Family Role:
Old Uncle Eston, far older than he looks, is quick to rebuke his younger relatives for their rashness or idiocy, and incredibly fast with a fist or blade when threatened by bandits and the like, though he prefers not to show it. After nearly a century spent adventuring as a member of the Pathfinder Society, reflecting in monasteries, and a particularly memorable decade fighting river pirates in the deep Mwangi, he has retired home to look after his estranged family. He currently keeps the family's inventory, records, and books of acquired monster and political lore in order. The youngest-looking of the family's oldest generation, some of his great-grandnephews have wondered out loud if Uncle Eston will be the same age until the end of time.
Story:
Eston Marid was born to... questionable parentage, in the age when Aroden still reigned. Though no one from his parents’ generation still lives, as he tells the story he spent his early years as a blot on the family’s name, slow to learn and mature and generally kept hidden when his father and uncles met with anyone important. Dissatisfied with the teasing he received from his siblings and cousins, Eston left home at a young age, and set off to see the world.
Over the next half a century or so, he found his way counter-clockwise around the Inner Sea. After a few years in a monastery on the Isle of Jalmeray, the young blade found himself unsatisfied with local politics, and journeyed on, finishing his training at the Pathfinder Lodge in Absalom. He made his first bit of fame and coin working for the Society, editing chronicles and running messages. From Qadira to Brevoy, he escorted travelers and fought bandits, bringing what he had learned of Abadar’s Justice to the lawless forests Taldor forgot. A year spent at the Worldwound was all it took to learn that he was no crusader—and so he headed West, studying fencing and lore at the great universities of Ustalav. In Varisia, he scouted Thassalionian ruins for the Society, work that brought him back to Garund through the tombs of Ancient Osirion. In the Mwangi forests, he fought river pirates and sang savage songs with the wild elves, before deciding his adventuring days were done and retiring from the Society. And, after a few more years in another monastery, he decided it was time to return to Nex.
When Eston visited his family estates once again, he was no longer young—and, as he aged slowly, his parents, uncles, and cousins had gone faster. All that remained among his remaining siblings and cousins was a dim memory of a slow child, one that was quickly replaced by the dashing, fabled swordsman who had returned home after dozens of years of heroics. Uncle Eston had traveled farther and longer than anyone else still alive in the Marid Clan, and over the next few decades, he became a keeper of family stories and secrets—especially those that painted him in a positive light. Now, after quite some time, even he has begun to show the extent of age, but he still remains in remarkably good shape for the generational wisdom he’s brought to the family. Mostly content to remain at home, collecting and copying books and ledgers, Eston hasn’t had a proper fight in decades, and his fighting skills have grown a bit rusty (though that might very well change soon, it means he’s now no better with a sword than his more promising grand-nephews).
