PAINTINGS
It seems that Auberon was dedicated to creating an atmosphere that would make adventurers feel at home. The paintings on the wall depict the far-ranging journeys which Auberon Greatstag undertook in his younger days. 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 can’t help but feel a sense of awe. The variety of lands he had explored, the creatures he must have encountered… Auberon Greatstag surely was one of the greats. From left to right, the paintings are ordered by when they took place, like a timeline of Auberon’s quests.
Trying to describe the feywild in any concrete terms is near impossible, but the artist that painted this piece has managed to capture the transient, ethereal nature of the ephemeral realm. It’s unsettling and entrancing all at once.
Blackmarsh… there’s a place you’d never want to traverse again. From the tone of this painting, it seems like Auberon didn’t either. You can still hear the ghastly cries that would echo across the weedy waters.
With its aura of gentle solemnity, this space seems to have escaped the tavern’s atmosphere of rising tensions. The simple wooden altar is strewn with small bundles of flowers, softly flickering candles, and other tokens of remembrance. At the center of the altar is a small donation box with the words, “For the Fallen” etched onto the front. It’s locked with a peculiar looking mechanism, and surreptitiously shaking it reveals the jingle of donated coinage. Small trinkets and icons are scattered around the box, a testament to the love and honor that the adventurers and patrons of the inn have for their fallen comrades. This shrine serves as a reminder of the dangers of adventuring and the need to honor those who have given everything for the sake of quests. You make a mental note to leave something for Auberon once all this is resolved.
The human standing at the paintings is eye-catching, to say the least. You’d be hard pressed to say what about him is the most distracting: his over-polished armor, the way his gold-brown hair seems almost painted in place, or the unnatural whiteness of his teeth as he flashes you a bright smile.
“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? If it was for theft, why have none of the artifacts been taken?
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.”
Trying to describe the feywild in any concrete terms is near impossible, but the artist that painted this piece has managed to capture the transient, ethereal nature of the ephemeral realm. It’s unsettling and entrancing all at once.
Blackmarsh… there’s a place you’d never want to traverse again. From the tone of this painting, it seems like Auberon didn’t either. You can still hear the ghastly cries that would echo across the weedy waters.
With its aura of gentle solemnity, this space seems to have escaped the tavern’s atmosphere of rising tensions. The simple wooden altar is strewn with small bundles of flowers, softly flickering candles, and other tokens of remembrance. At the center of the altar is a small donation box with the words, “For the Fallen” etched onto the front. It’s locked with a peculiar looking mechanism, and surreptitiously shaking it reveals the jingle of donated coinage. Small trinkets and icons are scattered around the box, a testament to the love and honor that the adventurers and patrons of the inn have for their fallen comrades. This shrine serves as a reminder of the dangers of adventuring and the need to honor those who have given everything for the sake of quests. You make a mental note to leave something for Auberon once all this is resolved.
The human standing at the paintings is eye-catching, to say the least. You’d be hard pressed to say what about him is the most distracting: his over-polished armor, the way his gold-brown hair seems almost painted in place, or the unnatural whiteness of his teeth as he flashes you a bright smile.
“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? If it was for theft, why have none of the artifacts been taken?
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.”