"Magic cannot fix everything, I'm afraid," the priest admits grimly. "Solely I among the clergy have the ability to ward the departed from such a fate, and even then only for a week. There are greater rituals that might be performed, but making them last is difficult, requiring greater power than our temple possesses. And even if we had such means, we generally don't have necromancers plaguing our burial sites - the one relief to be found in all this, small as it may be, is that these occurrences are certainly the exception to the rule of our norm." He sighs as he turns to gaze out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "As for what's responsible, I wish I could say I suspected a necromancer, but the Sheriff and I took the liberty of inspecting the graves. It would be feasible, however monstrous it might be to consider, that someone crafted these bodies and planted them in the earth as an ambush..."
"But," Caeller interjects. "Them graves were old, and what dirt hadn't been clawed through was packed and solid as an orcish mud-hut. No signs of recent digging, least not before them skeletons clawed their way free."
And that means they couldn't have been planted there," Grimburrow continues. "They had to have been animated from within their coffins, and necromancers usually need direct access to the bodies they intend to defile This is beyond the capability of any simple spell I've ever encountered." For the first time, you see the priest's composure falter as he begins to fidget nervously. "A concentration, or a burst, of negative energy might accomplish such a travesty, though I'm not certain what might trigger such a phenomenon. One tends to see this sort of thing in hauntings - places where great tragedies have occurred in the past, and powerful emotions have flared. Large battlefields, ancient mansions, evil temples -,"
"Or Harrowstone." Father Grimburrow simply nods at Caeller's interuptions.
"Yes, Harrowstone too. Such an event could leave the necessary traces of evil for this sort of thing, but why now, after fifty years? Except for that question, Harrowstone would seem the most likely, but there are other explanations. Large cults might accomplish such things with elaborate rituals, and the presence of powerful undead in an area have been known to give rise to such fell births."
"Harrowstone," grunts Caeller as he looks to you, seemingly for confirmation.
"I must confess that I know little of Harrowstone," Ember says. "Is there someplace that might have information about it, or people that know it's story well, so I may learn what manner of evil may emminate from there?"
Valachi grunts, "Lorrimor met his doom in Harrowstone. I'd wager he suspected something was going on there, and whatever he found killed him for finding it."
As we suspected from before, the prison must hold a key to this mystery.
partially destroyed by a fire in 4661, the building has
stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s
haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
was founded at the same time as a place where guards and
their families could live and that would produce food and
other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all
of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large
portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but
left most of the stone structure above relatively intact.
The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his
wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison
when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the
warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in
the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on
the riverbank just outside of town.
to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for
it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that
era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was,
in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted
and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately
prior to the conf lagration. It was only through the selfsacrifice
of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that
the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards
gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.
particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at
the prison. While the commonly held belief is that the
tragic fire began accidentally after the riot began, in fact
the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon
and had been in command of the lower level for several
hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a
deadfall to seal the rioting prisoners in the lower level,
but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen
guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping
when the panicked guards accidentally started the fire in
a desperate attempt to end the riot.
"S'an old building that burned down a while back... took the warden with it too. People say s'haunted. I was meaning to go there anyways, so... I'm in."
Delia hesitates before offering, "Before heading into the ruins we should go over what we have at our disposal. If this place is haunted, or even has the living dead that we've encountered recently, I've made some discoveries about what we've found. Namely the arrows and the divination board. The arrows, about half of them, are specifically tailored to harm the undead. The board though is not magical, the true item of power is the small bronze planchette. It can be used to converse with the unliving spirits. Those that have passed beyond. Maybe we could use it to try and reach those brave few that died in the fire, the warden or his wife, or possibly.... the Professor himself." She casts a glance at Kendra at this last suggestion, upset at herself for even bringing it up. "Let's not forget we also have the vials of green mists I figured out before, which can be used to reclaim haunted items from the spirits controlling them."
"Hmm, so if the bodies were not planted we would need to challenge the assumption that they were left for us as well. Could it have been coincidence? Or that the bodies below were just waiting for enough people to gather above them to make it worth springing their attack? I suppose it may not matter, but if it was random, it may happen again. Father, will the restlands be watched after this? In case such creatures emerge again?"
"Harrowstone. From the moment we came here and learned more of the circumstances of Professor Lorrimor's death, I have been convinced there was more at work here. I do not blame anyone for being skeptical, but it seems that now time has born our suspicions out. The professor's death was far to random, to convenient to be accepted as it was. As we told the both of you before, the Professor was convinced that Necromancers had been here in this village, and that they wanted something to do with Harrowstone. As soon as we learned that, it seemed clear that our friend had been murdered. His last notes indicate he was going to the ruins to try and catch the vile magi at their work, and disrupt them. He must have been discovered and killed."
Zhan shakes his head sadly.
"When these undead appeared it seemed a logical conclusion that they were behind it. They may still be, but perhaps in a different way. If they wanted something at Harrowstone, maybe they did something, or removed something that was holding the spirits at bay. The people here have long held that the ruins were haunted, but if they truly were, why has no haunting occurred within town? As close as it is to the place, you would expect something to have happened over the last 50 years, and yet... nothing. Until now."
"Sheriff Caeller, I know you have been resistant to having us explore the ruins on account of people's suspicions of the place, or lest we stir something up and bring reprisal on you and yours. However, it now appears that thing are stirred up regardless. May I take it we are now being given your blessing to track these strange signs back to their source, and investigate the ruins?"
Caeller gives a nod and a huff as he fidgets with the brim of his hat.
"Aye. We need to find out exactly what's been going on up there. I'm generally open to the chance of a coincidence or two, but the death of Ol' Lorrimer, these strange happenings, and now rumors of a cult of necromancers is too much to ignore. Go up there and do what you have to, s'long as you don't stir up anything new. I'll set my deputies on double patrols, and keep an eye on Miss Lorimmer myself."
"I must preside over Petros's interment on the morning," Grimburrow adds, "But as soon as the service is done, please stop by the temple and I can allow you to draw a few items from our stores in preparations for your expedition."
Agnar listens for a moment before saying "Delia I think it is best to leave the dead alone or we are very prepared to speak with them."
Valachi appears uncomfortable at the mention of the spirit board, but remains silent.
The dead are already restless here. They may have useful stories to tell, but is it worth the risk?
"If I am not a burden to you, I would also wish to help. Dealing with restless ghosts is part of my duty."
Val smiles as Ember's healing magic clears away the burned and scarred flesh, leaving behind pink but healthy skin.
"Thank you," he says sincerely, nodding his head in respect.
"Delia, I am of two minds about the board. Contacting the spirits can be useful, but can come with many dangers as well. Not all spirits are always helpful either. We have no way of knowing whether any spirit we bring forth will be helpful, or knowledgeable about our interests. There is also the danger that we might reach something malevolent. There appears to be no shortage of dark beings haunting these lands of late. However, the knowledge that can be gleaned may be useful indeed. If we reach something that knows the ruins, we might go in better forewarned. If you wish to use this device, I will aid you. We should take precautions of course, and have someone capable of dealing with spirits, such as Sister Ember, and perhaps someone able to restrain us in the case of possession. Valachi, I think. Would you two be willing to help?"
Father Grimburrow steps forward and eyes Delia and Zhan carefully.
"This was amongst the items hidden within the depository in the restlands, yes? I am surprised that such an item was included with the other tools more common to the trade of dealing with the undead. Those tasked with serving the Mistress of Grave are charged with maintaining the boundaries between the living and dead, and such devices can challenge that. However, as we must often endeavor to find roaming spirits and help put them to rest, we have been known to use such tools on occasion."
"A Spirit Planchette can indeed be a useful tool, but Zhan is correct about the risks. I would advise the strictest caution if you choose to use it. A person using it can fall under the sway of the spirit with whom he meant to commune. You should be wary, and prepare yourself for such an eventuality. If you treat the process with respect, you should be fine. Sister Volkin, I will allow you your own discretion in this."
The older man rises from his seat and gathers up his cloak, making ready to leave. He receives his hat from Sheriff Caeller, from where he standing quietly in the living room. The sheriff dons his own hat, a wide brimmed affair, and then opens the front door.
Father Grimburrow turns back before leaving, "Remember, come to the temple following the internment, and I will draw some items from the temple's stores to aid you. Sister Volkin, it is good to see you again. I would like to meet with you privately before you go, if you would indulge me. In the morning perhaps? Good night, you all."
"Goodnight Father. I will see you in the morning, as you wish."
Ember curtsies to the Father and Sheriff as they leave.
Agnar nods as Father Grimburrow leaves. He than goes off to rest and think on the day's events.
Delia gasps at the possibilities, "Possession, oh dear, I was not aware of the dangers of using the board. I am not well versed in the realm of that line between life and death. To this I will bow to the expertise of Zhan and Father Grimburrow." She replies "We are already dealing with the hideousness of the undead, i do not wish to invite them any further."
The evening passes without further incident, a somber mood in the air seeming to keep conversation in the house to a minimum. After a quiet dinner, each of the guests seems to drift apart from the others, looking for quiet places to think, and wrestle with the troubles and revelations this day had brought.
Zhan asks for help from whoever is willing, and takes shovels and tools to the back grounds to dig the grave in the chosen place. "This should be done by people who respected him; not by the likes of the one called Gibs. I think you'd agree this is best done ourselves rather than calling him here..."
Kendra, as usual, strives to keep a brave face, and spends the remainder of the evening in the common areas of the house; the living room, the library, the kitchen; making polite conversation when necessary, and spending the rest of her time in research. She seems drawn back to the books left in the party's care by her late father. She spends some time looking at the locked book, the one bound in purple and fixed with a scarab, that even Kirill seemed unable to bypass. She turns it over a few times in her hands before returning it the heavy chest containing the other forbidden texts being studied by her father.
At length, she retires, as does the rest of the party, one by one.
The morning comes silently, cool and grey, with a light fog drifting in through those windows left open. Kendra rises early, dressed for mourning in a dress of black lace. She remains quiet and introspective as the rest of the party rises and assembles in the common rooms.
Adivian Adrissant, as well as those staying with him at the inn, arrive early, before dawn is fully on the air. Adivian is dressed in dark clothes; respectful, but still finely made and well tailored to his frame.
By the time most have finished breaking fast, a soft knock is heard at the door, and Father Grimburrow makes his way in. He shakes the dew from a worn and somewhat floppy wide-brimmed hat, and then hangs his cloak on the stand by the door.
He greets the party, each by name, and talks for a short time with those who wish it.
When the time is right, Father Grimburrow asks a few volunteers to bring in a new casket which lies under a tarp in a wagon drawn out front. When this is complete he asks for the body to be brought up from where it lies in the cellar. He once again puts on his hat and cloak, and leads the procession out to the back yard. Once again he leads those assembled in a short sermon, briefer than the one given at the Professor's first internment. The only change this time is that he takes time with his blessings, placing a hand on Petro's chest as he recites the blessings of Pharasma.
When he steps back, he lowers the lid of the casket again, to spare those gathered the sight of the man's ruined face, "I know that most of you here have already had the chance to speak your words of fair well to this fallen friend, but if anyone has words to add, please do so now."
Kirill quietly aids in digging grave, the irony of putting something into the ground, even if that something was a good friend, not lost on the grave-robber. Annoyance briefly flashing through his mind at the mention of that man-Gibs!, but he forces the negativity out and focuses on the task at hand.
The following morning, with the Father arrives, the Varisian for once doesn't feel much like talking. He slept little the night before, stringing and unstringing his hunting nervously, as he often does on sleepless nights; a coil of discomfort and ill-ease tying itself into a knot in his stomache. He'd had a little experience with undead in his travels, but there is something different about the deceased when it is someone you know, or rather, knew.
When it comes time for the assembled to pay their final respects to the professor (again) Kirill patiently waits, thinking of what sign of respect he could show (this Varisian was never truly the "respectful" sort, but a handful of people earned better of him). Once the others have all had their say he moves forward and places his palms upon the casket gently. He carefully slids open the lip just the thinnest of cracks, shieling his actions from view with this body as best he can and slips in a single silver coin. For once he was putting money in the ground, parting with his coin for no personal gain was the strongest sign of respect he could muster. Then he whispers under his breath with an extremely forced mirth.
He pats the lid to the casket, nods grimly then backs away, eager to get on with the Harrowstone business.
When Father Grimburrow greets Valachi personally, Val nods in thanks, but remains silent. He appears uncomfortable throughout the entire process of the ceremony, looking around nervously like an animal checking escape routes in case of the need to flee. To the end, though, Val holds his ground and remains respectful.
When called forward to add to the eulogy, Valachi steps up to the grave and sighs. "I have no tongue for pretty words, and no...", he stops, sighing again. "I thank you, Lorrimor, for bringing light into the dark of my life, when no one else cared to, including me. I will see that light carried on to find the truth of your murder." Finished, he nods and steps back, glancing at Kendra, as if for approval.
The night before, Delia has Father go and help with the digging, as hse prepares all the ingredients she will need for a hearty breakfast for everyone in the morning. With them finally able to investigate the prison ruins, everyone will need their strength.
During the ceremony she does her best, once again, to be comforting to Kendra, giving her a shoulder to lean on. As everyone does their thing, she merely watches in silence, feeling that she can't add anymore to her feelings on the subject than she did at the first burial.
Kendra steps forwards quietly, the mist clinging to the delicate lace, collecting in places, the small drops gathering light and making it appear as though she is dressed in jewels.
"Thank you friends, for again helping lay my father to rest. He..." her voice cracks and wavers, "He would be grateful to all of you."
With that she step back toward Delia and Zhan, leaning into them and sobbing quietly.
At this point, Adivion Adrissant steps forward boldly, and circles round the casket. He casts a lingering, dramatic gaze at each of those gathered before speaking.
"Friends, colleagues, *pause*, family... of the dearly departed. We gather here to say farewell to this man, Petros Lorrimor, professor, teacher, friend, father, colleague, and rival, he was a great man, and one obviously worthy of respect. Although he and I may have had some differences in life, I always held him in the greatest respect. While our opinions differed in many respects, he was always a man I could count on to bring forth an honest opinion on any intellectual puzzle we might discuss, and he was never a man to let propriety get in the way of what he viewed as the truth. He was an unrelenting man, gifted and driven. Throughout the years I knew him, there was never another who could bring forth his depth of knowledge, or passion to any issue. Where others would falter, or hold their tongue, he always spoke freely. It is a fault of academia at times that we fear to challenge those we hold to be more knowledgeable than ourselves, treating them as living repositories of knowledge. Petros had no such fear, and was able to ask questions that others would not. Such questions can serve to drive us is search of better answers. I will miss having such a foil, and be continually saddened knowing that he is no longer with us. Miss Lorrimor, you have every condolence for your loss."
Adivion steps back solumnly, looking as though he had just addressed a crowd instead of the small assembly gathered.
Father Grimburrow gives a few more minutes for anyone else who wishes to say any words, and then indicates that it is time for the casket to be lowered into the ground. After it touches bottom, and the ropes are withdrawn, Kendra takes up a handful of black earth, and gently pours it out of her hand atop it.
Kendra whispers, "Goodbye father, again...
Kendra leaves the yard, drawing Delia back with her, linked arm in arm. Adivion follows them into the house. Those who remain are left to refill the earth in atop the coffin.
When completed, Father Grimburrow recites one last prayer, and then he too retires into the house. As he is readying himself to leave, there is an urgent knock at the door. When opened, Riff, the Sheriff's deputy is standing there, apparently breathing hard.
Riff takes a moment to catch his breath, then says, "Father! Benjan said I'd find you here. He wants you to come quick, it's happened again!
Father Grimburrow spins, gives everyone a meaningful glance, and darts out the door, following the deputy.
Ember finds a few words to quietly say at the graveside.
"hank you for all you have done for me, for giving me the life I now have..." She pauses, choked with grief. "I can nevr repay you..."
"What has happened again?"
Kendra gives you a blank look and a shrug, but then dashes up to the door and begins to throw on her cloak and to buckle her boots.
As the ceremony winds down and we return to the house, Valachi makes an awkward attempt to speak with Kendra directly, but fails after a couple stuttering starts. As Riff appears and things get hectic, he sighs and gives up.
He will stay with Kendra as she prepares, and then stay with her (assuming she is planning to follow the priest).
"..Eh?! What's happened?!"
Carol looks over at Riff with an eyebrow quirked up.
Agnar turns to Carol "Might be that blood writing."
By the time Kendra and those with her have donned their boots and outdoor cloaks again, Father Grimburrow and Riff have disappeared down the road, headed south, away from the town square. The Lorrimor home lies towards the south end of the town, and not much sits south of there; one of the Posting Holes, a local bulletin board listing things of local interest, Councilwoman Mirta Straelock's home, Gibs Hephenus' shack, the Harrowstone Memorial down on the riverbank, and of course, Harrowstone itself, a quarter mile south on a hill overlooking the town.
The light grey haze and fog has given way to a misting rain, and the air has a cold wet bite to it. The wagon Father Grimburrow used to bring the new casket still lies where it was outside the Lorrimor home, it's somber mule team looking wet and bedraggled.
Kendra races to catch up to the Priest, as those companions who have come with her keep pace. Up ahead, Riff and Father Grimburrow stride right past the Posting Hole and onto the path leading to the monument. Kendra catches them before they are far down the path.
"What has happened again? Riff? Father? Kendra asks.
Father Grimburrow's thick white eyebrows knit as he eyes the young lady. "The letters," he responds, "Apparently, Nicca, Councilman Hearthmount's youngest daughter, came down with one of the farm hands for a 'walk.' That's when they discovered the new letter. It seems as well that the news of yesterday's events at the restlands have gotten about, and are creating quite a stir."
As the party continues down the path, a large crowd comes into view. It seems like a third of the town are already here. Benjan Caeller, the town sheriff, as well as councilman Hearthmount and councilwoman Straelock stand at the center of the crowd, next to the monument itself. Mirta Straelock is a very handsome woman not yet approaching middle age. She wears a finely cut dress with a deep neckline, and carries an oiled parasol to keep off the rain. Vasian Hearthmount is impeccably dressed as always, and a serving man stands beside him holding his own parasol in a vain attempt to keep the rain off his ample frame.
Upon the monument itself, the dark letter "V" is still visible from where it was painted the night before last. Now however, a darkly stained letter "E" sits next to it, painted in the same dark red substance. The light rain has caused the blood to run some little bit, but it is still clearly legible.
Delia hurries to don her cloak as she takes after the rushing Mistress Lorrimor. Father, however, doesn't stop to even bother and grab a cloak, unconcerned with such when not directed by Delia to do so.
Delia wonders what would cause Kendra's reaction, when she realizes herself what was implied with the term, which also causes her own cheeks to flush.
Seeing the additional letter, Delia scowls and turns to the others, hissing in a whispered tone. "I told you last time, it has something to do with those in the prison. It is here on the monument to the fallen, and only two notable personages have names that begin the letter 'V'. Now that their is a second one, it narrows it down. The first was Vance Saetressle, a criminal known as 'The Lopper'. As I mentioned before, though, the warden's wife Vesorianna, also started with a 'V', and now the second letter leads me to think it is her. I think she may be trying to make contact."
She ponders briefly, suggesting "Maybe when we are investigating the prison, we can use the board there to try and reach her directly. It's possible there is something she wants to tell us."
Valachi listens to Delia's suggestion, and nods grimly in agreement. "If this is some kind of spirit warning us, what you say makes sense."
( ) Val raises an eyebrow, looks between Kendra and the father a couple times, then the penny drops. With a supressed chuckle, he shakes his head and tries not to smile.
To Kendra and the group, he adds, "We should waste no more time; let us gather our things and head to Harrowstone while the day is bright." He turns to Kendra, suddenly reticent. "Miss Lorrimor, will... will you join us to the prison?"
Agnar listens careful as the others speak about the prison he than turns to Valachi "If this Harrowstone is half as dangerous as people keep making it seem, I think it would be best if Kendra stayed here."
Agnar listens careful as the others speak about the prison he than turns to Valachi "If this Harrowstone is half as dangerous as people keep making it seem, I think it would be best if Kendra stayed here."
"Perhaps, but her home has not exactly been a safehouse either, recently. I'd like to give her the option. She has a lot of Lorrimor's knowledge, which will be of great help, I think. Besides, I'm sure she would like to know the fate of her father as much as we do."
With a shrug, he turns back to Kendra. "Ultimately, its your choice. If the way is dangerous, I will do my best to protect you."
... and you shouldn't be alone. Not now. I have been that alone before, most of my life. The loneliness and despair can consume you.
Zhan resumes a stern look as he says, "We have had this conversation before, Miss, and my advice is still the same. This is not likely to be an easy or light-hearted affair. However, the decision on whether to come is up to you."
Kendra looks back at Zhan, and at Agnar and Valachi. "This was my father's affair, and it is now mine. As long as I have a say, I am coming with you."
After a few minutes Benjan Caeller walks over the the group and says, "The city council members are getting rather interested in this whole affair. They are asking if they might be able to meet with you at Councilwoman Straelock's manor at noon."
Delia assumes her usual crossed arms and furrowed brow when she doesn't like what's going on, but she has had the argument before, and she knew that Kendra was just as stubborn as she was.
At the sheriff's request, she offers "Well, I think it would be worth it to see what they may have to say of the situation, but I hope it will not run late into the evening as it would only delay our investigation of the ruins."
Agnar shakes his head after Kendra speak than looks to the Sheriff as he speaks. He wonders why they would like to see all of them but shrugs.
"Worry yourself not, Delia," Kirill gave a half-hearted smile, "Even if a meeting runs long, which I honestly hope it does not- I'm not known for my patience- the shroud of night will favor us in our advance during our investigations. All the better to hide from cultists and whatnot which may have taken up residence in the ruins. Aside from that, if the council is as serious in their inquiries into recent matters as we, we may just have commission fall into our laps, and I'll not object to being paid for what I intend to do anyway. I must say though, that while your reasoning is sound, I don't see enough hard evidence linking the blood on the monument to either spirits nor Harrowstone. In the experience that I may or may not have, the...deceased-" (Kirill paused and lowered his tone to try to avoid reminding Miss Kendra of recent events)"-are rather more direct in their approach. I still find it much more likely that someone uncouth person is having a laugh at everyones' expense by exploited fears and superstitions. Harrowstone is more of a priority to me than random acts of vandalism."
Valachi grimaces, "Kirill, I thought the same until I saw my own name etched on a gravestone in the Restlands, right after immolated skeletons tried to kill us. The writing fades before anyone could closely read it." He shakes his head.
"It seemed the locals are taking this all rather seriously. Perhaps we can delay to meet this person, but I agree that we dare not waste more time." He ponders a moment, then adds, "... and what if they want us to get to the prison later?"
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Val scoffs his own thought. "This place is making me paranoid."
As the group is conferring, Adivion Adrissant steps up to the group. No one recalls seeing him amongst the crowd a moment ago, but then, here he is. In his hand he holds a gentleman's cane with a crystalline head-piece, with which he gestures as he talks.
"Friends, it appears the locals are quite taken with this talk of haunting. It was all I could hear about at the inn last night. I had hoped to hear a bit of music, perhaps some of the local minstrels, but alas, no. The mood was so somber the only enjoyment I could find was in a glass of ice wine brought down from the North. The innkeeper keeps a few surprising finds amongst the more common vintages in his wine cellar. But of course, I digress."
"I take it you still intend to investigate the ruins of this old prison hmm? As well you should; a good bit of adventure does a young person good. I would be surprised if there is anything to the rumours in truth, but then, rumours usually start somewhere, now don't they?
"I hope you don't mind, but I noticed that you seem poorly equipped for an exploration of this type. The good lady Lorrimor has none of the gear a bold party might need to explore potentially dangerous ruins. None of you seem to be packing ropes or lanterns or any such things amongst your belongings, nor do you appear to have the means to obtain them. Even your weapons appear to be of common manufacture. Sister Ember and the young Archaeologist appear at least to have decent accouterments, and perhaps that fellow Zhan... I would like to take a closer look at that device of his at some point... But of course, my point: I have made arrangements with Jorfa for the four of you at the Renvengo Forge." He indicates Delia, Valachi, Agnar, and Kirill with a gesture. "She has been instructed to supply each of you with a weapon or modest armour of superior manufacture, at my expense. In addition, a credit of 100 gold pieces has been laid down for all of you at the General Store." This time he indicates everyone.
"I also have a small gift of trifling value, but great utility:" He reaches into his robe and pulls out a small pouch. "You may be familiar with Ioun stones. They are enchanted stones that provide some measure of protection to the owner, depending on the colour of the stone. While active, they circle about the head. Once burned out, they lose their colour and protective properties, but by a quirk of magic, retain their way of circling about you head. Interesting, but not particularly useful. However, a little "Light" enchantment, and they become a completely hand's free torch. Very useful. The enchantment is permanent and the light will never fade, just remember to take it down from its orbit if you are trying to remain unseen. Do not concern yourselves over any of these expenses. If a colleague like Petros Lorrimor did in fact meet some unnatural end at Harrowstone, his fraternity owes it to him find out for sure. If you were by chance to discover the identity of the one responsible, there could be a substantial reward."
"Now please remember, blunt weapons for skeletons, blades for zombies, and only magic will harm ghosts, if in fact there are any. Ember child, I suggest you prepare a casting or two of Magic Weapon. Now, off with you, pick out your devices and purchase what you need for your outing. Best of luck!"
With that, he twirls his walking stick a few times and heads off towards the town square.
As the man speaks Kirill becomes painfully aware of how useless the slender stiletto knife he kept hidden up his sleeve, pressed against his forearm would be if confronted by a foe in close quarters combat. He preferred to fight his battles from range with his hunters bow, flittering in and out of cover, though he did have some basic training with melee weapons. He could use a cudgel well enough, as well as anyone else at least, but he could find a blunt stick anywhere to battle skeletons. He was proficient in the ways of a rapier as well (but could never afford one in good repair), though against the shambling dead it would be as useless as trying to battle a hunting cat with a letter opener. Perhaps a farmer's sickle, he mused briefly, and I could do with a few blunted arrows, I suppose.
The iuon stone was interesting, though the Varisian graverobber was unsure of how practical it would be to light himself up from long off, but a thieves' lantern, What did they call it in these lands...? Bull's eye light, that's the one!, a bull's eye lantern hanging from his belt would make a fine choice.
Mundane "adventuring" supplies he had. Rope, grappling hook, torches, crowbar; everything you would need to plunder an ancient tomb/save a fair town from a rampaging dragon. However he could always round out his already hefty pack. He had been thinking of picking up a pack of tindertwigs and a few spare smokesticks to augment those he already owned for a vanishing trick he'd been working on, and some alchemcial weaponry couldn't hurt to round out his arsenal verses foes who lacked certain vital bits; plus a vial of potent alchemical acid had its many uses in a crypt or similar location.
Ticking off all of his potential purchases on someone else's coin his eyes flashed over to the group, laying bare what was first and foremost in his mind: "So do you gents and ladies think that was 100 gold in credit a head or total?" He hissed in an excited, mock whisper.