The Gentle Mermaid

Alone in the interior of a city block bounded by the High Road and Copper, Sulmoor, and Hassantyr'’s Streets, the Gentle Mermaid is a huge stone pile of turreted and balconied splendor. Its exterior is the result of several rich merchant owners with more wealth than taste adding their ideas onto an already ostentatious but abandoned noble house.

Within, everything is carpets, tapestries, curtains, and hangings. Soft lights, subtle perfumes, and magical heat dominate the rooms and passages to make the Mermaid a place of cozy warmth, active the night and day through, with evening the busiest time. Many come to lose money at the gaming tables-—or spend it to enjoy the company of the charming and beautiful escorts of both genders on the Mermaid staff.

The upper floors have been turned into a labyrinth of lounges, cozy bowers, private rooms, and secret passages which are used by staff and by certain famous clients who wish to avoid being seen. At least one such passage enters the Mermaid underground, running from the rear of a nearby shop.

The Mermaid prides itself on serene, above-snobbery luxury in creating a home that nobles will prefer to their own. Unpleasantness of any sort is stamped out, swiftly and ruthlessly and the wealthy are encouraged to spend

as much time losing money at the gaming tables as they wish. The less wealthy are encouraged to drift about watching—-before being deftly chosen by escorts who steer them upstairs to a lounge where each guest can choose a companion to while away a pleasant time with.

Table fees are a silver piece a seat. This entitles a guest to a starter glass of whatever sparkling vintage is being served at that table and to as many snacks from passing silver platters as they'’re bold enough to take. The canapés consist of crab rolls, smoked salmon and silverfin daggers (slivers of fish, served on slices of lemon or lime), pickle and cheese skewers, olive or nut cups, and spicy sausage finger rolls. They are utterly delicious!

Wine and spirits of all sorts may be had, but they are dear: 1 sp/glass or 12 sp/bottle, regardless of what is being drunk. Escorts sell their time and company for 60 sp for an hour to 10 times that for an entire evening, depending on the escorts fame, whim, and beauty. The Mermaid takes 20% of all fees collected.

The Mermaid has over 40 efficient, hard-working escorts, a dozen of whom are male. In the past at least one doppleganger has been ferreted out of their midst. The Mermaid’'s owner now interviews and auditions each escort carefully. Beautiful folk of wealthy or refined breeding and merry sensual natures are desired. Waterdeep attracts many such folk-—and the Mermaid ignores the past of any staff, so long as they perform suitably while on duty.

There are two dozen or so security staff (bouncers), under the command of Housemaster Eiraklon Marimmatar, who sits with the watch wizards while his second in command, Ulthlo Relajatyr, marshals and directs the staff on the floor. There’'s a very old Mermaid joke: "“More than just looking? Look down, then. The escort on the floor will help you.”"

The Mermaid was founded and for a long time owned by Lady Shaeroon Brossfeather a colorful old dowager of strong will, wit, and intelligence who sponsored poets and other free thinkers and speakers, had many dear—-er—-friends, and backed unusual causes, getting herself loved by the common folk and disowned by her kin in the process. She died recently. Ownership of the Mermaid passed to the mysterious Jhant Daxer, a caravan owner and moneylender little known in the city.

A guest who only gambles for part of an evening can expect to pay out 12 to 15 sp in fees and usually lose two to three times that. Large wins are rare. Small wins occur just often enough to keep guests coming back for more.

Tipping is common. Some regular guests give triple a table fee to get a seat at their favorite table. To get a table alone or to get control of who sits there, such as the noble matrons playing solitaire, costs 14 sp, but that includes a personal waiter or waitress whose gender is of the guests choice. To get the use of one of the curtained, private gaming side chambers costs double that. Each holds one table. A dozen of these private gaming side chambers open off the main gaming room.

Several tales cling to the Mermaid involving guests who have mysteriously disappeared—-and a few lucky winners who staggered out burdened by many gold pieces. The two most interesting tales are also the darkest: the death card and the haunted chessmen. These are not popular topics of discussion in the Mermaid. Those inquiring over-boldly can expect to swiftly see the street outside.

The death card is still drawn from time to time, though no staff member ever puts it in a deck, nor has it a place in any game. It is thought to be the result of an ancient wizard’s curse, and consists of a card that appears in any deck used in the Mermaid. Its face consists of a laughing skull on a black field. A chilling laugh is heard as the card is uncovered, and a spectral, cowled figure rises up from the card, flying about and swinging a scythe. It attacks the being who drew the card, and its weapon can slay. The touch of almost any spell makes it and the card disappear. The watch wizards are always alert for the appearance of this Hooded Death.

The haunted chessmen are now destroyed or hidden away. They are a set of pieces of unknown origin, used in the strange game brought to Waterdeep by wizards who learned it, Realmslore generally attests, on other worlds. These chessmen moved about the board of their own accord when unattended. In their own eerie games, captured pieces toppled over and changed forms to resemble living folk— whose death they foretold. What animated these grim gaming pieces, and where they are now none can or will say.