As you gaze upon the grand fireplace of the Dread Dragon Inn, your eyes are drawn to the impressive head of a peryton mounted above the hearth. The creature’s antlers stretch out on either side, casting shadows on the surrounding walls. You can see that its eyes are missing, adding an eerie quality to the already imposing presence of the beast’s head.
The fireplace itself is large and made of stone. The flames dance excitedly within, casting a warm yet foreboding glow over the room and illuminating the horned figure of the Infernal standing next to it. The heat emanating from the fire is welcome, especially compared to the cold air of suspicion settling upon the rest of the room.
The Peryton’s head is mounted above the hearth, its antlers stretching out and up towards the ceiling. The head is missing its eyes, giving it a slightly eerie appearance, as if it’s watching you with empty sockets. Its snout is sealed shut by two rows of razor sharp teeth, and the feathers along its neck are still intact, giving the impression that it could take flight at any moment.
Only marginally less intimidating than the leering peryton head above you, the Infernal glances dismissively at you before turning her eyes back to the flames. They’re the same color as the fire, you notice, though nowhere near as warm. She’s wearing the luxurious robes of a sorcerer and a not-insignificant amount of jewelry, most of it seeming to sport symbols and designs that look an awful lot like those you’ve been told are used in magic casting. You may not have any magical gifts, but you know to be cautious around anyone with this apparent level of skill. You make a mental note to be very polite while speaking with her.
“Oh, have they sent the muscle around to intimidate information out of us? Ah, please do not look too put out. If it helps your ego, feel free to brandish your muscles and glower at me while you ask your questions.”
You have to repress a shiver as she looks you over. Whether it’s caused by her eyes like living embers, the intimidating arcing horns, or the thought that you might be approaching a murderer with an innate mastery of the arcane, you aren’t quite sure.
“My name? You may call me Charity. If you want to be official, you may call me ‘Master Evoker and High Sorcerer Fervent-Charity-Shall-Cover-A-Multitude-of-Sins’ — but that does not exactly roll off the tongue though, does it? I take it you are not here for pleasantries, and certainly not at a time like this.
Oh Auberon, the old fool. You would think a man who had seen and done the things he had would be smarter than to have so many enemies as friends – or friends as enemies, as the case may be. Yes, everyone in this room has held a grudge against the man at some point or another, including myself.
I am sure any of the old guard of ours would be willing to gossip about it, so you may as well hear it from me. Back when Auberon was half as canny but just as dashing, he had the gall to break off a… shall we say dalliance, that the two of us had, without warning. However, that was decades ago, and I have never lacked for company since. If I had felt so bereft as to want revenge, I would have dropped a storm of hellfire on him the day it happened. Poison, or a quiet curse, or whatever it was that took Auberon? Something underhanded like that would take an effusion of guile, cowardice, or both.
Who here might possess such a distasteful combination? The boy magician, surely. Poor kid never could quite wrangle the magical arts under his mastery, and because of it, Auberon refused to write him a recommendation to some ‘adventurer’s guild’ the boy idolized. Auberon knew some of the members, and could have helped, but opted not to. Auberon is gone now, and if I were you, I’d be looking closely at the wizard.
Do I not seem sad enough? How dare you?! How I mourn the loss of someone I… I cared for is none of your business. Auberon would know how I feel and how I grieve, and that is all that matters. Now, if you will excuse me.”
