Professor Petros Lorrimor was many things - educator, researcher, father, friend.
Now, he is dead.
The news came without warning and without explanation on a pallid parchment you each received in your travels, inviting you to the village of Ravengro to attend the professor's funeral. The details were sparse, but they promised that "important matters of estate and property requiring your assistance will be settled after the professor is laid to rest".
Whether in honor of a memorable life cut short, out of curiosity of what will become of Lorrimor's legacy and property, or in the hopes of a new adventure to be found deep in the sprawl of Ustalav, the time for you to depart came swiftly.
As you go further north, it's as if the life itself is drained from the landscape - colorful foliage and pleasant birdsong gives way to sparse, spindly plants and the mournful wail of the chill wind. The journey to commemorate one life lost gives you a great deal of time to reflect upon your own existence, and the wilds of Ustalav in which you now find yourself seem to mirror the melancholy occasion.
Finally, you arrive in Ravengro. A heavy pallor, the shade not only of clouds and trees, hangs over the town. A prickling sensation on your neck draws your gaze to the hulking silhouette of a crumbling stone fixture lurking upon the highest hill, the hint of decrepit buildings and towers breaking the shape of its long-abandoned wall. Something within seems to call to you - then again, you're just psyching yourself out, so you shake off the feeling and continue into town.
The funeral is still a few hours away, giving you time to get to grips with your surroundings. Your next endeavor is only just beginning...
Baron Sandu Rando looks around Ravengro with equal parts curiosity and joy.
I haven't been this far north since my Lepidstadt days; lord, it's good to be back.
Sandu searches for a place he might settle in for a drink, some food, and most importantly, some good conversation.
Dimitri climbs down from the carriage that has brought him north, collects his meagre pack, and stretches in an attempt to releive the cramp that has developed over the long journey. It is a long time since he has visited the land of his birth, and he never expected that a funeral would be the thing to call him back.
Overhead his Familiar, Skraw, wheels and lets out a screech. Dimitri smiles. It has been a long journey for Skraw as well, and through their empathic link he can sense the ache in the hawks wings, the desire to scout out a hunting ground and a safe place to rest.
He looks around, taking in the heavy pall of cloud that seems to hang over the town along with the sparse vegetation and notable lack of birdsong. Hunting may be not be so easy here my friend he thinks as his gaze is drawn towards the hulking siluette of decrepit and broken
towers that crown a nearby hill. Perct hunting grounds for mice and rodents - at least in theory - but somehow the look of the place sends a shiver down his spine, and he senses that it is an unease that Skraw shares.
Shaking his head he turns his back on the place and begins looking for a place to stay. A soft bed and a mug of ale should help him to relax, and maybe he can find some scraps to feed to Skraw as well.
Harrowstone's destruction in the fire of 4661 damaged the town's well-being almost beyond repair. All of its prisoners were lost, and the prison was subsequently abandoned, pulling the reputation of the area down with it. Now, Ravengro is a modest village with a reasonably booming economy, but the memory of the fire and its citizens' fearful attitude toward outsiders has proven to be one of its greatest obstacles.
The outlandishly dressed (by human standards) gnome who is frequently called Sabs gawks at the ruined building on the hill but is quickly distracted by the many townsfolk going about their daily business. At the first opportunity she assails someone with a string of words, nearly shouting, “Hi! I’m Sabrina Sara Sierra Sabelsash. I’m looking for the death ritual of human ‘Professor’ Petros Lorrimor so that I can observe it, perhaps from within the ritual space! I’m talking loudly so that you might understand me better! Maybe I should speak…slower...too!.” She continues speeding up again, ”Would you please direct me to the correct human structure so that I can partake?”
The townsfolk don't take too kindly to the gnome's loud addresses, quickly adapting their paths to avoid her at all costs - whether out of a particular distaste for gnomes or a general distrust of strangers, it's difficult to tell. Whatever the case may be, her attempts at diplomacy fall on mostly deaf ears, only eliciting a few pointed glares and mutters about the funeral taking place "up at the Restlands". The northern half of the road that cuts through the village square appears to run toward a boneyard several hills over, just barely distinguishable in the dreary half-light.
"A bit insensitive dont you think?" Dimitri comments as he approaches the strange gnome, "Although in this event I suspect Professor Lorrenzo would have approved. Knowledge and study always before anything else - safety and dignity included. Did you know the professor?"
He eyes the Gnome thoughtfully. Although not unusual in Cheliax where he has been studying, they are a rare sight in his ancestral homeland, and he is surprised to meet one here in the back of beyond.
Sabs smiles broadly at Dimitri, ”I did know human professor Petros Lorrimor! I also imagine he’s very insensitive. Dead skin does not react the same way as live skin when stimulus is applied.” Her considerable eyes go even wider ”Are you mourning him too? How exciting!” Sabs follows Dimitri around incessantly asking questions about the process, purpose, and significance of the funeral all the while making notes.
Riding into town on her rented horse, Uæiana quickly finds a stabel to give the horse a rest waiting for the next traveler to rent him back to Caliphas.
As she walks through town to find the restlands to say her last farewell. "It's to sad to be back under these circumstances, I was really excited to show him the new pages in my book." She thinks stroking the back of her special book, deep in thoughr she almost walks past the gnome and human talking about the professor. "Excuse me do any of you know where we are to send Professor Lorrimor to Pharasma's spiral?"
"Yes well, I'm not sure exciting is quite the usual turn of phrase for these things. I expect a lot of people will be somewhat upset, it is normal to at least pretend a show of sympathy and tell them how sad you are for their loss." a slightly bemused Dimitri answers the gnomes questions, detailing the etiquette and procedures of funeral rites and the differences between Ustalav, where he grew up, and Cheliax, where he has been studying, although I am not an expert you understand. This is my first as a matter of fact - I too am here to pay my respects, although I can't say I knew the professor well."
As they talk he steers towards an inn, where they meet another funeral attendee "The professors funeral?" he replies to Uliana, "as a matter of fact we are on our way there ourselves. Just as soon as I book myself into a room. This inn will do I suppose"
He eyes the inn dubiously, but considers that there probably aren't many more options to choose from.
Uliana nods towards Dimitri "That actually sounds like a good idea. I was half expecting to be allowed to stay in the Professor's old home, since I received such a person summon to come here. This village is quite a bit from Varisia so wasn't thinking I would need to pay an inn here, guess sometimes my head is in another place." she responds with a smile.
Two establishments stand out as being possible respites for travelers, each with their own unique sign. On the northwest end of the square sits a modest-looking tavern bearing a sign that identifies it as "The Laughing Demon". Judging from the warm light and laughter visible through the doorway and smudged windows, it's a popular spot with the locals.
The other option is a large building on the eastern side called "The Outward Inn". Its decorations and structure are nicer than the tavern's and likely denote a higher price. No other places of rest are readily visible.
"I rather assumed the family will want some space. But I suppose if you knew them well they might accommodate you."
Dimitri weighs his purse and considers the options. Normally he would be swayed towards the more expensive inn, but perhaps there is something to be said for lively company after a funeral.
Skraw wheels above the humans talking below. Through her empathic link she senses her masters weariness, along with his wary trust of these newcomers.
Weary and hungry herself she swoops over their heads and lands on a nearby sign, announcing her presence with a shrill screech.
"Skraaaaw"
At Dimitri's suggestion Sabs does her best impersonation of someone being somber.
But quickly becomes distracted by Uliana, "I've never seen a human like you! Perhaps a new undiscovered sub-species?" Glancing over at Skraw she says conspiratorially, "Is that bird following us?"
Uliana laughs a little at the gnomes question regarding her. "Nothing undiscovered here little one, I'm an aasimar with a celestial bloodline tracing back to a fallen angel in ages past. Or so the professor told me when I met him looking for this book." she says holding her hand over the book hanging from her belt.
An asimar. Dimitri has heard of the celestial lineage, but never encountered one of them. No wonder Skraw is feeling uneasy.
"Don't mind the Hawk. She's with me."
He pushes open the door of the laughing demon and makes to enter, looking for the proprietor. "Looks like this is the place. I'm just going to book in and then head on up to the gathering."
This trip is proving more and more unusual, although perhaps that shouldn't be entirely surprising given the eclectic nature of the professors studies.
If the others look like they are going to enter the tavern he holds the door for them otherwise he simply heads in and books his room, figuring he will catch them up soon enough.
The interior of the Laughing Demon is exactly what you'd expect from a tavern, much of which is a good thing: the sounds of happy patrons, the intermingling smells of good food and strong ale, a hint of sawdust, and the warmth of a freshly-stoked fire. The lanterns on the walls couple with the fire in the hearth to throw flickering shadows across the common room, evoking the feel of dancing within the depths of the Abyss.
As soon as you enter, however, the noise subsides as every occupant turns to look at you for several long, uncomfortable seconds. The only one who doesn't seem fazed is the huge, ruddy-faced man behind the bar, and it's just as well; an unfriendly barkeep makes for an empty tavern.
He waves you over with hands the size of hams and a grin that splits his face from end to end. "Good evening and good fortune, travelers! Welcome to my humble establishment."
Noticing the reaction of most of the locals as he walks in, and then again when a new set of strangers walks in, Sandu walks over the the group.
"Greetings, greetings! Acquaintances of Professor Lorrimor, I presume? A pleasure to meet you, I am Baron Sandu Randa," he says with a bow and a flourish. Then, a bit more under his breath:
"Not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting, eh? Trust me, if you ever came up farther north to the University, we'd show a bit more hospitality."
Uliana looks around getting a Deja vu of the last time when she first arrived with Lorrimor "Hmm people seems as friendly as I remember them, perhaps I should just set up a tent outside somewhere." she says to the others before the stranger approaches them.
Uliana smiles at the Baron, at least she knows his name. "Ah the Baron. Hi I'm Uliana of the Pharasmin church." she says returning the bow. "Lorrimor mentioned you a few times, back when he was teaching me how to study a spellbook and scribe new spells into it. Always thouht that you dedicated too much of your time to your blade rather than your spells, but he couldn't complain about the results. He must found your style very interresting, for him to keep mentioning it."
A fellow noble, and a spellcaster as well. Seemingly Lorrimor kept at least some normal company between his more exotic travels.
Dimitri extends his hand in greeting,"Dimitri Pavlenco. Your presumption is most correct sir, we have just arrived and are looking for lodging before we attend his service. A tragic loss indeed."
"Lorrimor mentioned you a few times, back when he was teaching me how to study a spellbook and scribe new spells into it. Always thouht that you dedicated too much of your time to your blade rather than your spells, but he couldn't complain about the results. He must found your style very interresting, for him to keep mentioning it."
"Ahh yes, he couldn't help but take a jab every now and again at my lack of focus on my studies. I've always enjoyed spending more time in the sparring ring than at a desk, but ol' Petros made sure I didn't give up on the more cerebral arts. He knew a day would come when I'd lose a step or two and need to rely on something other than my reflexes; I'll tell you, I'm not so sure that day is too far off."
Sandu chuckles to himself at his self-deprecation, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the rapier at his belt, as if he needs to make sure it's still there. Looking at the barkeep, he raises his voice above the sounds of the tavern.
"Greetings, sir! Your tavern is as warm and welcoming as I remember! Could you kindly fetch a round of drinks for my companions and myself? I prefer wine, and perhaps something that's had some time to age, what do you say?"
"It's quite good to have a talent with both, the spells I've had the most aptitude for was buffing my swings and cure the wounded. But he always told me that I cast my spells in a most unuseal way considering it's holy magic and not of the arcane arts, yet I cast spells from a book like most wizards." She says making a gesture towards her book.
"Well thank the God's for making people like yourselves to swing blades around. I could never get the hang of the bloody things." Dimitri says. "I'll take you up on that glass of wine though kind sir. A toast to the professor heh?"
A stout dwarf awkwardly enters the bar, weapons clanging against armor. He looks tired from the journey here, and has clearly just arrived.
He wears sturdy, but worn armor, with a shield slung on his back, a bow and quiver over his shoulder, and waraxe hanging at the ready. His messy brown hair rests on his shoulders.
He looks around the room, looks like he is about to say something, but stops himself and heads straight to the bar.
”Ale for a weary traveler?”
He places a few silver on the bar.
Uliana looks to the others. "Anyone knows how much time we got before the funeral begins? I'd like to prepare myself to send him of to be judged by Pharasma."
She looks over to the newcomer "You also here for the funeral Sir dwarf?"
Harbek looks up from his pint, foam on his beard, and looks in the direction of the voice.
Yes, the name’s Harbek. I didn’t know the Dr. for long, but I did know him.
"Greetings, sir! Your tavern is as warm and welcoming as I remember! Could you kindly fetch a round of drinks for my companions and myself? I prefer wine, and perhaps something that's had some time to age, what do you say?"
The massive barkeep peers at Sandu for a few moments, and then erupted into raucous laughter. This seems to mollify the other patrons enough for them to stop staring for the time being. ”Ah, it’s the good baron himself! You haven’t forgotten your old friend Zokar, have you?”
The slab of a man, apparently known as Zokar, motions the party toward a table off the side, conveniently situated out of the way of the rest of the barflies. ”Sit, sit - rest those weary bones, all of you. I won’t have it said that I don’t take care of tired travelers!”
He winks at the dwarf who came in a bit late, pushing the silver coins back across the bar. ”Your new friend, the fellow in the fancy clothes over there, is treating this evening. Relax!”
With that, he pops into the back for a few moments, returning with fine wine, several flagons of ale, and platter of bread and cheese. ”There - be merry while you may, friends. You should have just enough time to eat before the funeral begins.”
Harbek wipes his beard and collects his beer. He leaves a silver for the bartender anyway, out of respect, and goes over to meet the other party members.
Sabs at the mention of free drinks quickly consults a list and mutters, ”Surely this combination of words is a drink name.” She loudly requests, ”A hip and hen please! If not then just brandy!” If she gets what she wants she crosses off an item on the list.
When Harbek walks over she enthusiastically says, ”Hi! I’m Sabrina Sara Sierra Sablesash, you can call me Sabs if you don’t want to alliterate.” At the mention of funeral Sabs tries to put on a somber face again but fails spectacularly and manages to merely twitch her broad grin.
"It's a rather long name I'd think it would be easier for me to remember Sabs." Uliana says smiling to the gnome, she accepts a drink as it's placed before her and lifts it. "Let's make a final toast to Lorrimor, and make sure to send him on his way so Pharasma can judge his soul worthy to join the afterlife in his own little heaven." she says making the pharasmin symbol in the air.
"To professor Lorrimor." Dimitri says, raising his glass in the air.
Ah, it’s the good baron himself! You haven’t forgotten your old friend Zokar, have you?
"Certainly not, my good man, certainly not. Glad to be back, very glad indeed."
Turning to the rest of the group, Sandu speaks.
"Today is a somber day, but we celebrate a man who was anything but somber. Let us remember him at his best, and forget him at his worst. And may Pharasma judge his soul fairly, because as we all know, it would only be fair to judge him worthy. To Petros!"
Some of the surlier-looking drinkers noisily scrape their chairs back and start to trickle out of the tavern, muttering among themselves and shooting you dirty looks on their way out. The barkeep, whether blissfully unaware or just trying to avoid a fight, ignores them and wanders by your table once more.
”If you choose to stay until the funeral, then we will settle the tab tomorrow,”Zokar says as he delivers the brandy to Sabs. ”I’m not one to gouge good people for gold in times of mourning.” With a wink and another canyon-wide smile, he lumbers back over to the bar, leaving you to your own devices.
”I will call you Sabs then, because I doubt I can remember the rest. Pleased to meet you. The name’s Harbek Torunn.”
Harbek raise his glass during the toast and drinks, but says nothing. He seems content, but a bit lost in his thoughts.
"Welcome to our little somber group Harbek, you may call me Uliana. By the look of your equipment I'd say you are a warrior, have you been hired to protect the professor on his travels?"
Harbek answers between bites of food and sips of ale.
”What gave me away?” Harbek says with a smile; obviously sarcastic, but not intending any ill will toward you.
”He never hired me, but circumstances thrust us together once for a short time. Professor Lorrimor was a fearless man, driven to shining a light on dark dealings.”
A slight pause...
”He helped me see the error in my ways when I was mixed up with a bad crew. I’d be on a very different path if I hadn’t met him.”
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Sabs raises her glass mimicking the rest of the party and awkwardly quaffing the whole drink. She begins to jot notes down.
Baron Sandu Randa - Baron is a possible honorific. Subject Uliana of the Pharasmin Church referred to him as THE Baron, the definite article suggests this and possibly it refers to a unique honorific, though not necessarily.
Uliana of the Pharasmin Church - Semi-regularly invokes the goddess Pharasma, this plus the fact that she suggested she could cast holy magic and associates her name with a church implies she at least thinks she’s some sort of religious figure. The most exciting thing is that she’s very obviously a rare breed of human that potentially has ancestry from a fallen angel. I have theorized that it's possible for outsiders to breed with and produce viable offspring with humans, but up until now it was merely a theory. If I am able to do so I must obtain a blood sample for testing.
Dimitri Pavlenco - A hawk constantly follows this human around. He has possibly formed a magical bond with this animal to bolster his own magical capabilities, potentially a member of a druidic circle. This would be the first human druid I’ve encountered, even gnomish druids are a secretive bunch.
Harbek - A short and stout human, sometimes referred to as a dwarf. I have seen these types of humans before and I suspect that they may not actually be humans at all. If they are a subspecies then they should be able to breed with the general human population and produce viable offspring. I should pay close attention to Harbek to see if he partakes in any mating rituals.
The Toast - One of the first bonding rituals I have taken a part of. It involves raising a glass of some form of alcohol, making short speeches about a particular person, speaking of them favorably, or saying “To [human name]!” and then drink the drink. I’m unsure if it's appropriate to ‘propose a toast’ to someone who is alive or even present. Conservatively I have not proposed a toast in my honor to test the theory as it might jeopardize my tenuous place in the group.
Harbek eyes the book, but then recognizes that it is in a language he doesn’t know.
So, how did the rest of ya meet the Professor?
With stories told and introductions made, it’s time to head to the funeral. The Restlands are located just outside town on the northern path, so they’re well within walking distance. Once you head out of the tavern, it becomes apparent just how few people will be joining you - most of the villagers appear to be in the square, carrying out their lives as normal.
Harbek leans toward the group and whispers:
”I thought the professor was from here. Aren’t his neighbors and the rest of the townsfolk coming to pay their respects?”
"I don't really think the professor was well liked here. It's probably one of the reasons he was traveling so much around the Inner Sea region on adventures. But I had assumed we would be quite a bit more to attend than this." Uliana says mostly talking to herself at the remark of Harbek.
As they leave the inn, Dimitri gathers up a handful of leftovers for Skraw.
"The lonely life of the academic. Given the amount of travelling he did, he might not have been so well known around here. They probably have no idea how well he is regarded in the wider world or the ramifications of his studies. The locals hardly seem the sort to apreciate academic literature after all."
As they walk, he holds the scraps of food he has gathered aloft for Skaw to take.
After what seems like an age, Dimitri emerges from the inn amongst what seems to be a growing flock of land walkers. He is still exuding wariness towards them along with a sense of collective sadness, but food and wine have mellowed his caution somewhat.
Skraw lifts into the air with a shreik, typical human lulled by food an companionship. It looks like Skraw will have to be the one to keep an eye out for trouble - as usual. At least he has remembered to bring some food.
As Dimitri lifts a handful of scraps high in the air Skraw swoops and takes them in her talons, retreating to a nearby rooftop from where she can both eat and keep an eye on her master.
My letter was a bit vague on what happened to him. Do any of you know how he met his end?
"I Can't say that I do, I expected we would hear it from the priest doing his last rites."
"i was not given any details, just requested to attend. I suppose given the kind of trouble he tends to get into, it is a blessing that it happened close enough for his family to recover his body and find closure."
Sabs ponders the question, "Speculation! He could have suffered a decrease in blood flow to the main cardiopulmonary organ, commonly found in the chest of most humans. This can lead to damage to the tissue and eventual death if left untreated. In lay terms he might have died of a broken heart!"
The walk to the Restlands goes by quickly, aided by your speculations about the professor's cause of death. With the shadow of the prison at your back, there's little to distract you from the matter at hand, and the thick sheet of clouds hanging over your heads only adds to the melancholy of the evening.
The Restlands themselves are well-tended, maintained constantly by the local church of Pharasma. On many of the graves sit small bouquets of flowers and trinkets of remembrance, and on the far northern edge sits a squat building, likely for the clergy's use during their long vigils over the boneyard.
Occupying the main path is a tiny procession led by an attractive, trim woman dressed in the traditional clothes of mourning. As you approach, she turns to you and hurries - but not too quickly - over to speak with you. "You must be my father's associates," she concludes after looking you over. "You match his descriptions of you to the letter. Thank you all for coming; as you can see," at this point waving a hand toward those in attendance, "few elected to join us this evening, but with the state of the town these days..."
She stops short and takes a moment to refocus. "Apologies, friends. Allow me to get to the point: he had a great deal of respect for you, and he requested that you serve as his pallbearers." She glances down at Sabs and adds, "Of course, you are not required to do so, especially if this task does not agree with your... physique."
Before they enter the Restlands Uliana walks over to one of the pharasmin spirals symbols to pay homage to her deity before entering.
As they are greeted by the professor's daugther she looks confused for a moment. "I think we are just a few of many people who knew you father, yet I must confess I have never heard him mention you. He was a great man and it's safe for me to say that I wouldn't be standing here today, it would be my honor to help bear him to rest." She says.