The bar was closed for the night. Kicking out the stragglers, Barlow locked the door and drew the curtains, closing off the bar from the rest of the inn. Walking behind the counter he threw open the massive hatch and climbed down into the tunnel, closing and locking it behind him. Igniting his lantern, he ventured down the dimly lit corridor as it descended slowly, far beyond where the foundation of the bar ended. Eventually, the tunnel opened into a small octagonal room, before narrowing again and burrowing further into the depths. But this is where he stopped for the night. This was his room. Largely bare, though there were small trinkets that he had collected through the ages. From family, from friends, from many, all of whom were now lost to him. He sat down on his massive cot, feeling wearier than he had in a long time. From inside his shirt, he brought out a massive key hung on a chain around his neck. It looked almost ordinary in his paw of a hand. He turned it over admiring the craftsmanship for the millionth time, intrigued by the strange mask carved into the head of it. Far, far down the narrow passage, past his chamber, was the door it unlocked. In ages long past it had taken an army and fortress to protect this passage…now he was the only one left, him and the tavern he had built atop the entrance long ago. Funny how things change he thought, chuckling. Battles had been fought to keep all of this from falling into the wrong hands, now nobody even remembered its existence. Barlow felt like an aging Cerberus, outliving his purpose once Hades had fallen from the memories of man.
