Barrow's end is a somewhat desolate place between the market and Crickety. It has a dead feeling about it. Once you get inside Barrow's End, the light seems to dim, as if the alleys were cloaked in a constant twilight. Fog swirles, and cobblestones glimmer in the hazy lantern lights. Here are some things that citizens don't want to be reminded of: death is far away and our mausoleum a remedy. People who wander accidently in the district are quickly reminded that they have business elsewhere and retrace their steps.
Here, a broken sign of a doctor's practice, agitated shadows behind its stainy windows. And there, a potions and ointments shoppe of some sort. Or the undertaker's residence. HE likes the quietness of the empty streets as he wanders from his home to the scary mausoleum. On a broken bench an old woman sits, knitting herself.
Barrow's End looks more desolate the further you go, and after a few lefts and rights, there's an entrance, between some worn down houses. A large iron fence stands before it, but is open. A cold draft comes up from the stairs winding down behind the doorway. The hair on your neck slowly rises as you consider entering. Better not. One could easily wander astray in Barrow's End.