Frandor's Keep Preview - Kenzer & Company

Larzon Bayz tightened his grip on the bag slung over his
shoulder as he stared at the small group of boys blocking
his way to the foot of the bridge. He tucked his coin purse
under his belt and gritted his teeth before running the gauntlet of
dirty hands — all tugging at his tunic and vying for attention,
pointing him out to others as a ‘puzhan,’ or ‘stranger.’
“You looking for guide, Puzhan? You look for woman?”
“Hey, Puzhan — I carry your things? Very cheap!”
“Here, stranger — here. I am the very best guide and
interpreter.”
“You looking for room, Puzhan? Hot meal...?
He pushed his way past the buzzing gnats, roughly shoving one
small lad and sending him flying onto his backside in the mud. One
of the guards posted at the bridge’s entrance belly-laughed at the
sight.
“Careful, stranger — some of them shove back.”
He turned his head toward the brink of the falls where it passed
under the bridge — its waters plummeting over 200 feet to the
rocks below. His meaning understood, Larzon gave him a
thankful nod of the head and moved past him.
The bounty hunter had been to Frandor’s Keep many times
before, but he’d never become accustomed to the knee-knocking
200-pace trek across the bridge leading to the First Gate. No, he’d
never gotten used to any of it - the rush of water under stone
arches, the roar of the falls, the boards slick with mist and the view
of nothingness where the earth seemingly fell away.
Although the locals boast that they rarely think twice of crossing
the bridge, for newcomers it takes a bit of faith to make that trek.
Even the godless need faith — in Baparan engineering — that the
entire thing wouldn’t simply be swept over the edge.
It didn’t help matters that Larzon had a mild fear of heights.
At long last, he reached First Gate and the Outer Bailey. The
two guards stationed there were more interested in making small
talk with an attractive maiden toting a basket of wax berries than
doing their jobs, and he quickly moved past them toward the next
gate.
He was beginning to think he would, just for once, make it inside
the Keep without being molested. Then, one of the guards he had
passed yelled out.
“You there — Stop!”
Larzon feigned he hadn’t heard the command and continued.
“I said halt!!”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“You addressing me...?”
“What’s in the sack?”
Larzon slung the bag from his shoulder and turned around.
Facing the guard he held the bloody sack up with one hand and
shook it.
“Heads — I’m here to collect the bounties on ‘em.”
The guard’s face brightened. “Orcs....?”
Larzon shook his head. “Naaah, a pair of goblins — caught ‘em
pokin’ about the Shelf two yesterdays ago.”
The guard waved him off with his hand. “Meh — goblins.
There’s no fight in that.”
The bounty hunter shrugged and continued on his way.
The guard was right. There was no challenge in taking goblin
heads — and no money. Three weeks at the Keep and all he had
to show for it was making enough coin to cover drinks and whores.
He needed to make some real money.
Orcs, gnoles... Now, there was a challenge. Creatures that
fetched a better price and often carried a bit of treasure on them as
a bonus. Unfortunately, going after them also required partners
— somebody trustworthy enough to watch your back in a fight,
rather than putting a knife in it.
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