"No one else is coming. Let's not wait any longer." Although Kendra's eyes are red and swollen and a dark veil obscures her face, this trim and attractive woman still presents herself with surprising grace. "I'm afraid I neglected to nominate any pallbearers beforehand. Perhaps some of those gathered here would be willing to volunteer?" The large coffin contains six handrails, although just four pallbearers would probably have sufficient strength to carry it.
Flit stood near the edge of the group, staring out upon the Restlands, his back to the coffin. 'May yeah rest in peace Professor. You were a good man and I hope your passing was peaceful!' He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest as he bowed his head, saying a quick prayer to the Lady of Death.
He turned then and made his way through the small crowd gathered to stand beside the coffin. "It would be an honor to carry your dear father Kendra, but I am afraid I am quite too small. If you will let me I will walk by your side and escort you to the graveside?" He bowed low to the woman, speaking in a soft, compassionate tone before turning to the group.
"Surely some of you fine longfellows will consent to carry our dearly departed acquaintance?
With a voice which seems to come from a faraway place Rego reaches out to the casket with a pale white hand. "I would be honored to be a pallbearer. I am quite sorry for your loss, the Professor was a great friend to me".
Standing off to the side from the group of strangers Beatrix has remained silent until Kendra asks for pallbearers. Stepping forward I would like to help. I may have spent a short time in your dear fathers company but it would be an honor to this last kindness for him.
Beatrix then quietly assumes her position at the side of the coffin.
Awnara also steps forward. "I'd like to help too. I wrote to him by post, and came to know him well. Although I'm not very strong, so I might not be able to carry him far."
"As you know, I am always honored to provide any assistance to the Lamarimars," Councilman Murircar says with a deep bow and an almost overly dramatic air. He tucks his walking cane, studded with some sort of deep green precious stones, into his belt and picks up the pall beside Beatrix.
"Myself as well." Bridgesse speaks much more mutedly and although she keeps a straight face, you get a sense of real pain just behind her voice. She takes her place just behind Rego.
When none of the others step forward to take the coffin, Kendra begins to lead the somber procession down the path which winds through the Restlands. Within minutes however, about a dozen surly looking men converge upon the path ahead, blocking any further progress. In front of them stands a wiry old man with a scowl that's somehow been twisted into a face. He addresses Kendra directly, "That's far enough. We been talking, and we don't want a Lamarimar 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 taking about?" she cries out. "I arranged it with Father Darkwarren. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been..."
"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."
Flit steps away from Kendra and closer to the men who had stopped them. "Was that a threat? You are threatening this poor grieving woman on this, the day of her fathers funeral. Let that sink in for a moment. Kendra Lamarimar, a native of your town, stands before you grieving her father, the late and great Professor, and you would deny her the comfort of seeing her kin put to rest? Have you no shame?"
Beatrix moves to step forward then quickly catches herself. She quietly speaks to the local man next to her. Is this man likely to cause an altercation?
Jing having been watching the precedings from the shadows now steps forwards and slips up behind the old man. "It is quite rude to not honor the dead, perhaps you wish to be treated so when you are dead yourself?" he said calmly and coldly.
Councilman Muricar gives a broad smile when Beatrix speaks to him. "Gibs will run at the first sign of trouble - he nothing to be afraid of. As long as the other back down we shouldn't have any trouble."
Meanwhile, Flitter's words do seem to have a soothing effect upon the crowd - the farming implements are lowered and the mob seems as if it's just about to disperse until Jing steps onto the path.
As soon as the old man leading the mob hears Jing he turns with a start and his eyes go wide when he sees the pantherfolk standing behind him. "WEREWOLF!" he screams as he flees off into the Restlands. About half of the remaining mob steps back in shock, while the others ready their makeshift weapons. Roll20 Link
Flit begins to curse out the Cat man in Halfling, swearing with all his might as he steps in front of Kendra, putting himself before her and the enemy. He draws his pistol as he does and aims it in to the air before pulling the trigger. A cloud of acrid smoke billows from the mechanism and a loud explosion fills the relative quiet.
"STAND DOWN YOU BLOODY WRETCHES! We have no need to bury anyone else today. I have enough lead here to put you all down twice over, so lets not be having any trouble. Let us bury the Professor. This man you have so incorrectly branded a Werewolf is nothing more than a regular person, like me or you. They are not bloodthirsty... well, no more than usual, and they are not afflicted, I assume. Though as I said, they might well be. If you don't visit the temples of Kelistris you end up with crabs that is all I am saying!" He paused for a moment scratching his head in thought. "Or in his case... Fleas? I dunno. Anyway... STOP! We will have no fighting here!"
Jing looks shocked at the fact that someone would mistaken him for a werewolf and looks around weapons brandished and looking like he is ready to kill anyone who come close to him with a weapon.
"Let's put the Coffin down, if we must take up arms we should be ready".
Rego begins to slowly lower the coffin...
Beatrix slowly lowers the coffin never taking taking her hooded gaze from the angry mob.
After a few nervous glances between the smoking gun and the "werewolf" the mob finally looses its will to fight and ambles off; many half-hearted curses can be heard. Councilman Muricar cracks a wide grin and addresses Beatrix again. "Let's see here - a mystery man armed to the teeth, a trigger happy halfing, and a cat.. thing? Cravengro's absolutely going to love you lot."
Meanwhile, to the scene arrives an older man clad in priestly garments a model of a tiny breathing mask around his neck (the holy symbol of Pharasthma). Accompanying him are two other men with robes and shovels, likely acolytes serving as gravediggers. "Kendra, what's going on? I heard a commotion?"
"Nothing to worry about at the present Father Darkwarren. I must apologize to our guests for this unexpected disturbance - I feel it best if we just put this from our minds and continue the service." Kendra seems quite shaken now that the anger has left her voice and limply motions towards the burial plot.
And so the procession proceeds without further hitch towards the burial plot, although many of its members seem to be consciously avoiding looking at the outsiders. Upon arrival, the coffin is slowly lowered into the waiting gravesite as Father Darkwarren quickly and quietly rasps the ancient burial rites known only to the followers of Pharasthma. The whole time Kendra watches motionless, staring blankly at the coffin. While the gravediggers cover the the late Professor with fresh earth, Bridgesse turns to the congregation. "Perhaps we might feel a bit better if someone here were to give a few remembrances or tell a story honoring the Professor? Perhaps one of you outsiders, er, newcomers would like to share? Just so that we might get to know our new guests and their relation to Professor Lamarimar a bit better."
Rego steps forward his voice echoing in his helm, "The Professor saved my life, indirectly. An associate of his who was later to be my mentor was tracking a night fiend to the town where I was living at the time. The timely intervention of that individual saved me from being another victim. But for the Professor's guidance, my mentor would not have had the knowledge to defeat the dreaded creature and I would not be here speaking today. I have ever since dedicated myself to the cause of making the night safe for decent folk and the Professor and I corresponded until..."
Rego steps back saying nothing further.
Flitter stood up straighter and brushed his coat off, making sure he was clean and presentable, before moving to the front of group and turning to face everyone, over the grave.
"I did not know the Professor for long, a handful of years is all. But during that time we grew close, became friends. A friend of mine, my associate and Arcane Consultant, a bright young Half-Orc by the name of Tardek Skarn and I met the Professor several years back whilst we were working as bodyguards for a Merchant who was making a run through Sprucetalav. The Merchant was shorting us for the trip, we had not seen any trouble on our way in so he did not see why he should pay us the same for the way out. Well it was around then that me and Tar figured we didn't see no reason why we should make the run back out, so we took what was owed us and parted company with the Merchant. We kinda floated around Sprucetalav for awhile, till we met the Professor."
"We had heard tell of a man looking for a group of men to help him investigate some local Slanlanty ruins I think they were. Well we signed up at the first chance and the rest is history!"
Flit stood there for a moment, staring down at the grave, before he spoke once again. "About a year ago we got a message from the Professor again, he had another job for us, something similar to the first job we had ever run together. There was a Crypt, couple of weeks in to the wilderness around here, couldn't for the life of me find it again, even if I wanted. But... but yes this Crypt. The Professor knew the way. It seemed pretty routine at first, a couple weeks of slow travel through bad wilderness, being careful not to draw attention, being careful..." He shook himself softly before continuing.
"We got in to the Crypt okay, there were a few traps but nothing we could not handle. We made our way to the heart of the Crypt and there, on a plinth, at the center of the burial chamber, stood this old tablet. Exactly what the Professor expected and was looking for. We shook down the room for traps, disabled what we could and avoided the rest and then... As soon as we touched that damn Tablet the whole place shook. A purple energy burst forth from the sarcophagus at the back of the room and in its mist, the most terrifying creature I have ever seen!"
"It was some high powered undead wretch, wreathed in magic, the feel of the grave emanating from him so strong I could barely breathe. Well... We were out of our depth, this much was true, so we ran. Now on our way in to the Crypt we had stumbled across a section much less stable than the rest. It was the deepest part of the crypt and there musta been ten tonnes of dirt and stone above the ceiling, barely supported by the slowly decaying network of beams and joists and scaffolding. The place was a death trap. We had navigated the area carefully and had temporarily disabled a trap, a magical symbol on the floor, about 20 foot square of symbols actually, which would set off a massive explosion and, more than likely bury the room."
He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. "Well Tar was in back, watching the Professors 6 like a hawk, making sure he was okay. I was forging ahead, keeping the path clear. I... I didn't realize till we were almost across the last stretch of walkway and almost out of the room, but Tar had stopped and was waiting by the trap. He stared down that terrifying beast as it floated towards him, held aloft by evil energies much too powerful to understand. He... He waited till we were out in the hall before he did it, not even saying goodbye!" A single tear slid down Flits cheek and he reached up to wipe it clean.
"The Professor pulled me from the wreckage or I would still be there, trying to dig my way back to that stupid bloody Consultant. I would still... It should have been me. I usually took rear-guard on these things but Tar insisted..."
He seemed to suddenly swim back in to his own eyes, becoming aware once again, losing the far away look. "I... that is, I mean to say, the Professor, he helped me through losing my best friend, he helped me start again. I... I will miss them both!" He coughed and stood back, avoiding looking at anyone.
Although Kendra seems calmed by the impromptu remembrances, most of the others attending the funeral still seem to be on edge.
By this point the gravediggers have finished their work and swiftly depart with Father Darkwarren. The other guests file away shortly after - many offering a few last words to Kendra. Once she's said her goodbyes, Lamarimar's daughter leads you back to the the modest residence that she once shared with her father.
"I must thank you all for attending and for your kind words," - she gives a nod towards Rego and Flit - "And although the funeral was a little more, er, eventful than I'd hoped, I do believe it wouldn't have been successful without you."
Kendra is quick to offer refreshments, fetching anything you might currently desire in the way of light food or drink.
"The reading of my father's will requires the presence of a councilman, however, Councilman Heartmouth has some business to attend to and should be here within the hour. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home. Obviously, I think it'd be best if you all remain here for the present. Word travels quickly here in Cravengro and many here are highly distrustful of outsiders. Especially with all that unpleasant business earlier."
Rego nods to Kendra but looks uncomfortable at best. His helm remains firmly planted on his head with no signs of coming off.
Flit takes a look around the room slowly, smiling slightly. The house was comforting in its own way. Cravengro was dark and depressing, all of Sprucetalav wa, the house made a nice haven from that depression. He nodded his thanks to Kendra before taking a seat.
Awnara clears her throat, and steps forward. "I only met Professor Lamarimar once a few years ago. After that initial meeting, I started writing him by post, and he helped me through a difficult time in my life. I wish our second meeting could have been different - I never got a chance to thank him in person for everything that he did."
Her speech is short, but is heartfelt.
Once back at the Lamarimar residence, she curtseys at Kendra's kindness. "Thank you, and I'd like to make you the same offer. Your father just passed - you shouldn't have to entertain us. Can I get you anything?"
Although Awnara's speech is short, the presence of someone not covered from head to toe in weapons and armor and who didn't recently unload a firearm during a funeral actually seems to comfort the crowd a bit.
+++
Kendra smiles warmly at Awnara, "Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'm not quite in the mood for any food or drink at the moment."
"You're welcome. And I'm sorry for your loss."
Beatrix bows her head slightly at Kendra, "Thank you for your hospitality. You seem just as kind as your father."
Within precisely one hour, Councilman Vancian Heartmouth arrives. He gives a slight nod to Kendra but blatantly ignores the rest of the group, setting down his possessions and producing a scroll case - Professor Lamarimar's will.
Vancian holds the scroll case high for all to see, showing the the Lamarimar family seal unbroken upon the end, then promptly cracks the wax open. As he withdraws the will from its case, a heavy iron key clatters noisily to the table. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read, eager to be done with the business and get back home.
“I, Tetris Lamarimar, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this 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 Lepitsdsdtatdt 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 Lepitsdsdtatdt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
“Yet before you leave for Lepitsdsdtatdt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Cravengro 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 Fembreth Faramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepitsdsdtatdt—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, Tetris Lamarimar, hereby sign this will in Cavengro on this first day of Cagliostril, in the year 4711 AR.”
Hearthmount keeps his tone professional for most of the reading, however his voice wavers a little when he reaches the part abput the "dangerous tomes" and he struggles understandably with the almost impossible to pronounce "Lepitsdsdtatdt." "Well there we have it. Any questions?" The councilman looks longingly towards the door as he asks.
"Seems pretty straight forward. I have no questions anyway. Kendra?" Flit stares at the Councilman the whole time he is speaking, a small smile on his face. "Thank you for your time Councilman. We appreciate it."
"No questions from me either".
"Thank you Councilman, I think I'll be able to take it from here." Kendra opens the door for Heartmouth, who wastes no time in scurrying off into the evening.
"Well then. One whole month? You're certainly going to be some of the most colorful citizens this town has ever had," Kendra says with a smile, although her tone conveys warmth as opposed to mocking, "I myself certainly haven't decided whether or not I'll remain, If I do sell the house and move on in the next month, I'm sure it would be no matter if you left as well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll fetch your part of the inheritance."
Kendra returns with a small chest of made of iron and some dark, sinister oak wood. She sets it upon the table next to the key. Her hands seem to be shaking. "I must confess that I myself am rather apprehensive towards opening this chest, perhaps one of you could volunteer?"
Rego holds his position and makes no further comment.
Flit stands up and moves over to Kendra, looking up at the chest. "Aye I'll open the chest!"
The key and chest lay waiting upon the table.
Flit stops for a second, eyeing up the chest and the key dubiously, before sighing in exasperation and just opening the damn thing. "Only a stupid box. Not like it will exp..." He swears sharply in Halfling as he had the key turned and the lid partially open. "As a man who explores ruins a lot, ya think I'd be more worried about possible traps on things that I dinnae have any idea about! DUH FLIT! Just open the box like a moron..." He stares down at the partially open chest before shrugging, saying f$*! it and flipping open the lid.
A faint hissing sound can be heard as Flit pops open the lid. Immediately inside is a newer looking book with the words READ ME NOW scrawled upon the front cover. Also in the chest are four older tomes.
Flit flinches when the chest hissed, but kept his place, rooted to the spot. When the chest opened he stared inside, frowning, before picking up the book titled "The Umbral Leaves", leaving the Diary, and returning to his seat. He had kicked off his boots at the front door and his feet were clean, so he saw no reason why he should refrain from kicking his legs up to rest on the armrest, relaxing in to the chair.
"Well this would be pleasant if we had some wine, I suppose. Also... Can I smoke in here or should I go out to the porch?"
Flit's choice of reading material elicits a puzzled look from Kendra, but she doesn't take any objection to it. "Yes, thank you, I'd much prefer if you smoke out on the porch. I'd be happy to fetch some wine if you like, however."
When all seems well Rego peers in, "Read me now. If it is alright with you Kendra I will take a look at that one. The title is an invitation I cannot pass up".
Rego removes the book from the chest and stands out of the way next to the wall flipping through...
Flit smiled at Kendra and nodded slightly. "Yes that would be lovely!"
When Kendra returns with the wine, Flit takes his goblet and steps out on to the porch, taking his book with him. He finds a comfortable corner and props himself up against the wall, taking a seat on the cool boards. He pulled his pipe from his pocket and thumbed it full of tobacco, before sparking it up and taking a slow drag. He begins to read, as he smokes and drinks.
Until now Beatrix has stayed against the wall. At the mention of wine she speaks up. Looking over to Kendra "Would you mind sparing a glass of wine for me as well? I would be happy to give you a hand."
Kendra brings up a single bottle of wine from the basement for anyone who desires. "I'm afraid that the days events have left me dreadfully tired, so I believe I shall retire now. Please help yourselves to any food or drink - I've left the cellar unlocked should you feel the need for any more wine. The guest rooms can be found just further down the hall. Goodnight - I pray that you all sleep well." With that Kendra drifts up the stairs to wherever her chambers must be.
Ten Years Ago:
The Lispering 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 Cravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Tarrowstone. 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 Pharasthma must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Tarrowstone. 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 Cravengro. I know that the church of Pharasthma 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 (final journal entry):
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.
Although the dark of the evening makes it difficult to read, nothing could possibly be more relaxing than a glass of wine, a cigar, and a good (albeit unusual) book. Or rather, it would be relaxing were you not suddenly interrupted by the grinning, emanciated man leaping out from behind one of the pillars on the front porch. Before you can react he charges at you, forced into a sickening gait thanks to the fact that both his legs seems to be broken at the knees. Nevertheless he moves with inhuman speed, swinging a large axe straight for your skull. An instant before the axe connects, the man vanishes into thin air.
Flit rolls to his feet, biting back a scream, spilling his wine across the porch and almost across the book. He stands there, glaring around him, stating in to the darkness, his pistol held ready. "That isn't f@&&ing funny!" He shouted, before picking up the book and returning inside.
He returns to the living room and stares around before growling to himself and dropping the book back in to the chest. "I f#&%ing hate Sprucetalav. Forget this... I'm going to sleep!" Flit storms off to find somewhere to curl up and sleep for the night, somewhere small, with only one door and no window, but only after raiding the cellar for something harder than wine. He can't find a closet but does find a wardrobe in one of the guest rooms, and make does with that.
Rego peers into the chest and considers stopping the halfling but thinks better of it allowing him to head where he will.
He closes the diary he is holding and clears his throat, "I think you all should read this. If the Professor is... was right, there may well be danger here in this place we cannot walk away from".
Until know Beatrix has remained sitting on a chair sipping her wine and observing her apparent new companions. I would be willing. Beatrix holds out her hand.