Carrion Crown: Chapter One: The Haunting of Harrowstone
Scene One: The Last Will and Testament of Petros Lorrimor
You have each received a letter from the daughter of an old acquaintance, informing you of her father's untimely death. She has requested that you come to her father's home in Ravengro, a small town in western Ustalav, as you have each been mentioned in the Professor's will.
Some of you have traveled far across Golarion to be here, others have made only a short trip. Some have had harrowing adventures along the way; others were treated to a peaceful journey. You are all in Ravengro now.
Numerous small towns dot the fog-shrouded landscape of Ustalav. At first glance, these towns might all seem kindred spirits – cozy collections of quaint buildings surrounded by farmland, their skylines decorated by the steeples of Pharasmin churches or the steep rooflines of colorful taverns. Yet in Ustalav, appearances are often deceiving, and many of the nation’s towns and villages harbor sinister secrets.
Some small towns grow up around a university, their shops and other offerings catering to a scholastic clientele. Others boast famous festivals or specialized industries that draw skilled artisans and craftsmen. But in the sad case of Ravengro, the town’s claim to fame is a prison. And not just any prison, for Ravengro supported one of Ustalav’s most notorious jails – Harrowstone. Twice a year, a prison convoy rounded up the worst of the worst from smaller, less secure jails across the principality and transferred them to Harrowstone, often to await death by hanging, but always to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. Half a century has passed sense criminals were held within the prison’s walls however, not sense a great fire took Harrowstone, killing prisoner and guard alike. Few outside Ravengro know much of what happened those fifty years ago, as it seems the one bit of gossip the locals don’t wish to discuss is their ruined prison.
While Harrowstone has remained a constant reminder of darker times, the town of Ravengro has recovered remarkably. Today, the town is a quite healthy farming community blessed with fertile fields and orchards. The town’s chief products are wheat, barley, and corn. Because the town is close to the shore of Lake Lias, Ravengrians can supplement their food stores with fish, but fishing is not sustainable as a commercial enterprise.
Despite their success, Ravengro’s citizens are the town’s greatest hindrances to expansion. Insular, they take some time to warm to strangers and often damage new opportunities for trade with their standoffish attitudes. Yet as hesitant as the townsfolk are to talk to strangers, they are all to eager to talk about them. Rumormongering and gossip are traditional pastimes among the townsfolk, especially when it comes to strangers.
You have arrived at Ravengro late in the evening, during what some of you would call a downpour, but the locals merely refer to as a pleasant drizzle. Traveling down the road into town you see a number of homes, some modest and dour, though there are a pair of larger affairs, likely the homes to town officials, before coming accross a thick wooden post just off the side of the road, with several papers tacked to it. Looming behind the post is what you will soon discover to be the most extravagant building in Ravengro. A massive stone church dedicated to Pharasma.
Continuing on to the town proper you find the Lorrimor estate, a modest but well cept home with a small garden outside and a smoking stone chimney on it's roof.
The few people of Ravengro who are braving the “drizzle” appear to be simple farmers and craftsmen, much the same as you would find anywhere else in this region of Ustalav, though perhaps they possess a more piercing stare than most others of Canterwall, or a darker expression as they eye you intruding upon their town. Surely there is more whispering as you pass than you are accustomed to.
"Hello, please come in out from the rain. Greetings, I am Kendra, Petros' daughter. You must be (she knows your first name), my father has spoken of you often. Please, come in and warm yourself by the hearth. The weather is tame for this time of year, though unpleasent nontheless. You're the first to arive, though I've prepared coffee and something of an evening meal. There in the kitchen, all is lain out. I appologize, but I must return to the library. My father kept far to well of a record of his travels, and it is daunting going through it all. I will be down shortly, after everyone has arived, to greet you all at once." With that, unless you ingage her in conversation she makes her way to the library and leaves you to your coffee, cured meats, and rhye rolls.
"Hello, please come in out from the rain. Greetings, I am Kendra, Petros' daughter. You must be (she knows your first name), my father has spoken of you often. Please, come in and warm yourself with the others by the hearth. The weather is tame for this time of year, though unpleasent nontheless. I've prepared coffee and something of an evening meal for you all. There in the kitchen, all is lain out. I appologize, but I must return to the library. My father kept far to well of a record of his travels, and it is daunting going through it all. I will be down shortly, after everyone has arived, to greet you all at once." With that, unless you ingage her in conversation she makes her way to the library and leaves you to your coffee, cured meats, and rhye rolls.
I'm dressed in my traveler outfit with my hood on to keep the rain out as best as possible. My armor and most of my gear is on my horse and the only combat equipment I have is my mace at my side.
After knocking on the door and being greeted I start by asking Kendra: "That you for your hospitality. Do you have a barn or shed that I can stable my horse in for the evening?"
Assuming she informs me of such, I'll get the horse stabled/hobbled for the evening, wiping it down and making sure it has access to some food. If there is someplace dry I'll leave my pack on the horse, otherwise I'll bring it in and set it on the floor by the door.
Once that is done I will take a bit of food and look around the house a little bit, occasionally checking out the windows to see what is around.
After stabling his horse Zaroff trudges his way miserably up to the home. Looking up at the household he wrinkles his nose at how modest an abode he has brought himself to. Unloaded pistol and sabre by his sides.
Upon stepping over the threshold and out of the rain Zaroff takes a quick look around the room to see any kind of reminder such as a portrait of the late professor, for he has no clue who he was or why he is included in his will, for he knows faces better than names. Next he says in a dry grumble, "Thanks for your kind hospitality." before finding a spot furthest from whoever is there in the kitchen and proceeding to help himself.
Cold and wet (for in Savola's haste he forgot to pack suitable cloths for bad weather), he finally arrives at the door of his late mentor, Professor Lorrimer. Seeing that at least another has arrive before him, he goes to get his horse stabled before making his presence known at the main door of the estate. Once his horse is taken care of and he is let inside, Savola says, "Thank you very much, Kendra, I will gladly help myself to your coffee. I am sorry we had to meet on such occasion."
Savola does what he says and gets some coffee, he also looks about the house for a fireplace to begin warming himself in front of, preferably one with a comfy chair nearby.
I hardly notice the weather as the boat I traveled on docks. With the boat secured I talk to the owner, he tells me of a small shed I can dump my chest and working clothes in. I change into my robes and head into town with backpack and equipment, using my trident as a walking stick in the mud, nodding politely at townsfolk and personnel at the temple as I pass.
After entering the house I shake the water off and lean my "walking stick" in a corner.
"My dear Kendra, I am so very sorry to hear of your fathers passing, he spoke often and proudly of you when I traveled with him. If you need any assistance with his papers don't hesitate to call upon me.
If you'll excuse me I'll leave you to your grief and your duties for now and join the others."
I follow my nose to the kitchen. Chattering away I gather up a cup of something hot and a plate of food I park myself as close as possible to a heat source to dry out.
"Greetings gentlemen, I am Kjartan, sadly a guest of the family in this sad hour. As sad as the occasion is, I'm glad to meet more of the Professor's friends and colleagues."
Coming in through the rain, Falconer takes a moment to absorb the house of his uncle and the surrounding area. After stabling his horse and making sure that it is well cared for he heads to the front door. Greeting his cousin, he says, "Kendra, sorry I could not arrive earlier. I am sorry for the loss of your father and my uncle. It seems that the heavens are weeping for his loss."
Falconer then moves off to one side and pulls out a sketch pad and starts drawing the room and everyone in it.
"That you for your hospitality. Do you have a barn or shed that I can stable my horse in for the evening?"
"Of course, of course. I'm such a mess now, I didn't even think of your poor horse in this mess outside. Yes, there is a small stable behind the house." Kendra tells you.
The stable is large enough to house five horses comfortably, maybe seven uncomfortably, and has plenty of dry space to store packs.
Upon entering the kitchen area you see a sketch of a man whom you have some vague recollection of.
You'd arrived in time to spy a shadowed form slipping through the mansions courtyard, and in the blink of an eye had your pistol out ready and aimed. The shot rang out, and though you know it struck true, the bastard burglar did not fall. All present were thoroughly impressed with your quick action though. Your employer was wise to not hold you responsible for the successful theft, though it had galled you to have such a stain on your career. It was originally rumor of a jeweled scepter, like what was stolen from your employer, that led you to Ustalav, though that information was directing you to Lepidstadt when you received a letter mentioning this will. Strange that the man who was distracting you while your employer was being assaulted would live in the same country the thief chose to liquidate his spoils?
Savola...there is a pleasently warm hearth in the kitchen, with a breakfast nook style table and several well fashioned wooden chairs.
Will respond to the other two (and the rest as they show up) later. Off to a good start I think.
The cascading rain drives down, pouring off the Inquistrix's broad hat and stout leathers and heavy cloak in sheets. A gloved hand is raised, supporting a bullseye lantern that struggles against the dark and dreariness to coat the roadway before her in a soft glow.
Her shadow has caressed the groud of this village times before this, though rarely under circumstances quite as cheery. The citizenry are certainly aware of her reputation, and her presance anywhere is never a good omen. Their reactions to her sillhouette bare this out. Whether out of fear, respect, or admiration, their behaviors are the same; her thin frame is given unusually wide berth.
No directions are needed as she finds her way through the streets te the estate she has visited before. She lifts the lid on the lantern, snuffing its light before knocking upon the door...
...
... There is a brief flash of discomfort in her eyes at the informal address, but this swiftly passes.
"Well met, if not at the best of times. I am sorry for your loss and thankful for your hospitality."
She stomps the mud from her boots and steps through the doorway, politely doffing her hat, pack, and coat, shaking the loose drops on the threshhold before letting Kendra close the door behind them. Setting her pack on the floor and hanging her coat, cloak and hat on a nearby peg. Her blouse and vest are prim yet highly utilitarian, something one might expect a well-to-do explorer to wear. Aside from her boots and the hem of her skirt, one would not have told she had been in the rain at all. She turns to face the others already assembled. An ornately carved silver key conspicuously hangs around her neck, the chain that bears it is oddly robust for such a small trinket.
Thes first thing her deep blue eye catch are the accessories of a holy man, she racks her brain trying to remember where she's seen such accoutrements before,
but doesn't seem to be able to come up with much more than the name "Gozreh", and even that's a bit hazy. Something about the man's demeanor leaves her unsettled.
But neither he nor any of the other guests had done any wrong (of which she was aware), and she would show proper respect until they proved themselves unworthy of it.
"Gentlemen..." She says, giving a deep curtsy before taking a seat.
After having a bit to eat and drink and watching people come in for a while I have another look around the room and say:
"So since we are here for a funeral I guess we can assume the Professor doesn't have any powerful clerics as friends" I say in a bit of jest.
"I do wonder what happened though, he seemed to know the areas he traveled and always seemed well prepared."
"I am a bit surprised by all of this, for one Kendra actually managing to get a letter to me, as I'm always on the road and there is few places I stay at long. And that Lorrimor and I weren't the closest of friends. I would see him periodically on my travels and we would trade what local rumors and stories we had heard, but we didn't work together all that much"
After taking another drink I stop for a second and think and say:
"Ah yes, I am forgetting something. My name is Lodwinn, and on behave of Desna I hope your travels have been good, if under unfortunate circumstances"
After immediatly following Kendra's instructions as to where I could find a good meal and a place to get warm; I finish my coffee and a light dinner in the kitchen. I then turn my attention to the others that are in the room.
"Well hello there, I assume that we are all acquaintance's of the former Professor Lorrimer. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Savola, and it is my pleasure to meet you all. It's been a while since I was last in Ravengro, I was but a student then, my mentor was Lorrimer himself. I left as soon as I had received Kendra's letter. Even though Lorrimer was my teacher, we had become good friends and found that we could enlighten eachother with what we had learned. I will miss the Professor." I explain as I get up to help myself to more coffee.
Upon hearing the others introducing themselves Falconer sets aside is drawings and moves closer to the group.
"Well seeing as we're giving out names, I am Falconer Icebane, nephew of Lorrimor. So Lodwinn, you knew my uncle through your travels and Savola, you learned from him, correct? May I ask as to how the rest of you knew him?"
Kjartan...Your relieved to arrive at your destination, more so than you thought before climbing aboard that boat. The "captain" was the type of man you see from time to time, who had a story for every occasion, and each story had a precursor as well as a moral that obviously needed explaining...in depth. Many of his stories dealt with a town called Illmarsh, on the eastern shore of Ustalav. If half of what this sailor would have you believe could be called truth, the villagers there are breeding their virgin daughters to walking fish-men, and all worship some great tentacled beast from the stars. Though the stories were obviously little more than drivel, his mention of the tentacled beast-god brings to mind your own history, and the late Professors influence upon you...
Your captors ship had had a successful week, despite your best attentions, and was rich with slaves and plunder. They were to meet another pirate ship on open waters to pay off a debt, and lighten their load, so the whispers amongst crew and slave said. You and the others were roused from your pen and brought topside for inspection. Once the pirates had you all lined up and quieted, a figure appeared and walked slowly down the line, stopping at each slave briefly. Details of the man's appearance seem to avidly avoid your mind's eye, other than he was unreasonably tall though not broad, as well as the pendant he wore in place of a holy symbol. A single eye surrounded by finger length tentacles, which writhed and swayed as though living. When he came before you there began a faint buzzing tone, though no one else gave any sign of hearing it but you. You remember a smile, though there are no features to accompany it. As the buzzing grew louder the man and your owner discussed terms, though you only remember the conversation as it pertained to you. When asked if the tall man wanted you, his answer was "I will take this one in due time, upon the ripening and fracturing of his thoughts. No sooner."
During your brief travels with the Professor you shared this story with him, and peaked his interest. That night as well as many others during the trip, you stayed up late into the evening discussing strange cults and the possible identity of the tall man you encountered.
In the fool who brought you to Ravengro's rambling stories one detail managed to penetrate the wall of practiced disinterest you'd developed for the man...He claimed to have met a man in Illmarsh with a holy symbol consisting of a ball of writhing tentacles kept on a chain around his neck.
Leaning back in my chair, deep thought replacing my normally cheerful demeanor, studying my new acquaintances and trying to shake off the memories brought on by the boats captain during my journey.
My gaze wanders to the Inquisitrix , resulting in a curious lift of the eyebrow, I haven't encountered many of those in my life. I next settle on Lodwinn , in my preoccupied state I'm at a loss for details, but his invocation allows me to relax a bit.
"The professor was obviously a wealthy man in the breadth and variety of his acquaintances. I was lucky enough to accompany him on one of his expeditions in Quadira some years ago, and we have corresponded often, mostly in regards to my assorted studies."
Falconer...Returning to Ravengro is a bitter-sweet experience. It's painfull knowing you will never see your uncle again, and being surounded by some of those nosier folk is a true test of your patients. On the other hand, you still have your cousin Kendra as a living relative, and not all the citizens of Ravengro are as unpleasant as Gibs and his lot.
After calming you both down, Lorrimor sent your friend home and sat you down in his library with a warm chamomile tea. "Falconer, I would like to talk to you about what Gibs did today." He said. "War is a terrible thing that I hope you never have to witness, though I believe we have not seen the last of it in these lands. Gibs was once a good man, young and adventrous, much like yourself. But when he was a young man he joined a mercenary group that was out on a recruitment tour. He and a group of his friends signed up, and went away to who knows where, fighting for foolish reasons. Years later, when he returned, and I do meen only he returned, you could see in his eyes that he was haunted. I don't know if it was his own actions during his time as a sell-sword, or the the actions of others he witnessed that broke him, but surely he returned broken. As many men before him, he turned to drink in an attempt to drown those memories, though that never works for long. I don't believe Gibs would have actually hurt you or the other boy, it seems he is more about loud threats and chest thumping than actually following through with any of what he sais. I would rather you stay clear of his shack from now on though, as full of hot air he may be, he is still troubled, and would likely apreciate the quiet."
In unfortunate contact juggling news, I dropped my bloody ball on my bloody screen and cracked the farging thing...so, all of my books are either boxed up and sealed...or unviewable for the time being...
In unfortunate contact juggling news, I dropped my bloody ball on my bloody screen and cracked the farging thing...so, all of my books are either boxed up and sealed...or unviewable for the time being...
Bummer!
Anything I can do to help from like 700 miles away?
As I notice Kjartan looking at me I take a closer look at him, then back to the trident he left by the door. I look down at my drink and sniff it a time or two and think well if thats not the problem maybe its the solution and head back into the kitchen to see if I can find something a bit stronger.
After finding what there is to find I head back out into the main room. And ask: "So Kjartan, are you from Quadira or just find yourself there for a little adventuring?"
After waiting a bit for his response I then look at Falconer and the woman in the big hat and think a bit about their heritage and the area. I mumble a bit under my breath about being tired and then say: "So have you lived around here your whole lives? I could imagine that the locals might make things a bit hard on you at times."
And again after waiting for what response they will give and still feeling the need for more small talk I ask "So Icebane you must raise birds of prey, have you keep anything particularly interesting and do you have a favorite type?"
As I notice Kjartan looking at me I take a closer look at him, then back to the trident he left by the door. 1d20+7 I look down at my drink and sniff it a time or two and think well if thats not the problem maybe its the solution and head back into the kitchen to see if I can find something a bit stronger.
With a slight renewed smile and a nod
"No Lodwinn, I'm not from Quadira. I'm from the Land of the Linorm Kings. I found myself beached in Jalmaray after being an involuntary working tourist for a while. I was in Quadira copying texts for the temple in Jalmaray when I met the professor. He asked me to join one of his expedition. I learned a great deal from him in a relatively short time. We've been corresponding since."
Clearly taken aback that his presence hasn't drawn the least bit of attention, Zaroff begins to become irritated. As he listens in on these simple exchanges taking place, his brows furrow as the other guests in the house begin to draw on his patience. A brief chuckle almost escaped his lips as the thought of jamming his pistol in the face of the nearest unsuspecting guest and pulling the trigger passed briefly through his consciousness.
A few minutes later Zaroff clears his throat before asking the crowd before him in a deep nobleman's drawl, "When is our gracious host expected to return, I have important business to attend to." (with great emphasis put on 'Important business')
In answer to Lodwinn's questions Falconer says, "I haven't really lived anywhere long since my monk training began. However, I did make frequent visits here to seem my uncle. As for my name and falconry, I in fact do not participate. My parents had a flair for giving things strange and interesting names. Thus Falconer. Yet, at the monastary where I trained we did have several types of birds of prey there. However, unlike my name I found myself drawn to the eagles we kept and I help raise them for the most part, although I currently do not have one of my own."
Turning to Zaroff, Falconer takes a deep bow and says, "Forgive me sir, but I don't believe I caught your name. And, pray tell, what important business do you speak of? As far as I know we are here to morn my uncle's passing and read his will. Is there something else you speak of?"
Eyeing the halfbreed with disgust, Zaroff rises up to his full stature and places his hands behind his back before addressing everyone before him in a very formal manner. "My name is Zaroff Muldoon, and although my business is none but my own I am willing to tell you that it has to do with the man in that sketch on the wall. That man has wronged me in the past and your late Uncle must have had some information on him; information that could possibly lead me to him. I give the family of the deceased my greatest of condolences, but I must find out what the professor knew of this man. This waiting is starting to wear down on my infinite supply of patience."
After concluding his statement he paces towards the fireplace where he proceeds to stoke the fire.
Watching the large man who introduced himself as Zaroff carefully, before shifting my attention back to the others
"Its obvious that the professor knew a great many things about a great many people and subjects. Lodwinn mentioned an absence of powerful clerics for the funeral. When I traveled with the professor in Quadira he certainly attracted or obtained the services of many of much higher ability and station than I suspect most of us represent, which makes us a rather curious group. Given the professors broad contacts I'm not even sure that we are all present yet.
Lodwinn, Savola, from what we've shared so far amongst ourselves it seems that the two of you knew the Professor best, do you know if we can expect anyone else for this gathering?"
Savola had been staring into the bottom of his cup, lost in thought, until the mentioning of his name brought him out of his deep thinking.
It was Lodwinn's mentioning of clerics that had gotten Savola thinking, Professor Lorrimer was a smart man who wasn't afraid and had the resources to afford protection when he needed it. What exactly was the cause of the Professor's death? Some of the people in the room seemed quite capable of killing the professor themselves, namely the man named Zaroff and the woman with the hat who had joined them in the kitchen. If the professor knew so many people, how did Kendra know to contact us? Out of all of the people the Professor had met, what made us so special?
Kjartan's mentiong of Savola's name had snapped him out of his deep thought and said, "I've beginning to wonder that myself, Kjartan. Exactly who else does the Professor know and how did Kendra know to contact us? Of all the people the Professor met on his travels, why us? Who else will be coming tonight, I do not know. But what I also wish to know more of is exactly what was the cause of Professor Lorrimer's death?"
I turn toward the lady in the room, and say "Everyone in this room has introduced themselves, yet you haven't done so. Forgive me for being out of line, but maybe it is you who can shed some light on as to why we are here and who else we may see tonight?"
Cold blue eyes dart from one speaker to the next, absorbing the words and demeanor of each, particularly Zaroff's attitude toward the other half-elf. Her posture within the chair is proper, almost rigid, with her arms draped across the rests as though she were lording over a court. When the conversation turns to her, her eyes widen briefly as she takes a moment to compose herself. She gives no acknowledgment that Lodwinn's question was directed to her as well as Falconer.
"I am the Abadarian Inquisitrix Ravairies, though you may all address me as 'Inquisitrix Rava' or simply 'Inquisitrix.' I am here, as are all of you, to investigate professor Lorrimer's murder. Let us look at the facts of the case. This man had many friends, acquaintances and colleagues, I among them. Had this been merely a matter of his passing, there would be a greater crowd attending this wake than the people here. Even for all his influence, there are no high priests present to attempt a resurrection because there is no need. A soul must be willing to return to the mortal coil for any attempt to be successful. If this were a mundane matter of murder by brigandry or mugging, the reaction would be different than it has been, and a resurrection attempt might be warranted."
Her eyes begin to shimmer as she continues talking and idly rubs the key around her neck.
"But none of these situations are the case. What we have is a small cadre, of what I am willing to bet are specialists, discretely called together from far corners on short notice. Each in their own way I am sure capable of uncovering truth..."
She looks at Falconer, studying him momentarily.
"...whether by instinct..."
She looks to Savola.
"by magic..."
she looks to Lodwinn.
"or might..."
She looks to Kjartan, her eyes narrowing.
"by spontaneity..."
Her gaze lands on Zaroff, her gaze remains narrow.
"or by skulduggery..."
Her gaze returns to the fire as she continues, crossing her legs and folding her arms in her lap.
"Even before our hostess comes to greet us, I think I can safely presume her intent. Our presence here tonight is calculated, gentlemen. Whether by Professor Lorrimer or..."
Her eyes still shimmering, she casts a suspicious gaze towards the steps leading up to the library.
"other parties..."
After listening to Rava's introduction and see her demeanor, I pause for a minute to think. And make a mental note to be wary of someone so quick to jump to conclusions.
"While I have talked with the professor on occasion I didn't work with him much so I don't know whom else we might be waiting for."
And looking at Rava I add: "I think Miss Rava has made some good points though. Certainly a memorial service would draw a lot more people. And most of us to not seem the type to be receiving the Professors favorite clockwork contraption, family heirlooms, and other items of physical value to the professor.
I think its a bit soon to rule out the professor not wanting to come back, or the circumstances of his death. But we are clearly here for some sort of task. Maybe we're just supposed to be debt collectors to gather some IOUs so he can afford to be brought back."
And looking at Zaroff "We'll just have to have some patience until Kendra finishes whatever preparations she is working on and lets us know exactly why we are here"
Paying close attention to the Inquisitrix and her demeanor
"I travel by sea as much as possible, and while on the journey here, I heard things of interest to me personally, but nothing about the professor in particular.
Inquisitrix, you travel a great deal and mentioned the possibility of murder, what rumors have you heard?"
She tilts her head slightly, almost annoyed at the question.
"I don't deal in ‘rumors’ Mariner Kjartan. As a Justice, I must deal in facts. The fact is that the professor's passing is not being handled in a normal or public fashion. The fact is that he has had attempts upon his life before now, one of which was thwarted by my own hand.
She turns toward Lodwinn.
"The fact is, Sir Lodwinn, that the professor and his kin were and are more likely to forgive debts than hire thugs to collect them posthumously. I certainly would not have heeded any summons for ME to act in such a manner. The fact is that the professor was a purveyor of information, and was very liberal with its acquisition and distribution. It's likely that he knew something for which someone wanted him dead and, in this particular incident, he didn't have anyone nearby to save him. Until further evidence is presented, murder is the most likely scenario."
"I did not mean to imply he would hire us to get money for him, simply pointing out that while the Professor might have the means to get resurrected, it requires more money then even powerful people have sitting around. Turning hard assets and personal debts into the money needed isn't necessarily a simple task with the amount needed. Not that I really believed that is what would be asked of us, but that there are more possibilities then a witch hunt against someone unknown group that would keep him from willingly returning to the land of the living."
Directly addressing Inquisitrix Rava:
"Though it obviously seems that you know much more about the situation then the rest of us. My summons said nothing about nature of the task at hand, assuming it is more then a simple will and funeral service, but being a traveler by nature and curious by habit I felt inclined to find out."
Her gaze lands on Zaroff, her gaze remains narrow.
"or by skulduggery..."
Stiffening slightly upon the Inquisitrix's words while stoking the flames of the hearth Zaroff leaves the metal fire iron to rest near the center of the coals before standing and facing the Inquisitrix. Straightening up and returning his hands behind his back, Zaroff says in a deep growl while looking the halfbreed in the eyes with his own 'grey, emotionless' eyes.
"I hope by skulduggery you are refering to the services that you offer, seeing as that no one else in this room match that discription save for you."
"It would seem that none of us, not even the Professors own nephew, know much of anything about the circumstances of his death. I know the message summoning me here only informed me of his death and asked me to attend on this date for the reading of a will. Considering the travel time for messages from here to Jalmaray, its been quite some time. To bring us all hear at this particular time speaks of careful planning and yet, the Professors daughter seems frazzled and unprepared for our arrival.
His death also does not seem to be widely known either, else some of you that live and work in this region would have heard something. Do you even know when the funeral was held and where he was interred?"
Falconer at this point begins to wonder if there really is more to this meeting than the reading of his uncles will.
"Kjartan does seem to have a valid point. I was not informed of the circumstances of my uncle's death, just told to arrive here at this time to hear his will. However, as to my cousins frazzled state, this is probably due to the fact that she has just lost her father, and is still mourning. And even if there is more to this meeting than meets the eye, the first thing we should be thinking about is the reading of the will, thus I advise you all to reserve your judgments and conspiracy theories until it has been read."
After this statement Falconer turns away from the group and begins drawing again.
Addressing Zaroff "Zaroff I don't think she was referring to you, skulduggery implies some amount of subtlety which does not seem to be in your nature"
And turning to Savola "Savola, it seems like you've spent the most time with the professor at least in the recent past, do you know anything more about the attempted murders Inquisitrix has mentioned. And in your time as a student was there any groups or individuals that seemed overly hostile to the professor?"
Looking at Kjartan, I nod and say, "Yes, hopefully Kendra has a good explanation for all of this."
Then turning towards Lodwinn I say, "Let me think about your question for a bit, its been a while since I've been with the Professor..."
Addressing Zaroff "Zaroff I don't think she was referring to you, skulduggery implies some amount of subtlety which does not seem to be in your nature"
With his gaze remaining locked on the Inquisitrix's eyes, Zaroff responds to Lodwinn's comment in his trademark growling drawl. "I am quite aware of the definition of 'Skulduggery' Lodwinn."
Zaroff allows his cold stare to sink in a while longer before slowly turning on his heels to face the hearth. With his left hand still locked behind his back, Zaroff grasps the handle of the fire iron with his right and slowly raises the smoking piece of metal up towards his face so it is clearly visible to those behind him. Gazing at the hot iron, Zaroff says "Any remarks that could gall my reputation shall not be tolerated. Since this is our first meeting I am willing to let this misunderstanding slip by. In the future I will not be so forgiving."
Replacing the fire iron to the hearthside Zaroff again returns his gaze to the rest of the guests before saying. "I agree with Falconer that all these theories mean little. I am sure that our host will fill in all the details we need to know as soon as she returns."
Still relaxed in my chair, brows arched in thoughtful curiosity
"As a matter of curiosity, what is your profession, and therefor by association, your reputation Zaroff? Heck, I haven't figured out what Lodwinn does for a living yet either."
Looking at my empty cup, considering going in search of my pack and the mead that's in it
"Does anyone know if arrangements have been made for the night or if some of us should start looking for an inn?"
Zaroff's reaction is greeted with a bemused smirk, though the smile is significantly more pronounced in her eyes than on her lips. As such, Zaroff is in the best position to see it. Listening closely enough, one could hear her amusement in her voice.
"The reputation of which you speak has not spread so far as to have reached *MY* notice, Mr. Zaroff. You are beginning from scratch with me. But even in these moments, trust that I can see more deeply into the truth of your being than most. Of all present company, you are, undeniably, the most capable of such behavior. If you wish to prove me wrong in this regard, let the evidence be manifest in your actions and your demeanor. You may carry yourself in confident trim, but so far you seem to be establishing your reputation only with impatience and threats, unless of course that is indeed the reputation to which you were referring."
She leans back in her chair, legs still crossed but she once again drapes her arms along the rests.
"You may think little of my observations, but I'm willing to bet that your capacity for deduction and logic is not the reason you were summoned here tonight. Regardless of our opinions of each other, there IS a reason you were summoned, specifically, at the professor's posthumous behest."
She looks to the others in the room.
"As are we all and, while we must wait, more can be done to understand the situation than merely fumbling through the dark for a purpose until it is handed to us."
At this point Falconer finishes his drawings and starts passing out portraits of the people in the room, , these portraits portray each of the subjects as they stand in the room and during the conversation.
I take my picture from Falconer as he hands it to me and look at it and remark "I hope my nose isn't really that big. I'm only kidding, I think it is very nice"
And then turning to Zaroff and with a bit of a chuckle say "You really should learn to relax a little bit. Taking life too seriously only makes it more difficult. I figure with the gloom of the events bringing us here, the bad weather, and a long trip on the road we could all use a bit of fun"
"Kjartan, as for what I do, I am simply a traveler. I live off the land and do my part to further the ideas of Desna, helping other travelers where I can and bringing justice to those that would take away the freedom of others."
"As for lodging, I don't know about anyone else but normally I'm happy to be out under the stars. Given a night like tonight a barn might be nice though."
Studying the sketch given to me by Falconer, then glancing at Lodwinn
"There's definitely a need for people like you out there Lodwinn. I could have used your services years ago myself. And like you, the open sky is often my roof.
Looking back to Falconer
"This is pretty good Icebane, you can title it "The Sleepy Thirsty Priest"."
Watching Zaroff over the top of Icebane's sketch.
Knowledge (Geography)
Knowledge (Nobility)
Sense Motive
Wondering how he'll react to the general non-reaction to his display with the hot poker and Rava's continued needling.
Finally shifting my attention to Falconer.
"Where have you been doing most of your training Icebane? I haven't met monks of your sort before."
Falconer turns to Kjartan after he finishes passing out his portraits.
"My basic training took place at the main temple of Irori. However, as you can see by this medallion I am no simple monk. I am what is called a Monk of the Four Winds, meaning I am more in touch with the natural world than many others. The training I received in this area took place in the wilderness, the only place one can truly get to know the world better.
"And you? Where have you wandered and received your training?"
The first manifestation of any emotion finally emerges from the stonelike vesige that is Zaroff's face. The clearly visible muscles of his face slightly raised the right side of his lip for the briefest of moments in something that might have been considered a grin. Before he once again speaks in the direction of the Inquisitrix in his accented growl."Your persistence is admirable, but wasted. My worth is proven in blood, not only in my own noble blood, but in the blood I have spilt in the name of the Lords and Lady's I have served. I will make no comment on the worth of your own diluted blood...."
Zaroff is abruptly interrupted by the passing out of portraits, of which he pauses to admire his own portrait before casually tossing it into the fire behind him. After which he turns his attention to Falconer and says. "That was an honest attempt to capture my image, of which I commend you. I must now ask you if you could attempt a sketch of the late Professor Lorrimer, for I am not sure how I am acquainted to him."
Pulling his pocketwatch out from his breast pocket and glancing down at the clocks face he responds to Lodwinn's Jest, before returning the intricate device to his pocket. "Time waits for no man Lodwinn. We must make the most of the time given to us."
I am not sure what a knowledge(geography) and a sense motive roll would imply, and I am pretty sure that the good knowledge(nobility) roll finds out what kind of nobility and background Zaroff has. But I dont want to step on Fraust's toes so I am going to wait and see what he thinks I should give up.
Zaroff is abruptly interrupted by the passing out of portraits, of which he pauses to admire his own portrait before casually tossing it into the fire behind him. After which he turns his attention to Falconer and says. "That was an honest attempt to capture my image, of which I commend you. I must now ask you if you could attempt a sketch of the late Professor Lorrimer, for I am not sure how I am acquainted to him."
In response to Zaroff's request Falconer bows and once again pulls out his drawing tools.
"A portrait of my uncle. Hopefully this will help clear up some of your confusion. And if I may make a request: Do. Not. Throw. My. Work. Into. The. Fire."
She takes Falconer's sketch nonchalantly at first, but as she begins inspecting it her gaze softens. The picture of her examining the image looks like something out of an Escher drawing. She speaks softly, to no one in particular, half distracted.
"The most noble of lies is still beneath the most meager of truths...."
She moves a hand to the collar of her shirt and adjusts it, as though noticing something out of place captured by the sketch.
"Thats not an easy question to answer Icebane, we do all seem to be wanderers here. My official training is divided between temples in southern Linorm, my birth home, and Jalmaray, my re-birth home. I've seen a bit here and there of most of the major continents and islands, but my preferred wilderness is the sea.
The Inquisitrix wasn't too far off the mark when she addressed me as "mariner", but with all due respect to true mariners, I don't have the real experience claim that title. I do know enough though to travel cheaply by hiring on as a common seaman when ever I can travel by ship. And most ships masters are generally more than happy to have one such as myself aboard that stands well with the Lord of Wind and Waves."
I slip a scroll tube from a pocket of my robe, and with practiced ease, roll the drawing and slip it inside for safe keeping.
After thinking long and hard about Lodwinn's question I tell Lodwinn, "No, I was never aware of anybody that was hostile towards the professor. However, Professor Lorrimer seemed to be concerned with necromancy. Though he never told me about why he was bothered by it, he would often mutter to himself about necromancy."
I graciously accept Falconer Icebane's sketch of me and after seeing he portrayed the Professor in the other drawing I remark, "Thank you very much for this picture. Though it has been a while since I have seen the Professor, you have captured his likeness efficiently. I am afraid I am curious, if it not much of a bother, how you learned to draw like this? You say you are a monk however, I am not sure how practicing the art of drawing fits into your training?"