Lament smiles at the good priest. We should probably burn his corpse. That freaky white eye crap doesn't look so good. I don't think the Lady of Graves would want that headless wonder creeping out of the grave to haunt us. At least the real man has passed on to the eternal graveyard! Right? Hey...You could perform the ceremony and I could play my drum?
"Disappearing hooftracks. Clean separation between head and body. Done from horseback... downward motion. Unfortunate that horse can either fly or is insubstantial."
The tiefling stops for a second as if to consider something.
"Maybe wagon pulled up on side of road to carry horse from there. No. No. No wagon tracks. Trail cold. Will have to start new file and eventually catch culprit when able to figure out how to arrest or kill spirits. For now, bury body. Of no more use. Would interview widow. Definite motive. Do not think her capable of force or magic necessary for this murder though."
Vigilance's yellow eyes focus one last time on the body as if to store all of the visual information for later. He then wanders off towards their carriage muttering to himself about pegasi and the local availability there of.
-botting the priest and the ranger. I've left it about 12 hrs-
The priest makes the necessary arrangements with the wife and in due course a burial ceremony is held. It is a very simple affair. The body (and head) are wrapped in a linen shroud and buried in a simple grave - at a crossroad some few miles away.
The coachman makes use of the time to rest and calm the horses and its nearly midday before you finally leave. The horses are little better than nags and you all end up sleeping nervously around a small fire in the cold, the horses having taken you as far as the could for the day.
At first light you are already on the move, and though the pace is slow, manage to make it to Ravensgro at around 10ish in the morning. Apparently Baradlon has visited there before (though his stays were brief and he never got to meet the townsfolk) and he leads you to Lorrimors home.
Kendra greets you herself, sad but glad to see you all. Those who have not met her are quickly introduced and warmly embraced with a smile before she leads you in. Given the local customs regarding the dead and the pre-funeral viewing her house is surprisingly uncrowded. She explains only few locals have stopped by to pay their respects and nearly none have stayed. She leads you into a room where the coffin sits on the table, its lid already nailed shut.
A few people are in the room, talking quietly and snacking - Kendra introduces you all one by one...
Here are the fellow mourners. They are Adivion Adrissant, Benjan Caeller, Embreth Daramid, Father Grimburrow, Madame Ivanja and Nico Garus.
You barely start to mingle when Father Grimburrow leaves, pleading the need to attend to the funeral preparations and not long after finding out your coach just arrived in town, the man Benjan Caeller, Sheriff of the town as it turns out, also makes his excuses and leaves.
Leaving you with Adivion Adrissant, Benjan Caeller, Embreth Daramid and Nico Garus. Kendra sort of flutters around the place, messing with a table already well laden with food... a sign, perhaps, that Kendra catered for far more people than what have shown up to show their respect to the family or even local custom.
You can grab a few sandwiches and snacks and mingle if you wish.
Vigilance
Jaru
Baradlon hadn’t seen Kendra since she was five years old. He reintroduces himself and waits an appropriate amount of time before walking over to the coffin and placing his hand on it. He stands there quietly, staring at nothing. He flashes back over a hundred years to the first time he encountered death. Back in Kyonin, one of his father’s cousins had passed. He remembered viewing the magically preserved body, as the mouners sang a song of passage. The elven rite was graceful and beautiful, accepting death and beautifying it with a calm stoicism. Then his mind flashed forward to the day his parents were taken from him. The moment that always followed him like a shadow. He remembers the headless man that he’d nearly beaten unconscious the day before. Death was not beautiful, it simply was.
He begins to sing a human song he’d heard once in a low quiet voice, “Ooooh, Death...Ooooooh, Death...Won't you spare me over til another year? Well what is this that I can't see, with ice cold hands takin' hold of me?...Well I am death, none can excel, I'll open the door to heaven or hell...Whoa, death someone would pray, could you wait to call me another day?...The children prayed, the preacher preached, time and mercy is out of your reach...I'll fix your feet til you cant walk, I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk. I'll close your eyes so you can't see, this very air, come and go with me...I'm death I come to take the soul, leave the body and leave it cold..To draw the flesh off of the frame, dirt and worm both have a claim...”
His singing is fairly horrible, but he finishes the song unselfconsciously.
.
Your song raises a few eyebrows but nothing is said. Maybe some allowances are being made for your Elven-ness?
Jaru focuses his ministrations on Kendra offering his consolation. He does mention that he is saddened and perplexed that so few have come to honor such a well known and clearly brilliant man like the professor.
Lament walks over next to the elf and smiles. It was a beautiful song...from your heart. That is all that matters. I am sure the professor is quite pleased.
She mingles around with the guests. She stops and talks to the Madame. I was once a varisian pilgrim. Beautiful land. My mother read Harrow cards at caravan stops. How did you know the professor?
Vigilance greets Kendra with a firm handshake. Anything more would be inappropriate in the tiefling's eyes.
The investigator then wanders the room avoiding talking to most of the people just so he can sit back and watch them instead. If any come up to him to introduce themselves, he politely does the same - without pronouns of course - and does his best to bore them out of conversation so that they leave.
Jaru focuses his ministrations on Kendra offering his consolation.
Simeon accepts Kendra's heart-felt embrace willingly but with obvious distress. Muttering his condolences, he makes his was to the table of food and adds some bite-sized morsels to a plate.
Wandering the room he makes some chit-chat with the relative newcomers, avoiding those that are female.
He stops to watch Baradlon sing, his face blank a faint smile at the corner of his mouth An anthem, perhaps, for this dark dark pathe we may have begun to journey?
** spoiler omitted **
After his song, Baradlon goes to make a sandwich and then sits at the edge of the room, eating his ham and cheese and staring at all the locals unblinkingly.
Jaru focuses his ministrations on Kendra offering his consolation. He does mention that he is saddened and perplexed that so few have come to honor such a well known and clearly brilliant man like the professor.
Jaru, you hit ALL the right notes. She gives you a small sad smile, her eyes glisten with tears but she accepts the Professors accolades with a reflected pride of a daughter.
Others note your words and nod appreciatively, echoing your sentiments.
Simeon accepts Kendra's heart-felt embrace willingly but with obvious distress. Muttering his condolences, he makes his was to the table of food and adds some bite-sized morsels to a plate.
Wandering the room he makes some chit-chat with the relative newcomers, avoiding those that are female.
He stops to watch Baradlon sing, his face blank a faint smile at the corner of his mouth An anthem, perhaps, for this dark dark pathe we may have begun to journey?
Your attempt at chit chat is politely received but you strike no chords with the guests - it is merely a pleasant passing of the time.
Lament walks over next to the elf and smiles. It was a beautiful song...from your heart. That is all that matters. I am sure the professor is quite pleased.
She mingles around with the guests. She stops and talks to the Madame. I was once a varisian pilgrim. Beautiful land. My mother read Harrow cards at caravan stops. How did you know the professor?
Madame Ivanja smiles at you Lament but it is not condescending but rather a smile a teacher would give a promising student.
Oh... it was a Professional arrangement you could say, she murmurs quietly.
I am glad that we share a common connection - my Mother performed 'The Harrowing', as do I. These are dark times and guidance is always useful but then again, the times always seem to be dark - so one must find such solace as one can. I read the cards for dear Petros on occassion as well, though little good I think came of it in the end. Our last reading of his path some months ago was... well... , she nods towards the coffin sadly.
You chat for a while, her asking you about your mother and what brings you here. You share your plan to play at his funeral as he had once requested and the story of how and why he asked you.
The other mourners take note of your story, happy to hear a previously unheard story of Lorrimors past.
Before you know it time has worn on, and Kendra gently interrupts Laments story (which had become another story, which had led to yet another story) and calls you all aside.
It is nearly time for the ceremony or so says one of Father Grimburrows acolytes. Would you honour me, and him, in acting as the Pallbearers for his Coffin? We would need the four of you and I don't think Lament here has the height for it... I could ask Nico's help of course but he is old and his aide never knew my Father.
Father Grimburrow and a pair of gravediggers are already waiting at the site of my Father’s burial, they'll not join us for the funeral procession. You'll need to walk through town towards the Restlands and through the burial yard there to the grave.
Jaru bows low, "Sayyidati, it would be an honor."
Baradlon bows so low from the waist that his forehead literally touches flat against his shins. After holding the impossible seeming pose for a couple of seconds he slowly rises and says, "I would have it no other way," to Kendra. "If you need anything, please, let me know. I am here to serve you for the foreseeable future. I owe Petros that much at least."
Lament enjoys her conversation with the Varisian. Maybe we could read together some time? She follows her around as they mingle throughout the room.
Later, she addresses Kendra's offer:
I would be happy to perform an appropriate song during our trip. Lament prepares herself for the procession.
Simeon stammers "It would be my honor to convery Petros to his final rest, K-K-Kendra." , he attempts a bow but overbalances abit and almost falls.
Gathering himself, he waits until the others are ready.
Vigilance nods his assent.
You are proceeded by Lament, beating a slow somber march tattoo on her drum, giving the procession a feeling of solemn formality. Kendra then leaves, alone, to lead the march.
The other guests follow you slowly out of the house.
You are joined by a small crowd outside in the street... though 'crowd' may well be too generous a term. A shopkeep or maybe a tavern keep by the looks of him in his apron, his son or apprentice, a young woman, a fat formally dressed middle aged man who is rolling rapidly towards looking old and another middle aged man who has the look of a well paid scribe but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye - a man who never really grew up you'd guess. Finally a cloaked and hooded mysterious stranger joins the locals.
They fall in with Lorrimors friends and the procession moves slowly through town. The weather is cold, the sky heavily clouded and the day is dark despite it being almost noon. The pale grey light of the sun paints everything in drab dead tones.
What happens is both sad and surprising. Normally what would happen would be the families of the community standing on porches or by the side of the road muttering a kind word or praise for the deceased, and making a sign of Pharasma as well as making some showing of respect. A doffed hat or a bowed head for instance.
What you see instead is an absence of people - curtains are pulled aside revealing faces watching from inside their houses and of the few people who do come outside, most of them make signs against evil rather than show any sign of respect.
Kendra does her best to keep her chin up but from behind you cannot see how it may be affecting her. Definitely there is a halt in her step with every supernatural ward made.
From funerary custom nothing should be said by those in the procession and any words you would say would only dishonour your fallen friend.
The heavy casket digs into Jaru's shoulder and it is all he can do to keep it steady on his end. Glimpses of what is occurring along the route sadden him, though it does not surprise him based on what he's seen of the ignorant, superstitious people of this land so far.
Occasionally grunting from the effort to hold up his corner of the casket, Simeon at first merely concentrates on placing one foot infront of the other.
Slowly however, he notices the absence of the traditional community participation. Glancing up through a lock of his lank hair, he sees the cowering villagers , then the warding gestures.
The more he sees, the angrier he becomes, seething at the injustice. "These simple minded dolts, how dare they disrespect Petros like this? His greatness was there for all to see."
He is however self-aware enough to contain his ire within his mind....for now.
Baradlon walks in a zombie like daze, while holding the coffin. He's oblivious to the people making warding gestures towards them, or maybe he's just used to be warded against as he passes. He is lost in memories of his friend, and barely present in the world of now. The elf allows his body to act automatically, carrying the box along with the others.
Lament plays her mournful beat then begins singing an old Pharasmic burial spiritual.
"To the gates our friend doth come
Lady of the Graves will be the one
To welcome him in and prepare a place
For his weary soul to have the grace
To roam among his former friends
In Celestial realms a new life transcends
The darkness of this day now gone
Celebrate in mournful song
Until the day his loved ones gather
Until the day
Until the day."
She is lost in song for most of the procession. Enjoying her memories of the professor.
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The procession leaves town and enters into an impressively large burial ground called The Restlands. As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, you see that the way ahead is blocked by a group of a surly looking locals, a dozen or so. The tallest of these toughs is an elderly but still burly retired soldier type. He looks like he has an old army buddy or two with him as well.
The old warrior speaks, his voice raspy and harsh from years of cheap liquor and cheaper tobacco.
That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!
That seems to be the straw that breaks the donkeys back. This is the worst of all insults and borders on blasphemy.
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into anger. What are you talking about? she cries out. I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already been...
He cuts her off.
You don’t get it, woman, he says with a snarl.
"YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR!" the tall priest bellows as he balances the casket. "This man will receive the proper burial rites in a properly consecrated burial ground. Whatever your fears or grudge, they matter not to me or the Lady of Graves. Stand aside and just remember that all is seen from Her lofty spire and all who live must face Her judgement." The tired priest stands as tall as he can under his load, his righteous outrage giving him strength.
Baradlon looks to the others and motions for them to set down the coffin. His eyes narrow as he turns back to the unruly mob of hicks.
The peasants start muttering. They know in their hearts that they are part of something very very wrong.
The leader barks at them to stand fast, bristling with rage...
You think you are on the verge of dispersing the towns folk - the right word could do it. Truth be told, even the 'heavies' accompanying the mob look uncertain.
Seething, Simeon nods to himself at Jaru's words Ah well done, play upon the peasant's superstitious dread of judgement
He calls out angrily "Do not be led astray by this angry man. Whatever quarrel he had with the Professor in life is of no matter now."
Diplomacy, Aid Another
Lament stops playing her drum. She walks forward a bit. Easy Baradlon. Gentlemen...The holy priest is right. It would be very bad juju for you to disrupt a Pharasmic burial ceremony. The Lady of graves looks on and an interruption of her task would be a bad omen. We have two priests of Pharasma in attendance. You all could probably even receive a blessing this day should you allow us to pass!
Feck this Gibbs, it be wrong, one of the farmers mutters in the silence, and we'ed all knows it.
There is chatter from the rest of them, all of the farm hands and fishermen that made up the bulk of the mob, agreeing with the speaker.
Gibbs turns to glare at them but none will meet his eyes. They lower their makeshift weapons and file down around you, past the coffin, bowing their heads in shame and making the customary sign of Pharasma as they do so. One even goes as far as to mutter Sorry fer yer loss Miss as he shuffles past.
Soon all that is left is the man called Gibbs and his two 'friends' but even they look like the fight has gone out of them.
This ain't finished! Not by a long shot it ain't!, the aging thug declares in a threatening manner before stalking off away from the procession, his cronies following in his wake.
Kendra thanks Jaru and you all profusely, apologising for the assault. The two middle aged local men in the funeral procession, apparently members of the Town Council, profess shock at the attack and murmur that they recognized the thugs as “local workhands, all of low character.”
The incident 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, with Lament playing a slow percussive dirge.
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 just as a gentle rain starts to fall.
.
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Baradlon makes his way slowly to the front of the group. He looks at everyone solemnly for several long seconds before beginning. "Petros Lorrimor was a giant among humans. He was caring enough to take me in when I was orphaned. Caring enough to become my brother. He knew more things about evil and how to fight it than many elves I've met who outlived him by hundreds of years. I can't say how many innocents have been protected by efforts, but the number is not few. He was loved. He will be missed. I will carry on his efforts until I too die."
Baradlon's eulogy is delivered frankly. It's like someone is reading a list of facts, with little emotional investment in their tone. When he's finished he bows low towards the open grave, and holds the position for several seconds. When he stands back up a single tear leaks from his right eye. Baradlon moves away, yielding the floor to anyone else who has words to say.
The tiny halfling steps forward looking much like a child in a Halloween costume. She removes her hat and places it on her chest, then crosses her arms over it. Head bowed in reverence, she begins.
"The professor was my only true friend...I still remember when we met. I was Harrowing on the streets of Caliphas and he introduced himself. He paid me double for the reading. It was a time when I was unsure how I would be able to pay for my room at the Thirsty Turtle. I never forgot that. It was as if he knew I needed a hand. That is the professor...he always offered a helping hand."
Lament looks up and begins looking each attendee in the eye. A lone tear slides down her gaunt cheek and drops off of her chin. "From then on, he would have me visit him at his home from time to time. He would pay my travel expenses and put me up in one of his luxurious rooms. Once again, he would pay me more than was fair. I would offer to take less, but he would have no part of it. We would spend hours talking, he in his fine chair and me sitting at his feet in front of the fireplace. We discussed all kinds of subjects. One of his favorites was undeath. He was intrigued with my encounter with vampires. I think he just wanted to keep us all safe."
She straightens up. "And now we honor this fine man who blessed so many of us. The Lady will surely see that he find his new home. We carry on with great memories of our time here with him. Kendra...you should be proud of your father."
Lament steps back and bows her head. She stands quietly allowing others to share their stories.
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Diplomacy
Simeon waits his turn patiently, his anger having subsided once the villagers had listened to reason.
He gazes up at the grey clouds then nods "It is an appropriate day to say farwell to our friend Petros, for he was a good man who dared look into the darkness and those areas in between light and dark. " Simeon pauses for a moment , reflecting "I first met Petros when I was an undergraduate, asking all of the uncomfortable questions the faculty would not answer. He arrived to give a lecture and when I stood to pose my questions, lo and behold, he had the courage to answer them! This started a professional and brothery relationship that has ended too soon. Petros was the bravest man I ever knew, asking the questions that no one else would and never shirking from the answers they brought forth, the truth was often more important than the man's safety. I can only wish I was half the man he was." Simeon trails off, then raises his head and looks at each of Petros' friends and daughter "We knew a great man and have gathered to do him honour, let us continue our lives as he would have, were he with us still!"
Finished, Simeon walks calmly back to his place and stares at the ground.
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The fatigue and strain of his long journey and the past few days begin to show as Jaru does not deliver his best eulogy.
"I did not know the professor long nor can I say that I knew him well, but I am glad that we were fated to meet. We met at a difficult time in my life. I had just suffered an extreme tragedy and talking to the professor...helped me heal and recover. Working with him helped me refocus and move on. I am forever in his debt for that."
Jaru pauses to collect himself and then finds comfort in the traditions of his faith. "Pharasma awaits you in the Boneyard. Make your way swiftly and be judged. Do not look back, but be satisfied in your fate." He ends by making the sign of Pharasma over the coffin.
[dice=Perform Oratory]1d20+7+2
The rain starts to come down with increasing heaviness as Lament finishes her stories but she has the other townsfolk nodding as well.
Kendra waits a moment for others to speak their piece. The mysterious hooded figure shifts as if to come forward to speak but is interrupted by the one who was introduced to you as Adivion Adrissant steps forward and takes Kendra's hand for a moment and then turns to you all.
Petros was a great fish in the intellectual ponds he swum in and it is saddening to me to see him laid low here today. I shall miss him and his passionate dialectic, his delightfully idealistic mindset that was unburdened by the nuances imposed by this all too cruel world. I shall miss our, sadly, all too rare discourses. He was in many ways he was a 'Father' to me and 'Teacher' also, until our relationship outgrew that definition to take on other meanings, he pauses to look at Kendra fondly again.
And as his 'son', I feel comfortable in saying that he'd never abide by us all standing here in the rain.
I'll catch my death of cold at this rate, he adds in a wickedly accurate caricature of the late Professor that raises a few chuckles.
Friends, lets repair to Petr... I mean to say Kendra's home, and raise a glass in his honour.
Kendra nods without emotion, the days events clearly catching up with her, and with that Father Grimburrow gives the final benediction and you head back to the house.
* * *
A toast is poured and drunk to your friend but within short order the mourners make excuses and withdraw, each taking a private moment or two with Petros Lorrimor's daughter before leaving - all claiming the worsening weather and pressing personal or professional needs for their rushed departures. The few locals depart as well, though with Vashian Hearthmount promising a return at nightfall.
Soon all that is left is you and Kendra.
Please, do not leave - I've not known you long but if you could stay overnight it would mean the world to me, she says.
Besides, we shouldn't waste any of this food - a lot of it purchased, it is true, but a lot also made with my own hands.
"As I said before, Kendra, I am here for whatever you need for as long as you need," Baradlon replies to Kendra. He partakes hungrily of the food. "You don't happen to have anything to drink do you?"