Uneasy Lie the Dead (Inactive)

Game Master Irnk, Dead-Eye's Prodigal

From the whispering shadows of haunted Ustalav an ancient evil rises to grip the world in a new age of horror!


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”Ravengro!” the coachman bellows out, the first words he’s spoken in a while, as the carriage rattles to a stop. As you emerge from the coach you blink your eyes several times as they become accustomed to the late afternoon light although the low grey clouds scudding by portend the threat of rain.

As the driver lowers your belongings to you, you look around the town square. A quaint, simple gazebo with an old hound dog lounging on the steps stands in the center of the square. With a nod of his head the driver climbs back up into his seat and with a flick of the reins the coach continues on its journey leaving you standing there, alone. As your eyes sweep around the square you notice several of the local passersby’s eye you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion before they avert their gaze.

As you pick up your belongings you check your pocket for the letter. Although it only reached you over a week ago its contents still bring a shock to you this day. Written in a feminine hand, by one Kendra Lorrimor, it requests your presence for the funeral and reading of the will of the late Professor Petros Lorrimor. As the initial shock of the Professor’s death sunk in you remembered the profound impact the man made on your life. Dropping everything you hastened to hire a coach and travel to the town of Ravengro.

Due to conditions beyond your control you have arrived in the village with little over an hour to spare before the start of the internment. Now all you need to do is find the Professor’s house and offer your condolences before the start of the funeral procession.


Map of Ravengro

Legend:

A= Town Square
B= The Posting Poles
C= The Laughing Demon (Tavern)
D= Ravengro Town Hall
E= Temple of Pharasma
F= Ravengro Town Hall
G= Ravengro Forge
H= Jominda's Apothecary
I= Ravengro Jail
J= The Silk Purse (Moneylenders)
K= The Outward Inn (Inn)
L= The Unfurling Scroll (Magic)
M1= Councilman Vashian Hearthman House
M2= Councilwoman Mirta Straelock Residence
M3= Councilwoman Shanda Faravan House
M4= Councilman Gharen Muricar House
N= The Lorrimor Residence
O= Harrowstone Memorial
P= Road to The Restlands
Q= Gibbs Hephenus' Shack
R= Road to Harrowstone


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

The young redhead nearly jumps off the coach and looks all around with bright eyes, all full of vitality.
Then she reminds why she's there and tries to regain some calm and composure. Nevertheless, she still looks around with an avid curiosity.

Hey, Coachman, do you know this town, Ravengro? I'm looking for the house of Doctor Lorrimor. Or do you know a place when someone can tell me where to find the good doctor's house?

She smiles at the coachman

What a ride it has been....a bit long. But never dull, I hope.


"Never heard of 'em. Ask around." is the man's curt reply, perhaps the longest conversation he's engaged in for the entire trip.
Looking around the square you notice several of the townspeople watching you warily as you pick up your belongings from the street.


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Professor Rokannon stepped down off of the creaking coach and stretched his road weary muscles. He was glad to get off of that gods-cursed overcrowded coach and be done with travelling on miserable roads in miserable weather. His academic robes were not the most practical perhaps, but he didn't anticipate the gruelling nature of the trip.

Almost smiling he turns to thank the driver, only to be met with his trunk, then his case, then his bag being dumped off by the coachman with unseemly haste. By scrambling he managed to rescue his case and bag from the mud, but his trunk landed hard. He winced a little at the rough treatment, but he was still glad it was over and done with now.

After dragging his luggage over by the gazeebo (and out of the mud), he took the time to pull his pipe out, load it and light it with a bit of flame from one finger, and puff on it with some contentment.

He suddenly overhears one of the others who disembarked asking about "...house of Doctor Lorrimor." Looking over, he sees it is the young redhaired woman he shared the last part of the journey with.
Suddenly he realized that time was getting short. He pulled out the letter he had received, then approached the woman...


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Her traveling companions were silent during most of the trip, and Tamarie used this opportunity to sleep a little. Somehow the rocking of the carriage didn't hamper it, on the contrary. It was a low sleep, but it felt good to rest.

Upon arriving Tamarie pulls her hood over her head, as has sadly become a custom in these parts. She is always baffled that something as simple as the sharpness of her eyesight or the shape of her eyes could make people respond differently, but her experiences only confirm this.

"Care for a hand?" Tamarie says, when she sees the grey-haired man dragging with the big trunk. "If memory serves, those things are lighter when there's two carrying it."

Since I've worked with him repeatedly, can I assume I know where his house is?


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

Overhearing the girl's speech,Vivian lets a small chuckle escape from her lips

You're talking about this gentleman's ..trunk, of course? It's a good sized trunk, it seems. You should get an handful.
*Laughs*
Sorry for the bad joke, I really don't like the event that is waiting for me today, so I had to loose off some steam after that long journey. Are you from the town yourselves?

The slender green eyed girl- barely a woman- still looks around, hoping maybe to see someone who could help her, or who could be waiting for her. She's pretty, if not beautiful, and her clothes are casual.She wears a small metal chain around her neck, the end of it being hidden by her loose shirt. She takes her backpack and throws it on her shoulders, revealing a sheated dagger stuck in her belt in the move.

I'm looking for the house of Doctor Lorrimor. Does that name rings a bell for you? Speaking of names, mine is Vivian, Vivian Deberth.

She offers a kind smile, sparkling eyes and an extended hand to whoever wants to seize it


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

Cassandra steps down from the carriage and blinks her mismatched eyes at the sudden change in light from the dark interior of the coach. She collects her backpack, with it's meager belongings, from the coachman before donning a pair of smoked glasses despite the afternoon gloom.
Looking around the square she notices the villagers eyeing the group of new arrivals "Looks like we are the center of attention. Maybe one of the locals will be able to point us the good Professor's house" she says to no one in particular.
Running her fingers through her raven hair and smoothing her homespun dress Cassandra will approach the nearest villager.


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

The coach seems to creak with relief as the hulking half-orc, clad in a black overcoat trimmed in crimson, descends behind the rest of the passengers.
Sitting silent and uncomfortably cramped for most of the journey, he's glad to have arrived in Ravengro even if he's dejected by the nature of his visit.
He stretches briefly, working out the stiffness in his joints from the long ride, and retrieves his backpack and greataxe from the driver before glancing around the town square.
Seeing his elderly traveling companion wrestling with his luggage, and chuckling slightly to himself that someone would travel with more than they could easily carry, he strides over to the gazebo to help, ignoring the burning stares of the villagers.
"Need help?" he asks. It's the first any of the group has heard him speak and even this friendly offer of assistance sounds surprisingly gruff and intimidating.
"I'm Davor, by the way," he says as he easily hoists the trunk onto the deck of the gazebo and out of the mud.
Conversation is clearly not his strong suit.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Tamarie will answer Cassandra's proposition.

"I fear I don't know the location of his house, although I have had my share of experiences with the professor. I should warn you though, these people don't look too kindly on 'strangers'.. I should know.. And I'm not even that obvious. Perhaps it's best for the professor here to ask for directions?"

She looks at everyone gathering around, and answers Vivian.

"My name is Tamarie, pleasure to meet you. I'm glad you have allowed me the chance to entertain you.
Next time you can entertain me!"
she says smilingly, and winks suggestively.


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

Well, I like to sing, if that can be of any help...But it's not the place or the time for merriment, i'm afraid.
I'm here for the Professor Lorrimor's burial, and it's a sad day for me and my family. In fact, it's my mother who knew him more than me, but she couldn't be here and so send me to "represent" the Delberth family. By your words, Tamarie,I guess you're here for the same reason.

*turns to watch the solid half orc snatching the luggage out of the mud*
Nice to meet you, Davor Bytheway. Thank you for your kind help.

Vivian's look doesn't flich when she watches Davor, and her face shows nothing but kindness and sympathy.

Now, I'm sure I can find someone here who could give us the direction of Professor Lorrimor's house. And we should cease to be strangers to each other by the time we reach his house.

Spoiler:
if no one stops her then, Vivian will go to the nearest villager and ask him the location of Lorrimor's house

Diplomacy roll (if needed)1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Tamarie won't stop Vivian, and will observe her well as she makes her way through/to the crowd.


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

"Yell if they give you any trouble," Davor tells Vivian as she heads over to ask directions.
He's glad to have someone else outgoing enough to gather the information he also needs and spare him the trouble of interacting with the Ravengro natives. The villagers, he figures, will be suspicious enough of any of the new arrivals and his unmistakable halfblood heritage would do little to ease their acceptance.
"You all knew Lorrimor too?" he asks the others, inattentively crumpling the letter in his pocket requesting his presence at the funeral as he tries to push the grief over the professor's death from his mind.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

"Yes," she says, and turns around to scrap her throat. She will take some steps towards the edge of the gazebo, and speak of it no more.


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Approaching, Professor Rokannon addresses the passengers.
"I beg your pardon, ladies, I couldn't help but overhear. Are we all here to attend the funeral of Professor Lorrimor?"
At Davor picking up his trunk out of the mud he is taken aback.
Good lord that barbarian is huge! Oddly well dressed though...
"Ah, yes, of course. My thanks, Master... Davor is it?"


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

"My pleasure, and yes, it's Davor. Davor Wolfriel, actually. Nice to meet you..." he waits for the elderly gentleman to introduce himself.

The combination of the lengthy trip and discomfort over being the center of attention and undoubtedly the target of a few racist whispers among the villagers cause Davor to fidget with his backpack and shift the position of the greataxe on his back. As he does, the spiral-shaped pendant on his necklace spills out over the front of his coat, unnoticed by the half-orc.


Cassandra and Vivian, as you approach one of the locals, a woman with two small children, she pushes the children behind her as she eyes you warily. The young children clutch their mother's skirt as they looks at you with a mixture of awe and wonder.
The young mother gives you directions toward the Lorrimor residence and with a quick turn begins to leave, shooing her children ahead of her.

As the five of you travel down the street towards the late Professor's house you draw stares from the townsfolk you pass. Arriving at the address the young woman from the square indicated, you approach the door and offer a discrete knock.
The door opens to reveal a woman in her mid-twenties dressed in dark mourning clothes, her hair pulled back in a bun with a veil attached.
As you look closer you can see that her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, as if from crying.
Kendra Lorrimor
"Hello?" she says in a hesitant voice until a flash of understanding crosses her face "Oh, you must be the friends of father I wrote to? I was beginning to think that my letters never found you." She steps back from the doorway and ushers you in "Forgive me, I'm Kendra Lorrimor, the Professor's daughter. Please come in. It wouldn't do to have you standing around my doorstep so that people could talk. They will talk all the same, but let's not give them any more reason that they should." she says with a wan smile.


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

Cassandra sets down her pack and takes the young woman's hand in hers "My condolences, Mistress Lorrimor. You father was a great man and one I'm proud to call a friend. If there's anything I can do please don't hesitate to ask." she says before retrieving her pack and entering the house.


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Professor Rokannon bows deeply before the young woman, hoping she didn't recognize one of her fathers foremost critics.
"I am Professor Rokannon, a... colleague of your fathers. My deepest condolences. I hope that you can call upon me for whatever aid I can provide."

After greeting his hostess, he will go and (with difficulty) fetch the rest of his luggage.


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

Well... I'm real sorry for your loss, Kendra. I will pray Pharasma with all my soul so she can guide him in the Boneyards Garden and let him rest undisturbed.

Says the lithe redhead, who looks calm and wise for the first time.

I am Vivian Deberth, daughter of Elisa Deberth, whom you send the letter to. She was the one who knew your father most, but she had to stay and serve at the temple of Pharasma where she's a priest, and where we both live.
So she send me to represent our family and assure you of our sympathy and gives you our condolences in these sad times.
I only encountered your father once, when I was maybe 8 or 9 years old, so i have vague, dim memories about him. But I remember well that he helped me.
I can only hope I'll be able to help you now and give you any kind of assistance you may need.

Vivian takes a step to the side, to let the rest of the company in. She takes a quick glance beyond the door, trying to see if anyone are really watching them.

Perception roll 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

"He was a good man. I'm certain Pharasma will bless his passage. Davor Wolfriel at your service, Ms. Lorrimor." Davor says, bowing to the professor's daughter.

"You really should just ask for my help with your luggage instead of straining yourself first," Davor tells Rokannon as he reaches to assist him. "You're liable to twist your back or something wrestling with that big trunk. Besides, I don't bite. Well, usually at least."

As before, it takes little visible effort on the half-orc's part to move Professor Rokannon's belongings. Davor lacks the social graces to comprehend that his help may be unwanted. He re-enters the house just in time to hear most of Vivian's introduction.

"A priestess of Pharasma? What a coincidence! Which temple" he asks Vivian as he sets down Rokannon's trunk, his interest piqued by the mention of another of his faith.


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

I am from Karcau, in Ustalav, where there is a bunch of faithful. And I did see you follow Pharasma's guidance like me, even if i'm no priest myself, unlike my mother..

With a smile and a wink to Davor, Vivian gets her own spiral-shaped pendant out of her shirt.

But lets give some time to our coach fellows to present their respects to Miss Lorrimor, we'll surely have plenty to say to each other


Somewhat overwhelmed by the words of condolences Kendra manages to stammer "Th, Thank you. You are too kind." Escorting you into the sitting room, Kendra offers you some refreshments laid out upon the table "Please help yourselves. You must be hungry from your journey. I will go put a kettle on, after all we have some time before we have to meet the others at the Restlands."

After eating some of the sandwiches laid out and imbibing some tea, or any of the harder liquors on the sideboard, Kendra grabs a black lace shawl and wraps it around her shoulders "I believe it is time to go now. It wouldn't do to keep Father Grimburrow and the others waiting." so saying she lowers her veil over her face and leads you to the door.

As you follow her back through town, your procession draws stares of wonderment from the people you pass on the street. Kendra leads you through the streets to the north road leading out of town. A short distance later you come to the local cemetery, known as the Restlands. As you approach one of the gates Kendra traces a small spiral over her heart and looks for the rest of you to follow suit. Waiting at the gate are a handful of people, three men, one woman, and a teenage boy arranged around a fine walnut and bronze casket.

Kendra introduces you to the other mourners, Councilmen Vashian Hearthmount and Gharen Muricar, Zokar Elkarid, the local tavernkeeper, and his son Pevrin, and Jominda Fallenbridge, the town’s apothecary. With a look at Councilman Hearthmount Kendra announces ”These are the friends of father that we’ve been waiting for.” With a curt nod of his head in acknowledgement the councilman and the other local men position themselves around the casket while Kendra takes up position in front of the procession while Jominda and Pevrin fall in behind the casket. All eyes turn to you as Kendra explains ”Traditionally the friends of the deceased carry the body to the gravesite where the priest is waiting to conduct the funeral rites.”

There are handholds for six people to carry the casket, although only four are actually needed. With the three men waiting to lift the casket at least one of you will have to ‘volunteer’ to help carry the Professor to his final resting place.


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

"It would be an honor," Davor replies as softly as he can manage. "Unless anyone objects."

He naturally assumes he should be the member of the group to help bear the casket, although with its weight shared amongst three others the task could easily be managed by any of the others.

If no one voices opposition, Davor makes a spiraling gesture with his finger in front of his chest and solemnly takes the fourth handhold.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Sorry, Tamarie's condolences were swallowed by the forum, and I guess not it's too late?

Tamarie will be solemn and quiet, even though it goes against her very being.
As she approaches the gates she copies the tracing of the traditionala small spiral over her heart, and steps in to be the fifth one to help carry the heavy casket.

"I have always counted myself among the professor's friends, and would consider it an honour to aid him one final time, onto one last journey into the afterlife. The way I know him, he'll be taking notes all the way there..."

She bends her head, and will do her utmost best to carry the weight, and follow the pacing of the other bearers.


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Professor Rokannon will approach the gate and copy the others in tracing the spiral.
"Oh, yes of course." He answered.
Hesitant, he will nontheless approach the casket and take the sixth place (unless someone stronger takes it).


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

Cassandra will fall in line behind the other mourners, waiting for the procession to start. She will look around before asking Jominda Fallenbridge in a low voice "Is this all there is? I expected someone like the Professor would have a greater turnout."


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

With a kind, warm smile, Vivian offers her arm to Kendra, in case she need some emotional support.
The young redhead looks calm and solemn, but hearing the smart remark of Cassandra, she whispers to the Professor's daughter

I guess not much of the people here understood your father's work. I can't even say i understand it myself, honestly.Fear of the unknown is a very common thing... sometimes it helps people survive, preventing them doing fatal mistakes, sometimes it clouds their judgment and close their hearts to the pain of their fellows. Only Pharasma can judge any of us truly, without fear, anger or misconceptions. But she is a goddess, and we are all mere mortals.

While she passes through the cemetary's gate, Vivian's fingers trace the holy spiral over her heart while she thinks

*Yet another burial... How many did i've seen so far? Too much, i guess, way too much for a girl of my age. Reminds me of my own father's burial, even if I was so young...Oh, mother, where art thou? I'd so like having you by my side right now. You're way better than me telling soothing words to those who mourn their loved ones...I'm just your favorite good willed troubleseeker, as you always say!*

A tear crosses her cheek.


Knowledge (local) or Intelligence check DC:10:

Family members traditionally lead the funeral procession to the gravesite followed by the casket and pallbearers and finally the other mourners bring up the rear.
While it is not unheard of for a woman to act as a pallbearer it is generally left to the male family members or friends of the deceased to act in that capacity.


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

Intelligence check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Intelligence: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Knowledge local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Tamarie knows, but unless there is a male family member ready to fill my spot, she *will* make sure that there are six bearers. She held the man in high regards, nothing less than six bearers will be sufficient.


Since the Professor spoke first, he and Davor round out the pallbearers. The others can follow behind the casket with Cassandra.

The Restlands
You enter the graveyard at the entrance marked by the A, you are traveling to the grave site shown by the red X.

As the procession begins with Kendra stoically in the lead the only sound heard is that of your feet along the gravel path known as The Dreamwake. As the funeral march reaches a turn where the Dreamwake merges with The Eversleep the silence is shattered by Kendra's shrill shriek "Gibs Hephenus, what is the meaning of this?"

Looking up you notice an elderly man standing in the middle of the path, his arms folded across his chest. A network of white scars across his forearms indicate that he was no stranger to fighting in his youth. Behind him a group of locals, about a dozen in all, stand across the pathway, barring further entrance into the graveyard.

As the old man spits on the ground and begins to speak, you notice that about half of the mob is armed, although with a mix of farm implements (rakes, hoes, sickles, pitchforks, hammers, and the like), “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!” the old man snarls.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

"If you want to stop this funeral, you'd best be prepared to lay down your own life for doing it. This man was a CLOSE...PERSONAL...FRIEND... of me and my kinsmen, and will be regarded as such."

Tamarie will draw her bow, and aim it square at the man that was just talking (Gibs?) to lend strength to her threat.

"And I'll be sure to have YOUR corpse skinned and thrown in the river, so you spirit will have no rest! And believe me, I know how to work my weapons."


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Gritting his teeth, Professor Rokannon says; "If we... are not going... to move forward... can we set... him down? He is... heavier than I remember..."

Speaking as one who's been a pallbearer, those caskets are heavy...


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

"Who do you think you are to interrupt a funeral? Get out of the way!" Davor snarls back at the townie.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

Seeing the distress on Kendra's face, Cassandra can no longer hold her tongue. Stepping between the mob's leader and Tamarie she will plead with the townsfolk to let them be before blood is shed "Gentlemen, please! Can you not see the pain you are causing Mistress Lorrimor. The young lady only wishes to inter her father in holy ground as the Lady Pharasma would have it. This is not the time nor the place to air your grievances. Please let us pass."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

As he staggers under the increased weight when Tamarie let go, Professor Rokannon says; "Set it down, set it down, set it down quick..." through gritted teeth.


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

The voice of Vivian rise, calm and even, over the shouts and threats. She advances, placing herself volontary in Tamarie’s shooting angle
From the womb to the tomb, as my mother use to say in the temple of Pharasma in which she still serve, to this day, as a priest. That means that like all servants of the Lady of the Graves, she is required to help people at the beginning and at the end of their lives.
Which reminds me of a legend she used to tell me, the legend of Dorian Qwell. As we are here to bury the loved and respected Professor Lorrimor, and not around a fire in a confy house, I’ll resume it to you :
Dorian’s wife was in the last days of her pregnancy, hopefully with their long awaited first son. But Dorian’s own father was dying at the same time. When Dorian’s father died, his son thought i had not time to waste wth a proper burial, and gave him a quick, shallow grave in the woods, not respecting the rites. His father’s body was torn apart by wolves in the same night, and his soul wasn’t allowed to rest in the Boneyard Gardens.
So when Dorian’s wife gave birth, Pharasma took the soul of the child instead, and the baby was stillborn. Dorian asked for atonement, but it was too late for his son, and his wife barred him from their bed for a long time.
Maybe it’s just a spooky legend.
Maybe it just reflects the fact that the priests and faithful of Pharasma are not only here to ensure proper burial of the deceased, but to help your wives, your daughters, your sisters to deliver their child in the best conditions. And to refuse Pharasma to rightfully collect a soul may come at a risk. The risk is that Pharasma orders her servants not to help you in your own times of need, be it birth or death.
It took a very brave soul to defy a god’s will and edict, especially at the threshold of the god’s kingdom, in front of the god’s servants and faithful.

She shows her spiral holy symbol that mark her as a follower of Pharasma
Some could say it’s not only brave, it’s pure foolishness.
Are you willing to take the risk ? Are you willing, tonight, to maybe bring doom on your own loved ones ? Or will you gently step aside, so we can proceed to the burial of a kind man?
No harm has been done yet. Just a bunch of hard words, which stinged the worried minds of a caring daughter and the deceased’s friends, some of them all too ready to defend his honor, most of them battle hardened veterans.
If you are willing to step aside, i’ll offer you the way to atone your misdeeds, and you can count on my help, the help of Vivian Deberth, daughter of Elisa Deberth from the temple of Karcau, in your hour of need.

She bows with a smile


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

Spoiler:
Diplomacy roll 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21 (or Bluff roll, as i got the same bonus and the "legend" stuff was made on the spot)


As the situation teeters on a knifes edge, Tamarie draws her bow and points it at Gibbs, drawing shocked gasps from all assembled. Her show of force followed by Davor's growled threats seem to galvanize the crowd of protestors as several of them begin to surge forward, holding their makeshift weapons at the ready intent to club the strangers down. As the mob approaches, Gibbs manages to slip behind the crowd as the remaining villagers urge the toughs on.
If not for the intervention of Cassandra and Vivian the situation could soon escalate out of control. Thankfully the pleas of the two women manage to shame and chagrin the men enough that they abandon their plans for mayhem that they soon begin to disperse. Gibbs, seeing that he's lost the initiative in the situation shoots Tamarie a venomous glare before departing with the rest of the townsfolk.
The assembled mourners release a sigh of relief that no one seemed to realize they were holding. Kendra regains her composure although the anger beneath the surface is clearly visible. With her lead you soon arrive at the grave site where the Professor will be laid to rest.
Mounds of fresh turned earth flank either side of a large hole. Standing at the head of the grave is an elderly man whom Kendra introduces to you as Father Vauran Grimburrow, the village priest. A pair of workers stand a respectful distance back, leaning on their shovels, watching the ceremony.

Father Grimburrow

Father Grimburrow nods to each of you in turn as Kendra introduces you to him as you lower the casket onto a scaffold across the grave. After a short ceremony where Father Grimburrow consecrates the ground with holy water and a blessing of Pharasma he asks Kendra to step forward and say some words about her father.

Kendra, fighting back tears, recalls some of the events of her childhood and the happier times she spent with growing up with her father. Finished, she calls upon her father's friends to come forward and say something about their memories of Petros Lorrimor. Each of the townsfolk step forward to share a story or anecdote of their experiences with the Professor. After the last one finishes all eyes turn to you.


Male Half-Orc Inquisitor 1 | HP: 10/10 | AC: 14, Touch: 11, Flat: 13 | Saves - Fort.: 4, Ref.: 1, Will: 5 | Percept.: +7 | Initiative: +3

Although public speeches are far from Davor's comfort zone, he's compelled by both his heart and the mourners' stares to step forward and offer a few words about Professor Lorrimor.

Unsure of what to say and lacking the eloquence of some of his comrades, he keeps his comments brief.

"The Professor was a good man and we were all lucky to have known him. His devotion to his research and his thirst for knowledge should be examples to us all. It was on one of his research expeditions that I met Professor Lorrimor, and my life has certainly been better for it. The Professor and I served Pharasma in different ways – he through his scholarly pursuits and me in my own way. I have no doubt she will bless his passage from this realm and welcome him with open arms."

With that, he traces Pharasma's holy symbol over his heart once again as he takes a step back into the line of mourners. He closes his eyes and bows his head low in an attempt to mask his grief.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Tamarie will step up after Davor, and cough slightly to clear her throat.

"Most of you will know the professor better than me, or have a clearer image in their heads of who he was, and what he did. I don't want to try and change this, but would like to add my own."

She pauses slightly, swallowing.

"He was a man that believed in what was right, even if he was the only one. He enjoyed the world, he lived in the world, and made sure not to be disturbed by petty things as gender, race or heritage. He was the best employer I ever had, and nothing pains me more than to think about never seeing him again. I'm certain however, that his journey has not ended. He will still be taking notes, where ever his spirit may be. Rest easy, old friend, and know that you will be sorely missed..."

Tamarie will step down quickly, and hide her face under her cloak, so nobody can see her watery eyes.


female Human Rogue/Inquisitor (5/4)-AC 21 T 16 FF 17 HP 66/66 -Ini+6-BaB+6 (+9 ranged) CMB +6 CMD 20- Fort +8 Ref+11 Will+8 -Per+13 Move 30

my memories of the Professor are scarce, as i meet him while i was quite young, maybe 8 years old. That was some two winters after my own father's death.
I remember the Professor's smile,his kind voice, his willingness to help a young girl who was both strange and a stranger to him.
I remember his patience with a young girl that always had, and still have to this day, too much energy to spend.

A sad smile appears on Vivian lips, then she continues

But the good doctor wasn't just in the temple i called home for playing hide and seek with me. Anger, pain and despair are all too common in a Pharasman temple, because it's overcrowded with Death.
As a child, with a wild and boundless imagination, I was "able" to see the spirits of the recently departed. Even facing the threath of the unknown, his resolve didn't flich. He never seemed afraid of the spirits who scared me, and with his help and vast occult knowledge, my mother and the other priests were able to put theses "ghosts" who haunted me to rest.

She sighs
People may be remember the professor's bravery, or his endless thirst for uncommon knowledges, as Davor said. I'll remember his smile and kindness forever.

With teary eyes, she looks at Kendra
I, for one, feel guilty of all the time your father spend helping other, the smiles and kindness he showered upon others, time, smiles and kindness he would have given to you in other circumstances. I guess, no, i'm sure he was a loving father, but I never felt as much as a thief than today for "stealing" him away from you. Please forgive me, Kendra. I won't dare to call you "the sister i never had", because I have no right to, but please consider me like your friend, and NEVER be afraid to ask my help, in any way I can help you.

She forms the spiral over her heart, and steps back, whispering a prayer to Pharasma


Male Human Universalist Wizard-- L1 | AC 12 (t12ff10) | hp 7/7 | Saves F+1 R+2 W+3 | Percep +1

Professor Rokannon walked up to the podium slowly, thinking of what to say.
Looking out at the audience, Kendra, friends and neigbors, he began to speak.
"Unlike many of you, Professor Lorrimor and I did not start out as friends. One of my pet theories, one I had spent the better part of four years putting together was destroyed by him in a night at an open forum. And... I did not take that well.
"I turned and discredited one of his favorite sources, one he had used in many of his books. And, well, to make a long story short, we went back and forth like that for quite a while."

He paused and puffed on his pipe.
"Over time, I think his writings became more robust, and I know that I worked harder than I ever had before to critique his and create unassailable works of thaumaturgy. But even more than that, he and I came to know each other, and appreciate our good points even as we struggled to smash each others works.
"Once in a while, I would read a treatise of his, and understanding would come to me... in a flash of..."

He pauses for a long moment, dashing a tear from his eye.
"Brilliance."
He reaches up and passes a hand in front of the Azlanti amulet at his throat, and it opens like an eye; a glowing pupil looking out at you.
He mutters a word and gestures up. A couple of small glowing yellow dragons burst up from his hands with a "Whoosh" and shoot skyward trailing golden sparks. They shoot up nearly 500 feet before exploding in a multicolored blaze of blue, green and white. Just for a moment, it's as if you can see the whole of the night sky ablaze with stars and planets (despite the overcast evening) before they trail downward, dim, and wink out one by one.

Spellcraft DC13:

This was an exotic spell called Snapdragon Fireworks.

"There is less light in the world now without him."
He somberly walks back to his seat.


Female Changeling Oracle (Life) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 27/27]; [Armor Class: 21; Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 19]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +3; CMD: 15]; [Saves: Fortitude: +4*; Reflex: +4*; Will: +6* (+2 v. death effects)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +1]

As the Professor finishes speaking Cassandra approaches the graveside and sighs. Clearing her throat she begins to speak "I met the Professor several years ago. He came to my village after I had suffered a brutal attack by a creature of spite and malice. I not only survived the attack but managed to drive the creature away. This piqued the Professor's interest and he came to my village to talk with me about my experiences. He found a confused and frightened young girl who was scared of the powers awoken in her that night. He told me to not be afraid but to embrace what had changed in me and to use those powers for the Light. Before he left he gave me several books," Cassandra pauses to issue a little chuckle "he always seemed to have books with him, to read. It was those books which guided me, and though I never saw the Professor again we corresponded over the intervening years as he followed my life and I his. It is a great sorrow that I will never get the opportunity to speak with him again."
As Cassandra finishes her speech she bends down and picks up a handful of the disturbed earth near the gravesite and saying a quick prayer to Pharasma sifts the dirt through her fingers in a spiral pattern over the casket. "Farewell, Professor. May the Lady protect you now."


As Cassandra finishes speaking, Father Grimburrow intones a final blessing of Pharasma for the Professor's enternal rest before tracing another spiral in the air over the open grave.

As the service concludes Councillor Hearthmount talks quietly with Father Grimburrow and after a vehement exchange the village priest approaches Kendra and the rest of the party. Taking the young woman's hands in his he stares into her eyes and in a voice pitched loud enough for all to hear he says "My poor young girl. Vashian told me about the ...altercation that took place. Disgusting! Rest assured the Sheriff and I will talk to those involved and see that nothing like that ever happens again." With a brief nod to indicate all of you Father Grimburrow takes his leave.

As the attendants prepare to lower the casket into the waiting grave, Kendra kisses her fingertips and lays her hand gently on the casket before turning, and with a wan smile, to invite everyone back to the house for refreshments. The townspeople all beg off citing the need to take care of their business in town but Councillor Hearthmount promises to visit this evening for the reading of the will.

Clearly disappointed Kendra turns to you and brightens "Oh well, it's just as well. Father never did like big parties." Without saying another word Kendra leads everyone back to her house.


AC 17 - Tch 14 - Ff 13 || HP 12 || Fort/Refl/Will +4/+6/+3 || CMD 16 || Perception +6/+8 (Low-light vision)

Tamarie will follow, obviously still saddened by all the beautiful words. She will keep an eye out for the rabble rouser, however.

Things might not have gotten out of hand yet, but they will. And my fingers are itchin'..


Striding purposefully, Kendra remains silent until you reach what is now her house. Once inside the tension visibly subsides as she sets about making more tea and inviting you all to partake of the refreshments set aside.

Later, the promise of rain is fulfilled as the grey clouds turn black and a downpour begins. Soon the whipcrack of thunder is heard as lightning flashes across the sky.

During the afternoon repast Kendra says "Councillor Hearthmount will be here later this evening to read father's will. Father recently changed it and wouldn't tell me what was in it just as he made me promise that if anything happened to him I would send for the five of you. Almost as if he knew something was going to happen." she trails off.

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