CORK BOARD
The cork board appears cluttered with various parchments and notices, each vying for attention. There are flyers advertising local events, as well as several handwritten notes, some with an air of urgency, scribbled in haste and pinned with a sense of desperation. Behind the cork board you notice what appears to be a closet. Nearby, the lute-toting elf is pacing the floor, occasionally strumming a tune.
A variety of notices and announcements are pinned on the cork board. There’s a flyer advertising a local bard’s performance at a nearby tavern, a notice seeking adventurers to escort a caravan through dangerous territory, and a list of upcoming events in the town.
One parchment grabs your attention, as it bears an intricate symbol that suggests a rare and powerful magical item is up for sale. Your curiosity is temporarily piqued, wondering what kind of magical artifact it might be. You also notice a few wanted posters, with one in particular catching your eye:
The closet door appears to be made of wood and is set into the wall. Only a few feet tall, it has a simple brass knob, but refuses to open. You try a simple unlocking spell, but it fails. As you turn away, you think you hear something move inside… hmm, must have been the wind.
You walk up to the elf, a tall and slender male with long blonde hair neatly pulled back behind his pointed ears. He has sharp, angular features and stands with perfect posture while staring at you over his nose.
“Do you need something?
♫ (strum) ♫
Why would I know anything about what happened? Auberon likely upset the wrong person this time and they poisoned his drink, but I have no idea who it was.
♫ (strum) ♫
Do you think I did it? That’s the problem with your kind. You learn a few parlor tricks and suddenly think you’re the smartest person in the room. It doesn’t take a magic spell to know that I’m innocent, though.
To be forthright with you, Auberon owed me a lot of money.
♫ (strum) ♫
I often played here in the past, drawing mass crowds of all sorts to hear my lovely little melodies.
♫ (strum) ♫
There’s nothing quite like an elven tune, our heightened senses allow us to pluck the perfect chords right as they’re needed.
♫ (strum) ♫
In the forest’s shady glade,
Where the leaves and branches sway,
I’ll sing a song of debts unpaid,
And the gold that’s yet to come my way.
For I’ve lent my skills and art,
To those who promised coin and more,
But now they lack a beating heart,
And I’m left standing at the door.
So I’ll keep on singing my tune,
Until my purse is filled with gold,
And the sun and moon above me swoon,
For the elf who’s paid what’s owed.
♫ (strum) ♫
I don’t suppose I’ll ever be paid now – which is why I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to kill the man. It’s not as if I needed the gold, of course, but rather more it’s a thing of pride. And here I thought Auberon had invited me to right his past wrong, to pay what was owed. Maybe he had intended to? That is, before being struck down by some oaf with little regard for life.
No, murder is not the way of my kind. Have you by chance asked the beastly brute by the bar? The half-orc? Not a very intelligent creature, one likely to be easily swayed by his emotions, especially considering that Auberon killed his brother on one of his previous adventures. Who knows what little thing it might have taken to send him over the edge.
♫ (strum) ♫
In the end, I care not. It was an undignified death for a dishonorable man. Point your fingers as you wish, but if you dare point them at me I’ll snap you like a lute chord.
♫ (strum) ♫
Now, go on, or do you need me to play you out?”
♫ (strum) ♫
♫ (strum) ♫
♫ (strum) ♫
One parchment grabs your attention, as it bears an intricate symbol that suggests a rare and powerful magical item is up for sale. Your curiosity is temporarily piqued, wondering what kind of magical artifact it might be. You also notice a few wanted posters, with one in particular catching your eye:
The closet door appears to be made of wood and is set into the wall. Only a few feet tall, it has a simple brass knob, but refuses to open. You try a simple unlocking spell, but it fails. As you turn away, you think you hear something move inside… hmm, must have been the wind.
You walk up to the elf, a tall and slender male with long blonde hair neatly pulled back behind his pointed ears. He has sharp, angular features and stands with perfect posture while staring at you over his nose.
“Do you need something?
♫ (strum) ♫
Why would I know anything about what happened? Auberon likely upset the wrong person this time and they poisoned his drink, but I have no idea who it was.
♫ (strum) ♫
Do you think I did it? That’s the problem with your kind. You learn a few parlor tricks and suddenly think you’re the smartest person in the room. It doesn’t take a magic spell to know that I’m innocent, though.
To be forthright with you, Auberon owed me a lot of money.
♫ (strum) ♫
I often played here in the past, drawing mass crowds of all sorts to hear my lovely little melodies.
♫ (strum) ♫
There’s nothing quite like an elven tune, our heightened senses allow us to pluck the perfect chords right as they’re needed.
♫ (strum) ♫
In the forest’s shady glade,
Where the leaves and branches sway,
I’ll sing a song of debts unpaid,
And the gold that’s yet to come my way.
For I’ve lent my skills and art,
To those who promised coin and more,
But now they lack a beating heart,
And I’m left standing at the door.
So I’ll keep on singing my tune,
Until my purse is filled with gold,
And the sun and moon above me swoon,
For the elf who’s paid what’s owed.
♫ (strum) ♫
I don’t suppose I’ll ever be paid now – which is why I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to kill the man. It’s not as if I needed the gold, of course, but rather more it’s a thing of pride. And here I thought Auberon had invited me to right his past wrong, to pay what was owed. Maybe he had intended to? That is, before being struck down by some oaf with little regard for life.
No, murder is not the way of my kind. Have you by chance asked the beastly brute by the bar? The half-orc? Not a very intelligent creature, one likely to be easily swayed by his emotions, especially considering that Auberon killed his brother on one of his previous adventures. Who knows what little thing it might have taken to send him over the edge.
♫ (strum) ♫
In the end, I care not. It was an undignified death for a dishonorable man. Point your fingers as you wish, but if you dare point them at me I’ll snap you like a lute chord.
♫ (strum) ♫
Now, go on, or do you need me to play you out?”
♫ (strum) ♫
♫ (strum) ♫
♫ (strum) ♫