PAINTINGS
The paintings on the wall are fitting decor for an adventurer’s inn. Each one depicts a journey from Auberon’s younger days, the quests that made him into the man he was. Nearby, a memorial shrine for fallen adventurers has been erected, complete with a donation box for those feeling charitable.
Keenly studying the paintings is the human knight, who glances at you out of the corner of his eye.
Taking in the depictions of Auberon’s old adventures, you feel greatly inspired. While you prefer a more tactical approach to battles, you can’t help but respect Auberon for facing such perils head on, seemingly without fear. From left to right, the paintings are ordered by when they took place, like a timeline of Auberon’s quests.
You do a double-take at the painting of the shadowy, torchlit cavern. You recognize it as a well-known dungeon in your circles, The Lost Cavern of the Seven! The riches supposedly held within the bowels of those deadly tunnels were infamous. Perhaps one day you’ll be remembered for achieving such feats as Auberon and his companions.
The shrine maintained here presents a somber atmosphere quite different from the tense air of the tavern. This space is suffused with a sort of gentle sadness, the kind shot through with warmth and love. There’s a simple wooden altar, flowers in various stages of fadedness, and several softly glowing candles. At the center of the altar is a small donation box with the words, “For the Fallen” etched on the front. It’s locked with a peculiar looking mechanism, and shaking it reveals the clinks and clanks of several coins within. You set it back down without further thought. Not even you would consider forcing the charity box open. Around the box are a scattering of trinkets and mementos, remembrances of fallen loved ones. Especially at a time like this, it’s a reassuring reminder that there are always those who will remember you after you’re gone.
The man before you is wearing armor so pristine and polished, you find it a little hard to face him for a moment. How does he keep all that so clean of fingerprints? When he turns to you with a smile, you find his sparkling white teeth nearly as blinding. How does anyone maintain a conversation with him constantly flashing a grin like that? He seems used to it though, and allows you a moment to take in his chiseled jaw and bright, dancing eyes.
“Impressive, aren’t they? The paintings, I mean. The Libraries of Athaica are full of paintings such as this of my own impressive battles. You look as though you’re well-traveled, have you been?”
He speaks in a booming voice, projecting confidence and authority, but there’s a hint of playfulness to his words.
“When you visit, just tell them Federic the Valiant sent you, I’m sure they’ll be happy to – ah, yes, alas, it’s truly dreadful what has happened to our dear friend Auberon. I was merely attempting to take my mind off such unpleasant matters. What sort of thieving scoundrel would do this, and for what reason? There’s nothing worse in this world than a thief, wouldn’t you agree? Ah, that is, an ineloquent thief. A common burglar. Adventuring thieves such as yourself are a different lot, of course.
It really is too bad. I’ll remember Auberon fondly, of course. After all, he was there with me on one of my most daring adventures, the Siege of the Troal Blesh Swamp! I wrote a very famous book about it, the top selling tale in all of Estrea, to be exact. Have you read it? Yes, Auberon was a great sidekick, assisting me with all such little matters and proving to be a valuable asset on such a grand quest. It’s really too bad he won’t be able to tell you all about it now, all because some dastardly villain did him in!
Now, I’m not one to point fingers, but if I were I might be pointing them at that wily little half-man over there by the artifacts. He’s a known thief, after all. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll be keeping a rather watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn’t try and steal the very trousers off my dearly departed friend.
As for me, you have no reason to worry. I want to catch this fiend as much as you do, and I won’t rest until justice has been served! Auberon and I were friends, battle buddies, comrades-in-arms. Sure, he may have had a slightly different memory of some of our adventures, likely due to getting whacked on the head so many times, but we were a team, a team that couldn’t be shaken – no matter how famous one of us became.”
You do a double-take at the painting of the shadowy, torchlit cavern. You recognize it as a well-known dungeon in your circles, The Lost Cavern of the Seven! The riches supposedly held within the bowels of those deadly tunnels were infamous. Perhaps one day you’ll be remembered for achieving such feats as Auberon and his companions.
The shrine maintained here presents a somber atmosphere quite different from the tense air of the tavern. This space is suffused with a sort of gentle sadness, the kind shot through with warmth and love. There’s a simple wooden altar, flowers in various stages of fadedness, and several softly glowing candles. At the center of the altar is a small donation box with the words, “For the Fallen” etched on the front. It’s locked with a peculiar looking mechanism, and shaking it reveals the clinks and clanks of several coins within. You set it back down without further thought. Not even you would consider forcing the charity box open. Around the box are a scattering of trinkets and mementos, remembrances of fallen loved ones. Especially at a time like this, it’s a reassuring reminder that there are always those who will remember you after you’re gone.
The man before you is wearing armor so pristine and polished, you find it a little hard to face him for a moment. How does he keep all that so clean of fingerprints? When he turns to you with a smile, you find his sparkling white teeth nearly as blinding. How does anyone maintain a conversation with him constantly flashing a grin like that? He seems used to it though, and allows you a moment to take in his chiseled jaw and bright, dancing eyes.
“Impressive, aren’t they? The paintings, I mean. The Libraries of Athaica are full of paintings such as this of my own impressive battles. You look as though you’re well-traveled, have you been?”
He speaks in a booming voice, projecting confidence and authority, but there’s a hint of playfulness to his words.
“When you visit, just tell them Federic the Valiant sent you, I’m sure they’ll be happy to – ah, yes, alas, it’s truly dreadful what has happened to our dear friend Auberon. I was merely attempting to take my mind off such unpleasant matters. What sort of thieving scoundrel would do this, and for what reason? There’s nothing worse in this world than a thief, wouldn’t you agree? Ah, that is, an ineloquent thief. A common burglar. Adventuring thieves such as yourself are a different lot, of course.
It really is too bad. I’ll remember Auberon fondly, of course. After all, he was there with me on one of my most daring adventures, the Siege of the Troal Blesh Swamp! I wrote a very famous book about it, the top selling tale in all of Estrea, to be exact. Have you read it? Yes, Auberon was a great sidekick, assisting me with all such little matters and proving to be a valuable asset on such a grand quest. It’s really too bad he won’t be able to tell you all about it now, all because some dastardly villain did him in!
Now, I’m not one to point fingers, but if I were I might be pointing them at that wily little half-man over there by the artifacts. He’s a known thief, after all. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll be keeping a rather watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn’t try and steal the very trousers off my dearly departed friend.
As for me, you have no reason to worry. I want to catch this fiend as much as you do, and I won’t rest until justice has been served! Auberon and I were friends, battle buddies, comrades-in-arms. Sure, he may have had a slightly different memory of some of our adventures, likely due to getting whacked on the head so many times, but we were a team, a team that couldn’t be shaken – no matter how famous one of us became.”