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cynarion's Carrion Crown PbP

Game Master cynarion

Professor Lorrimor, the renowned investigator and arcanist, has died. You came to his home in the town of Ravengro to pay your respects, but quickly discovered there was more to the wily old man's death than met the eye...


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mysterious male human purveyor of plot

Thanks Raj, but it's okay; I made the roll for a specific purpose, which I make clear in the still half-written post. Hopefully things will calm down again soon and I can get back to this adventure. : )


mysterious male human purveyor of plot
Karrik wrote:
Theron Adrezi wrote:
If you want to go [to The Unfurling Scroll, Theron will gladly accompany you. He wants to make sure our friend the wizard is still behaving, muahaha
This would be ideal, though honestly, there's nothing from an rp perspective I wanted to accomplish… just pick up the reagents for the potions.

If you like, Karrik, you can either stick with Raj and accompany Kendra and Father Grimburrow back to the house (and then head to Alendru's after that), or you can leave Raj and join the others at the Forge. Take your pick. : )


old male human cleric
Rajuna Two-Fangs wrote:


Grimburrow wrote:

You what? Father Grimburrow says, surprise clear on his face. In Harrowstone? Already?

He looks troubled as he moves over to lean against a chest of drawers. I have to say I didn't expect this--not so soon.

After Grimburrow appears and they begin walking back to the house, Raj lets a companionable silence build before breaking it utterly, as he watches the old priest sharply. "So if you weren't expectin' us to move on Harrowstone so soon - what were you expectin', eh? You had the prophecy - what aren't you tellin' us?"

Raj:
And, in the end, I didn’t use the Sense Motive roll after all. Owel.

I should also add, out-of-character, that I had forgotten that you told Grimburrow that you were going into Harrowstone; the only mention of it I have subsequently found is a passing reference by Lem when he was bartering for holy water, so my previous Grimburrow post was written as though he hadn't known you were going in yet. Mea culpa.

Father Grimburrow turns to regard Raj angrily. What was I expecting? I was expecting that the people Professor Lorrimor thought worthy of his legacy might be a little more circumspect! He chews his lip irritably as he allows silence to fill in the next few dozen yards, the crunch of your feet on the crusted dirt of the road the only counterpoint to the birdsong from the nearby fields.

The professor, he continues, was a wise man, but one who was given to rash decisions when pushed into a corner. He paid for that with his life. He takes all of you in with a stern gaze. I would hope not to see those unfortunate circumstances repeated.

As for what I’m not telling you, prophecy is not like alchemy, Master Rajuna. Mixing the same ingredients in precise proportions does not always generate the same result—especially in the present climate of uncertainty. Contrary to popular belief, prophecy is not typically delivered either as rhyming couplets or a beatific revelation. The truth is much more prosaic—and hence, much more boring.

As for what has been revealed to me, I will not speak on it, save to tell you what I told you yesterday: you and your companions will hold the fate of millions in your hands. You need to be ready for that. The decisions you make will affect everyone you know, and many more that you don’t. You need to be ready to make those decisions—on your own. I am merely an element of the dialectic, nothing more. Do not place too much faith in prophecy—or the words of a tired old man.


female half-orc sorcerer 2
Dragomir Vuk wrote:
Was that you I heard talking about not talking Old Lorrimors money?. Dragomir shakes his head tiredly. You can't think that way. I think he'd want you to take his last gift to you and help you make a better life for yourself.

Flori turns back from the window and leans against the sill. Her face is troubled.

Dragomir Vuk wrote:

Scared? Honestly? I SHOULD have been - I know I should have been... I mean it was some terrifying stuff right from the moment I entered the place.

He looks confused for a moment and his expression then goes... well... soft.

I felt something that I haven't felt... well since the tomb but before that? Not since I was a small kid.

Flori moves back from the window to Dragomir's bedside, and then, after a few moments of fidgeting, smooths out the coverlet and then sits down on the edge of the bed.

Dragomir Vuk wrote:

I felt the touch of a... well... my... God.

He rubs at his face.

Listen to me... next thing I'll be doin' is talking embroidery. I'm goin' soft.

As Dragomir drops his hand back down to the bed, Flori puts her own over it, and then, after a moment's hesitation, grasps it. Dragomir, there are lots of things in this world I don't understand. Sometimes I feel like I am all at sea, with my sails flapping in the wind.

But there are some truths out there, and one of those is that the gods are not to be trifled with. Out on Lake Encarthan, I've seen men die in the strangest of circumstances, and I've seen others pull through impossible odds. Who can say what fate has in store for any of us? In this, we are little more than debris on the tide, taken where the current wills us.

If you have truly been touched by your god, then you are blessed, and can take at least some measure of certainty in your path.

She withdraws her hand and stands up, heading back to the window to stare out again.

As for the Professor's money, my life is quite adequate as it is. I have no need for so much coin, and in any case would prefer to be alive and poor than dead and rich. I cannot go into Harrowstone with you. Septimus can--and has. For that, he is a more deserving inheritor of the Professor's legacy.

Silence prevails for a few moments, then Flori turns back from the window with a small smile on her face.

And Dragomir? If you do want to learn embroidery, let me know; I can teach you.


young female human (no class)
Walter Vheist wrote:
Carrion Crown GM wrote:
The words carry to you across the square--and they are quite disturbing.
[Walter] veered close to Vesmera when they moved up to pass, stopping for a moment to talk. "That's, um, an interesting song," he spoke under his breath, trying not to interrupt the girls' game.

Vesmera turns around as she hears Walter's voice. Her hoop earrings glint in what little sunshine penetrates the cloud cover.

Walter! she says brightly, with a smile on her face, before she turns back to watch the children at play. 'Interesting' is one word for it. It's a little creepy if you ask me.


middle-aged female human cleric
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Iona Geryn wrote:

Iona looks up at the sound of the door opening; she is at her desk, poring through the ledger she received from you. A look of surprise and concern plays across her face.

Only one of you left? she says. What happened?

Lem is shocked for a bit, then smiles and puts his hand on Iona's reassuringly.

Oh no, sister, everyone is fine, they're all busy with different tasks at the moment. We purged Harrowstone of some small measure of its evil and we all left whole and relatively healthy. I'm here because we ran into the shade of the Piper of Illmarsh, and I'd like to find how to dispel him for good. I saw a...vision of a young woman, perhaps a craftswoman. Do you know who this might be? I believe she might be the key to sending the Piper to his ultimate fate.

You see relief on Iona's face before she becomes businesslike again.

I'm glad to hear it, she says as she reaches into a drawer at her desk and pulls out the same ledger you were referring to yesterday. I take it you plan to head back again, then? She flips the book open to the pages you were perusing.

I'm not sure about your craftswoman. There were not many women imprisoned in Harrowstone. Do you know anything else about her, beyond her presumed profession?


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2
Iona Geryn wrote:
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Iona Geryn wrote:

Iona looks up at the sound of the door opening; she is at her desk, poring through the ledger she received from you. A look of surprise and concern plays across her face.

Only one of you left? she says. What happened?

Lem is shocked for a bit, then smiles and puts his hand on Iona's reassuringly.

Oh no, sister, everyone is fine, they're all busy with different tasks at the moment. We purged Harrowstone of some small measure of its evil and we all left whole and relatively healthy. I'm here because we ran into the shade of the Piper of Illmarsh, and I'd like to find how to dispel him for good. I saw a...vision of a young woman, perhaps a craftswoman. Do you know who this might be? I believe she might be the key to sending the Piper to his ultimate fate.

You see relief on Iona's face before she becomes businesslike again.

I'm glad to hear it, she says as she reaches into a drawer at her desk and pulls out the same ledger you were referring to yesterday. I take it you plan to head back again, then? She flips the book open to the pages you were perusing.

I'm not sure about your craftswoman. There were not many women imprisoned in Harrowstone. Do you know anything else about her, beyond her presumed profession?

Lem thinks for a moment, recalling the vision he saw in the prison.

She was young, Varisian, perhaps a woodworker. She wasn't necessarily a prisoner, perhaps a victim? She had long brown hair and wore a choker with a large red stone around her neck. Does any of this sound familiar? I confess, I don't know where to begin searching.


middle-aged female human cleric
Lem Longbarrow wrote:

Lem thinks for a moment, recalling the vision he saw in the prison.

She was young, Varisian, perhaps a woodworker. She wasn't necessarily a prisoner, perhaps a victim? She had long brown hair and wore a choker with a large red stone around her neck. Does any of this sound familiar? I confess, I don't know where to begin searching.

Iona's eyes narrow. What makes you think she was a craftswoman?


HPs 16/(26)28...AC18/Touch11/Flatfoot17/CMD 18||HP 26/[28]| Fort:+5 ;Ref:+2 ;Wil+0|Percept +1/Sense Motive +5 Male Human Ustalav Varisian Fighter/2 *12 Con /Fort:+4

Faugh! Get away with that embroidery and get me an ale, Dragomir explodes with a laugh.

He then sighs tiredly.

Ain't felt this bad in a long time... not since I was ill on a wagon train job that I needed to keep a double watch on.

He looks again at Flori.

The Proffessor Lorrimor didn't leave you a legacy to go to Harrowstone, or catch his killer - be that ghost or man, but rather t' keep Kendra company and stay until the end of the month. I work by contracts and yer fufillin' yers. Take what you have earned if you earned it, and leave a legacy of yer own - open a dress shop or summwat like that.

Now the thing is t' stop moping around - yer bein' plenty useful as we can't be here but you can - if Kendra needs ya t' fight here, yer will... and I need ya too.... He stops and then grins, I need ya t' get me that ale.


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2
Iona Geryn wrote:
Lem Longbarrow wrote:

Lem thinks for a moment, recalling the vision he saw in the prison.

She was young, Varisian, perhaps a woodworker. She wasn't necessarily a prisoner, perhaps a victim? She had long brown hair and wore a choker with a large red stone around her neck. Does any of this sound familiar? I confess, I don't know where to begin searching.

Iona's eyes narrow. What makes you think she was a craftswoman?

She was walking around by a bunch of benches with woodworking tools on them, and no one else was in the vision, so I assumed they were hers. I suppose the tools could have belonged to someone else, now that you mention it...


female half-orc sorcerer 2
Dragomir Vuk wrote:
... and I need ya too.... He stops and then grins, I need ya t' get me that ale.

Flori laughs in turn.

Fabulous Flori wrote:
Dragomir is resting comfortably--well, as comfortably as he can--in his room when there is a light tap on the door. Flori comes in carrying a tray containing a cup of hot herbal tea, **and a large mug of ale**.

Flori indicates the ale sitting on the tray on Dragomir's lap. Are you sure you're all right? she asks.

The smile fades from her face as she responds to Dragomir's other assertion about the Professor's inheritance. I don't know, Dragomir. The idea of staying here scares me, let alone going to Lepidstadt. I will have to think about it.


middle-aged female human cleric
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Iona Geryn wrote:
Lem Longbarrow wrote:

Lem thinks for a moment, recalling the vision he saw in the prison.

She was young, Varisian, perhaps a woodworker. She wasn't necessarily a prisoner, perhaps a victim? She had long brown hair and wore a choker with a large red stone around her neck. Does any of this sound familiar? I confess, I don't know where to begin searching.

Iona's eyes narrow. What makes you think she was a craftswoman?
She was walking around by a bunch of benches with woodworking tools on them, and no one else was in the vision, so I assumed they were hers. I suppose the tools could have belonged to someone else, now that you mention it...

Iona taps a finger to her chin thoughtfully. Tell me what you know about the fire, then, she says.

Presuming you relate what you did in this post, Iona straightens up in her chair.

This Quentyn had the right of it, she says when Lem is finished, although I'm not sure he had the cause of the fire right; the way I understand it, the fire started when some of the guards left upstairs panicked and set a fire in the lift shaft, which the prisoners were trying to climb up.

And what do you know of ghosts, then?

(In other words, make a Knowledge (religion) check.)


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2

Know (Religion) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12


HPs 16/(26)28...AC18/Touch11/Flatfoot17/CMD 18||HP 26/[28]| Fort:+5 ;Ref:+2 ;Wil+0|Percept +1/Sense Motive +5 Male Human Ustalav Varisian Fighter/2 *12 Con /Fort:+4

Don't feel bad - Desna never was big on the undead


HPs 16/(26)28...AC18/Touch11/Flatfoot17/CMD 18||HP 26/[28]| Fort:+5 ;Ref:+2 ;Wil+0|Percept +1/Sense Motive +5 Male Human Ustalav Varisian Fighter/2 *12 Con /Fort:+4
Fabulous Flori wrote:


The smile fades from her face as she responds to Dragomir's other assertion about the Professor's inheritance. I don't know, Dragomir. The idea of staying here scares me, let alone going to Lepidstadt. I will have to think about it.

Fine... just weak is all.

Dragomir ignores the tea entirely and quaffs more than a quarter of the ale down thirstily, spilling comparatively little of it as he guzzles.

Ahhh... I feel 'better' already... like ya 'better get me another'.

He grins again before his smile turns uncharacteristically kind.

Look, I really don't know what my future holds. I know in the past I wouldn't have cared much what you did one way or the other. He holds up a hand forestalling any comment.

Didn't really care about anyone before - just my crew, and even then it was more just because I needed to and because I had to spend days with 'em at a stretch... but... I'm seein' things differen' like now... its confusin', he shakes himself and continues. But one thing I know, is that I care now... and I want to make sure that you are taken care of - not just with coin, but in yer... . Dragomir halts, struggling with alien thoughts and feelings, unable to find words... heart?. He grits his jaw awkwardly... Spirit?... well, the bit inside you that makes you get up in the mornin' and feel good about yerself and the bit that makes you, you. I care about that as well. Coin maybe won't change yer life but stickin' this out? Knowin' yer were there for your friends family right up until the end? You miss that bit and its gonna tear ya up and eat ya from inside. You gotta see this through. At the end of it? Yer can give the coins to a beggar or widow woman if'n yer want but yer gotta close this last thing out 'tween you an' the Professor.

He drinks again, just as deeply.

Damn me - I ain't meself at all, looking confused more than anything else.

Look, Flori - I'm here. If yer scared about the trip to Leiptstat at the end of it all? I'll do my part to keep yer safe - just stick it out and I'll help where I can.


I figure that Sense Motive roll should be good for the whole conversation. Feel free to use it later. :)

Grimburrow wrote:
Father Grimburrow turns to regard Raj angrily. What was I expecting? I was expecting that the people Professor Lorrimor thought worthy of his legacy might be a little more circumspect! He chews his lip irritably as he allows silence to fill in the next few dozen yards, the crunch of your feet on the crusted dirt of the road the only counterpoint to the birdsong from the nearby fields.

Rajuna weathers the old man's ill-temper placidly. "Circumspect got one too many syllables for me to like it, Father. I'm a simple man - so let's get down to the nut of this. Readin' books in your library took us as far as it could. We needed more information and a chance to see what we were dealing with - so we did it - as quiet and careful as possible. Don't like our choices? Grab a pack and risk your own skin doin' it your way."

Grimburrow wrote:
As for what I’m not telling you, prophecy is not like alchemy, Master Rajuna. Mixing the same ingredients in precise proportions does not always generate the same result - especially in the present climate of uncertainty. Contrary to popular belief, prophecy is not typically delivered either as rhyming couplets or a beatific revelation. The truth is much more prosaic - and hence, much more boring.

Raj nods, "Ain't a 'Master' in front of my name, Father. And I wouldn't know the difference between alchemy and prophecy if they bought me drinks. But you answered my question all the same."

Grimburrow wrote:
As for what has been revealed to me, I will not speak on it, save to tell you what I told you yesterday: you and your companions will hold the fate of millions in your hands. You need to be ready for that. The decisions you make will affect everyone you know, and many more that you don’t. You need to be ready to make those decisions - on your own. I am merely an element of the dialectic, nothing more. Do not place too much faith in prophecy - or the words of a tired old man.

The thief barks a laugh. "I don't trust what I can't verify so I've got little faith for words or prophecies, Father. I took your warning yesterday and I take it again today."


mysterious male human purveyor of plot
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Know (Religion) 1d20 + 6

A little GM fiat here...

Lem straightens up at Iona's question. Ghosts? the little priest asks. They're the spirits of the departed, held back here for some reason.


Go Go Fiat!


middle-aged female human cleric
(Effectively) Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Lem straightens up at Iona's question. Ghosts? the little priest asks. They're the spirits of the departed, held back here for some reason.

That they are, Iona confirms, getting up from her seat and fishing in a pocket of her robes for something. But they have strange capabilities, and my guess is that what you saw in your vision was a ghost, reaching out to you.

She finally finds a set of keys in her pocket, and beckons to Lem to follow her. Come on, there's only one place I can think of that you'll find your answer, if there is one to be found.


mysterious male human purveyor of plot

Iona heads out the door of the archives, closing and locking the door behind her, then chivvies Lem up the stairs. You make your way out into the still-overcast afternoon, where Iona stops in the middle of the road, grumbling.


middle-aged female human cleric

Iona looks left and right while she mutters to herself.

Don't know why they didn't build a bridge in the middle of the town...no, we have to walk all the way down one end, only to walk all the way back again...

She eventually makes a decision and turns left, heading north toward The Unfurling Scroll.

Come on, what are you waiting for? she calls back to Lem.

As you walk, Iona explains where she's taking you.

Have you met the moneylenders yet? No? Well, they're honest folk--especially for their profession. If you take out a loan and can't repay it, they'll take your possessions as payment, and then sell them off to repay the debt. That's just business.

But they also sell the unclaimed items from deceased estates--sometimes at the direction of the heir, sometimes because there's no heir to be found. That includes art--but there's not a lot of interest in paintings around here, so they tend to accumulate, especially when they're portraits. After all, who would want to buy a portrait of a stranger to hang in their house? If you're lucky, you might find a picture that looks like the woman you saw. Then you can start asking some more questions.


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2

Edited to reflect additional post

After her comment about the town layout...

I know, if we hadn't just come from the Pharasman temple, I'd think my people had a hand in designing this town.

He chuckles lightly to himself as he matches pace with Iona. When she mentions the artwork, he stops her and looks up into her eyes, genuine appreciation in his face.

That is an outstanding idea. Thank you so much for your help with this, Sister. Oftentimes the people that we are tasked to watch over have no knowledge of the lengths we go to for their safety, but that does not diminish their importance. You are helping me keep the darkness at bay from this town, when others will not lift a finger. I will not forget your aid.


mysterious male human purveyor of plot

More GM fiat: to keep the timelines straight, I will presume that Walter & co. have finished their chat with Vesmera by the time Lem & Iona arrive in the square--hence they're not visible as they are chatting to Jorfa in the Forge.

After around five minutes of walking, Iona and Lem arrive in the town square. It's not quite so busy as yesterday as the market is no longer set up, but there are still plenty of people moving around. You make your way into the moneylenders--The Silk Purse, the sign proclaims it--past a group of children playing skip-rope.


mysterious male human purveyor of plot

The front room of the moneylenders--surprisingly--is actually set up more like a store, with glass cabinets holding all manner of trinkets--some of which are clearly magical. Most of them are pieces of jewellery or gemstones.

Down the other end of the room are a man and a woman, fussing over one of the cabinets. The man looks like a farmer come good, but the woman has the bearing--and clothing--of an aristocrat. They don't turn around as you enter.


middle-aged male human expert

Do you seriously think anyone here can afford it anyway? the man says.


female human (Shoanti) expert

Pish posh, the woman responds. Whether they can afford it or not, we should take pride in our displays. If it doesn't sell before midsummer, I'll send word to Lepidstadt.


middle-aged male human expert

The man shakes his head. You're crazy, woman. We can't hold onto it for that long. Too much money tied up in it.


female human (Shoanti) expert

Come now, the woman responds with mirth in her voice. We're doing fine. Midsummer. That's final.

Now, are you going to clean the cabinets like I asked?


middle-aged male human expert

Perception DC 15:
Maybe... the man says quietly, ...or maybe I got something else in mind...

The man snakes an arm around the woman's waist, pulling her across to him.


middle-aged female human cleric

Iona, tired of waiting, clears her throat--the two of them whip around to face you as the man immediately withdraws his arm. Their faces begin to redden.

Iona's expression clearly indicates she is not amused. Good afternoon Quess, Luramin. She nods to the woman, and then the man. If we're not taking you away from anything...important-- both Quess and Luramin begin fidgeting uncomfortably --then perhaps you can speak with this gentleman? This is Master Lem Longbarrow, travelling priest of Desna. He would like to visit your art collection--but I'll let him explain why.

She turns to Lem. Good luck, she says. If you need me for anything else, you know where to find me.

She turns on her heel and heads straight back out the door.


female human (Shoanti) expert

The woman recovers first. Lem, was it? she says as she strides across the floor, her skirts swishing around her feet as she moves. I'm Quess--this is my...partner, Luramin. She holds out a hand.

You want to see the art collection?


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2

I edited my post above--not sure if Iona wants to respond to that.

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Hmm, I wonder what that was about?

The priest ponders, as Iona becomes agitated and leaves.

He glances at the displays with moderate interest, then responds to Quess:

Pleased to meet you Miss Quess, Master Luramin. Yes, I would very much like to see any artwork that you have available. Forgive me, I'm getting on in years, but at one of the Lady's shrines some years past I saw a painting. It was of a young Varisian woman, with a red brooch around her neck. Yesterday I had a dream about that painting and, while it may be nothing, I would be a bit hypocritical if I didn't consider the possibility that it may be a portent from Desna, wouldn't you agree? So, shall we?

Bluff 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21


Male Human Oracle 2
Vesmera Avanaki wrote:


Vesmera turns around as she hears Walter's voice. Her hoop earrings glint in what little sunshine penetrates the cloud cover.

Walter! she says brightly, with a smile on her face, before she turns back to watch the children at play. 'Interesting' is one word for it. It's a little creepy if you ask me.

He smiles sheepishly and comments "I think I've been called that same kind of interesting," proud of himself that he was able to keep his stammer straight for one joke. "Is that... normal? It sounds like they've got it um, memorized fairly well," he asked.

Walter glanced back to his friends. His well-armed foreign friends. His well-armed foreign friends kept waiting. He wasn't sure if they wanted to be introduced or if they wanted to move on, and he jumped a bit at the feeling he was missing something. He held up a hand and gestured before saying "Um, this is Vesmera," hoping that his introduction would straddle the line between polite and the social norm of the peasantry.


{HP9/19 | AC16 T12 FF14 CMD 16 | F/R/W 4/2/3} Female Samsaran Bladebound Magus 2

Rose had kept her hood up and pulled tight, hiding her face out of habit. She naturlly pulled it closer as Walter introduced the young girl, keeping her face away as she spoke, extending her gloved hand. "My name is Rose. A pleasure Vesmera." The glint of light caused Rose to turn towards the girl. "Your earrings, they are very pretty." Realizing she was showing her face to her, Rose quickly averts her gaze away. She had begun to feel welcome at Kendra's, so many other strange people, she had lowered her defense for just a moment.


Male Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 2
Walter Vheist wrote:
"Um, this is Vesmera,"

Theron had been eying the group of singing girls with a somewhat disturbed look on his face before his attention was diverted by Walter's introduction. "...Ah, Greetings, I'm Theron, it is good to meet you Vesmera." He said, recalling that he had seen Walter talking with her before. "I have to say that whoever created that rhyme has poor taste." He added with a bit of a laugh to keep himself from sounding too serious in an attempt to make conversation. At the same time though, he found himself still listening to the playing girls.

Aside from how disturbing it was, something about the song bothered him and several of the words in it caught his attention. First the mention of Stirges, since they had just come so close to losing their lives to the bloodsuckers. Then there was 'Splatter'...


female half-orc sorcerer 2
Dragomir Vuk wrote:
Fabulous Flori wrote:


The smile fades from her face as she responds to Dragomir's other assertion about the Professor's inheritance. I don't know, Dragomir. The idea of staying here scares me, let alone going to Lepidstadt. I will have to think about it.

Look, I really don't know what my future holds. I know in the past I wouldn't have cared much what you did one way or the other.

...

But one thing I know, is that I care now... and I want to make sure that you are taken care of - not just with coin, but in yer... . Dragomir halts, struggling with alien thoughts and feelings, unable to find words... heart?. He grits his jaw awkwardly... Spirit?... well, the bit inside you that makes you get up in the mornin' and feel good about yerself and the bit that makes you, you. I care about that as well. Coin maybe won't change yer life but stickin' this out? Knowin' yer were there for your friends family right up until the end? You miss that bit and its gonna tear ya up and eat ya from inside. You gotta see this through. At the end of it? Yer can give the coins to a beggar or widow woman if'n yer want but yer gotta close this last thing out 'tween you an' the Professor.

He drinks again, just as deeply.

Damn me - I ain't meself at all, looking confused more than anything else.

Look, Flori - I'm here. If yer scared about the trip to Leiptstat at the end of it all? I'll do my part to keep yer safe - just stick it out and I'll help where I can.

Tears well up in Flori's eyes as you speak. She does her best to blink them away, but a few make their way down her cheeks before she scuffs them away with her palms.

She sniffs loudly. Huh. Never thought you'd be the one to make me cry, she says. At least, not like this.


old male human cleric
Rajuna Two-Fangs wrote:

"Circumspect got one too many syllables for me to like it, Father. I'm a simple man - so let's get down to the nut of this. Readin' books in your library took us as far as it could. We needed more information and a chance to see what we were dealing with - so we did it - as quiet and careful as possible. Don't like our choices? Grab a pack and risk your own skin doin' it your way."

...

Raj nods, "Ain't a 'Master' in front of my name, Father. And I wouldn't know the difference between alchemy and prophecy if they bought me drinks. But you answered my question all the same."

...

The thief barks a laugh. "I don't trust what I can't verify so I've got little faith for words or prophecies, Father. I took your warning yesterday and I take it again today."

Father Grimburrow seems almost amused at Raj's responses. I doubt very much that you are quite as simple as you seem, young man, he says. As for your title, well, I think 'Master' is appropriate, but if you prefer to remain a 'simple' man then who am I to judge...

You trudge onwards in silence for a few dozen yards before Grimburrow speaks up again.

As for my warnings, let me explain in a way that perhaps a man like yourself will find more conducive to understanding.

You and your companions--one way or another--are destined for great things. Along the way, you will have to make choices--some of which you may not like. I'm not here to give you the answers--I am here to teach you how to think. You need to get to the answers on your own.

Inevitably, the decisions you make on your journey will change you--make you something other than what you are today. He looks up at Kendra. My advice--for what it's worth--is to keep sight of what is important to you.

Raj:
What's going on here? Well, Grimburrow's Sense Motive roll is enough to give him an idea that Raj is religious--he has picked up little things like the incongruity between Raj's adopted demeanour and his familiarity with the Temple surroundings. But while Grimburrow is sure that Raj has a specific faith, he doesn't know which one, and he certainly doesn't know that Raj is 'employed' by the church of Iomedae.

As for his veiled reference to Kendra at the end there, he is referring to friendship, although he has his suspicions about the two of you being compatible. He doesn't know about the existing relationship (whatever it is!).


Raj chews on Grimburrow's words as they walk along. Eventually, he pats the old priest on the shoulder and smiles.

"Damned if I don't like you, Father! Betimes, you remind me of... me. You see a lot and say as little as is prudent. I can't speak to what great deeds we might do but I look at every choice six ways to see the angles on it. Don't know if that passes for thinkin' but it's what I do. You wanna help me with that, I'll thank you for it. As for hard choices that I might not spark to... look at my face. I've had a lifetime of those."

Raj continues along briefly in silence before, in an uncharacteristically talkative moment, he expands on his previous point. "Doc was sorta jokin' around with me once and he asked, "Raj, my boy, what is the matter with you? Why do you always insist on taking the path of most resistance?" He caught me short on that. The only thing I could think to say was, "'cuz that's the right way to go."..." The thief lapses into silence, only slightly disturbed that he'd spoken more of his mind than he normally would.


young female human (no class)
Walter Vheist wrote:
Vesmera Avanaki wrote:


Vesmera turns around as she hears Walter's voice. Her hoop earrings glint in what little sunshine penetrates the cloud cover.

Walter! she says brightly, with a smile on her face, before she turns back to watch the children at play. 'Interesting' is one word for it. It's a little creepy if you ask me.

He smiles sheepishly and comments "I think I've been called that same kind of interesting," proud of himself that he was able to keep his stammer straight for one joke.

Vesmera laughs. You certainly are interesting, Walter, but not like that.

Walter wrote:
"Is that... normal? It sounds like they've got it um, memorized fairly well," he asked.

Vesmera leans in close to Walter, whispering while the girls continue to play their game. It's just a rhyme. We've been singing it here for ages--I sang it myself when I was their age. Vesmera's hair smells like...flowers? It was only when I was older that I realised what the words meant. She shivers, and wraps her arms around herself.

Walter wrote:
Walter glanced back to his friends. His well-armed foreign friends. His well-armed foreign friends kept waiting. He wasn't sure if they wanted to be introduced or if they wanted to move on, and he jumped a bit at the feeling he was missing something. He held up a hand and gestured before saying "Um, this is Vesmera," hoping that his introduction would straddle the line between polite and the social norm of the peasantry.

Vesmera turns around to greet the newcomers.

Rose Springdawn wrote:
Rose had kept her hood up and pulled tight, hiding her face out of habit. She naturlly pulled it closer as Walter introduced the young girl, keeping her face away as she spoke, extending her gloved hand. "My name is Rose. A pleasure Vesmera."

Vesmera seems intrigued by Rose's body language, but does not press the issue as she shakes the taller woman's hand.

Pleased to meet you, Miss Rose. She sketches a brief curtsy--it's clear she is just being polite rather than making any definitive comment about her or Rose's station.

Rose Springdawn wrote:
The glint of light caused Rose to turn towards the girl. "Your earrings, they are very pretty." Realizing she was showing her face to her, Rose quickly averts her gaze away. She had begun to feel welcome at Kendra's, so many other strange people, she had lowered her defense for just a moment.

Vesmera's Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

It's clear to Rose that Vesmera has seen her pale skin, but the young girl seems only to be concerned with Rose's welfare as she turns away again.

Miss Rose? Are you unwell? If you need to sit down, you can come to our shop. It's just over there. She gestures to the other side of the square.

Presuming that resolves itself...

Theron Adrezi wrote:
"...Ah, Greetings, I'm Theron, it is good to meet you Vesmera." He said, recalling that he had seen Walter talking with her before. "I have to say that whoever created that rhyme has poor taste." He added with a bit of a laugh to keep himself from sounding too serious in an attempt to make conversation. At the same time though, he found himself still listening to the playing girls.

Vesmera smiles as she shakes Theron's hand too. I know, she says. Unfortunately I doubt whoever made it up still lives here--unless it was Jorfa. She grins at the idea of a dwarf making up a rhyme, even as she glances over her shoulder to make sure the skipping girls are still within sight.

If Theron is still wearing his armour:
Vesmera looks Theron up and down.

Vesmera's Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Are you a priest? she asks, gesturing at the holy symbols on Theron's armour. I don't know all of these, but that one is Iomedae, isn't it? Are you a crusader from Lastwall, then?

Vesmera turns back to Walter and puts a hand on his elbow for a moment--just a casual contact, but...was it really necessary?

It's lovely to meet your friends, Walter. She turns back to Theron and Rose. Are you all visiting Miss Lorrimor?


mysterious male human purveyor of plot

Rose, Theron and Walter, please make a Perception check. Walter gets +5 on his check because he's so boss.


{HP9/19 | AC16 T12 FF14 CMD 16 | F/R/W 4/2/3} Female Samsaran Bladebound Magus 2
Vesmera Avanaki wrote:
Miss Rose? Are you unwell? If you need to sit down, you can come to our shop. It's just over there. She gestures to the other side of the square.

"Thank you for the offer, but I am fine." Rose breathes a sigh of relief inwardly, not having to dwell to deep upon her appearance.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 11


middle-aged female human cleric

Rewinding for a moment...

Lem Longbarrow wrote:

When [Iona] mentions [finding the woman from Lem's vision amongst] the artwork, he stops her and looks up into her eyes, genuine appreciation in his face.

That is an outstanding idea. Thank you so much for your help with this, Sister. Oftentimes the people that we are tasked to watch over have no knowledge of the lengths we go to for their safety, but that does not diminish their importance. You are helping me keep the darkness at bay from this town, when others will not lift a finger. I will not forget your aid.

Lem, make a Sense Motive check, DC 16.

Pass:
Iona's Bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16

Iona looks...conflicted, as she gathers her thoughts. Lem can see that she is having trouble coming to grips with churning emotions. For a moment, it looks as though she is going to burst into tears, but she masters herself, and takes a deep breath before replying.

Thank you. I appreciate your kind words. It's not often that I have an opportunity to help in this sort of way, so I suppose we are both somewhat 'lucky', hmm? Her smile is small, but seems genuine. Shall we continue?

Fail:
Iona's face goes still for a moment--perhaps she is irritated by the interruption to her work?--as she tries to work out what to say, and takes a deep breath to calm herself. In the end, it seems like she tries to be diplomatic.

Thank you. I appreciate your kind words. It's not often that I have an opportunity to help in this sort of way, so I suppose we are both somewhat 'lucky', hmm? Her small smile seems a touch...condescending? Shall we continue?


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2
Iona Geryn wrote:

Rewinding for a moment...

Lem Longbarrow wrote:

When [Iona] mentions [finding the woman from Lem's vision amongst] the artwork, he stops her and looks up into her eyes, genuine appreciation in his face.

That is an outstanding idea. Thank you so much for your help with this, Sister. Oftentimes the people that we are tasked to watch over have no knowledge of the lengths we go to for their safety, but that does not diminish their importance. You are helping me keep the darkness at bay from this town, when others will not lift a finger. I will not forget your aid.

Lem, make a Sense Motive check, DC 16.

** spoiler omitted **

** spoiler omitted **

Sense Motive 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

The small priest smiles at the word "lucky".

Of course we are lucky! We are alive and well, with good companionship on the road and knowledge at our fingertips. Many of the locals here view luck as a superstition and attribute their lots in life to "fate" or "destiny". Luck...Fate...things we can't control, right? Something bigger than ourselves? Pharasma and Desna, two sides of the same coin, though some have scoffed when I've spoken of coins, so I'll leave it at that. Our alliance is not by accident. Yes, let's press on!


female human (Shoanti) expert
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Pleased to meet you Miss Quess, Master Luramin. Yes, I would very much like to see any artwork that you have available. Forgive me, I'm getting on in years, but at one of the Lady's shrines some years past I saw a painting. It was of a young Varisian woman, with a red brooch around her neck. Yesterday I had a dream about that painting and, while it may be nothing, I would be a bit hypocritical if I didn't consider the possibility that it may be a portent from Desna, wouldn't you agree? So, shall we?

GM rolls:
Luramin's Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Quess's Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Quess and Luramin look at each other and shrug. Quess gestures to a door at the back of the showroom.

Follow me, won't you? The artwork is my area of expertise.

She leads you through the door, pausing only at the threshold to turn around and call out to Luramin to remind him to clean the cabinets.

You pass several doors down a hallway toward the back of the building. Eventually, Quess stops before one, takes a keyring from her pocket, and unlocks and then opens the door.

The windowless room is dark, but Quess takes a wand from another pocket and proffers it to Lem. Here, she says, if you're a priest, you'll be able to use this. It always takes me a few tries to make it work.

Taking the wand, Lem sees that it is a wand of light*.

Cast it on the ceiling, Quess suggests.

*:
No tricks, promise; it really is a wand of light; I just figured we might as well not bother rolling dice to identify it. : )


Male Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 2

*thinks* I'm going to say that Theron isn't currently wearing his armor... it probably still needs to get the blood washed off of it and he doesn't want to alarm the town.

Hah, maybe I should just label Theron's armor as Parade Armor like Lem's and be done with it ;)

Vesmera wrote:
I know, she says. Unfortunately I doubt whoever made it up still lives here--unless it was Jorfa.

"Ahh, I see, I wouldn't have thought such a song would be so old." He replied before making some calculations in his head. Did that mean the song had been around ever since Harrowstone had burnt down? That thought was more than a little disturbing.

Vesmera wrote:
Are you all visiting Miss Lorrimor?

Theron nods as he answers, "We are. You see, we were friends of her father, Professor Lorrimor, so we're keeping her company for a while until thing settle down." He didn't mention the funeral itself since he assumed that it would be common knowledge in such a small town.

Theron had to suppress a sigh. He was used to being a bit more open about his presence and actions in a town, but at least he didn't really have to lie in this case.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20


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HPs 16/(26)28...AC18/Touch11/Flatfoot17/CMD 18||HP 26/[28]| Fort:+5 ;Ref:+2 ;Wil+0|Percept +1/Sense Motive +5 Male Human Ustalav Varisian Fighter/2 *12 Con /Fort:+4

Dragomir finishes off his ale and hands the Jack over to Flori, a bit too confused within himself to do more than smile awkwardly.

If you can bring me another in a while I'd appreciate it... I need some time for myself for a little. Maybe half an hour? Knock if any want to visit with me.

He waits until Flori leaves the room then rises from the bed, and gets the rest of his clothes off. He pours water from a jug into a shallow dish and then, as best he can with a cloth, to clean himself thoroughly.

Just like washing a body afore we lay it out before burial, he thought. Through out the process, each time he changes hands or moves to a new part of his body, he makes a spiral over his heart with a closed fist

The ablutions take a few minutes but at the end of it Dragomir is about as clean as he has been in the last few months.

Still naked, he turns and faces the west, the direction that each day dies in and prays in wonder, first working through every remembered and half remembered rote prayer, sorting through childhood memories of worship until there is nothing left but silence in his heart and mind.


Male Halfling Cleric (Evangelist)/ 2
Quess Yearburn wrote:
Lem Longbarrow wrote:
Pleased to meet you Miss Quess, Master Luramin. Yes, I would very much like to see any artwork that you have available. Forgive me, I'm getting on in years, but at one of the Lady's shrines some years past I saw a painting. It was of a young Varisian woman, with a red brooch around her neck. Yesterday I had a dream about that painting and, while it may be nothing, I would be a bit hypocritical if I didn't consider the possibility that it may be a portent from Desna, wouldn't you agree? So, shall we?

** spoiler omitted **

Quess and Luramin look at each other and shrug. Quess gestures to a door at the back of the showroom.

Follow me, won't you? The artwork is my area of expertise.

She leads you through the door, pausing only at the threshold to turn around and call out to Luramin to remind him to clean the cabinets.

You pass several doors down a hallway toward the back of the building. Eventually, Quess stops before one, takes a keyring from her pocket, and unlocks and then opens the door.

The windowless room is dark, but Quess takes a wand from another pocket and proffers it to Lem. Here, she says, if you're a priest, you'll be able to use this. It always takes me a few tries to make it work.

Taking the wand, Lem sees that it is a wand of light*.

Cast it on the ceiling, Quess suggests.

** spoiler omitted **

Lem bristles slightly at the word "if", but doesn't interrupt Quess.

I won't begrudge you a bit of caution, or skepticism. But I would have thought that the word of a Pharasmin acolyte would hold more weight in Ravengro. Here, he says, handing the wand back to Quess.

Thank you, but I don't need the wand, only this. The priest holds his holy symbol in one hand, while pointing at the ceiling with the other.

Great Desna, bathe us in the light of your wisdom.

Casts Light


old male human cleric
Rajuna Two-Fangs wrote:

Raj chews on Grimburrow's words as they walk along. Eventually, he pats the old priest on the shoulder and smiles.

"Damned if I don't like you, Father! Betimes, you remind me of... me."

...

"Doc was sorta jokin' around with me once and he asked, "Raj, my boy, what is the matter with you? Why do you always insist on taking the path of most resistance?" He caught me short on that. The only thing I could think to say was, "'cuz that's the right way to go."..." The thief lapses into silence, only slightly disturbed that he'd spoken more of his mind than he normally would.

The old man glowers for a moment, but you can tell he is only putting on an act and that your words really do mean something to him.

Sometimes, pushing your way uphill through a difficult struggle can be a great learning experience. He pauses for a moment as you make your way through the front gate at Kendra's house. But sometimes--there's a phrase used by Garundi tribesmen in Pharasma's homeland that I believe I can translate to something you'll appreciate, he says as Kendra opens the front door and heads inside. The two of you are left on the porch by yourselves for a moment. The original Garundi is rather complex, and if I tried to repeat it I would make mistakes, but a passable Taldane translation is this:

Only the dung beetle was made to push s#!& uphill.

With that, he heads inside, leaving you on the doorstep.


Rajuna, alone on the doorstep, blinks twice and then bursts out laughing. "Now that is wisdom."

Well played, sir. Well played! :D


Male Human Oracle 2

Walter hadn't really realized that he'd missed Vesmera in the short time they'd been apart. He pondered on the short physical contact she'd initiated and the closeness she seemed comfortable with, overanalyzing every detail he could muster. He was glad that everyone seemed to get along, but just for a second, felt guilty that he'd put Rose on the spot with his impromptu introduction. Walter lost his train of thought.

Perception -1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Like a boss.

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