LOST TRAILS 10 ZHENTIL KEEP

[Adam]

This place reminds Bennedict too much of what hes read of the Western Core's perpetual menace, Falcovnia. He turns the collar of his overcoat up against the cold and hurries to the Inn, trying to keep a low profile. Once there he'll make arrangements for the group's lodging.

[ewancummins]

This place reminds Bennedict too much of what hes read of the Western Core's perpetual menace, Falcovnia. He turns the collar of his overcoat up against the cold and hurries to the Inn, trying to keep a low profile. Once there he'll make arrangements for the group's lodging.

THE BARROWHILL INN
Following a lane that snakes uphill between tall old houses and shops with half-drawn shutters, Benn finds the inn Klokulf had chosen.
It's hard to miss.
Six stories of gray masonry, the Barrowhill seems higher still because of the low hill it stands upon. Sickly ivy creeps up the eastern wall. Stout doors reinforced with iron bands and narrow windows set with bars give the place a fortress-like appearance.
Narrow alleys divide the building from lower structures on the left and right.

A cadaverous doorman dressed in a charcoal-hued coat appears in the doorway as Benn draws near.
He stares at Benn with dull eyes.
''Room, Master?"

[ewancummins]

KAT AND RAEN
AT THE SLAUGHTERED OX

Kat simply stares coldly at Klokulf displaying no interest in where he will be and not making any statement that she will meet where he says, or anywhere else. She waits until he stops talking and moves on with no reply.

Arriving at the inn she settles at a table and orders something that sounds safe.

“So, what now?”

Out of the corner of her right eye, Kat sees someone drawing near her table.

Before Raen, distracted for a moment by the hubbub at the bar, can make a complete, clear response to Kat's question, a hulking figure in a gray cape yanks out a chair and sits down next to the burglar-woman.
Short yellow tusks protrude from between the stranger's liver-hued lips and his eyes glow red in the shadows of the dim barroom. Brass rings glint on the leathern jack stretched over his massive torso. Kat notes the big battleaxe slung at his shoulder.
"Woman. I am Krunk. Woman drink? Woman eat?" The tusked stranger sets three silver coins on the table and then leans closer, favoring Kat with a whiff of his hot, onion-scented breath.
"Woman got mate?"
He jerks a big, black-nailed thumb at Raen.

[Adam]

"Yes," Bennedict replies, "Or more properly, a set of rooms." He lays out the sleeping arrangements the group has used on their few stops at Inns together thus far.

[ewancummins]

"Yes," Bennedict replies, "Or more properly, a set of rooms." He lays out the sleeping arrangements the group has used on their few stops at Inns together thus far.

BARROWHILL INN

The gaunt doorman smiles.
"Of course, Master. All arrangements will be made to your party's satisfaction, I am sure. Please to follow me."
he opens the door and makes room for Benn to enter the lobby.

[ewancummins]

ZHENTIL KEEP
Apart from encounters with an amorous half-orc, a few wheedling harlots, and assorted bootlickers and toadies in search of meal-tickets, no one bothers the adventurers during the party’s brief stay in Zhentil Keep. No pickpockets or muggers, no guards demanding bribes. But certain strangers do seem to be watching them rather too closely for comfort, before vanishing...

That night at the Barrowhill Inn the travelers sleep two to a room for safety and economy. Distant screams and less describable noises drift up from the streets below now and again during the night, but otherwise the long night passes without incident.

After settling with the innkeeper (they had to pay half up front) the adventurers are free to depart the city. And they all do, except Klokulf and his hanger-on

VIEW CONTENT:

(or whatever exactly she is)

Alwina. The Lawgiver’s priest has elected to remain behind for "further research." Phlan being less than eighty miles distant, he assures his companions he will join them soon.

Supplied with provisions bought in Thargate Market, the party crosses one of the two great bridges that connects the bluffs on either side of the deep, swirling mouth of the River Tesh.
Tonio hikes behind Sir Clive’s horse, looking less grim than yesterday, though hardly cheerful.
The heroes’ route leads them through narrow, crowded, noisy streets that run between high rows of stone buildings and then out a gate in the eastern wall and onto the hardpacked earthen road that leads to Phlan.

The Moonsea's blue expanse passes in and out of sight to the south, the right-side, as the trail runs past hills and curves further north or south in its easterly course.

Rain starts by highsun, but lasts only long enough to create small mud puddles and dampen the road-grit.

The travellers make excellent time the first day and camp that night out of sight of the walls of Zhentil Keep, in the lee of a big hill north of the road screened from the chill winds by a copse of scraggly pines.


Tonio seems to take some pleasure in caring for the donkeys and horses, whispering to the beasts and combing their hair with his fingers and feeding one, a piebald donkey that has taking a liking to him, bits of dried apples and hard bread.

As night falls, the winds drive away the clouds, uncovering the fat gold-silver half-moon and the array of twinkling lesser silvery lights that hang near it outshining the myriad stars.

Beyond the camp, wild dogs howl, hidden by darkness and distance.


END OF CHAPTER