The Red-eyed Owl

3C3P This is the closest thing Water- deep has to a "local"—a comfort¬able, unimpressive, welcoming gathering place for the neighbor¬hood. It is the kind of place where friends will come in and hail each other across the room, the food and drink will be pleas¬ant, if unspectacular, and you'll be allowed to sit in peace and while an evening away over a tankard or two. Food is a heavily spiced sea¬food stew (called coast chowder) or roast oxen done with a sweet- and-sour sauce and a dash of brandy to flame the outside as it's brought, blazing, to your table. Either way, it's 5 cp for a heaping platter or huge bowl (with huge slabs of fresh, warm crusty brown bread). Drink is 1 cp/tankard for ale, 2 cp for bitters, 3 cp for stout, 4 cp/ tallglass for zzar or red wine, and 5 cp for the rather sour white wine that is brought in from the proprietor's own land, and which he's inordinately fond of. It goes well with all sorts of cheese, though (especially the firmer, heartier sorts), and he sells it for carry-out at 2 sp/bottle or 1 gp for a half-anker keg. The Owl faces west. It is a rambling old wooden building that looks as if it's about to fall into the street. But it has looked that way for at least 40 winters, patrons assured me, and hasn't fallen down yet. It is the point of an arrowhead-shaped block bounded by Rainrun Street, the confluence of Gut Alley and Belnimbra's Street, Snail Street, and an unnamed alley. Proprietor: Balarg "Twofists" Dathen, a bluff, bristle-bearded man with long, unkempt red hair, owns and runs the tavern. His rough voice is much used for coarse jests, and he has an unut¬terably deadly aim with a hurled platter or tankard when anyone tries to start trouble.