The front entrance of the Dread Dragon Inn and Tavern is latched and bolted shut. The door itself is quite large, made of sturdy dark oak with the expected scuff marks and dents, evidence of its long use. It’s best to keep this locked until you’re able to figure out who murdered Auberon. To the right, a large bookcase stands tall against the wall. To the left, a barred window looks out onto the street. A cloaked figure, perhaps a dark elf from the little you can glimpse under their hood, is leaning their back against the wall, seemingly watching the room.
A hefty wood bookcase towers over you. The shelves are neatly arranged and filled with a variety of books, some of which seem fairly old. A quick scan, however, reveals nothing of interest
You look out through the bars of the window and can see a dimly lit street with the rare passerby hurrying to their destination. The street lamps cast an orange glow on the cobbled pavement and unsettling shadows on the walls of the surrounding buildings. The moon is visible in the sky, casting a silvery light onto the scene below. It’s quiet except for the occasional sound of footsteps or distant chatter, and the stillness of the night makes you acutely aware of the tension in the air following Auberon’s murder.
You turn to the figure and startle to find them already watching you, despite the care you took to keep your approach silent and subtle. Their eyes shine from their hood, like pale blue lanterns lit from within. They maintain eye contact as you get closer, the little you can see of their face showing traces of amusement. Their voice is soft, but it does little to ease the mental alarm bells that are suddenly ringing in your head.
“Do not worry, you were being quite careful, shadow-walker. I imagine my training has been rather more extensive than yours. My line of work assures I’m quite attuned to my surroundings. It is unfortunate to meet under such circumstances, though were we to meet otherwise… let’s just say that perhaps this way is better.”
The figure speaks with a nonchalant manner, seemingly amused by the events that have transpired.
“I’m known as Zyn. I have known Auberon Greatstag for a while. We parted ways years back when I started down my… current career path. It was good to see him for the celebration of his birth, of course, but I did also come here on… business.
Hm. I wonder if everyone here is too afraid, or too polite, to mention it? I left Auberon’s adventuring group to join the assassin’s guild. That is why I came here tonight. I was not the first, either. It’s a well-known secret in the guild that Auberon Greatstag is an infamously impossible target to kill.
No, I vow, it was not me. I am both happy and sad to say someone else accomplished it first. It would have been an honor and a heartbreak to take Auberon’s Greatstag’s life. Perhaps the person who paid the contract did not trust the guild to follow through. After all, the last pair sent to slay Auberon Greatstag returned three days later, still hungover, and calling him their new dearest friend. Perhaps look to who it is that would have the most to gain from his death. In this line of work, an inheritance of gold or property is the most common motive. The dwarven maiden, for example, is set to take over this grand Inn and Auberon Greatstag’s collection, is she not?”
