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Prelude – Arrival
You have been worried during your whole travel to Ravengro. What did happen to Professor Petros Lorrimor. He had been in perfect health the last time you had met him. Was it a desease, an accident – or something worse that had claimed his life.
You haven’t been able to pass aside the feeling of ill omens throughout your journey. The dead black cat – still warm and bleeding – seemingly crushed by a traveling cart. A cart you never noticed passing you on your way.
The dead rotting corpse swinging on the largest brach of an oak at a crossroad. It had looked so tiny. Was it a halfling – hanged for some crimes. Or was it a human kid – victim of a crime itself. The stench and the circling crows had driven you on.
And now the rain. It is dark, cold and miserable anyway. Why does it have to rain to make it even worse? And the clouds – taking away the little bit of light that the growing moon is giving you. For a moment you feel better. A rare break in the cloud opens up. The rays of the moon shine unfiltered on the road ahead. But this rare moment of joy gets crushed quickly. A look up to the hill next to the road shows the eery ruin of a once huge building. Blackened by the night or fire – or both – it seems more akin to a dark preditor – ready to jump and crush whatever dares to set foot along the road.
For a moment like something reaching out to you – like an ice cold hand trying to squash your heart. Your senses seem to play tricks with you as moments later you seem to smell smoke. A rather unpleasant smell – like burning flesh. But no matter how much you look in the direction of the smell - you can’t spot any sign of a fire. It is dark – it should be easy to spot anything burning nearby – especially something that keeps burning despite such strong rain.
You hurry on, leaving the odd sensations behind you. The first houses of Ravengro appear. You keep going, you don’t stop. You spot a large and well tended house on your right. At the T-junction in front of the house you follow the direction towards the town center. A small bridge crosses a tiny stream – swollen by the rain.
You spot some welcoming light in the second house on the left after the bridge. Prof. Lorrimors house as you remember it/as it had been described to you. For the first time in many hours you feel safe again.
A young woman in her mid-twenties opens the door. She introduces herself as Kendra – the only daughter of the Professor. She looks tired and her red and puffy eyes are clear signs that she must have cried not too long ago. She is dressed in dark and conservative clothes. In other circumstances you would describe her as attractive. But right now she seems in sorrow.
A short smile of heartfelt thanks mixed with curiosity crosses her face as she addresses you.
”Thanks for coming all the way. My father has fondly told me about you. I’m Kendra – Petros daughter. There are some refreshments in the kitchen and you can find a place to rest upstairs. You might also want to chat to the other friends of my father who have already arrived.
Please don’t think I’m rude – but the funeral is in the morning and I will have some last preperations to attend to. I should have more time to talk to you later.”
The Lorrimor Place
This modest home was, until recently, the home of Professor Petros Lorrimor and his daughter Kendra. You spot crowded bookshelves in every room you enter.
As the countryside flashed by outside the Post carriage on the way to Ravengro, Aldous remembered the day that the Professor's last letter arrived - the hand-writing on the envelope was unfamiliar, but the crest on the seal was the same.
He remembered his heart sinking when he read that his old friend had passed away, and that his presence was requested at the funeral, to be held in a week. The Professor had always seemed so full of life; how could he be gone? Although it had been years since he had ventured outside Caliphas, Aldous thought of all that the Professor had done for him over the years; finding him a place at the Observatory, enabling him to live a life of semi-solitude surrounded by his beloved books and telescopes, and most importantly, acting as a friend, and mentor... Although the journey might be perilous, how could not do this last task for the man who had meant so much to him?
He turned to the only other occupant of the carriage, a tall humanoid dressed in furs, and wearing a silver mask.
"I fear what may have happened to the Professor, but I also fear not knowing his true fate. He was always the kindest of men..."
The reply was a hoarse whisper...
"Do what you always do. Observe, keep quiet, and survive. There is nothing that we cannot overcome, together."
The figure shrugs.
"Along those lines, I think it would be best if we stuck to our usual story; namely, that I was badly burned in a fire at the Observatory, and that you nursed me back to health; however, for my own safety, and the aesthetic sensibilities of the general public, I must wear these robes so that the true extent of the damage does not scare them..."
Aldous smiles sadly, and sighs.
"You are right, as always. What would I do without you?"
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Dumped unceremoniously in the town square, such as it was, Aldous and his companion were struck with a sense of hostility and foreboding as they gazed at the rain-drenched shutters of the town.
"What a dreary place. We need to find the Professor's house as soon as possible!"
"I think you will find it is in this direction, my friend... Come..."
Leaning against the reassuring bulk of his companion, Aldous slowly made his way to the Professor's house. Anguish at the present warred with fond memories of the past as he stood at the threshold, waiting to be let in. When the Professor's daughter arrived, Aldous bowed low.
"Aldous Preklikin and company, Miss Lorrimor. I am sorry for your loss. Please, if there is anything that I or my companion can do to help, let us know."
He then gratefully accepted her hospitality, and moved inside to warm himself in front of the kitchen hearth.
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The carriage carefully navigates the narrow bridge before is passes the house of Prof. Lorrimor.
From the Market Square you retreat your steps - not paying much attention of the houses to both sides of you. It is only a short walk back - maybe some 500 feet. But in this weather and seemingly hostile environment it rather feels like a few miles.
The hired coach drove almost recklessly across the muddy roads, a dismal gray coating over the sky. Galadan attempted on more than one occasion to get the driver's attention and get him to slow down before they broke a wheel. But the driver gave no indication of slowing, or even of having heard, and looked about wildly as though expecting brigands or worse to attack at any moment.
With such a consideration in mind, Galadan turned his own gaze to the countryside and towns that they passed.
Other than a few strangely unnerving signs of ill luck, strange scents that should not really have been there, and the overbearing presence of death that seemed to hang over the place, he could see nothing further out of the ordinary.
He turned to the other patrons of the coach.
"I admit this is my first time in Ustalav. I had not expected the weather to be so unseasonal. Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. The hiring of the coach was paramount in my mind. I am Galadan Teresthin, and before you ask if I am here on business or pleasure, I must say neither, for I am come to attend the funeral of a colleague of mine."
So little time and so much to do. It was really inconsiderate of the Professor to do this to me.
Wren stands watch near the body of a cat killed by a passing carriage, butterfly net in hand. Waiting.
Tis a sad thing, too...the Professor was so kind to me. A few more and I shall be done here.
Wren finally spots yet another of her prey: a crow, come to eat.
This one is big, black, and fluffy...perfect. This is the last one I'll need. The crows here are all big and black. This dreary landscape seems to breed birds of ill omen.
Sneaking forward with her net, with a practiced hand, she traps the bird and, removing it by hand, puts it in a sack with the rest.
Don't have much time...guests will be arriving soon.
* * *
Wren returns to her 'nest' (really more of a small cottage well outside of Ravengro) to begin her work.
With luck, I'll finish in time. Sorry about this, birdy...I'll only take a few from each of you. Then you can go.
The sullen sun heads for the horizon as the small woman trudges along the road leading north towards Ravengro.Swaddled agaist the wind and rain in a funtional heavy woolen dress of dark green wool that would set of her hair perfectly if it were not covered in a shawl of the same material she makes her way past the bulk of the deserted and reputedly haunted Harrowtone.
'I must be mad'she thinks to herself 'I barely knew the man and he barely knew me so why was I sent for..and more to the point why did I feel it important to come'
She hears a rumbling behind her and steps aside to let a coach pass heading for the same destination as she is..it must be as beyond Ravengro is only the lake
Four days on the road , four days away from the relative safety off the Inn in which she has worked this last year and a half and now with winter approaching she finds herself on the road to who knows what end.The journey has been a long one the nights spent sheltering with peasant families who were both grateful to recieve her help with minor ills and hurts and wary of a witches power.
She snorts slightly..Witch..that is what they called her back in Magnimar..called her so often that she eventually fled the catcalls and abuse ..and what is a young woman with few real skills to do..she shoves aside the gloomy thoughts on her past and forges onwards..half an hour more and a second coach passes her the breakneck driving splashing mud onto her sturdy boots and skirt and causing her to silently curse the rich fools within who have no care for those on foot.
"I hope you crash you oaf" she calls after the driver. and then sees the lights of the town ahead in the gloaming.Hurrying her steps she passes the first building and then strides through the town square searching for the house she has been told to seek out.
Far too short lived, these harry brutes are. I must discipline myself, least I become attached to yet another candle in the storm.
Lorrimor, you intriguing fool, was it the storm that extinguished you, or did someone come along and smother your wick? I much doubt the former, as men such as ourselves do not fall to the wind or rain. If it was the later, than I promise your spirit now, I will reveal the truth of the matter and demand justice.
Now, what was the name of that child of yours…Katherine, Kennedy, human names are so difficult to keep straight. I imagine there will be tears and blubbering aplenty on her part. Bah, you would think a species with such a short lifespan would become accustom to death and not fall apart so easily. Would seducing the girl ease her pain or only delay it until and intensify it when I myself abandoned her? The thought of entwining myself with some harry country girl is unappealing enough to decide the matter…flowers then.
“You wish to be taken to the cem-cemetary, milord?” Asked the coach man.
“Tis what I said is it not? I’ve no patience to wonder this hamlet blindly looking for it myself. You’ve shown me the Lorrimor home, now take me to this, what is it called, Restlands. Or are you so ignorant to believe elvin gold not worth the trouble of a few minutes detour?”
“Alright milord, I’ll take you there. Just not a good hour to be going to a graveyard’s all.”
It was only a few minute’s search before Nym found what he was looking for amid the forlorn head stones and grave markers. He didn’t bother to read the stone’s inscription; the name of the poor soul was irrelevant, only what they had to offer. Kneeling down, he plucked the bundle of flowers from the damp ground. A beautiful collection, perfect for mourning the loss of a loved one.
”Thanks for coming all the way. My father has fondly told me about you. I’m Kendra – Petros daughter. There are some refreshments in the kitchen and you can find a place to rest upstairs. You might also want to chat to the other friends of my father who have already arrived.
“Good evening lass, your father has mention you often as well, though his eloquent portrayal does you poor justice. I am honored to finally be in your presence.” Nym gives a formal flourishing bow, hat in hand, unveiling the bouquet of flowers from behind his back when he rose. “A small token for your loss.”
”Please don’t think I’m rude – but the funeral is in the morning and I will have some last preperations to attend to. I should have more time to talk to you later.”
“No need to apologies necessary my dear, please, attend to what is important. I look forward to meeting your fathers acquaintances.”
Andrea stops a few yards from the house..a house so like the one she once called home noting the figures at the door.She slides her shawl from it's position covering her head and approaches the pool off light spilling from the doorway..
"My name is Andrea" she states simply "I was sent for"
Kevin Darlok set on the coach seat idly fingering the worn hem of his once nice jacket. The last year had been hard, jobs were scarce and adventuring had drawn up. Now his nice clothes were a road map of stitched tears and patched holes. He looked out the window and tried to make out details of the countryside as he passed. ”Damn depressing place, not what I had in mind from talking to the professor.”
The professor was gone now; the once kindly old man would never speak of his homeland again. ”Here is to you, good Sir!” Kevin pulled a silver flask from inside his jacket and took a long drink. ”And here is to me.” Kevin turned the flask up finishing its contents and then idly shook the container. ”Well that’s the last of that. Nothing to do about it until I get to Ravengro. He slipped the flask back into his jacket and dropped his head onto his chest and drifted off to sleep.
”Wake up Sir, wake up we are here!”
Kevin opens his eyes to see the face of the coachman mere inches from his nose. “Why thank you good man, and might I say your breath smells especially fine this evening.” Kevin sits up and pulls himself out of the coach, his boots splattering mud as he hits the ground. ”Lovely. Just lovely.”
He walks through the town looking for the house described by Professor Lorrimor, and hoping to spot a tavern if Cayden Cailean be willing. ”I guess even the god of ale and wine finds this place to drab this night.” Finally he comes to door described by his friend, straitens his jacket and adjusts his most prized piece of attire, his Aldori dueling sword. ”Well, at least they should have drink, it is a wake after all.”
He knocks on the door and meets fair Kendra and enters the home. My, my Professor, you never told me your daughter was such a beauty, shame on you Sir.”
Kendra wrote:
”Please don’t think I’m rude – but the funeral is in the morning and I will have some last preparations to attend to. I should have more time to talk to you later.”
“Think nothing of it my dear, I look forward to truly making your acquaintance at a later time.” Kevin bends at the waist and kisses Kendra's hand. ”I am sure I will be able to find something to my liking in this house to pass my time.”
As Kendra retires Kevin turns to inspect the house and possibly discover any drink to wet his parched throat.
The coach drops him off rather unceremoniously at the center of the village. As he alights from the coach he places a tall black hat on his head, the brim keeping most of the unpleasant rain from his person. He stops under the eaves of a nearby house to look more closely at the letter that was sent to him. He looks up to ask the coachman where he could find the Professor's house, but before he can, the coach he had hired lurches into the darkness, careening at irresponsible speeds as it turns around in the village square and heads back the way he came.
"Well, I suppose that is how people express gratitude in this area."
He looks closer at the paper and resolves to find the house on his own.
.....
”Thanks for coming all the way. My father has fondly told me about you. I’m Kendra – Petros daughter. There are some refreshments in the kitchen and you can find a place to rest upstairs. You might also want to chat to the other friends of my father who have already arrived.
Please don’t think I’m rude – but the funeral is in the morning and I will have some last preperations to attend to. I should have more time to talk to you later.”
Galadan is almost startled to see a pleasant face in such a dismal locale, but he doffs his hat in respect.
"My dear, you should not cry so much. It is sad that the Professor has gone, but he is in a better place now. Pharasma will see that his afterlife is befitting of his deeds. And I know his deeds were great."
He attempts to calm the young lady with his words.
"Of course I will excuse you. There are many preparations that must still be looked to."
Galadan allows the woman to lead him to the kitchen where he can finally remove his wet mantle and hat, to dry by the fire.
Accepting the somewhat perfunctory welcome that the Professors Daughter gives her Andrea wonders if she should suggest a sleeping draught for the obviously distraught Kendra but decides that would be too much of an intrusion at this time.Then she makes her way into the kitchen as directed and takes a position close to the fire warming her chilled bones as best as she can.
Her shawl, she spreads to dry over the back of a nearby chair and there is a distinct clunk from her cauldron as she sets the large bag down on the floor.She nods to those already there but remains silent beyond introducing herself if asked.
A tall elf in a dripping and disheveled noble's outfit which was in high style at least a decade past walks into the main room of the Lorrimor home. He makes a curt bow and addresses the occupants while surveying the room. "Good evening fellow former associates of the good professor." His gaze stops on the bright colored elvin woman for a moment. "A truely varied group we are." Regaining his composure he continutes. "My name is Nym Vallidorn, a former employee of Lorrimor."
Andrea lets her gaze travel from one occupant off the room to the next. The Scholarly looking grey haired man with his masked companion catch her interest for a second then her eyes sweep onto the young man in tattered finery that says Impoverished hiresword..the type of man she has had more than enough experience of over the last three years or so.
She quells the momentary panic caused by the somberly dressed elf at whom her mind screams Witchhunter..another type of encounter she has had one too many off for her peace of mind.
The entrance of the bedraggled Nym brings from her merely a simple "I am Andrea..welcome"
Fretting the hour, Wren puts on the last touches to the jewelry she had been making: a brooch, made of silver, depicting a cala lily over a sunset, surrounded by black feathers.
The Professor gave me my first flower, a long time ago. A cala lily...I'll never forget that kindness.
Attaching the brooch to her feathered outfit, Wren makes her way along the road to Ravengro.
Talking to herself, "Let's get going now, Wren. Can't keep them waiting."
* * *
Stopping before the house, Wren casts preenidigitation to remove the muck and rain from her feathers. Feeling presentable, Wren will approach and knock.
”Thanks for coming all the way. My father has fondly told me about you. I’m Kendra – Petros daughter. There are some refreshments in the kitchen and you can find a place to rest upstairs. You might also want to chat to the other friends of my father who have already arrived.
Please don’t think I’m rude – but the funeral is in the morning and I will have some last preperations to attend to. I should have more time to talk to you later.”
"I am Wren. I was both a friend and a fan of your father's. I'm sorry for your loss."
* * *
Wren enters and looks around, wondering who to delight with her gossip first. That one there!
To Galadan: "Jeg har jello i buksen min. Vennligst spiser ilden mens jeg ser på."
Greetings, elf. You seem like you are a long way from home. I am Wren.
One elf in a room is not usual for Ustalav..two in the same room is definitely cause for comment.Andrea has never been in a small room with 3 elves in her life and certainly not 3 with such wildly varying forms of dress and manner.
The swirling feathers of Wren's outfit start her mentally enumerating the different birds that have gone into its makeup.Though she gives no outward sign of understanding what was said fixing her attention on the flames of the fire she pays close heed to the conversation.
Aldous eyes the other new arrivals cautiously, watching for any potential threats.
The Professor certainly kept some... interesting... company. I wonder how the locals will react to so many Elves in one place?
He greets the introductions of the Elves with a polite nod, but otherwise studiously avoids too much contact with them, deliberately ignoring the exchange in Elven, although the feather-bedecked elf certainly caused him to raise an eyebrow.
One cannot be too careful... I would not want the townsfolk to tar me with the same brush...
He then feels the familiar presence of his companion, speaking directly into his mind, in a voice as ephemeral as star-light.
Patience, Aldous. I am sure that more will be revealed in time. For the moment, concentrate on observing, and learning the lay of the land...
Turning to Andrea, Aldous favours her with a bow, before stating:
"I am Aldous Preklikin, of the Observatory of Caliphas. I wish that our meeting was under happier circumstances. Forgive me for asking, but how did you know the Professor?"
Galadan is at first startled by the use of his native language. He looks around hurriedly and murmurs to Wren,
"I was given to understand that this area does not favor elves too highly. I can hide most of my elven features, but I suppose the eyes will always give it away. But, that aside, you have the right of it. We are both a long way from home."
As he is speaking, Galadan looks a little closer at the others within the room.
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Galadan
Looking around in an inquisitive way you have trouble to keep a suprised look from your face
DC 10 Will save to ensure you aren't looking surprised.
You notice more remnants of magic in this room as you ever expected. Most of them are faint, some hardly noticeable.
A broken brooch displayed in a cabinet.
A gem - seemingly burned out - but your senses still notice some lingering aura of magic
A burnt down candle on a candle holder
A small leather pouch with the faintest of auras
A scroll case between some books
Seemingly a few vials - likely potions - that your comrades carry.
But most intriguing seems a large box - locked - that seems to contain several magic items. But you seem unable to make out all the different auras - you seem even unable to tell the exact number of them
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With difficulty Galadan manages to hide a suprised look on his face. Only his training as inquisitor seems to prevent him from giving away that he is snooping around.
This was unexpected. Not that he was sure what to expect when he started.
There is another reason you will be unable to figure out the auras in the box. I haven't yet finalized what's in there :)
But I added it as a teaser - the box will be opened at some stage.
Wren's eyes bulge as she sees and hears Galadan cast a spell right in front of her.
He thinks *I'm* magical!? I'm flattered, but he's not the brightest egg in the nest, is he?
Wren laughs and watches Galadan's face as he scans the room.
"Tis a funny thing to mention how you want to be well received by townsfolk, but then go casting spells and performing magic not only right in front of me, but upon me." Wren laughs. "Some might take offense to that."
"I keep my magicks to myself around here and although it is not forbidden, I try not to show too much."
Looking to the right and left, Wren gets closer to Galadan to whisper in a conspiratorial fashion.
"Now, were did you learn that trick? Did the Professor teach you that?"
Galadan smiles a little to himself at the accusation.
"You are indeed perceptive. The trick, however, is something I learned from my faith, if anything. My name is Galadan Teresthin. My occupation involves research, magic, and militant persuasion of the enemies of Pharasma."
He looks around the room again, taking mental notes
"I had thought that my spell was more subtly cast than that, and I hope you do not feel too affronted at my curiosity and need to understand the people in the room a little better."
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Kendra enters the room. She is carrying a large tray. You can spot a bottle of ale, a fine bottle of wine with several glasses as well as a steaming pot with several cups as well as a clay jug. A bowl of dried fruit accompanies the drinks.
"My apology to everyone that I haven't had time to be a better host. This are busy times for me. I'm really grateful that you all managed to come. When I send out the invitations, I couldn't tell if anyone would show up. Now only one of Petros friends is still missing. And I'm sure Cassandra will also arrive ahead of the funeral. I do understand that she might not feel comfortable around strangers and might prefer to arrive just ahead of the ceremony."
Turning towards Kevin she picks up the bottle. "I'm sure you will enjoy the bottle. My father liked to bring some back whenever he was in Absalom. Unfortunately this is the last one. If you want to try something local - try the liquid ghosts at the Laughing Demon. Zokar brews it himself."
Kendra then turns towards Galadan and Nym. "I hope you enjoy the wine. It's from Kyonin. Please let me know if you prefer something different. My father did teach me that not all members of other races are always the same. But I would have needed to use scrying to find out what you prefer as we haven't met before. And I felt it might be more polite to guess wrong as to offend you via magic."
She then turns towards Wren. "Are the children still cruel and call you names whenever you walk down the road. I haven't seen you in a while. The flower you wear seems new. I haven't seen it before. It looks beautiful. There are some spare glasses for the wine as well as some herbal tea and plain water.".
Turning towards Andrea. "Please take whatever you like. I feel a lot better now that I have company. Everything suddenly felt darker and a feeling of ill omens seemed to be seeping into Ravengro since fathers death. I'm sure it's just my imagination and feeling lonely."
Turning towards Aldous and Hastur. "Father told me about your friend. I would like to spend some time with him as he intrigues me. But now is not the time. And it is wise to ave the mask on while in town. People here tend to be suspicious at best of times. Lately it seems to have gotten worse."
What now have you involved me with this time professor? Your associations are most liberal and diverse...All look as though they are armed in one manner or another, presumably loyal to you, and have been strategically gathered in one location. Perhaps you are pulling strings from the grave...preparing to point your weapons in the direction of your killer and let loose...or, mayhap this is whomever killed you at work, bringing your most capable allies together to be disposed of...
This daughter of yours...how much does she have to gain by your demise and our removal?
"I hope you enjoy the wine. It's from Kyonin. Please let me know if you prefer something different. My father did teach me that not all members of other races are always the same. But I would have needed to use scrying to find out what you prefer as we haven't met before. And I felt it might be more polite to guess wrong as to offend you via magic."
Nym glances briefly at the bottle, "A very fine vintage my dear, very fine in deed." He accepts one of the glasses with a nod, taking a moment to breath in the wine's aroma before bringing the rim to his lips.
As Kendra turns away to talk to the others Nym moves to lean against one of the bookshelves, careful to keep his damp clothing clear of any of the books themselves. He watches her speak to the others, taking note of her mention of things becoming more tense in town.
"I had thought that my spell was more subtly cast than that, and I hope you do not feel too affronted at my curiosity and need to understand the people in the room a little better."
Subtly cast? Speaking words of power are rarely subtle! And to think I would not notice! Maybe he thinks *I* am the blunt beak in the flock?
Wren feigns not being offended.
"Oh no, not offended at all! Tell me, what enemies of Pharasma do you seek? Little birdies are oft to tell me tales and mayhaps I could be of assistance."
* * *
She then turns towards Wren. "Are the children still cruel and call you names whenever you walk down the road. I haven't seen you in a while. The flower you wear seems new. I haven't seen it before. It looks beautiful."
Wren blushes when Kendra mentions the ornate, handcrafted black jewelry...it was the newest to her collection and her finest piece of work that she could recall. Truly, a lot of love had gone into it.
"This old thing?" Wren blushes and continues, "Thank you for noticing and thank you for the refreshments. You are as kind a host as was your father."
Wren's face wrinkles a bit when Kendra mentions the children, clearly baffled.
"Children would laugh at me? Why would they ever do that? Wren searches her mind for instances of such, but she doesn't recall that ever happening. "I think you're confusing me for someone else."
"I'm sure you will enjoy the bottle. My father liked to bring some back whenever he was in Absalom. Unfortunately this is the last one. If you want to try something local - try the liquid ghosts at the Laughing Demon. Zokar brews it himself."
Well my dear Kendra, thank you for such a fine bottle, of Cayden Brew. I will be sure to put it to good use.’
Kevin takes the bottle and uncorks it and seems to see the others for the first time. With a slight side step and a deep bow Kevin introduces himself to the group. “Greetings fellow mourners, I am Kevin Darlok and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
"I am Aldous Preklikin, of the Observatory of Caliphas. I wish that our meeting was under happier circumstances. Forgive me for asking, but how did you know the Professor?"
Andrea turns towards the speaker..the older more distinguished looking man.
"I..I barely knew the Professor Sir" she says with a slight catch in her voice betraying her slight nervousness. "He helped me escape from a life that would probably have killed me sooner or later..although I am surprised he even remembered me or saw fit to ask for my attendance at his funeral"
When Kendra enters she turns towards her grateful for the opportunity to avoid any more searching questions.
"Thank you" she says as she reaches for the pot.."It has been a long days travel for me and something warm inside is most appreciated." she sniffs the pot.."Cammomile tea..just the thing to help promote a restful nights sleep"
The girls speech patterns are not those you would expect from someone dressed as simply as she is and her accent shows that she is not from Ustalav by birth.
Cassandra pulls the cloak over her raven hair as she steps out of the coach into the rain. She steps quickly through the downpour to the Profeesor's house. After knocking on the door, she waits for it to open, when it does she blinks her mis-matched eyes in the sudden brightness. She addresses the young woman in front of her "Greetings, Ma'am. My name is Cassandra, I believe that it was you who sent me the letter? My condolences, your father was a good man and I was sadden to hear of his passing." Following the girl into the drawing room her eyes widen perceptively as she takes in the others in the room. "Such a diverse group of friends the Professor has collected. I should expect nothing else given his vocation."
As Andrea begins to pour her tea there is a knock on the door and Kendra excuses herself before slipping out of the room. When she returns in the company of another woman Andrea nods in greeting and offers her a cup of the herbal brew.
"It is a wild night..and likely to get worse. Please,take this..does anyone else wish a cup?" she asks as she looks around the assembled company falling into service mode quite easily.
Adam gently spurns the Kyonin wine.
"Elven may be my native language, but I have given up most of the trappings of the culture some decades ago. As I only recently told Madam Wren here, I am Galadan Teresthin, and the enemies of Pharasma that I seek are those that willfully seek to disobey the tenants of death itself. Necromancers and their ilk for the most part. But this is a poor time to speak of such matters. The professor was an educational colleague of mine, I worked as a research assistant for him for some time; it was... interesting, to say the least."
He does accept a cup of tea from Andrea, if she offers him one.
Galadans statement wins him a small smile from Andrea as she hands him his cup off tea.It would seem that she has nothing to fear from the saturnine elf after all.
"It is a wild night..and likely to get worse. Please,take this..does anyone else wish a cup?" she asks as she looks around the assembled company falling into service mode quite easily.
Kevin pours a glass of Cayden Brew and turns to Andrea. "I thank you for the offer, but I prefer something with a little more kick."
"Madame I do say you look familiar though. Maybe we me in my travels?"
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Kendra opens the door for Cassandra
"Welcome Cassandra! I was afraid you might only manage to come here last minute. It is nice to see you around already. Please sit down and take a rest for the moment."
The weather outside seems to have got worse. Rain is coming down sideways. Dark ominous clouds swirl across the sky. Lighting can be seen. You all feel happy to be inside and warm.
Where did this bad weather suddenly come from. The sun had been out just a day before. Luckily you are not superstitious. Other vice you might feel that the bad weather had been there all the time - waiting to ambush your very arrival.
Link Weather Outside - thanks to GM Barcas where I copied it from
The shabby young mans words cause Andrea to freeze momentarily and she turns to look at him properly.Had he been a customer,one of the many who had enjoyed her 'talents' in the past. She cannot tell, all the faces have blurred,so many lustful male faces all combined into one .
"I do not know Sir" she replies with a slight hesitation in her voice "Perhaps you have,maybe if you tell me of your travels and what your association with the Professor was I would remember"
"Ah yes, I traveled with the professor for a time as a body guard after a unfortunate incident involving the professor, 3 young men intent on relieving the good man of his heavy gold, an alley, and a lot of blood. More than a bit of which was mine. We parted ways a year ago, and since then I have traveled the lands seeking that which all men seek, gold and drink. I don’t believe I actually have officially made your acquaintance, for surely I would remember one as lovely as yourself."
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Nym
Leaning close to the bookshelf you can't avoid to notice the spines of several of the books. True to a scholar like Prof. Lorrimor they seem to deal with many different topics. From treaties about regions of Golarion you haven't been yet to monster lore and religion.
A scholar likely could study here for quite some time.
Kendra leaves the room for a moment. She carries a dusty bottle on her way back. She leans closer to Kevin who suddenly seems to have the attention of two women at once.
"You are from the Five Kingdoms. Maybe you have heard about the mead produced there by the Hymbrian elfs. My father brought back the bottle from one of his travels when I was still a girl. I remember he was sick for a full day after he tried it. And he never did so again. But this surely is said to carry a kick.
Just don't complain afterwards that I didn't warn you."
You notice a small amount missing from an other vice full bottle.
The Hymbrian Elves are celebrated for savoury dried mushrooms and herbs unique to their forest and cultivated in hidden glades. These plants are said to originate from Kyonin or even Sovyrian. They make a potent distilled mead from the honey of bees feeding upon these exotic plants. It's enjoyed by Hymbrian natives but not well tolerated by other races - including foreign elves who haven't been to the forests rare plants. A small amount can be more debilitating as several mugs of Dwarven Rotgut.
Characters from the Five Kingdoms get a +5 - so can try untrained. Elves get a +2
Andrea's mind drifts back to the Professors obtaining her employment in that small village Inn. A young man on a black horse in the background as the Professor took his leave..she feels relieved that this one at least is not an ex client..
"I believe we may have glimpsed each other momentarily about 6 months before you left his employ" she says
Know.Nature
She raises an eyebrow at the bottle as Kendra describes what it is...
"I would advise a very small glass of that Sir, if you want to be sober in the morning that is. It is stronger than the most vile of Dwarven Spirits."
"I believe we may have glimpsed each other momentarily about 6 months before you left his employ" she says.
Kevin nods his head to Andrea, “Ah, the fetching young lass the good professor hired. Now I recall, you were truly a diamond among coal that day, if I remember correctly.
"You are from the Five Kingdoms. Maybe you have heard about the mead produced there by the Hymbrian elfs. My father brought back the bottle from one of his travels when I was still a girl. I remember he was sick for a full day after he tried it. And he never did so again. But this surely is said to carry a kick.
Just don't complain afterwards that I didn't warn you."
Kevin takes the bottle and lightly bows, giving Kendra a mischievous grin. ”Why Lady Kendra, if I did not know better, I would think you were trying to get me intoxicated. Well if so, just wait for I shall be there directly.
"I would advise a very small glass of that Sir, if you want to be sober in the morning that is. It is stronger than the most vile of Dwarven Spirits."
Kevin gives Andrea a crooked smile that does not meet his eyes. ”My dear, I do not want to be sober any morning.”
Turning towards Aldous and Hastur. "Father told me about your friend. I would like to spend some time with him as he intrigues me. But now is not the time. And it is wise to ave the mask on while in town. People here tend to be suspicious at best of times. Lately it seems to have gotten worse."
"Of course. It is important to keep the cycle unbroken. My knowledge is at your disposal..."
The figure shrugs at the mention of the 'suspicious nature' of the locals.
"I thought as much. Ignorance has always feared that which it did not understand..."
Andrea turns towards the speaker..the older more distinguished looking man.
"I..I barely knew the Professor Sir" she says with a slight catch in her voice betraying her slight nervousness. "He helped me escape from a life that would probably have killed me sooner or later..although I am surprised he even remembered me or saw fit to ask for my attendance at his funeral"
The girls speech patterns are not those you would expect from someone dressed as simply as she is and her accent shows that she is not from Ustalav by birth.
Aldous nods companionably, and smiles wanly.
"The Professor was indeed a generous man, touching the lives of a great many people; your story sounds just like him..."
Aldous' voice trails off, anguish clearly etched across his features; then he sighs, and the moment passes.
When Kendra brings in the tray, Aldous accepts a cup of tea, and some dried fruit, but otherwise does not partaker of the 'stronger' beverages, as he wants to keep his wits about him...
Patience, and observation, are required... I must never be caught off guard...
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A loud and impatient knock can be heard on the door. Whoever it is that late at night, he or she must have left the cosy fireplace to brace the bad weather and darkness to come to the Professors house that late at night.
Kendra opens the door. For a short moment a face appears in the doorframe of your room, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
You spot the face of a bald man with a grim expression on his face. Water droplets seem to flow in streams from his balding head. But his stern gaze as he quickly seems to judge you seems a clear sign that something more important is on his mind.
Half hidden below his coat you spot a large hourglass. No sand can be seen in the upper part, while the lower one is hidden.
The odd person disappears in the kitchen with Kendra. He seem to know her well. But he seems it not necessary to introduce himself to you.
You hear a male voice speaking while walking towards the kitchen.
"Kendra, I'm afraid there are some problems in the town."
The kitchen door closes - making it near impossible to follow the rest of the conversation.
"Kendra, you know very well that I sense something bad happening since your fathers death. And I'm sure others sense it as well. Your father was a great man. But you know how superstitious the villagers are. They can't distinguish a learnt man from a charlatans and fear everything that they don't understand.
The pallbearer have gone on strike. They told me, they would refuse to carry the professor. I was unable to convince them in any way. Luckily it seems several of the Professors friends have arrived. I guess they will have to do. I'm just glad some of them are only elfs and not worth. We don't want to have a scandal tomorrow.
I will leave with you the hour glass of Pharasma. I trust it to you. If you have a follower of Pharasma - he or she might carry it. If not - please carry it yourself.
I will be ahead to ensure all is fine at the crypt. You know the way. Pharasma be with you and give you strength my child.
You hear the door of the kitchen opening again. Without introduction he leaves as he came. You just hear his last words.
"Oh - and please don't chose the bird. Too colourful. This is a respectful funeral."
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The drink burns your mouth and kicks into your gut like nothing you have ever tried before. You are sickened for d4 hours. I'm not cruel - morning will be in 6 hours.
Maybe I'm cruel. The sickness lasts for 1d4+6 hours and you suffer 1d2 temp con damage. Did I tell that alcohol is not healthy?
Perception Check #1:
Perception Check #2:
Kevin has heard of this drink and does not want to risk the chance of looking the fool in front of his new companions.
“Ah, the fetching young lass the good professor hired. Now I recall, you were truly a diamond among coal that day, if I remember correctly.
Andreas heart falls a little.."He remembers me..he knows what I am" she waits for him to tell the others they have a whore in their midst but his attention seems to be on the bottle more than her now.
Kevin gives Andrea a crooked smile that does not meet his eyes. ”My dear, I do not want to be sober any morning.”
And what led you to that she thinks. Outwardly she merely shrugs.."On your own head be it then"
Perception 1
Perception 2
She keeps her own counsel on what she has heard though her eyes do drift to the colourful figure of Wren as the man takes his leave
When the gentleman briefly pokes his head into the room and retrieves the Professor's daughter, Aldous turns to his companion...
Threat, or ally? What are the problems of which he speaks?
Hastur then telepathically relays everything that he is able to overhear with his otherworldly senses, causing Aldous to frown...
Sigh. I knew that this was no simple matter. I feel that this does not bode well. Oh Professor; what did you get mixed-up in before your end?
Kevin slowly drinks his Cayden Brew and looks around the room at his new companions. "Professor, did I wrong you in some way for you to reach from your grave and put me in this situation? And here I thought we were friends." He chuckles and shakes his head.
"Well at least there is scenery, Cassandra is one of the most beautiful women I have laid eyes on in quite a while, and little Andrea isn't bad looking either. To bad the elf woman seems half-crazy, even though see seems homely for an elf, I have never had a companion of the elven persuasion. As for Lady Kendra, even I would feel wrong chasing after the Professor’s daughter this soon after his death. At least the Professor thought well enough of me to soften the blow with good drink.” Kevin turns and pours himself another glass of Cayden Brew.
Wren moves to ask Andrea if she may share in the tea...anxious for another person with which to gossip.
To Andrea: "That is a lovely garment who have on. Wherever is it from?"
* * *
Sipping her tea, Wren listens with deep interest to each of the stories told...introductions and relationships to the Professor, making mental notes of things both said and unsaid, with both hints of truth and avoidance, carefully storing them for another time.
My little birdies tell me so much!
* * *
Wren will pass on the stronger drinks...the tea is all she needs, but is happy when others drink a bit, 'tis a helpful push to a looser tongue.
Look at that one there, the noble, Kevin...he doth like his drink, doesn't he? Interesting, that.
* * *
Oh interesting. And sad. The birdies do sing a mournful song. And the Professor was such a dear friend.
Wren spends some time watching the elf studying the books.
That one seems different...angry, even. Hmmm.
Wren moves to ask Andrea if she may share in the tea...anxious for another person with which to gossip.
To Andrea: "That is a lovely garment who have on. Wherever is it from?"
Andrea looks down at her plain, woollen and somewhat mud bespattered green dress.
"Lovely?..This? I wouldn't call it that but it it is functional for going abroad in this weather.It came from a....Merchant from Brevoy I don't know exactly where it was made..I'm sorry"
'Aye and he got good value for it too,randy old goat that he was' she thinks.
Galadan ceases looking about at the various books and other shelved items in the room when he hears the other man enter.
At the offer of even further wine, Galadan quietly shakes his head. He explains to Wren and Andrea, however, who are drinking their tea nearby, "I myself do not indulge in strong spirits. I face enough of the undead kind as it is, and find that these brews dull the senses, which are fortunately well tuned to the needs of my profession."
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Kendra leaves you for a while before she comes back.
"I've prepared a few beds upstairs. This is a small house - so the last of you will have to stay on the couch down here. I leave it up to you how long you still want to chat.
If you feel hungry - feel free to look for bread and cheese in the kitchen. I hope you will excuse me. The night is well progressed now and I need to be ready tomorrow morning. I hope you will excuse me."
With this words she leaves.
If you walk into the kitchen you spot a large hourglass with red sand on thor bottom.
For Pharasma worshipper
You identify this as a large religious symbol of Pharasma. It is much too large to be used for an adventurer but would rather be used stationary in a church or for ceremonies.