At the mention of the word "necromancer" the blood flushes from Monty's face.
Kiki rolls from his back and cuts under the casket. As it emerges, the curtain of Kiki's playful nature lifts revealing its fierce bestial nature: a nature at once insane and hungry.
The monster growls.
Monty looks up and whispers, a flash of madness streaking across his face.
"Now Kiki, I am sure they don't mean to impede our procession.
Monty's whisper cuts over Kiki's rumbling.
You see gentlemen, at sight of evil my playful companion sheds his friendlier temperament. Let us pass: if necromancy lies ahead of us, I assure you: it shall be smoten. As to the professor interred within this casket, let his saintly burial concern you not.
Monty looks to Blackheath. Kiki leans forward — ready to pounce.
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"Tell your cat to stop humping my leg!"
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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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Excited to get another chance to talk to a captive audience, Blackheath clears his throat...
BLACKHEATH & PROF. LORRIMOR vs. THE BANSHEE
My mother -- before she was mauled to death by a giant turkey, long may she rest -- once told me that the world is mad and we may either choose to laugh at it or cry for it. Generally, I choose the former, but on a day like today I'm hardpressed not to cry for those who will never know Petros Lorrimor.
I recall the night that he and I came upon the lair of the banshee. Out of confidentiality, I cannot tell you which great town was suffering from the terrible nightly visitations of that baleful creature, but Petros -- for no fee-- volunteered to put the vengeful spirit to rest.
We knew not from whence it issued. It had only made itself known through a diabolical keening that had turned the milk of the cows sour and caused the night watch to call in all their sick days. We began our vigil at dusk outside the churchyard and waited: Petros reading his book, and I playing a quiet game of cup-and-ball.
When we heard the first 'WwwwwwwowoowowoooooOOOOOOOaooooaAAAAARRRRrooooooooooo!' we froze. Up until that point I don't believe either of us had understood the full seriousness of the quest. The banshee's cry was so alien, so unearthly, that it felt as though we had slipped through the mist into some other realm, some world where dawn would never come, where hope died like an untended fire...
'Blackheath' said Petros, 'Steel yourself, laddie, for we must follow these cries back to the nest of the revenant' I asked if there might be another way, or if we shouldn't just hope that it might do a repeat performance on a sunnier night, but Petros -- terrified as we both were -- was determined to help the honest townsfolk even at the risk of our lives... and perhaps our souls.
'WooooooooOOOOAOOOOAOOOOAaaaaaaRRRRRRrrrrrAAAaaaaaoooo!'" came the cry, echoing as if from everywhere and nowhere. We grabbed out gear and set out, quailing in our hearts. 'RRRRRrrrrrOOOOOOWwwwwwwAAAAAa!!!' Closer now! It was not far from us, maybe one hundred yards or so. I could barely hear for the noise of the painful pounding in my chest. Petros shouted: 'Look there!' and I turned the lantern to follow his direction. The pale light fell on an old and ominous stormdrain. A cold black hole in the white landscape, like the empty glaring eye socket in the face of a skull.
We approached the storm drain and two things happened simultaneously: another piercing scream 'WAAAAaaaaaaRRRRRrrrrrroooooooo' and the lantern went out!
Petros and I stood frozen with fear. We were barely feet from the entrance of the storm drain and the creature and we were plunged into the deepest darkness. I admit, to my eternal shame, I was ready to flee -- to run, to sprint, to leave the villagers to their own luck. But just as things seemed most black and most desperate, a light appeared... Petros sparked his tinderbox, and with a dedicated but shaking hand he relit the lantern. As the light fell on him, I gasped for his hair which had been so healthy and youthful had turned completely white!
'Come then,' he said, 'Let us make an end of this one way or the other!' He took the lantern from my weak fingers and he approached the storm drain, and boldly thrust his arm in. 'WWWWWRRRRRARRARARARRAROOOOAOAOAOOAOAOAOAOOO!'
I couldn't look! I turned my face away and begged him not to go closer! But he stuck his head into the drain and then I heard it -- a sound I had forgotten since the first keening cry of the banshee, a sound I thought never to hear again -- Petros laughed. No! He guffawed! He gave a great roaring bellylaugh!'
At first I thought he had gone mad, but after a few moments of clutching his side, he beckoned me over...
'Well, Blackheath,' said he, 'That Banshee was quite a monster and gave us quite a scare, but, luckily for us, these two cats seemed to have frightened it away!'
I looked into the drain and there were two sets of small glowing eyes staring at me -- one set just above the other. The tomcat looked at me and his companion let out a 'wwwwwrrrraaaaaoooooooaoaoa' very similar to that of a Banshee."
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My mother -- before she was mauled to death by a giant turkey
WTF?!? LOL! :-)
The tomcat looked at me and his companion let out a 'wwwwwrrrraaaaaoooooooaoaoa' very similar to that of a Banshee."
ROFL!
I dropped the usual bold-for-dialogue because it made it too hard to read. I might do something similar for longer speeches by Blackheath( man, he talks a lot) if everyone is okay with that.
Sure. Fine by me.
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Gravleon looks to see if anyone else is going to step forward to speak. When he sees that no one else is going too he reluctantly steps forward and says,
"The professor was a great man and I owe him my life. He found me during a low point in my life on the wrong path and stopped me from doing something I would have regretted for the rest of my life. He showed me there was more to life and set me on a different path. For this I owe him everything. You will be missed my friend." He reaches into his coat and pulls something out wrapped in a cloth holding onto it he says
”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. The Professor didn’t pity me or coddle me, 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 and share his life. Thank you.”
With reverence Gravleon hold the covered object to his head in a quiet prayer and tosses it into the hole. He turns and walks back to the others and waits.
Tears stream down Monty's cheeks. He unrolls a parchment from cloak.
Professor Lorrimor was my mentor. Without him, I would still be lost in the forest of spirits. We never had time to review my last paper, so, here, among friends...let me just read the abstract as testament to his amazing work.
Monty clears his throat.
To define the prevalence of total coronary occlusion in patients exposed to Acremonium sp hours after transmural myocardial infarction, we used coronary arteriography to study the degree of coronary obstruction in 322 patients admitted within 24 hours of infarction.
Monty starts to sob
Total coronary occlusion was observed in 110 of 126 patients (87 per cent) who were evaluated within four hours of the onset of symptoms; this proportion decreased significantly, to ...
Monty wipes his tears.
this proportion decreased significantly, to 37 of 57 (65 per cent), when patients were studied 12 to 24 hours after the onset of symptoms. Among 59 patients with angiographic features of coronary thrombosis, the thrombus was retrieved by Fogarty catheter in 52 (88 per cent) but was absent in seven (12 per cent false positive).
After administering denatured mummy rot patients showed...complete...recovery. Thank you...Doctor.
Monty salutes and drops the rolled paper into grave.
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Dolgarth, especially in contrast to the group of insane people he now stands among, in his opinion, is not one for big flowery speeches. But the Professor taught him to do some things outside of his range of comfort. He clears his throat.
"Petros Lorrimor was as good a human as you'd e'er come by. I don't remember much o' anythin' from that dark time, but I'll try ta tell it like it was. People were runnin' away from me. I was walkin' ta along the road, walked right into a door ta a house at th' end o' th' road. An' I was hungry, so's I bash'd it in. An' there're Petros an' Kendra, in that room, cookin' somethin'.
Now, of course, Kendra screams an' runs from th' room. I thought it was 'cause I was a zombie. An' Petros jus' looks at me, while I'm tryin' ta eat 'im, and he does somethin' with some sorta positive energy, but it di'n't work, and he says, 'Well, looks as if you've been cursed, friend dwarf,' an' I jus' stop in me tracks. And he does somethin' else, and I feel like meself again.
An' so's I ask, 'Will you be my mentor, r' at least me friend?' An' he tol' me it'd be a pleasure. And he has been, sincerely th' day we met till this fateful day." The dwarf tries to be gruff about it, but he too bursts into tears, practically howling and pounding his fists against his strange, skull-motif armor.
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The crowd looks confused. "Did he just say that he was a zombie?" There's some murmuring.
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Some of the locals say a few words. Then Petros is interred. That there isn't a dry eye around is a testament to the man.
In general, the crowd of locals is impressed with you "outsiders" as a group. You diffused the situation with the surly farmers, and you spoke well of Petros.
After the funeral is over and Kendra has said her goodbyes to the other guests, she invites the party back to her home (so recently her father's) for a drink and to hear his last will and testament.
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The Lorrimor residence is a modest home with crowded bookshelves in every room. The reading of the professor's will requires the presence of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount (the closest thing Ravengro has to a solicitor), and he has some other matters to attend to after the funeral, so he won't arrive for about an hour.
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Blackheath takes off his hat before entering the house, and tucks his ears under his wavy hair. He leans what appears to be a greatsword (still completely wrapped in oilcloth) against a wall and settles in for the wait.
"Friends, we have time to kill, and you have all impressed me greatly with your fidelity to our late mentor. I would like to know more about you all. As for me, I am just what you see: Blackheath, a fool and monster-slayer. Yet all of you, forgive me for saying it, but I suspect you are all more complicated than first impressions might suggest." The clown's piercing blue eyes flicker across the faces of the party.
"And now that we are out of the public eye, we might speak more freely. In return, I will be happy to answer any questions you have about me -- but I warn you-- reality never lives up to expectations. And by now, I think you've heard me speak enough so...."
Monty sits down. Kiki jumps in his lap.
"Dolgarth, have you any experience in these lands? Personally, I have been quite impressed by the flora and fauna indigenous to these parts.
Monty takes out a stack of release forms. Bits of leaves and flowers fall from the legal documents.
And now that you bring up fauna and flora, I wanted to circulate these release forms. In oh so many words, this form allows me to sample spores from your face and ears after you are deceased. I am a trained herbalist, obviously, and if you sign this form I will try to do everything I can to prevent your, um, passing. I hope the day of your death never comes, but I find trained survivalists and undead slayers are almost always interested in furthering sciences endeavors to beat back the evil forces of our lands.
Monty slides one to Dolgarth.
Do you need a pen old chap?
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Dolgarth is silent for a few second before answering. "I was never a zombie after all. 'Twas th' armor I'm wearin' now. Gravesoul Armor it's called, but now it's disenchanted. Made me think I was undead." Dolgarth pauses once more, his questioning sense of Monty's sanity growing. No, I'm not from these here parts. Far north o' Belkzen. An' if ye swab me dead body, ye've got somethin' else comin'. Sure I'll work with ye, but why wouldja need me skin samples?"
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Gravleon comes into the house and removes his traveling cloak and he places it on a hook to dry setting down his shield and sword he unravels the head rap he has on reveling that he is a half orc
"please I see that we are all friends here and I won't need to hide my true self from you, I have been a cleric ever since I learned all I could with the professor when I stayed here and after a few years I took what I learned and dedicated my life to ending the undead...I must apologize I can't sing that for if and when I die my body will be sent to the everlasting light by fire as is the custom for my sect"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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With only the grave digger and ghosts as his auidence, Vandel begins his last words to his friend, "Sorry Oldman....I should...of said something to crowd, how you saved you and me well from myself..." He chuckled at the end to mask his sorrow. "I never told you..that I am gre..well..... you know...Thanks!" He finally spits out, "Only you gave a damn about where my life was going, and helped me get out from the hounds before I lost my life or soul." His eyes begin to water and he reaches into his pouch and puts a silver on the headstone, "I owed you for our last game." With a smirk the human walks away.
Monty turns to the group.
Friends, yes, all of our lives have been touched by Professor Lorrimor and it is good that we all meet. And the cordial tone of our meeting is...pleasant. You all seem so familiar — like family. Yes, in each of you, I see elements of our friend. From the strong
Monty looks at Dolgarth
to the wise
Monty turns to Gravleon
to the...um...theatric
Monty turns to Blackheath.
Nonetheless, I am deeply concerned about his death. Those villagers may...
Monty slams his fist against the table.
A low grumbling, like distant thunder, rattles from Kiki.
Damn it. Why friends? Doesn't all of this seem suspicious. Or have I spent too much time amongst the pure motivations of simple creatures to read the hearts of men?
Monty looks away. Again, a madness bubbles from his eyes, a madness that is perhaps a shade his true nature or perhaps a vision of the wildness within. Suddenly, he pushes the table away from himself and stands, turning his back to the group, looking out a far window.
Damn them he whispers.
After a moment Monty turns from the window. In a deep, penetrating voice more growl than words:
Those bastards might be desecrating his grave now!
He punches the wall.
spoiling the secret spores entombed within!
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"I didn't see any near by, when I left." The figure from says from the doorway. The onlookers see a cloaked human with broad shoulders and standing a little over 6 feet. The man is clutching a spear and clad in light leathers. "It seems the Old Man keeps some interesting comrades. I am Vandel Kur'resh, an associate of the Old Man or I mean the Professor." Vandel says with a embarrassed shrug.
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Blackheath looks to the man in the doorway.
"Thank you. I share our medico's concerns about the sanctity of the Professor's spores when an angry mob almost prevented his burial. It comforts me to know the graveyard was empty."
"I didn't hear you come in. That's something I dislike in an enemy but value in a friend. Welcome, friend Vandel. We were discussing how we came to know Petros -- and judging by your determined expression I'm sure you have quite the tale to tell.'
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Gravleon shakes his head and holds onto the holy symbol of the dawnflower around his neck
"No...that cemetery will never be empty it is now filled with a great man and the memories of him...but yes I do believe those moronic farmers would not dare desecrate a grave site...I did not sense that kind of evil from them..."
he lets the pendant fall back to hang on the chain around his neck
"Monty calm your self worry about the thing you can effect not things out of your reach..."
he then turns to the man in the door way
"Master Kur'resh, was it...I saw you left some coin with the good man.. still had a debt to pay then?"
Gravleon ask in a friendly manner
Michael, could you please create an alias for Monty? Please also add summary stats for him? Email me if you need help or have questions. Thanks! :)
Things I can effect, Gravleon? Am I the only one who wonders about the circumstances of our friend's death?
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"no monty don't misunderstand me, when I say the things you can't effect. I mean if someone or something did end his life there is nothing we could have done about it, but I know that the light will lead me to them so I can them clean..."
a small spark of fire came from Gravleon's hand when said burn
*cough*
"sorry sometimes my passion gets the better of my control..."
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Click the EDIT button next to Monty
There will be an option to set a "Character Image"
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Vandel gives Blackheath a nod then taking a few steps into the room the young man stops, and then with hesitation he removes his hood. As the cowl is lowered, Vandel shows his varisian heritage in his tan skin and his shoulder length black hair. His chin still adorned with stubble and the striking feature of 3 curved scars under his right eye. He rubs his hand on the scars, "Tell you the tale of how I met the Old man, well first you must understand what these mean. If you aren't from the lands around the Shudder woods you might just think of them as unfortunate wound from a hunt but the truth is it's the symbols of the Hounds of the Black Moon, a large bandit group that call that area home." He tenses up as he reveals that, then starts back up when no one comes at him.
"As you might have guessed I was a part of them for a little time, or at least until the day I met the Old Man. See I am not trying to look for any sympathy when I tell people I grew up in an abusive home and don't use it as an accuse for the crimes I have or will commit. I just want to give you an idea why I took the criminal path, it was at the time my only means of escape and I was a foolish kid at the time. But I am moving away from the original story; I met the Professor through the hounds because I was supposed to kidnap him so we could ransom him back."
The rogue looks a little nervous as he shares his tale with total strangers and tries to cut it short, "As you can tell I never took him to Hounds camp, the potential he said I had and the whole thing didn't seem right. So I let him go, I took a few lashes for my failure but I felt it was worth it. I would check in on him and give him a warning of any roads to avoid, and after a bit a friendship started. I'm not a man of many words so let's cut to the chase; he helped me get out of that part of my life. And for that I am grateful to the geezer, and if anybody did cause this death I will be finding out." Relief washes over the young man's face as he finishes the story then he looks on to this wondering what compelled him to share all that with them.
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As the party members continue 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.
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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...
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Blackheath nods to Vandel as the young man finishes his story. "Petros Lorrimor was a great 'spotter' of talent and virtue. I'd trust him with my life, and I trust his judgment still, even after death. All experience and all roads can be turned toward the good. I am glad to have you with us."
He breaks off to listen to the reading of the will...
After the Kendra returns and opens the chest, Blackheath is thoughtful and quiet. He stares for a long while at the words on the leather bound book before saying: "The moment of truth is upon us. Who will do the honors?"
hold on friends
Cast detect magic and detect poison
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The books themselves are netiher magic nor poisoned. Monty's detections yield no results. However, as a scholar, he realizes that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.
Gravleon picks up Petros' journal. The majority of the entries are relatively bland, accounting for day-to-day activities in a small town. The professor has circled several entries in the book with red ink, though. The final entry, dated 17 days ago, was written on the same day the Professor's body was found.
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
TWO MONTHS AGO:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
ONE MONTH AGO:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
TWENTY DAYS AGO:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
EIGHTEEN DAYS AGO:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
SEVENTEEN DAYS AGO:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.