Starting a new PbP of Carrion Crown AP.
It is the year 4711, and today is the day of your dear friend Professor Lorrimor's funeral. The town of Ravengro is quiet, as is typical, in this gloomy region. Dark, heavy, rain clouds have settled over the town, and a moderate but constant drizzle has been fallin all morning.
The ground here looks as though it hasn't seen the sun in a week! The grass is heavily trodden, and the ground soaked. The muddy lanes that pass for roads, are littered with deep puddles.
You have just arrived in Ravengro after a long journey. You know you are to meet near the entrance to the burial field known as the restlands.
Please make an introductory post for your character, describing how you look, what you are wearing, and a little role-play. If you choose, you may have traveled here with another member of the party, perhaps sharing a carriage for the last portion of your journeys. If this is the case, please share your personality and what, if anything, you talked about during your travels.
Sr. Giles Renny is a nimble 3'6" in a standard white tunic and brown pants with a full cloak that looks to have cobwebs covering it. Small glasses on his little nose. On his head is a grey floppy hat covering his white hair and bushy eye brows.
He walks with a walking stick... not because he has a bad knee but bc the backpack on his back appears to be so heavy that he can barely stand. Under his other arm is a very thick book with what looks like a elk on the spine.
The gentle giles walks to the gate by the restlands and sets his water proof backpack on the ground and untucks the book and starts to read from the well worn pages.
Mignar Gariksson is a very stout 4'10", with skin the color of forged bronze, and hair as black as the haunted night. His attire is covered by a predominantly white cloak, which fades into black towards the bottom, although gauging by the bulkiness of his girth, one would assume he is wearing some form of armor under it. He wears his cloak low over his head, but his eyes seem to see all, and watch over everything.
On his way to the gate, Mignar is greeted by a few other travelers who he has met on the wary road before. However, unlike his usual practice, he does not break bread with them. His normal and friendly, yet smirk-like, smile is replaced with a solemn and downtrodden face.
As Mignar starts to see the gate, he hastens his pace.
Dareth Ferrar stands a fit 6'1", though his broad and muscular shoulders give him an aura of strength. Everything about his clothing give an air of weariness; from his heavy armor and massive sword to his deep grey cloak that barely drags the ground behind him. His posture and visage give the impression of someone who has gained arrogance from surviving things he aught not have, and his overly pale skin would make the weary wonder if he had survived at all.
Upon arriving in Ravengro, Dareth wastes little time in finding the restlands. Areas like that have always held special interest for him, and though the funeral of Professor Lorrimor is an occasion of sadness, Dareth would never let an opportunity for adventure be missed.
You have gathered in the grey morning at the entrance to the Restlands.
As you arrive you see only a handful of villagers, two well dressed men, an aged lady and a rotund man with a boy who looks to be his son.
Off to the side is a fine coffin containing the body of Professor Lorrimor, and standing nearby is another woman, in a conservative black dress and grey cloak. Her eyes are red and puffy and her face is as grim as the rest of the scene. This is Kendra Lorrimor, the Professor's daughter.
Kendra says to the group as they arrive,"You must be friends of my Father. I am Kendra, Professor Lorrimor's daughter. Thank you, thank you for being here today. With the way things are in town these days, not many people have come to the funeral, and no-one has come by the house to pay their respects to my dear father."
Kendra looks at each of you with a mixture of curiosity and relief, but she asks no questions, her grief still very evident on her face.
I...I know that I don't know each of you, but would any of you be willing to be Pallbearers? There are only three men here...at least one of you?" At this, Kendra begins crying gently.
You understand that it would be bad form to deny Kendra her request, and that this is a very solemn ritual.
" this does make me very sad. Such a great friend of mine would be shamed in such a way... I will gladly be a pallbearer."
Giles gently puts his book in to his bag spits on to his hands then rubs his hands together...
He kinda leans toward mignar " he wasnt a heavy fella was he? " under his breath
Mignar politely nods to the white haired fellow, not wanting to seem rude to the other members of the funeral. Although he had a point: Professor Lorimor seems smaller than he last remembered him.
Mignar looks into Kendra's eyes with a compassionate stare.
"I shall offer my strength to you, and would be honored to serve as your late father's Pallbearer."
"I too shall lend my strength to the late professor in his death as I once did in life"
Dareth discreetly casts Detect Undead when he can do so without being noticed.
to find a discreet time to cast.
What god/gods is this whole thing
Mignar tries to recall what religion & practice this funeral reminds him of.
Giles walks over to the casket looks up and prepares himself.
Mignar follows behind, pulling black the hood of his cloak, revealing his dark face and hair. He pulls his long black hair out, letting it fall on his cloak, creating a grand contrast between light and dark.
Dareth, you do not discern the presence of any undead in the area.
You all take hold of the casket for the late professor Lorrimor, easily hefting the weight, but the weight of the situation bears down on you all the more.
Kierra, with a look of sincere gratitude on her face, says to the group,"Thank you, and let us be off then, Father Grimburrow is already at the burial site, as tradition would have it.
Kendra takes the lead, and begins the somber procession towards the Professor's grave.
The grey clouds and constant drizzle lend atmosphere to the dark day as the funeral procession marches on. After several minutes of walking down the path called "the Dreamwake", you are approaching the halfway point and round a corner onto a seperate path called "the Eversleep". It is at this point that you see the road ahead is blocked by a group of nearly a dozen surly looking locals.
The tallest of these calls out to you, "“That’s far enough. 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!”
Mignar, accustomed to dealing with stubbornness, calls out to the men,
"Might I inquire as to your reasoning, good sirs? And please be succint. While this casket is not terribly heavy, the mood is somber, and I grow impatient."
Mignar, give me a diplomacy check.
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into
anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it
with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already
been...”
The large man, whom Kendra has identified as Gibs Hephenus, a retired soldier, responds"We ain't wantin' to 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.”
Gibs, casts venomous glances at the group, and Kendra, but his tone seems to have softened a step.
Mignar looks to the other members of the funeral procession to see if anyone else shall speak up, or if it will only be his voice which stands to reason.
or
From your personal knowledge of the man, he was not a necromancer. He may have taken interest in Necromancy, but he was not a practitioner.
" come on guys, yes he did look into necromancy but he was definitely not a caster of any kind... he may have been trying to figure out a way to try and defeat necromancers and undead, but he was not involved in creating undead himself."
"Well, there you have it. Perhaps you have been misinformed as to the Professor's deeds. An honest mistake, I'm sure. Now, if you don't terribly mind, I believe we are being quite inconsiderate to Ms. Kendra here, and the casket DOES grow heavier with each passing breath."
he was a student of the mind not an evil master mind... come on people can we please respect this man for his mind and his love of knowledge and not judge him on what he was studying?
The thugs and villagers appear to calm down, some of them muttering parting shots as they sullenly disperse.
Gibs lashes out verbally one last time as he walks away, "You'll want to be leavin' soon! We don't take kindly to the friends of a necromancer, and I don't like the looks a ye lot!"
Mignar smiles to himself, nods to the other that spoke up, then looks to Kendra.
"After you, Ms. Kendra."
Kendra looks at the group, weary and blurry eyed. "Thank you again friends. I apologize that you had to be involved in this. Ignorant people, the lot of them!"
The other funeral attendees, profess their shock at the "attack". The councillors (the two well dressed men)indicate that they recognize the thugs as "local farmhands, all of low character".
"Gentlemen, let us not waste our breath by continuing to talk about them. While they may have acted boorishly today, I'm sure they are justified in their own minds, just as we are in ours.
Let us make haste towards the grave site. I'm sure Father Grimburrow will be wondering what misfortunes might have befallen us, should we take any longer."
With the interruption now past, the somber procession continues up to the plot Kendra purchased for her father.
Father Grimburrow is waiting, beside the plot along with two gravediggers who silently lower the casket into the grave.
Father Grimburrow gives a short sermon "Family and friends we’ve gathered here today to say our goodbyes and to pay tribute to a great man......"
He then invites Kendra to share a few words about her father.
Kendra fights back tears, and briefly recounts a few of her father's more courageous or selfless moments, and thanks everyone once again for coming.
At this, she invites each of you to share a few stories or remembrances.
I never met the man in the flesh but we did share correspondence for many years... I often waited for his witty responses to my research. He had a great mind for interpretation of text. I planed to come in person many times but things always got in the way. I will miss you my old friend
Mignar, his hood over his head, walks to the front of the small crowd, lowers his head, and silently prays to himself. After about thirty seconds of silence, he picks his head up and pulls back the hood of his cloak. His face is emblazoned with a fierce, yet friendly, look, as if the storm-ridden clouds had opened, and a ray of light shone upon his face, despite the fact that it was still drizzling.
“Praise be to Sarenrae, and may Her Light shine upon you in this dark time.
My name is Mignar Gariksson. I am a Master Caliph of Sarenrae, as well as Diplomat to the Virlych Dwarves in the Hungry Mountains. I come before you humbled before this knowledged man.
Professor Lorrimor was a man unknown to me until a few short years ago. He approached me while I was travelling back from my annual visit to the Hungry Mountains. He did not impress me upon first glance, for I was, at that time, accustomed to the burliness of the dwarves, and had not shifted my expectations to those of a more…humble nature.
He asked if I was Mignar the Master Caliph, and if he might walk back with me to my home, Caliphas. I assumed he might be looking for a bodyguard, another role I have frequently occupied, and agreed, assuming he had the proper compensation after we had reached our destination.
During the trip back to Caliphas, the Professor was extremely interested in the story of my encounters with the undead, especially one tale that almost took my life. I will not spend my time here in front of you regaling you with the whole story, but will show you the scar that Professor Lorrimor was so intrigued by.”
At this, Mignar lifts up his sleeve, showing a black handprint emblazoned on his lower arm, as if someone had tried to grab him, leaving a permanent bruise.
“He conveyed that he would like to remain in correspondence with me, even offering me assistance in learning about the foul creatures, should I ever encounter them again. I accepted his offer, along with a tome of some of his notes on the beasts, and accepted them as payment for protecting him on our travels.
And what he spoke next will always remain with me. He said to me, ‘Ah, but it was I who was, and will be, protecting you.’
And while we have been in touch with each other in the time since then, this is unfortunately the first, and last, time I have seen him since that fateful journey.
I leave you with this: We are all blessed with gifts and talents. Some of us are blessed with incredible strength and endurance. Some of us are blessed with innate wisdom and sense. But all of us here have been blessed to have known Professor Lorrimor, a truly unselfish man, who looked to help out those he saw that needed it. I know not how he knew my name, nor why he chose to help me. I can only assume he saw a man in need, and chose to be the man I’m sure you know him to be: A Great One.
Thank you for letting a sentimental one ramble, and may Sarenrae cast Her Light on your life.”
Mignar then pulls the hood of his cloak over his face, casting a shadow over his face, as if dimming the glow it had been seemingly been giving off. He then takes his place in the crowd.
The professor and I met shortly after I first pledged myself to Pharasma. He had questions... Many questions, as everyone did at the time, about how I had survived a recent encounter. Being little more than a child at the time, I had not expected to live myself. Our meeting started with questions, but we both eventually found answers.
Giles, please make a diplomacy or perform check.
Giles, your light-hearted but heartfelt eulogy touched the gathered mourners, as did your sincerity.
Dareth, your seemingly gruff exterior caused your words to be received as distant and the people were not sure if you were sincere or if you just felt obligated to say something.
Mignar, your eloquent speech extolling the virtues of Petros Lorrimor and your seemingly intimate relationship with him brought tears and warm smiles to many faces. You and Giles have impressed the attendees.