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Carrion Crown: Chapter One: The Haunting of Harrowstone: Part One: The Last Will and Testament of Petros Lorrimor
You (the party members) know Petros Lorrimor. Or, rather, you knew him. You've just received a letter from his daughter, Kendra, that he recently and unexpectedly passed away. You've been invited to their home town, Ravengro, to pay your respects. You are also named in his will.
Beyond his renown at the University of Lepidstadt, beyond the fact that he was a scholar researching the forces of evil and methods to better combat them, he was your friend. (Players are free to develop the exact nature of this friendship on their own.) He was a true friend--the kind of "true" that is precious and rare--a dependable ally.
For most of your travel the weather was mild. Until you came to the borders of Ustalav. There, the weather grew dark and unsettled. The chronic fog and rain make the roads sloppy and slow with mud. They mute some noises with their dampness, while other noises seem to randomly echo beyond the bounds of what should be normal.
And the noises. There's always some creature or other to be heard nearby--baying or growling or panting or tearing into the flesh of some freshly caught prey...
As you approach Ravengro's cemetery, The Restlands, you notice the weather relent slightly. You have had no chance to change, and you still wear the clothing (or armor) in which you have traveled. There are several others who appear road-worn. It is clear that these are also Professor Lorrimor's friends summoned here from other parts.
There are a few others who look like locals. Among this second group are a young woman dressed in black who seems wracked with grief and loss. Clearly, this is Kendra Lorrimor. Along with her are three men, a woman, and a boy in his teens. They've been waiting for your arrival to lay Petros Lorrimor to rest.
There's a coffin--simple but dignified, just as you imagine Petros would have wanted.
Kendra Lorrimor welcomes you:
"Friends. Thank you for coming. Let's get started. Are there any among you who wish to serve as my father's pallbearers?"
Sharien knew Petros Lorrimor as the one who first got her interested in the arcane arts. She grew up on the border of Ustalav, and visited Ravengro several times with her parents. She heard Petros giving an impromptu lecture once, years ago, and ran up to him afterward, her eyes shining with excitement. His knowledge of all things magical made her want to become a wizard herself, and she applied to the University of Lepidstade, but her elvish mother convinced her to travel instead to Nantambu to study with the other nature-mages there.
Sharien hasn't seen Petros in several years, having spent the past six at the academy training and the five before that as a wizard's apprentice in the elvish city of Iadara, and now just as she's graduated, she hears that her once-mentor is dead. She hops on the fastest caravan she can find, and heads for Ravengro.
After arriving, she is overcome with grief at seeing Petros' coffin, but is able to force a smile for Kendra, whom she knew as a young girl of only ten the last time the two met. "Hello, my old friend. It has been some time, and you've grown into a beautiful young woman. I almost did not recognize you. I will gladly bear the burden of your father's remains in his honor."
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Tears well in Kendra's eyes as she recalls Sharien. She tries to say, "Sharien?!? You've barely changed at all!" But, the grief catches in her throat and all she can manage is a slight squeaking sound as she throws her arms around her old friend.
"Thank you," she finally manages to whisper as she lets go and allows the wizard to take her place carrying the coffin.
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I put my stats in the Classes/Levels field on my bio, to keep it up permanently. You can change things like HP as needed.
1) Click on your avatar/image
2) Click on the "Edit My Profile" button
3) Add text in the Classes/Levels field--actually, it also works if you add details to the Race, Gender, and Size fields.
Poshment walked the familiar streets of his hometown with a slight sense of unease "no one seems to recognize me" he says taking note of all the strange glances he's receiving. Some overly protective parents even clutch their children to them. "What a truly strange reaction..."
He makes his way to where he was meeting his adoptive sister and when he reaches the rest lands he waits for her to have a spare moment before tugging on her dress in an almost forgotten way. "Kendra...I've come to pay my respects...if you need me to I will help father make his way to his final resting place...though I will need stilts to keep up with the rest of these folk" he says eyeing the rest of those gathered around.
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Kendra's eyes widen with surprise, delight, and also sadness that it took such a tragic moment to bring her "brother" home. "Poshment?"
She reaches out to the paladin but doesn't touch him--as though she was afraid that he might be a figment of her grief-addled imagination and that touching him might dispel his comforting presence.
"Yes. Please." She says haltingly, trying to choke back tears. "I shall very much appreciate your participation, brother." She manages a weak, and entirely sincere, smile. She has missed you.
He looks a bit taken a back from her surprise but brushes it off as part of the stress she is no doubt under. See her reach out he steps forward and hugs him "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. I had just had class with him last semester and he looked great." He says turning his head to the side so she can hear him. After a moment with his sister he let her get back to the crowd and he approached the casket.
"This doesn't make sense...he was fine a few months ago and now this...something feels off. And the townspeople are acting so strangely to...something definitely doesn't smell right to me. I'll have to put my new investigative skills to work."
As he approached the casket he had to choke back tears as he took his rightful place next to the casket. As he waits for services to start he has to clear his eyes of tears a few times.
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A small, dark-haired woman approaches the casket, head bowed. Although Pharasmans revered the cycle of life and death, Faria felt a sharp tugging of her emotions all the same. She had enjoyed quite a few conversations with Professor Lorrimor about the dogma of Pharasma and the other deities, and had kept in touch, sending a letter every month or so. Now there would be no more debate, no more friendly sparring.
She stands there for many moments, her gaze upon his sunken face as she silently says her good-byes, wishing him well in his next life. She then turns to face the mourners, entering their midsts.
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Once the pallbearers have been chosen, Kendra, as the deceased's closest living relative, has the job of leading the somber procession along the Dreamwake—a gravel pathway that winds through the cemetery. (Those serving as pallbearers are considered to have both hands full as they carry the heavy coffin up the road.)
As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, you see that the way ahead is blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals.
One of them speaks: "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!"
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into anger: "What are you talking about? I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave's already been..."
The local interrupts her: "You don’t get it, woman. 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."
"Even if the Professor HAD dabbled in necromancy, it's no more dangerous than any other type of magic when in the right hands, and his hands were more than capable. Trust me, this man's remains pose no threat to your kins'."
Sharien tries to reason with the crowd, but they seem completely unswayed by her suggestion that necromancy is not necessarily evil.
"My good man as a Paladin of Pharasma and an adoptive member of the late professors family don't you think I would know if he was an evil man" He then scans the crowd and focuses in on the spokesmen for the group.
"Like you good sir...I can smell your trouble all over you...I am willing to look past what ever evils you have comitted if you allow us to tend to our business.
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They are not evil.
You do recognize most of the thugs.
You know that these "thugs" are much more proficient using their farming tools than fighting. They're simple folk who are afraid of Petros' "involvement" with "evil things".
The creepy setting (constant rain and fog, constant sounds of animals and other creatures) only exacerbates their fear.
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Given the potential for confrontation, the other mourners (NPCs) are not willing to enter the fight. Some are too old. Some are too cowardly. Others are too protective of their friends and family to risk battle.
"We do not wish to fight you, especially on this day of grieving, but our friend WILL be buried there, where he belongs."
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[ dice ] 1d20 + 0 [ /dice ]
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Okie dokie:
The townspeople/other mourners yell in horror, disbelief, disgust as the party begins combat. During a funeral.
Sorted Inits:
Zorra: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Thug1: 1d20 ⇒ 20
Thug5: 1d20 ⇒ 19
Sharien: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Thug6: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Thug4: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Thug2: 1d20 ⇒ 11
Poshment: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Faria: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Thug3: 1d20 ⇒ 6
The thugs pull out various farming implements to use as weapons.
Zorra, you're up!
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I hear what you're saying, but the local thugs don't take kindly to intimidation. The module describes them as easily incited. It was the wording of Zorra's statement: "If anyone wants a fight, they shall have it." I recognize that there may have been som "dwarven" RP in there. But the character has a CHA or 10, not 5.
It depends on how this plays out.
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I'm fine with you not-being a pallbearer. :-)
The first thug walks up to the dwarf and slaps her with a broom () for no damage.
With that strike, it's obvious that their intent is to do non-lethal damage. They're afraid. Perhaps it has something to do with the extra creepy environment.
Come to think of it, seeing the unusually aggressive nature of these locals... Something occurs to Poshment and Sharien. You remember Ravengro's climate as gloomy, but not gloomy.
Thug #5 walks up () and slaps the dwarf with a set of dull shears. He's holing the blade and smacks her with the part through which you put your fingers. For no damage.
You both (Poshment and Sharien) remember the shears-weilding thug. He's surly, but he's actually something of a pacifist. Why is he attacking? Him? Of all people, him?
Sharien is up!
Sharien begins to lower the coffin and tries to plea to the thugs "Why are you doing this?? This is a funeral for a well-respected man! How could you desecrate his memory by trying to fight his pall-bearers as they're carrying his coffin?!??!"
Poshmont slowly lowers the professor to the ground with the others and then steps forward, hands in the air. His eyes lock with the man holding the sheers and he speaks"I will not fight you. But you will not stand in our way either. Your kin are resting here, despite their sins and so shal mine. We do not need to come to blows, we do not need to act like animals on a day that is so hard for so many of us." As he speaks he moves over the Kendra and takes her hand giving it a hard squeeze before continuing. "Please this fine young lady has been through enough and while some of these people might be outsiders to you I know you see her as one of your own. She has done no wrong here please allow her to put a man she loved to rest."
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The thugs calm down enough that they sullenly disperse, shooting venomous glances at the party and at Kendra, but leaving the cemetery nevertheless and allowing the procession to continue.
Kendra thanks the party profusely and apologizes for the assault. The attending councilors profess shock at the attack and indicate that they recognized the thugs as "local farmhands, all of low character."
Some of the other gathered townsfolk/mourners nod their heads in approval of you "strangers."
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The assault now past, the procession continues up to the plot Kendra purchased for her father. No further complications prevent the lowering of his coffin into the open grave by the gravediggers.
An elderly priest, Father Grimburrow, gives a short sermon, then invites Kendra to say a few words about her father. Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or selfless moments, thanking everyone once again for coming.
She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or remembrances.
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Peshmont steps up and clears his throat. His legs start to shake a little and he approaches his sister. He gives her a brief hug and whispers "That was beautifully said" before releasing her and turning to the croud. He tries to steel his nerves and hold back tears as he speaks.
"As a follower of Pharasma I am no stranger to death. But this..." he pauses as his voice cracks and those who are looking on can tell he's reaching deep inside himself to calm his nerves ...this makes little sense to me. The late professor was a great man. A man of sound mind and excellent health when last we spoke and as some of you might imagine that was on a regular basis being that I have had the honor of being adopted into his family. He was the first human I found acceptance from. He showed me a love I have not found elsewhere and for that I will be eternally in his debt. He gave me a sister who's strength is a true inspiration...especially now.". He takes a deep breath and a single tear rolls down his cheek. He is loosing his grip on himself and he knows it.
"Thank you to all who have come here today. It is a true testimate that my life wasn't the only one touched by such a great man." he says and then walks back to his spot next to Kendra and takes her hand and gives it another tight squeeze before turning into her side, wrapping his arms around her, and beginning to sob.
"I knew the professor as just that, a scholar and instructor. I owe him a debt for showing me to my love of magic, and he will always have a place in my heart because of that. Goodbye, my friend."
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"The Professor and I had a great many conversations about the Great Beyond. Although we did not always see eye to eye, he was always very respectful and more importantly, he taught me to accept the views of others, even if I did not agree with them. He was a brilliant man, and shall be missed." Faria's head bows for a moment in silent prayer to the Lady of Graves before she steps back, allowing another to take her place.
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While the party members talk among themselves, Councilman Vashian Hearthmount arrives--precisely on time. It is very clear that he doesn't completely approve of strangers being involved in local matters, but he keeps his comments to himself, focusing his involvement entirely on the reading of Petros' will.
Councilman Vashian produces a scroll case, shows that the professor's personal seal is unbroken, then breaks the wax and opens the case. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the tube, clattering noisily onto the table. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read:
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.
Once the will is read, Councilman Vashian looks to Kendra, who thanks him and dismisses him. Putting on a brave face, Kendra thanks you all again for coming, and informs you that she’ll need at least a few weeks to decide if she wants to sell her family home or remain here in Ravengro—in the meantime, as stipulated by the will, she asks you to remain as well. She offers rooms in her spacious house for all of you, promising you free room and board for the month the will requests them to remain in town, and then excuses herself to go fetch the chest mentioned in the will.
The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and iron. Kendra offers the key to one of you to open 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...