Originally the dwelling of a druid, this remote woodland retreat has served in turn as an ogre’s lair, a brigands’ redoubt, and ultimately a noble hunting lodge. It passed to the Crown after the last Goldfeather lord was executed for treason by King Dhalmass in 1191 DR. Since then, it has been reserved for the royal family, the three royal noble houses (Crownsilver, Huntsilver, and Truesilver), and select others fortunate enough to receive invitation.

Some seventy years ago, lesser nobles competed fiercely for the privilege of risking life and limb in pursuit of stag and boar with spear in hand. A fortunate few even hunted from the enchanted flying saddle of Thamos—until that remarkable item vanished. Rumor claims it was stolen by a destitute noble in the employ of a Sembian wizard who hoped to replicate its magic but never succeeded. The fashionable rush to hunt at the Steads has long since ebbed, though a stay here remains something of a rite of passage for young male nobles.

The Place

The lodge itself is a marvel of subtle construction. Dug into low hillsides, layered with moss, and shielded by saplings that have grown into sturdy trees, it appears to rise naturally from the forest floor like some great turtle half-submerged in greenery. Travelers often do not glimpse it until they are nearly at its doors.

Within, the air is cool, dim, and faintly damp—save for the great circular dining chamber, where an immense hearth large enough to roast three deer or boars at once casts warmth and golden light. For those untroubled by the lingering moisture, the Stead is a secure and comfortable refuge amid one of the loveliest forests accessible to humankind.

The Prospect

Access to the Stead remains by invitation only. In recent years, however, Vangerdahast has convened War Wizard gatherings here, and Princess Alusair Nacacia—along with certain spirited young Huntsilvers—has used the lodge as a discreet retreat. Thus, the occasional untitled guest has hunted from its halls for a few days at a time.

Stays rarely exceed six or seven nights, or at most a tenday. Those who attempt longer residence are courteously—but firmly—asked to depart, if necessary by the Royal Magician himself, summoned by message stone. A hidden teleport gate somewhere within the lodge’s shadowed rear chambers links directly to the Palace of the Purple Dragon in Suzail. Through it pass royals, War Wizards, their attendants, and even flat stones wrapped in written messages whenever urgency demands.

Despite more than two centuries of steady use, the surrounding hunting remains plentiful. Local rumor insists the War Wizards magically replenish game in this stretch of the King’s Forest. Bards—especially elves and half-elves—are drawn to the Stead’s lush surroundings. Yet if royalty or senior War Wizards are in residence, any bard who arrives unannounced can expect a magically assisted inquiry to determine precisely who they are—and what undisclosed powers they may command—before hospitality is granted.

The Provender

Meals at the Stead feature fern-and-fiddlehead soup, morels and woodland vegetables, alongside roast boar, venison, and grouse. The fare varies little, but the wine cellar is exceptional, and the cook’s sauces lend welcome variety to the meats. Best of all—for invited guests—everything is provided without charge.

Bards are not paid for their performances, but they stay free of cost. Travelers without invitation may camp at a nearby forest clearing and purchase a single evening’s meal from a serving window set into one wall of the lodge. Purple Dragon hunters, aided by War Wizards disguised as foresters, ensure that campers do not linger beyond their allotted night. Those tempted to sneak closer under cover of darkness should know that concealed War Wizards—perhaps seeing through the eyes of woodland creatures—keep careful watch.

The Places

Travelers buying food at the window pay 1 gp per platter. Each platter, a sturdy oval of metal stamped with the full-faced head of a magnificent stag, holds a generous serving for one hungry soul—and is theirs to keep. These stamped platters are much sought after by socially ambitious Cormyreans. Wine costs 4 gp per bottle, and passable ale may be had for 2 gp per hand keg. Drinks are served in their containers, with plain clay cups available upon request.

Travelers’ Lore

Guests may roam the forest freely, but unless they are frequent visitors or members of the royal houses, they are strongly encouraged to hire a local guide. The most persuasive advocate of this arrangement is Bald Jhawn, the head huntsman—a massively muscled wrestler with an endless store of stories concerning hunting mishaps and the “weirds of the woods.”

Among the badged foresters, the most celebrated is Tlumbel Droun, a mischievous half-elf. More readily available are Bald Jhawn himself and the taciturn Ithaglor Bruensal, Dreth Milyntyr, and Doalogh Dultor. Fees range from 1 to 6 gp per day depending on the hunter chosen and the quarry sought. All are skilled trappers, skinners, and woodsmen familiar with the forest trails and notable sites such as Oadal’s Stand and the Mushroom Dell.

Oadal’s Stand is a hollow ring of towering shadowtops, named for a mage said to have perished there in a duel centuries ago. The Mushroom Dell is a mist-filled bowl in the woods where no trees grow, its floor carpeted in moss and mushrooms—many edible. Locals claim some of these growths conceal the bones of brigands slain in battle against the Purple Dragons long ago.

For a few extra coins, guides will also lead hunters off the paths to overgrown ruins said to be remnants of long-fallen noble keeps. As ever in Cormyr, rumor insists such places are thick with ghosts, treasure, and monster-haunted catacombs—though local legends seldom promise anything less.

Most visitors depart with full bellies, salted meat for their larders—whether personally slain or merely assisted in the slaying—and perhaps a mounted stag or boar’s head. Several locals prepare such trophies for 5 to 10 gp depending on size and urgency. The finest taxidermist is Old Martya, whose cottage stands two dwellings west of the Stead.

Yet some hunters return year after year seeking the elusive Ghost Stag—a great white beast said to vanish when cornered. Senior War Wizards frequenting the Stead assure me it is no undead apparition but a living creature possessed of natural teleportation and perhaps other psionic gifts that allow it to evade both arrow and spell alike.