The day began badly. You were interrupted in the course of your normal activities to be informed of the death of Professor Petros Lorrimor. For some of you, the sadness of the loss of a friend. For others, more of a passing acquaintance. For all of you, that brief shudder of remembrance that for all of us, one day, death will come calling, and our friends will receive a message informing them of our demise.
The message came as a personal one from Lorrimor's daughter, Kendra. Some of you may remember her as a small child, always inquisitive and boding fair to become an impressive scholar in her own right. She writes that some 15 years ago, her father had retired from the University of Lepidstadt and had made his home in the town of Ravengro, although still making research trips and the odd lecture tour. He met his demise in a tragic accident whilst conducting research in the environs of Ravengro, and in the copious instructions that he had left, requested that you each be summoned to attend his funeral and to hear the reading of his Last Will and Testament.
And so you have come, from the far corners of the Inner Sea and beyond, drawn by conflicting emotions: respect, curiousity, admiration, even fear...
The day and time of the interment is now at hand. Kendra's message requested that you come to The Restlands, as the town burial ground is known, and meet her at the gate. She hinted that perhaps some of you might feel moved to act as pall-bearers for this, his last journey.
After the ceremony, Kendra has offered the hospitality of the family home. A wake, of course. The formal reading of the will. And of course you will be welcome to stay a while before you return to, well, whatever you were doing when this missive arrived.
You'll have time to explore in due course, and I shall use the letters as reference to the various locations of interest. For now, The Restlands is indicated by P, off the map to the north of town.
In that delightful machination that's the DM's perogrative, you have all arrived precisely at the time you need to present yourselves at the graveyard gates to attend the funeral. So please describe yourselves as you arrive... you may have travelled with friends who are also invited, or you may discover that people you know are standing there as a small crowd gathers to await the appointed time.
Walking through the town of Ravengro with his trusty friend Nesser, Terrick looked around with wide eyes at the various buildings and people of the land. Having never visited this part of the world in his travels, the half orc was supremely interested in what it was like.
People eyed the large, emerald green skinned humanoid warily, unsure of him as he passed. They also eyed the large cloaked figure that walked beside him with a strange gait. This wariness was compounded by the glowing blue run that was visable on Terrick's forehead.
As Terrick and Nesser got nearer to the Restlands, Terrick could see that the funeral party was gathered. He adjusted his armor, and then turned to make sure that Nesser was completely covered. No sense in terrifying the locals yet he thought to himself.
Once he reached the gates, Terrick began to looked around for Kendra, hoping to introduce himself and figure out why a man whose life he saved wanted him at these preceedings exactly, and if he could help in any way.
For anyone looking at Terrick, you will quickly notice his dark emerald green skin, and the fact that he looks remarkably human save for the skin and two small fangs coming out from his lower jaw. He wears a very basic suit of studded leather armor which is well cared for, and has a morning star and crossbow with him. The most unique feature though is the glowing blue rune that sits square in his forehead and is not covered in any way by his coarse black hair.
With him a being stands hunched over, covered in a basic brown hooded cloak that covers its features. A blue glow emanates from beneath the hood, but beyond that nothing can really be seen. It keeps its hands hidden in the folds of the cloak as well, but it walks with a very strange gait, as if it is not entirely human.
Dillan looked at the small gathering; a somber lot it would seem. Something that was not all to uncommon in Ustalav. It was evident there were other travelers there and two whom he recognized; Tre’Duinne and Taelin. Great the elves, I’m sure we won’t be staying in this town long, well at least not the elves. Pulling his cloak closer to fight off the chill air he musters the courage to approach Kendra, how long had it been since he last saw her, and of course would she still recognize him? His ears had healed from the event that apparently led him to this day; the scars remained and so did the pain.
Pulling his hood back slightly only to reveal his face, “I have come at your request and to pay my respects.” Dillan looks over at the half-orc and his travelling companion, now there’s one that will take the attention from the elves! He knows this one had to of known the professor as well and moves over to the casket, “Will you help me bear this burden?”
Dillan is tall, just under six foot with a very slender muscular build. His frame is slightly outlined by the loose cloak he wears and in most looks to be human. His face does appear to be too clean shaven almost as if he lacks facial hair, but with his hoods current placement his head is not fully visible. Within his eyes seems to be a perpetual sadness; one that also seems to eat away at any happiness that might be contained within.
As he bends to secure a hold on the casket his cloak parts and simple leather is seen, a small sword on his left hip and a crossbow clipped to his right.
A tall slim young man with long blonde or is it golden hair cascading down over his shoulders, covering most of his ears, except the pointy ear tips that peek through the curtain of hair as he walks elegantly towards the funeral party. He wears clothes tailored perfectly to his body, a deep blue cloak falls down his back, with a subtle design that flitters in the sun, giving a darker sheen almost black, that almost looks alive as the fibres shift with his body's movements. The cloak resting on his left arm, provides you the opportunity to make out the warm cloth lining, cross stitched and with a golden patten of tiny small lines, which on very, very close inspection look like depictions of bones.
The cloak covers his long flowing coat with of vivid blue and crimson diamonds, with more golden sigils on each diamond, the collar, cuffs and coats bottom edging are of the same deep blue as his cloak. The stylish coat, hangs down below his knees, where hardy polished blue leather boots with golden eyelets for the laces provide a splash of colour to contrast the dark navy blue of the boots and laces.
Under his coat, a plain crimson shirt, a dark blue, almost black belt holding up stylishly cut blue plus four trousers, which just touch his boots. Falling to his side, attached to a chain is a silver flute, that sparkles as the sun catches it.
The golden hair parted in the middle frames a long angular face, of a pale but perfect skin. His eyes are dark pools, which appear to change colour between a light numbing black, a fathomless blue and a deep purple found in the robes of the mystical clerics, as the light plays over him. He smiles, thin lips tight as he greets you in a silky voice that sings of the joy of the living, yet some have heard him, when his scowling voice is enough to bring a normal man to his knees
in fear, and his eyes can shoot a look that beckons you to prefer death to the living.
As he approaches a sweet voice reaches out to Kendra, "My dear lady, I was distressed to hear of your lose, and came to pay my respects to a great man of knowledge and your father. Such pain you must feel, at his passing." He moves forward and gently kisses the Kendra's cheek in greeting and sorrow. "If there is anything I can do to help you in your grief, then I will act as your humble servant in it's execution. Yours is to just ask." He bows and pulls back slightly, looking around at the rest of the funeral party. His eyes pass disdainfully over the half-orc and his companion, before seeing resting on Dillan trying to recall where he saw that face, realising that it is no one of consequence. He stands close, but does not offer to help carry, the coffin, his face showing him deep in thought.
As Taelin passes through Ravengro on her way to the Restlands with Sunny, she tips a nod to the occasional familiar face. How different it is to be back knowing he won't be here. Taelin shakes her head, and pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders against the cold. Sunny merely shakes her head and follows the tall Changeling.
As Taelin reaches the Restlands, she first makes her way to the casket to say a silent prayer. As she finishes, she makes the sign of the butterfly over her chest, then doubles it with the sign of a long-tailed bird. As she lifts her head, she recognizes one of the people nearby. "A sad day, Dillan. I am sorry that we meet again under these circumstances."
Taelin then makes her way to Kendra. "My condolences on the loss of your father. He was a great man, and his life was a thing of beauty, bringing joy to many and light to us all. Would some music be appropriate, or should I help to bear the casket?" Turning to the stranger standing nearby, Kaelin reaches out one hand to shake. "Taelin Taurehin, seeker of beauty, light, and truth."
Looking at the elven woman, Tre'duinne offers a smile tinged with sadness,
"Greetings Taelin Taurehin, although not in the best of circumstances, we both feel the pain of lose. The human life is like the flowers that bloom in spring, yet are withered and died by autumns end. The time when they flower can be so fruitful and wonderous, yet it lasts but briefly. The Professor was both warmed hearted and a man of great knowledge for even the short time of his life. I Tre'duinne Braeguldae will miss the friendship the Professor and I shared. No doubt you too will feel the lose."
Noticing the group of elves that appear to be converging on a single woman near the open casket, Terrick motions for Nesser to follow him, and walks over.
"Um excuse me..." he begins hesitantly, "My name is Terrick...are you Kendra miss? I got a letter from you requesting my presence but in all honesty I am not sure why. I only met the professor once." Terrick fidgets, not sure how to deal with the new people or how they might percieve him.
The being in the cloak growls softly, and then speaks, its voice gutteral and inhuman. "You saved his life Terrick. I guess he wants to pay you back somehow."
Terrick turns to face the being. "Well Nesser thats all fine and dandy but I am still not sure why I was named in the will." Turning back to the assembled people. "Could one of you enlighten me? I am afraid I get easily confused sometimes..." Terrick chuckles to himself, but its strained, as if he is uncomfertable around new people.
Replying in Common, "I shall feel the loss as well, Master Braeguldae. The passing of a life is the worst kind of loss, regardless of who they may have been. There is so much potential in life, and even those living it to the fullest cannot always express everything they wished to."
Turning to Terrick and the mysterious figure in the cloak, Taelin introduces people. "Terrick, Nesser, these are Kendra Lorrimor and Tre'duinne Braeguldae. My name is Taelin Taurehin. In regards to why we are here, I suspect that will be revealed to us when the time is right. I myself do not know why we were called to assemble thus, barring paying our respects to the dear departed." As she introduces herself, Taelin holds out a hand to each of the two new people.
Seeing the hand, Terrick smiles and seems to let out a breath in relief. Taking it firmly, he shakes it and nods. "I guess that makes sense. Still have no idea why I am here though."
When the hand is offered to Nesser however, the being looks down at it, and then puts a hand out. The hand itself is dog like in appearence, with coarse green fur, small bright white clawed tips, and black stone like skin. The most bizarre part however is that the hand only has 4 digits instead of the usual five. Nesser does not take the hand, but rather waits to see if Taelin will take it.
Terrick simply watches the exchange, as if to see how the people around will react to this.
Kendra is a tall, slim human female of some 25 summers. Her eyes are red and puffy and is dressed in dark, conservative clothes - a floor-length dark red dress. Her dark hair is uncovered, tied up in a bun atop her head. Trim and attractive, she greets you all as you arrive with a mixture of curiosity, sadness, and relief - for, as she says, no one else has come to pay their respects to her father, and "with
things the way they are in town these days," very few folks from Ravengro have come out for the funeral either.
She waves off questions for now, promising you that after her father is buried and you all return to her house, she'll answer any questions you have — both about her father's death and about his will.
"And as for why he asked for you, specifically, to be invited, I know not. It was just a list of those who were to be summoned. Perhaps his will shall make it clear. Councilman Vashian Hearthmount will preside over the reading of the will after we are done here."
She gestures round the few people standing by the gate. "These good folks have come to honour my father. They are Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, Councilman Gharen Muricar, the tavernkeeper Zokar Elkarid and his son Pevrin, and finally Jominda Fallenbridge, the apothecary and one of my father's good friends."
The people indicated nod solomnly but do not speak.
"The custom here is that the deceased is borne through the graveyard by his friends on his last journey, to the burial site where the priest awaits him. I see one you is ready to accept the pallbearer's burden, I thank you... perhaps a few more? The custom is four to six..."
Zokar Elkarid the tavernkeeper steps forwards at once to stand beside Dillan. Anyone else wish to help?
Nice introductions, folks...
"While I am not very strong, my friend Nesser is. He can help carry the casket if you wish." Terrick prods Nesser, who moves forward and bows, a bit clumsily. He growls out "I would be honored to carry your honored father for you, on Terrick's behalf. The poor boy got all the brains but none of the brawn." There is a gutteral chuckle after this, as Nesser laughs at his own joke.
A foppish looking elf with a sword strapped across his back appears at the entrance of the Restlands. Taelin knows him as a comrade in arms, a warrior-scholar by the name of Silas Tyr.
"Am I late?" He asks sheepishly.
Sensing that he just asked a stupid question, Silas volunteers to be one of the pallbearers, "Let me help you with that."
"The Professor would be tickled to see us here, you know, Taelin."
Looking at the others, "Hello. I am Silas."
Dillan nods at Taelin but says nothing in return. As the others move into a conversation and introductions Dillan seems to just meld into the casket, accepting the place of not being seen.
At the sight of another elf Dillan can't but help to hug closer to the casket, great, if this doesn't ask for problems I don't know what will. Dillan then moves his hood shadowing his face to more appropriately 'play' the part of pallbearer.
Tre' nods acknowledgment of the half-orc, but makes no move to offer his hand to him or his friend. Instead he turns to Kendra and the accompanying gentlemen, "My Lady Kendra, if I might give your father a tribute in music as we take him to his resting place?"
If the Lady answers 'yes', when the time comes for the procession to make it's way to the graveside, Tre' takes the silver flute and breathes gently across the blow hole, producing a mournful song of grace and beauty.
Perform(Wind Instrument) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Added +2 to perform on my character sheet, as the class feature gives you a masterwork item for free.
Likely to be a bit iffy over Easter, on vacation now with family and stuff, but hope to be in fairly regularly..play on and have fun.
Watching as Nesser takes a place with the other bearers, Terrick begins to quickly count. "Well looks like we have six bearers at the moment! Let us begin to pay our respects, such as they are." Nesser mutters something under its breath, and reaches down to grab one of the poles. His hands come free when he does, once again showing the dark green fur, black stone like skin and paw like hands. He grips the pole, and waits for the others to begin.
"So he might, Silas. So he might." Taelin pulls her cloak off, then reverses it to turn the black side out, then puts it back on and pulls the hood down over her face to mirror Dillan. She leans down and gets a good grip on the casket, standing at one of the front positions.
Tre'duinne, at Kendra's nod, begins to play a suitably mournful air as Taelin, Nesser, Dillan, Silas and the tavernkeeper take their places around the casket.
Kendra explains the route the funeral procession will take - along a gravel pathway called the Dreamwake which winds through the burial ground to where the priest and gravediggers wait at the already-dug grave.
You all move off, pacing slowly, with Kendra in the lead. She beckons Tre'duinne to walk behind her, then the pallbearers, with the other townsfolk and those of you not carrying the coffin bringing up the rear. Tendrils of mist and the mournful tune wrap around you as the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep. Ahead, you see that the way is blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals.
Quietly enough that the surly group doesn't hear, but just loud enough to reach Kendra's ears, "More mourners, or do they have another purpose?"
Knowledge(religion) to see if this is a normal part of the ceremony: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Perception on the group: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Sense Motive on the group: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Dillan looks at the group formed ahead, yep, I knew it. Well while they beat the elves and half-orc I should be able to get away unscathed. Dillan keeps his hood low concealing his face and just attempting to blend in as a silent mourner/pallbearer. Will these people ever learn tolerance?
At the back of the crowd, Terrick spends his time glancing at all the intricate gravestones and other interesting things, not really paying much attention to where the procession is going. Suddenly, a voice in his mind says We got trouble! and he looks up.
Upon seeing the surly locals, Terrick groans. He has seen many mobs like this and it never bodes well. Putting on his most winning smile, Terrick walks towards the front of the group and waves cheerfully.
"Hello sirs and madams! My name is Terrick, how are you all today?" Without waiting for an answer, Terrick bows quickly and then continues. "We are just escorting our dearly departed friend the professor to his final resting place, and seeing you all here brings me hope. Did you all come by chance to pay your final respects? I hope so! Come and join our procession so we can honor the dead together!"
Hoping that his speech wins the crowd over, Terrick continues to smile and wait.
Diplomacy Check 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17 attempting to win the crowd over or avert disaster! And somehow it rolled a NEGATIVE d20 hahaha FIXED. Huh I have no idea why its saying "1d1d20" at all. I typed 1d20+9 in the brackets... There we go found it!
Tre' watches as the half-orc blunders forwards to greet the crowd, however he continues his tune, hoping that the mournful tune will quieten them, if they seek trouble. Sometimes it is better to wait and see the situation plays out before making one's move, now is such a time.
An elderly but wiry fellow, looks like he has seen military service in his time, steps forwards out of the group barring your way. He seems oblivious to Terrick's diplomatic words.
"That's far enough," he says. "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!"
At the front of your little procession, Kendra stiffens. She steps forwards, almost pushing past Terrick.
"What are you talking about?" she cries out, her sadness turning to anger. "I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been..."
"You don't get it, woman," the old man interrupts, meeting her anger with fury of his own.
He seems about to say more, does anyone wish to interject a comment here or will you hear him out?
Dillan maintains his place as pallbearer, and here comes the blood shed. Hoping this man can be talked down and also beginning to feel the wait of the coffin, "Perhaps we should put the Professor down for a moment?" His question spoken quietly so only those near the casket can hear.
From her place at the side of the coffin, Taelin murmurs, "That might be a good idea."
Shaking her hood back from her head, Taelin calls to the man, "Perhaps we should talk about this, friend. Professor Lorrimor has done nothing to deserve his remains being disincluded from this cemetery. Perhaps, if you could explain your objection, we could try to come to some sort of understanding or compromise?"
Dillan maintains his place as pallbearer, and here comes the blood shed. Hoping this man can be talked down and also beginning to feel the wait of the coffin, "Perhaps we should put the Professor down for a moment?" His question spoken quietly so only those near the casket can hear.
Nesser looks at Dillan as if noticing him for the first time, and then nods. "I agree," the being growls out, "we should put him down for the moment, just in case." Nesser glances at the other bearers to see how they feel about it.
The tavernkeeper agrees that putting the coffin down might be a good idea, and you pallbearers lower it gently to the ground.
"I repeat, you don't seem get it, woman. We won't have a stinking necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now," says the obstructing group's spokesman.
Kendra stiffens, so enraged that she's lost for words.
Anyone who wishes may attempt Diplomacy once more to calm the situation - you'll need to pacify Kendra who seems about to say something as well as the villagers.
What are you all doing and saying? Has anyone readied a weapon?
Maintaining a respectful distance from the villagers, Silas sketches a courtly bow that is out of place with his present surroundings.
"Kendra, my dear, please hold that thought. You love your father that much is certain but staining his memory with unseemly words will only serve to darken this already sorry day."
Turning to the angry mob, "Gentlemen, my comrade, the Professor, cannot be described in any way, shape or form as a necromancer. And if you will hear me out I am prepared to give testimony here and now, as to his work as a defender of our civilization."
"Without giving the crowd any chance to voice any objection, "Gentlemen, it was almost a decade ago when I corresponded with the Professor about an unseemly convergence of planetary alignments. You all of course recall that eclipse, yes?"
Silas nods and encourages the others in the crowd and his companions to imitate his gesture.
"The Professor whose insights into the matter led me, this humble representation, to chance discovery into a rift."
"You ask yourselves what is a rift, then I will tell you. A rift is a tear in our reality by which beings from other worlds travel to our world. And yes the discovery of the rift before it became full grown enabled me, this humble representation, with the aid of the Eagle Knights, who I am sure you have heard of, to close the rift."
"Now, the Eagle Knights are good, yes? And if you prevent beings from another world from coming here then that is a good thing, yes? Then it is but logical to conclude that the person who helped all this good things to come to pass is also good. That person being the Professor, who we have all come I am sure to honor this day. Think about it?"
"Hence, the Professor is not a necromancer. Don't you see?"
I don't know how much circumstance bonus I was able to load that utter fabrication but here goes nothing for rolling...
diplomacy 1d20 ⇒ 13
Seeing Kendra stiffen up and the villagers ready to start a brawl, Terrick coughs to draw attention to himself.
"Now now folks, regardless of what a person was in life, do they not deserve the same respect as we do in death? Even if he was a necromancer, and I will say he never struck me as such, unless he was some sort of mad evil wizard bent on world domination he should be accorded a place among his home's graveyard. It is the right an honorable thing to do! And my dear Kendra, no need to let them upset you. People often say things to hurt others in situations of stress, and you should rise above it. This is a day for mourning, and a fight would dishonor your father. Please calm down, both of you." Terrick finishes, looking at both Kendra and the man speaking.
Diplomacy Check go go, daddy needs a new pair of shoes! 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12 - Great, a low roll. This is going well >.>
After the pallbearers set the professor down, Taelin steps forward to stand between the group and Kendra. "Please, my friends. I might agree with the sentiment of your remarks. The Eternal Rose herself is not terribly fond of the practicers of necromancy. The late Professor, though, wasn't a necromancer. He was a simple scholar, and he studied those areas of magic that would assist in his duties as a scholar."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Taelin is standing perhaps halfway between the group's spokesman and Kendra, hands upraised with palms up in a placating gesture. And no kidding, Terrick.
Nesser grunt, and walks over to stand behind Terrick. He growls out looking directly at the assembled crowd. "Why don't you all just go home before you upset us. I really do not think you should be bothering us at the moment. This is disrepectful of the dead. Didn't your parents teach you better?"
Just then a stray gust of wind catches Nesser's hood, throwing it off his face. His head now open for everyone to see, the people who look see what can only be describe as a wolfs head, covered in coarse green fur and with a blue glowing rune in the middle of his forehead. His mouth is filled with razor sharp teeth and the skin under his fur is black.
Nesser grunts, and pulls the hood back up over his face. "Stupid wind." he mutters.
As the coffin is laid down Dillan stays in the crouched positioned, keeping his cloak about him like a 'bell' he's able to move his hands around his form. Securing a hold on his crossbow and then loading a bolt, well nice surprised shot should do.
Sleight of Hand
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Not sure if I would also get any circumstance bonus to this with the others keeping the crowds focus and Silas fine story!
With a lot of muttering the knot of hostile villagers begin to drift away, leaving their spokesman... who suddenly realises that he's alone. He mumbles something about "... spineless sons of..." as he stomps off.
"Idiots!" says Kendra. "Superstitious fools! Father never practised necromancy in his life. He didn't close any rifts, either..."
She takes a deep breath, visibly clearing her anger... and then another, to hold back the tears.
"Thank you. Thank you all. Let's get this thing done before they come back." Without a backward glance she continues along the walkway towards the gravesite.
The priest - at least you'd guess so given the robes - comes looming out of the mist.
"Are you all right, child? It sounded like trouble was brewing..."
That's when Kendra loses it and bursts into floods of tears.
Seeing the group of villagers dispere with only minor grumbling, Terrick breathed a sigh of relief. "Glad that mess is over.." he began. When the priest appeared, Terrick was already motioning for Nesser to get back in his position as bearer, but when Kendra started to cry, Terrick froze. Glancing at the others in the procession, he frowns. "Umm shouldn't one of us you know...talk to her? Maybe one of you others? I am not really good at the whole comforting bit..."
Taelin moves to Kendra's side, putting an arm around the younger woman and offering her a corner of her cloak. "Here, Miss Kendra, dry your eyes. They spoke only from fear of what they could not understand. We all know your father was no necromancer. He was a good man, a just man. We would not have let them stop today from proceeding as planned."
(Cha or Diplomacy?) to help calm her down: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
The two councillors in the funeral party profess shock at the attack and Councilman Gharen Muricar says that the thugs are "local farmhands, all of low character."
The priest steps forwards and holds his hands out to Kendra.
"They are gone now, child. Come... let us do what has to be done."
Kendra snuffles her way into silence as the priest turns to the group.
"Welcome. I am Father Grimburrow. This disgraceful behaviour brings shame..." He controls himself with an effort. "Come along please, this way."
He leads the cortege to the gravesite, and recites a prayer commending the Professor's soul to Pharasma, the Lady of Graves before directing the two gravediggers to lower the coffin into the waiting earth.
"For let us all remember that in life we are always close to death, and our Lady Pharasma awaits us all in the end. So while living, conduct yourselves as if she were due to call you in the morning, yet engage in your activities as if she would not receive you for a thousand years," he says by way of sermon, then turns to Kendra and asks her if she would like to say a few words.
Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or self-less moments, thanking everyone once again for coming. She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or
Please feel welcome to post a few remarks, and those who wish to 'use' social skills may roll a Diplomacy or Perform check.
Dillan steps forward ignoring the others or if there was even a turn the Priest wanted everyone to take. Kneeling before the grave he grabs a handful of the dirt, squeezes, then releases it onto the casket in its resting place. In a low voice he speaks, low enough that those not close would struggle to hear, "I regret not being there for you as you were for me. But if I can repay my debt to any of your kin, rest easy I will." He wipes the remaining dirt from his hand then takes a place at the back of the gathering.
Terrick, flanked by Nesser, walk over to the side opposite Dillan. Terrick bows his head and in a calm low voice speaks.
"I did not know you well. In all honestly I barely knew you. But if your daughters reaction is any indication, I know you to have been a good just man, worthy of respect. I hope that where you go is a place full of peace, where you can continue to experience joy and happiness. Know that your daughter is safe and will be protected, and that you go with our love."
Nesser just bows his head, saying nothing.
Diplomacy Check 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23