Suppressing a yelp, Zazaria jabs at the presumptuous bumpkin once more:
Zazaria's staff cracks into the man's jaw, spinning him about like a top before sending him to the ground.
Asenath gathers up the tattered remains of her will, fighting back the edge of darkness. She turns to the elder at , and draws a hex in the air before her. The haunting lullaby begins to drag her foe into the oblivion of slumber.
The villager tries to blink away the force of Asenath's power, but he's quickly overcome. Without a word, he succumbs and slips to the gravel of the path in a twisted heap.
The last of the villagers, engaged with Gerion, glances over at his fallen companions. With a look of open fear, he turns back to Gerion. His Adam's apple bobs with an exaggerated gulp. He stutters as he drops his whip.
I...I....I...give up
Crag grabs the man and holds him in front of the group.
Wearily, Asenath turns to Kendra to ensure she is safe, before focussing on the remaining elder, "Time for this one to answer some questions!" The amulet pulses once with its soft, malignant light.
The man puts his hands up in a frantic attempt to halt any further aggression. He looks from the stony face of Crag to the steady glare of a witch whom he had just seen put a man to sleep with no effort. His superstitions come through, and he traces the spiral of Pharasma over his breast. Just that, erryone knows that 'ol Lorrimor was a nec...err, that is, he did some magic we all knew was dark. We jus' want our families to be safe!
Kendra turns a glare on him, and the man withers even more, muttering words of apology to the "young miss." The young Lorrimor lady sighs, and looks tired enough to drop to the gravel and slip into a deep repose. She instead puts a hand on Crag's corded arm and offers Asenath a faint smile. They're just scared. Ignorant.... She offered the man another glare. ...but scared.
In the wake of the battle, the older man who had whipped his fellows into a frenzy swiftly fades away from the scene, followed by those who hadn’t participated in the fight. They leave their brethren down and bleeding, some groaning out their pain and others as still as a stone.
From the direction in which the procession had been travelling comes a wizened old man in heavy robes, his bald dome shining in the hazy light of day. He peers at the scene from under thick, bushy brows. Kendra, my dear, are you alright?. His reproachful gaze lands on each of you, as he assesses whether you’re friend or foe.
Asenath returns her friend's smile, but her eyes cool quickly as she returns her gaze to the elder. "What is your name?" She demands, fighting off her exhaustion and pain.
Kendra nods to the old man, then motions to Asenath. I am, but my friend here could use some assistance; is anyone else hurt?
The villager looks down again, but it's the old man who replies. That's just Jed Faelin; he works his farms just like most of us do here in town.. He takes a confident step towards Asenath. I'm Father Grimburrow; can I help you my dear?. The old man's grandfatherly nature is hard to resist.
Staring intently at the old farmer, her face an emotionless mask, Asenath suddenly recoils in fright at the sight of Father Grimburrow as she realises how close he is to her. The amulet pulses with an angry, fiery burst of light.
The water, it burns... my demesne is in flames...
Asenath takes a deep breath, and the emotionless mask replaces her look of fright. "Yes, your assistance is welcome, Father. However, your conventional healing will do more harm than good I fear." She smiles, though the it does not reach her eyes. The amulet fades back to its usual malignant glow.
Zazaria takes a deep breath - How I despise this need for violence. Lady of Graves, forgive me these blows I have struck, no matter how justified - and stumps forward to meet Father Grimburrow, her plain features creasing in a smile of fellowship.
Father Grimburrow? I am Zazaria. Zazaria Rooke. Well met.
Crag just stands there silent assessing the situation.
Father Grimburrow seems to take no issue with Asenath's claim, presumably having known that the late Professor had dealings with some of different lineage that would make conventional healing detrimental. He nods his bald head and turns to smile at Zazaria. Pleased to meet you, Zazaria, though I wish it were under different circumstances. I am Vauran Grimburrow, priest of Pharasma and chief custodian of our Lady’s temple here in Ravengro.
Gerion’s observation is further reinforced by a loud groan from one of the villagers laid low by Zazaria’s thick staff. Grimburrow sighs and begins ministrations.
As he does, the few townsfolk that had come to see the funeral gather around, offering apologies to you and to Kendra. They identify all of the assailants as local farmhands - all of low character. You gather from the conversation the several of the townsfolk are representatives of the town council.
Kendra politely thanks them for their concerns, but her eyes show her emotional fatigue, and her unforgotten sorrow. She gestures at her father’s coffin, and addresses the gathering. Forgive me, but it has already been a long day, and I wish to bring this to a close. May we continue to the gravesite?
Crag goes back to carry the coffin.
Walking stiffly, Asenath also joins Crag at the coffin. She leans down, with a soft groan, and grabs hold of the huckle.
Zazaria follows suit, a little sore, and now even more despondent.
"Relax now Professor, we will take you to your resting place. These Restlands are quite nice and melancholic. You should be happy here." Asenath glances at the coffin, "Oh, I know..."
Kendra offers another sad smile at your swift and wordless support. As the procession gathers once again, this time with the elderly cleric of Pharasma at the head, the beaten and ashamed villagers scurry away like rats caught in bright light.
At the burial site, Father Grimburrow offers the standard rites, blessing the professor’s passage to the Boneyard and his inevitable judgement. His voice grew softer as his words became more personal - a telling of his own experience with and view of the great man.
When finished, the priest steps back, and Kendra steps forward, patting her eyes with a fashionable kerchief. Thank you for the kind words, Father.. She clears her throat. My father was often misunderstood, as you’ve seen first hand. He devoted his life to a love of learning, and to making the lives of others around him better through that learning. We were all deeply affected by him in one way or another. He was a great teacher, a great father, a great man..
She pauses at the close, after her voice cracks just slightly. She looks up at the gathered crowd. If any of you would like to share some words, this would be the time.
Crag gets up and speaks about how the professor helped him find a new path in life that has saved him from possible imprisonment or worse.
Asenath stands beside Kendra, and speaks after Crag. "I met Professor Lorrimor when I was young. My father, Sabin, was his colleague for many years at the University of Lepidstadt. When he was away, researching ancient lore or searching for long lost scrolls or tomes, the professor would take me in and ensure I was well looked after. That is how I met Kendra, and we spent a lot of our youth together." She glances at her friend, and puts her arm around her. "I will always be in your debt for your kindness Petros, even though you find this entire affair quite amusing. You really are a chatterbox." She remains standing beside Kendra, the tears rolling down her cheeks reflect the malignant glow of her amulet, and she looks down so her long hair can hide her face.
Zazaria quirks a wry eye at Asenath, then stands at Professor Lorrimor's graveside for a brief moment: her shoulders tighten, almost imperceptibly, as if suppressing some expostulation, but when she raises her eyes to meet those of the other mourners, they are clear, and there is no sign of tears.
I do not say goodbye, for we carry those we treasure with us always, and they do not leave in the ways that truly count. Professor, travel bold and peaceful upon your new road. You will do well.
And with that, Zazaria bows slightly, first at Petros' grave, and then at Kendra.
Kendra nods her head solemnly in thanks at each of your personal recounting. The townsfolk listen politely and seem respectful, if not overly impressed by your words.
Following the service, Asenath tries to get a "feel for the room".
Why did these villages come to the service? What do they think of Lorrimor?
The gathered townsfolk include learned and successful folk, members of the town council, the sheriff, and local entrepreneurs. They all seem to have had a genuine respect for the Professor, though you’re a bit too distraught over the day’s events to judge them very well.
Kendra quietly thanks you for your kind words. Her eyes never leave her father’s coffin as Father Grimburrow closes the service with potent words to guide the Professor’s spirit on its next journey.
The gathered townsfolk disperse to their own grieving, and Kendra turns her back to the scene of the grevediggers’ grim work. She offers you another small smile. I’m grateful for friends like you through these dark times; your coming means a great deal to me. I’d ask one more favor of you though; my father wished for his last will and testament to be read in your presence. Please join me at my father’s…. She takes a deep breath. That is...my house, for a drink. We can relax for a spell and then have the will and testament read by the council head.
Kendra leads you into her carriage, a modest but functional compartment with two long bench style seats, an enclosed compartment for storage, and a single driver, whom she had hired for the day. The ride is fairly short, as the Restlands were just on the outside of town. The carriage takes the west side of a fork that leads into town from the north, and continues on a packed dirt road that passes many lone houses with broad fields of grain of pastures of grazing cattle.
A turn to the east takes the carriage over a sturdy, if aged, wooden bridge. The wheels crackle on the east side of the bridge as they roll over gravel, then onto smoother cobblestone. Two more turns send the carriage down a narrow path lines on both sides by apple trees.
After an abrupt halt, Kendra leads you out and into a modest manor of no small size. Cluttered bookcases line the walls of every room that you pass through on the way to a large sitting room. Curiosities from the late professor’s extensive travels top every available surface, save for a half dozen cushioned but well used chairs.
Kendra begs your leave, and comes back within a few moments with a deep violet bottle of wine, a pot of tea just beginning to steep, and a platter of cheeses and dried meats. She plays the part of host, then takes a chair. Much more at ease, she eyes each of you in turn.
Councilman Hearthmount should be here soon enough, to read the last will and testament. Until then, please, tell me about yourselves. I know some of you of course.. She shares a warm smile with Asenath. But I only know of others, having only seen you in passing or heard you in my father’s tales.
I am Crag Thunderfist. I was a sad wanderer when I first met your father. He witnessed me defend myself against some local thugs. He saw first hand the rage that had built up inside of me. I let it take control of my actions. He showed me the way to finding peace with my past. I studied his lectures every visit to the monastery over the years. I suppose he found common ground with me being one of the few that did not fit in with the people in that land, but I am grateful no matter the reason.
Kendra nods. He always spoke highly of you, Crag. He said that you were a coiled spring, but needed to be pointed in the proper direction. My father always had sayings like that, as I'm sure you remember. He had a saying for everything, I think. Distant lands were always an interest for my father - he loved exotic people. When he journeyed to a new place, he'd spend time learning the culture of the people there - their mannerisms, songs, lore, language. He didn't care about fitting in,..he just was so hungry for knowledge.
"I am Asenath Drăgoi, the Viscountess of Drăgan, and a former pupil of Professor Lorrimor."
Kendra smiles fondly. You're too modest my friend. You were always more than just a pupil to him, of course. What new adventures have kept you busy these past few months? It's been too long since you visited.
She turns to Crag. Crag, what took you to the monastery in the first place, if you don't mind my prying? It seems such a distant place for you to find your inner peace.
With a look at Zazaria, You're quiet, Zazaria; you're among friends now. This is a time for us to be together and remember why we're here. It's what he would have wanted.
I am always quiet, Kendra Zazaria smiles wryly. But I should share, perhaps, how I came to know your father. He was...not at his best when I met him. A carriage he was in overturned and I was first on the scene. He was hurt, but fortunate that our little village had a very competent healer. She saved his life. Your father and I corresponded a little across the years, but we seldom encountered one another in person. He helped me gain the confidence I needed to complete my training for the priesthood, and taught me to tolerate the politicking that goes on in the Church. I owe him much.
Asenath looks around, her gaze pausing a moment on Zazaria, and the back to Kendra, "Adventures best kept from mixed company, Kendra."
My rage.
I am not at peace.
Peace...an illusion most likely. The world is run by corruption and lies. The seemingly good beaten down at every turn. Justice appears lop-sided; In favor of the rich and powerful.
Kendra nods and smiles as she lays a hand on Zazaria's arm. I don't think that I ever properly thanked you for that. That was a difficult time for my father; he ever eyed the horses drawing our carriages with suspicion after that. She smiles wistfully before continuing. I thank you, Zazaria, both for saving my father, and for being a friend.
Kendra glances between Asenath and Zazaria, then ever being the good host, changes the subject. Few of us are, Crag; I hope that you find it some day.
A disturbed quiet falls over the group with the subject matter turned dark. It's under the cloak of such silence that there's a knock at the door. Kendra starts, then puts a hand to her thumping heart. Excuse me. She leaves the room quickly, and returns a few moments later with a tall and round man with an obvious air of disapproval for the gathered outsiders.
Kendra indicates the man with a gesture as she addresses you. This is councilman Vashian Hearthmount; he will be reading my father's last will and testament.
Councilman Hearthmount eyes you down his nose, then produces a scroll case. He rolls it about with a flourish, to show that the professor's personal seal is unbroken. Then, he breaks the wax and opens the case, at which point a small iron key falls out, clattering noisily onto the wooden floor. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read, obviously eager to be done with the business and to get back home.
parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with
the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and
personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or
sell them as you see fit, my child.
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this
document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading
of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in
attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I
have two final favors to ask.
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are
few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of
what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many
of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and
inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge
of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire
a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one
of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward
legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under
lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have
borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable
for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my
daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the
danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting
my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver
the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who
will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of
another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend
that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is
safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone,
and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she
desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal
gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum
of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these
funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in
Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon
the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month
after the date of the reading of this will.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this
first day of Calistril, in the year 4716.”
The Councilman clears his throat at the end of the reading, and looks about the room. He obviously is a bit surprised at the nature of the Professor's final wishes. Kendra, as well, is silent and contemplative.
Without hesitation Asenath looks to Kendra, smiles, and says, "I will stay."
I will of course follow his instructions.
Councilman Hearthmount eyes the determined strangers, then turns to Kendra, who thanks him for his assistance. After a lost, lingering glance on the newcomers to his town, Councilman Hearthmount turns and takes his leave of the residence.
After he leaves, Kendra turns a brave face to you. I need some time to determine what I’ll do...I’m not sure if I should stay here in Ravengo or sell this house and leave it, and its memories, behind. Until then, I’d be pleased if you’d stay here with me in my home. It’s a big house, and it seems so...empty now.
With that, she begs your leave to fetch the trunk mentioned in the Professor’s will. The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and
iron. Kendra, nervous about the contents, offers the key to you to give you the honor of opening the chest.
The key fits the lock perfectly, and within are several old tomes and one relatively new one. The newest tome sits on the top and bears the phrase “Read me now!” scratched into the leather cover. It has no other title marked on it.
There are four other tomes, with their names marked on the covers in varying artful fashions. They are marked “Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye”, “On Verified Madness”, “Serving Your Hunger”, and “The Umbral Leaves.”
Asenath eyes the tomes with obvious interest. She reaches into the chest and pulls out the one bearing the "title", Read me now! As she does so, she glances at the titles on the other tomes.
cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The book’s covers are rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appears to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft. The key is nowhere to be found
On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is largely nondescript
Serving your hunger: This book is covered by the image of a skull on a fly, in a copper tint. It's the symbol of the goddess Urgathoa.
The Umbral Leaves: This book is by far the most heinous, it's words written in blood on pages of flayed skin bound by bone.
The first book has a note indicating it should be
delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse; the others have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
I will, of course, fulfill your father's wishes, Kendra.
As no doubt he knew. What strange paths are you setting for me now, Professor? Zazaria also eyes the tomes with a certain professional interest...
Zazaria purses her lips in considerable distaste: I hope we can get rid of those monstrosities as soon as may be. Urgathoa! what were you doing trafficking in such dark lore, Petros Lorrimor? Some doors are better left shut. The villagers' fear is more explicable now. But I'll trust you. For now.
Asenath begins reading through the tomes voraciously. Looks like you kept some secrets from me Professor!
Reading? Not really my thing