As you gaze upon the floor of the Dread Dragon Inn, your eyes land on a massive rug in the center of the room. The rug is made from the fur of an owlbear, a fearsome creature known for its sharp claws, powerful beak, and keen senses.
You can sense a primal energy radiating from the rug, almost as if it were still alive. Still, you feel drawn to its beauty and power. The owlbear’s head remains attached to the rug, its beak closed, hiding what you imagine to be sharp and ferocious teeth.
You picture yourself locked in battle with the monstrous owlbear, the good citizens of some small village cheering you on from behind, knowing that you’re their last hope against such a powerful foe. The owlbear charges towards you, swinging its razor sharp claws. A well-timed teleportation spell moves you out of harm’s way as the fiend falls into your entanglement hex. Immobilized by your magic, you mutter a quick incantation as you cast a banishing spell, sending the owlbear to another plane of existence! The villagers rejoice, lifting you high into the air as they carry you through the streets, singing your praises!
You snap out of it, wondering how long you just spent spacing out, daydreaming about this owlbear. You notice Finnian, the halfling curator, is watching you with a bewildered stare.
“Are you well, friend? I, too, am troubled by what has transpired.”
You assure the halfling that you were simply deep in thought, and his concern fades. In spite of all that has happened, Finnian remains calm and collected, choosing every word with care and precision.
“They say that death is the price we all pay for the privilege of life, yet for my old friend Auberon, and even for the alchemist Tua’la, the costs seem too steep. This is indeed a darker night than previously thought, and I fear the torch of justice is dampened by a great evil that permeates the very air we breathe! These are evil times, my friend.
Now, one must wonder what will become of Auberon’s precious relics? Surely Auberon would want them under the care of a professional, such as myself. I can arrange to have them transported safely to one of my museums, to protect them from would-be thieves and other ne’er-do-wells.
Speaking of, do you have any leads as to the identity of the heinous criminal we have on our hands? Perhaps you’d listen to a few words of wisdom, as I believe I’ve narrowed it down to two suspects. Of all the vermin present here this night, none are able to lie so easily and readily as Federic the Valiant. His forked tongue would say a red rose was blue rather than speak the truth, and that wouldn’t be because the human suffers from a hereditary color deficiency in his vision. Of course, one must not overlook the young wizard, Ianstaer. Fame is the thirst of youth, and that cocky child is parched for glory to such a degree that I fear his morals may be corrupted, though considering his family hails from Stormwatch that’s not saying much. That far city is known for its aggressive ambition. As I said, these are evil times. I hope I can count on your spells when the time comes.”
