You had a personal connection to Professor Petros Lorrimor. It may have been a friendship held over years, or a fleeting encounter that left the impression of an intelligent, yet haunted man. Nevertheless, your dealings with Petros left a mark on both your lives.
For this reason, it comes as a shock and disappointment to learn that your friend has succumbed to an accidental death in his home village of Ravengro. A letter, penned by Petros' daughter Kendra, was delivered to you and requests your attendance at the funeral and also at the will-reading that will follow.
The journey to Ravengro is not particularly arduous, although a black coach careens down the mud-covered road at a fair speed, splattering you with flecks of mud. No one is visible through the coach's curtains, but the driver says little as he passes.
The letter that Kendra sent you tells you that Petros is to be interred in the Restlands, Ravengro's cemetery. Ravengro as a village plays host to a couple of inns, a temple to Pharasma, several shops and a number of houses.
Lysa sighs as she is splattered by the fast moving coach. Great, more mud. I would say that my robes are now more brown than grey. Dry sunny days must be a very rare thing indeed around here."
Pausing once she enters the town, Lysa looks around. "Amazing to believe this little, dreary village produced a mind as great as Professor Lorrimors.
Assuming that any funeral procession would start from the temple, Lysa heads there first and knocks upon the door if she doesn't see anyone about. When she does find someone, she asks: "Excuse me, but could you please tell me if I am in time for the funeral of Professor Lorrimor?
A black-robed acolyte was busying himself around the temple grounds as Lysa approaches. "Yes, ma'am. The funeral for Professor Lorrimor is being held at the Restlands."
"Thank you Driver, a most pleasant journey." Gabbi says stepping out of the coach carefully to avoid the mud. Well truthfully it hadn't been, but the coach driver didn't need to know. Thinking about it coach driving is probably another job a zombie could leaving that man to do something more important.
Unlike the small bird that had been until a moment ago sitting on one of her pig tails, Gabbi was lost in her own thoughts when another coach passed spraying mud all over her.
I can't let Miss Kendra see me like this, what will she think? Red starts to creep up her face under the mud splatters. Looking around frantically she sees a nearby inn and runs for it.
Speaking desperately "Inn keeper, a room please and quickly." Grabbing the key she runs upstairs to her room.
Slamming the door behind her she flops down onto the bed tears now flowing down her face mixing with the mud. Turning the small bird now sitting on a bed post "Lissala, what am to do, I'll never get the filth out of my hair let alone my beautiful dress."
In a sweet lilting voice with a fair dose of teasing scorn "You have a spell that will fix that. The one you use to change your hair colour. I'm going to go have an explore, back soon." With that the unnaturally brightly coloured bird flies to the window.
Immediately cheering up "Oh yeah... be careful gorgeous" Gabbi goes and opens the window. With a practised flick of the wrist "Prestidigitation" with another another flick of the wrist the mud slides off and falls to the floor.
Leaving her bag Gabbi climbs down the stair almost bouncing. "Thank you good Innkeeper. Now would you be so good as to direct me to Miss Kendra Lorrimor's residence?"
Glad that she has arrived in time, Lysa thanks the acolyte and begins walking to the Restlands.
Dantrian emerges from the inn in the early morning, just in time to be nearly bowled over by a mud-covered human. Shuffling quickly out of the way, he barely has a moment to voice his irritation before she's already vanished through the door.
Shaking his head in dismay over how rude and uneducated these country folk tend to be, he turns to the stony path near the inn and begins his walk to the Restlands. If memory served, that'd be where the Professor's funeral was to take place. His thoughts are a jumble as he plods along, his thick cloak wrapped tight around him to protect him from the drizzling rain.
What am I supposed to do now? Without the professor... why would such a keen mind choose to live in such a dreary place? All this blasted rain! What was the rude woman's rush anyho- A passing carriage spatters Dantrian with sticky mud as it drives by, the driver not even offering a nod or shrug of apology. Ah. That then.
Shaking his head yet again and shooting an angry parting glare at the driver of the coach, Dantrian continues his trudging walk to the Restlands. At least now I look like a local. Ha!
The journey home felt at odds with any kind of "homecoming" he might have imagined. But, in any case, he rarely focused on that anymore. His mind was more transfixed on a more immediate problem.
"I owe that man," he thinks quietly, head cast towards the ground. "But now the Professor is dead, and yet I don't feel as if the life debt has gone away. It's still there, ticking behind everything."
The sky is overcast with a large blanket of white and gray, cloudy, just like it always was in Ustalav. Ebon couldn't even remember the last time he had seen the sun bear it's forlorn face across the clouds. Against all sanity, he just wishes it would rain. "It would release the tension. A little pathetic fallacy never hurt anybody. Har, har, har.
Seeing a carriage lumbering down the road, ebon turns running after it. "Sir, sir! Have a minute?! Could you tell me where the funeral of Pro... at that very moment the carriage banks sharply at a street corner, spraying Ebon head to toe in the mud still wet from yesterday's rains.
Ptew!," he spits. Thanks, bootlicker! You may still have helped me in the end.
Glancing down the street, Ebon notices a mudsoaked old looking man, shooting the passing carriage an angry glance as he starts to trot away in the opposite direction.
Now HERE's someone viable. "Sir, Sir! Do you have a minute, sir? I need directions to a funeral of a man named Professor Lorrimor. Would you perhaps know of him?"
As Ebon approaches, he takes in the man and his visage, noticing anything and everything that may look out of the ordinary.
If needed.
Eh?
Dantrian turns around, his eyes go slightly wide as his gaze falls on an a very unexpected sight - a tengu.
A tengu? In Ravengro? Most unusual!
"Eh? You're here for the funeral too, then?" Dantrian comes to a stop, waiting for the bird-headed fellow to catch up. He draws his robe closer in case any more wild carriages slew by in the mud.
"The professor is being interred in the Restlands, just a short walk this way," Dantrian nods his head in the direction he'd been travelling. "You're welcome to join me if you like, as that was and still is my intended destination," he hesitates for a moment as he looks the stranger over, "and I was about to warn you to mind the careless carriage drivers here, but it seems you've already run afoul of one as well."
From above Ebon and Dantrian comes a shrill laugh like bird song. Sitting on a corner of the roof above them is a brightly coloured small bird.
Mistress isn't the only one getting muddy, those coach drivers sure have it in for muddles and anyone on foot. Hey one of then isn't a mammal its a giant Corvidae, strange, wonder if is a carnivore or herbivore.
"Yes, yes, the cab drivers here do indeed express a most disagreeable disregard for passer-bys, hah!" He squawks as he laughs.
"This man also knew the professor. The man traveled far and wide I see. Strange, I hardly knew him."
"I'm sure we'll get to know each other well. My name i..." Ebon hears a high tweeting noise up above and when he glances his head upwards he comes across a curious looking bird sitting on the corner of a roof.
"Stranger still. I could have sworn for a second the bird was laughing."
He looks back at the stranger. "Ehem, my name is Ebon, Ebon Highroost. The Restlands are this way, you said?" He glances over that way and takes a few tentative steps towards the area before glancing back.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name."
"Just so. And I am Dantrian Almaeus." His name is offered off-handedly as his attention is drawn upwards to the bird perched on the edge of a roof.
Is that a thrush? By the devils, why this convergence of non-native bird-life in Ravengro of all places?
Trudging along the muddy path to the rest lands, Lysa glances about as she hears distant voices behind her and then comes to a complete stop out of surprise. Well, there's no way the fellow on the right is local. I'd be willing to bet a Tengu would have been just the kind of unusual acquaintance the professor would have enjoyed talking to though.
Lysa pauses under a tree, both to rest and to let the two catch up so that she can talk to them.
Eh? Who's that up ahead?
As Dantrian and Ebon continue, the grey-haired man slows his pace as they come up along a young woman resting beneath a tree beside the path. His right eyebrow arches inquisitively as he notices the holy symbol of Pharasma embroidered on her cloak.
He nods in greeting, "Good mourning." He chuckles inwardly at his darkly humored pun.
Gabbi waits for a moment for the innkeeper to replies but he seems like he is in no hurry to answer. Maybe he didn't have heard, or maybe I've said something wrong.
Turning away she walks to the door, looking down at her clean outfit then out to check for a passing coaches. Seeing none she steps out carefully and starts walking up the road, obviously a little nervously.
Lysa completely misses the pun. "Good morning gentlemen. Are you by any chance also here to see Professor Lorrimor laid to rest?"
Noticing too the woman standing by the tree, Ebon flashes the most friendly smile he can muster. Hello, fellow traveler. Yes, we are here to witness the sad event. I have known the professor for some time. It saddens to see such a spry old man pass away so suddenly.
"Ah, a Pharasman. Pleasant enough company for a professor. They're always the bookish sort. Don't make assumptions. No, keep your guard up."
The innkeeper had been studying young Gabbi for a moment.
"Restlands," he says as she exits the room, "Although don't be too surprised if folks aren't happy about it," he mutters darkly.
You arrive at the entrance to the Restlands to find a small group waiting there. An attractive young woman greets you. Her eyes are red and puffy and she is dressed in dark, conservative clothing. If you have not met her already, you surmise that this is Kendra Lorrimor.
"Oh, you must be my father's friends," she says with a wan smile. Her voice seems to be equal parts curious, sad and relieved. "Hello, Gabriela," she says to the young necromancer. It seems as though there is a little strained distance in her voice.
You notice the fine coffin on a nearby cart. "I'd rather hoped you would act as pallbearers," Kendra says by way of explanation.
"First, allow me to make introductions. These two men are Councilmen of Ravengro, Vashian Hearthmount and Gharen Muricar," Kendra motions to both a large man with excellent bearing and a thinner man who looks at the women in the party with openly lecherous looks.
"This is Zokar Elkarid and his son, Pevrin," she continues, seemingly oblivious to Gharen's looks. Zokar is a rotund yet jovial chap and his son appears to be heading the same way.
"Last but not least, father's good friend, Jominda Fallenbridge," Kendra indicates a middle-aged woman who appears to bear the hallmarks of an alchemist.
"So, would you all do me the honour of being father's pallbearers?"
"Hello Kendra" Gabbi says just a little too cheerfully, then remembering the situation more somberly she says "I'm sorry sorry for your lose and be incrediblely honoured to be a pallbearer" Looking around the others asked to be a pallbear she is glad at least a few of them seem to be strong lads. As her gaze passes Lysa, gives a surprized smile and a small wave.
Then to the introduced friends of the family Gabbi curtsies "A please to meet you all and I wish it were under better circumstances. I am Gabriela Szabo, my father was a close friend of Pet... of Professor Lorrimor's."
Lysa responds to Gabbi's wave with a small one of her own and then gives a little curtsey to Kendra. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Miss Kendra and it would be an honor to be a pallbearer for the Professor. My name is Lysa Arianna and like Gabbi said, I wish we were all meeting under a better set of circumstances."
Dantrian flashes Gabbi a queer look after she introduces herself before shaking his head and turning his attention to Kendra.
Szabo? I know that name. Why do I know that name? Szabo... Szabo... bah, it'll come to me later.
Nodding deferentially to Lorrimor's daughter, his gaze then shifts slightly to fall upon the casket. A grim sadness settles onto Dantrian then, the weight of it visible in his shoulders. His throat suddenly dry, his voice cracks in a raspy half-whisper, "Yes, yes of course. Of course."
"To carry him to his final rest is the least I can do to repay the professor." As the Professor's daughter requests pallbearers, Qorin steps forward from where he had been watching the gathering in silence, his tone solemn. He is young, barely past adolescence, but there is a hardness to his expression that suggests a reserve of experience beyond his years. He bows before Kendra and as he rises, he shifts to include the others. "I am called Qorin. I was fortunate enough to encounter Professor Lorrimor a year ago in the Cinderlands."
Ebon, busy looking down sullenly at the ornate casket set before him, visibly reels at the sight of the imposing figure of the Half-ORc as he makes himself known.
"Erm, well met friend. My name is Ebon. As you can plainly tell, I too was acquainted with the Professor for some time. Shame we could not have met earlier."
"A Half-Orc now is it? The company this man kept... I am surprised he had not died sooner. The Half-Orc is large and brutal looking, and not a spot of mud on him for that matter. A defter being than the rest of us, now that's got to be certain, presumptions and all. I'm surrounded on all sides by the absurd and the powerful, and I have only two eyes!
Ebon bows to the rest of the noble crowd before turning before Kendra and bending the knee even further into the soft mud of the earth.
To Kendra he says, by means of consolation, "I would be most humbly honored to be the pallbearer for such a great man. I assure you I will grant him the utmost honor as should be given to a man of his stature."
Gods I hope I won't have to be the one to carry it. Sure, the old man must have been light on his feet, but that coffin can not be by any stretch of the imagination 'light'"
Kendra lets out a small sigh of relief as you agree to be his pallbearers. She directs the five of you and Zokar to the relevant points of the coffin.
"Father Grimburrow and his acolytes will meet us within the Restlands," Kendra says as the six of you hoist the coffin onto your shoulders. "It is local custom."
Kendra assumes the lead of the procession, with the pallbearers and coffin directly behind. The rest of the funeral party step in behind. The mood is somber and quiet as you proceed within the Restlands and begin the solemn walk up the path known as Dreamwake.
"That's far enough," a commanding voice booms from in front of the procession, "We been talking, and we don't want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain't goin' in the ground here!"
A group of a dozen or so surly looking individuals are blocking your path up the Dreamwake. The tallest of them is an elderly but wiry looking man.
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming to anger. "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," the tall man says, interrupting Kendra, "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?" Kendra shouts at the man. A growl goes up from the mob.
Thug 1: 4/4
Thug 2: 4/4
Thug 3: 4/4
Thug 4: 4/4
Thug 5: 4/4
Thug 6: 4/4
A look of shock clear on her face, the normally quiet Lysa begins to berate the townsfolk. "How dare you people deny a proper burial to anyone, let alone such a learned and respected man as Professor Lorrimor? Pharasma herself would surely be offended by such actions. And shame on you for causing his daughter further grief by making such absurd and unfounded allegations."
If others begin to lower the coffin, Lysa will do so as well.
Dantrian's eyes go wide at the small mob's obstinance.
Superstitious, uneducated fools!
He nods as Lysa berates them, then thinks to chime in himself.
"And let's assume your allegations, preposterous and unfounded as they are, were in fact true. You mistakenly believe that the late Lorrimor was consorting with fell beings and had considerable power over the dead," he pauses here briefly for emphasis then resumes, a fierce light in his eyes, "and your plan is to cross this person's daughter and surviving companions while simultaneously denying his internment within holy, consecrated ground? This is your plan? A better one would be to accept the truth that a kind man has passed and that the world will be lesser for it!"
"This was a good man, and no necromancer. He will be buried here today. I have no doubt of these things." Qorin stares at the men, his eyes hard as he scents them for evil. "I do not know why you say these things, but I know you are mistaken. Whatever your purpose is, you will not stop this burial."
"And now the ignoramuses have come to play."
Ebon glances the men over, paying careful attention to the elderly man at their head. He looks for any kind of concealed weaponry and armaments.
"Think. What do they want, what motivates them. Fear, paranoia, superstition. All of them, simple townsfolk, the leader, older, maybe a military man. Obvious tint of misogyny in his voice. Use their fears against them, best choice. Ustalavans have a particular proclivity for Pharasma."
Still straining under the weight of the coffin, Ebon angles his face down at the villagers and affixes them with a darkened expression. His voice is slow, dark and judgmental.
"This man, a statesman of the highest order, an egalitarian, an intellectual, was most likely one of the few saving graces of this town for the longest time, and yet you all have the gall to invoke false accusations as to the nature of his research?"
"Necromancy, you say?! Do you truly believe his work ever dabbled into the dark arts? Where is your proof, or do you all rely on superstition and the leadership of this old surly bigot at the front to make your judgements for you? You are impeding the progress of a rightful interment for a great man, and still you spit at the shoes of one of The Lady of Graves's faithful." He nods his head towards Lysa.
"Is it truly your wish to invoke Pharasma's wrath then?"
The group murmur amongst themselves, and even the leader takes a step back from Ebon's ire, compounded by the words of his compatriots. Be grudgingly, the group disperse, careful not to appear threatening despite still carrying their various farming implements which they had been brandishing as weapons moments ago.
Just as the group disappears from sight, a harried old man hobbles into view from within the Restlands, followed by two acolytes.
"What on earth was all that commotion?!" he asks, concerned.
"Some of the locals were a bit riled up, Father," Councilman Hearthmount says before anyone can speak, "However, a stern rebuke from our..." Councilman Hearthmount motions towards Ebon with a confused glance, "... friend here saw them off."
"Oh," the Father remarks, a fleeting look of irritation crossing his face. "Well, if there's nothing more to be said, perhaps we can proceed?"
"I do not think those frightened townsfolk will show us any further resistance, Father. We may indeed proceed."
Though I am curious as to what would fill them with such dread and cause them to so slander the good professor.
Poor Kendra. It's horrible that anyone should have to deal with such a scene when trying to bury a loved one. And such ridiculous accusations.
"Yes Father, let's proceed. We have been delayed enough already." Lysa is still paler than normal with anger at those ignorant peasants.
Qorin watches the townsfolk disperse and shifts the coffin on his shoulder. His mouth is tight with anger as he tries to remember the faces, particularly that of the leader. The incident had passed without violence, but it had been a near thing.
Something provoked them to this. When this duty to the Professor is discharged, I will find what that thing was. There will be an accounting for this. These others seem worthy souls, and are outraged as well. Perhaps we will find a common cause in this.
"Let us take the professor to his rest. I wish to find those responsible for misleading these villagers."
Gabbi get all tongue tied but her anger at the individuals who blocked the path is very clear to all. "Petros... I mean Profe... Necromances AREN'T... You should be... Evil?... Kendra... Fell being?... Undead aren't... He was a nice..." By the end of this Gabbi is in tears frustrated at being unable to express her opinion or anger. Why can't I tell them, a couple of angry people and I fall apart. I won't being any support to Kendra like this.
There is a flash of movement and small brightly coloured bird flies down and her shoulder and nuzzles up in to her neck.
Regaining her a little of her composure and tongue she says quietly "Thank you Lissala." Then turning angerly to face the retreating peasants tears still obvious on her face she says a voice full of bile and anger. "You ignorant peasants! Necronmacy is not evil! It is probably your best hope for a life of bliss and relaxation! The Professor was great man, greater than any of you idiots are likely to see again! And if you ever threaten my friend Kendra again you will pray that he was a Necromancer so he can come back from the grave and stop me before I'm finished with you."
"Enough, Gabriela," Kendra hisses, as Father Grimburrow looks at the young wizard with a guarded look, his Pharasman holy symbol glittering in the light. The leader also turns his head to look at Gabriela, as though memorising her face.
The procession proceeds in silence to Petros' freshly dug grave. Several wreaths are sitting to one side, ready to be placed onto the grave when he has been lowered into the ground. Quietly, the acolytes busy themselves showing each pallbearer how to untangle the cord from the handles that each of them have next to them, before coordinating the lowering of Petros' coffin into the ground.
"Oh Lady of Graves, we commend this body to you so that it may have a blessed and eternal rest. We trust that you will judge the soul of Petros Lorrimor and usher him on to his final place of rest. We ask this in your name, amen," Father Grimburrow says the prayer with practiced ease, then steps aside to allow Kendra to step forward.
"As you all know, my father was a courageous man who stood against the numerous threats that exist in our fair country. That his life be cut short by a mere accident seems a bitter tragedy. Nevertheless, he now has the rest that he earned. To me, he will always be Dad, a man who manage to put aside time for me, no matter how busy his schedule. I'll miss you, Dad," Kendra lets out a sob. Father Grimburrow indicates that if anyone else wishes to, they may speak some words of the Professor.
Gabbi moves forward and gives a Kendra a hug then releasing her "Professor Lorrimor was an inspiration, his tales of times long ago his adventures he had learning of them made study exciting as a child. Later his encouragement of my own studies motivated me to look into paths I would never have thought of. He truly was a great man of many disciplines and genius for being able to integrate like no other. I will miss him dearly but the world will miss him more." Gabbi says when she finish a tear large tear forms in each eye and rolls down her check.
The assembled group nods at Gabriela's words.
At this point, the acolytes begin the slow process of covering the Professor's coffin with earth. Kendra moves through the group and extends her thanks and goodbyes as they begin to disperse.
"Thank you for being my father's pallbearers," she says to the group, "Please, come back to the house for a drink while we wait for Councilman Hearthmount to attend to the reading of the will. He has some other business to attend to for an hour or so, but he'll be along as soon as he is finished." Kendra indicates back towards the town and waits expectantly for the group to take the lead.
Lysa breathes a sigh of relief when they make it inside Kendra's house without having to deal with any more unpleasant and ignorant townsfolk. Giving Kendra a hug she offers her condolences. "I am so sorry for your loss Kendra. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you."
Dantrian fidgets slightly as Father Grimburrow invites another to eulogize the professor. He seems he just might be ready to step forward when Gabbi moves to hug Kendra, still wearing her heart on her sleeve as it were. He maintains his position, nodding along somberly and realizes that perhaps Gabbi might have known the professor as he did.
But why do I know her name?! Szabo. Szabo!
"Indeed, Kendra, I wish your neighbors would have granted you the proper respect that you and father deserve. I am sorry that they made an already difficult day even more upsetting."
Once they've gone indoors, he sheds his cloak and his features are clearly visible for the first time that morning; his face doesn't look nearly as old as his grey hair might have indicated. He shuffles through the press of bodies and helps himself to a seat, unmindful of whether there are enough chairs for everyone.
Qorin stands stoically at the grave as the priest, the daughter and the young woman eulogize the Professor. I should speak, he thinks, but I do not have any gift for words. The professor and the gods know why I am here. That is enough.
He follows Kendra and the others inside. When things settle in, he pulls aside Jominda Fallenbridge. He introduces himself. "My name is Qorin, the professor and I met in the Cinderlands, I helped him with some orcs and he introduced me to the man who showed me Iomedae's path. I am curious, the old man at the head of that rabble, is he known to you?"
The interior of the Professor's home is much like he was in life; packed with knowledge. Floor to ceiling book cases fill every available spot in the wall of practically every room.
"Thank you," Kendra says to Lysa and Dantrian. She looks Qorin over before replying.
"His name is Gibs," she replies eventually, "He's a local rabble rouser. He used to be a soldier but retirement ill suits him as he finds few people are willing to follow him any more. He latches onto whatever topic is bothering the village in a bid to feel important. Father ignored him most of the time, which served to cause Gibs to think Father was up to something."
Kendra sighs, "I guess I should have thought something like this would happen. We've lived here for fifteen years and yet we are still treated as outsiders."
Moving aside a stack of papers to find a seat, Lysa looks over to Kendra with concern clear on her face. "He won't cause you any further problems will he? I have no pressing duties elsewhere if you would feel better having some company for a few nights?"
"No," Kendra replies, "He'll have found something else to worry about by tomorrow. Most villagers just ignore him. He usually keeps to himself out at his cottage."
After the confrontation with the townsfolk, Ebon remains dead silent, hardly opening his beak to breath.
"The dead deserve the respect that only silence can bring, even mopre so the Professor. The second great man I have known to pass away."
His face is still a mask of solemnity and silence as he enters Kendra's home.
To Kendra, he asks, "Have these kind of events occurred often for you? I haven't been in the area for some time, Ravengro never, but are these kind of witch hunts common?"
"This Gibs... The way Kendra describes him, he seems almost too pathetic to persuade a group of followers to follow him. There's an underlying sentiment here, in this town, a feeling, deep in the gut, just... paranoia, fear. Why?"
He turns his head slightly to stare at the young girl with the small bird on her shoulder.
"And what was that outburst before? Using necromancy for the good of mankind? There's something more to her... and that bird, I saw it before, on the roof. I thought it laughed at me... curious."