It was a dark and stormy night...
Dark clouds blotch the sky, leaving what would normally be a adequately lit evening look like the dead of night, sparks of lightning streak far off in the distance with a low rumble several seconds later. Darkness stretches through the sky hold for a faint line of orange on the horizon. Water spits at you from above, not enough to soak your clothes, but enough to make you damp and uncomfortable. After such a long travel to get here, and now you stand waiting. You have had better days... but at least you made it on-time.
A few locals are also meandering the yard just outside of a tomb, they have long somber faces, displaying more boredom than mourning. Within the tomb, you notice what seems to be clergymen, dressed in brown drab robes, seemingly preparing a coffin for transport. Also, a young woman stands aside from them, onlooking the process. The woman's face is mournful, with red puffy eyes.
--The weather is terrible here, the skies seem lower, and the colours duller than the Mwangi Expanse. And this is a funeral? Where is the music? Or dancing? Or women screaming? Where will the food be?
-Mubutu looks around at the priests and the young woman. He doesn't really know what to say or do. For the last 2 months he had been travelling, and he wasn't happy to find out the professor is the man in the box going in the ground. Why was he supposed to come here anyway?
-Finally he decides enough wasting time...and says to the young woman
So ye be who, I no be sabi to this ting? Is ye knowing the dead man? I and I isn't no around here from and ting... His voice is deep, and calm, and his thickly accented speech marks him as a native polyglot speaker...
-He leans on his quarterstaff,and waits for her reply...
Maya finds herself leaning against a tree, arms crossed, trying to asses the situation from afar. She is observing the clergymen, attempting to get a glance of the body in the coffin. She looks behind her shoulder momentarily, making sure noone is watching her.
A strange half-orc steps up to ask questions and she is intrigued.
"Heh, this guy must be new around here", she thought to herself.
The woman staring at the coffin was deep in thought when Mubutu approached. Startled for a split second, she quickly regains composure and responds to Mubutu's question with a smile.
"My name is Kendra Lorrimor, Petros Lorrimor was my father." Kendra sniffing hard a few times to try and hold back her tears.
"My father's funeral is about to go underway, It is custom here in Ustalav to bury the flesh and bones so that none may disturb him while he sleeps eternal."
She then utters some words that would be unknown to most.
Kendra smiles at Mubutu, and lays a hand on his shoulder. She curtsies and takes her leave of him and approaches the meandering group on the yard. She stands upright, and speaks in a way that carries her voice well.
"Hello everyone, thank you all for coming. We are about to go underway with the procession, and as is custom, I ask for volunteers to help carry my father to his final place of rest..." Kendra waits a few seconds, and she sees that the locals are not at all interested in lugging Lorrimor's coffin across the cemetery to his burial spot. Kendra is obvioulsy distressed by this, but she stands strong.
Blasted rain. As if things couldn't get worse. Damn you, Lorrimor - why'd you have to go and die?
A man of average height lingers along the outer fringe of the group, his cloak pulled up to shield him from the spattering drops of rain. His gaze remains hotly fixed on the coffin though, and he re-positions himself whenever his view is blocked by other mourners.
A young woman, bearing a striking resemblance to the lately departed, rouses Dantrian from his grim reverie with her call for volunteers. Muttering under his breath, he raises his hand.
"I shall volunteer, my dear. Though I do so hope there are other generous minds present." None as generous as you were, you twice-damned loon. What am I supposed to do now?
-Mubutu is shocked to be greeted in his own language and replies
--He continues in his patoisAre ye going to be putting the man in the cold wet ground? I and I no be aliking this great much. But this is the everyday normal hing, seen?And if ye be wanting I and I to be a carrying the man, I be doing this ting.
--He stashes his staff on his back, and waits for other to help him lift the coffin.
-
A horse-drawn carriage pulls up and stops on the road outside the cemetery. A distinguishedly dressed and cloaked gentleman - hood pulled up and obscuring his features - exits the carriage and turns to tip the driver. Transaction completed, the gentleman respectfully nods to the driver as the carriage pulls away.
The gentleman turns and approaches the group of people gathered at the gate leading into the cemetery, an intricately carved walking stick tap-tap-tapping on the cobblestones as he walks. Beneath the cloak it is obvious that the gentleman is impeccably dressed in a finely tailored long jacket, wool vest, soft leather breeches, and spotless white linen shirt with a smartly knotted silk cravat.
"Oh dear. I hope I'm not too late!" the gentleman exclaims - albeit in a subdued tone - as he retrieves a silk handkerchief from a vest pocket and coughs softly into it while quickly taking stock of each person gathered. "I'm afraid this weather is not beneficial to my constitution," he adds as he replaces the handkerchief in his pocket.
"But forgive me. You must be Kendra, the good Professor's daughter. He spoke of you often," the gentleman says to the strikingly beautiful yet obviously bereaved young woman. He lowers his hood to unexpectedly reveal the bestial face of a male half-orc, a delicate pair of pince-nez incongruously perched upon his nose and a handsome bowler atop his head. "My name is Korvus Slade, a former student of your father's from Magnimar," the half-orc introduces himself, doffing his hat and bowing his head. "I am so sorry for your loss."
Korvus glances about and quickly takes stock of the situation, nodding respectfully to the human male and - surprise! another half-orc! - taking up position as pallbearers for the Professor's coffin. "If it please you, Lady Lorrimor, I would be honored to serve as a pallbearer alongside these fine gentlemen as well," Korvus says, bowing his head again to Kendra.
--What is this creature...why is he dressed so oddly?
--Mubutu asks him
--Mubutu looks around for some white dirt, which he then smears on his face in the shape of a skull. With his black skin, this gives his face a ghastly, almost evil appearance.
-He then procedes to take out his drum, which he begins beating, and starts dancing and yelling
perform: dance check
perfom: drum check
-The half-orc leaps around, drum beating wildly...He begins to sing a song which sounds pretty evil...
Hey, hey, Angazhan,
Great Evil Spirit,
Let his soul go
Hey, Do Not Eat his flesh
Do not break His bones
Spirits come and take his soul
Do not come here, Orcus
You are not wanted, oh no
Be gone be gone be gone
Light banish you oh undead
Evil Prince of the Abyss, Orcus
You are not wanted here
Out,out out out
Lamashtu, mother dark and terrible
This child is not yours
Do not take him to your embrace
You are not wanted here, foul mother
Be gone, be gone, be gone
Gozreh come and take him
Gozreh grant him rest
Gozreh grant him peace
Gozreh hear me!
Spirits bind him!
Oh! Oh! Hey Oh!
At the end he repeats the same song, but this time in Orc
Hey, hey, Angazhan,
Great Evil Spirit,
Let his soul go
Hey, Do Not Eat his flesh
Do not break His bones
Spirits come and take his soul
Do not come here, Orcus
You are not wanted, oh no
Be gone be gone be gone
Light banish you oh undead
Evil Prince of the Abyss, Orcus
You are not wanted here
Out,out out out
Lamashtu, mother dark and terrible
This child is not yours
Do not take him to your embrace
You are not wanted here, foul mother
Be gone, be gone, be gone
Gozreh come and take him
Gozreh grant him rest
Gozreh grant him peace
Gozreh hear me!
Spirits bind him!
Oh! Oh! Hey Oh!
Dantrian's head whips around to observe the half-orc's savage funerary rite, though he keeps his hood up. From within the cowl his voice harshly whispers, "Here now! This is no time for your savage rites! We are in Ustalav, not the thrice-damned Mwangi Expanse! Silence yourself, you crude brute, before you scare the rest of the town so much they join the Professor in the Boneyard!"
Korvus replies to the other half-orc's greeting in the same language.
As the other half-orc conducts his own funerary ritual, a small blackbird sails down from the sky, alights on Korvus shoulder, and begins to sing along in a melodious yet mournful warble. Korvus seems to take no notice of the bird, but begins to provide an explanation of the dancing and drumming half-orc's rite for the others.
"He is warding away evil spirits and calling upon the blessings of Gozreh to ensure the safety of the Professor's soul," Korvus announces solemnly. "Here is the translation:"
"Hey, hey, Angazhan,
Great Evil Spirit,
Let his soul go
Hey, Do Not Eat his flesh
Do not break His bones
Spirits come and take his soul
Do not come here, Orcus
You are not wanted, oh no
Be gone be gone be gone
Light banish you oh undead
Evil Prince of the Abyss, Orcus
You are not wanted here
Out,out out out
Lamashtu, mother dark and terrible
This child is not yours
Do not take him to your embrace
You are not wanted here, foul mother
Be gone, be gone, be gone
Gozreh come and take him
Gozreh grant him rest
Gozreh grant him peace
Gozreh hear me!
Spirits bind him!
Oh! Oh! Hey Oh!"
"Here now! This is no time for your savage rites! We are in Ustalav, not the thrice-damned Mwangi Expanse! Silence yourself, you crude brute, before you scare the rest of the town so much they join the Professor in the Boneyard!"
Korvus peers over the top of his pince-nez at the human's harsh whisper. "Here now, goodsir. While this gentleman's ritual may seem strange to us, the rituals of this land are equally strange to him. He is merely offering the benediction of his people to see his friend's soul safely to its eternal rest. I should think such blessings would be welcome here, regardless of their source."
-At the conclusion of his dance, the half orc falls to his knees and screams at the sky ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
-He then rises to his feet, puts the drum back in his pack and says
Now I think the spirts be a leaving he alone, sabi? He was a good man, and he knew the spirits be a mighty powerful ting when they vexed. I don't wnat no spirits to be vexing our friend, sabi? All over this land and ting I be feeling the vexed spirits. They be angry and ting. The dead not be so happy and ting, I don't think the be a resting. I think the spirits of this land be great vexed and ting... He says in Orc
--If Mubutu had noticed the man's displeasure, he hasn't shown it.
As the rain splashes off the hood of his cloak, Dantrian watches as Mubutu continues his loud and animated ritual. Admonished by Korvus, he shakes his head and turns to regard the small crowd of mourners.
Gods I hope we're not the only pallbearers today. These half-orcs are liable to get us stoned to death.
--With nothing else to do, the witch-doctor crosses his arms over his chest, and looks around. The rain beating on his head. He looks tired from his dancing and jumping, and feels slighty awkward
--I did not expect these waga-waga to understand me. But I swore to help you one day. Now it is too late, and I must honor you as a true friend, Bwana. I shall miss you.
"My, what a peculiar set of individuals we have here. Two orcs, one who seems to have traveled quite far to get here, and another dressed in finer silks that the best ones I have stolen in the past. It's like perfect juxtapositions. The Professor sure had some strange acquaintances."
After hiding under the tree silent for long enough, the half-elven woman pulls her raincloak a bit tighter and says calmly to Kendra "Lady Lorrimor, I am a bit stronger than you may think, and will volunteer to carry your father. Looks like this human fellow can use a hand." Maya lets out a slight smirk towards Dantrian.
The hooded man nods at Maya's words but doesn't turn his head to regard her - his gaze remains fixed out somewhere in the crowd. Nevertheless, he responds dryly to Maya's greeting, "Indeed."
--I and I be finding you two being a great heap quiet...No, sabi? When we gonna be a carrying his big box into the cold cold ground? He grins at the half-elf.
Cassandra approaches the group of mourners, her travelling cloak turned up against the weather, a pair of smoked lenses cover her eyes despite the gloom, a tear or perhaps a raindrop rolls down her cheek from underneath the glasses. Her normally long raven hair, a stark contrast to her pale skin, is pulled into a severe bun, as befits the occasion.
Approaching Kendra, Cassandra takes her hands into hers and says "Mistress Lorimor, I am Cassandra Blackmoore. Your father was a great man and I would gladly assist you in this ceremony in whatever capacity you need."
Dantrian wordlessly regards the tribal half-orc as he addresses the half-elf. Shaking his cowled head once more, he then turns to regard Cassandra as she approaches. After she has volunteered, Dantrian's gaze occasionally shifts back and forth between the casket and Kendra as he waits mournfully for the procession to begin.
During Mubutu's ritual dance, the lingering crowd begin's to step back. The locals form a semi-circle around Mubutu, both looking on in confusion, and some with their hand over their mouths in shock. Already you can see the people in the back begin their whispers to each other about the spectacle.
Kendra also holds a surprise look when Mubutu begins his dance. An eventual understanding occurs as she realizes that Mubutu is performing a traditional Mwangi blessing of the dead. She looks on intently, and thanks Mubutu when the dance is finished.
Out of the semi-circle, our five outsiders show themselves. With all showing there willingness to assist in the late Lorrimor's funeral, Kendra begins to smile sincerley. You also notice Kendra's eyes move over you, and you get a sense of Kendra's rising curiosity. She has the same excited look the Late Professor would have when he was about to discover something he had not known. She is markedly her father's daughter.
Almost instantly Kendra's mood returns to her previous somberness."Thank you all for coming! I was getting worried. No one else from out of town had come to my Father's burial. Very few from Ravengro have come as well, but I understand. Y'know with how things are these days, people's superstitions have taken hold..."
--I be thinking it strange and ting, how nobody be wanting to go to put the professor in the cold cold ground. Sabi? Why they a no wanting to help and ting? I be thinking Professor was a great man, great bwana. I be mighty vexed with these people Sabi?
--I think the people don't like the professor much, but why? Look how many friends he has? Orcs, Humans, Elves, all here...Mubutu is puzzled. But the ways of the Ustalav people were VERY odd.
Dantrian nods at Kendra's words, "Indeed. Fear is a powerful thing."
Isn't it just?
He sighs softly then, his head dropping slightly as he lowers his gaze to the coffin once more. He then quietly shifts around to take up his position as a pall-bearer. Looking over the other volunteers, he decides to stand in a corner opposite the half-elf.
hmmm - She looks like she can hold her own - more so than these orc-blooded fellows. Standing opposite her should distribute the weight a bit more evenly.
"Your father was a great man and a great teacher. I feel priviledged to serve as one of his pallbearers," Korvus says in a voice that begins to crack with emotion.
The dapper half-orc stows his walking stick within a pocket in his cloak and takes a position on the opposite side of the coffin from the other half-orc, the small blackbird still perched quietly on his shoulder.
"Mental note: ask Kendra about these superstitions that she says have been taking hold after the funeral. Wondering if they are just general superstitions or related to the Professor."
Kendra smiles sweetley at everyone who has volunteered to be a pallbearer for her father's funeral. Nodding her head at your comments and directing her gaze towards Mubutu."My father has always been a popular man, but somethings, especially those involved in the Arcane, are seen poorly in the eyes of the ill-informed. Sadly, things here are such that these rumors have taken hold as possibly true. And that seems to be enough for some people."
Kendra looks towards the cemetary, takes a deep breath and makes a dismissive hand gesture. "But, let's leave such topics for another day... Shall we begin?"
At that, the clergyman within the tomb set the Coffin at the ready infront of the gate that leads deeper into the cemetary. A dingy sign, marked by years of neglect and rust swings limply in the rain. 'Dreamwake' is written on it in common. A gravel pathway leads through the gate, and apparently towards your destination of Professor Lorrimor's grave.
All of you are able to lift the coffin of your late friend with relative ease. Although using two hands is required. Kendra takes the lead of the procession, being the closest living relative Lorrimor has. the heroes follow closley in line, with the other mourners staying back behind you.
It gets darker and the rain beats down on your heads harder as you progress.
The gravel road winds through the cemetary. About at the half-way point through the dreamwake, you round a corner onto another gravel path, called the eversleep. However, something is amiss. A group of a dozen surly looking locals stands in the way of the path.
The tallest of the group, and elderly and wiry looking mans stands at the centre of the path. He stands firm and begins to speak once he notices the group approaching.
"Now now, that's a-far enough. Now we folks have been talkin', and we don't want Lorrimor buried in these here Restlands. You can take him up river and bury him there if you want... But he ain't goin in the ground here!!"
Kendra was swift to respond, her sadness quickly transforming into anger. "What are you talking about!?" She cries out. " I arranged it with Father Grimburrow! He's ecpecting us! The grave's already been..." Kendra voice ends when her voice cracked, choked with sadness and frustration.
The opposing locals seem rallied by the old one's words, and make their agreeance known.
-The tall half-orc looks around. He pauses in thoughtI don't understand these people at all. First we put him in a box, and we put the box with the other people in a box in the same place. Now they want us to put his box in another place, when clearly this is the place you put boxes of dead people.
-He takes in the leader of the 'mob'and pauses What is this? The chief? He doesn't seem to inspire much courage. I bet I could set half of these men on fire and the other half would run away...but I really have no desire to kill anybody today. One funeral is enough for Mubutu
-He waits to see what actions the others will take...
"These people are more scared than angry," Korvus whispers to his fellow pallbearers. "Although the elderly gentlemen appears to be the one who rallied this group together."
"Please, good people of Ravengro!" Korvus calls out to the mob in a friendly tone. "As Lady Lorrimor stated, the good Professor's burial here has been authorized and blessed by the holy Father Grimburrow! Certainly none of us here wish to challenge the authority of the goodly priest who has been divinely charged with the protection of your souls, do we?"
Dantrian stands quietly, watching as Korvus attempts to parlay with the villagers in the rain.
Scared? He thinks they're scared? They look down right murderous to me.
"Ladies and gentlemen, have we succumbed that quickly to rumors and old wive's tales in Ustlav! Is this the mettle of its people? This man is one of us, and he deserves to be buried along with his fellow men of Ravengro. And as our fine friend has already explained, his burial has been approved by the Father."
"I for one do not fear these tales. What say you old man, doesn't every man deserve his rest, peaceful slumber while Pharasma takes his soul to the Boneyard? Don't deny this man his final resting place."
Maybe these uneducated thugs are afraid.
The cowl of Dantrian's cloak dips again as he shifts his gaze from the gathered crowd back to the coffin he stoicly helps to bear.
You of all people knew how much there was to fear, Professor. If these fools had any real idea...
--you fools be looking for a beat down? I be happy to give you a beat down, make you bloody and muddy. You don't want to be a giving we a beat down, you understand and ting?Mubutu stares the angry ring-leader in the eye.
Intimidate
--Mubutu's thick accent makes him sound almost happy. Not the effect he was trying for.
Dantrian shifts his gaze once more, this time to the tribal looking half-orc and his macabre face paint. What did he say? I didn't understand much of that, but he sounds like he's enjoying himself. Odder and odder.
" They be right, Gibbs. The old coots been livin' here a good ol' time, maybe we shouldn't do this. It ain't be right, causin ruckus here on Pharasma's soil. It's bad luck!" One of the ruffians spoke out to the man called Gibbs, being convinced by Korvus' and Maya's appeals. Nods and grunts of approval rippled throughout the crowd.
"Sorry my Lady, we'll be leavin you on your lonesome. One of the men spoke out at Kendra. A look of shame and embarassment marked the mobs faces as they quietly disbanded. A long glare between the one called Gibbs and Mubutu lasted for what seemed like minutes. Gibbs scoffed and walked away with a swagger.
"Thank you, Oh thank you! Kendra thanks you profusely, and apologizes on behalf of the town for the near-assault. The others accompanying you seem shocked at the attack. Whispering to each other about the people involved, the terms "all of low-character' and 'just the local farmhands' spread through the group rather quickly.
Within a few moments, another old fellow approaches the procession. Revealing himself as Father Grimburrow, Kendra goes to the man and they converse. The end result being the continuation of the burial. The rest of the trip towards the burial plot is uneventful. And the clergyman begin to lower Lorrimor's coffin into the cold ground.
After a short sermon by Father Grimburrow, Kendra takes the podium and recounts a few of the more selfless and courageous moments from Petros Lorrimor's life. It is obvious she is fighting back tears as she continues. Afterwards, she thanks everyone for attending the funeral. Then asks if anyone would like to share any memories, or if anyone would like to say something before Professor Lorrimor is done and buried.
"Professor, you treated me right when noone else would. I got much closer to my goals thanks to you, and the coin was never bad. May Pharasma take kindly to you." Maya thinks to herself.
Maya, hiding in the shadow of a tree a few yards away from the other attendees, remains quiet and listens to the speakers.
--Mubutu asks Korvus to translate for him...
--10 years ago, I met the professor. I was, only a young man in my teens. My life had been hard up to that point, for my father was human. My mother was an orc. Instead of like many of my kind, who wish to be more human, I was an outcast. A weak, cowardly, soft boy. My tribe had little time for those who showed little skill at arms, and I was forced to leave the tribal village, and live with the witch doctor, who dwells a mile away as is the custom.
--One day, as I was walking the jungle trails, I heard the sound of someone groaning in pain. It was a man, and he was white. I had heard of white men, but the professor was the first I ever saw. I raced off and got my master. His healing magic brought the professor around, and to our surprise, he could speak to us!
--He told me that a jungle pig, a boar, had attacked him and his party. The party fled and he was injured. He was able to kill the boar, but weak from blood loss, disease set in the wound. Soon he could only crawl. He had been ill for days.
--He thanked us both for saving his life. In return he offered to teach me many things. First he taught me his language, and he taught me about his lands and his people. For the first time, I met a person who cared more for mental pursuits than for brute strength. He was like a father to me in many ways
--I swore an oath of loyalty that if he needed help, he should contact the spirits, and I would come to his aid...2 months ago I had a dream that the professor was in trouble, and I set off at once. I was sad to find I am here, only to be too late to be of aid to the professor
Korvus steps forward, bowler hat held respectfully over his heart as he translates Mubutu's eulogy . When the exotic half-orc finishes speaking, Korvus bows his head respectfully to Mubutu and then steps to the podium himself.
"Professor Petros Lorrimor was more than a man; he was a gentleman and a scholar," Korvus begins. "The Professor knew my parents, and encouraged them to enroll me into the Stone of Seers in Magnimar when I demonstrated a gift for academics and wizardry - even though no one of orc-blood had ever attended the school before. Indeed, I believe it was his letter of recommendation that finally convinced the Deans to grant my admission. The Professor was a frequent guest lecturer at the school and his time was in high demand, but he always made an effort to spend time with this young student. Why, I'll never forget all the hours we spent debating the finer points of arcane esoterica!" Smiling wistfully at the memory Korvus retrieves a silk handkerchief from a vest pocket and dabs at his eyes. As he does so, the black bird perched on his shoulder trills softly in his ear. Korvus rubs the bird gently under its neck.
Korvus places the handkerchief back in his pocket and turns to speak directly to Kendra. "Of all my teachers I would have to say that it was Professor Lorrimor who truly inspired me not only to excel at my studies, but to open my eyes to the wider world around me. If I can someday become at least half the man that he was - noted scholar, intrepid explorer, and kind, giving soul who inspired others - then I will feel worthy of all the effort he put forth on my behalf. This world is a better place as a result of his presence in it. He will be sorely missed."
Korvus bows his head to Kendra and then steps back to allow the next person to speak.
During Father Grimburrow's sermon, Dantrian removes his cowl for the first time since he stepped out into the rain earlier that morning. He looks at first to be an old man, his long hair completely gray. However, upon closer inspection his face still shows the vibrancy of youthful vigor. As is only proper, he keeps his cloak down throughout the quaint service.
The gray-haired human stands off to the side as different mourners make their way to the podium to eulogize the departed professor. He seems slightly fidgety, but in the end remains where he is.
What could I possibly say? "The old generous coot helped me once, and now he's left me behind?" No, no. "He was a generous man whose death will be sorely missed, especially by me?" Bah. No good. Let that orc fellow have the attention - ahhh, esoterica! I may have sold this one short at first. What promising vernacular in him - perhaps he might be interested in the applied sciences!
"Why do these half-orcs talk so much?"