--A glimpse at the life of the wizard Auron--

Approaching the city limits, Auron breathed in the familiar air of Sharn for the first time in years. It was also a great deal better than the putrid air of the Shadow Marches where he had spent the last six months. He smiled; he was home once again and it felt good. The magnificent towers of Sharn spiralled up to its mighty peak before him as he continued on into the city. Auron made his way to the district of Dura where he found his old watering hole The Crooked Marquess. Nothing had changed since he was last here, and he thanked the Host that the Last War had left this place untouched. Only the staff seemed to have changed and striding up to the bar Auron ordered a tankard of ale, asking at the same time whether a man named Falstaff still owned the place. Receiving his answer Auron smiled and sat down in a quiet corner. The tavern was reasonably empty with only a few people scattered here and there. None of them had noticed him enter, or if they had they hadn't make any sign. He sipped his tankard of ale. It had some time since he had tasted the sweet ale of The Crooked Marquess. Quietly and to himself Auron sighed, closed his eyes and began to think about the last five years and how he had come to leave Sharn and his home behind.

Five years ago...

Auron stepped off the boat and into a whirlwind of dust and sand. Shielding his eyes he made his way in the direction the first mate had pointed him.
“[Where are you from stranger?]” asked a stern man in riedran. The man was wearing a large overcoat pulled up over his mouth and a wide brimmed hat pulled down to help shield his eyes and nose against the storm. Because of this Auron couldn't make out his face, but he was sure the man was human.
“[Khorvaire],” he answered. His riedran wasn't great, but he could remember enough of the language from his days growing up in Adar.
“[Khorvaire?]” the man repeated back to him. “[What business do you have in Adar, Khorvian?]
“[I look refuge from Final War. I grow up here.]” Auron replied in his broken riedran.
“[I see. Then you know about the troubles on Sarlona with the Kalashtar and the Inspired. No profit to be had there; we humans need to stick together and stay out of their trivialities.]”
“[I know of troubles, and have no want to be part of it. I just want to see the war away in peace.]” Auron replied.
“[That's good to hear. The last thing we need is another freedom fighter on this godforsaken land. Now friend, do you need a place to stay this night?]”
Auron nodded in all earnestness.
“[You'll find a tavern with rooms down that street over there. The beds are hard, but the prices are low. That should see you good for the night.]”
Thanking the man, Auron headed down the street in the direction he had been pointed. The sky was showing the first signs of dawn, but this did not deter the storm as it flicked the sand up wickedly, whipping anything that dared to venture outside. Reaching the tavern Auron smiled, opened the door and stepped inside.

Auron finished his drink in one and waved to the barkeep for another. As he did this a tabby cat jumped down from the hearth next to his table and started to rub its body against his left leg. Bending down to rub the cat's flank he heard the door of the tavern open and the sound of several men walking in, voices raised in good cheer. Ignoring them, Auron patted the cat, stood up and walked to the bar.
Reaching the bar, Auron hear a gruff voice from the group that had just entered say, “Your money isn't any good in here my friend.”
Turning towards the speaker, Auron's features spread into a wide grin across his face and he laughed a mighty laugh.