[ooc]Looks like Stars (Wis, DM hint) and N (Augury as per spell), assuming I'm reading that right. Kind of appropriate for an inquisitor of the goddess of prophesy.
Under the circumstances, Theodric keeps his hood pulled up, to keep others from having to see his disfigured face as he approaches the coffin. Upon reaching the coffin, the man bows his head and mutters a short prayer to the Lady of Graves for the benefit of the man he once knew. He then approaches Kendra...
"You have my condolences, your father will be missed by many." he says before taking a seat.
A young women stands near the front of the procession. She is marked with a number of Varisian tattoos including several of the holy symbol of Pharasma, but unlike most Varisians she is quite pale with almost white hair. She doesn't look sad but a haunted quality is in her eyes that belies her simple beauty. She wears a rugged studded leather vest and weatherproof skirt, with several weapons on her back. As with some of the others she looks like she just arrived from the road and has done her best to clean herself up for the funeral.
Sarrah walks up to Kendra, trying to hide a slight hitch in her stride, Kendra, I am sorry for your loss. It saddens my heart to see the professor gone. He was a good man, a decent man, who helped others. If there is anything I can do to help you or the family, please let me know, I am at your service. she says in a soft voice.
She fades back into the group of people to wait for the procession to begin, looking over the other faces in the crowd to see if she sees anyone else she knows.
Dex, take an immediate action.
Lawful Neutral +10 to a sense motive check.
A rather ugly, well muscled and stocky half-orc dressed in simple travelling robes stands uncomfortably with the rest of you. His single eye darts over you all, but quickly looks away if eye contact is made. His posture speaks of tension and a guarded demeanour, and when he speaks it is a quiet rumbling, although well-spoken. An ornate falchion is sheathed on his back, underneath an expensive looking backpack, and a silk eyepatch is worn over his left eye- not quite large enough to hide the horrific scar that starts above the eyepatch and reveals itself beneath it too.
Greetings everyone... I am Morven Greigor, its... nice to meet you all. Thankyou for the invitation Kendra. Forgive me my curiousity, but how did your father pass into the Boneyard?
Tragic.
Turning to the others, Morvens single eye squints.
Well? Are you going to introduce yourselves?
Tragic.
Turning to the others, Morvens single eye squints.
Well? Are you going to introduce yourselves?
My my Mr. Greigor, aren't you the impatient type... she smiles to let you know she is joking my name is Sarrah. I was once a student of the professor's for a short time. And you how do you know the professor?
Kendra takes a deep breath before answering. "My father was investigating the ruins of Harrowstone Prison. After several days, a few of the sheriff's men went to investigate and found him lying on his back near one of Harrowstone's walls. The stone face from a gargoyle from the roof above fell and the heavy block crushed him. He... he must have died instantly."
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you." A woman near the back of the crowd speaks a bit louder than she intended and quickly changes position in the little assembly to evade turned gazes. She was a late arrival, alighting from the coach just as the procession was gathering, and is still holding a traveling satchel dangling awkwardly from one hand. A bookish woman, her coloring and accent mark her as not a native to Ustalav. Beneath her cloak, she wears what are unmistakeably a scholar's robes, and her eyes are squinting a little against the dim natural light and the wind; she is obviously no outdoorswoman.
A young man stands near the head of the procession in simple trews, shirt and boots. He looks like any other villager aside from being more or less a head taller and the fine looking falchion strapped to his back.
He says nothing initially but studies the half orc and then the hooded man very intently almost as if he was trying to divine something from them..
His face still deep within his hood, Theodric speaks up...
"Well met, Sarrah and Morven. I am Theodric Mikalos, I met the professor long ago when we had a run in with some dead folks who didn't have the good sense to stay dead."
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you."
Theodric glances in the direction of the comment...
"And here I though I lacked social graces..."
A small halfling in a fine long coat and equally fine hat walks up to the casket of the late professor Petros Lorrimor and places a white exotic plant on the lid. He bows his head and whispers a few sentences ending with a deep saddened sigh. Then he looks up an approaches Kenda.
"You must be Kendra. I am so sorry for your loss", he says in a clear melodic tone while taking a deep bow. "My name is Quiddling Cane, i was a student of your father during his stay in Absalom. He spoke very highly of you and it saddens me deeply that we first meet under these dire circumstances." The halfing then takes a seat next to the hodded Theodric.
Quiddling shivers slightly as he hears Kendra's retelling of the professors death.
Tragic.
Turning to the others, Morvens single eye squints.
Well? Are you going to introduce yourselves?
Quiddling springs to his feet and gives a sweeping bow as he introduces himself to the half-orc. "Quiddling Cane, at your service. As i was just telling young lady Lorrimor i had the privilege of studying under the professor as he taught at the great university of Absalom". The halfling finishes the sentence with yet another grand sweeping motion.
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you." A woman near the back of the crowd speaks a bit louder than she intended and quickly changes position in the little assembly to evade turned gazes. She was a late arrival, alighting from the coach just as the procession was gathering, and is still holding a traveling satchel dangling awkwardly from one hand. A bookish woman, her coloring and accent mark her as not a native to Ustalav. Beneath her cloak, she wears what are unmistakeably a scholar's robes, and her eyes are squinting a little against the dim natural light and the wind; she is obviously no outdoorswoman.** spoiler omitted **
Quiddling turns around to eye the woman disapprovingly. "Some people have no manners, isn't that right?", he whispers to the inquisitor to his right and then twitches as he sees the man's burnt face.
His face still deep within his hood, Theodric speaks up...
"Well met, Sarrah and Morven. I am Theodric Mikalos, I met the professor long ago when we had a run in with some dead folks who didn't have the good sense to stay dead."
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you."Theodric glances in the direction of the comment...
"And here I though I lacked social graces..."
Sarrah looks you right in the eye, the burns on your face garnering no reaction from the young women, Mr. Mikalos, it is good to meet you as well, although the ciucumstances could be better. You will have to tell me that story at some point. It is always interesting to hear of souls undeath corrupting their journey to my mistresses judgement.
My my Mr. Greigor, aren't you the impatient type... she smiles to let you know she is joking my name is Sarrah. I was once a student of the professor's for a short time. And you how do you know the professor?
I happened to bump into an assassin targeting him at the Acadamirium. Long story short, the Professor survived and I took a dagger for my troubles. The Professor hung around for days until I eventually recovered. He was... a kind man. Morven says stiffly, clearly a little uncomfortable telling the tale.
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you."
The professor was a great explorer, from what i've heard. I prefer to keep my studies indoors, but there is a place for expedition academia.
"Well met, Sarrah and Morven. I am Theodric Mikalos, I met the professor long ago when we had a run in with some dead folks who didn't have the good sense to stay dead."
Well met to you too, Theodric. Come out from under the hood, i'm sure your prettier than me with these scars and this excuse of an eyepatch... Morven tries to make it sound light hearted, but it sounds like more of a growling challenge.
"Quiddling Cane, at your service. As i was just telling young lady Lorrimor i had the privilege of studying under the professor as he taught at the great university of Absalom".
Absalom... I have heard wonderful things from the journeymen students. You are fortunate indeed.
Glancing around at you all, Morven snorts in amusement.
No insults to my heritage? No racist comments for me? Unexpected. We are off to a good start... Must be the funeral vibe making people play nice. Well, most people... he finishes with a pointed glare at Corinne.
Well met to you too, Theodric. Come out from under the hood, i'm sure your prettier than me with these scars and this excuse of an eyepatch... Morven tries to make it sound light hearted, but it sounds like more of a growling challenge.
No insults to my heritage? No racist comments for me? Unexpected. We are off to a good start... Must be the funeral vibe making people play nice. Well, most people... he finishes with a pointed glare at Corinne.
Theodric chooses to remain deep within his hood, though you catch what appears to be faint smile on the man's ruined face.
"Insults to one's heritage are for the weak of mind and soul. We can not always choose what face we wear, I prefer to judge men on their deeds."
Morven snorts in amusement once more.
And yet the sting of words has obviously shown you that most of the rest of the world doesn't feel the same way, or you wouldn't wear that hood... Me, as soon as I can master a little more transmutation you won't be seeing this face in public again...
Morven snorts in amusement once more.
And yet the sting of words has obviously shown you that most of the rest of the world doesn't feel the same way, or you wouldn't wear that hood... Me, as soon as I can master a little more transmutation you won't be seeing this face in public again...
"I could normally give a damn what the rest of the world thinks of me and my appearance, but given the occasion, I choose to try and not be a distraction." he says, ever so briefly pulling back the hood to show the scarred mass that makes up the left side of his face.
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you."
The professor was a great explorer, from what i've heard. I prefer to keep my studies indoors, but there is a place for expedition academia.
...
No insults to my heritage? No racist comments for me? Unexpected. We are off to a good start... Must be the funeral vibe making people play nice. Well, most people... he finishes with a pointed glare at Corinne.
The scholarly woman bristles and blushes at the same time as she steps closer to the half-orc; when she speaks this time, her tone is more modulated so only those in this little knot can hear. "I meant only that the Professor's loss was senseless. Surely, there were people he could have hired to investigate this dangerous prison and bring back whatever data he needed to the safety of the laboratory. Is not academia markedly lessened by the loss of such a great man?"
The scholarly woman bristles and blushes at the same time as she steps closer to the half-orc; when she speaks this time, her tone is more modulated so only those in this little knot can hear. "I meant only that the Professor's loss was senseless. Surely, there were people he could have hired to investigate this dangerous prison and bring back whatever data he needed to the safety of the laboratory. Is not academia markedly lessened by the loss of such a great man?"
"Hmph. That's what field work will get you."
The professor was a great explorer, from what i've heard. I prefer to keep my studies indoors, but there is a place for expedition academia.
...
No insults to my heritage? No racist comments for me? Unexpected. We are off to a good start... Must be the funeral vibe making people play nice. Well, most people... he finishes with a pointed glare at Corinne.
Hello, I am Sarrah. You might be correct in your logic but when it is time for you to stand judged before Pharasma, it is time. Actions and decisions are useless against the vastness of fate. I can feel it in my bones, it was simply the professor's time to leave us. We should rejoice in what he had given to each of us, we all seem to have been touched by him in one way or another...
Absalom... I have heard wonderful things from the journeymen students. You are fortunate indeed.Glancing around at you all, Morven snorts in amusement.
No insults to my heritage? No racist comments for me? Unexpected. We are off to a good start... Must be the funeral vibe making people play nice. Well, most people... he finishes with a pointed glare at Corinne.
"Oh yes, quite fortunate. But i have been down right blessed to have had the great professor Lorrimor as a teacher", Quiddling responds and then looks around a the gathering. "I must say that i'm surprised to see such a low turnout to honor this great scholar. Appearently his genious is lost on his home town."
The daughter mentioned fear among the peasants... I suspect there is more to this tale.
"Well, it is not uncommon for simple folk to exhibit fear towards matter they cannot grasp nor understand", Quiddling muses. "It would not be the first time nor will it be the last. It saddens me that it is a fate that affects our dear professor."
"Corinne Dunbar. You might have noticed my work on the phenomenology of the summoned fire beetle ... no? Well, I assure you, it was quite well received in conjuration circles. It's really become the text on the consciousness of the summoned phosporescent arthropod." She glances around the foggy rural landscape darkly. "I don't know why the professor's family would choose to bury him here anyway, where his genius was obviously so little appreciated. He could have lain in state in the rotunda of the Arcanamirium, I'm sure. Of course, for all his genius, there's certainly no denying the fact that he was a little odd," she finishes, with an air that expresses it's only what you could expect from a field researcher.
Walking after the townspeople, Morven swiftly introduces himself and says-
I gather the Professor was well liked. Why would the townspeople fear the Graveyard? Do the dead walk here?
Zokar Elkarid clears his throat and pipes in, "But you have nothing to fear in the Restlands. Father Grimburrow keeps the dead restful and at peace."
He was a man of vast knowledge, sometimes he lost me as well in his deeper discussions. To be honest I am more of a commoner than an academic, I was just lucky enough to have a sponser. Is father Grimburrow the local priest of Pharasma?
"In fact, Father Grimburrow and a pair of gravediggers are already waiting at the site of the professor’s burial. As part of local tradition, they do not accompany the procession from the gate to the grave."
"Why is that?" Corinne asks, a bit sharply, peering into the graveyard.
Satisfied the odd strangers are not a threat, Stannis gives his name to any who are interested but otherwise just stays silent. He listens intently at the discussion on the local dead but otherwise just waits. "Nothing is happening here. Listen to this will and then move on. Hmm I can be in Thimbleshire by nightfall.." He thinks"
Theodric sits back and listens to the conversations around him, while looking around at the rest of the mourners, trying to get a feel for who they are...
The inquisitor then looks up and ask Kendra...
"What was it your father was seeking at Harrowstone?"
Zokar Elkarid answers Corinne. "When the Whispering Tyrant ruled the land, such was the darkness that the dead would stir themselves from the earth and roam the countryside. Since a graveyard contains so many, it was necessary for a priest to enter first to make sure that the way was safe for any villagers who wished to bury their dead. This is also why they used to separate the arms and legs from the bodies of the dead, in case they came to life again they could not escape from their coffins. We no longer mutilate our dead, but we still send a priest ahead of our pallbearers to make sure the way is safe."
Corinne seems to grow even more nervous as Zokar explains their custom and, when he mentions dismembering the corpses, gives the nearby coffin an alarmed glance. "Quite reasonable, too," she replies, hugging herself against the damp. "This Father Grimburrow, formidable fellow, is he?" she asks hopefully.
Satisfied the odd strangers are not a threat, Stannis gives his name to any who are interested but otherwise just stays silent. He listens intently at the discussion on the local dead but otherwise just waits. "Nothing is happening here. Listen to this will and then move on. Hmm I can be in Thimbleshire by nightfall.." He thinks"
Having met everyone except for the most heavily armed stanger of the group, Goodday, I am Sarrah. I see you have been listening to the conversations of these fine folk but not particpating. I understand, it is hard for many of us to deal with loss. Did you know the professor well?
His questions satisfied, Morven follows the procession.
Theodric raises his hand and stands...
Between her small stature and other issues Sarrah sits quietly.
"I would be honored to", Quiddling speaks up, "but i am afraid that my small stature, usually a great asset, in this case serves as more of a hinderance. "
I insist... Morven says, moving over to assist.
Satisfied the odd strangers are not a threat, Stannis gives his name to any who are interested but otherwise just stays silent. He listens intently at the discussion on the local dead but otherwise just waits. "Nothing is happening here. Listen to this will and then move on. Hmm I can be in Thimbleshire by nightfall.." He thinks"Having met everyone except for the most heavily armed stanger of the group, Goodday, I am Sarrah. I see you have been listening to the conversations of these fine folk but not particpating. I understand, it is hard for many of us to deal with loss. Did you know the professor well?
We are a people well used to loss but I did not know him well in truth. Only met him the once. He speaks slowly and carefully in a heavy local accent.
He travelled with a ... a friend of mine who did. It is for her I am here. Once the will is read I will be on my way.
He pauses for a few moments. I am being rude. I am sorry. I am not much of a talker and more used to the road.
Stannis is probably about as muscled as the half-orc. He will move to take the opposite side.
"Necromancer? What facts are you relying on has to draw such a preposterous conclution?", Quiddling says as he comes trodding from the back.
