20th Arodus, 4711
Your long journey to the town of Ravengro is finally at an end, begun those many days ago when a messenger brought you a summons stating that your old friend Professor Petros Lorrimer is dead and had named you as a principal in his will. Though each of you has your own fond memories of the professor, you never expected to be named in his will. However, the news of his passing has affected you enough that each of you made arrangements to leave the task at hand, buckled on your boots, and set forth through the waning days of summer toward the small town of Ravengro.
Ravengro sits near Lake Lias in western Ustalav, in the county of Canterwall- breadbasket of the confederacy. Passing through the fields, moors and groves of this fertile land, you saw many a farmer, tradesman or merchant on your path. Few, however, had anything to say to even the warmest greeting. Even after arriving in town it took a bit of asking around to get proper directions to the Restlands- the moorland to the north set aside for the dead in Ravengro, where Professor Lorrimer will be layed to his final rest. On the road to the cemetery, you can't help but notice the looming keep or manor house standing silently south of the town. The seemingly decrepit structure squats silently atop a hill, a baleful sentinel over the small town.
The Restlands are fenced in with high stone walls with multiple paths winding through its many openings. Clustered around the large main entrance is a small group of people: an overweight older man with a thin mustache stands with a slimmer man with aquiline features and grey in his temples. Both are dressed in dark and well-tailored clothing, fanning themselves solemnly with the broad-brimmed hats favored in this region. A stocky man with a wide, friendly face and a thick mustache stands with a hand on the shoulder of a lad of about thirteen with a clear resemblance to the older man while a woman in her thirties stands near the stone wall, her arms crossed over her conservative dark dress.
Laying on several short logs is the Professor's casket- a dark polished oak box to transmit his earthly remains. Standing closest to that is a young woman dressed in dark clothing. She is trim and attractive despite the redness and puffiness around her eyes. She dabs her cheek with a handkerchief and looks to the sky with moist eyes. This must be the Professor's daughter you had heard about.
The other mourners in the party nod warily as you approach, covered with the dust of the road and with your weapons and packs still close at hand. They offer no other greeting. The young lady by the casket snaps from her reverie to watch your approach, her eyebrows rising hopefully.
As she approached Alison set her face with the appropriate somberness for the occasion. It wasn't that she didn't feel an appropriate sense of sadness or loss it was just that having lived in Ustalav her entire life she was used to being cheery to spite the world but in this situation didn't want to aggravate the grieved. Her dark clothing and gray greatcoat already matched the mourners attire and as she approached she did her beast to beat the dust of travel from her leggings and boots.
Alison nodded to the daughter of the professor and offered some quiet words of condolences to those she passed until she was standing with the throng of mourners. Having taken her place amongst the group she waited for something to happen, watched the other dusty travelers approaching and did her best to ignore the pervasive chill.
As she approaches the gorup, Evelyn takes quick stock of the mourners, before offering a brief nod to the late professors daughter. As she moves to the rear of the group, her gaze lingers on Alison for a few extra moments, before turning her attention to the lastest guests to arrive.
"What is it about her I don't trust? Gods, Ev, you don't know anything about her. Well, except for dark hair, unnaturally pale skin, unusual eyes, anf gray greatcoat large enough to be hiding anything. Well, since when do I need a reason not to trust someone"
Luka Katic follows close behind the two woman, but where as they stop and find places at the back of the small group, he continues on, up to the casket, nodding a hello to the professor's daughter as he passes. Kneeling on one knee, he places his hand on the casket, and says a few words to himself. Standing, he turns back to the daughter, and says, "You have my condolences. He was a good man," before finding a place to the side.
Arasmes drags himself towards the funeral party, clearly exhausted from his long journey. Upon reaching the gathering, he leans on his spear, betraying a lack of experience with weapons. He is a haggard man, thin and weary, with unkempt greasy black hair. He rubs the back of his neck with one dirty hand, an almost compulsive gesture, as if he has some sore or wound that he cannot help but prod.
It would be easy to dismiss the man–he has the look of a wastrel, of a man who has frittered away his life on addictions–and yet there is some mysterious, almost unexplainable, power of attraction inhering in Arasmas, as if the shattered man standing there conceals some deeper, alien, presence.
Seeing Lorrimor's daughter, Arasmes walks over to her, saying: Forgive me, I am Arasmes of Cassomir? his statement ending with a slight rise in inflection as if the man is uncertain of who is, or perhaps of what right he has to be here, at this funeral. I knew your father briefly. I mean, I was his student. I sent him a letter a while ago. He never responded. I assumed he had forgotten me. . . Arasmes trails off again, uncertain.
Suddenly, as if recalled to himself, Arasmes straightens and, speaking now with a much more confident and reassuring voice, says: Forgive me. I am sorry for your loss. Professor Lorrimor was one of the finest men I knew, always an encouragement in my studies. I must admit, he flashes a winning smile, revealing that, underneath the damage and weariness, Arasmes was a handsome man, I have very little to offer, but if I can be of service in anyway during this sad time, please do not hesitate to ask. He bows slightly and then nods to the other men, before joining the small crowd of mourners.
When you all move to join the other mourners, they give you only the barest hint of acknowledgment. Slowly, they shuffle together, "pulling their wagons" so to speak. The rest of you are lumped together, the small band of outsiders.
Lorrimer's daughter, however, is much more receptive. She gracefully courtsies to Arasmes and Luka. She looks over to Evelyn and Alison as well as she speaks.
"Thank you. My name is Kendra Lorrimer. Thank all of you for coming. I had feared none of my father's friends and colleauges would join me to bid him farewell. And with things the way they are in town these days, not many of his neighbors have come to pay respects either."
Evelyn steps to the forefront
"kendra, your father was a dear colleauge, and about as close to a friend as I had, being here seems the least I could do. If there is anyhting you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Miss, I mean no offense, but I wonder if you know exactly how well respected your father was. I, for one, can't imagine not being here to see him off to the next life. And it would seem that others have travelled >nod towards the girls and Arasme< some distance to be here as well."
Evelyn steps to the forefront
"kendra, your father was a dear colleauge, and about as close to a friend as I had, being here seems the least I could do. If there is anyhting you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Miss. I greatly appreciate it.", she turns to Luka,"I had thought so as well, sirrah, but so far you are the only people of his acquaintance outside of Ravengro to show up."
She wipes her eyes."I'm sorry. It does my father no good to be bitter. What matters is that you are here now to pay your respects and I'm certain my father is pleased."
"Well, after we're done here, maybe we good share and meal. I'm sure the lot of us have any number of stories to cure your bitterness and bring a smile to your face."
As the group walks along the road, cluttering and shuffling noises attract the attention of the mourners towards the road behind them.
Finally, as the noise becomes clearer, a tall figure emerges from a low hill. The runner, as he reaches the top of the hill, sees the group and raises a hand, yelling out of breath: Hey! Wai... His sentence is cut short as his great axe, set loose from the raising of his arm, slips between his legs, sending him crashing loudly to the ground.
It takes a while for him to recollect his senses. He shakes his head and resumes his run towards you. As he approaches, you can discern the adolescent features of his otherwise powerful build. He is tall and broad, clad in an old armor, obviously made for someone with a wider build, over which sits a formerly white tabard, featuring a shining sword over a field of dark green shields.
As he reaches you and lifts his too big helmet, uncovering a youthful and handsome face crowned by steel black eyes and framed by two short straight braids of brown hair, he asks, with a loud voice that immediately drops to a whisper, as he realizes where he is: "I'M SORRY! IS this the funeral of Professor Lorrimer? I hope I'm not too late!"
You can see him blush violently as his eyes move from one person to the next.
Kendra nods.
"Yes, this is Petros Lorrimer's funeral. Thank you for coming, I believe you're just in time-"
As if to underscore her statement, the bells in the small temple further in the Restlands peel out three o'clock. It's time to lay the Professor to his earthly rest.
According to Ustalavic custom, the deceased's closest relatives lead the procession to his grave where the local priest of Pharasma waits to bless his journey to the Boneyard. The coffin is carried by close friends and colleagues or male relatives. None of the villagers have yet come forward to carry the good Professor's coffin- will any of you take the honor upon yourselves?
Arasmes, knowing local tradition, waits several moments for people to offer to carry Lorrimor's coffin. He seems hesitant to volunteer, perhaps it has something to do with his weak frame. But eventually, he sets his face and steps forward.
Trevor thanks the young girl, not knowing who she is though. He tries to make himself small, having made enough of a show already, but as some spots are left vacant, he steals himself.
The professor saved your life. Rafan is looking and you can't just let a man stand like this as he's put to rest!
He'll step forward.
Luka looks on with dismay as none of the villagers step forward to take a place at the side of the coffin to assist the professor on his final journey. Shaking his had, and giving some a hard look, he steps forward and takes a place with the two other newcomers.
The three strangers take up positions beside the casket, only to be joined by the stocky man from the knot of villagers, his young son trailing after. The four heave the good professor and his heavy casket up to shoulder height and follow Kendra along the gravel path through the Restlands. As you pass the mausoleums closest to the entrance on your left, the lad studies you through the corner of his eye with a mixture of curiosity and fear. From Luka and Alison, with their very pale skin and dark hair, to the unkempt scholar with the aura of strangeness Arasmes. Even Trevor and Evelyn elicit study: a lad barely older than the boy dressed in a bigger man's armor and a woman wearing men's clothes, of all things. Surely the Professor couldn't have asked for a stranger procession- at least, by Ravengro's standards.
Around the mausoleums, Kendra leads the procession down a left turn, a path named "The Dreamwake" by a small marker nearby. The path curves through the Restlands and the rows of carven headstones throughout the fenced in moorland.
As Kendra leads you on a right turn onto a path named "The Eversleep" you note a group of villagers standing to block the path not ten feet away. About a dozen rugged looking men with farm tools stand awaiting your procession. The elderly fellow in the lead, the tallest of the lot with a wiry build speaks up.
"That's far enough! We been talking, and we don't want Lorrimer 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!"
Even watching Ms. Lorrimer's back, you can tell she's already furious as soon as the man gets the words out. Her shoulders tense, her hands balled into fists around her handkerchief.
What are you talking about? I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been..."
"You don't get it, woman! We won't have a 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."
"Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?"
The man in front scowls, grip tightening on his pitchfork. Other men grip hoes and sickles, expressions darkening. This could rapidly get out of hand...
Alison steps forward and holds her hands out palms forward in a gesture of peace.
"Please my good sirs, this is a time for mourning and soberness for these good people. Would you disturb them at a time like this and risk the anger of those already interred here by spilling blood on this hallowed ground?" Alison asks playing up the Ustalavan superstitions surrounding graveyards.
Arasmes, still carrying the coffin, after hearing Alison's plea, speaks up:
"My friends, the young lady is right. This is a time for mourning, for ensuring that the dead depart gently and make their way to Pharasma's arms safely. Besides, the professor is one of your own. He's lived in this fine village for many years, choosing it for his home despite the number of fine academic institutions clamoring for his presence. As for the charges of necromancy, nothing could be more untrue. I suspect that there were many nights when the professor was all that was standing between some foul necromancer and the serenity of Ravengro. Now, my friends, I would suggest that you join our party and see the professor off to his just reward, or, barring that, that you find a better way to spend your evening, perhaps a drink at a local establishment?"
Though he's still holding up his side of the coffin, Arasmes tries to project warmth, concern, and respect for the men blocking their way. "I'm not sure if I can lift this coffin all night," he sighs, waiting to see which way the situation will turn.
Feeling a bit out of his league, Trevor is happy to let the others take the lead. He didn't know the professor much, but felt a strong bond to the man for what he unlocked in him.
Standing firm, he lets show his resolve in proceeding forward, in peace.
With his free hand, Luka simply pulls his cloak back, freeing access to his sword. "The others speak well, but I'll say this. I don't know your town, but I did know this man, and I dare say that he probably did more to keep you and your kin safe that any other among you. If his daughter wants him buried here, this is where it will be."
"This is our cemetery and our business! If you won't take him out, by Desna we will!"
Six of the townsfolk advance, farming implements at the ready. The leader of the group goes straight for Evelyn.
Farmer initiative:
Kendra:
The pudgy man in the procession blusters,"Hephenus! The sheriff will hear of this! Stop this madness at once!"
Kendra takes one step back, holding an amulet around her neck and muttering incantations.
Farmer saves:
Three immediately close their eyes, falling to the ground in snoring heaps. Hephenus, their leader, continues on his course as his remaining allies go for Kendra after her display of magic.
Attack vs. Evelyn (subdual):
Attacks vs. Kendra (subdual):
One of them broadsides her with the flat of a shovel. Lorrimer's daughter reels, but remains standing.
"May Pharasma curse your names" Alison yells as she draws her arm back before throwing one of her alchemists bombs behind the group attacking Kendra.
Initiative -
Throwing at the ground - vs DC5
Damage = 4pts for anyone caught in the splash
"I was hoping that we could avoid this sort of thing." Arasmes gently sets down the coffin.
As he gently puts the casket down, Trevor yells: "That ain't right!"
"No one needs to die here today, Luka says. Without putting down the coffin, he invokes an arcane phrase and makes a gesture with his free hand, causing an obscuring mist to rise.
Avoiding the leader's attack, Evelyn strikes back with the pommel of her sword, attempting to keep the fight from turning deadly.
"Stand down before I get really angry, and decide to use the sharp end."
Initiative
Luka- 19 (Obscuring Mist)
Trevor- 17 (Appeals for calm, puts down casket)
Kendra- 14 (Sleep)
Arasmes- 8 (Putting down coffin)
Alison- 6 (Bomb)
Evelyn- 6 (Dropping coffin?, attacking)
Farmers- 1 (Attack)
As the pallbearers lower the professor, Kendra incants a spell while gripping an amulet around her neck. Finishing up by blowing sand at the oncoming thugs, you watch as each falls snoring to the ground. Hephenus, their leader continues his advance along with two more alert thugs. Before they can reach Lorrimer's daughter, Alison tosses a flask of something into their midst. The bomb explodes, throwing chunks of earth and surprised farmers every which way. Many lay moaning on the ground, clutching broken limbs. Others just lay prostrate and silent.
Hephenus continues forward, lunging at Evelyn with his pitchfork. But she sidesteps his assault, hitting the back of his head with the pommel of her sword. He hits the ground like a sack of potatoes, out cold.
"Desna's grace!," exclaims the pudgy councilman in the procession (Hearthmount, you think his name was),"I knew there were some... concerns but I didn't think it would come to violence!
Before Trevor is done lowering the casket, the fight seems over. He looks quite amazed: "Wow! You guys mean business! I guess they got what they went looking for... Shall we proceed and get our friend in the comforting earth."
Looking down at Hephenus' motionless form, Evelyn, sheathes her sword.
"Well, he wont be causing trouble any time soon. Perhaps we can even arrange for some new quarters for him and his friends, the sheriffs place maybe?"
And maybe the sheriff can tell me what all this talk of necromancy is. Hopefully it's just some misguided idiot farmers, and nothing serious
Arasmes glances over at Trevor. "Indeed, let's see our friend off into the next world." Arasmes grunts as he shoulders the coffin once again, the strain evident on his face.
"Uh, you guys go ahead, I'll catch up in a minute, I just want to make sure these people are okay, I don't need them on my conscience" Alison says as she walks over to the farmers and starts looking to see who has been severely injured by her bomb.
Looking down at Hephenus' motionless form, Evelyn, sheathes her sword.
"Well, he wont be causing trouble any time soon. Perhaps we can even arrange for some new quarters for him and his friends, the sheriffs place maybe?"
And maybe the sheriff can tell me what all this talk of necromancy is. Hopefully it's just some misguided idiot farmers, and nothing serious
As the crowd disperses, leaving the wounded and unconscious, you can see a tall old man dressed in black running toward you from the other end of the Dreamwake, two stout gravediggers behind him.
Councillor Hearthmount clears his throat.
"Well, I should think the sound thrashing you have dealt them would be punishment enough.", he begins, before adding,"If you wish to press charges, however, I can speak to the sheriff when the funeral is over. Though I can attest that all of these farmhands are men of low character, I had never thought they would be so disrespectful!"
The other well-dressed mourner nods.
"Aye, truly foul. A disgrace to Pharasma and Ravengro alike."
Alison and Kendra take a look at the wounded- Hephenus is out cold, but he'll have nothing more serious than a welt on the back of his head come tomorrow. The other five are all rather wounded by the bomb with bloody and burnt limbs. They crawl away from you as quickly as they can, fear and shame replacing the anger they felt a moment prior.
The tall old man reaches your group finally. He's tall and thin with a bald head, clean shaven face and bushy eyebrows. His ears and nose are comically large, but his severe expression dries out any humor you may have felt at his appearance. Around his neck is the spiral symbol of Pharasma, a leather bound book and flask of holy water gripped in his left hand.
"What is the meaning of this?!", he demands.
"These men sought to bar our passage to my father's plot, Father Grimburrow.", explains Kendra. The councillor nods as the priest takes in the scene with his hard eyes.
"Gather close.", sighs the priest speaking to the chagrined thugs,"Much as you should suffer for your foolishness and lack of respect, you will not leave this place wounded."
Gripping his holy amulet, Father Grimburrow intones a chant in Varisian to Pharasma, waves of cold energy emanating from him. The thugs' wounds knit before your eyes and the priest sends them off with a glare. Hephenus is the last to leave, slinking off with a glare at Evelyn.
"I'm so sorry for all this,"says Kendra,"thank you for stepping in on my behalf. I wish they had listened to your appeals for peace, but I can't say I regret seeing them put in their place after what they said about father."
Father Grimburrow holds his holy book over his chest.
"Shall we proceed, my child?", he asks evenly.
Kendra nods and the procession resumes.
Coffin shouldered securely, you finish the procession to Professor Lorrimer's newly dug grave. You lower the casket reverentially into the earth, Kendra and Father Grimburrow standing near the headstone. The other mourners bow their heads in prayer as the Father begins his short sermon. The gravediggers keep a respectful distance, shovels lowered tip first to the ground.
"Today we lay to rest the noble Professor Petros Lorrimer, teacher, arcanist and archaeologist. His struggles against the shadows that plague Ustalav and other places near and far as well as his work to catalogue such challenges for future generations remain an enduring legacy to his bravery and spirit. Let us commend him to the Lady of Graves, that she might remember how often he placed himself in peril doing Her work."
Father Grimburrow splashes the casket with holy water once.
"She was with you, Petros Lorrimer, in the waters of birth."
He splashes the casket again.
"She tuned the strands of Fate that made up your life, for better and worse."
He splashes the coffin a third and final time.
"And finally you will come to her and she will know you from her throne in the Boneyard. Speed you thus, Petros Lorrimer, and fear not her judgement."
The Father bows his head for a moment of silence following his benediction. A whippoorwill trills from a nearby branch and the superstitious trace a spiral on their chest with one finger.
Grimburrow nods, ending the silence.
"Ms. Lorrimer, would you like to say a few words about your father?"
Kendra nods, her chin quivering.
"My father...", she begins before a sob caught in her throat threatens to break out. Gripping her handkerchief, she continues.
"My father always sought to bring light and understanding to every corner of the world. He made friends far and wide, regardless of race, society or religion and his students number among the wisest of learned men. While he loved his teaching, he often took a more active role, protecting the innocent not only from ignorance but also from more sinister threats as well. His aid proved instrumental when the people of Carrion Hill were beset by a creature of foul magic of the Dark Tapestry and the cult that summoned it. When the church of Abadar's vault was breached and ancient swords of power were taken up for foul purpose, my father and his allies ventured to lawless Kaer Maga to retrieve them. He was a man of peace, but when courage was required, he did not have it in short supply even into his old age. But I will always remember him first as a loving and devoted father."
Kendra pauses, dabbing her red and puffy eyes.
"Thank you all again for coming. I am sure he would be pleased to see each of you here now."
The professor's daughter is quiet and a hush falls over the gathered mourners.
Evelyn slowly steps forward
"The professor was the bravest man i've known. We've faced many strange creatures together, traveled unknown paths, and never did he back down. But I will always remember him for giving me a chance. He hired me when no one else would, saw something in me, that no one else could, and for that I will always remember him."
Evelyn pauses for a moment, before turning to look at kendra
Though your father always paid well for my services, the debt of kindness and friendship is one that is never fully repaid. I will be staying awhile longer, and will be available day or night should you need anything"
Trevor looks in awe at Evelyn. Wow, strong words, and strong stance. She's courageous... And look at me! I should say something about professor Lorrimer, but what am I going to say? What if I freeze up there, in front of everybody? Maybe it's just better for me to sit here some more, see if someone else will go up. If someone else goes, then I'll go\
Alison bowed her head, taking a moment to smooth out her coat before she answered.
"I'm... well I'm not one for somber speeches but I'd like to say that the professor helped me during a dark time. Without his help I might not even still be here, I'm sorry for his loss and the world is a little darker for his loss." Alison said in a quiet voice.
Luka steps up next, and with a glance at Kendra, he begins. "I've probably know the professor longer than any of you, and have spent many late nights with him discussing all manner of things, from the most obscure of his studies, to his adventures and travels across the world. Surely he will be missed, just as surely as his influence will continue to ripple across the lands, bringing light to people's lives, and improving their lots." After a pause, he adds, "He was a good man, among the best of man, and will be missed."
Arasmes draws himself up to his full height and begins to speak:
"I'm sure that the professor thought of me, if he ever thought of me at all, as a waste. He probably knew students like me in every institution that he called home: talented, but directionless. I knew him when he was teaching, briefly, in Cassomir. He offered me encouragement, suggested some books I should read, chatted with me about my studies before and after lectures, but I . . . was more interested in other matters.
I will say this: If anyone could have turned me away from what happened, it was the professor. He was a kind man, who tried earnestly to help me become a better person. It wasn't his fault that I was too stupid to listen.
I had hoped that he could help me . . . but, no matter. The world's loss is greater than mine. He was a fine teacher, and a truly good man. I am sure he will be missed."
After many hesitations, where one would rise and he would think: Ok, maybe after him., Trevor finally rises from his bench.
A long silence seems to extend itself, wrapping around his neck, preventing the words from flowing. He seems to watch with horror his own self caught at the throat by a cold, skeletal hand.
He focuses, evening his breathing, and conjures an image of his former friend: Rafan...
Fear eases, and he speaks: "I haven't known the professor for a long time, but it was perhaps the most important time for me. He might say I saved his life, but I can now say with conviction that he also saved mine, by showing me who I am, and who I can be..."
"I wish I had the chance to learn more from him, but he gave me the single most important lesson he could. And for that, I am grateful, and forever in his debt."
As he sits, he thinks to himself: Boy! I hope I didn't make a fool of myself...
When Trevor finishes his speech, there is some quiet applause from Kendra and the other mourners. Even the dour Father Grimburrow seems to approve.
Leaving the gravediggers to ply their trade, you walk with the rest of the mourners from Professor Lorrimer's grave. As is local custom, you walk in silence until you exit the Restlands, not looking back. Kendra walks tall and though she isn't exactly skipping, it does seem that she takes comfort from your presence.
Outside the stone walls of the Restlands, Kendra turns to the assembled mourners.
"Thank you all one last time for joining me."
The stocky man with the mustache (who held the professor's coffin with you) and his son approach Kendra and take her hands.
"Your father was a fine man, miss, and it was my privilege to serve him while he was here.", he says.
Kendra nods, managing a small smile,"Thank you, Mr. Elkarid. And you too, Pevrin. Father always spoke so highly of your cooking."
The man forces a genial expression,"Now, now, Miss Lorrimer, you and your young friends should call me Zokar. When you're ready for a good meal and some spirits, you be sure to come by the Laughing Demon."
With a nod, the tavernkeeper and his young son depart south on the road back into town.
The other woman in the procession bids her farewell to Kendra as well.
"Should you need anything at all, Kendra, don't hesitate to stop by my shop. I have a number of excellent remedies to aid your sleeping or calm your nerves while you sort out your dear father's affairs."
"Thank you, Jominda, I will be sure to stop by."
Finally the two councillors, short and round Hearthmount and the tall Councillor Muricar offer their own condolences.
"My dear, please don't hesitate to drop by should you require any sort of attention.", says Muricar,"I'm known around these parts for my open-door policy, after all."
Hearthmount nudges the other councillor in the ribs, giving his friend a disapproving glance.
"What Gharen means, Miss Lorrimer, is that we are ever at your disposal. I have a few matters to finalize in town but I will be sure to stop by your father's home to read the will shortly."
Kendra nods.
"That will be fine, Councillor. We will see you soon."
And with that, the six of you are alone.
"It was wonderful of you all to speak for my father. Please, let us return to his home so we can speak in private and have a drink before Councillor Hearthmount reads my father's will. You've all come so far, I'm sure you could use a rest."
Kendra leads you down the dirt road back toward town, passing fields and farms just ready for harvest as the moors grow more fertile. The road curves into town gradually as buildings start to cluster closer together the further you get from the Restlands. The professor's daughter leads you across a wooden bridge over a river running through town, past a wooden post covered in notices. On your left you pass a building with children clustered outside, jumping rope and playing tag. A shingle on the house says The Unfurling Scroll. The children stop playing as you pass, watching the small cluster of strangers with curiosity.
Further south, you pass into what must be the town square centered around a large wooden gazebo where a shaggy dog lazily sleeps beneath the steps.. People mill about at the various shops, finishing up some business: while they glance at you, their expressions are stonier than the childrens'. Going clockwise around the square are: Ravengro general store, The Outward Inn, the large Ravengro town hall, The Silk Purse, Ravengro forge (where a female dwarf with greying hair labors over the anvil, her wares set out on wooden tables before the open shop), Jominda's Apothecary and the Ravengro jail. Kendra leads you further south through the square, where the road is lined with simple wood and stone residences.
Just before another bridge over a tributary, Kendra takes a right turn toward a simple two story home and produces a key.
"This is father's home here in Ravengro. I cleaned up a bit before the funeral, but it's mostly as he left it. Father's strong suit was scholarship, not housework."
The wooden door creaks open into a foyer where you can leave your cloaks, heavy weapons and packs. Further into the home, the walls are lined with shelf after shelf of books. Just about exactly the kind of home you pictured for your departed friend. Kendra lights a lantern against the creeping twilight and busies herself starting a fire in the study/sitting room. She gestures to the couches and armchairs arranged around a low table.
"Please, have a seat. I'll bring some drinks in a moment. I believe my father had some brandy and some wine stored. I also had some milk and cider delivered from the general store. Are you hungry? I'm not much of a cook but we have a few simple things I can unpack for you..."
Arasmes spends a few moments casually inspecting the books around the study, looking for tomes that might be relevant to his situation, but not expecting to find anything. After a moment, he turns to the gathered party:
"Not to be terribly rude, but who are you people? I expected to find a collection of scholars and students, maybe an old wizard or two, at the professor's funeral, not . . . well . . . you all. I means, you," Arasmes gestures towards Evelyn, "took that blowhard apart today, and then you," Arasmes turns to Alison, "Well, Miss, I'm not quite sure what you did to those thugs. When I knew the professor, he was just a scholar, a fine lecturer, a kind man, but now I hear all this about Carrion Hill and Kaer Maga, and see you folks, and I see that there was an entire other side to the professor, and I wonder what I am doing here with you all."
Relevant rolls for browsing the racks, if necessary
Knowledge: Arcana:
Knowledge: Planes:
Knowledge: History:
Knowledge: Religion:
Arasmes looks through the assembled library. They're all tomes on history, art, culture, the planes, the gods- a wide variety of topics. While quite a few are rare and valuable, at a glance you're hard pressed to find anything that wasn't at the university in Cassomir in one form or another.
"Me?" Alison pauses for a moment "Well, I'm an alchemist and an apothecary, all that I did was mix a quick solution of an extremely reactive alkali metal and some distilled water and then threw it amongst the men to break their group apart. I didn't mean to hurt them as much as I did".
Trevor does his best to remain small as they walk the streets of Ravengro. How often has he stumbled into a merchant's stall while he was looking up at the front of buildings instead of where he was walking...
He mostly concentrated on remaining concentrated as they walked. So when they got to the building, he had just caught on a few things, really.
So that's his daughter. I didn't think he would have one. Don't know why not, though!
Walking inside, he felt he needed to concentrate even more, but luckily he could remove his pack and weapons at the door. He walked forth, fascinated by the sheer amount of knowledge on the shelves. "Do you think he read all of it? I'm not sure it can be done..."
When he has a chance, he'll approach Kendra: "Lady, your father has done a lot for me in a very short time. Please know how sorry I am for your loss, and that you can count on my arm to protect you and your loved... Now sorry if it sounds rude, but I didn't quite catch how he died. I hope it was nothing bad."
To Arasmes' question: "I'm Trevor, from the town of Redleaf, in the East. I've met the professor in the woods of the area. We had very little time together, but very meaningful for both I would say."
Kendra looks up from lighting the fireplace.
"Thank you, though I certainly hope I won't be needing any sort of protection."
She rises, smoothing out her dress.
"My father... was found dead on the grounds of Harrowstone, the old prison south of Ravengro. The ruin has long been considered haunted, which may have aroused my father's curiosity. He... he was found crushed by a fallen gargoyle from the roof. The more ignorant locals had always been suspicious of father and I suppose finding him there was enough for them to confirm their suspicions and decide he was a necromancer."