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Could I have everyone also check in at https://app.roll20.net/join/852206/sfix8A and let me know your Roll20 name, please?
Wait this is a Roll 20 game?
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You have gathered at the entrance to the Restlands with Kendra Lorrimor and a fine coffin containing the body of her father (preserved with gentle repose), your onetime friend and ally Petros Lorrimor.
Any of you who wish to do so (and are capable) may serve as pallbearers.
Father Grimburrow and a pair of gravediggers are already waiting at the site of the professor’s burial—as part of local tradition, they do not accompany the pallbearers from the gate to the grave. Besides yourselves, only a small handful of villagers are attending the funeral procession. Old friends of Lorrimar, they too have come to pay their respects. They are Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, Councilman Gharen Muricar, tavernkeeper Zokar Elkarid and his 13-year old son Pevrin, and Jominda Fallenbridge (Ravengro’s apothecary and one of the professor’s good friends). All of them are somber and have little to say at this time.
Kendra, as the deceased’s closest living relative, has the job of leading the somber procession along the Dreamwake—a gravel pathway that winds through the cemetery. Those of you serving as pallbearers are considered to have both hands full as you carry the heavy coffin up the road. As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, you see that the way ahead is blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals. The tallest of these toughs is an elderly but wiry man who speaks out as soon as they are noticed.
"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 if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!"
Lorant, near the front of the coffin serving as a pallbearer, speaks first.
"Peace, gentle folk, what seems to be the trouble? Surely there is no need to darken an already sad day with fighting?"
The trip to Ustalav wasn't a peaceful one for Cassiel. It was only a few days since he received the letter summoning him... he couldn't, for the life of him, imagine why he of all people was invited.
Normally, I'm not one to be invited to anything formal, let alone a funeral... but if it's the Professor's last wish, then I'm damn well going to honour it.
Evidently, he wasn't the only one summoned for the funeral. Aside from his travelling companion (who for some reason made his hair stand on end, despite his devotion), there was a gentleman with the air of a scholar about him... and a kobold, of all things. It was the kobold that really stood out to him--what in all the Hells did the Professor want with a kobold?
After exchanging pleasantries with the bereaved Kendra Lorrimor (and making a mental note to determine the kobold's intentions once the whole affair was over), Cassiel took his place as a pallbearer at the front of the coffin. The procession was quiet enough... until the locals took exception to their presence.
"What, exactly, is your problem with Professor Lorrimor? He never struck me as the sort of man who would deserve to be buried elsewhere but here."
Malthus groaned inwardly.
I understand these lot and would be cautious too if it were me but I know the Professor... knew... the Professor. He was no necromancer. I hope this does not come down to a mob situation. He allows his fellow pall bearers to engage the townsmen.
Being the size of... well, a kobold, poor Meenak could only look forlorn up at the Professor's coffin as he walked along. It seemed only yesterday he saw the old man, getting on in years, but still had a zeal for life and learning. Now, he lay in a box. Meenak had no clue what funerals were or even why he was invited, but he guessed the box must've been some kind of necromantic shield to prevent undead revival. Perhaps he was invited to observe the process? A final lesson for his scaly pupil.
Someone took Prof. Lorrimor from Meenak. He just knew it, and the kobold would find them, and make them pay!
Following along, Meenak made sure to watch carefully. Even in death, the Professor was teaching him... that gave him some comfort. But every so often, he looked up and gave a hiss of silence. Flying around his head, unseen to all, but Meenak, a pale, translucent skull shrouded in purple smog fluttered through the air: Meenak's spiritual familiar, Kibbi. Constantly prattling, even now, Kibbi bugged Meenak, asking questions and whispering irritating comments to him.
It was this chatter that distracted Meenak, who bumped into the leg of the human ahead of him - the tall (to a kobold, anyways) well-dressed fellow with the gray hair. Noticing the procession had stopped, he peered around the leg to see more humans facing them. Surly-looking bunch, indeed. And they had stopped the ritual!
'Them! It's them! Them them them them them!' Kibbi chittered to the kobold. "(The ones who took the Professor?)" Meenak hissed back, before looking at the men again. They... certainly did seem capable of it. Big. Tough. Grumpy. Meenk scowled at the men, about ready to raise a fuss when the others spoke up.
He'd wait. See what they did. Perhaps they'd move on...
Lorant's brow furrows a bit as Kendra shouts at the band. He knew the pain of her father's death was still fresh, but lashing out like this was sometimes all the pretext a mob needed to get violent. He'd seen it happen all too many times in towns just like Ravengro.
"Peace, Kendra!"
He turns his attention back to the group.
"How do you know the Professor was a necromancer? The four of us have known him for quite some time, and my traveling companion and I both know he corresponded with our order, the Knights of Ozem, frequently. A necromancer would surely be nigh suicidal to work with men and women dedicated to slaying the undead and keeping watch over the Gallowspire. And even if your accusation is true, Professor Lorrimor is dead. It is The Lady's place to judge him, not yours or mine."
Errr. Maybe we should put down the coffin? Gently of course.
They weren't moving. Figures. Alright, they wanted necromancy? Then they were going to get it! Leaning back behind the shaven human, Meenak curled up into a meditative state, tail swishing side to side as he placed his claws on his knees. "(Kibbi! Your master speaks!)" he hissed. 'Oooooo! State your wish, Master! State it!'
"(Here are my instructions...)" Meenak uttered a few words quietly, before closing his eyes to concentrate. Meanwhile, Kibbi cackled lightly, before swaying off to execute his master's commands.
A moment later, Meenak inhales as Kibbi flutters behind the mob of people, giggling as he started to make chattering noises. The kobold's snout twisted in concentration as he focused, trying to contort the noise. With any luck, he could make it sound as if mutterings of doubt were being whispered here and there between the various men. If only he'd had more time to practice - he could possibly have made it sound like human speech. But as it stood, the best he could do was unintelligible mumblings.
Now it was just a question of if the humans fell for it.
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For long moments, the men glare at your small band. Then, begrudgingly, they part, allowing you to pass. As you pass their ranks, more than a few make mumbled comments and muttered statements, but none challenge you openly.
The threat now past, the procession continues up to the plot Kendra purchased for her father. No further complications prevent the lowering of his coffin into the open grave by the gravediggers. Father Grimburrow gives a short sermon, then invites Kendra to say a few words about her father. Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or selfless moments, thanking everyone once again for coming. She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or
remembrances, eying your group particularly.
Good people, Kendra, Father Grimmorrow? I am like you all - a citizen of this immortal land. Like you, I fear what the night may bring and those legends we scare ourselves with made flesh. This is what made Lorrimor such a great man! He feared nothing save it be for the wellbeing of us, his fellow men.
I have been a victim of these evils - it was Petros Lorrimor who saved both my life and my sanity in the aftermath of the loss of my family when they were cruelly taken from my hearth and home by the walking dead.
At this he makes a spiral over his breast, a Pharasim sign against evil.
It t'was Petros who drove home the stake that destroyed that which was once my sister but who had become a thing of unspeakable foulness - a blood drinker who slew and took the rest of my family from my breast. It was he who nursed me back to health, gave me counsel, gave me training and gave me heart to do my part in protecting others, that they may not suffer as I did.
Good folk, mourn for this man that lies here and whose spirit has ascended to Pharasma's seat for a righteous judgement and mourn for yourselves if you had not chance to know him as I did - a man of bravery, compassion and intellect. One who made time for one such as I among his many responsibilities and whose burdens and role I now vow to take up in his place
Lorant listens to Mathus' impassioned eulogy and holds his wooden sunburst holy symbol to his chest. A dedicated man, just like Petros was. I hope I have time to get to know him better. Even though my father was one of the monsters he condemns, he may see me more as a kindred spirit rather than the enemy.
He steps up next, and addresses the mourners:
"As our dear friend Mathus has said, Professor Lorrimor never feared the night, never hesitated to gaze into the darkness to ferret out the truth. Even in the times where he got i over his head, he had loving friends and family, like us, who'd come to his rescue. And he in turn gave us a light in this dark, dark world, providing both knowledge and wisdom. He gave both to me, after I saved his life from a necromancer's trap years ago. He and his knightly companion, my future mentor, were pinned by the foul sage's reanimated minions. Though it was my yanking the Professor out of the way of a skeleton's rusty blade, that kept him alive, it turned out that he would end up showing me how to truly live instead. Saving me from a life wandering alone, showing me the strength in faith, and that in a world like ours, where darkness covers all, the one lone light shines all the brighter. He taught me how to be that light, and I hope one day to show others the same."
He turns to address the Professor's body.
"Farewell, old friend...farewell."
He rejoins the congregation to allow the next person to speak.
Meenak watched and listened as the others started to talk about the professor. Was... was he supposed to say something? It was quiet... should he... do something? About how he knew the Professor? Even Kibbi seemed remarkably quiet, simply lulling back and forth with an occasional rattle of his skull breaking the silence.
Meenk took a couple steps forward, looking about as if for approval, before speaking. "Uhm... Professor was a good softskin. He taught Meenak lots of stuff. Meenak taught him about Juju, and-- shut up, Kibbi!" he hissed, snapping his head up and swiping at the air as if trying to swat some invisible... thing.
Turning back, Meenak pulled out some strange little figure or fetish, vaguely resembling a humanoid, as he placed it on the side of the coffin. "Juju guide. Helps take the spirit to next world." he explained, frowning at the coffin before scowling. "...Meenak wasn't done with Professor. Had more to learn. Had more to teach. Meenak doesn't know who... but someone took Professor from him." His little black claw clenched as his fangs bore along his maw. "And Meenak will find them. Meenak will make them pay."
Relieved that the gang of locals let them pass, Cassiel was silent the whole walk up to the grave site. He feels more out-of-place with every step he takes, especially compared to the other mourners. A man of science whose family was destroyed by vampires, a man of faith who looked like he had one foot in the grave, and a kobold. I feel like I'm the only normal one here--and that makes me stick out all the more.
With the professor's coffin lowered into his grave, Cassiel waits as the other pallbearers make their eulogies. The kobold's eulogy makes him cringe (or rather, his behaviour--acting like some invisible fly is buzzing around your head and swatting at it is perhaps the LAST thing to do at a funeral). When his turn comes, however, he finds himself at a loss for words. He takes a breath and steps forward. Be polite. No foul language. No trying to be funny. Tell the truth, warts and all.
"...The story of how I met Professor Lorrimor is similar to Ser Endronil's. I was a squire out on patrol with my unit in Lastwall when we met--heading out to the Vaishau Ruin to make sure everything was in order. The ruin is notorious for being a breeding ground for spectral undead of all sorts--and as it happened, the professor apparently decided to go there on an expedition."
Cassiel takes another breath. "I was the first to hear the sounds of battle as my unit made camp for the night. I alerted my commander and we made haste to their side--we made it in time to see the professor's entourage in combat with wraiths and shadows. My lord commanded me to assist the survivors in escaping the fight while the senior knights fought the undead off, and so I did. It is with regret that I say not every member of Professor Lorrimor's party escaped alive, but I did all that I could to save the rest."
Oh, s@!*. I'm rambling. Stop now. Stop now, you dumb f&$~.
He doesn't take his own advice. "We returned to Vigil with the professor, and his gratitude was enough to convince my superiors to finally knight me. In a way, he was responsible for me finally earning my knighthood--for that, I'll always be grateful."
"If there's anything I regret about meeting him, it's that I never had a chance to get to know him better." Cassiel sighs and steps back. "And now I never will..."
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The proceedings finished and the Professor laid to rest, Kendra says her goodbyes to the rest of guests, she invites you back to her home (so recently her father’s) for a drink and to hear his last will and testament. The Lorrimor residence is a modest home with crowded bookshelves in every room. The reading of the professor’s will requires the presence of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount (the closest thing Ravengro has to a solicitor), and he has some other matters to attend to after the funeral, so he doesn’t arrive for about an hour.
Vashian arrives precisely on time, in any event. It is clear that he doesn’t completely approve of strangers being involved in local matters, but he keeps his comments to himself, focusing his involvement entirely on the reading of Petros’s will. Kendra isn’t sure what’s contained in the will, since part of its stipulation was that all of you must be present for its reading. Councilman Vashian produces a scroll case, shows that the professor’s personal seal is unbroken, then breaks the wax and opens the case. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the tube, clattering noisily onto the table. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read, eager to be done with the business and to get back home.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—-please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—-she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this
first day of Calistril, in the year 4715.”
Once the will is read, Councilman Vashian looks to Kendra, who thanks him and dismisses him. Putting on a brave face, Kendra turns to you. "Thank you for coming. I'll need at least a few weeks to decide whether to sell my family home, or even to remain here in Ravengro. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here for the month."
She then excuses herself to go fetch the chest mentioned in the will. The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and iron. Kendra, nervous about the contents, offers the key to you to give you the honor of opening the chest.
Meenak follows Kendra and the others back to the house. On entering, a jitter goes down his crest and back, wriggling out into his tail. Something was... dark in the house. He could practically feel it prickling at his scales. Even Kibbi seemed more erratic than usual. Thus, Meenak spent the hour waiting for the Councilman creating little charms, pendents and warding objects, hanging them around the house and furniture.
When Vashian arrives, Meenak perks up and finds a safe space underneath a table to watch cautiously. He listens carefully, though every so often, he takes the opportunity to swipe at the air, apparently trying to get Kibbi to be quiet so he could focus. His eyes go remarkably wide at the mention of what the Professor had set aside. 100 platinum coins!? That was enough to rival a dragon's horde! The prospect of staying in Ravengro wasn't terribly appealing to Meenak... but the circumstances suited him well. After all, every kobold knew how to fortify their warren against evils in and out of it. He'd have to give the house a look-over and see where to start constructing traps... as well as a place to work on his own stuff.
Meenak is glad to see Vashian leave, and more than eager to take the key Kendra offers. It was sorta shiny... good enough for him! But the chest... that was another story. He could feel something cold within. If nobody tries to snatch the key from him, he'll try to open the chest and see what lurks inside.
Cassiel is as quiet as ever when the procession retires to Kendra Lorrimor's lodgings. He listens to the reading of the will with some interest (in between giving the kobold puzzled/irritated looks every time he starts swatting at the air). So... I'm going to be spending a month here with everyone? I just hope the kobold doesn't cause too much trouble while I'm here...
When the time comes to open the box, Cassiel reaches out for the key, but is interrupted by Meenak plucking it out of her hands. He starts to say something, but sighs in resignation. "Oh, go ahead. Iomedae knows we're all itching to see what's in the box."
With that, Cassiel stands next to Kendra. "How are you feeling, Kendra?" He asks, his heart feeling heavier than it was at the funeral.
Malthus is touched by the bequest.
Enough money to restart my life, buy a new store, settle down... if I hadn't already committed my life to the extermination of the undead. Bless you Petros - it is also money enough to fund my hunt for many months to come.
Kendra - your offer of hospitality is accepted. If I can do anything to assist you, anything at all, you have only to ask.
He peers over at the Kobold with the key and waits for him to open the box.
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Inside the box are five books. Four are good sized tomes, the fifth being a leather chapbook with the words, "Read Me Now!" scratched into the cover. It sits atop the other four. The largest of the tomes has a rich purple cover set with a brass scarab with a single eye in its center. The covers are rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appears to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft. The key is nowhere to be found. There is no title or other identification.
The other three books are slightly smaller works, labeled, On Verified Madness, Serving Your Hunger, and The Umbral Leaves. Notes tucked into the latter three indicate that they are to be delivered to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. A note with the purple tome states that it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse. The note asks for this delivery in particular to be handled discreetly, and includes the address of Embreth’s home.
Looks like our old friend had known we would come and left us some instructions, Makthus says picking up the book saying 'Read me now' and leafing through it.
Lorant pats Cassiel on the shoulder as they proceed to the Lorrimor House.
"Well spoken, Cas. No need to call me "Ser," though, I'm still just a squire. Probably will stay that way for a long time. You're much more a Knight of Ozem than I'll ever be."
When they arrive he notes Meenak's industrious crafting and smiles a bit.
"You're a generous soul, Meenak. Old Diona, one of my foster mothers, used to make charms like those for the villagers back home in Grayce. You follow the Empyreal Lords as well?"
When the Councilman arrives, he listens intently, then when the amount is mentioned, his cold eyes widen and he whistles a bit. 100 platinum coins each. More money than he'd ever laid eyes on. He could outfit himself like a knight-errant with money like that. He thought the Professor's request that they stay in Ravengro that long was odd. Even though he'd spent more than a year in Lastwall, he'd felt restless and eager to wander. But he owed a lot to Petros, and knew that to a man like him, a month was a short time indeed.
He looks at the books and winces a bit.
"Holy texts, if you can call them that. For the faiths of Urgathoa and Zon-Kuthon. I think the third one's similar, but for some disparate set of cults or something. I don't know the specifics. I suppose if you want to fight evil it helps to know how the evil you're fighting thinks. Then again evil has a tendency to think along familiar patterns."
He looks over Mathus' shoulder at the "Read Me Now!" book, curious as to what Petros had to say from beyond the grave.
Meenak paused from his setting up charms to look up at the scary religious fellow. "Not generous. Meenak likes shinies. Meenak is making Juju guards. Dark stuff in this warren. Need protection." Satisfied with his explanation, he proceeded to hang a necklace made from beads, feathers and a partially broken rat skull off a nearby chair. "What are... Important Lords?"
Peering into the chest, Meenak's little yellow eyes widen as he looks about at the books. 'Evil! Evil! Daaaaarkness inside! Hide them!' Kibbi sputtered, immediately flying about and promptly finding a safe hiding spot behind Cassiel's shoulder. Meenak quirked a brow at him, before looking back to the books and picking up the big purple one, heaving it out and plopping it on the floor. He poked at the lock with his claw, as if his tiny talon would help open the lock. "This doesn't seem to radiate darkness... 'Take to Justice Embreth Daramid'... isn't that the person with our shinies?"
"Well spoken, Cas. No need to call me "Ser," though, I'm still just a squire. Probably will stay that way for a long time. You're much more a Knight of Ozem than I'll ever be."
"Don't put me on a pedestal yet." Cassiel replies. "If you knew how much of a handful I was as a squire, you'd be wondering who was foolish enough to grant me paladinhood."
----------------------------"What are... Important Lords?"
"Empyreal Lords, Meenak, are essentially embodiments of mortal virtues. They're not as powerful as fully-fledged gods, but they're capable of granting holy power to their faithful all the same." Cassiel says, feeling rather proud of himself.
"This doesn't seem to radiate darkness... 'Take to Justice Embreth Daramid'... isn't that the person with our shinies?"
"It would seem so." Cassiel nods. "After a month of staying here to help Miss Lorrimor get settled in."
Lorant looks towards the book Meenak is poking at and thinks about it. He could have sworn he'd seen that emblem somewhere before in his journeys.
While Lorant examines Meenak's book, Cassiel turns back to Kendra. "Kendra? How are you feeling?"
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Kendra starts, shaken from her reverie. "Tired... overwhelmed, even," she replies. "It's all been so much."
"Take a look at the entries marked in red...Mathus, was it? Call me crazy but I suspect those are what Petros wanted us to find."
He smiles a bit sheepishly at his stumbling with Mathus' name and attempted joke, and unwittingly reveals canine teeth that he'd notice are far too sharp for the average human being.
Meenak turns the book over and over in his effort to find some way to open it... or at least read what it was. Finally fed up, he set the book down and stood up, folding his arms over his chest and snarling at the book.
At the mention of finding something the Professor wanted them to see, however, Meenak immediately spirited over, looking in at the pages to see what they said. "What? Where? What does it say? More helpful than dumb purple book?"
Mathus takes an unconcious step backwards as he sees the canines.
A Vampyre!, he things as he recoils, then his reason catches up with him No, he couldn't be - for I saw him in the day time. Could he be one of the Lupus Dei? I best watch carefully!.
Mathus covers his suprise with a cough.
Lets sit and read these entries then, he says motioning towards some seats
Lorant notices Mathus' revulsion.
"What troubles you, Mathus?"
A sudden chill... nothing more, a passing reaction. Come - let us read.
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Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Two Months Ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—-the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—-there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—-no, strike that—-someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation-—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
"The Whispering Way! The ancient enemy of the Knights of Ozem." Lorant exclaims.
As the excitement passes he strokes his beard thoughtfully.
"I think I begin to see the reason we were called here. The REAL reason. Kendra, how DID your father pass away, exactly?"
Cassiel is quiet while Lorant reads out the entries with Mathus... but his ears perk up at the mention of the Whispering Way.
His face turns grim when he hears how Professor Lorrimor passed away. "You think the Whispering Way is behind Professor Lorrimor's death, Lorant?"
Lorant nods.
"Given the circumstances of his death and his prior spying on them, I'd say it's more than likely, Cas. And what's more, he knew it was a possibility that he might not survive. So he laid a plan in place before making his move. In the event that the Whispering Way killed him, a band of capable folk would be called to Ravengro under the auspices of being benificiaries in his will, and given the information needed to finish what he started, avenge his death and defend both his home and his daughter from whatever evil the Whispering Way has unleashed from Harrowstone."
Meenak listens quietly, before snarling and growling angrily. "Meenak knew it! Someone took Professor from him! MEENAK WASN'T FINISHED WITH HIM!!!" he railed loudly, pounding at the chest and clambering on it, raising his clenched claws in the air. "Where are they!? Meenak wants to find them! Meenak will claw out their eyes and drag what's left back to his warren and make them mine for blightburn! Where are they?! Where is this Hiss-pering Way!"
"If they aren't still at Harrowstone, they'll likely have left clues there to indicate where they went. It won't be easy, though. They thrive in the darkness within Ustalav. This was the seat of their old empire centuries ago, until Iomedae, Arnisant and the rest of the Shining Crusade broke the Whispering Tyrant's power and imprisoned him in the Gallowspire. They could be anywhere. And so we must hunt them, sniff out their warrens and run them down. Your zeal would make you a good Knight of Ozem, Meenak, though they'd probably look askance at your...unique faith."
Meenak snarls furiously towards Lorant, though his stance makes it look like he isn't really mad at him. "Meenak doesn't want to be a knight. Meenak just wants revenge!"
Hopping off the chest, Meenak looks affixed on the door. "Meenak wants to see the Harrowstone. Do you think they left undead there? Meenak can track them if they did. Meenak has... methods. Kibbi!" The kobold directs his glare to Cassiel... or more accurately, over his shoulder slightly.
Kibbi flutters up, before immediately soaring to his master's side and chattering. 'Yeeeees master. Speak and I shall act.' Meenak nods, growling. "Meenak and Kibbi will investigate the Harrowstone." He said, marching to the door and stepping out of sight... before returning a moment later and looking to Kendra. "...where is the Harrowstone?"
"Who's Kibbi?" Lorant asks.
"In any event, it'll do Petros' soul no good if you run off to Harrowstone unprepared and get yourselves killed. We should pick up where he left off, learn the identities of whatever ghosts might be there, that sort of thing."
Meenak blinks back at Lorant's question, looking up at Kibbi and back to the larger being. Finally, he snaps his clawed fingers as if recalling something. "Yes, yes, you big races can't see him. Meenak forgets sometimes. Kibbi is Meenak's Juju familiar. Meenak summoned him many years ago - trying to exorcise an angry spirit from a Swampscale burial cavern. Meenak did it... but forgot how to do it again. Juju is poorly documented... Professor taught Meenak how to take good notes, Meenak taught him Juju. Better notes... but Meenak still can't do the ritual again. Kibbi is helpful... but noisy. Kibbi! Say hello!"
As if on command, a strange series of whispers emanates from near Lorant's shoulder, though it's audible to all present. The whispering sounds like coherent speech, but the volume and tone make it exceptionally difficult to understand. At best, it sounds like some sort of ominous greeting. Meenak watches for a moment, before tracing some trail back to his own shoulder and nodding. "Meenak won't get killed. Meenak needs to find if any undead are running around. Meenak knows how to track undead back to it's source!" he proclaims, claws on his hips and looking fairly proud of himself. "Meenak can also ask the rats. They know lots, usually."
Mathis pales at the mention of going to see ghosts in Harrowstone and seems relieved when the idea is dropped.
Yes... Research, that's the key.