NOW ARRIVING IN RAVENGRO! bellows the driver of the rickety carriage. The weather-beaten middle age man pulls back hard on the reins and the carriage comes to a halting stop. There is an brisk autumn chill in the air as you exit the coach. The driver steps down from the vehicle and starts to unstrap your possessions from the rear rack, placing the miscellaneous luggage on the cobblestone walk that surrounds a small gazebo in the center of townsquare. The overcast sun is setting in the west and the threat of rain is becoming clearly obvious. This abysmal weather is fitting considering the reason for your journey. Last week, you received word that your dear friend and mentor Petros Lorrimor has passed away and that your presence is needed to read his last will and testament. Although you don't have many details you were given directions to his estate. The sudden unexpected news caused you to drop everything and leave immediately to say your last goodbyes to the great man that had such an profound impact upon your life.
The driver finishes his hurried work, tips his hat to you all and climbs back onto the large dilapidated coach. NEXT STOP URGIR.... He bellows out once again and with a swift crack of the reins the carriage takes off to the south continuing on its journey.
You notice that several townsfolk are eyeing the group with both intrigued and suspicious looks before averting their gaze and continuing with their tasks.
A mongrel of a Dwarf stepped forward, looking at the large group of people meander on by, casting glances and gazes, only averting them from the group. He was unkempt, to say the least. Barely covered by ragged leathers and bearded to his naval, he was an homage of animalistic treatment of the body. He smelled like rotten apples, alcohol, and scallions; his hair looked as if a small creature could be lost in the labyrinthine strands that clearly defied everything gravity. Newton would love this test subject. He held, on his back, a large axe, Dwarven in build, and stained with browned patches of dried blood, making the intricacies of the blacksmithship seem pewtered. He stroked his great brown beard, almost humming to himself. "Well, then! It seems oor welcoming perrty had an Orc s&~* in their mead. Thet heppened tae me, once. I wondered why it tasted so...nutty." He nods slowly, reliving the instance where he drank s@#* mead and survived. Ah, childhood.
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Moving away from the dwarf was a halfling, just shy of 3 foot tall, and with fiery red hair. Once away from the dwarf she took in deep breaths, as if she was trying not to breath for the last day or so.
sweet desna, the stench!
Perking up she looks at the nearest townsman and says excuse me, could you please direct me to professor lorrimar's house? I am here to attend a funeral.
You approach a woman wearing what probably was once a blue dress, but now is completely faded. It is apparent that this particular dress had been worn many days for several years. She while seemingly busy sweeping her porch rushes inside her house when you approach her completely ignoring you and locking the door behind herself....this happens several times, men walk by waving you off not taking the time to answer your questions and then cutting you dirty looks from a distance as they fade away into different building here circling town square. Finally after countless failed attempts you are given directions to head south out of town and was told the Lorrimor estate will be on the left.
The wind begins to howl through the street as the last ray of sunshine creeps behind the horizon giving the town a eerie abandoned feel. You find it hard to believe that anyone would voluntarily live in such a dreary place and even more surprised that Petros called Ravengro home.
Another halfling, this one a young man with light blond hair and side-whiskers, stepped out of the carriage. After waiting for the crowd to disperse he walks up to a man who appears to be a local. "Sir, could you please tell me..." The man, however, doesn't let the halfling finish his sentence, and walks off quickly. "Well, guess not..."
Let me see... are there any signposts?
The halfling sees another halfling, who seems to be searching for something as well. He walks up to her, careful to avoid getting anywhere near a smelly dwarf who's stroking his beard while spacing out. "Hello miss. My name's Eldon Appleton, adventurer and epic storyteller. I'm in search of Professor Lorrimar's mansion. You seem to be from someplace else, like me. Any chance you're also heading to the mansion to attend the funeral?"
"I am, yes. I tell stories and perform jiggs. Check this out, Lena."
Eldon crosses his arms and lowers his torso, then kicks his feet forward one after another. "Learnt this in a place called Sobjet Lussia!"
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Much like the dreary weather of Ravengro so was the mood of the large man who looked about the alien town. News of a very close friend's passing was troubling Genesis. 'Last time I saw him he was in good health..what could possibly have happened?' He thought to himself as he was too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay attention to the citizens who paid their newcomers with dirty looks. However after coming back to his senses he realized he had no idea where the Professor's Manor was. He was too hasty in his travels and had forgotten to even ask for simple directions. He was young and still prone to simple mistakes like these.
He had first thought to ask the citizens but took notice at the lengths they took to avoid several other of the newcomers and immediately withdrew that idea. He remembered the small group from their joint travel here and had thoughts on asking them instead of the locals in Ravengro. He already could tell that they were conversing with each other on a matter. 'Perhaps they know where Lorrimor lives..' With hopes on an answer he headed towards the of halflings and the dwarf who was oddly somewhat disattached from the group.
"Forgive my intrusion-" he began, bowing as is his custom. "You wouldn't happen to know the whereabouts of Professor Lorrimor's Manor would you? I had half a mind to ask the locals but they seem uninterested." he explained. "And I can't seem to find any sources for direction."
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A young man with shaved head steps quietly from the carriage. Tian dissent by the simple outfit he wears, and only having what he carries with him he steps into the shadow of the gazebo. He is is used to not being noticed and while the townsfolk are actively trying to ignore his, and the other strangers, presence; to him this just amplifies the feeling of being watched. The journey had been long, he appreciated the trials the Professor's own journey prior to their meeting more so for having done it himself.
I wonder if all long travels are accompanied by such odorous companions... he wonders observing the others take in and begin to head to their destinations about the town. It is obvious that the townsfolk have no interest in directing strangers. All the better as it saves him the trouble of awkwardly asking for said directions. He takes the letter bearing the unfortunate news of the professor's passing out and reviews it while listening the remaining travelers who seem less sure of their destination within this hamlet.
It seems the boisterous halflings and larger gentleman are heading the same direction as I... the thought trails off as he continues to look busy reviewing the letter until the group moves off and he is able to follow.
Introductions are best made out of the cold... he draws up the hood of his cloak...
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A gnome also exits the carriage. Her name, she told you, is "Norra Epnapha Refrin", although she seemed a little unsure about it herself, with it seeming to change each time she relayed it.
She is wearing brown and green traveler's clothing over scale mail (crude, but of dwarven make?), with a crossbow and large pack with blanket and bedroll on her back, a number of items on her belt, and a large walking stick - a "shillelagh" she has told you. A purple and black butterfly carved from wood, simple but carefully painted, hangs from her neck, identifying her as a follower of Desna.
"I remember the Professor, of course, but it seems like a lifetime ago. In fact, I thought it was another lifetime since I am pretty sure I was someone else... Well, no matter, they do get so jumbled over time... And place, and race, and face!" she had related, rather incomprehensibly, first confused, herself, and then bemused.
Perhaps unlike some others, she seemed to enjoy every aspect of the ride here: every bump on the road, every new sight, and every - yes, every - new smell, nose and ears twitching, eyes darting. "The journey can be as rewarding - as holy, even - as the destination!" she enthuses.
She listened eagerly and attentively to every story told, continually asking Eldon for more, conversing with her new dwarven friend about her life growing up in the tunnels of the Five Kings Mountains, and whistling merrily (in untrained) in the times in between. (If met with stares or annoyance, she switches to 'whistling' silently, lips pursed and cheeks blown up, but making no audible sound.)
She makes friendly waves, smiles, and bows at the residents, remembering that Desna is well-felt here, even if gnomes are not so. Ah, yes, maybe it is because I am a gnome, she thinks after checking a few details of her person. Well, No matter! she continues, optimistically.
Burlee blinks rapidly after hearing movement all around him. Ah, no one cared about his reminiscings and wondrous tales regarding his childhood. Perhaps the Gnome did, as her odd facial expression toward the meek and mild populous could be subverted into the glee of the tales he told. No matter. A woman ran into her home to avoid the halfling, and then the fire haired female began dancing. How very strange indeed.
Why are they so afraid? He continued to stroke his beard while looking at the people, wondering for a few moments before realizing he just didn't care. They had yet to offer him an inn and food. He snorted and spat on the ground before turning toward the group and walking into its numbers. "Who cares aboot these freaks, I hungarr. Let's find some kind of food givin' hoose end esk people there." He places his broad hand onto his brow and does a grandoise movement to visualize the area. It's only getting darker, and he'd hate to sully his leathers when the rain came.
"Ah yes, it's a very nice dance. And, you're almost as good at it as I am. Almost."
When he turns to look around, Eldon notices several other people that were in the same carriage. "Lena, it seems we're not the only people with our destination. Perhaps the others know where to go."
Eldon waves at the other people that got out of the carriage, and calls out to them. "Hello! We're looking for Professor Lorrimor's Manor. Anyone knows where to go from here?"
The repugnant Dwarf places his hand over his brow and peers at each of the buildings straining to comprehend the words written on each sign due to his lack of an formal education. Burlee finally notices a couple locals standing outside of a particular building holding mugs of ale in a surprisingly upbeat manner as they talk to one another. The others can discern a sign reading: The Outward Inn.
intimate gatherings.
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Genesis's hopeful smile was slowly fading with a sigh he responded to the halfling bard, expressing his disconcern. "Actually I was hoping that one of you would know. It seems in my haste I forgot to ask the whereabouts of the Manor. And as I have recently experienced, no one seems eager to talk here. There are many humans here and I myself am Varisian yet it doesnt seem to move anywhere closer towards my favor."
'That and i am terrible at directions' he added to himself mentally. He didn't want to seem rude by thinking this but he wondered if Professor Lorrimor had a soft spot for the smaller folk. Out of everyone that he currently saw in front of him, all of them where nowhere near his height. The young lad quickly dismissed this thought, he was here for a funeral, such offensive thoughts would do him great dishonor. It was then that the smell of the dwarf hit him.
It was difficult to miss the Dwarf was pungent. However it did bring Genesis's attention onto the dwarf long enough to wonder exactly what he was staring at. He would have his answer after a long hard look through the muggy weather.
Well that rather inhospitable, even by Ustalev's standards. Probably fled the smell, ye think? Maybe you should have a bath
Vladlena looks around for an in or a signpost or,well some direction[dice=perception]1d20 + 2
Vladlena you realize that the carriage brought you from the north heading south-west from Clovers Crossing. There is only one road that leaves town so that much be south
"Ah, an inn!" Eldon smiles at the thought of going inside and telling some stories of his great adventures to the people visiting the inn. His smile disappears quickly when he realizes this isn't the time to do so.
Ah bugger...
"Hmm, perhaps the innkeeper can tell us where to go. It would be odd for an innkeeper, who earns his money from strangers, to ignore us like the other locals do." Having stated his intentions, Eldon walks up to the inn's door and goes inside. Once inside he looks for the innkeeper.
Eldon makes his way across the cobblestone circle to towards the large oaken-door of the Outward Inn. There is a faint sound of music and laughter from within the establishment, with a pull of the large oaken door the sounds pour out unto the street to reveal a quite lively party within. There are several people sitting near a large fireplace drinking what appears to be some kind of spiced cider completely oblivious to your entry. The bar you are greeted by a slender woman with following blonde hair, she is just past middle-age but the vestige of a extremely beautiful woman still remains.
Welcome to the Outward Inn, How my i help you master Halfling?
the patrons being formally preoccupied stop their conversations as she offers you her introduction and the room falls silent as they turn their gaze upon the outsider
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With relatively large steps Genesis followed the outgoing halfling bard into the establishment. The place seemed rather similar to those from his upbringing but that quickly changed when the inn suddenly became hushed. Eyes where on there group and this made Genesis rather uncomfortable. "I have had less eyes on me in the dark forests of Verduran.." he would say audible enough for the group to hear and perhaps even the inn-keeper.
Not only that but being in a place that required capitol it was a big reminder to him that he wasn't saving money properly. Starvation is one hell of a kick start to spend all ones gold on food. He knew he had some currency left just in case they did have some emergencies, what he didn't know was how much he had left, Genesis was horrible at keeping check of his expenses.
Feeling the stares of the locals, Eldon smiles widely. "I see my reputation precedes me, but I'll have to disappoint all of you. Tonight I, Eldon Appleton, am not here to tell tales of the many wonderous adventures I've experienced. Tonight I'm a grieving soul, in search of the manor of a man who's taught me many things. Without him I'd not be what I am now, which is perfect."
"So could you," Eldon looks at the woman that greeted him, "please tell me where the manor of Professor Lorrimor is, dear lady?"
Here's the Link! The new and improved Carrion Crown Campaign Page
Thats the intention. Nothing so far has had any impact on the content or affected the story at all