Dot and Delete!
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“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—”
Small towns and villages dot Ustalav, their windows peering out of the mists and doors shut as tight as clenched teeth. Ravengro is no different. The wagon bumps over stones and through the rutted dirt road toward the center of the town as a few peasants hurry out of the way, their backs bent from working the land around the village.
”But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.”
It’s not any missive that could bring foreigners and strangers to a town like Ravengro, but the letter each of you received was no ordinary letter. Inside, written in a shaky hand none of you recognized, was sad news; the death of one Professor Petros Lorrimir. Whether indebted to him or vice versa, his knowledge and assurance helped shape your lives, and the news of his death and invitation to his funeral shook you hard.
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,”
It’s been nearly a week since Ardis, traveling at the pace of an eccentric old man and his two nags. Everything reeks of garlic, and with each bump in the road dozens of tiny mirrors and chiming bells reflect the weak sun onto the road in front or the woods and fields to the sides. Since he took your gold, the wagon driver hasn’t so much as said a word, except to recite poetry.
”And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!”
The last words die on his lips as the wagon pulls up in front of a modest two-story home, windows shuttered like so many others in the town and shingled roof showing signs of wear. ”Here’s the place. Ride’s done.” He gestures impatiently and begins rolling another garlic-and-tobacco cigarette.
Professor Lorrimir’s daughter, Kendra Lorrimir, stands in the doorway in a formal red dress and with hair up in a tight bun. She takes a deep breath and offers a half-hearted wave. ”Thank you for coming, friends. My f-father would have appreciated traveler from so f-far away coming for this. You c-can bring your things inside; I’ve arranged a handful of rooms f-for you upstairs, so you should be c-comfortable.” She turns, sobs once, and then disappears inside the house, leaving the door open.
"Davi, its time to go," as she gently squeezed her travelling companion's hand. She had met Davi near the Sendris river, just in time to stop her from walking into a peat bog. She found that they were going the same direction, thus decided to travel together for safety. She nodded once at the driver, then began to gather up her gear in the wagon.
"On your best behaviour, Mr Chompy." She couldn't care less about the driver's quirks, just glad that they had managed to find a wagon at Ardis to bring them to Ravengro swiftly. Perhaps this was the driver's way of coping with the horrors that popped out in Ustalav...
She stepped onto the drab, grey streets of Ravengro,thankful that there were a few people on the streets. Her presence always drew unwanted attention from the local populace, sometimes they would even perform the gestures to ward off the evil eye when she passed.
She touched the letter in her belt pouch, then bit her lip as a pang of sorrow struck her. It was a stark reminder of why she was here now. Professor Lorrimir had been more then a friend. He had been the father she had never known. She had been wandering around Ustalav for...many years now, carrying out Desna's will of cleansing the land.
After she had helped him exorcise a malignant spirit, they had become friends, and then more then that. He always had a kind word of encouragement for her and his libaries were always open to her. He had asked her once to join him in his research and turning him down the hardest thing she had ever done. To trade the dangers of the road, fighting supernatural beings so that mostly unappreciative peasants could sleep safe in their beds, for the safety and comfort of academic research, to be with people who appreciated her for her talents instead of being shunned...it was hard. But it had to be done.
She looked at the two story home. It could have been her living there as well, instead of wandering Ustalav as a rootless vagabond. She wondered, had she been here, with the Professor, could she have saved him from his fate? If she had gotten here earlier, would he be the one waving at the door, bidding her welcome like he always did? She heaved a sigh of regret. "If only"- those must be the saddest words in any language.
Kendra's words shake her out of her thoughts. She looks back to see if Davi needs any help unloading her gear from the wagon.
The first part of the trip by ship went well enough. Plenty of interesting people to talk to. The constant shipboard activity gave a certain liveliness to the voyage. He had even made the acquaintance of another military man, Gosk from Nex, along the way. Was quite surprising when they discovered that they had the same destination.
The trip to Ardis had started and ended on a river, with a rather long jaunt across a mountain pass breaking it up. Tiring, but still the mood was good.
There is only one word to describe the last part of the trip. Glum. The driver wasn't one for conversation, but seemed to be a never-ending font of dark and depressing poetry. The weather always seemed overcast. Slowly the trip settled into a dreary routine, but fortunately the trip was at an end.
He thanked the driver and quickly grabbed his bags.
Turning to Kendra, the colonel manages a smile. "Greetings! Thank you for inviting me to share in this solemn occasion. The world of scholars is poorer for the loss of the Professor! He taught me much."
Mr Chompy smells a new scent and starts growling at Colonel Tipper.
The colonel looks at the dinosaur growling at him, then over at Vara. Really? I would have expected the wagon ride to be long enough for it to have adjusted to me. Stupid lizard!. He obviously expects her to take care of any problems with the dinosaur.
He acts as if the dinosaur is someone else's problem.
Gosk spends most of the journey staring out of the carriage's window. The child-like smile on the man's face is in stark contrast with his dark heavy armour, thick leather and chain reaching all the way to his ankles. A fierce looking scythe leans on the door of the carriage, the blade sharpened to perfection.
"You know, Colonel,", he begins saying to his companion, "I think I'm starting to see some connections between Ustalav and the good old country. Dark all around, fear of the undead, and encouragement not to stray too far away from the roads. Magical fallout or vicious beasts being the only difference.", he sighs.
The letter was surprisingly non-descriptive. Wonder what the professor stumbled upon. And this poem is... appropriate. Five gold pieces say the locals are heavy drinkers...
"Though the trees are pretty in a...", he searches for a word, "imposing way, I guess. Preferred the ones in Varisia along the way, though."
--------------------------------------
Leaving the wagon, he flips a coin to the driver. "Thanks a lot, friend. That's for the, uh, entertainment.", he says, reaching for a small chest and pulling it down. "Colonel, if you'd like, I'll give you a hand with that.", he nods at the case. "Though if it's the alchemical lab you mentioned, I'd stay away. I'm sure we're all enjoying our eyebrows.", he chuckles.
"Miss Lorrimer, it's good to see you again, if only the circumstances were... different. My condolences, first and foremost.", and nods to himself as she runs inside. Poor girl.
Seeing the other arrivals, he bows his head. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Gosk Tereus, at your service."
Imposing? Threatening is more like it!
Looking out the window, he replies "Yes, I also prefer the Varisian scenery. These trees somehow give the sense of looming over you and blocking what little sunlight there is. It is almost like they make the shadows deeper."
-----
Shaking his head, he responds to Gosk "No alchemy lab. Just a few supplies for my tonics." As he lifts his pack, he adds "Thank you for the offer, but it is no bother."
Davi jumps when Vara squeezes her hand. ”Mmph, what?! I wasn’t sleeping.” she claims, completely denying that she’s been softly snoring for the past hour. It’s been a long time since she got a proper night of rest; something’s always waking her up, be it dreams or her general anxiety. The driver’s more than a little odd but as far as Davi’s concerned he’s a wonderful person; riding in the wagon means she gets naptime.
The changeling slings her bags over her shoulder and climbs out of the wagon as Kendra runs back into the house. She can’t imagine what the poor girl must be going through; the thought of losing her own father makes her sick to her stomach. ”Poor thing” she murmurs.
At first the wagon driver’s poem about ‘traveling the dark and lonely road’ seems like a moment of human compassion but as he gets louder Davi realizes he wants her to grab her last possession
Tied behind the wagon is a pudgy donkey with long ears. The creature looks as sleepy as its mistress, watching Davi out of half lidded eyes. The changeling scratches her under the chin. ”Alright Flower, let’s get you situated.” Situated where though? Maybe Kendra wouldn’t mind Flower being tied up in the backyard?
"Oh yes, you weren't sleeping. You were just snoring." A ghost of what might been a smile twitches at Vara's lips.
"Desna, light our road and show us the way." she intones, holding her holy symbol at her belt, as she seems to be drawing strength from it.
Se turns to observe Flower, scratching her gently on the head. "She's sweet, isn't she? I'd best ask Kendra if she has stables that can be locked at night. Wouldn't want her to get eaten by some ravening ghoul."
"Mr Chompy! Which part of best behaviour did you NOT understand?"
Seeing Davi doesn't need any help with her belongings, Vara gathers hers and follows Kendra into the house, wiping her boots on the doormat before she enters.
When she catches up with Kendra, she continues, "I'm sorry about your loss. You've lost your father and the world has lost a great man. May Desna give you strength in these dark times."
She then tries to find some house servants to enquire where one might keep a donkey.
Mr Chompy glowers at Colonel Tipper, giving him a this-is-all-your-fault look, before turning abruptly to follow his mistress into the house, his head and tail held high. He wipes his feet and forepaws on the doormat, before entering.
Seeing the dinosaur wipe it's claws, the colonel remarks to Gosk "Impressive! It would seem someone has house-trained a dinosaur."
He follows the others into the house, also wiping his feet at the door mat.
Outside the Lorrimir’s home and a touch down the street is a hitching post, covered in notices and posters but otherwise serviceable. While it likely won’t work for a long-term stay, it’s certainly more than suitable for Flower the donkey. After hitching him (her?) there, Davi is able to join the others inside.
The inside of the Lorrimirs’ home is as eccentric as Petros was in life, and Kendra has obviously not changed much in the weeks since his death. A dozen lamps, ranging from the tall, stately Taldan candelabra to a beautiful golden statuette of a hooved woman with light in her upraised hands, light the room, and sitting in the center of the room is a beautiful astrolabe depicting a once-popular model of Golarion’s celestial neighbors. A dozen cobinets with glass doors house curiosities from across Ustalav and most of Avistan.
For her part, Kendra waits just inside the door, dabbing at her eyes with a sodden handkerchief and struggling to keep her composure. She grasps each person’s hand as they enter. ”Thank you, Gosk. It’s hard, b-but I k-keep waking up every morning. Thank you, everyone. P-please, have a seat. The f-funeral starts s-soon, but we may as w-well be comfortable.” She gestures to a half-dozen armchairs, each upholstered with different cloths, and waits until everyone is seated before collapsing into one herself, the stress of everything pushing her down into it. She breathes shallowly, sobs a few body-wracking sobs, and then bursts into tears. ”N-no one else c-c-came. I heard b-back from a f-few old friends, but no one else c-could come.” She stands, suddenly agitated. ”I’m a t-terrible hostess. I sh-should have had something to eat, b-but I’ve just b-been, um, in a daze. Here. I have some water I can serve.”
She bustles out, coming back with a pitcher and a serving-tray with glasses, which she shakily fills. ”I n-need a favor. Th-the funeral s-starts in just a f-few minutes, and there are no pallbearers for my father. I w-would be honored, and s-so would he, if you would do the task. If so, I c-can take you to the temple, where the Pharasmics h-have t-treated his b-body.” She looks at everyone, eyes filled with tears, despair, and perhaps a touch of hope.
Vara feels a slow rage rise from her gut. For all the good work that he did, he deserved better then this. That his daughter was left alone without help when she needed it most. Fair weather friends, all the Professor's colleagues. When the going was good, they were all too willing to be listening to his lectures, consulting him on research. Yet when his family needed them, they were nowhere to be seen.
Vara rises from the armchair, her violet eyes flashing angrily. "Those who couldn't make it here don't deserve to be called his friends. Some friends indeed, dissappearing in his time of need," she snarled, balling her fists in emphasis. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Anger would not serve, it would just upset Kendra further.
"Don't worry about being a proper host, you've got more things on your mind then anyone should be burdened with." She takes out a trail ration from her pack and passes it to Kendra. "I know you're used to better then this, but I promise I'll be able to do better tomorrow. You need to eat something. He wouldn't want to see you like this," her voice gentle.
On hearing that Kendra needed pallbearers, the same rage that took her earlier begins to simmer. There should have been a whole load of people volunteering to be his pallbearers. Life was so freakin unfair. Professsor Lorrimir belonged to the good people. But railing at the uncaring world wouldn't change anything. "Of course I'd help. It would be the least I could do for him. He was my friend too," in an understanding voice.
It was fitting, that Desna granted her a chance to send off the man who meant so much to her. The man who had given her a sanctuary to shelter her from the horrors she had seen. A man who had shared his lore with her, given her a glimpse of a brighter world beyond dreary Ustalav. Yet their time together was all too brief, and his life was cut short, like a candle in the wind.
The colonel takes a seat. When the hostess bursts into tears, he takes the kerchief from his pocket and quietly offers it to her.
When she asks for the favor, the colonel immediately responds "Certainly, miss Kendra! It will be an honor to act as pallbearer. If you need any other help, you have but to ask!"
I would tidy up, but with the state she is in I think it would only make her feel worse. Best to just charge in and make the best of the situation as presented!
As if he feels his mistress's distress, Mr Chompy lies down on the floor besides his mistress's feet and lets out a low, mournful howl.
”I would be honored” Davi murmurs. ’He deserved so much more than this. He knew what I was and he didn’t think I was a freak or a monster, he just saw someone who needed help. As comforting as his letters are...were...I wish we could have met in person.’ The changeling instinctively clenches her hands. She paints her nails different colors, using it as a camouflage against people noticing that her nails are pointier than they should be.
Meeting Vara has been a blessing. In a land full of suspicion and hatred of the unusual it’s wonderful to have someone what you were born as or who your mother is. Professor Loromir was like that too.
Davi squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. Once she’s gotten herself under control she clears her throat. ”Miss Kendra? If there’s anything, anything at all I can do for you let me know. I, well we really, all of us here, our lives are better for having known your Father. I would be ashamed of myself if I didn’t help you with whatever you need.”
Gosk remains seated, staring at a framed picture on the wall. Nodding quietly as the others tend to the hostess, he takes a brief look around the somewhat familiar room. I'll miss the old man. Surprising how so few people showed up in here. Wonder if there is indeed something else.
"I would be honoured to be a pallbearer as well, Kendra. It's the least I can do for all that he's taught me." He'd have chuckled at the irony. He stands up in the room, taking off his gauntlets and reaches for the water, passing a glass to Kendra. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we're here for you."
If there's noone else showing up, I should think of some words for the old man as we lay him in the ground.
With a shaky smile, Kendra takes a sip of her water and then collapses in her armchair. A few tears continue to flow down her face, but her whole body seems to have relaxed as she launches into a story of her father's time at Lepidstadt University, interspersed with tiny bites from Vara's rations. After a few minutes, a cuckoo clock begins to chime, ending after ten cheeps. "Oh! W-we need to be going. It's t-time for us to pick up...t-to pick up..." She bursts into tears, going to the door and waiting until everyone's out before leading them around the town of Ravengro to the temple of Pharasma.
The inside of the building is totally quiet, but Kendra walks right in, looking decidedly green and determinedly trying not to look at the casket. "Father Grimburrow won't be here. He and the f-few guests f-from Ravengro are already at the g-grave. P-please, ch-choose a place and l-let's get this over w-with."
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Vara takes her place at the back left of the casket.
When the funeral procession begins to move, she raises her voice in song in tribute to the only father she had ever known.
"When I am down and, oh, my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up to more than I can be."
Tears stream down her face as she sings, and her performance is somewhat marred by her sobs.
The colonel goes to the front left side of the casket. He patiently waits while others take their places.
As the procession moves, he is momentarily surprised to hear Vara singing behind him. I've been trained to carry a pack, not a tune. I hope the others don't think less of me for failing to sing along.
He sheds no tears for the dead professor. Still, there is a sadness in his expression. Another friend I am to bury. It is different this time though, for this is no soldier killed in battle. Is that why the burden feels a little greater? I will miss our talks Professor, especially those that happened at the pub after a lecture.
Davi goes to the front right of the casket. She's carried heavier objects before but this, this weighs the most. 'Another friend lost. Pharasma treat him kindly; he was a good man'
Gosk walks in the room, and takes his place in the back right of the casket. I guess it's time you finally got some rest, Professor. You were always saying that now would be the time.
Hearing the song, he lets out a sad smile. Well, on you go into the biggest mystery of all. May your soul rest, wherever it may be.
The casket’s weight bears down on the party as the begin the long walk into the Restlands, Ravengro’s cemetery. A few crows sit perched above the graveyard’s wrought-iron sign, calling their crow calls at the party as it goes slowly under them. From there, it’s up the pathway called the Dreamwake. However, as the funeral procession nears the Eversleep, the path where Petros Lorrimir’s grave is to be, they spot a dozen or so citizens of Ravengro. Kendra smiles and waves, obviously under the impression that they’re here to mourn like you are, but the scowls and farming tools in their hands belay that impression.
”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!””
Gosk lets out a sigh. "I can understand disliking the Professor in life, but what harm does a mere mortal coil pose to you, friends?", he asks with a quizzical look in his eyes, taking a glance at Kendra. "The Pharasmin already prepared our friend to depart on his final journey, so unless you purport to be a higher authority than them...", he continues, pointing towards the clerics. "And, at last, why do you not want the Professor buried there? Did he harm you in any way?"
"Whatever your quarrel with him in life may have been, isn't it better to allow his body to rest safely within hallowed grounds now?" the colonel asks.
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"Never in my life have I heard such coldheartedness!" Davi cries. "To go up to a grieving daughter and demand she bury her father somewhere else? Can you imagine what that would feel like if someone did that to you? To your family? You all ought to be ashamed! Professor Lorrimor has gone to Pharasma, any enmity you held for the man doesn't matter for he is not here! Let this girl bury her father in peace!"
Vara feels drained. Just when she thought that people couldn't get any worse...they prove her wrong. This was one of those times when she was glad with her life as a wanderer. The less she had to do with the small-mindedness and pettiness of the general population, the happier she'd be.
"Would you deny a filial daughter a chance to fulfil her last duty to her father? It could be any of you lying in the coffin the next time Pharasma calls."
Feeling sadness resonate from Vara from their shared bond, he lets out a long plaintive howl.
“What are you talking about?” Kendra cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already been...”
“You people don't get it. We won’t 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.” The leader of the band of townsfolk raises a hand and waves it around behind him, seeming to signal to his people that it's time to spread out and block the way.
Kendra stands shocked, whether at the sudden turn of events or the man's insinuation about her father. Then, her fists ball up and her body goes rigid. “Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?”
In answer, half the locals step forward, axe handles and pitchforks raised menacingly, as their companions cheer them on loudly.
Gosk grumbles. If only I could have explained better., he says, nodding at the white haired woman to his left and lowering the remains of the man. The sad truth is that they are somewhat right, however..., as Gosk raises his hands and stands in front of Kendra.
Let's ignore the fact that I probably even look like a necromancer to these f+#~wits, uh, foolish people., he thinks to himself, a glance on his black Nexian armour and the scythe on his back. "We'd gladly avoid any conflict, good people! Surely no more death is necessary!"
And the good Professor wasn't even in the grave before the narrow-minded people of Ravengro turned against them. Not that it was much better when he was alive, but at least she wasn't threatened with open violence.
"I'm sorry Professor, but we have to defend ourselves," while touching the casket.
She lowers the casket respectfully.
Mr Chompy eyes the thugs. Which part of them would be better to bite?
As the party begins to lower the casket, some of the thugs rush over and begin swinging their pitchforks and axe-handles. The first goes for Gosk, only to miss as his improvised club sails by in a glorious arc. The second sneaks by the big man, crashing the haft of his pitchfork into Kendra's head, but a last-second twitch blunts the force of the blow, sending her head whipping back and eliciting a cry of pain instead of knocking the woman out cold. The third goes for Davi, but fails to make contact.
Mr Chompy dashes up to the one who hit Kendra and worries his ankles.
If hit:
Davi lowers the coffin as well. Mr. Chompy's teeth cut easily through the plain woolen trousers of one of the men, drawing a small amount of blood but eliciting a cry far beyond the surface damage. A moment later, however, the man straightens up again, grimacing but not slowed down.
For their part, the other men enter the fray, improvised clubs swinging, but fail to connect a solid blow. Kendra chooses to flee, putting her would-be protectors between her and the thugs.
The tall man takes a step back from his assailants, his armoured gauntlet closing around the vicious instrument on his back.
The darkened scythe flies in his hands, a vastly more terrifying weapon than the ones in the hands of the commoners in front of him. "Don't start something you cannot finish, friend.", he speaks to Kendra's assailant, a fierce blaze in his eyes.
The blade of the scythe approaches the man's neck viciously, before turning in a swift motion in order to attach itself in his coat. Gosk pulls heavily on the hilt, drawing the man's face with high velocity towards his left gauntlet.
If the guy that Gosk hits goes down, Mr Chompy will draw an AOO (or not - depending if those guys have finished using AOOs from Gosh) and go to harry the one threatening Davi (drawing another AOO - moving into his square). Otherwise it will be on the same guy that he was biting last round.
DC 12 Fort save or 1d2 str dmg. 1 point of non lethal damage.
Vara draws her quarterstaff and takes a defensive stance next to Kendra. She observes that Mr Chompy seems to be...enjoying himself.
Colonel Tipper respectfully lowers his end of the casket.
Straightening his back, he then steps beside Vara so as to protect Kendra.
Gesturing to the one who spoke, he asks "What is the name of that one? I want to know who it is that slanders the professor's character!"
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"The professor was a man of great wisdom and learning, and a far better man then all of you put together, you narrow-minded, insular, bigots!"
The colonel gives a short chuckle, evidently amused by something. I'll have to remember this lady has quite the temper!
Gosk's blow crashes into his foe, flipping him onto his back, where he breathes heavily but steadily, mercifully knocked unconscious by the damage. Another foe gets chomped on by the dinosaur, but manages once again to shake off the pain. The surviving thugs take swings, but find themselves unable to make a connecting blow against their targets.
Davi attempts to vlub one of the thugs with the hilt of her rapier, but a wayward arm deflects the blow. At the same time, the thugs attack in a flurry of incompetence, flailing wildly and not making contact with anyone.
Kendra, for her part, spends some time to cast a spell on herself.
With an annoyed huff, the colonel draws his sap and swings it at the uncouth villager that he and Vara threaten.
"Fools! If there were any evidence, it would have been brought to the constabulary!" That is what they call it here, right?
"Peh, these ignorant louts wouldn't recognise a necromancer even if one stood in front of them," Vara sniffs disdainfully, as she waits for an opportune time to strike.
Gosk grunts heavily as he leads the end of the handle towards the torso of another villager.
The hilt misses the figure barely as Gosk retracts the scythe. I do suppose that necromancy has a... polarizing effect on people., he thinks. I wonder if he actually practiced necromancy as well as he studied it...
Tipper's blow crashes into his foe's head, staggering the man. He hobbles away, heading toward his noncombatant friends, who boo and hiss at him. One of the thugs chooses the correct moment to respond, crashing the side of his hoe into Tipper's head, while another cleanly misses Davi.
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Davi look around the melee. They’re supposed to be honoring the memory of one of the greatest men she’s ever met; how did it come to this? Anger swells in her gut, rising within her until she bellows out ”. If looks could kill these townsfolk would be joining the Professor in the afterlife. She didn’t have a real plan when she let out that shriek, but she picks up an idea and runs with it.
”The Professor’s body was prepared by the priest at the TEMPLE OF PHARASMA. How about we all troop up there and tell them how YOU LOT think THEY could have blessed a body but it’s SOMEHOW still all dangerous necromancy whooo whooo scaryyy” She gasps in exaggerated fake terror.
”Or, hey, how about we go straight to the priest and accuse Pharasma’s blessing of not being enough to cleanse and sanctify a body. Why, I bet Pharasma just loovessss it when people go ‘Hey, your clergy is good and all, but it’s really not strong enough to get the job done. Wow, you must suck!’ Yup, there no way you can go wrong saying that. And of course we have to put in council to vote on who can be buried in what area, because damned if I’m going to let Bob be buried next to my decomposing ass, even though we’re both dead and gone into the next life. You people are out of your MINDS.”