Martin smiles into the transmitter. "The Wilmington would be simply charming. In the meantime, I'd be interested in anything you can find out about a French play known in english as The King in Yellow. The play was written by a madman named Thomas de Castaigne during the Third Republic and supposedly caused riots. It uses a particular symbol known as the Yellow Sign that seems to affect the minds of those who view it. I'd also appreciate it if you could look into a place called 'Carcosa'. I'll be happy to explain things more when we meet."
"Wait, wait, let me get this down... King In Yellow... Carcosa- how do you spell that? And Castaigne, that's French... C-A-S-T-A-I-G-N-E? Very good. I'll see what I can find for you old chap. Tonight at the Wilmington? Six? Capital! See you there Martin!"
The Wilmington is a fine hotel not too far from your home in Belsize Park. Gentlemen discussing business arrangements or meeting friends sit at the tables, sometimes with feminine companionship. Arriving a few moments before Grayson, you secure a table for two and a round of pints. Snow bustles in a few moments later with his battered suitcase in tow. Life as a ghost-hunter isn't exactly lucrative: his jacket is a little worn and the patches at the elbow are for more than just cutting a scholarly air. Grayson's hair went completely white at a young age, leading you to believe he may have taken "Snow" as a sort of stage name in the profession. He is clean shaven and in his early thirties. He smiles as he spots you and waves, shortly before the host stops him and asks if he has a reservation. Impatiently, he follows the man's direction to the coat check and returns to your table- this time in a house dinner jacket.
"Getting bloody picky over here since last time I had the occasion.", he says after you've had a chance to exchange greetings,"But no matter. It's good to see you again, Martin."
Grayson pulls out a small journal from his back pocket and opens it up.
"Well, I had a chance to look into your French play. It's a valuable find, according to some of the booksellers I called. Rare to say the least, certainly infamous. None of the journals I've looked through have had much on the subject. I'd say you've got more on this than I do... but I've seen some odd bits of graffiti on the streets here and there. Hrm..."
He flips through his notebook, stopping on a different page.
" 'EYES SEE THE KING IN YELLOW.' 'THE KING WILL COME THIS WINTER.' And this thing..."
He turns the notebook around to show you where he's drawn a mirror image of the Yellow Sign with his fountain pen.
"I can't say I have the slightest idea what it all means, old chap. Why are you looking into it?"
Sanity roll v. 59 SP: 1d100 - another success! Must be Lucian's lucky day!
Lucian shakes his head irritably. "I'll have to cut back on the damn coffee if this keeps happening," he says to himself peevishly. Or maybe sleep more soundly..., a quiet voice in his head whispers. Pulling his coat even tighter in a way that doesn't have much to do with the cold, Lucian hurries to get to Thomas' studio.
Thomas' studio is on the third floor of a well-repaired building near the University, mostly artists' studios for those that need a bit more space for sculptures, better ventilation for oil painting or just to enjoy a more social atmosphere. You walk up the stairs to his space, passing other young artists and robe-clad models. Quite a few say hello, even the people you're not sure you've met before.
You let yourself into Thomas' studio, where he's fiddling with a study he's done of a woman with long red hair gazing at her reflection in a still pool, putting a few strokes of Tuscan yellow into the white of her dress, then stepping back across the room. Thomas Stewart is a bit taller than you with an old-fashioned beard (you're certain it was grown in imitation of Toulouse-Lautrec, though he fortunately didn't inherit the painter's stunted legs) and round spectacles. He stands in his shirtsleeves and an apron, wooden palette in his left hand. He turns at the opening of the door.
"Lucian! How good to see you! We've got a few minutes still before everyone shows up for the critique. Can I get you a drink? You look a bit tired."
Following Yrix the Great's proper directions, you take a left out of the archive heading north for about thirty feet until it hits a T intersection going left and right. On the left side is an alcove with a heavy door emblazoned with a strange seven pointed star symbol. To the right, the hallway continues about 40 feet to end in another door.
First up: knowledge checks. These can't be retried unless you find someplace to research them in town- so the only way Luka will find out about the Order of the Palatine Eye is if Arasmes fills him in or someone else can make the check.
Harrowstone- Knowledge Local or History
DC 10:
Spoiler:
Harrowstone is a ruined prison—partially destroyed by a fire in 4661, the building hasstood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
DC 15:
Spoiler:
Harrowstone was built in 4594. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
DC 20:
Spoiler:
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conflagration. It was only through the self-sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.
DC 25:
Spoiler:
At the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison. While the commonly held belief is that the tragic fire began accidentally after the riot began, in fact the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall to seal the rioting prisoners in the lower level, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping when the panicked guards accidentally started the fire in a desperate attempt to end the riot.
Learning (or in this case, remembering) all of this is worth 150 XP for each character once it's shared.
The Whispering Way- Knowledge Arcana or Religion
DC 10:
Spoiler:
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in the Inner Sea region for thousands of years.
DC 15:
Spoiler:
Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer.
DC 20:
Spoiler:
The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers— the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
This information is worth 70 XP each- there may be more to learn about the Whispering Way.
"Hmm . . . this is an interesting collection of books. I wonder what the professor could have been researching with this mix," Arasmes mutters aloud. He steps back and casts Detect Magic on the bunch, and spends a few minutes examining the results. He then picks up the black tome and begins perusing it, leaving the professor's journal to the folks who knew the good man a bit better than Arasmes did.
Luka notices the spell, and comments to Arasmes, "You recognize some of these as well?" His thoughts for the journal lost for the moment, he lets Evelyn take with barely a notice.
Of course, not being trained anything but know(arcana), I'm hoping the skill checks are DC 10
No rolls necessary, you can get the gist of them by flipping through the books.
The strange book with the purple cover is unknown to Luka. Looking through "Serving Your Hunger" you find it to be a holy book of Urgathoa, the Professor's notes scrawled in the margins. "The Umbral Leaves" is the Taldane translation of one of Zon Kuthon's holy texts. "On Verified Madness" deals with aberrations and other creatures thought to have connections to the Dark Tapestry, the spaces between Golarion's stars.
Beyond the oddly shaped (seemingly removable) carving in the wall, Kua notices nothing odd. The Ossuary seems as silent as a tomb in the halls outside.
Trevor is obviously not at ease with the opening of the chest, regardless of the comments about a books meant for them. Yet, he is certainly as curious as the others: "Just be careful not to damage anything..."
He'll ask Kendra about the old prison: "I noticed a new prison on our way here. Do you know why they closed the old one? Also, do you think we have time to get there today?"
Kendra went upstairs a moment ago; you can ask her about it later.
Arasmes finds that none of the books are magical. On Verified Madness promises to be an interesting read, but will take some time to delve through completely.
Anyone picking up the "Read Me Now!" tome:
Spoiler:
This appears to be the Professor's journal; most entries detail life in a small town but there are spots here and there that have been circled in red:
"20th Pharast, 4701:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
8th Sarenith, 4711:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
12th Erastus, 4711:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
31st Erastus, 4711:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
2nd Arodus, 4711:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky
to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to
investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
3rd Arodus, 4711:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution
has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my
theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll
leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass."
Several patches of Waya's fur are scorched away, blisters forming in patches of exposed skin. She begins licking her wounds, seated next to her halfling companion.
The wolf has 12 hp left out of 20.
Spreading out the books, you can see the title "On Verified Madness" on the black tome. The cover of the crimson volume is emblazoned with the symbol of a fly, its thorax resembling a skull. The title page says "Serving Your Hunger". The midnight blue book is embossed with a skull holding a length of chain in its jaw. The title page says "The Umbral Leaves".
Arasmes:
Spoiler:
You've never learned of this before... but the thing you're hosting has. What you hold in your hands is the Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye. The Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye is a secretive group with interests in all things arcane and political.
You also note the "Serving Your Hunger" is a holy book of Urgathoa. "The Umbral Leaves is a translation in Taldane of Zon Kuthon's holy text.
On Verified Madness is a treatise on aberrations, creatures of the Dark Tapestry and their worship...
The first tablet contains arcane magic: hold portal and identify. The other two are carved with divine spells: cure disease on one and shatter on the other. Each weighs about five pounds.
The well-oiled mechanism opens with a click and the top swings open. The musty smell of old books fills your nostrils as you look at the small pile of books within. The top most (and newest) has the words Read me now! scratched into the cover. Three more (one is black, one is a deep crimson and another is midnight blue) have notes tucked under the covers indicating they must be brought to Montangie Crowl, professor of Antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
The last book on the bottom is a rich purple and rimmed in steel. On the cover is a brass scarab with an eye in it's carapace. A tiny triangular keyhole sits next to the scarab in the book's cover. A note on the cover indicates that this is to be brought to Judge Embreth Daramid and gives her home address in Lepidstadt.
"Hmmmmm . . . yes," Luka replies to Arasmes' suggestion. "I'm not so sure he wants us reviewing those texts, although he did leave us the key. At the moment, I'm more interested in finding his journal, which could give us clues to his death, although it could well be among these books. But before we get ahead of ourselves, are we all all in favor of spending a month here in Ravengro as the good professor has asked? At the very least, although we've all be bequeathed quite a sum, the will does point out that it's not to be turned over before one month has passed. So, any objections? Kendra? What are your thoughts on this?"
"Well...", Kendra begins thoughtfully,"I wouldn't want to keep you if you have urgent business, Mr. Katic, but I certainly could use the company. I've lived in Lepidstadt my whole life, first with mother and father before father moved here and then during my time at University. I'm familiar with Ravengro, but, as you can tell, friendly faces are few and far between. It wouldn't be any trouble to put you all up on the second floor and I'm not a terrible cook. To be honest, it may be a relief having a full house while I decide what I would like to do with the house and father's library."
She stands, smoothing her dress with a sigh.
"In the meantime, I shall do as you ask, Mr. Arasmes. I believe I remember the trunk my father spoke of. I'll bring it down... but I'll leave the reading to you. If my father wished me to read its contents, he would have surely trusted it to me."
Kendra heads for the staircase near the front of the home. You can hear her, faintly, walking through the hall, opening a side door. She returns moments later with a small oak and iron trunk in the shape of a cube, no longer or taller than a man's forearm. A heavy lock latches it shut. Ms. Lorrimer puts the chest down on the table beside the iron key.
"I believe I'll retire upstairs for now and start making up the beds, assuming you'll all want to stay? I'll let you have the honor of opening the chest."
With any answers to the affirmative, Kendra returns upstairs and busies herself. The trunk sits on the table beside the iron key, patiently awaiting your attention.
"You're saying that... you think someone...", Kendra covers her mouth, looking awfully distressed. She takes a deep breath and sits down.
"I... I haven't been able to find his journal anywhere. Perhaps it's hidden or..."
A brief knock at the door interrupts your conversation. Kendra pulls herself together and answers the door, returning shortly with Councilman Hearthmount. The portly solicitor nods, his expression less than friendly but not hostile. He's holding a sealed scroll case.
"Are all of the principals present, Ms. Lorrimer? Very good. I will be brief.,"he says, holding up the scroll case, indicating with a finger for all present that the professor's personal seal is unbroken. With his thick fingers, he pries up the wax seal, tilting the scroll tube so that the will slides into a waiting hand. A small iron key clatters out of the case, coming to rest on a table. Nonplussed, Councilman Hearthmount begins to read the professor's will:
"I, Petros Lorrimer, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.
Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
To my old friends, I hate to impose on you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one's enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is a matter of another favor- please, delay your journey one month and spend the period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt- she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
I, Petros Lorrimer, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4711 AR."
The will having been read, Councillor Hearthmount rolls up the parchment once more and looks to Kendra.
"Thank you, Councillor. That will be all. Good night.", she says from where she sits in an armchair by the fire where she had been listening intently.
Hearthmount nods, donning his wide brimmed hat and departs your company.
Kendra looks up from lighting the fireplace.
"Thank you, though I certainly hope I won't be needing any sort of protection."
She rises, smoothing out her dress.
"My father... was found dead on the grounds of Harrowstone, the old prison south of Ravengro. The ruin has long been considered haunted, which may have aroused my father's curiosity. He... he was found crushed by a fallen gargoyle from the roof. The more ignorant locals had always been suspicious of father and I suppose finding him there was enough for them to confirm their suspicions and decide he was a necromancer."
Kua grunts as the flames singe his skin but the half orc grits his teeth and takes another swing at the rune. This time a little more carefully..
Attack 1d20+4
Damage 1d12+4
Apologies for the hold up everyone.
No problem. Since you rolled soon after I rolled for your PC I think I'll take your roll instead of mine just to finish the fight, unless everyone else objects.
Waya is seared by the sheet of flame while Kua escapes with a few burns. Badang's hands glow with light as he mends his own burns. Both Mara's crossbow bolt and Uwais' sling stone find their mark on the flying rune. While Yang pulls out his healing potion I'll leave it to your discretion if you use it Kua swings his greataxe with peerless accuracy, breaking the murderous rune on the stones.
Combat is over, good work! That's 135 XP each.
Arasmes looks through the assembled library. They're all tomes on history, art, culture, the planes, the gods- a wide variety of topics. While quite a few are rare and valuable, at a glance you're hard pressed to find anything that wasn't at the university in Cassomir in one form or another.
Wrath: 22 (Burning Hands- Kua and Waya)
Badang: 21 (Cure Light Wounds- self 7 hp, )
Sister Mara: 19 (reload, fire crossbow- hit 2 hp)
Yang: 18 (stable at 0)
Uwais: 17 (pending)
Kua and Waya: 16 (saves and actions pending)
Detressa: 15 (pending for other actions)
You all have a cure light wounds potion from your employer, by the way, in case Yang wants to use it. Or he could step back into a corner to catch his breath.
d'oh ... forgot about that.
Yang digs out the potion of clw he received earlier, getting ready to drink it ...
because I'm staggered, I think I can only retrieve the potion this round, and drink it next.
Ehh. I think it's a little silly to tack that on. It makes sense that you would put it somewhere safe for an emergency rather than at the bottom of your backpack. You can drink it this round... or just hold it to see if your comrades kill the rune if you want to hold onto it as long as possible.
Kendra leads you down the dirt road back toward town, passing fields and farms just ready for harvest as the moors grow more fertile. The road curves into town gradually as buildings start to cluster closer together the further you get from the Restlands. The professor's daughter leads you across a wooden bridge over a river running through town, past a wooden post covered in notices. On your left you pass a building with children clustered outside, jumping rope and playing tag. A shingle on the house says The Unfurling Scroll. The children stop playing as you pass, watching the small cluster of strangers with curiosity.
Further south, you pass into what must be the town square centered around a large wooden gazebo where a shaggy dog lazily sleeps beneath the steps.. People mill about at the various shops, finishing up some business: while they glance at you, their expressions are stonier than the childrens'. Going clockwise around the square are: Ravengro general store, The Outward Inn, the large Ravengro town hall, The Silk Purse, Ravengro forge (where a female dwarf with greying hair labors over the anvil, her wares set out on wooden tables before the open shop), Jominda's Apothecary and the Ravengro jail. Kendra leads you further south through the square, where the road is lined with simple wood and stone residences.
Just before another bridge over a tributary, Kendra takes a right turn toward a simple two story home and produces a key.
"This is father's home here in Ravengro. I cleaned up a bit before the funeral, but it's mostly as he left it. Father's strong suit was scholarship, not housework."
The wooden door creaks open into a foyer where you can leave your cloaks, heavy weapons and packs. Further into the home, the walls are lined with shelf after shelf of books. Just about exactly the kind of home you pictured for your departed friend. Kendra lights a lantern against the creeping twilight and busies herself starting a fire in the study/sitting room. She gestures to the couches and armchairs arranged around a low table.
"Please, have a seat. I'll bring some drinks in a moment. I believe my father had some brandy and some wine stored. I also had some milk and cider delivered from the general store. Are you hungry? I'm not much of a cook but we have a few simple things I can unpack for you..."
When Trevor finishes his speech, there is some quiet applause from Kendra and the other mourners. Even the dour Father Grimburrow seems to approve.
Leaving the gravediggers to ply their trade, you walk with the rest of the mourners from Professor Lorrimer's grave. As is local custom, you walk in silence until you exit the Restlands, not looking back. Kendra walks tall and though she isn't exactly skipping, it does seem that she takes comfort from your presence.
Outside the stone walls of the Restlands, Kendra turns to the assembled mourners.
"Thank you all one last time for joining me."
The stocky man with the mustache (who held the professor's coffin with you) and his son approach Kendra and take her hands.
"Your father was a fine man, miss, and it was my privilege to serve him while he was here.", he says.
Kendra nods, managing a small smile,"Thank you, Mr. Elkarid. And you too, Pevrin. Father always spoke so highly of your cooking."
The man forces a genial expression,"Now, now, Miss Lorrimer, you and your young friends should call me Zokar. When you're ready for a good meal and some spirits, you be sure to come by the Laughing Demon."
With a nod, the tavernkeeper and his young son depart south on the road back into town.
The other woman in the procession bids her farewell to Kendra as well.
"Should you need anything at all, Kendra, don't hesitate to stop by my shop. I have a number of excellent remedies to aid your sleeping or calm your nerves while you sort out your dear father's affairs."
"Thank you, Jominda, I will be sure to stop by."
Finally the two councillors, short and round Hearthmount and the tall Councillor Muricar offer their own condolences.
"My dear, please don't hesitate to drop by should you require any sort of attention.", says Muricar,"I'm known around these parts for my open-door policy, after all."
Hearthmount nudges the other councillor in the ribs, giving his friend a disapproving glance.
"What Gharen means, Miss Lorrimer, is that we are ever at your disposal. I have a few matters to finalize in town but I will be sure to stop by your father's home to read the will shortly."
Kendra nods.
"That will be fine, Councillor. We will see you soon."
And with that, the six of you are alone.
"It was wonderful of you all to speak for my father. Please, let us return to his home so we can speak in private and have a drink before Councillor Hearthmount reads my father's will. You've all come so far, I'm sure you could use a rest."
Initiative- round 4
Wrath: 22 (Burning Hands- Kua and Waya)
Badang: 21 (Cure Light Wounds- self 7 hp, )
Sister Mara: 19 (reload, fire crossbow- hit 2 hp)
Yang: 18 (stable at 0)
Uwais: 17 (pending)
Kua and Waya: 16 (saves and actions pending)
Detressa: 15 (pending for other actions)
You all have a cure light wounds potion from your employer, by the way, in case Yang wants to use it. Or he could step back into a corner to catch his breath.
Coffin shouldered securely, you finish the procession to Professor Lorrimer's newly dug grave. You lower the casket reverentially into the earth, Kendra and Father Grimburrow standing near the headstone. The other mourners bow their heads in prayer as the Father begins his short sermon. The gravediggers keep a respectful distance, shovels lowered tip first to the ground.
"Today we lay to rest the noble Professor Petros Lorrimer, teacher, arcanist and archaeologist. His struggles against the shadows that plague Ustalav and other places near and far as well as his work to catalogue such challenges for future generations remain an enduring legacy to his bravery and spirit. Let us commend him to the Lady of Graves, that she might remember how often he placed himself in peril doing Her work."
Father Grimburrow splashes the casket with holy water once.
"She was with you, Petros Lorrimer, in the waters of birth."
He splashes the casket again.
"She tuned the strands of Fate that made up your life, for better and worse."
He splashes the coffin a third and final time.
"And finally you will come to her and she will know you from her throne in the Boneyard. Speed you thus, Petros Lorrimer, and fear not her judgement."
The Father bows his head for a moment of silence following his benediction. A whippoorwill trills from a nearby branch and the superstitious trace a spiral on their chest with one finger.
Grimburrow nods, ending the silence.
"Ms. Lorrimer, would you like to say a few words about your father?"
Kendra nods, her chin quivering.
"My father...", she begins before a sob caught in her throat threatens to break out. Gripping her handkerchief, she continues.
"My father always sought to bring light and understanding to every corner of the world. He made friends far and wide, regardless of race, society or religion and his students number among the wisest of learned men. While he loved his teaching, he often took a more active role, protecting the innocent not only from ignorance but also from more sinister threats as well. His aid proved instrumental when the people of Carrion Hill were beset by a creature of foul magic of the Dark Tapestry and the cult that summoned it. When the church of Abadar's vault was breached and ancient swords of power were taken up for foul purpose, my father and his allies ventured to lawless Kaer Maga to retrieve them. He was a man of peace, but when courage was required, he did not have it in short supply even into his old age. But I will always remember him first as a loving and devoted father."
Kendra pauses, dabbing her red and puffy eyes.
"Thank you all again for coming. I am sure he would be pleased to see each of you here now."
The professor's daughter is quiet and a hush falls over the gathered mourners.
Would you like to say something about the professor? Feel free to make a diplomacy or perform check for a particularly stirring eulogy.
Looking down at Hephenus' motionless form, Evelyn, sheathes her sword.
"Well, he wont be causing trouble any time soon. Perhaps we can even arrange for some new quarters for him and his friends, the sheriffs place maybe?"
And maybe the sheriff can tell me what all this talk of necromancy is. Hopefully it's just some misguided idiot farmers, and nothing serious
As the crowd disperses, leaving the wounded and unconscious, you can see a tall old man dressed in black running toward you from the other end of the Dreamwake, two stout gravediggers behind him.
Councillor Hearthmount clears his throat.
"Well, I should think the sound thrashing you have dealt them would be punishment enough.", he begins, before adding,"If you wish to press charges, however, I can speak to the sheriff when the funeral is over. Though I can attest that all of these farmhands are men of low character, I had never thought they would be so disrespectful!"
The other well-dressed mourner nods.
"Aye, truly foul. A disgrace to Pharasma and Ravengro alike."
Alison and Kendra take a look at the wounded- Hephenus is out cold, but he'll have nothing more serious than a welt on the back of his head come tomorrow. The other five are all rather wounded by the bomb with bloody and burnt limbs. They crawl away from you as quickly as they can, fear and shame replacing the anger they felt a moment prior.
The tall old man reaches your group finally. He's tall and thin with a bald head, clean shaven face and bushy eyebrows. His ears and nose are comically large, but his severe expression dries out any humor you may have felt at his appearance. Around his neck is the spiral symbol of Pharasma, a leather bound book and flask of holy water gripped in his left hand.
"What is the meaning of this?!", he demands.
"These men sought to bar our passage to my father's plot, Father Grimburrow.", explains Kendra. The councillor nods as the priest takes in the scene with his hard eyes.
"Gather close.", sighs the priest speaking to the chagrined thugs,"Much as you should suffer for your foolishness and lack of respect, you will not leave this place wounded."
Gripping his holy amulet, Father Grimburrow intones a chant in Varisian to Pharasma, waves of cold energy emanating from him. The thugs' wounds knit before your eyes and the priest sends them off with a glare. Hephenus is the last to leave, slinking off with a glare at Evelyn.
"I'm so sorry for all this,"says Kendra,"thank you for stepping in on my behalf. I wish they had listened to your appeals for peace, but I can't say I regret seeing them put in their place after what they said about father."
Father Grimburrow holds his holy book over his chest.
"Shall we proceed, my child?", he asks evenly.
Kendra nods and the procession resumes.
I'll update some more tonight after you guys have a chance to roleplay if you like.
Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Will hold my horses in the future. Here's the proper version of events.
As the pallbearers lower the professor, Kendra incants a spell while gripping an amulet around her neck. Finishing up by blowing sand at the oncoming thugs, you watch as each falls snoring to the ground. Hephenus, their leader continues his advance along with two more alert thugs. Before they can reach Lorrimer's daughter, Alison tosses a flask of something into their midst. The bomb explodes, throwing chunks of earth and surprised farmers every which way. Many lay moaning on the ground, clutching broken limbs. Others just lay prostrate and silent. Farmers are at 0 hp.
Hephenus continues forward, lunging at Evelyn with his pitchfork. But she sidesteps his assault, hitting the back of his head with the pommel of her sword. He hits the ground like a sack of potatoes, out cold.
"Desna's grace!," exclaims the pudgy councilman in the procession (Hearthmount, you think his name was),"I knew there were some... concerns but I didn't think it would come to violence!
Initiative
Wrath: 22 (Burning Hands B and Y)
Badang: 21 (unconscious)
Sister Mara: 19 (reload and fire crossbow- miss)
Yang: 18 (unconscious)
Uwais: 17 (Sling attack- miss)
Kua and Waya: 16 (K- Move, Greataxe attack- miss; W- Move, bite- hit 4 hp)
Detressa: 15 ( Move, Channel positive- 3 hp)
The sheet of flames sear Badang and Yangzhun to the quick and both fall smoking to the ground. Sister Mara winches back her crossbow and looses a bolt only to see the shot go wide, hitting the south wall and breaking. Uwais launches a sling stone at the flying rune, but overshoots the mark. Kua makes a powerful blow, throwing his attack wide of the mark. Sparks fly as his axe glances the stone. Waya leaps at the rune, biting hard into the tough stone, cracking it under her powerful jaws.
Detressa exudes a wave of energy, bending fate around her comrades and healing their burns.
The rune turns on Waya and Kua, unleashing another sheet of flames.
Burning hands: 3d4 ⇒ (3, 1, 4) = 8 Kua and Waya, reflex save for half damage. Sorry I haven't been able to update the map.
This may be somewhat of a retcon since I lumped everyone together. The coffin requires two hands to hold, even with four people and it's a full-round to put it down. I had assumed Luka, Trevor, Evelyn and Arasmes were bearing the coffin. If a townsperson grabbed hold, we could say that Evelyn isn't carrying the coffin. But if Luka casts a spell, that's one side that slips. I may ask for a Strength check, but there is a chance the professor will fall out.
The Wrath rune flies toward the wall A9 on the map angling to catch Badang and Yang with another sheet of flame.
Burning Hands- Reflex for half damage: 3d4 ⇒ (4, 4, 3) = 11
"This is our cemetery and our business! If you won't take him out, by Desna we will!"
Six of the townsfolk advance, farming implements at the ready. The leader of the group goes straight for Evelyn.
I'll need initiative rolls. It's a full-round action to put the casket down. You could do it faster, but the professor may fall out.
The pudgy man in the procession blusters,"Hephenus! The sheriff will hear of this! Stop this madness at once!"
Kendra takes one step back, holding an amulet around her neck and muttering incantations. Sleep vs. Farmers.
Farmer saves: 1d20 ⇒ 12
1d20 ⇒ 6
1d20 ⇒ 3
1d20 ⇒ 20
Three immediately close their eyes, falling to the ground in snoring heaps. Hephenus, their leader, continues on his course as his remaining allies go for Kendra after her display of magic.
Attack vs. Evelyn (subdual): 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (17) - 3 = 14
I'm going to assume that Evelyn will take a place, just in the interest in keeping things moving. Pallbearers have both hands full.
The three strangers take up positions beside the casket, only to be joined by the stocky man from the knot of villagers, his young son trailing after. The four heave the good professor and his heavy casket up to shoulder height and follow Kendra along the gravel path through the Restlands. As you pass the mausoleums closest to the entrance on your left, the lad studies you through the corner of his eye with a mixture of curiosity and fear. From Luka and Alison, with their very pale skin and dark hair, to the unkempt scholar with the aura of strangeness Arasmes. Even Trevor and Evelyn elicit study: a lad barely older than the boy dressed in a bigger man's armor and a woman wearing men's clothes, of all things. Surely the Professor couldn't have asked for a stranger procession- at least, by Ravengro's standards.
Around the mausoleums, Kendra leads the procession down a left turn, a path named "The Dreamwake" by a small marker nearby. The path curves through the Restlands and the rows of carven headstones throughout the fenced in moorland.
As Kendra leads you on a right turn onto a path named "The Eversleep" you note a group of villagers standing to block the path not ten feet away. About a dozen rugged looking men with farm tools stand awaiting your procession. The elderly fellow in the lead, the tallest of the lot with a wiry build speaks up.
"That's far enough! We been talking, and we don't want Lorrimer buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain't goin' in the ground here!"
Even watching Ms. Lorrimer's back, you can tell she's already furious as soon as the man gets the words out. Her shoulders tense, her hands balled into fists around her handkerchief.
What are you talking about? I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been..."
"You don't get it, woman! We won't have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now."
"Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?"
The man in front scowls, grip tightening on his pitchfork. Other men grip hoes and sickles, expressions darkening. This could rapidly get out of hand...
Actions?
Initiative
Wrath and Pride: 22
Badang: 21
Sister Mara: 19
Yang: 18
Uwais: 17
Kua and Waya: 16
Detressa: 15
Detressa presses herself against the closest wall before the sheet of fire, managing to escape with a singe. Badang, however takes the blaze full in the chest, seared by the tongues of flame.
Badang takes 6 damage, Detressa takes 3
At the first flare of colors, Sister Mara instinctively closes her eyes, turning her head away from the dispaly for good measure. Save successful.
Blinded by pain, the oracle swings wildly but misses the tiny rune. With an expertly aimed shot, Sister Mara's bolt flies true. While she would have skewered a larger target, the rune is chipped and thrown off balance momentarily. Yang's missile has similar results, though it's difficult to tell if the attack harmed the flying object. I need a caster level check, since I believe that's considered a spell-like ability.
Uwais is frustrated by the weaving rune, his sling stone missing the mark and chipping another carving before falling to the ground. Waya races forward, leaping to catch the carving in her mouth but just misses as the tiny thing flies right around her. Kua bellows, bringing his greatxe to bear on the annoying decoration.
And sunders the rune in a solid hit, blowing it to pieces of mere stone and dust on the floor. Pride is done for. Detressa concentrates, drawing the ambient chill of the Ossuary into herself and pooling it in her fingertips, flicking her wrist to throw the icicle that forms directly into the floating symbol of Wrath. I'll need a caster level check for you as well, D.
Kendra nods.
"Yes, this is Petros Lorrimer's funeral. Thank you for coming, I believe you're just in time-"
As if to underscore her statement, the bells in the small temple further in the Restlands peel out three o'clock. It's time to lay the Professor to his earthly rest.
According to Ustalavic custom, the deceased's closest relatives lead the procession to his grave where the local priest of Pharasma waits to bless his journey to the Boneyard. The coffin is carried by close friends and colleagues or male relatives. None of the villagers have yet come forward to carry the good Professor's coffin- will any of you take the honor upon yourselves? At least four pallbearers are needed.
"kendra, your father was a dear colleauge, and about as close to a friend as I had, being here seems the least I could do. If there is anyhting you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Miss. I greatly appreciate it.", she turns to Luka,"I had thought so as well, sirrah, but so far you are the only people of his acquaintance outside of Ravengro to show up."
She wipes her eyes.
"I'm sorry. It does my father no good to be bitter. What matters is that you are here now to pay your respects and I'm certain my father is pleased."
I also didn't explain well enough- the detachable rune in the spoiler isn't flying around the room. That one stayed put, it's two runes that looked completely carved in that have taken flight to hypnotize and set you on fire.
OK, I may have misunderstood. In my spoiler, you said that Yang saw ** spoiler omitted **
I also didn't explain well enough- the detachable rune in the spoiler isn't flying around the room. That one stayed put, it's two runes that looked completely carved in that have taken flight to hypnotize and set you on fire.
When you all move to join the other mourners, they give you only the barest hint of acknowledgment. Slowly, they shuffle together, "pulling their wagons" so to speak. The rest of you are lumped together, the small band of outsiders.
Lorrimer's daughter, however, is much more receptive. She gracefully courtsies to Arasmes and Luka. She looks over to Evelyn and Alison as well as she speaks.
"Thank you. My name is Kendra Lorrimer. Thank all of you for coming. I had feared none of my father's friends and colleauges would join me to bid him farewell. And with things the way they are in town these days, not many of his neighbors have come to pay respects either."
Well, we did group initiative before but if you guys prefer individual we'll go with that. Just waiting on Kua's action and I'll get the round resolved.
Your long journey to the town of Ravengro is finally at an end, begun those many days ago when a messenger brought you a summons stating that your old friend Professor Petros Lorrimer is dead and had named you as a principal in his will. Though each of you has your own fond memories of the professor, you never expected to be named in his will. However, the news of his passing has affected you enough that each of you made arrangements to leave the task at hand, buckled on your boots, and set forth through the waning days of summer toward the small town of Ravengro.
Ravengro sits near Lake Lias in western Ustalav, in the county of Canterwall- breadbasket of the confederacy. Passing through the fields, moors and groves of this fertile land, you saw many a farmer, tradesman or merchant on your path. Few, however, had anything to say to even the warmest greeting. Even after arriving in town it took a bit of asking around to get proper directions to the Restlands- the moorland to the north set aside for the dead in Ravengro, where Professor Lorrimer will be layed to his final rest. On the road to the cemetery, you can't help but notice the looming keep or manor house standing silently south of the town. The seemingly decrepit structure squats silently atop a hill, a baleful sentinel over the small town.
The Restlands are fenced in with high stone walls with multiple paths winding through its many openings. Clustered around the large main entrance is a small group of people: an overweight older man with a thin mustache stands with a slimmer man with aquiline features and grey in his temples. Both are dressed in dark and well-tailored clothing, fanning themselves solemnly with the broad-brimmed hats favored in this region. A stocky man with a wide, friendly face and a thick mustache stands with a hand on the shoulder of a lad of about thirteen with a clear resemblance to the older man while a woman in her thirties stands near the stone wall, her arms crossed over her conservative dark dress.
Laying on several short logs is the Professor's casket- a dark polished oak box to transmit his earthly remains. Standing closest to that is a young woman dressed in dark clothing. She is trim and attractive despite the redness and puffiness around her eyes. She dabs her cheek with a handkerchief and looks to the sky with moist eyes. This must be the Professor's daughter you had heard about.
The other mourners in the party nod warily as you approach, covered with the dust of the road and with your weapons and packs still close at hand. They offer no other greeting. The young lady by the casket snaps from her reverie to watch your approach, her eyebrows rising hopefully.
Okay, feel free to introduce yourselves as you like.
Rune Initiative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22 Okay, Runes, Badang, Mara and down the line from there. Round 1 Map
As you prepare your attacks, the floating rune to the south sprays a sheet of fire on Detressa and Badang. Reflex saves for half damage, please- this effect is the red cone on the bottom.
Fire attack: 3d4 ⇒ (1, 4, 1) = 6
While the rune to the north near Sister Mara unleashes a cone of vivid clashing colors that overwhelm her senses.
That's the blue cone- Will save please, Sister Mara.
As you're examining the archives, you're amazed to see two stone carved runes detach from the walls, one on each end of the room. They circle high toward the ceiling, before diving in toward the adventurers.
Please roll initiative and give me a first round action. The room is 15 feet wide by 60 feet long, one enemy on each end. I will post a map with coordinates tonight.
Detressa can see from a quick look that none of the markings are Pharasmin- this may be a secular archive. The writing itself is neither Varisian, Shoanti or Infernal; furthermore, after employing an orison to read magic, she finds that the writing isn't of a magical nature either.
When you call upon Pharasma for the gift of languages, however, the carvings begin to make sense. Both the wall carvings and the tablets have to do with daily life in ancient Thassilon as well as historical texts, religious treatises and arcane grimoires on the history and magic of ancient Thassilon. It would take many uses of the spell to pore through all the information here.
Perception DC 15:
Spoiler:
There is a symbol on the wall that seems different from the rest.
Perception (Search) DC 20:
Spoiler:
A thorough look through the stone tablets turns up three that aren't in the strange ancient language, but rather the universal language of magic.
There are lots of stone tablets in the room (which measures about 15 by sixty, the corners rounded carefully)- at least 50 heavy stone tablets, not to mention all the runes and carvings on the walls. Badang looks through a handful of them- they're in a strange language that he can't recognize. It would take a long time to get through all of them.
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