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The Journals of Raymond Brooks 63
CHAPTER V
Path of the Tavern-Warrior
Feeling a deep sense of rage and loss, I sought refuge in the
worst possible place. I went to The Black Sheep Tavern at the
docks of Drentwych, where many dangerous ruffians spent
their free time and hard-earned wages on cheap whores, cheap
liquor, and gambling. It was a place seldom visited by men and
women of reputation. In fact, only a hardened criminal or a
man with a death wish would ever want to visit the place —
and I wasn’t a criminal.
The Tavern was poorly lit, with a few torches attached to the
walls and a fire under the kettles. A pig was roasting there,
filling the poorly-aired room with smoke. Yet the warmth
of the Tavern proved an allure I could not deny, for it was an
especially chilly night outside. A gap-toothed barmaid greeted
me with a smile. Though I found her unattractive, I allowed
myself a nervous half-smile in return. Behind her I met with
the suspicious expressions of the patrons, as more than one
