The Broken Goblet
When pirates and lawless folk come to brawl and carouse, their first thought is to roll into the Goblet swords drawn, and swagger as they promenade along the raised entry dais and down toward the bar. Its the place to be seen -- and the place to be killed in, if the body count of the last few years is any indication. Don't go here unless you're very good with a blade, alert, have a lot of well-armed friends with you, and are protected against poisons.
A spell such as ironguard (which renders one immune to metal bladed
weapons for a time) is an ideal protection here, but beware, this place is strongly warded, and the defenses permit only existing defensive spells to continue. Newly cast spells are twisted and lost, without effect. The defenses also whisk all missiles (hurled glasses, daggers, darts, bolts, and arrows alike) up into gentle contact with the ceiling. This prevents broken glasses -- for drink is served here in ornately carved and blown glasses, some of which are exquisitely beautiful, and rather more of which are simply rude.
THE PLACE:
The Goblet consists of a dark taproom with stone floors, massive wooden support pillars and furnishings (trestle tables, wall benches, and high-backed wooden chairs), and candle lamps. The latter can be raised and lowered on chains via ceiling pulleys and from hooks located behind the bar, and consist of wagon wheels that each support a circle of seven to nine fat candles, each set in a buckler to catch the melted wax. A favorite trick during a brawl is to leap behind the bar and undo the hooks, sending the heavy lamps plummeting down atop the tables. The danger of fire makes this tactic grounds for ejection -- dead or alive.The staff here go armed with daggers, boot knives, and steel knuckle spikes. Overly amorous patrons are warned that the large men with many
scars are large men with many scars, but the buxom wenches with the long
lashes and ready smiles are doppelgangers. They often respond to overly familiar touches with a dagger strike and a shift in the form of one hand into a loose curtain of flesh that can be slapped over a patron's face to smother or blind him!
The street door is guarded by two house guards with orders to keep it clear so that access is denied to none. Brawls are thus prevented from erupting on the way in and out the door and harming trade. This has the effect of allowing each patron to make a grand entrance on the raised entry dais, which overlooks the taproom from behind a safety rail. A trophy of a long-ago brawl decorates this smoothed oak tree-trunk railing: A black-bladed battle axe split the rail in two and crashed down to bury itself haft-deep in the edge of the floor beneath. Its owner did not live long enough to get it free -- so the proprietors of the tavern left it there as a warning.
From the taproom, many small, shadowy stairs lead down to jakes (a dangerous place known for stabbings and impromptu body disposals, with
direct connections to the tidal sewers) and up to private drinking rooms, some of which have sliding panels offering egress to side alleys. Lighting is
always scanty in the Goblet, and a ghostpipes spell provides gentle background music to cover most conversations from casual eavesdropping.
THE PROSPECT:
There are constant rumors that the staff and ownership of the Goblet are not human -- and consist of beings far more deadly than the doppleganger wenches. Most folk believe that some fell power runs the tavern. Its wardings are certainly strong, and spells have been deflected from them that hurled back or slew large mercenary attacking forces sent to cleanse or raid Roaringshore. (Those bearing a ward token can cast spells within the tavern.) The truth, according to one Harper, is that illithids rule this tavern and use their powers to gather information about the illicit doings of the Sword Coast from the guests who come here. (Footnote: The Harper is right, Elminster confirms -- after which he sarcastically thanked Volo for revealing only what is prudent about Roaringshore.)