even Staglords, but they prefer to call 
  themselves Tenders of the Forest, Balancers, or 
  Oakservants—the last of which has been gaining 
  popularity steadily as the years pass. Priests of 
  the Oak Father work with woodcutters to mini-
  mize the felling of good trees and the clearing 
  of land, in favor of removing diseased trees and 
  selectively thinning a forest to open it up to the 
  sun. They often teach or compel woodcutters to 
  replant as they cut, and see a forest as a “slow 
  farm” to be tended and harvested over decades, 
  rather than a waiting woodpile to be cut from the 
  outside in. Oakservants sometimes go into busi-
  ness with others to produce platter candles, which 
  are multiple-wick, slow-burning candles as wide 
  as a platter, lit for warmth as well as for light. 
  They also collaborate to make peat and manure 
  cakes, charcoal (from downed wood), flammable 
  oils, and other alternative fuels for cities. All of 
  this manufacturing is meant to lower the de-
  mand for firewood. Others work with dryads and 
  other forest folk to compel and control dangerous 
  beasts, such as wolves, owlbears, and the like, that 
  prowl forest verges. Their presence helps bolster 
  local beliefs that forests are dangerous, monster-
  roamed places best to be avoided rather than 
  casually invaded for foraging.
   
  Oakservants are encouraged to magically take 
  beast shape or tree shape from time to time, so 
  that each can experience the forest more fully and 
  come to know it better. Many of them hide in the 
  forest this way to evade enemies or to be alone to 
  think or deal with grief, or to await and entrap or 
  eavesdrop on foes.
   
  Oakservants are responsible for some of the 
  “underglass” (greenhouse) and hanging-basket 
  and window-box gardening fashions in cities. 
  These city gardens are meant to help with food 
  production, and therefore reduce the incidence 
  of new farms and forest-clearing operations. This 
  is the only way in which Oakservants will deal 
  directly with the influential and powerful; they 
  shun any wider political involvement. In places 
  such as Cormyr and Tethyr that have active rural 
  nobility, Oakservants encourage boar and stag 
  hunting in the woods, because they know that 
  those nobility who own such territory and indulge 
  in such hunting will fight to protect or even ex-
  pand their woodlands.
  Sune, Lady Firehair
   
  Creed: True love wins all, and so love should 
  be encouraged everywhere—for people, for beauty 
  and the arts, for hobbies, and for well-done 
   accomplishments. Foster attraction, allure, and 
  the display of beauty. Perform a loving act every 
  day, and acquire things of beauty not to keep for 
  private enjoyment, but to share and display. Move 
  beautifully, dress beautifully, and meet others 
  with warm affection that deepens into friendship, 
  respect that deepens into admiration, and flir-
  tation that deepens into romance that becomes 
  love. Let all of this behavior be genuine, for true 
  beauty is found inside rather than in the artifice 
  of outward display.
   
  Secular Aims: Sune (soon or soon-ay; the lat-
  ter is more recent and rarer) expects her clergy to 
  guide others to follow her creed as well as follow 
  it themselves. As such, they’re called Heart-
  guides. In a similar fashion, the upperpriests are 
  known as Heartwardens, and the high priest is 
  the Heartwarder. Sunite clergy network very well, 
  having many friends to whom they offer support 
  and loyalty. They are valued partners in any busi-
  nesses concerned with fashion, such as garments 
  and accessories as well as those involving body 
  enhancement, such as corsets and other reshap-
  ing foundation garments, scents, cosmetics and 
  adornment paints, and jewelry. They also aid 
  businesses concerned with dance and “carriage” 
  (gait and stance), etiquette, singing, and voice 
  control, and they have established themselves 
  in many businesses that provide provender and 
  “dressing” (props and transformations) for revels, 
  feasts, and more intimate gatherings. Especially 
  in larger urban areas, some Heartguides enjoy 
  great financial success as a result of such work. 
  Thanks to their winning ways and extensive net-
  works of friends, ever since 1349 DR onward they 
  have even been hired for lucrative but short stints 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  167
  HOWARD LYON
  to spread word of new wares and artists of note 
  and to sway public attitudes or political initiatives. 
   
  Heartguides tithe twenty percent of all they 
  make to the church of Lady Firehair to maintain 
  temples, to aid other Heartguides in displaying 
  themselves to their best advantage, and to make 
  temple rituals as attractive and popular as pos-
  sible. Some of those tithes go toward embellishing 
  rituals with moving song performances, dances, 
  and prayers accompanied by lush instrumental 
  music. Most Sunite clergy live a high lifestyle, 
  spending lavishly and never accumulating all 
  that much—but never needing it. The church is 
  charged to provide shelter, nursing, and food for 
  its elderly, ill, or maimed members, and later to 
  tend their (beautiful) graves, usually in remote 
  (but sometimes inner-city) “Goldenrest” monas-
  teries—and it diligently does so.
  Talona, Lady of Poison
   
  Creed: Pain is pleasure, and although poison-
  ings, disease, and plagues are natural and should 
  be embraced rather than feared or avoided, what 
  is important is not that they slay, but that to be 
  fully alive one must experience their ravagings, 
  disfigurements, and painful effects. A poison that 
  slays swiftly or instantly, particularly one that 
  plunges its victim into torpor or sleep, is worth-
  less and should be despised. Poisons should creep 
  slowly, so that victims feel and know their effect. 
  Likewise disease and plague should work slowly, 
  for the true glory of life is respected and experi-
  enced only by those fighting to keep it—not those 
  who in robust health unthinkingly expend it. 
  Spread poison, disease, and plague in the name 
  of Talona, and let others know that it is the power 
  and grace of Talona that sickens them and that 
  may let them survive.
   
  Secular Aims: Talonite (or Talonar; both 
  terms are widely used) clergy are widely feared, 
  An Oakservant of Silvanus, on patrol in the forest she tends, happens upon a priestess of Sune who has chosen this spot to perform a 
  prayer and a dance to celebrate her deity. Fancy meeting you here, indeed!
  
  Chapter 5
  168
  hated, and shunned. They are known as Ter-
  rors and sometimes Walking Plagues. Terrors are 
  often attacked by fearful people using polearms 
  or missiles, to drive them away or keep them at 
  bay. Such attacks are always done from afar for 
  fear of getting too close to the Terrors’ poisoned 
  daggers or any diseases that Terrors carry. It’s 
  widely known that Terrors covertly spread disease 
  and seek new blights and afflictions to spread 
  to regions that haven’t yet known them—and so 
  will be ripe for succumbing to them. They are 
  readily recognized because it is a holy custom for 
  Talonar to dress in ragged robes and to scar or 
  disfigure themselves. This disfigurement is usu-
  ally done by cutting, burning, or the use of acid, 
  but the holiest way is to introduce a disease to do 
  its work—a purpose for which leprosy is popular. 
  As a result, some Terrors pose as beggars so as 
  to move around unidentified, or else don masks 
  or disguises, or use magic to conceal their true 
  nature. Most Talonite priests carry multiple poi-
  soned daggers or needles at various places on 
  their persons. At least one of these weapons bears 
  a fast-acting poison for personal defense, but most 
  impart slow-acting poisons that cause convul-
  sions, loss of balance, and intense internal pain. 
  Talonar also carry small drawstring bags contain-
  ing dusts, dead skin, and other disease-carrying 
  substances for deliberate “blight sowing.”
   
  Most Talonars are expert poisoners and have 
  a high natural resistance to diseases and poisons 
  thanks to repeated exposure. This resistance en-
  ables them to drink the same poisoned wine as 
  others without ill effects, even when other drink-
  ers are stricken or slain.
   
  Terrors are allowed by Talona’s decree to seize 
  and use all property, from coins to land, that they 
  gain from victims, though they usually have to 
  fight secular claims for such property from heirs 
  or co-owners. Most of them make an income in 
  this way, though their lives are never idle or easy. 
  Fanatical Talonar have often sought to poison 
  wells and work other widespread afflictions, but 
  the Lady of Poison frowns upon such impersonal 
  reverences, strongly preferring a one-on-one ap-
  proach in which the victim is made aware that 
  Talona is involved.
   
  The church of Talona is secretive and under-
  ground in most places. Impromptu altars are 
  often the deathbeds or graves of victims who suc-
  cumbed to poison, disease, or plague delivered 
  in the name of the goddess. Terrors roam the 
  Realms tirelessly doing Talona’s work, and have 
  little need for large or elaborate temples. How-
  ever, most cities contain a hidden cellar or “upper 
  room” temple inside or beneath buildings used 
  for other purposes. There are large and public 
  temples of Talona in Scornubel, Arrabar, and Ca-
  launt. The main temple of the faith is the House 
  of Night’s Embrace, in Tashluta. Within its dark, 
  soaring-spired walls, injured Terrors are nursed 
  and sometimes augmented with grafted-on beast 
  body parts, or with features from people who died 
  or were dying from “Talona’s Gifts” (poison, dis-
  ease, and plague).
   
  Infamous veteran Terrors who have accom-
  plished much include these individuals.
   
  Saldrissa Vauntyr: A beautiful, alluring seduc-
  tress whose skin looks scaled like that of a snake 
  or a yuan-ti thanks to a rare disease. Vauntyr 
  makes much use of poison when romancing 
  nobles and wealthy merchants—whom she then 
  relieves of a lot of wealth. She’s immune to most 
  poisons, and has assembled a small arsenal of 
  magic items from her victims, which she doesn’t 
  hesitate to use. When she travels the Realms, she 
  usually hires evil adventurers as her bodyguards.
   
  Hauldron Lethur: A jovial, healthy-seeming, en-
  ergetic traveling trader who buys and sells up and 
  down the Sword Coast and along the Heartlands 
  caravan routes. Lethur passes on diseases with ca-
  sual ease. When threatened he resorts to poisoned 
  weapons (often his sharpened fingernails) and in-
  vokes Talona’s name triumphantly.
   
  Yawsravin Nilmurt: A plunderer of the fallen 
  who goes from battlefield to armed skirmish to 
  local brawl seeking wounded and dead he can 
  relieve of goods and wealth. He spreads disease 
  to others as he works, and he is not above pro-
  voking tense situations or brewing hatred into 
  open conflict that he can then exploit. For over 
  four decades he has wandered the Inner Sea and 
  Heartlands overland trade route regions, yellow-
  smilingly doing this dirty work.
  Talos, the Storm Lord
   
  Creed: Obey every bidding or sign of Talos. 
  His voice speaks in the howling winds, his face 
  and hands appear in storm clouds and your 
  dreams, and his lightning bolts point the way. 
  Destroy order, destroy crops, and destroy bridges 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  169
  and buildings and the monuments of other 
  gods, preferably with wind, rain, hail, and light-
  ning. Use your magic to aid forest fires and hard 
  freezes. Breach walls and split roofs as storms 
  approach, so that natural fury can enter and sun-
  der those no-longer-secure shelters. Sow fear of 
  Talos as you sow destruction. Destroy something 
  every day.
   
  Secular Aims: The Storm Lord expects his 
  clergy to stroll naked through a storm once a 
  season, to feel its full fury and so become closer 
  to Talos, renewed and purified as mundane 
  concerns and distractions are swept away. He 
  understands that humans need to have moments 
  of relaxation and enjoyment, and to gloat over 
  achievements. For this reason, the Storm Lord al-
  lows his clergy to reap material rewards, such as 
  plundered wine or coin they can use to purchase 
  luxuries and indulgences, and to take some time 
  off between actively destroying things. Talossan 
  priests are expected to personally profit from their 
  deeds, and they need not share anything—though 
  more powerful priests of the faith may take from 
  them, and this too is deemed proper by Talos.
   
  Talossan clergy are known as Stormher-
  alds, Stormbringers, or Devastators, but they 
  call themselves Tempests. They have no formal 
  hierarchy; powerful veterans coerce younger-in-
  service Tempests if they can.
   
  Like Cyricists and Sharran clergy, the small 
  and disorganized church of Talos works to foment 
  chaos; to challenge or weaken respect for author-
  ity, laws, and law keepers; and to smash things, 
  large and small, from glass bottles drying for 
  reuse to castle walls and towers.
   
  Tempests are well aware that the “mad keen” 
  among them, those who slaughter and smash 
  wildly and constantly as they travel, are soon 
  ganged up on by increasingly fearful neighbor-
  ing folk, and soon eliminated. So most Tempests 
  prefer to fulfill the “destroy something every day” 
  commandment by crushing insects or shredding 
  weeds, and then spend they spend the remain-
  der of their day living more reasonably. Doing 
  this enables them to live undetected as they wait 
  and plan for prize targets they can spectacularly 
  shatter or bring down. The best incidents of holy 
  destruction are those perpetrated by a Tempest 
  who can then seize wealth and move on without 
  being pursued by infuriated witnesses or the vic-
  tims of their destruction.
   
  Many Tempests live in idle luxury wherever 
  they fled to after their latest sacred deed of de-
  struction. Here they await chances to do great 
  public destruction, such as burning down a tem-
  ple or a town hall, before moving on again.
   
  In early spring, when mercantile trade routes 
  open up, and again in late autumn occur a num-
  ber of large festivals and trade gatherings. These 
  events often draw many Tempests, each working 
  alone and perhaps unaware of others’ presence, 
  to try to cause ship collisions, explosions, fires, 
  and ruinous storms. They falsely blame others 
  and start disquieting rumors in the hopes of caus-
  ing strife and confusion so that they can steal 
  what they may. They might get in each other’s 
  way in such situations, and in such cases must 
  obey the will of Talos that a Tempest not deliber-
  ately attack or harm another Tempest. However, 
  a Tempest may, by invoking the name of Talos, 
  prevent another Tempest from doing or taking 
  something. Tempests might also suffer competi-
  tion in thieving from the clergy of Mask or others, 
  but Talos is well satisfied if they frustrate or do 
  harm to such persons.
   
  Infamously successful Tempests of the latter 
  half of the 1300s DR include these people.
   
  Cauldreth Hallowsar: Hallowsar is a gaunt 
  man who wears an eye patch in honor of Talos—
  though he can see perfectly well out of both eyes 
  and from time to time shifts the patch from one 
  eye to the other. Hallowsar prefers to dress in 
  ragged black and wears long, sweeping cloaks. 
  He eats little and drinks prodigiously, and yet 
  seldom becomes drunk. An accomplished actor 
  and swindler with a deft touch when it comes to 
  manipulating others into feuds or open defiance 
  of authority, Hallowsar often uses sleep spells, 
  smoke bombs, and arson as distractions to get 
  away from sticky situations.
   
  Rhoawne Silmer: A honey-blonde, petite woman 
  who looks, acts, and dresses much younger than 
  her years, Silmer is often mistaken for a naïve 
  youngling. She flirts and manipulates men into 
  doing her bidding and makes extensive use of 
  Talos-stars—little bombs made of old helms 
  or buckets filled with smokepowder and small, 
  spiked metal balls. Silmer deftly uses them to kill 
  people, breach vaults and doors, and otherwise 
  reach coins and gems. She has amassed fortunes 
  in this manner and cached her wealth in small 
  hidden places all over Faerûn.
  
  Chapter 5
  170
   
  Halauntra Qeszen: This tall, raven-haired 
  beauty usually plays the part of a haughty, icy, 
  traveling noblewoman who can defend herself 
  with four magic flying daggers she can unleash. 
  She cows many would-be foes or harassers by 
  revealing a talking skull she stole from a wizard 
  long ago, which she uses to make folk think that 
  either she has magic enough to compel and con-
  trol—or that it’s her uncle and a lich of mighty 
  powers. She likes to identify key persons of au-
  thority in a village or town, murder them, take 
  what wealth she can, and move on, using storm 
  magic to frustrate any pursuit.
  Tempus, Lord of Battles
  The clergy of the Wargod are weapon tutors to 
  the world. They are the priesthood to visit for free 
  weapon training and advice on the care of weap-
  ons. Most temples of Tempus also maintain and 
  repair weapons, as well as sell new ones, but they 
  charge fees for these services: Weapons are full 
  price plus 1 sp, and repairs are up to half the price 
  of a new, finely made weapon.
   
  An unofficial but common priestly saying, 
  often mocked by those opposed to the faith of the 
  Wargod is “We come in peace: smite to slay!”
   
  More official and equally common priestly say-
  ings are these:
   
  “A battle-death is a holy ending!” A common 
  proverb, this saying is the reason why devout wor-
  shipers of Tempus salute corpses, burials, and 
  graves with murmurs of “holy ending.”
   
  “Laws are but words until blood is shed for 
  them.”
   
  “Men fall, but Tempus rises!” This proverb 
  originated in an older saying: “Men fall, but Tem-
  pus rides on!”
   
  “Nothing is truth that has not been tested in 
  battle.”
   
  “Peace stands on a sharp sword.”
   
  “The sun rises out of blood and sets into blood, 
  and all the time between belongs to the Lord of 
  Battles.”
  While fighting to defend Shadowdale from one 
  of the innumerable Zhent attacks, some of the 
  Knights of Myth Drannor ended up swinging 
  swords alongside a wandering priest of Tem-
  pus, a grim and aging man who sported an eye 
  patch and wore chainmail adorned all over with 
  welded-on sword tips taken from the weapons of 
  foes he had slain in battle. When he struck at op-
  ponents, he often shouted one of a few seemingly 
  obscure phrases: “By the bright blood of Tham-
  maera!” or “By the sweet limbs of Brelindra!” 
  or “By the proud beauty of Sannandra!” When 
  asked what those phrases meant, he explained 
  that he was dedicating his attack to close friends 
  he’d had among the clergy of Tempus, who were 
  now either dead or “Broken Blades” (too disabled 
  to fight in the field for the god themselves), and so 
  could no longer deliver such attacks themselves.
   
  Creed: Show no fear, make no reckless war, 
  and obey the warriors’ code of battle as decreed 
  by Tempus. Evade no fight, yet harm not clergy 
  who without violence work for peace—as without 
  peace, the full fury of war cannot be appreciated 
  and its rewards cannot be seen. Wanton butch-
  ery is unholy. Fight for a clear purpose, and with 
  discipline and a formal challenge. Treat prison-
  ers properly, show mercy to noncombatants, and 
  plunder only what is needful, such as food and 
  water. Destruction for its own sake is foolish; 
  never vandalize, pillage, or rape. Confront-
  ing a foe with weapons is preferable to tricking 
  an enemy, and hard bargaining with bloodshed 
  averted is better than attacking without parley. 
  Fight for a cause, and let no bully cozen you into 
  surrendering for an ill reason.
   
  Secular Aims: The Lord of Battles calls 
  upon his clergy to accompany active combatants 
  everywhere in the Realms, that his creed might 
  be respected and followed. Tempuran clergy call 
  themselves Hammers, from “the small, ham-
  mering hands of the Foehammer,” as Brom 
  Bellowharl, a famous long-ago priest of Tempus, 
  once described the priesthood.
   
  The church of the Foehammer is organized in 
  a strict hierarchy, and its temples are fortresses. 
  Each temple is a stout, stone, castle-like building 
  with well-stocked armories. Each is built to be de-
  fended by a few Hammers against many foes, and 
  features portcullises, multiple sets of doors, firing 
  ports overlooking all entrances, and passages that 
  make abrupt turns so defenders can shelter be-
  hind corners.
   
  Hammers all have specific ranks, and ceremo-
  nial armor is crafted with clear rank differences. 
  Acolytes wear leather jacks and baldrics, Stalwarts 
  (priests) wear chainmail vestments, Hardhar 
  (warrior-priests) wear breastplates and bracers, 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  171
  ERIC BELISLE
  Arahar (battle-chaplains) wear splint mail, Rau-
  thar (swordmasters) wear shoulder-spike-adorned 
  plate mail, Direhar (guardian-priests) wear full 
  plate, and the Warlyon (high priest) wears gilded 
  magic plate armor that enables flight.
   
  Whenever they’re not praying to Tempus or 
  fighting, Hammers train with their weapons, drill 
  to hone battlefield discipline, tend the wounded, 
  repair arms and armor, and tend to pack beasts 
  and their harnesses, in the service of transporting 
  an army’s provisions.
   
  Hammers are allowed to accept fees for 
  weapon training and for making and repairing 
  arms and armor, and most do so. The forges in 
  Temples of the Lord of Battles are seldom silent, 
  as the priests take turns at being weaponsmiths, 
  armorers, and farriers. Many farmers who never 
  want to be closer to war than hearing tales at the 
  local tavern pay their coppers regularly into the 
  treasuries of Tempus to have their horses and 
  oxen shod.
   
  Hammers are not encouraged to exalt them-
  selves or establish personal reputations, and are 
  strictly forbidden to hire or lend themselves out 
  as battlefield generals, except when leading a holy 
  force of Hammers against a religious foe. As a 
  result, there are no known prominent Hammers, 
  though Tempuran clergy are everywhere and are 
  universally respected by professional soldiers.
  Torm, the True
   
  Creed: Be loyal, obedient, and dutiful, up-
  holding laws, rules, and the most ethical stances 
  through both unwavering support and armed 
  vigilance. Seek corruption constantly and stamp it 
  out. Give swift but brutal death to traitors. Where 
  laws are unjust or flawed, urge improvements and 
  alternatives rather than a confusion of ever more 
  laws. Train law keepers and judges to be just, and 
  watch over them to ensure that they perform with 
  impartiality. Serve with all your heart as well as 
  all your reason. Every failure of duty diminishes 
  the Loyal Fury; every success empowers him and 
  brightens the world. Be vigilant always. Question 
  your actions and stances rather than sinking into 
  the sin of self-righteousness. Torm watches you, 
  and expects you to watch and guide others.
  Many folk of Faerûn sleep safe of nights because priests, paladins, and dedicated lay warriors of Helm, Tempus, and Torm fight day and 
  night to keep the Realms from being ravaged by creatures that care not for concepts such as honor and duty.
  
  Chapter 5
  172
   
  Secular Aims: Torm’s clergy are known as 
  the True and Loyal and the Watchful Guardians. 
  Over time, most folk—members of the church of 
  the Loyal Fury included—have combined the two 
  terms and come to call Torm’s priests the True 
  Guardians, or the True for short.
   
  The True are a strong part of secular politics 
  almost everywhere with a developed legal system, 
  public order, and a rulership that isn’t tyranni-
  cal or dominated by another faith. They strive to 
  keep law keepers aboveboard and free from cor-
  ruption, both by training and spiritually guiding 
  them, and by spying on them and occasionally 
  openly opposing them. They question racist or 
  markedly unfair ruling policies, as well as those 
  that antagonize neighboring lands. As Azoun IV 
  of Cormyr once put it wryly, “The Tormites are 
  the wagging finger in all of our lives.”
   
  Although many resent this patriarchal scrutiny 
  and constant public judging, the common folk 
  grudgingly accept it as necessary, deeming it “the 
  shield that protects us all, good and bad, so as to 
  be ourselves and not oppressed slaves.”
   
  Mirt the Moneylender, speaking in 1361 DR, 
  explained the role of the True this way: “They 
  are the wise old man who reports all lawbreaking 
  he’s seen to the Watch—but when the Watch haul 
  down a miscreant and start to beat him in the 
  street, he steps forward to firmly halt the beating 
  and says, ‘Here, now, there’s no call for that.’ If 
  those who rule or enforce the rule disappoint the 
  citizens, they lose the support of those citizens. 
  The True remind us of that daily. I’d venture that 
  thousands of uprisings, large and small, never 
  happened because they didn’t let matters get 
  that bad.”
   
  The True are armed, armored, and tutored fre-
  quently by their superiors in the well-disciplined 
  church hierarchy. Although they are very active 
  in watching and guiding in most lands of Faerûn, 
  they do not do so for personal gain, other than the 
  benefits all citizens of a place enjoy when just law 
  and order prevail. They also do not act for glory—
  no member of the True wants or enjoys personal 
  public prominence or unfettered power free of 
  laws and hierarchy.
   
  Tormites who gather wealth for themselves 
  and do violence to retain it or keep it secret are 
  cast out of the church if discovered. Those who 
  succumb to this temptation in small, minor ways 
  might regain the favor of Torm by announcing 
  what they have done, yielding up what they took 
  to the church, and doing a penance. Such a pen-
  ance is usually a dangerous mission to establish 
  the presence of, and respect for, Torm’s ways in a 
  hostile region. Few fall from grace in this manner, 
  however, and the True do not regard amassing, 
  hiding, and so controlling weapons of war, includ-
  ing magic, as a sin, but rather as prudence.
  Tymora, Our Smiling Lady
   
  Creed: To dare is to live. Be bold, take risks, 
  and live not only according to prudence and 
  plans. Trust in the Lady, for she is luck, and in 
  risking you shall be the master of your own life. 
  Yet seek to follow aims you set for yourself, for to 
  drift unthinkingly from boldness to boldness is 
  to fall into the unmerciful embrace of Beshaba. 
  Leave the outcome of something, large or small, 
  to pure luck every day. Counsel all others to live 
  in the same way; give them encouragement and 
  lead by example.
   
  Some who venerate the Lady of Luck believe 
  that planning for battle, adventure, or major life 
  decisions is a mild sin. They believe that those 
  who truly venerate Tymora and follow her de-
  sires should do everything by chance, “trusting in 
  the Lady.”
   
  Some Tymorans enjoy games of chance, while 
  others dismiss such activities as “showing rude-
  ness to the Lady by idling away time and coins 
  playing at something you should be doing for real, 
  in earnest.”
   
  Most of Tymora’s followers believe that calling 
  on the Lady aloud with a murmured “Lady, be 
  with me,” when going into battle is crucial to her 
  worship. If this gesture is forgotten or dismissed, 
  Beshaba’s ill luck rather than Tymora’s good luck 
  will accompany that person in the fray.
   
  Elderly and infirm persons wanting to vener-
  ate Tymora often give aid, shelter, items, or even 
  sponsorship to adventurers, who can chance 
  things and therefore please the Lady better than 
  they themselves can.
   
  Jugglers—especially those who juggle sharp 
  weapons, or otherwise court danger when per-
  forming—always pray to Tymora before their 
  acts, and they believe their performances are of-
  ferings to the goddess.
   
  Wayfarers lost at a choice of roads know 
  very well that the right thing to do, unless one 
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  173
  beseeches another deity such as Gwaeron Wind-
  strom or Shaundakul for specific directions, is 
  to call on the Lady. To do this, one invokes her 
  name, drops a coin onto his or her own head from 
  above, and is guided as to the route to take by 
  where it falls. When guidance is deemed less than 
  definitive, wayfarers repeat this process until “the 
  way shows clear.”
   
  Secular Aims: Lady Luck’s priests are called 
  Luckbringers by many, but they call themselves 
  the Fortunate Faithful, or just Fortunates. They 
  are expected to spread stories of success and good 
  fortune achieved through daring, and to establish, 
  maintain, and staff a widespread web of temples 
  and shrines to Tymora, that her inspiration and 
  guidance be within easy reach of all.
   
  Tymora is the primary goddess of many adven-
  turers, and Tymoran clergy are expected to tend, 
  shelter, and support needy adventurers—and to 
  expect generous offerings from the same adven-
  turers when good fortune attends them. Even a 
  simple “roof and prevailing-wind wall over an 
  altar” shrine to Tymora in the wilds has two or 
  more Fortunates staffing it, plus a handful of lay 
  worshipers. Such altars are equipped with healing 
  potions, means of neutralizing poison, a fire and 
  cooking cauldron, blankets, splints, food, herbs, 
  weapons, tools, lanterns and oil for them, and 
  cudgel torches—all for giving, renting, or selling 
  to adventurers, wayfarers, and others in need.
   
  A Fortunate will aid a crofter seeking his lost 
  child as enthusiastically as will a professional ad-
  venturer—for they both enjoy boldly chancing the 
  unknown and perils, and Tymora regards such 
  actions as holy and desirable. Tymorans support 
  risky business ventures as well as adventuring ac-
  tivities, but the church is divided on gambling. 
  Tymorans believe that personal wagering is fine, 
  even in gaming, but professional gambling—both 
  the institutions that develop and inevitably cheat 
  or tilt the odds so as to make a guaranteed cut, 
  and the gamblers who cheat or try to count cards 
  rather than trusting in chance, are frowned upon. 
  It reverences Tymora to live in chance and the 
  moment of fortune, but it sins against Tymora to 
  try to alter the chancing to your own benefit. Of 
  course, preparing yourself to gain the best odds 
  beforehand is fine—it is cheating or recasting the 
  chance during the chancing that is decidedly not 
  acceptable.
   
  Tymorans support hopeless causes and the un-
  derdog, and want to see chances taken. However, 
  Lady Luck herself guides senior clergy in decid-
  ing if this stance should still be followed when 
  such support might lead to war or open violence. 
  As a result, some Tymorans become popular or 
  widely known. In the mid- and later 1300s DR, 
  these prominent Fortunates include the following 
  individuals.
   
  Asmrele Staglar: Staglar is usually based in Wa-
  terdeep but known to travel all over the Sword 
  Coast North and Heartlands, as far east as Elver-
  sult and as far south as the northern boundary of 
  Amn. A merry, “blades out!” adventurer, Staglar 
  has long, flowing white hair despite her youth, 
  and is known for flashy sword play, utter fearless-
  ness, acrobatics, and frequent laughter. Staglar 
  seems to genuinely love danger, and she wants 
  others to share in her carefree daring. Rumors 
  insist that “the Staglar” has been slain and resur-
  rected scores of times, but the truth is unknown.
   
  Sandurl Sarradren: Usually based in southwest-
  ern Sembia, but often found spending a winter 
  over in Cormyr, this jovial and daring merchant 
  trader is getting steadily older and paunchier. 
  Nonetheless, Sarradren still lives for the bold—
  often borderline, but never illicit—trade gamble, 
  and seems to have more bustling energy than men 
  a third his age.
   
  Tannath Daerovur: Based in Tethyr, but moving 
  around constantly, Daerovur is a dashingly hand-
  some, living-with-gusto young man who makes 
  friends easily and helps them carry out all man-
  ner of seemingly crazy schemes, business forays, 
  and social and romantic ploys. As a result of this 
  behavior—and the songs of smitten minstrels 
  who chronicle it—he is entering local legend as a 
  young, romantic action hero.
   
  Lathlan Zauntur: Calishite-born but apt to be 
  found anywhere around the shores of the Shining 
  Sea, this battered-looking, middle-aged veteran 
  is an accomplished actor and mimic. He usually 
  poses as a weary, lowcoin trader—until he falls in 
  with someone who has a daring plan or a crazed 
  scheme, whereupon he grins, his eyes twinkle, 
  and he reveals himself as an agile, swift-witted 
  veteran of swindles, long chances, and risky busi-
  ness. He honestly doesn’t care if he profits, but he 
  wants his new friends to profit. As a result, he is 
  seldom attacked and often admired, and his name 
  is spreading as a good friend to have.
  
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  174
  Tyr, the Even-Handed
   
  Creed: Follow all just laws and work to get 
  unjust laws changed. Work against injustice ev-
  erywhere, and never refuse to give aid or allow 
  your aid to be less than wholehearted. Defend 
  against injustice as if every wronged being is your 
  beloved. Be good and fair always, exposing cor-
  ruption and remaining steadfast and firm. Where 
  jaws fail, law keepers are corrupt, or rulers are 
  cruel, capricious, or unfair, be the wise and even 
  hand of justice. Always consider consequences 
  rather than merely the judgment of the moment. 
  Yet behave without pride or aggression, so secular 
  authorities defer to you rather than feeling defied 
  or disrespected. Guard against the twisting of 
  laws, but show understanding and mercy rather 
  than harsh conformity, for all laws are imperfect. 
  Strive ever to make laws better. Never prejudge; 
  let your mind be always open.
   
  Tyr is the god of justice: the even-handed 
  application of laws, rules, and codes within a so-
  ciety. In a polytheistic setting such as this one, 
  it’s important to stand back from any real-life 
  religious views of “absolute good” and think of 
  things as intelligent beings of the Realms do.
   
  For example, the paladins of Tyr who are part 
  of the government of Waterdeep see the continu-
  ance of a cosmopolitan, tolerant, prosperous port 
  city as good in itself, and see their role as twofold. 
  First, they continually work to make sure the laws 
  and rules are the best possible to keep Waterdeep 
  thriving and a good place to live, and as such, 
  breeding loyalty to Waterdeep and a willingness 
  to obey its rules and pay its taxes. Second, they 
  work to ensure that those laws are administered 
  fairly and impartially.
   
  Taking a step closer in detail, the laws must be 
  continually adjusted and refined so as to serve the 
  populace—not just its most wealthy and power-
  ful—as best they can. If instances occur when 
  treating citizens differently from each other is 
  desirable for making Waterdeep better, that’s 
  fine—if the laws are written or rewritten to allow 
  that difference of treatment. In other words, 
  absolute or blind justice is bad and not to be 
  championed. Rather, Tyrrans support a continu-
  ally evolving, ever more flexible and farsighted 
  system and enforcement of laws.
   
  This is why Texter and Piergeiron both sup-
  port having shady lords like Mirt involved in 
  government, and have agents who covertly and 
  continually investigate the City Guard and the 
  City Watch to mitigate human nature and slow or 
  stifle corruption. They know that corruption will 
  happen, and that some Watch officers will be lazy 
  and stupid, and play favorites from time to time. 
  It’s their business as the ones in charge to try to 
  arrange Watch policies, procedures, and training, 
  and the structure of civic justice, to work against 
  that. It’s desirable to understand criminals and 
  watch their plots, rather than to always wade in 
  at the moment when wrongdoing is detected or 
  suspected, because Waterdeep benefits in the 
  long run from those in government being tolerant 
  and knowing how the city works. The laws treat 
  nobles differently from other citizens, and that’s 
  part of Waterdeep’s history, not something to be 
  automatically struck down without much consid-
  eration. Yet nobles who misuse their wealth or 
  high station must be resisted. It’s all a huge bal-
  ancing act, fraught with ever-changing obstacles.
   
  To put it far more simply, a paladin of Tyr 
  wants laws to be applied properly. If the law con-
  tains discrimination, that’s acceptable, unless the 
  paladin sees bad consequences to this discrimina-
  tion. Then it is the holy duty of that individual to 
  try to get the law changed or struck down. Laws 
  are seen as imperfect, and always capable of im-
  provement, never something to be blindly applied.
   
  Secular Aims: Tyr the Just expects his priests 
  to cultivate calm impartiality and an utter refusal 
  to be coerced or intimidated. His priests daily re-
  flect on their deeds in a search for shame. Could 
  they have done anything better? Should any 
  decision they took be altered, or any judgment 
  changed? Should they call in a superior for advice 
  or an “overjudgment”?
   
  The strictly hierarchical Tyrran clergy are 
  known as the Just both among themselves and 
  in wider Faerûn. They are widely respected and, 
  among lawbreakers, widely feared. In the words of 
  Lady Lara Stormweather of Waterdeep, “A priest 
  of Tyr is a blunt judge, but also a stern refuge, 
  and champion of the wronged.”
   
  The church of the Maimed God frowns upon 
  its priests exalting themselves at any time, and 
  any Just who acquires too high a public profile is 
  moved to a different region, perhaps even encour-
  aged to take a new name. As a result—aside from 
  a few who have died fighting for Tyr’s holy doc-
  trines—there are no well-known Just.
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  175
  Umberlee, the Bitch Queen
   
  Creed: Spread rightful fear of Umberlee, for 
  her wrath is the fury of the waves that swallow 
  ships, shatter seawalls, and rise to race far inland 
  to flood and drown. No ship reaches port with-
  out her favor, and no voyage finds its destination 
  without her blessing. Sailors and passengers must 
  make proper prayers and offerings to her, or she 
  will take them, their vessels, and their cargo as 
  her rightful tribute. Never forget Umberlee. Pray 
  to her in need, for she yields up sunken treasure 
  to those who please her.
   
  Secular Aims: The priests of the Queen of 
  the Deeps are formally known as the Undrowned, 
  because Umberlee prevents them from drowning. 
  Privately, however, many call them the Drowned. 
  In return for offerings of at least 100 gp per pas-
  senger, plus a tenth of the market value of any 
  cargo, an Undrowned will ride any ship on a voy-
  age, and Umberlee will see that ship safe to shore, 
  douse any fires onboard, and hurl back pirates or 
  sea creatures that attack it.
   
  The Undrowned are not loved, they are feared. 
  Everyone knows that a priest of Umberlee within 
  sight of the sea can call aquatic undead up out 
  of the waves to serve or fight for them. Umber-
  lee suffers none of her clergy to become famous. 
  There are nine Undrowned female priestesses for 
  every male priest. All have a reputation for being 
  wanton, but this conduct is merely an attempt to 
  find relief from the chill of the sea (“Umberlee’s 
  touch”) through contact with warm worshipers, 
  usually sailors.
  Waukeen, Merchant’s Friend
   
  Creed: Every making or spending of a coin is 
  a prayer to Waukeen. Guard your funds well, yet 
  share them too, giving freely to beggars and in 
  business, for mercantile trade is the best path to 
  enrichment for all. Teach everyone to destroy no 
  trade goods, to harm and restrict no commerce, 
  and to call on Waukeen for guidance in trading. 
  Waukeen’s support will in the long term lead to 
  betterment for all. The bold find gold, the careful 
  keep it, and the timid yield it up.
   
  Secular Aims: The Merchant’s Friend ex-
  pects her priests to be honest money changers, 
  shrewd investors in trade, and smallcoin lend-
  ers to everyone—even those who are likely to 
  squander the loans. They aid merchants with 
  advice, pricing, labeling, crating or uncrating of 
  wares, and shop setup. They also help safeguard 
  goods or money for short periods when a mer-
  chant is in need. All these services they perform 
  for free, but with stated limitations to avoid being 
  exploited. They remain a merchant’s friends, not 
  his or her staff, servants, or slaves; they entertain 
  suggestions, but do not take orders.
   
  Priests of Waukeen are known as Goldpalms to 
  the public, but they call themselves Truetraders. 
  Waukeen expects her Truetraders to personally 
  invest at least once every tenday, and to buy or sell 
  something every day.
   
  The Merchant’s Friend keeps a close watch 
  over her clergy. She guides them personally in 
  their dreams, and sometimes speaks to them as 
  they work in the form of an unmistakable “voice 
  that shines like gold” in their heads. 
   
  Priests are allowed to enrich themselves while 
  they do Waukeen’s work. As a result, even though 
  they monthly tithe a tenth of their profits to the 
  church, there are many wealthy Truetraders, 
  and Waukeen expects them to show their suc-
  cess when it’s prudent to do so. Most of her clergy 
  have cloth-of-gold, gem-adorned revelwear and 
  “great occasions” finery, but they don’t wear such 
  garb down dark alleys or when traveling back-
  country trade roads.
   
  The church of Waukeen, with the blessing of its 
  goddess, seeks to influence politics everywhere by 
  working through merchants. Trade barriers and 
  unduly high taxes or seizures should be stamped 
  out, and laws and customs should be shaped so as 
  to let trade flow freely, to bring prosperity to citi-
  zens high and low. New business ventures should 
  be supported by quietly aiding and abetting do-
  ings of the church of Lathander. Wars should be 
  discouraged, because even if arming for war cre-
  ates a rush of wealth, the destruction, despoiling 
  of goods, and death of consumers always costs 
  more than it earns. And finally, measurements 
  and standards should be clearly understood and 
  kept from arbitrary judgment or changes to mini-
  mize deceit and confusion.
  
  Chapter 5
  176
  This map has the look of my original dungeon mapping, but the dungeon is more of a purpose-built complex than my more typical “un-
  derground chambers enlarged from caverns, or that grew over time and a succession of owners” dungeons. Subterranean complexes in the 
  Realms always have a reason for being, beyond the rather far-fetched “Let’s stuff a labyrinth with monsters and treasure to entertainingly 
  kill adventurers.” The Halls of the Beast-Tamers is typical of the compact size of most dungeons in the Realms: mini-dungeons, if you will.
  
  GODS AND FOLLOWERS
  177
  The start of the Halls of the Beast-Tamers “key.” Note the emphasis on atmosphere, and the background on why it was built and what’s 
  happened since. This enables a DM to react on the fly in response to the unforeseeable things players have their characters do—or try. The 
  dying “T” is courtesy of my aging upright Underwood 8 typewriter, a noble cast-metal machine heavier than many cars these days. This 
  was before personal computers, or anything called the Internet. Back then, we walked uphill both ways to our dungeons, and liked it.
  
  178
  We all know what brute force is. In the Realms, 
  it tends to mean fleets of ships, marching armies, 
  or the terrifying flood of a savage orc horde, and 
  in such displays of force, amassing more soldiers 
  than the foe likely means victory.
   
  The Faerûnian counterbalance to the strong 
  sword has always been magic—wonderful, awe-
  some, terrible magic. Magic gives its users the 
  ability to harness natural forces to do things that 
  frustrate or counter brute force, awakening fear 
  and respect in those who deal in force of arms, 
  and serving as a deterrent that keeps them from 
  lashing out at will and whim.
   
  By deliberate design, there’s a lot of magic 
  in the Realms—too much for any one person to 
  know, keep track of, or memorize all the rules and 
  details of. It’s supposed to take you unawares, or 
  surprise you, or keep you guessing. It is supposed 
  to impart a sense of wonder that occasionally 
  rears into the spectacular. It is meant to give the 
  weak and downtrodden some hope, by enabling 
  them to see that chances lie ahead in their lives. 
  Given that Mystra is opposed to tyranny, magic 
  is not supposed to make every ruler a wizard-
  emperor, but rather bring about a world in which 
  most arcane spell-hurlers are independent. Even 
  JULIE DILLON
  6
  
  THE ART
  179
  a humble farmer who gets surprised in his hayloft 
  could burst forth with a wild talent—magic he 
  might not even have known he possessed, until 
  that frantic moment. Magic is truly everywhere.
   
  Entire campaigns can centered on the pursuit 
  of magic. An ideal one-to-three-player Realms 
  campaign could be built around magical research 
  and wizardly roleplaying. Player characters could 
  spend their time crafting and refining spells, 
  magic items, and spell-ink formulae. Nonplayer 
  characters could include alchemists and those 
  who search out or provide magical components 
  and ingredients—such as other adventurers and 
  more powerful, rival wizards.
   
  Alternatively, the characters in a campaign 
  could be a “fetch and bring back” adventuring 
  band for a wizard—or even for two or three rival 
  wizards competing fiercely with each other. Mys-
  tra’s servants repeatedly “seed” tombs, ruins, and 
  dungeons with spellbooks, spell scrolls, and other 
  magic, so Faerûnians expect such places to hold 
  magic. Of course, so do predatory monsters, who 
  take this expectation into account when decid-
  ing where to lurk. Certain geysers and hot springs 
  are perfect for the disposal of magically charged 
  poisons, potions, and lesser magic items . . . as 
  well as for untraceable burials of artifacts, relics, 
  magic items of considerable power, and people. 
  An adventuring band could forge an interesting 
  career as “finders and disposers” for an arch-
  mage, a royal court, or an ambitious noble family.
   
  Anyone in the Realms who is involved in magi-
  cal matters soon learns about important elements 
  of the Art and its wielding, such as the annual 
  Magefairs, and the interest that many have in 
  anyone who works magic publicly, seeks magic or 
  portals, and tries to acquire magic. Some of the 
  most interested parties include beholders, liches, 
  alhoons (illithiliches), dracoliches and the Cult 
  of the Dragon, the Harpers, the Chosen of Mys-
  tra, the Red Wizards, and the Zhentarim—just 
  to name a few. Rulers like to know who in their 
  lands can cast spells as well, and what intentions 
  such spell-hurlers have.
   
  Then there are the oddities of Faerûnian 
  magic: The ancient helmed horrors and their 
  many modern copies and variants. The deep-
  spawn that disgorge duplicates of creatures they 
  have devoured, flooding an area with monsters 
  or livestock. And the wingless wonder, a comical, 
  clumsy oddity that might really be a powerful 
  but imprisoned wizard—since it’s a shape many 
  mages in the 800s DR through 1160s DR were 
  magically forced into, after losing duels with 
  rivals.
   
  The Art is vast, ever-changing, and endlessly 
  challenging.
  HOW MAGICAL  
  IS THE REALMS?
  Very magical, in that a lot of magic (spells, magic 
  items, and ongoing enchantments and wards) is 
  always around, and that means a lot of wizards 
  and sorcerers too. In addition, everyone has heard 
  tales of magic, and most city folk see uses or 
  results of magic daily, often in the form of glow-
  stones and similar magical light sources.
   
  However, the average common laborer, crafter, 
  servant, farmer or shopkeeper has never felt magic 
  cast on him or her, or handled anything bearing a 
  dweomer or that could be called a magic item. (In 
  the Realms, regardless of specific game meanings, 
  most folk talk of “enchanted items” and “en-
  chantments” rather than saying “magic items” or 
  “There’s a spell on that chair.”) Moreover, the av-
  erage person has never hired anyone to cast a spell 
  or had such a person under command. Magic 
  is dangerous and very expensive. Many com-
  mon people have seen magic used, but usually at 
  a distance, or in the form of the trickery spells 
  of traveling hedge wizards who entertain. Most 
  people are fascinated by it and will rush or creep 
  to watch it in action, full of awe but also fear. To 
  most folk of Faerûn, there’s nothing everyday or 
  casual about magic; they don’t really think about 
  how much it shapes their lives and societies.
  Waterdhavian Attitudes 
  toward Magic
  Early on in his learning of magic, the long-dead 
  and locally famous first Lord (revered in Water-
  deep for his role in establishing the city as it is 
  today) Ahghairon said, “I am no wizard. I am a 
  dabbler but no master of magic; it seems no mas-
  tery burns within me.”
   
  These are famous words in Waterdeep, still 
  known by most Waterdhavian children and 
  all adults, and are oft referenced, as in the dry 
  
  Chapter 6
  180
  comment “No mastery blazing forth yet,” or “A 
  dabbler but no master, eh?” (Comments applied 
  to skill trades and crafts, not just to magic use.)
   
  Tuezaera Hallowhand was a famous “lone cat” 
  thief of Waterdeep in the 1200s DR who disap-
  peared suddenly and is thought to have come to a 
  violent end. She once robbed a wizard, and wrote 
  this on his wall with a fingertip dipped in his fa-
  vorite red wine: “I take things. You take freedom 
  with your spells. Which of us is the greater thief?”
   
  This statement, too, is well remembered, 
  and usually echoed in Waterdhavian speech by 
  someone using the last (questioning) sentence of 
  Tuezara’s inscription.
   
  Laeral, Lady Mage of Waterdeep for some 
  years (when married to Khelben “Blackstaff” 
  Arunsun), once publicly rebuked an overambi-
  tious wizard of the Watchful Order of Magists & 
  Protectors thus: “If I hurl spells but think not of 
  consequences, I am nothing. If I take lives but 
  count not the cost, I am nothing. If I steal in the 
  night and see not the faces of the devastated come 
  morning, I am nothing. If I make decrees like a 
  ruler but undertake none of the responsibilities 
  of the throne, I am nothing. And if I do all these 
  things in the name of the Watchful Order, I am 
  less than nothing. Doth thy mirror crack?”
   
  These scornful words are remembered and 
  used almost daily in Waterdeep even a century 
  later, though almost never as the full quotation. 
  Rather, someone will ask scornfully, “Doth thy 
  mirror crack?” or “Hurl but think not?” or “Take 
  but not count cost? Be nothing, then!”
  Wizards Trading Magic
  Guilds of mages are many and varied across 
  Faerûn, and unofficial, secretive cabals of wiz-
  ards are far more common than formal guilds. 
  The trade of magic or lore will always take place 
  very gingerly, in one of two ways: private deals 
  between members (kept secret even from other 
  members), and formal deals (known to other 
  members and regulated by intricate, written guild 
  rules that have been tested and refined and com-
  plained about and refined again for decades or 
  longer). Because of suspicion and paranoia, pri-
  vate deals are rare without a master-apprentice 
  relationship being involved, or some kind of 
  agreement that involves hostages or collateral or 
  third-party scrutinizers.
   
  In Waterdeep’s Watchful Order of Magists & 
  Protectors, one of the best-known mage guilds, 
  senior members rule openly (in quorum coun-
  cil) on all dissemination of lore or spells between 
  members, and often order such transfers to be 
  executed for the good of the order (that is, to 
  strengthen all members, or to arm all the order’s 
  mages to better defend Waterdeep or carry out the 
  aims of the order).
   
  Claims of theft, cheating, and deception are 
  always investigated by order members who use 
  mind-probing magic. Refusal to cooperate is in-
  terpreted as an admission of guilt, and usually 
  punishable by expulsion and defanging, in which 
  the order sends a large force of mages to strip the 
  offending member of dangerously powerful spells 
  or items, to protect the order against retaliation. 
  If spell-battles result and such expelled mages 
  end up brain-burned or trapped in a beast’s shape 
  during such a defanging, so be it. The choice of 
  action was theirs, so the consequences are also 
  their responsibility. Problems arise when the of-
  fenders in such matters are senior order members 
  who also have access to mind-probing magic, but 
  such are the perils of interesting lives.
   
  The Watchful Order holds mini-moots when-
  ever circumstances dictate, trying wherever 
  possible not to hear matters involving specific 
  members without those members being present. 
  The order also holds monthly moots at its head-
  quarters or at another designated place. These 
  monthly moots are largely “good cheeses and 
  better wine” gossip sessions wherein members 
  are encouraged to point out trends and oddities 
  they’ve noticed in the city, new arrivals selling 
  or practicing magic, rumors from afar brought 
  by visiting traders, and the like. At any meeting, 
  order members have the right to raise complaints 
  and concerns with senior officers, in front of all 
  other members present.
   
  Mystra smiles upon the spread of magic, so 
  under the urging of her clergy, and the dreams 
  she sends, most wizards and sorcerers will at-
  tempt to give a spell to a stranger at least once 
  during their lives. Moreover, the Chosen of Mys-
  tra and servitors of Azuth are commanded to 
  covertly and frequently place spell scrolls and 
  spellbooks in tombs, dungeons, ruins, and other 
  places where the adventurous will find them.
   
  Two mages desiring to trade in magic will 
  probably call in a priest or a priestess of Mystra 
  
  THE ART
  181
  I’ve created hundreds of mage-sigils with which wizards adorn their scrolls, spellbooks, the wax sealing their stoppered potions, the butts 
  of their wands, and of course the cryptic messages they leave for others to find. Great fun when players are trying to puzzle out who killed 
  whom in a dusty tower strewn with corpses from long ago. Mage-sigils are a big part of my one-DM-one-player campaigns of magecraft, 
  in which a lone wizard or a Crown investigator of magic tries to survive and prosper in a world of sinister or mad mages. Try it sometime!
  
  Chapter 6
  182
  to secretly handle the exchange, if possible. Only 
  clerical superiors would know about the transac-
  tion, and even they would know only what was 
  being exchanged and not between whom (unless 
  one was nosy and did some eavesdropping). One 
  of the chief daily functions of the clergy of Mystra 
  is being neutral councilors and facilitators be-
  tween justifiably paranoid mages.
   
  Such an exchange might go like this:
   
  “Will you accept Shreena handling this?” asks 
  one mage.
   
  “Who’s Shreena?” asks a second mage warily.
   
  “Anointed of Mystra, of the Weavehouse tem-
  ple. You know, the tall quiet one with the green 
  eyes and the hair down to here. Stands behind the 
  scrying font sometimes, when you come to pray.”
   
  “Oh, aye. Her. All right. Shall you go to her 
  first, or shall I?”
   
  “You decide, but I want this to be open: 
  Whichever one of us goes tells the name of the 
  other to her. I don’t want her giving either of us 
  funny looks for a tenday while she wonders who’s 
  going to show up as the ‘other half.’ ”
   
  “I’ll go. Tomorrow morn acceptable?”
   
  “Yes. Leave word here if you can’t get in to 
  speak to her, and let that word be ‘skyblue.’ If no 
  message is left, I’ll assume you have seen her, and 
  go to see her myself tomorrow even.”
  And so on. Some mages see it as an honor to have 
  a Chosen of Mystra act as their go-between, and 
  others shun this attention because of the notice 
  others might take of what they’re up to as a re-
  sult. Rarely, a mutually trusted person who has 
  no magic will be agreed upon as a go-between—a 
  noble, for example, or a monarch, or perhaps even 
  an ordinary person beloved by both mages.
  Of Other Worlds, and Portals
  Among the most elite magically powerful groups 
  (and lone, studious mages) in Faerûn, there’s 
  widespread knowledge of the existence of other 
  worlds and the portals someone can use to “walk 
  through into otherwhere,” but very little about 
  the true nature of (or passing events in) such 
  other places, or the details of how and where to 
  use the ways to get to them.
   
  Groups and individuals who have mastered 
  portals and know of other planes of existence 
  regard this knowledge as mighty lore that gives 
  them an advantage over everyone else. They tend 
  to guard it jealously, even within the hierarchies 
  of their own groups.
   
  They also tend to spread lies and exaggerations 
  about the dangers of portals and “what lies be-
  yond” so that no one else will try to use the gates. 
  For example: Anyone who uses a portal “will be 
  tracked, from that moment on, by an invisible 
  creature that will always be with you and that 
  will aid your enemies and foes by revealing your 
  whereabouts and intentions for its own amuse-
  ment, as it slowly feeds off you, draining your 
  life-force, milking you for as long as possible, and 
  thus ensuring that your life is long but miserable.”
   
  Most portal users try to actively suppress prac-
  tical information, as in “Portals are here, here, 
  and here, and this is how to use them.” Getting 
  such information shouldn’t be easy, which is why 
  the majority of Faerûnians discover portals by 
  blundering through one, or seeing another crea-
  ture emerge from (or vanish through) one.
   
  Very few new portals are created these days be-
  cause very few beings have the magical might and 
  knowledge of how to do so—and doing it wrong 
  usually results in a fierce, short-lived planar rift 
  that sucks nearby beings into it, sometimes de-
  livering them stunned and bewildered to other 
  planes, but more often rending, blasting, and 
  slaying them.
   
  It is rumored that a handful of the eldest and 
  most reclusive illithids, sharns, and behold-
  ers know how to craft portals—but then, a lot 
  of wild rumors surround “gates to otherwhere.” 
  A popular one is that the lives of one or more 
  accomplished sorcerers or wizards must be sacri-
  ficed, on the spot, to create one. (This rumor is 
  true—but only for one gate-creation ritual, out of 
  more than a dozen ways to create portals.)
   
  A few of the surviving portals become active 
  when the right conditions are met; moonlight fall-
  ing on a certain rock, for example. Most of the 
  portals that still function require a user to touch 
  something, or stand in exactly the right spot, 
  while the right words are uttered. A few require 
  that users have a key (activating item), which is 
  almost always small and portable and usually 
  magical. A key could be, for example, a bundle 
  consisting of “not less than three emeralds, of a 
  total volume no greater than what will fill these 
  two cupped hands” or “four rods of copper, of 
  this size.” Keys are never alive.
  
  THE ART
  183
  SPECIAL BLOODLINES
  From ancient days in the Realms until today, 
  there have always been “special” families. These 
  families, elf, human, or half-elf, have been bold 
  enough to make secret pacts with other magic-
  using races to gain magic of their own—as well as 
  power, wealth, and influence. It’s rumored that 
  some of these families have interbred with their 
  patron races, though, in the words of the long-
  ago sage Alaundo, “Rumor can be a wild thing.” 
  Realmslore tells us that these patrons have in-
  cluded dragons, illithids, and beholders.
   
  These pact-making families tend to keep them-
  selves as hidden as possible, often taking other 
  names and faces while they’re out acting as the 
  agents of those with whom they’ve made arrange-
  ments. Yet a few folk in the Realms know the 
  names of some of these special clans: among the 
  elves, some branches of Houses Starym and El-
  phaerendil; among humans, the Skeldragons and 
  Talonmists; and among half-elves, the Alendrim, 
  Saerendever, and Talyth families.
   
  Much as nobles who plot treason against a 
  ruler, these special families do much in secret, 
  crave power, and betimes must do perilous or un-
  lawful things. Their locations, reach, interests, 
  capabilities, and deeds vary widely, and they—
  and the patrons they serve—can be compelling 
  and mysterious allies, manipulators, and foes.
  Wild Talents
  Members of the aforementioned special blood-
  line families, as well as just plain folk, all across 
  the Realms can have wild talents. A wild talent 
  is a natural magical ability needing no training, 
  casting, or spell components, which manifests 
  spontaneously—sometimes even when needed.
   
  Unreliability is the watchword of any wild tal-
  ent, both in terms of its efficacy and its frequency 
  of occurrence, though a talent usually grows in 
  power over time if its possessor works at it. Wild 
  talents that start out feeble and remain some-
  thing weak and intermittent, or that are swiftly 
  exhausted, make for much short-term excite-
  ment—but a wild talent that becomes a relatively 
  dependable ability and is used too much in public 
  makes its possessor a threat whom most rulers 
  will want to lock up . . . or destroy.
   
  Wild talents, when they blossom, tend to have 
  limits that are quickly reached. Many a “Talent” 
  can walk through walls or locked doors—but 
  most who have this ability can pass just one door 
  every two days (or can get through a second door, 
  only to collapse, injured and unconscious). Some 
  can take only themselves through, not clothes 
  or weapons. Other folk can involuntarily reflect 
  magic back at its source for a few minutes when 
  spells are cast at them, but can’t do so again for 
  six days. Or they can drift down gently from 
  heights and land unharmed, but are then so weak 
  they can barely crawl. A few Talents can turn a 
  spell away from themselves and at someone else—
  but only if a handy “someone else” is near.
   
  Most wild talents come and go frustratingly (a 
  tingling when a lie is heard might dissipate just as 
  whoppers begin to flow, or an involuntary shield 
  that appears instantly during a surprise attack 
  might as abruptly vanish seconds later).
   
  Wild talents have been known down the ages, 
  and are often thought of as “the touch of the 
  gods” (some say “the curse of the gods”). They 
  have always been rare, and usually feeble. Talents 
  who possess exceedingly strong abilities often be-
  come long-lasting, paranoid villains.
   
  Many Talents find it difficult or dangerous to 
  experiment with, hone, or just practice their abili-
  ties—because a wild talent, once publicly known, 
  usually makes its possessor a marked person 
  whom rulers, cabals, or local mages want to cap-
  ture, and coerce, or even experiment upon.
   
  The most common wild talents (all undepend-
  able, and usually operating only once every few 
  days, for short periods, often draining the vitality 
  of their possessors) are the ability to detect nearby 
  magic, or uttered lies, or to receive visions from 
  the past associated with a place or object.
   
  Slightly less common are the ability to pass 
  alive through solid barriers without affecting 
  them, the ability to fly or to turn into a gaseous, 
  incorporeal “ghostly” form, the ability to become 
  invisible, and the ability to heal oneself or others.
   
  Rarer still are the power to create brief illu-
  sions, the ability to take the shape of another 
  creature for a few gasping breaths—and even to 
  touch a spellcaster and thereby “steal” a spell, 
  which the Talent can unleash later by act of will 
  (but sometimes not knowing what the magic is, or 
  how to control it).
  
  Chapter 6
  184
  WAYNE ENGLAND
  ALCHEMY
  In the Realms, alchemy is a field dominated by 
  secrets, mysteries, and danger. A few alchemists 
  search for the means of turning stones or other 
  dross into gold, or for elixirs to restore or preserve 
  youth, but most alchemists think such preoc-
  cupations to be “bold madness” or centuries (at 
  best) away from success. The daily living of most 
  alchemists consists of concocting nonmagical 
  painkillers, healing salves, and love potions for 
  those whose fears or slim purses keep them from 
  being customers of magic.
   
  Alchemy in the Realms is concerned with ev-
  erything from stuff you drink to make you slim, 
  to stuff you rub on to remove your warts, to stuff 
  you eat to make sure you will or won’t get preg-
  nant, to stuff you slap on manacles or locks to 
  make them crumble to rust, to stuff you paint on 
  manacles and locks to make them stay unaffected 
  when some of that previously mentioned stuff gets 
  slapped on them.
   
  Some alchemists constantly seek new poi-
  sons and antidotes, because there’s good coin to 
  be made from folk who need them—such as the 
  dancer in Calimport famous for performing with 
  many deadly scorpions and snakes that bite or 
  sting her repeatedly and harmlessly, to her evident 
  pleasure rather than pain; and the thieves who, 
  equipped with the same alchemical quaffs as the 
  dancer, freely steal valuables from coffers guarded 
  by venomous serpents and scorpions.
   
  Alchemy isn’t called “alchemy” when prac-
  ticed by priests, who are not above disparaging lay 
  folk who practice it, though (aside from temples 
  having less experimentation and substance sub-
  stitutions, and more written records) there’s little 
  real difference between a temple’s “holy secrets of 
  the gods” preparations and independent alchemy. 
  Some alchemists and herbalists work with each 
  other, and some sneer at each other. Truthful lore 
  isn’t widely shared in alchemy, so the “science” 
  advances very slowly, every practitioner having 
  to achieve mastery for oneself. Most alchemical 
  tomes available for purchase contain wrong or de-
  liberately false information.
   
  Alchemy in the Realms is nowhere near as 
  dominant and effective as modern real-world 
  chemistry is, but specific breakthroughs might 
  occur during the events of a campaign. If clever 
  adventurers find wild new uses for something, 
  remember that alchemy can easily involve unin-
  tended explosions. Lots of them.
  The Quest for Eternity
  Elixirs, potions, and drafts (in the Realms, some-
  thing introduced into a drinkable, usually in 
  sparing amounts) that engender love or lust, or 
  confer very deep sleep, pain relief, or invisibility 
  are the daily bread and butter of all alchemists, 
  herbalists, and spellcasters. These simple concoc-
  tions also provide a reliable source of income for 
  temples, shrine-tending priests, traveling preach-
  ers, and even hermits.
   
  However, the general populace believes that 
  only those who can work magic can create potions 
  of longevity, elixirs of youth, and other means of 
  extending one’s life span. These are always rare, 
  expensive, and highly sought after treasures.
   
  Gossip and local lore abound with horrific 
  tales of what can go wrong in the pursuit of 
  These Guild of Naturalists notes on dragon anatomy suggest 
  magical uses for certain admixtures that no one has perfected 
  yet—or rather, survived trying.
  
  THE ART
  185
  magical youth, from death in an instant (literally 
  crumbling to dust from sudden aging), to being 
  transformed into various monsters, to an ongoing 
  curse of limbs and body parts slowly but continu-
  ously shifting through various beast forms. All the 
  same, longevity magic remains a common pursuit 
  of the very wealthy, who often hire wizards to help 
  them cheat death, and among powerful mages 
  themselves, who often try to devise their own life-
  extending and renewing magic.
   
  This quest for immortality (or at least vigor) 
  is a long process, and not something for which 
  an adventuring wizard should be able to find a 
  tutor. As well, subtle differences in internal body 
  chemistry lead to magnified differences in a po-
  tion’s results. As a veteran alchemist might warn, 
  “What works for you may not work for me, and be 
  warned—experiments that don’t work age you, so 
  a night of tinkering and gulping might bring you 
  tottering to the edge of your grave.”
   
  Although there’s a roaring trade in false elix-
  irs of youth restored or eternal youth, very few 
  individuals know how to make real potions of lon-
  gevity. These few keep this secret to themselves, 
  sharing such concoctions only with those they fall 
  in love with and want to have as companions for-
  ever, to avoid being forced into slavery as captive 
  potion producers. Thus, everyone has to discover 
  the process anew, either by finding it written 
  down in an ancient tomb or cache (and honestly 
  or maliciously incorrect formulae are common) or 
  by finding such potions as treasure.
   
  Longevity potions were far more common in 
  ancient Netheril than they are today, because cer-
  tain magical processes were more widespread and 
  better understood then than they are now. Real 
  longevity magic is likely to be well guarded (in-
  cluding false potions—usually poisons—as lures 
  for would-be thieves), and is never offered for sale 
  in shops. Owners such as powerful wizards might 
  sell a single potion, discreetly and after a personal 
  approach, to a wealthy buyer (usually presenting 
  the item as “discovered among the treasures of 
  Archwizard X after his unfortunate demise at the 
  hands of Y”). Buyers should be aware that evil 
  mages have been known to gain influence over 
  wealthy individuals by selling them “youth po-
  tions” that grant such control.
   
  The life of an alchemist, a family of alchemists, 
  or an adventuring band of ingredient procurers 
  serving various alchemists, can make for an ideal 
  campaign for one to three players.
  WORDS OF 
  AWAKENING
  In early Netherese magic, certain words were 
  commonly used to activate magical wards and 
  guard spells, as well as to reveal the presence and 
  nature of illusions by turning them translucent. 
  Such utterances function only when said by a 
  living being standing in the right spot—either a 
  small, precise “feet just here” or “hand touching 
  this” location or a larger area like a room, accord-
  ing to the magic to which they’re linked.
   
  Such words were favorites of Avrauntra, the 
  first and greatest Netherese arcanist. Avrauntra 
  tutored so many students so well that they swiftly 
  became more powerful than Netherese priests, 
  transforming the culture and making possible the 
  later empire of magic that culminated in the fly-
  ing cities of the archwizards.
   
  Though many sages uphold Karsus as the 
  greatest Netherese mage, Mystra has said it is 
  more accurate to see him as the “most recklessly 
  ambitious.” Avrauntra lived for centuries, suffer-
  ing heartbreak after heartbreak as those she loved 
  were slain by rival mages or perished through 
  misadventure (often brought on by their magi-
  cal experimentations). Despairing, she ultimately 
  merged herself with the Weave, increasing its 
  strength, vigor, and extent—and she is not the 
  only mage to have done so. Some believe she lives 
  still, as a sentience within the Weave that watches 
  all spellcasters and murmurs warnings or advice 
  to those of whom she approves. 
   
  Later spellcasters made use of Avrauntra’s 
  words without necessarily being aware of their 
  origins, gleaning them from ancient writings and 
  spellbooks and believing they had power in their 
  own right. Indeed, they did, because repeatedly 
  used Weave trigger words increasingly influ-
  ence the Weave to respond in certain ways, and 
  if Avrauntra is still aware within the Weave, she 
  might respond to uses of “her” words.
   
  So someone saying the right word of awakening 
  at a particular location in a dungeon or ruin will 
  make hitherto silent and invisible nearby magic 
  suddenly glow—or even come to life, sometimes 
  
  Chapter 6
  186
  with disastrous results. Yet the use of such words 
  can reveal perils waiting ahead.
   
  Many words of awakening have been forgotten, 
  but those that survive include these.
   
  Authlaumator (oth-lawm-ah-tor): Usually a 
  command to a spying spell to reveal itself and re-
  port its results. The results of the spying spell are 
  usually shown by playing a series of short, silent 
  moving hologram-like images of intruders, show-
  ing their movements and what they did.
   
  Chelaunt (shell-ont): Awaken and unleash 
  effects.
   
  Ereth (air-eth): All at once.
   
  Fethadras (feth-ad-ras): Be revealed.
   
  Orprel (or-prel): Cease instantly.
   
  Porro (pore-oh): End/not that effect, but the 
  next/other one.
   
  Qerest (care-est): In succession.
   
  Spaereth (ss-pair-eth): Be revealed and de-
  stroyed, without taking effect.
  Almost all surviving words of awakening have 
  crept into recent use as code words, by the Harp-
  ers and others (notably wizards’ cabals). So all 
  these words now have a variety of everyday, non-
  magical meanings—with new ones being crafted 
  all the time. These possible meanings include 
  “I am of the group (are you?),” and “Meet me 
  at the agreed-upon place,” and “Danger,” and 
  “Urgent,” and “You are being followed,” and 
  “Renounce what’s planned!”
  BARDIC MATTERS
  Bardic colleges have indoor performance halls, 
  often soundproofed by magic or by being under-
  ground and having long, “crazy dogleg” entry 
  passages. The intent is to allow many bards to 
  practice at once without disturbing anyone (ex-
  cept perhaps their tutors or fellow performers). 
  Many colleges have teaching rooms, lounges, liv-
  ing quarters, meeting rooms, kitchen facilities 
  and pantries, instrument storage rooms, a lone 
  aboveground performance hall with galleries, and 
  a radiating network of performance chambers 
  belowground.
   
  What is taught in bardic colleges varies from 
  college to college, and from tutor to tutor. In 
  general, the lower-order colleges concentrate on 
  matters of pitch, timbre, and nuance. They do 
  this by having students sing scales, practice pre-
  cisely duplicating an overheard note or tune with 
  the voice, and mimic other voices and bird and 
  animal calls. Students also memorize a set of 
  stock tunes and perfect them on a limited range 
  of instruments (recorder, lute, harp) to the extent 
  that they can transpose them into different keys. 
  All students are taught to make and repair a par-
  ticular sort of instrument.
   
  Higher-order colleges add instruments and 
  greatly expand the memorized repertoire. They 
  also add versions of songs in other tongues, so 
  that a graduate who doesn’t know a particular 
  language can still perform a given song in that 
  tongue with perfect pronunciation and articula-
  tion. Students learn the histories of the tunes 
  in their repertoire, and sometimes alternative 
  lyrics—as well as why certain lands frown on, 
  or approve of, specific wordings. As students 
  progress, they are gradually taught how to in-
  struct others, and guided through the steps of 
  making and repairing an ever greater variety of 
  instruments.
   
  Only the newest students are taught in large, 
  organized classes. The whole point of bardic col-
  leges is that they offer a lot of one-on-one and 
  small-group instruction. Additionally, senior stu-
  dents are encouraged to improvise musically with 
  younger ones, so they can learn by exploration.
   
  Bardic colleges specialize in what they teach 
  and what instruments they make, but these dif-
  ferences depend on the individual instructors 
  practicing at a college at a given time more than 
  they do on college policy. As a result, nonbards 
  won’t tend to rank, for example, a lute from one 
  college as worth more or being finer than a lute 
  from another college. They do rank “this lute by 
  Tholomon Candras, from the time when he was 
  at this college . . .” over “that lute by Andrath 
  Melonder, repaired by diverse hands, from his 
  early days at that other college . . .”
   
  Bardic colleges in Faerûn admit would-be 
  members according to the following procedure. 
  Someone shows up at the door of a bardic college 
  who already makes a living by performing, and 
  who might already be known—by reputation, at 
  least—to the masters of the college (both genders 
  are usually called “masters,” addressed specifi-
  cally as “lord master” or “lady master”). However, 
  any recognition of such notoriety would not be 
  revealed. All would-be students are auditioned 
  
  THE ART
  187
  This was all TSR saw of Halruaa, the realm of mages, for quite some years. In part due to the Heartlands-centric focus of the original 
  Realmslore turnovers, and because the elaborate Halruaan society I was still developing (rules and unwritten etiquette, to account for why 
  a realm bristling with magic and skyships hadn’t destroyed itself long ago in a spellstorm cataclysm or conquered the rest of the Realms in 
  a casual afternoon) jarred with D&D’s freewheeling “adventurers go here and there and find or make trouble” style.
  
  Chapter 6
  188
  by at least one visible and one invisible (hearing, 
  but not seen) master. If these two listeners dis-
  agree on whether a candidate should be admitted, 
  additional auditions are necessary to come to a 
  decision.
   
  Colleges finance themselves by selling instru-
  ments and sheet music, and they take at least 
  half the gate at any public performance put on by 
  college students (such events are rare). Colleges 
  guarantee elaborate funerals and burials for pa-
  trons who endow them with sufficient funds, and 
  they undertake commissions (usually for rulers) 
  to compose music. In general, a student’s fees are 
  tied to his or her ability to pay. High fees aren’t 
  used as a barrier to admission, and at the same 
  time cartloads of coins can’t be used to bribe your 
  way in.
   
  One college is ranked over another purely by 
  opinion, which tends to sharply vary from indi-
  vidual to individual. To outsiders, there’s simply 
  no way to truly measure which college has the best 
  training or instructors, or the most talented pupils.
  ELVEN MUSIC
  The songs of elves are often wordless, or sung 
  with multiple overlapping voices singing dif-
  ferent words at once, making the lyrics hard to 
  distinguish for non-elven listeners. Elven songs 
  are almost always whimsical in places and tinged 
  with melancholy in others. The instrument most 
  closely associated with elves is the harp, but vari-
  ous pipes (flutelike horns) are also prevalent in 
  elven minstrelsy. Elven musical instruction usu-
  ally includes much more history than human 
  instruction does. It also deals with the nuances 
  of how emotion (primarily melancholy) shapes a 
  note as it is sung, providing memory spurs to lis-
  teners, and actual “tags” or footholds to elves who 
  work magic that brings forth three-dimensional 
  illusory images, so a song can be accompanied by 
  a shifting “galadrae” (movie) of animated images, 
  one melting into the next.
   
  Elves can reach higher notes with their voices 
  than most humans without their tone becoming 
  thin or strangled or going sharp or flat, and can 
  also hold notes longer. Elven musical instruction 
  works to develop these abilities. Certain elves 
  (the talent is genetic but not racial) can produce 
  a second “ghost” voice echoing their primary 
  vocalization, so an elf could sing, “ ’Twas in the 
  early gloaming mist, that first I saw thy danc-
  ing fair,” and could faintly sing again “gloaming 
  mist” simultaneously with “I saw thy.” Instruc-
  tion develops this ability, and also amplifies the 
  natural ability to produce dronesong, which is 
  a whistle and hum produced simultaneously—a 
  feat many humans can accomplish, too. Proper 
  instruction turns a drone voice into a finely 
  finished, controlled singing voice. The most com-
  mon elven musical ability, the skill of splitting 
  tone on a single held note to create a chord, is 
  also developed, allowing lone singers to end songs 
  with rich, full-throated chords.
   
  Elves typically understand more of the his-
  tory of a tune, its variants, and its various lyrics 
  than all but the most accomplished human bards. 
  Gnomes and halflings tend to be good at swift, 
  glib, and often humorous rhymes, and dwarves 
  prefer drones and plainsong (single note) chants.
  SPELLSONG
  Scattered across the countryside are a handful of 
  human and half-elven, and usually female, leg-
  endary individuals called spellsingers. They can 
  dance and sing in circles with other spellsingers, 
  usually around a fire or other central focus, to 
  combine and work magic too powerful for an in-
  dividual spellsinger to cast.
   
  The song of one such singer typically matches 
  a wizard’s cantrip in power, and the singing of 
  two can usually duplicate slightly more signifi-
  cant effects. Additional spellsingers of sufficient 
  skill can harmonize to boost the magical might of 
  spellsong exponentially.
   
  As with elven music (see above), the ability to 
  spellsing is inborn rather than something one can 
  acquire by instruction. Tutoring refines this tal-
  ent, affording the spellsinger additional control, 
  scope, and power. A successful spellsong can . . .
   
  — partially heal wounded or ill creatures lo-
  cated amid the singers.
   
  — send short, simple mental images, messages, 
  or “follow this thread” directions to a specific 
  individual personally known to a majority of the 
  spellsingers. (Two-way communication isn’t pos-
  sible unless the recipient individual casts a spell 
  establishing it.)
  
  THE ART
  189
  RALPH HORSLEY
   
  — thrust lesser undead or evil creatures away, 
  and keep them at bay.
   
  — cause nearby magic items to glow or “rise 
  up” or activate.
   
  The mightiest spellsingers can by their sing-
  ing call on the Weave to work spells like those of a 
  middling-level wizard or sorcerer.
   
  Long ago, spellsingers devised the simple code 
  used by Harpers, minstrels, and many others 
  that uses certain chords played or sung within 
  standard folk songs to send messages such as 
  “Danger; harken to me later to learn it.”
  MORE MAGIC
  It is a sometimes fatal mistake to think that all ar-
  cane magic is “of the Weave” (or, like the Shadow 
  Weave, built around the Weave). The Realms 
  is and has long been a crossroads for planar 
  travelers, many of whom bring other ways of 
  doing magic to Faerûn.
   
  Ancient cultures of the Realms have known 
  plume magic, table magic, truename magic, and 
  wild magic (as something wizards strove to mas-
  ter, or at least steer), to name just a few.
   
  The Weave has failed in the past, and much of 
  the work of the Chosen of Mystra is committed 
  to continuously repairing it and guarding against 
  perils to it, preventing the spread of any dam-
  age. Spellcasters have found other ways to work 
  magic—and still do. Magic evolves and progresses 
  through such innovations, down the ages.
   
  Magic in the Realms should never be some-
  thing stripped of mystery, something that 
  everyone can understand and “know all” about. 
  Like the wider Realms, there should always be 
  room for the new to slip in, to challenge—and 
  perhaps to astonish.
  Dwarves make things of lasting beauty; elves make music that moves the heart—to soothe, to mourn, to be plunged into sadness . . . or to 
  start wars.
  
  190
  AFTERWORD
  The present-day visage of Sir Ed of Greenwood, aka You Know 
  Who. Pensive, perhaps a bit playful . . . and pleased that the robe 
  still fits.
  
  191
  The end? So soon? Well, looking back over these 
  pages, I see thy chronicler hasn’t done as much 
  damage as I’d feared he might.
   
  This time.
   
  I might even, however grudgingly, say he’s 
  been a good keeper of secrets.
   
  Oh, aye, I said “keeper of secrets,” indeed. He’s 
  kept things from all of ye.
   
  And wisely.
   
  As in, his desire to retain his head led him to 
  be most wise to heed my kind suggestions.
   
  Ye see, secrets are powerful things. To know 
  a truth is to hold a sword. Fools and swaggerers 
  may bluster and wave such things about, but the 
  wise keep them hidden, to strike with swift and 
  sudden surprise when it’s needful to strike.
  So certain things are missing from these pages. 
  Some hinted at, and some not written of at all.
   
  The time will come when such tales can be 
  told. Who the beloved of Mirt of Waterdeep truly 
  was, for instance, or the grand and ancient plans 
  some Sharn pursue to this day. The fell deceits 
  of Larloch, and the greater ones of Ioulaum. The 
  six crowned skulls that lurk, and the seven whis-
  pers of Narnel. Not to mention the lost left ring 
  finger of Queen Filfaeril and why it should make 
  kingdoms tremble, or the great peril that yet lies 
  hidden—but now awake—in Teflamm. Nor yet 
  the curious matter of the deadly kiss of Lady 
  Cymraraun, or the doppelganger kingdoms—or 
  autharkhies, I should say, as their rulers style 
  themselves “autharkhs”—that overlap human 
  realms, unseen and unheeded. To say nothing 
  of the hidden politics of Faerûnian dragonkind, 
  that underlie so much in throne intrigues across 
  Faerûn, and led Vangerdahast of Cormyr to lay 
  aside his aging aches for draconic wings and 
  scales. Nor was he the first to do so.
   
  Aye, some tongues wag as recklessly as hot-
  headed knights swing swords, or power-hungry 
  mages hurl spells. They’d not stop one moment 
  to consider the consequences of revealing where 
  the phylactery of Larloch lies hidden, or the 
  Lost Sword of Athalantar that holds the soul of 
  a queen, nor yet the Nine Whispered Words that 
  can unlock the Crowns of Evermeet.
   
  Some would tell thee in a heartbeat how Gon-
  degal came back out of the mists, and what he 
  did then. Or of the city that lies buried a stone’s 
  throw from the Troll Mountains, and how and 
  when it may rise again. Or Maskalar’s secrets 
  of slicing open the living and sewing enchanted 
  items into their bodies, so magic imbues their 
  blood and changes them, healing and invigorat-
  ing. Two-and-twenty strong are the ranks of those 
  who serve him without knowing it, as I write this, 
  thanks to his control of the enchanted things 
  within them. Or of the flying helmed heads and 
  what they watch for.
   
  Yet the right day for such tellings is not this 
  day. If ye know not that a force invincible stands 
  athwart thy chosen path, the way to thy dreams, 
  ye may forge ahead heedless, and reach thy goal, 
  and so change the Realms. Which is a good thing, 
  for if the invincible cannot be beaten by those 
  who know no better, what is life for?
   
  Nor is there any end to secrets and interest-
  ing—nay, essential—lore of the Realms. It is a 
  world full of wonders and energetic folk, bathed 
  in endless torrents and eddies of intrigue and 
  confrontation and sly manipulation, a crossroads 
  amid other worlds visited by outlanders with 
  their own schemes and strivings. In short, a place 
  where no one—nay, not even sages and gods and 
  the privileged servants of gods, which is also to 
  say not even me—ever knows just what’s going to 
  happen next.
   
  Aye, even I, who can tell thee undergarment 
  fashions from the Frozenfar to verdant Comm-
  arth beyond Ulgarth, know not it all. Wherefore 
  the Realms continues to surprise me daily.
   
  It is my hope that it surprises you. That you 
  feel awe amid its mysteries and splendors. That 
  you never cease feeling such things.
   
  As thanks to this herald and many others, in 
  these pages and many before and to come, the 
  great tapestry of this world continues to unfold.
   
  Behold the Realms, from its lightless nether 
  depths to the stars that twinkle down upon it.
   
  Make it thine.
  Elminster of Shadowdale
        
  
  192
  
  EAN
  ISBN: 978-0-7869-6034-7
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  “ ’Tis the besetting doom of humans 
  that they forget. This was in fact why thy 
  mother or a teacher advised thee—just as 
  sages in the Realms advise Faerûnians—
  ‘Write it down.’ Well, now we have done 
  just that. ’Twas about time, too!”
  With those words, Elminster of 
  Shadowdale welcomes you to Faerûn 
  and invites you to join Ed Greenwood, 
  the creator of the Forgotten Realms® 
  setting, on a guided tour of his famous 
  world. This tome also presents never-
  before-seen notes and previously 
  unpublished material written by Ed 
  many years ago, when he and Faerûn 
  were both younger.
  Elminster’s Forgotten Realms™  
  is appropriate reading for fans  
  of all editions of the  
  Dungeons & Dragons® game.
  DungeonsandDragons.com
  ©2012 Wizards of the Coast LLC. Ed Greenwood Presents Elminster’s 
  Forgotten Realms, Wizards of the Coast, DUNGEONS & DRAGONS, 
  D&D, FORGOTTEN REALMS, and their respective logos are trademarks 
  of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the USA and other countries. 
  Manufactured by: Hasbro SA, Route de Courroux 6, 2800 Delemont, 
  CH. Represented by Hasbro Europe, Stockley Park, UB11 1AZ, UK.
  
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