Tibideau catches sight of the descending insects and lets out a small squeal. "Ewwww! Bugs! Get me away!" He begins sets down his corner of the coffin. "Dantrian! Are these mindless creatures?"
Status: HP 8/8
Initiative 16
Dantrian informs the group of the name of these small creatures while setting down the coffin.
Initiative 14
Anton does his part to lower the coffin.
Initiative 10
Tibideau also lowers the coffin down to the gravel of the path.
Initiative 8
B'Yelka's whip lashes out and 'tickles' the Stirge that is draining the blood from Drosil. It cuts one of the creature's wings off, setting the other three to buzzing furiously as it drinks. The sucker stuck under Drosil's collar bone is jerked all over the place causing him a great deal of pain.
Initiative 6
"Stirges!? What in the Nine Hells..." Kendra curses, turning towards Drosil. She raises one hand and says "חומצה". Her palm glows green, and a small globe of acid goes flying from it towards the Stirge.
The beast sizzles as a large part of its back is eaten away.
Drosil, feeling a little faint, attempts to disengage himself from the stirge...
Round 2
Initiative 2
Status: Normal
Setting the coffin down, Janos stands and draws a small axe from his belt in a single fluid motion. He whips around and slashes at the stirge attached to one of the villagers. "Filthy swamp bugs!"
Round 2
Initiative 5
Drosil manages to slip out of the Stirge's grasp, stepping away from it.
Initiative 2
Janos slashes at the Stirge attached to the villager, but misses.
End of Round 2
---------------------
Begin Round 3
Stirges 27
Mob 20
Dantrian 16
Anton 14
Tibideau 10
B'Yelka 8
Kendra 6
Drosil 5
Janos 2
Initiative 27
The stirges attempt to reattach themselves to the closest living beings.
The villager is punctured again, as he squeals like a stuck pig. Drosil manages to nimbly dodge out of the way of the other stirge's clawed feet.
Initiative 20
The villagers frantically claw at the creatures sucking out their blood, attempting to escape.
One of the men manages to escape and starts to run off, clutching the huge bloody hole in his neck. "Damn you witches, damn you!" he shouts as lurches away.
Round 3
Dantrian hurries over to the nearest local still struggling with a stirge, "Bah! Hold still you dull-witted oaf. I'm trying to help you!" Exasperation is plain in his voice as he tries to rip the creature from the man's body.
He replies to Tibideau over his shoulder as he struggles with the stirge, "Could you not hear me over your clothes, Mr. LeClerc? They are stirges! And while they aren't technically insects, they certainly aren't intelligent." He projects his voice louder then, shouting so that everyone, including the townsfolk can hear, "If you've been bitten by one of these winged vermin, hasten to the town healer! These creatures are unclean and their bite can carry any number of diseases!"
HP: 10/10
AC: 15 (11 T / 14 FF)
CMD: 14
F/R/W: +3/+3/+0
Hero Points used: 0/1
Prepared 1st Level Extracts (1+1): enlarge person [ ], open [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
none
"Well whatever they are, by Desna's grace let's finish them - and quickly!"
Anton draws his longbow with the the practiced smoothness of a man that has loosed a thousand feathers in his time - and fires true!
B'yelka stops the rowdy tavern song mid-chorus and begins a slow lullaby focusing on the nearest Stirge. Her smooth voice croons and it is plain by her expression she is worried it won't work.
Tibideau glares at Dantrian. Oh MY word! How rude! He clearly knows nothing about the latest Taldan fashions. "Be careful with your words, Mr. Almaeus! I may be forced to bedazzle your garments when you least expect it! I daresay I shouldn't look at you for too long, lest your outfit casts Oppressive Boredom on me!"
Tibideau turns to face Drosil and the stirge, and bellows the same ancient command he used on the leader of the toughs.
Round 3
Initiative 16
Dantrian reaches out and rips the Stirge off the villager, and is now wrestling with the small creature.
Initiative 14
Anton fires his bow at one of the Stirges, piercing it clean through, and dropping it to the ground where it twitches for a moment before lying still.
Initiative 10
Tibideau invokes a word in draconic, and the Stirge next to Drosil falls to the ground, apparently asleep.
Initiative 8
B'Yelka draws her sword and stops singing. The Stirge in Dantrian's grasp stops moving for a moment when the music stops and then begins twitching and thrashing randomly.
Initiative 6
Kendra, seeing the situation well under control simply raises her hand should more acid be needed.
Janos moves around the coffin to where Dantrian is wrestling with the stirge. "Hold it out, and be still!" Janos tries to slash at the stirge the Alchemist is holding.
Drosil, seeing that the beast that attacked him has fallen to the ground, runs to help the others.
He swings his sap wildly, almost hitting Dantrian in the process. ...and I was doing so well...
Careful! We've got enough problems with the stirges, we don't need to be flailing around with saps. There's something very familiar about that man though....
Anton has no time to think on it now as he moves to nock another arrow.
Round 3
Initiative 5
Drosil tries to swat the Stirge that Dantrian is holding, but misses.
Initiative 2
Janos on the other hand brings the thing close to death with a slash of his blade.
End of Round 3
---------------------
Begin Round 4
Stirges 27
Mob 20
Dantrian 16
Anton 14
Tibideau 10
B'Yelka 8
Kendra 6
Drosil 5
Janos 2
Initiative 27
The stirge that Dantrian is holding tries to stick its proboscis into him.
It succeeds and manages to drink some of Dantrian's blood.
Initiative 20
The two remaining villagers run off in the direction of town. Leaving only the five funeral members still cowering a few paces away.
B'yelka sees the bird-bat-bug thing jab Dantrian in the arm and tries to think, I don't mind testing my scourge near a stranger, but Master Almaeus is a good man...I should make sure neither this peasant nor the bird-bat-bug thing don't do anything untoward should they awake.
Dantrian growls and mutters as he wrestles with the the blood-sucking stirge, "Argh! Blasted stirge, you don't want any of my blood. Trust me."
HP: 9/9 (normally max 10)
AC: 15 (11 T / 14 FF)
CMD: 14
F/R/W: +3/+3/+0
Hero Points used: 0/1
Prepared 1st Level Extracts (1+1): enlarge person [ ], open [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
1 Con damage
grappled
Dantrian reaches out and pops the Stirge like a massive blood blister, adding a wide stain of crimson to his otherwise dull accoutrements.
End Combat
After the last of the pests is put to rest, the five cowering townsfolk cautiously rise to their feet and brush the dust off their clothing. Kendra puts her hands to her mouth and says, "Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you! I can't believe that just happened. Without you six here, I don't know what I would have done." She wipes the remaining tears from her eyes and looks in the direction of the retreating thugs "I hope they'll be okay. I recognize those men..."
Just as she's saying this the two older gentlemen in suits approach. The fat one says, "My name is Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, and this is Councilman Gharen Muricar. I also recognize those men, all local farmhands of low character. I must express my shock and dismay at their behavior, and hope you won't judge all of Ravengro for it. People around here are distrustful of strangers, but this was taking it too far!" The old man is sweating profusely despite the cold, and it seems from the paleness of his face that he hasn't seen that much excitement in years.
Drosil walks over to the unconcious stirge and draws his rapier. Not exactly the ceremony I was expecting, that's for sure... He stabs the stirge through the base of the...well, what seems like it would be the neck, anyway.
With that done, he cleans his blade on his cloak and walks over to the councilmen, attempting to size them up and confirm their intentions towards the outsiders.
"Gentlemen, these are difficult times for us all. Don't bother yourself over actions over which you have no control - I only hope that your position within the town is not in jeopardy as a result."
Tibideau pats Kendra consolingly on her forearm. "There there Kendra, we're just thrilled to have been of service."
He turns to the two Councilmen and smiles broadly. He succeeds in suppressing an expression of disgust at Councilman Hearthmount's excessive perspiration. I will definitely be holding the behavior of these classless ruffians against them. "Good sirs! Of course we won't hold the behavior of a few bad apples against you or your town!"
B'yelka watches Drosil dispatch the bat-bug-thing and wonders We should have found a cage for it to see why it was reacting so directly to my song...
The Diva turns to the cowering councilmembers and smiles, "Sirs, this travesty was clearly not supposed to have happened. In light of the Prfoessor's funeral," B'yelka sheaths her rapier, "and that regardless of the seriousness of these ruffian's trangressions, we can find it in ourselves to let it rest easy." The scourge goes in loops and is hung from it's place on her hip, opposite the blade. "We see no need to pursue any action against them. I hope you will let others no that we are not interested in conflict in this town. Let the villagers know that we did not spill their blood, and we did not bring these 'stirges' down on them. In fact we protected them from this uncalled for attack, and shed blood to defend them."
I would hate to have to spend my time here apologizing for accidentally knowing this strange Lorimorr...
The councilman initially seems to disbelieve the magnanimity of the party, but is willing to accept their reassurances. "Thank you. I will do that. I think most of those men have never been that scared in their life, and poor Jack over there," he says pointing to the unconscious thug near Drosil, "is bound to have a potato sized lump to remind the others of their foolishness. I will make sure to give them a stern dressing down, especially the man that led them. They will know in no uncertain terms that that sort of behavior will land them straight in jail in the future."
Just about this time an small withered old man comes striding down the Eversleep from the east. He's bald headed and clean shaven, with large bushy white eyebrows. His small chin and saggy wrinkled neck make him look somewhat like a vulture. He's dressed in the vestments of a Pharasmin priest, and behind him come two common looking men with wooden shovels. "What's going on here?" The old priest asks, "We heard a commotion from over at the gravesite. Is everything okay?" His voice is gravely and intense.
B'yelka looks at the new arrivals and assumes they are the burial crew. She turns to Kendra and Tibideau and says, "Miss Lorimorr, are these the men who would inter your father?" If they are, maybe they can be convinced to help us get along in this Gods-forsaken backwater.
When no one is looking B'yelka does her best to get rid of any mud that made it's way onto her skirt. It would not do to be see as sloppy, even if it could be forgiven in weather like this
Didn't realize I needed to maintain the grapple. Thanks for speeding it along despite my stumbling through the still sometimes obtuse grapple rules =)
Dantrian takes the opportunity to share some of his knowledge with those who might listen just before Drosil exterminates the remaining stirge. "See these wings, how they are leathery and membranous instead of insectoid? Also note the lack of thorax and the extremely fine coat of light fur here on its back. Despite how much these creature might remind you of overgrown mosquitoes, they actually have more traits in common with mammals than they do insects."
He rises then, nodding to Drosil that he could finish his grisly work, and brushes futilely at the large stain upon the front of his coat and vest.
His listens mutely as the councilman addresses the group and then turns silently to regard the Pharasmin priest as he approaches, content to let others deal with the locals considering how poorly things turned out when he last addressed them just a few minutes prior.
Anton loops his bow back across his shoulder as he approaches the men.
"Councilmen, Father." he nods by way of greeting. "I am glad you are unharmed Miss Lorrimor, this entire event should never have happened. I'm sure I speak for all these fine individuals when I say we were glad to have been on hand. But it looks like I am the lone voice of dissent. I absolutely cannot accept what those men have done today. I've travelled from one end of Varisia to the other and never seen an insult of such malice. Those men should be in the stockade before nightfall!"
Turning to the other pallbearers he says;
"Anton Klasnic, I'm glad to meet you all, I just wish it were under different circumstances. Are you alright?" he says specifically to those injured by the stirges.
Kendra nods to B'Yelka "This is father Grimburrow. Father, we were attacked by a mob, and then a few seconds later by these Stirges." She tells the priest.
The old man's eyebrows rise at Kendra's words. "Bring the wounded close to me. I will channel the Lady's power to heal everyone."
Drosil, hearing the offer of aid from the priest, steps closer. "Thank you, Father, for any help you might provide. Also, if you would confirm that that unconscious individual is okay - I did give him quite a thump."
"Drag him over lad. Iffin he aint dead this should help him out."
"I have to agree with Anton somewhat. If these bugs hadn't appeared, those men were going to do their best to disrupt the burial. Two of them even tried to attack me." He sighs. "I think they were doing it out of fear, but it doesn't excuse their disturbance of a holy rite. A stern talking to might work for most of those men, but the leader should be jailed, if only for a night. Just to show the town won't tolerate that kind of behavior."
Janos helps with the unconscious man and any other wounded. He checks to confirm their injuries aren't life threatening and assist Father Grimburrow in tending to the wounds.
Drosil drags the body over nearer the priest and reflects on the events of the morning thus far. I thought the prejudices of this place were exaggerated, but apparently not. Even so, I was awfully quick to bring my sap to bear against this one...
He considers for a moment, I guess that would explain Miss Lorrimor's response to my earlier jest - it was clearly not received as it was intended. I need to be especially careful around these townsfolk.
Drosil glances at Anton, I also need an ally.
The councilman thinks for a second, then looking like he might regret it later says to Anton and Janos, "Alright, I'll report the men to Sheriff Caeller. He'll see their punished according the law for assault."
Meanwhile the father holds up his spiral-shaped bone holy symbol and a burst of white ghostly energy emanates out from it, washing over those gathered.
The unconscious man awakes with a start, and seeing Father Grimburrow and Janos standing over him says, Please, I'm sorry! Don't hurt me!" The priest reaches down and cuffs him up the back of his head. "Get off yer arse you pitiful excuse for a man. Head to the jail and turn yourself in this instant or my punishment will be worse than anything the Sherrif'll dole out! The man scrambles backwards a few paces, and then stumbling to his feet runs off with a "Yessir!"
The priest looks around for a moment, and turning to Kendra says, "Well, we gonna bury this man or not?" Miss Lorrimor nods and says, "Yes, of course. If you would?" She asks, motioning for the pallbearers to pick back up the coffin. "Follow me." Father Grimburrow says once the heroes are ready.
Janos nods and smiles at the old man. He returns to his position and helps lift the Professor again. He looks back at the others to ensure they're ready to move.
Petros made some odd acquaintances over the years, but it seems everyone of these people were loyal to him. Maybe they were some good people.
Dantrian smiles mirthlessly as the cowed villager runs off, shaking his head as he returns to the coffin.
If those men knew what the professor had been helping me with... knew what lurks inside me... He sighs then and looks back to Kendra, offering a nod of reassurance before he and the rest begin to bear Petros to the Restlands once more.
B'yelka hides her smile as Dantrian begins his lecture on bug-bat-birds, The man is as pedantic as ever!
Father Grimburrow, Councillors, please be kind to those men, as I said, we do not want conflict while we are here in town. Assure them that we are not witches, and we are not here to despoil their village.
As the funeral procession readies itself once more, B'yelka moves to stand behind the coffin. She sings in a low voice a different song, Was it my music that brought those striges down on us? What a place is this that hates the sky, hates the wise and hates song?
Δεν σκέφτηκα ποτέ ότι θα πήγαινα αυτό μακριά
Χωρίς ένα αστέρι για να διασχίσει τις θάλασσες
Τόσο μακριά από τις ακτές είχα φύγει πίσω
Ακόμα μακριά από τις ακτές πρέπει να φθάσω ακόμα
I never thought I'd go this far
Without a star to cross the seas
So far from shores I'd left behind
Still far from shores I've yet to reach
Hmmm... sounds like I am more worried than I should be. I will do better.
Tibideau smirks at the brigand running for the jail. He feels his stomach grumbling, glances at the sky, and sighs. Ughhh. Way past breakfast but not yet time for lunch. I wonder what kind of inferior crumbs they can provide in this town.
He is impressed with Anton's stern speech to the Councilmen, and can't help but notice how dashing Janos looks while picking up the coffin. A half-elf! What would mother say? He sees B'yelka cleaning off her dress. That diva does not have to worry about a thing. She could roll in mud with pigs and still be more glamorous than everyone in this country put together. He leans down to pick up his corner of the coffin again.
As the coffin is again lofted into the air Father Grimburrow leads the procession the rest of the short journey down the Eversleep. He stops in front of a small plot just north of the path where an open grave is already dug and waiting. There is a device with taught-streched ropes laid over the hole to lower the coffin down with. The pallbearers set the box down and step back, allowing Father Grimburrow to take over. The townsfolk take up positions around the edges of the grave, at the respectful distance of a few paces. The barrel-chested man in the vest and his son remove their caps and holds them in front of their waists. "Kendra, I reckon you got summat to say?" the priest asks. Kendra, tearing up a bit, nods and steps forward. After a momentary pause she begins.
"My father was a brilliant man, often absorbed in his work. He was gone more often than not on some great adventure, leaving me in the capable hands of servants. There is one occasion that stands out in my mind though, a story of why I loved my father. It was near my eighth birthday and he had promised to take me to the Lepidstadt fair to see the horses and other animals. Just as we were preparing to depart Ravengro a messenger arrived with an urgent request for the Professor's presence at a dig far in the south. There had been some momentous find. I was dejected, sure that he would leave me behind again and run off to see this new hole in the ground." She pauses for a moment smiling through the tears. "But he didn't. He informed the messenger that he had prior engagements and we went to the fair. He never once complained, or even looked disappointed. At the end of the day, when we were in the carriage back to the inn he told me that I was more important than any old dig would ever be, and that he would always love me." At this point she can't contain herself any longer, and begins sobbing. Leaning down and placing her hand on the coffin, she chokes out "I love you poppa..." before she cannot talk anymore. The father places a arm around her shoulder and leading the crying beauty off to the side, whispers comforts in her ear. Turning back to others, he asks "Would anyone else like to say anything about the Professor?" Kendra turns her gaze hopefully to the party, as do the other townsfolk present.
Drosil steps forward and speaks. "When I met the professor, I had nothing. He took me in, found me a home, and I owed him much more than I could ever hope to repay - not only my livelihood, but also, most likely, my life."
He takes a quick breath and continues, "There was a time, perhaps a few years ago - the last time I spoke with him, actually, now that I think about it - when he and I had business together. When it was done, he offered to buy me an ale. I declined, claiming too little time or some such excuse - I honestly don't remember. Looking back, I would have liked to have gotten to know him better, and regret not accepting that invitation." He closes his eyes and continues, "Regardless, while I didn't know him well, I nevertheless feel that I know his character. It was strong, and it is a testament to that character that we - some of whom have traveled from many far reaches - have gathered here today. Would that I could be as he was."
He opens his eyes and looks around at the others, then looks once more at the coffin and sighs. "Thank you, Professor - for everything." And with that, he steps back to the side.
Dantrian seems hesitant at first, but after Drosil's tale the silver-haired man stands and turns to the crowd. After an uncomfortable breath and slightly too long of a pause, he begins.
"Professor Lorrimor... Petros, was a rare man. When he and I first met, we were naught but strangers. Indeed, I could have been anyone for all he knew. None the less, he freely offered to help me when I had nowhere else to turn. He could have turned me aside easily. Many others would have to be sure, but not him. His was a generous, kindly soul paired with a sharp and brilliant mind - a combination frightfully rare in this world. I am a better man for having known him and the world is a lesser place for his absence."
He sits back down hastily when finished, waiting patiently for anyone else to share.
Seeing Dantrian's reluctance, but then courage to speak inspires Janos to do the same. As Dantrian takes his seat, Janos stands and slowly walks over to the coffin to put his hand on it. After a moment he looks up and begins to speak.
"Professor Lorrimor was one of the finest men I have ever known. I never knew my own father, but if I could choose, I would have wanted him to be just like Petros. When he met me, I was a young orphan boy, outcast and abandoned by his village and in service to a harsh, but ultimately well-meaning mentor. I had no place in the world. The Professor didn’t pity me or coddle me, though, but he gave me the respect no one ever had before. He listened to me and discussed things with me like I was an adult, like I was an equal. Through him, I learned that I did have things to offer the world and that I was capable of more than I thought. Over the years he challenged me several times, but he also consulted with me, offering his opinions and taking my suggestions as well. He was a good friend, and I’ve come here to honor his memory.”
Tibideau considers concocting an elaborate tale recounting the Professor's glory.
Nah.
His thoughts wander to his brothers and his expression turns to anguish. Hopefully they'll think I'm too grief-stricken to speak!
His battered old leather hat clutched against his chest, the tatty old multi-coloured scarf whipping in the wind, Anton takes a step toward the graveside.
”Although there are not as many well-wishers as I would have expected, it is good to see that the lives of those here have been truly influenced by the good professor. It may surprise you that I never actually met him and yet, I owe him a debt I could never have repaid, even in life. When I was a child my parents were taken, or killed I don’t know which, by slavers. Though I didn’t know it until years later, he pulled me from that burning wagon and paid for my care in the subsequent years. How do you repay a man who does you such an honour? I don’t have the answer to that yet but Desna has guided my feet to this graveside and I intend to follow her path to the end. My lady Kendra, if there is anything I can do, you have but to name it.”
B'yelka waits Always ensure that you are remembered and when she sees that each of the visitors has either spoken or hidden behind their tears she speaks, Professor Petros Lorimorr was a man unlike any other. He had the courage to teach at risk of his own life. He had a way of teaching a young lady that even in mistakes we find grace. With his help I was able to discover more about myself than even my own family could show me. I am grateful that we knew each other." As her speech ends, she removes her hat and lets the rain wash her cheeks. Turning to Kendra says, "Please let me know if there is anyway I can give back to you the generous spirit of your father."
When everyone is finished speaking Father Grimburrow steps up, and raises up his holy symbol. He begins a prayer as the two gravediggers work the ropes to slowly lower the coffin into the grave. "Almighty Lady of Graves, hear our prayers for your son Petros Lorrimor whom You have called from this life to the Boneyard. Grant him light, happiness, and peace. Let him pass in safety through the gates of death, and be judged according to his life. Guard him from all harm and on the day of resurrection, reward him with new life. Until then, shepard him to his afterlife. In Pharasma's name, amen." The priest nods to indicate the short ceremony is finished.
Kendra weeps quietly for a few moments before gathering herself. Throwing one last glance into the grave, she turns slowly to the Councilmen and the other three people. She thanks them for coming and exchanges a few words. They all nod, give her a hug or a pat on the back, and make their way somberly back down the path. Turning to the group, she says "Thank you all for your kind words, they were beautiful. I hope you'll come join me back at my house for a drink. Councilman Hearthmount said he needs to go see the Sheriff and attend to another matter before he can come and read the will. It shouldn't take him much more than an hour. Then we can find out why you've all been summoned here."
"Id be glad to." says Anton, replacing his hat.
As they make their way from the cemetary he engages the singer in conversation.
Well Miss Morfaine, have you ever given such an eventful performance? he says with a smile. What language were you singing in? You can probably tell that I dont know much about the arts but it was lovely.
Drosil falls in behind the others as they make their way from the gravesite, waiting for a chance to approach Anton. Whatever this place has in store for us, I'll feel better knowing he's watching my back.
Janos follows the group wordlessly back to the town. He watches the others make polite conversation. It would seem friends of Petros Lorrimor knew how to handle themselves when the unexpected happened. Even his daughter has arcane talents.
He especially watches the nobleman closely. I know witchery when I see it, Master LeClerc. Where did you learn such Hexes? Who was your Nauczyciel? Alicia was always so disappointed I couldn't learn. Perhaps he would have a chance to ask the man later. Though, conversation with a nobleman would be a first for Janos.