The Ship's Prow

The Ship'’s Prow rises four floors above the street. Years of wind and weather have turned the old boards of its upper floors and outside balconies silvery. In the moonlight on a clear night, it gleams from afar down the dark dockside streets. Inside, the floors are so warped that they rise and fall in smooth curves, like the deck of a ship in the swells. The place is shabby, but feels comfortable and homelike.

This inn is surprisingly quiet inside, and a cozy place to sleep as such things are judged in Dock Ward. It provides an ideal haven for tired travelers newly arrived in the city and not flush enough to find beds in a better area. Its also a trysting place for masked young nobles of Waterdeep out on a lark, not wanting to be seen by their peers (I marked at least 11 such couples on my stay), and a refuge for drunken sailors looking for a bed to snore in, rather than things to smash or bodies to cuddle or punch.

There’'s nothing stronger than water to be had, nor can you get anything more to eat than smoked firefin, strong cheese, and hardloaf bread, bolstered in winter only with a bowl of hot fish-head soup (for 1 tp a person, in addition to room rates). The water is brought by the barrel from wells near Amphail and laced with crushed mint. It stands in jugs in every room, and can also be had for the asking as clear, hot tea.

The inn'’s peace and survival in the face of the ever-present danger of fire is due to the interwoven protective spells of the resident wizard and part-time cook, Shryndalla “"Were-Eye”" Ghaulduth. She’'s an ugly but cheerful old soul who pads around in worn slippers and food-stained robes, accompanied by an entourage of cats.

The master of the house is a one-eyed, scarred and silver-bearded retired sailor, Jhambrote Harkhardest. He's genial and soft-spoken, but ever alert - and never lacks a short sword and an axe at his belt. The axe is magical. I saw an eye open on its blade and swivel around to take in all present. It winked shut in an instant when it saw me watching, but I saw what I saw.

Jhambrote doesn't go out much, and has standing arrangements with the guilds for supplies. He turns away rowdy would-be guests and those dealing in shady goods with cold looks and grim words, and seems to have no truck with smugglers - nor with the city watch.

Rooms can be had for 4 tp to 1 sp per night (larger rooms and higher floors are dearer), or 3 sp to 7 sp per tenday. Most are 6 tp per night or 5 sp per tenday.

Linen is changed daily and the fee buys a single bath per night, if one desires, stabling for a single animal, and unlimited drinking water. I, myself, would advise not availing oneself of a bath in harbor water, which smells of fish or worse. The stabling is around the back and is crowded and unheated, but feed is provided for stabled mounts.

I'’m given to understand this inn is notorious among longtime inhabitants because it once housed evil beings of the infamous Cult of the Dragon. The Lords of the City are said to have given the present proprietor title to the place to keep an eye on it after the spectacular passing of his predecessor.

About 20 winters back, the inn was kept by one Halagaster Brutheen, who acquired it in mysterious circumstances from Ulcap Rhiddyn, who just disappeared one day. When the Brandished Blade, a company of

adventurers, came to stay (by chance, most say), the fury of the gods reigned in the Ship'’s Prow— for on sight they knew Halagaster as a magically disguised red dragon on the run from them. This Halagaster-wyrm had devoured the unfortunate Rhiddyn and taken his place, aided and paid court to here by the fell folk of the Dragon Cult.

There was great battle that night, and if the Watchful Order had not been alert and plentiful, much of the ward might well have burned. In the end, the wyrm was slain, and the Dragon Cult routed through the streets. No trace was found of the wyrm’'s hoard. Cultists have skulked about the inn and kept a watchful eye over it ever since - seeking the dragons hoard or something else of value they’'ve not yet found.

Some say the dragon hollowed out a large cellar beneath the place, devouring unfortunates whose adjoining cellars he broke into. No trace of such a warren has been found, and a docker I talked with told me that in that area a large cellar would soon flood or buildings above would collapse down into it.

When I asked host Harkhardest about this disguised dragon, he rolled a slow and cold eye around to stare levelly into my gaze, and suggested I talk to the city watch, if I was so very interested in such dangerous matters.