A Pair of Black Antlers
This tavern stands on the west side of Maidensbridge Street, just south of where it swings westward to cross the bridge it is named for and run around the northern end of the central heights of the city to link up with Westerly. Outside the city, A Pair of Black Antlers is the best known of Elturel's taverns because it's the gathering place for those who seek adventure. Old, retired warriors, young and bright-eyed would-bes, and weary adventurers alike all come here.
The walls of A Pair of Black Antlers are decorated over the bar with a truly gigantic rack of antlers. I climbed up on the bar - as many others have done before - to measure them, marveling. They're fully 20 feet across! The walls are also dotted with the relics and trophies of many adventurers: old, notched and scarred weapons; split shields; the heads, tails, and claws of sundry shocked-looking, dusty, long - dead monsters; and fading maps, bloodstained and covered with angry error-correcting scribbles, of old castle dungeons, dwarven holds, tombs, and other subterranean complexes that presumably once held rich treasures. (Some of these maps may well be palpable forgeries.)
Wood-paneled, dimly lit, and apt to be smoky (the fireplace doesn't draw properly), this cozy place is a maze of stone support pillars, low, massive overhead beams, and dark, massive furniture salvaged from old villas and castles. If things are too dark to see an interesting-looking map or missive, one of three blue-hued driftglobes can be called for - but this will draw the attentive eyes of many patrons in the labyrinthine, many-leveled taproom.
Tourism
No adventurer's visit to Elturel is complete without a stop at the Antlers. Many adventures have begun in its taproom - and many more likely will. The Antlers is the place to hear gossip about adventuring, join a band, hire swordswingers for a plan of your own, or get hired to carry out another dreamer's plan. Need a curse lifted or some other spell cast? The patrons here will know who to call on and where they can be found, for the price of a tankard. Want to hear tales that chill the blood or splendid songs of daring deeds? This is the place. Want to impress a likely looking young blade of the other sex? Beware - some of them may be dopplegangers or shapeshifting mages - but then, you wanted adventure. . . .
See them riding home again.
Bright their shields, bright their chain—
The Knights of Dragon Down. They have gone where shadows creep.
Their blades a bloody harvest reap.
Another dragon put fore’er asleep
By the Knights of Dragon Down. On their fingers gem rings gleam.
Of such baubles, the very cream
Falls into the hands, in a steady stream,
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. In a dark hall a lady sits alone,
Her bright eyes gleam as white as bone.
Her dark spells a-hunting roam
For the Knights of Dragon Down. With cruel smile, a web she weaves.
From each might, his soul she cleaves.
Armored bones are all she leaves
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. Riding, riding, their skulls a-grin—
Past the gates, the Knights ride in.
Sorcery now their souls doth spin
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. Ladies scream at the touch of bone,
As skeletal Knights come riding home.
Undead now, fore’er to roam,
Are the Knights of Dragon Down. Minstrels used to add a verse to the end of this, late at night: Hear them riding, nearer outside.
Never sleeping, doomed to ride.
There’s no place where you can hide
From the Knights of Dragon Down. This verse has been outlawed in Elturel, because some fiendishly evil archmage of the city wove a summoning spell into the words that swiftly brought undead to whoever sang them. They're still whispered across many a dying campfire in the Realms by those brave (or foolish) enough to risk the coming of seven skeletal warriors riding as many skeletal horses - or whatever lesser undead show up instead. (Elminster can sing, but can‚t write down tunes as we do. He says this ballad is usually chanted to a dark, intricate harp melody in Faerûn - but it can be sung to a quite different melody: the tune of the traditional Celtic song of our world, 'Down by the Sally Gardens.'
The Provender
The heartily cheerful staff of the Antlers are all ex-adventurers of a great variety of ages, races, and appearances. They pour out drinks with generous hands - no one need feel slighted here. One can also purchase salted biscuits, slabs of sharp-tasting onion cheese, river clams, and gurdats (pan-fried, pepper-spiced mushrooms in a melted cheese batter).The Prices
Ale is 3 cp per tankard (large, battered pewter reservoirs) or 7 cp per hand keg, stout is 5 cp per tankard, and wine starts at 6 cp per tallglass and rises to 9 cp a glass for the best vintages. Sherries, zzar, and brandies are all 1 sp per tall-glass. Elverquisst, the most expensive drink in the house, is 4 gp per tallglass. All servings of provender are 6 cp a plate, which provides a light meal. Two plates would serve as a nice repast.Travelers' Lore
The Antlers has about as many hidden treasure legends as any drinking house associated with adventurers. Some of them may even be true. The staff would like me to mention that the one about the sacks of gold being hidden under the boards of the taproom is false. They're tired of patrons trying to pry up boards when they think no one's looking, and every single board's been up several times by now. The patrons have adopted one bardic ballad (given following) as their favorite drinking song. This song is a nightly favorite at the Antlers. Woe befall any minstrel who shows up to play without a sensitive mastery of it - the ability to sing and play it with mournful, macabre skill. It's a bardic standard, but here it has the revered status of an anthem to fallen comrades, proud adventurers still living - and the dark humors of gods. who must be appeased.The Knights of Dragon Down
Riding, riding across the plain,See them riding home again.
Bright their shields, bright their chain—
The Knights of Dragon Down. They have gone where shadows creep.
Their blades a bloody harvest reap.
Another dragon put fore’er asleep
By the Knights of Dragon Down. On their fingers gem rings gleam.
Of such baubles, the very cream
Falls into the hands, in a steady stream,
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. In a dark hall a lady sits alone,
Her bright eyes gleam as white as bone.
Her dark spells a-hunting roam
For the Knights of Dragon Down. With cruel smile, a web she weaves.
From each might, his soul she cleaves.
Armored bones are all she leaves
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. Riding, riding, their skulls a-grin—
Past the gates, the Knights ride in.
Sorcery now their souls doth spin
Of the Knights of Dragon Down. Ladies scream at the touch of bone,
As skeletal Knights come riding home.
Undead now, fore’er to roam,
Are the Knights of Dragon Down. Minstrels used to add a verse to the end of this, late at night: Hear them riding, nearer outside.
Never sleeping, doomed to ride.
There’s no place where you can hide
From the Knights of Dragon Down. This verse has been outlawed in Elturel, because some fiendishly evil archmage of the city wove a summoning spell into the words that swiftly brought undead to whoever sang them. They're still whispered across many a dying campfire in the Realms by those brave (or foolish) enough to risk the coming of seven skeletal warriors riding as many skeletal horses - or whatever lesser undead show up instead. (Elminster can sing, but can‚t write down tunes as we do. He says this ballad is usually chanted to a dark, intricate harp melody in Faerûn - but it can be sung to a quite different melody: the tune of the traditional Celtic song of our world, 'Down by the Sally Gardens.'
Type
Pub / Tavern / Restaurant
Parent Location
Comments