The Tomb of Horrors Read Online Free PDF

fortress-like appearance, the City of Rel Mord
was abuzz with domestic life. Traders and merchants of all races and
nationalities drove wagons teeming with bolts of brightly-colored cloth, silks,
and woven fabrics toward the market, while a seemingly endless train of
livestock and other animals plodded their way through the wide streets. Soldiers
patrolled the lanes and avenues, some as bored as the gate guard, others careful
to watch the collection of street urchins, beggars, and musicians that wove in
and out of the passing crowd.
    Drawing close to the market, Kaerion could hear the strident
call of booth merchants and the hum of commerce taking place in a variety of
languages and dialects. Common, Baklunish, and Flan mixed with the tongues of
elves, dwarves, and even a few gnomes to form a multi-layered wave of sound that
washed over the two companions.
    Despite the outward signs of life, Kaerion clearly felt the
same sense of quiet desperation that had greeted both he and Gerwyth on their
journey south toward the city. The music and laughter and tenor of the entire
city seemed just a bit too loud and forced, the faces of its citizens a bit too
wary, or worse, apathetic. Walking through its streets, Kaerion could see a film
of dirt covering the magnificence of its stone temples and buildings. Even the
royal palace, which had quickened the beat of his heart with its martial
splendor, now seemed hollow and empty, like an ancient tomb, as the two
adventurers drew closer. Nyrond had been a kingdom divided, sapped of strength
by war and betrayal, and it was clear to Kaerion that the wounds had still not
healed.
    As they moved deeper into the city, the press of the crowd
eased somewhat. Streets narrowed, wood and stone buildings drew closer together,
and the anxious stamp of merchant feet was replaced by the soft-soled tread of
robed priests, royal messengers, and court functionaries, who carried on their
business with an air of self-conscious dignity. Kaerion’s heart lurched for a
moment as he caught sight of several mailed priests of Heironeous heading right
toward them.
    He must have stopped in his tracks, for Gerwyth spoke in a
gentle voice at his side, “Peace, Kaer. Let us be about our business.”
    The comforting tones settled him somewhat. He nodded and
continued on his way past the group of approaching clerics. “Traitor,” he
expected them to yell. “Betrayer! Coward!” He was all of those things—and more.
How could the Beloved of the Arch-Paladin not see his shame? It was clearly
written on his soul.
    But the priests walked right by, intent on their own private
conversation. No one had even spared a glance his way. Kaerion wiped the cold
sweat from his brow and followed his friend down another street.
    Most of the buildings in this area were made of stone, with
an impressive amount of gilt marble facades. A few of the decorously crafted
houses even had small yards surrounded by iron gates or stone walls. The few
folk who were walking about the cobblestone streets were richly appointed,
wearing fine tailored velvets, thick cloaks, and an array of gold jewelry around
throat and hands.
    “Where are you taking us?” Kaerion asked his friend in a
tight voice.
    “To our destiny,” Gerwyth replied in a voice so heavy with
melodrama that the fighter wondered how his friend could still stand.
    He shot the elf a barbed look and crossed his meaty arms in
front of him. “No more joking,” Kaerion said tersely. “I’m tired and hungry, and
I don’t have any patience for your damned elven wit!”
    Gerwyth sighed, the ever-present smile falling from his
angular face. “Fine. If you must know, we’re going right there.” The elf pointed
a slim finger at a two-storey wooden building just past the bend in the street.
    Kaerion eyed their destination carefully. Despite not being
made of stone, the elegantly carved lines of the structure blended perfectly
with the surrounding