The cross roads town of Hlintar sits at the intersection of the Hlintar Ride, going to Calaunt and Dragon Falls, and the Cross Road, leading to Ravens Bluff and Kurth, and trades with all of these towns and cities. It is ruled by a master merchant, the head of a council of merchants, and its government reflects its leader - light rule save for matters that threaten the local economy. Hlintar is known for its pig farms and horses.

Hlintar is also known for the hatred that it inspires in dwarven hearts. Well over a hundred winters ago, a corrupt and evil master merchant coveted the dwarf-held lands east of the town. The leaders of these small communities were invited to meet with the master merchant, then killed in their sleep. Some escaped and later gained revenge by catching the master merchant in his own bedroom and breaking every bone and joint in his body. Since that day, no dwarf formerly native to Hlintar will enter the city.

Hlintar has a number of good inns, the most popular being Beindold's Busted Bones (Master Merchant Beindold was the corrupt one of legend). It is a regular meeting spot for individuals who do not want to be seen in Calaunt or Ravens Bluff.

Hlintar has a small temple to Chauntea, presided over by Gosmani Hagaris (N hm D7), and one to Lliira, controlled by Joybringer Halira Chessman (N hef P6). There are also shrines to Waukeen (abandoned), Selûne Talos, and several dwarven deities nearby.

This small crossroads town, ruled by a Master Merchant who heads up a council of eight local merchants, is known for its finely trained horses (bred locally). It is also home to several large and muddy pig-farms famous for their top-notch bacon.

Almost a hundred winters ago, a greedy and ambitious Master Merchant of Hlintar, one Marakus Beindold, sought to enrich his coffers and expand Hlintar's farms into the hills east of the town-land traditionally claimed by the dwarves. Inviting the dwarves to Hornmoot, Marakus sent hired mercenaries to forcibly occupy the village before the guests arrived. He welcomed the dwarves and feasted them, plying them with drugged wine, then had them butchered in their bedchambers during the night. Only a few escaped - enough to elude the Master's guards and break all his joints with their hammers in his bedchamber ten nights after the battle. He was found horribly crushed, helpless in his blood, in the morning and was rescued only through the heroic (and expensive) efforts of several local clerics.

That was the last Hlintar has seen of dwarves from that day to this. No dwarf of the Vast will knowingly or willingly set foot in Hlintar, nor trade dwarven-work with a merchant known to trade there. Yet this crossroads town is always jingling with the money in the pockets, purses, and saddlebags of the busy merchants passing through it. Despite being shunned by the Stout Folk, Hlintar is a place of much intrigue and wealth. A traveler can hear tales in every bar of double-crossing merchants who didn't live to reclaim their hidden savings. Folk in Hlintar were so rich, the tales go, that they ran out of places to hide their loot, and too many thieves were growing fat just pulling at loose stones in the street and in every chimney. So Hlintar's enterprising local merchants undertook a banking service of sorts.

Now that the local shrine to Waukeen has been abandoned, Hlintar's temple to Chauntea has reluctantly taken over the "silent vault" service. Valuables and sensitive goods of all sorts (from stolen statues of recognizable monarchs to the bodies of prematurely and conveniently deceased relatives) are stored out of sight in monster- and spell-guarded vaults under the temple, for a fee of 1 gold per chest per month. Few thieves try to pry into these holdings: the guards include many "battle horror" shadowguards (the most powerful form of the animated suits of armor commonly known as helmed horrors) and at least one watchghost.

Rumor has it that Hlintar is still stuffed with caches of coins and gems: thieves tell each other to test every panel and pillar. Many floors in private homes, under the worn carpets, are paved with brick - gold brick, slathered with clay to look like normal building materials. One old Hlintar habit - fallen out of favor since ghouls became a problem - was to hide wealth in ancestral crypts. The less wealthy resorted to hollow cavities in the headstones of loved ones, but this led to smash-and-grab gangs hanging around the graveyard day and night, waiting to relieve the bereaved of any wealth they might happen to be carrying. There were pitched battles between rival gangs, and between thieves and bodyguards hired by bereaved Hlintarans, till the habit of hiding gold in graves lost popularity. It is quite possible that some caches of treasure remain in Hlintar's knolltop graveyard-thanks to the thieves and some ghouls that have arisen from graves since, some bereaved folk may not have lived long enough to recover their hidden savings.

This small crossroads town is ruled by a Master Merchant, head of a council of eight merchants, and is known for its finely trained horses, bred locally. It is also home to several large and muddy pig-farms.

Almost a hundred winters ago, a greedy and ambitious Master Merchant of Hlintar, one Marakus Beindold, sought to enrich his coffers and expand Hlintar's farms into the hills east of the town, traditionally claimed by the dwarves. He invited the dwarves by special letter to Hornmoot in Dragon Falls, which his hired mercenaries forcibly occupied before the dwarves arrived. The merchant welcomed the dwarves and feasted with them, plying them with drugged wine - then had them butchered in their bedchambers during the night.

Only a few dwarves escaped, but enough eluded the Master's guards to return 10 nights later to catch the merchant in his bed chamber and break all his joints with their hammers. He was found dying the following morning and was rescued only through the heroic (and expensive) efforts of several local clerics.

That was the last Hlintar has seen of dwarves from that day to this. No dwarf of The Vast will knowingly and willingly set foot in Hlintar, nor trade dwarven work with a merchant known to trade there.