Helmstar Warehouse

This old, slightly leaning stone structure looks most impressive— in a worn, seedy way. Its carved harpies and wyverns, encrusted with white caps of bird droppings, glare down endlessly on the bustle of the docks.

The Helmstar Warehouse is presently run by one of the third generation of Helmstars to trade on the docks of Waterdeep: Chuldan Helmstar.

Chuldan is one of the better-known fences of Waterdeep. He buys carvings and statuary of all sorts, no matter how recognizable and hot, for 35% of the current new-made market price. No value is given for any enchantments on or magical powers of items, only on their material, size, and workmanship.

Chuldan is one of very few Waterdhavians allowed by the guilds involved to hold dual membership in guilds that are often competitors: the Fellowship of Salters, Packers, and Joiners and the Guild of Watermen. He maintains this rare position by handsome annual payments over and above his dues to both guilds. It allows him to carry on his illicit trade, which is the great majority of his business. Stolen goods find shipboard ways out of Waterdeep in a variety of ingenious packagings devised and constructed by Chuldan and his skilled, discreet staff of fourteen.

Chuldan is a close-mouthed, birdlike, suspicious man with jet black eyes and hair. Always expecting double-dealing and betrayal, he is steps ahead of foes with contingency plans, escape routes, and surprises up one’s sleeve—and seems satisfied when such deceits occur, as if they confirm his forethought and views on the true natures of all intelligent races.

Chuldan deals in the handling of small cargo, from six barrels or a noble’'s coach to individual crates bound for friends and colleagues up and down the Sword Coast. His rates are high (2 to 6 sp per container), and he guarantees only same-season delivery. However, he has a large clientèle, because he is discreet, takes extra care in packing to ensure cargo safety and undertakes to threaten, trace, check on, and otherwise persuade hired carriers to make sure cargo they take coin from him to deliver is in fact delivered to the right party as soon as possible.

Few bother Chuldan, his goods, or his staff-word of his defenses and means of vengeance has spread. The high-vaulted, crowded warehouse is guarded by a band of margoyles whose loyalty to Chuldan seems unshakable. No one knows exactly how many of these creatures are lurking around the warehouse and Chuldan’'s rooftop apartments, or by what means he controls them. They hunt down any who molest him, trespass, or try to steal.

On occasions Chuldan has found it necessary to explain certain things to professionally curious men of the city watch. Usually his explanations concern a severed head, newly added to the end of a row of withered fellow trophies above Chuldan’s front counter. Chuldan'’s words tend to reflect the view that this latest head, like the earlier ones, came in a recently unloaded cargo from far and barbarous lands, and has something to do,

he understands, with barbarian beliefs about guardian spirits that watch over goods while they travel afar. That certain of the heads seem familiar, closely resembling recently vanished rogues and ruffians of the city is something that troubles, puzzles, and indeed mystifies Chuldan over and over again.

Chuldan invites all passers-by to poke their noses into his warehouse to see the care he takes over cargo and the speed and volume of his business. He hopes (correctly) that many will be impressed - —either to use his services or to refrain from trying to steal from him.

The lore of Dock Ward says the ghost of Chuldan'’s famous adventuring father, the bearded and brawling warrior Thalagar Helmstar, drifts around the warehouse - —its sewer door, in particular - —in tattered splint mail, battle axe in hands, defending Helmstar territory. The ghost is said to have routed more than one thieving band who used magic to neutralize the margoyles. Thalagar especially hated lizard men, and on certain mist-shrouded nights, old sailors say he can be seen striding silently but speedily along the length of Dock Street, storm-like of visage, axe in hand.

Some of the carvings on the second floor ledge and roof of the warehouse are crumbling away. A shattered, fallen harpy was recently found on Dock Street one morning below its customary perch. Under it was the flattened body of an unfortunate thief, still clutching the climbing line that had pulled the carving down atop her. Chuldan Helmstar had the missing rooftop carving replaced with a detailed carving that shows a crouching, terrified-looking human female in leathers holding one end of a climbing cord, and took great pleasure in pointing it out to visitors for the next few rides.