You all have come to the small town of Ravengro following an invitation to attend the burial of Professor Lorrimor. Over the last few hours everyone of you arrived sound and safe and were greeted by the Professor's daughter, Kenda Lorrimor, a young woman whom her fathers death has hit quite hard. She wasn't very talkative since you arrived, fulfilling her duties as hostess with somber reticence.
While you could get rid of your backpack and may even got the time to refresh yourself a bit you couldn't change into more suitable clothing before it was time for the burial and thus just put a dark mourning robe over your equipment.
It's late afternoon when Kendra leads you to the gates of the restlands.
Here a small crowd of five has gathered around her fathers closed coffin.
You see a slightly chubby man with a boy who seems to be not quite in his pre-teens anymore and who, although quite athletic already looks as if he may become as chubby as his father once he gets to his age.
Next to them stand two slightly older men of roughly the same age and judging by their clothing the same high social rank, but still different in many ways.
While one has the typical look of an retired soldier who with age exchanged his training at arms for one at the dinner table and thus is almost the weight of the chubby man but still keeps an aura of authority, the other is quite lean and seems more like a rascal who was put into fine clothes long ago and then never bothered to change back, having grown comfortable with the finer raiment.
The last member of the group, a woman of around 40 who seems to lack eyebrows and has slightly charred hair, but otherwise looks quite unremarkable, steps towards Kendra once you arrive and tells her that Father Grimburrow, the local Priest, already went ahead to make last preparations on the grave and awaits everyone there.
Kendra then turns to you. Although she looks very composed you can see that it takes her quite a bit of willpower to stay that way.
"So here we are and all is ready to go. As I already told you we'll now form a procession and carry my father's coffin to the prepared grave, where the priest will perform the traditional burial rites and everyone will be able to speak some words for him. If there are any questions left, just ask. Otherwise I would ask the volunteered pallbearers to take the coffin and lead on, just follow the main path until we reach Father Grimburrow." Having spoken without a break, she now takes a deep breath and then adds in a somewhat lower voice "Please be careful, the coffin is quite heavy." before her voice dies away.
Cerana decides to walk over to the other 5 people to stand beside them in the procession as she knows full well that she has not the strength to lift the coffin. She looks on at Kendra and thinks to herself.
I know that look, she is taking it harder than anyone right now.. reminds me of myself. It really is a pity a formidable mind such as Lorrimor's was taken from us.
While standing with the small crowd she looks on to the coffin to see if she recognises any markings or anything special with it as her mind wanders while waiting for the pallbearers.
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Cantrips readied (3): Daze, Dancing Lights, Read magic.
Level 1 spells (3+1): Mage Armour, Grease, Sleep, Charm person (Wood)
|Torald Othric of Griffonstone|
Torald nods to Kendra in response to her request and takes his place at the coffin.
Lyla holds Lord Bramwell's hand, and seems surprised when he tries to let go to join the other pallbearers. Giving him an angry look, she whispers: "No, Lord Bramwell! Walk with me, please!"
Bramwell kneels and looks into the girl's eyes.
"We've talked about this, little one. It's the honorable thing to do, paying homage to the man who helped you. Do not worry, I'll be right in front of you."
Standing up, Lord Bramwell walks to the coffin and secures a spot in the back. Lyla follows him stepping heavily, clearly displeased.
|Dr. Benedict Darcy|
Bennedict stays in the back of the group and keeps his head bowed. As the pallbearers take their position he moves up to Kendra. His eyes brim slightly with tears as he suggests, "Pardon me Lady Kendra, I hope it would not be too presumptuous to volunteer to escort you to the grave site? An arm to lean on might provide some small comfort at this time."
Please roll an untrained Knowledge:Religion check if you recognise the mask
When Dr. Darcy approaches Kendra she seems to be startled for a moment but then replies: "Oh, er, thank you very much. Out here classic gentlemen are kinda scarce you know and I'm usually not the type to lean on others," she makes a short break as if thinking and then sighs slightly, "but this might be just the thing I need."
Cerana looks over to many of the people who are helping one another.
Such rare display of virtue in this place, I wonder why these people give their comfort so readily. It might bite them in the future...
She will take a mental note of the skull even if she doesn't recognise it.
With a somber look of determination, Ash takes his place at the side of the coffin. The face of the professor has faded in Ash's memory, but he will never forget the relationship he had built with the professor. Now there's no one left in this world who needs me
Ash puts his hands on the coffin.
Lord Bramwell looks at Kendra and smiles gently, wishing to provide some comfort to the professor's daughter. He then takes a look around and, seeing Jolienne, Torald, Ash, Tahlaera and Raoul in their places, invites them to lift the professor casket and start the procession. "Shall we?"
Angry at her protector, Lyla wanders away from Lord Bramwell and approaches Kendra and Dr. Benedict. As she steps closer, her sullen face fades into a compassionate look not truly befitting her feelings. She tries her best do as Lord Bramwell had told her and offer "sincere" condolences to Kendra. Yet, although she tries, she cannot relate to the loss of a father, as she never knew any. She greets Benedict and Kendra and looks up to meet the woman's eyes.
"I'm really sorry for your loss, miss."
She then waits for the procession to start.
|Torald Othric of Griffonstone|
I think we should. Let's do the professor the last honor.
Torald counts muted to three to syncronize the lift and raises the coffin.
Once the pallbearers have lifted the coffin the procession slowly starts to move.
The Restlands you now enter are comparatively big for such a small town, being its only burial site since its foundation.
While normal graves of all sizes and ages make up the bulk of it you can also see quite a lot of crypts and mausoleums, although all of them look at least a century old.
After the procession rounds a corner at a somewhat derelict looking crypt you reach an crossroad with a smaller path that seem to lead to a second gate. There a group of maybe 20 sour looking local men, seemingly mostly farmhands, fishermen and the likes stands and seem to wait for something.
Once noticed, they start to point and and make clearly threatening gestures towards the funeral procession and after only a few seconds an elderly, but still fit man steps forward and shouts towards you:
"That's far enough. We been talking, and we don't want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there, but he ain't goin' into the ground here! Not where our own dead lie still at peace!"
Kendra lets go of Dr. Darcys arm, steps forward and shouts back, visibly angered but the interruption: "What are you talking about? I arranged it with Father Grumburrow myself and there are even two Councilmen here to pay my father their last resp..."
The old man interrupts her quite forcefully, now almost screaming:
"Your don't get it, woman. We won't have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin! You and your cursed guests, get out of here while you still can. We hardworking and honest citizen want you and all your dammed witchcraft out of our town!"
The fools don't know how wrong they are, Tahlaera thinks as she comes to a halt with the rest of the procession. She spares the rest of the funeral procession a glance, as if waiting for one of them to speak, and then studies the unruly mob in front of them, her facial expression impassive.
Cerana looks at the crowd and back towards the procession.
I guess I spoke too soon, this is no different to Caliphas...
Cerana steps forward, putting herself despite her meek build in between the procession and the crowd. Putting up the front she normally does in front of her peers and asks in a collected manner.
"You are all believers of Pharasma aren't you? By calling this man a Necromancer you are gravely insulting everyone here. What prove do you have of this monstrous claim?"
Kalina has been following the procession mutely, numb with the loss of her one true friend. But as insults are hurled at the memory of her beloved mentor, a spark of rage rises in her.
They dare? They insult the memory of the kindest, wisest man I've ever known? If they refuse him the honorable burial he deserves... if they as much as touch Kendra, I'll... I'll
A dry ache begins in the back of Kalina's throat, and her fists clench at the sudden and unfamiliar urge to do harm.
|Dr. Benedict Darcy|
Benedict steps forward next to Kendra, his right arm hanging down loosely. An angry look in his eyes is not reflected in his voice as he calls out to the angry crowd, ""Everyone should calm themselves. I don't believe you good folk want to risk the ire of the Lady of Graves by interfering with one her most solemn rites. The professor was one of your own. If you doubt him, then you would have to doubt each man next to you. So stand aside and we will continue, and you will not further embarrass yourselves by your rash and unreasonable actions."
DIPLOMACY CHECK: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 Grrr...nice roll.
Jolienne shifts uneasily at the suggestion to set down the coffin. She whispers to the other pallbearers, "Please, for the Professor's memory, let us hope it does not come to that."
She turns to the mob and speaks out, "You are being fools. Would a devotee of Sarenrae pay homage to a necromacer?" Nodding towards the pendant of the sun goddess she wears, Jolienne continues. "Let the man rest in peace!"
Not much hope for a fighter pulling this off, but it's worth a try.
Aid another: Diplomacy 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8 Didn't think so...
Seeing her words fail to move the mob, Jolienne again turns back to the other pallbearers and says, "If we must, then let us ease his coffin down together. It would be disgraceful if we were to drop it."
Kalina struggles between her shyness and the welling rage. The calm reason of the others gives her the courage to try.
And I... I too would have been lost without the Professors kindness. He befriended me, and took me to the temple of Pharasma to be raised. Why would he do that? Why would he take me to She who abjurs the undead the most fiercely, if he were a necromancer?
Kalina pauses as a thought comes.
Are there undead troubling you? Is that why you speak of necromancy? Perhaps I could help? Maybe some of the others here would be willing too. We are not as wise as the Professor, but maybe... But first let us honor this good man as he deserves.
Ok, giving it a go...
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
|Torald Othric of Griffonstone|
Dear fellow men, I don't think that the lady of the graves like's what she sees here. We all know that she wants the dead to rest in quiet peace. So let us lessen our voices.
You see, that I am an champion of Sarenrae. I once have fought on the side of the professor angainst this evil, you are afraid of. If the professor was once a necromancer I wouldnt be here and he would have found a much earlier rest.
Please let us pay our honor to this well-deserved man. If you are having trouble with undead we can talk about it afterwards. I will help you, as true as I stand here in the name of my mistress.
After hearing your words some of the men seem to calm down, others get visibly pale once they spot that some of you still seem to have weapons under your black robes.
The old man on the other hand does not really seem to calm down and goes on shouting at you: "What? Undead? Do you plan to bring undead into our town? I knew it, all of you are here just to disrupt our peaceful life and maybe even murder us while we sleep!"
Now one of the other men stepped forward and talked to him.
You then hear the leader again, still speaking quite loud: "What? Don't you... don't you see that's what they want? They want to disunite us!"
The other one now just returns, also slightly louder "Pah, shut up Gibs, we're out of here."
He and most of the other men then leave, only to be followed by Gibs, now shouting insults at them instead of the procession.
Kendra seems to have calmed down again and returns do Dr. Darcy's Side " Well, that was unfortunate. I never thought that the distrust against us runs this deep in some of the townsfolk. Let's continue to the graveside before anyone else gets the notion that my father should not rest in peace"
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
I will never understand some of the populace of these places, so quick to act without proof or knowledge of events. Speaking of which...
Cerana turns back around and walks towards Kalina and speaks softly but not to the point of whispering.
"Young one, If I might be so bold, could we possibly be able to talk a bit about the Professor after the rites have passed, as the time would be more appropriate? I am curious about him and I must be honest, I know little about him aside from his expertise in certain subjects. It sounds like he held you in high regard"
|Torald Othric of Griffonstone|
|Dr. Benedict Darcy|
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Kalina starts a little at Cerana's friendly approach. She is unused to such things. She replies in a quiet voice.
Oh? Oh, yes. I would be happy to tell you what I know of the Professor. I don't know much really. But he saved me when I was a child; he took me to the temple of Pharasma. And he was always interested in my... in my studies. He was a good man. That much I know for sure. And he was my friend.
Looking at Cerana's robes, curiosity gets the best of her. Are you... a mage?
Lyla's Perception roll 1 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Lyla's Perception roll 2 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Lord Bramwell's Perception roll 1 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Lord Bramwell's Perception roll 2 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Lord Bramwell and Lyla share what they hear through their mental link
Lyla pulls gently on Kendra's robe in order to grab her attention. She asks "Do you know who that man is, miss? Why is he so angry?" and then, as if remembering something she adds with an even more inquisitve tone, looking into the distance and squinting her eyes, "... and what is a 'liquid ghost'?"
Lord Bramwell looks at his fellow pallbearers, relieved.
"Well, I'm glad this got sorted out. Let's see that the professor gets to his final resting place without further incidents!"
"Well, that ..." Just as Kendra starts to answer the chubby man interrupts her and boasts "Liquid Ghost is my famous magic ale, that's what it is! Just as the most malevolent of spirits it glows with an unearthly greenish tint. If you want to try it, I hereby invite all of you to visit my tavern, the Laughing Demon. The first round will be on house, in memory of our dear friend."
The professors daughter seems to be more amused than angry about that. "Don't you know how rude it is to interupt someone? Ah well, doesn't matter." She then focuses on Lyla again "That was Gibs, he is a known troublemaker around here, a retired soldier who drinks to much and often needs an outlet for his frustration. He doesn't concerns me, it's the number of people he got to stand with him against us that surprises me."
Cerana shows a glint of a smile and forces a bit of chuckle and thinks to herself.
Well that's better than crazy elven bookworm I suppose.
She decides to fall beside Kalina as they walk behind the procession again, Cerana replies with her continued soft tone.
"I guess you could call me that, though few do these days. Just think of me as a scholar similar to Lorrimor. We did study very different topics he and I. What did you study then if I might inquire?"
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Jolienne stares warily as the mob disperses, relieved that the conflict passed without incident. She takes a moment to study Kalina, not sure what to make of her. Something about that women makes me uneasy, but her words seem sincere and honorable. I have spent to much time alone of late, and should not be so quick to distrust, she thinks to herself.
"Yes, let us get the Professor to his final resting place before anything else disturbs us."
I assume we are all ready to continue the procession then?
The owner of the Laughing Demon seems to think about it for a moment and then replies "Hmm, well it's not that strong, so yeah but only one small mug and only if your parents or whoever is responsible for you doesn't disagrees. Not that they come and want to beat me blue for giving it to you, no that would be unpleasant. Otherwise you could try my cadaver blood, it's quite good too."
|Torald Othric of Griffonstone|
I think we should. The Professor's soul has waited long enough for his eternal rest.
Looking to Lyla
I think, that that liquid is nothing pleasant for such a young throat like yours. I think that Zokar will have some specialty which will taste much better.
1st Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
2nd Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
"The drunkard and his ranting...fool" Ash sneers.
"Yes, let's keeps on."
After only a short while the procession finally reaches the graveside without any further incidents.
They are welcomed by an quite old and shriveled man in priestly robes who introduces himself as Father Grimburrow and is accompanied by two gravediggers.
He directs the pallbearers to lower the coffin into the already dug grave.
Once that's done and everyone is assembled around it he holds a short sermon and then turns to Kendra and asks her to speak some words.
Now Kendra has to visibly fight back tears, but in the end manages to compose herself enough to speak with unbroken voice:
"You all knew my father, some better, some only in passing. Some either saved his life or were saved by him , others are just trusted colleagues or friends. But all of you have one thing in common and that's his deep respect.
I'm sure he would like you to not only remember him as "Professor Lorrimor" but also as the man, Petros, good friend, trusted ally or " She makes a short pause as once gain fights back her tears "loving husband and father.
I remember the day my mother died as if it was yesterday. I was still quite young, only 12 years old and he was still an full-time Professor at Lepistadt University, aspiring to become dean of his faculty. Mothers dead came quite quite abrupt, almost as surprising as his. She only had a slight flue, only to then one morning be smitten with a burning fever. She died before the called cleric even arrived. Father took it quite hard, but still he didn't despair and once it became apparent that he couldn't keep up his work and at the same time replace my mother for me he even surrendered his great goal to finally become dean and instead went into a kind of early retirement and moved us here. As you all know full well that didn't stop him from doing good where ever he could. Once I was old enough to be on my own for some time and started travelling again, even taking me with him on occasion, but he never got the chance to fulfill his dream and become dean. I'll miss you daddy." With that she steps back, finally letting her tears run free.
Now Father Grimburrow speaks up again "If there is anyone else who wants to say some words, now would be the appropriate time."
Everyone who says some words, recites a poem for the dead, holds an own short sermon or the like please make a Diplomany/Perform check as appropriate
Standing next to Lyla, Bramwell speaks into her mind. Care to share something? It’s ok, everyone here was friends with the professor. When the girl refuses, Bramwell tries to negotiate. It will be good for you... and later you can have a sip of that fluid phantom beverage, ok?
Lyla hesitates a little, but gives in to Bramwell’s request. She takes a deep breath and starts speaking, reluctantly at first, but as she remembers the impact the professor has had on her life, she opens up sincerely, for a change.
“Hm, I... I only met professor Lorrimor once... and I’m not even sure how he knew where to find us now. He... he saved me from a dark place. Well, he made sure that Lord Bramwell did, anyway.” She points to the eidolon and goes on. “I had nothing, and, the day we met, he helped me find something inside of me. Some magic. Real magic. And because of him I am here today.”
Diplomacy 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Bramwell and Lyla exchange looks, and the eidolon whispers “That was very good.”
Ash speaks up, "Hi, my name is Ash. Professor Lorrimor was one of the few people who made me feel truely needed in life. I know for one, that I will miss him dearly." With watery eyes, he finishes his small speech and bows his head in silence.
1d20 - 2 ⇒ (17) - 2 = 15