"They feel the dead here, even if they don't know it," growls Khardan. "S'why we're here - to protect them from what they feel in their bones."
Khardan rarely suffers from doubt. Right or wrong, he's certain about his pronouncements.
Filiana says nothing to the others conversation about the right or wrong-ness of the noise levels once the group finds themselves outside once again. Although only moderately tired from her exertions within the prison, as the adrenalin begins to wear off, she finds herself becoming more and more exhausted mentally. And so she shambles along, following the group but only very vaguely aware of their conversations.
Lost deep within her own thoughts, she stumbles off to her bed as soon as the group gets back to the Estate, not thinking to join in any post-adventure debrief before falling asleep.
The evening passes in silence, for the most part. After a good dinner from the Lorrimors' pantry and some time to confer as to how to best deal with Harrowstone's denizens, the party turns in for the night...
...only for something to come to the door in the wee hours of the morning. There's a heavy *KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKING* at the door.
"What?" Imperia gets up and puts on her armor coat. She heads down to the door. "Who is there?"
There's no response from the door.
"Gang. I think there's something very wrong here. I smell grave dirt. I'll open the door, but not until we are ready. Hurry!" She waits for the others.
The initial thumping at the door serves to wake Filiana, but, hearing Imperia dress and start to head for the door, she doesn't feel the need to go herself. Since she is awake however, she sits up in the bed. It is only then that she realizes that she is not actually in the bed so much as she is on it. Looking down at herself she also discovers that she was still dressed.
Goodness! I must have been much more tired than I thought... I don't think ... I can remember ... ever ... the thought trails off as she glances at the window... But it's still dark! Look at the sky... it's the middle of the night. Oh, but this can't be good!
She has just jumped off the bed when she hears Imperia calling out to the rest of the group. Immediately she heads out of her room and down to the front of the house, stopping when she sees Imperia by the front door.
Imperia, wh.. what is it?
Heeding Imperia's warning, Bramwell approaches the door with caution. "Hmm. I can think of only one person who has recently left his grave and would have any reason to come to this house. Perhaps it is the Professor on the other side of this door," he muses. Bramwell then stretches his arm and picks up ths scythe leaning against a nearby wall. "Then again, perhaps not."
In the dim light he can see them coming for him - fleshless bones, malformed and mis-shapen, shadowy skeletons of crude and twisted creatures held together by nothing but sheer malice. He swings his cane about him, knocking apart skeleton after skeleton, but still they come, silently raking at him with clawed hands. He detects a tremor from within himself - muscle spasms? fatigue? No, something different... his limbs begin to twitch and shake, his swings becoming less and less accurate. Talons rake across his flesh, sending feathers floating to the ground; the searing pain of his wounds is echoed by a growing ache throughout his body...
What is happening to me?
A light flares somewhere in the darkness and he sees his foes clearly for an instant - their long black talons, their extra digits, their back-bent legs, their large rib cages - their
He is momentarily stunned by the discovery that they are all primitive tengu skeletons, and with growing horror he realizes that the twitches, the growing ache deep in his bones - these are As they rend his flesh, seeking to free their comrade from it's prison of muscle and blood, he begins to scream...
Cawthorne wakes with a start, his pounding heart echoing in his ears. Wait a moment - that's the door! He squints and looks around himself, unsure for a few moments where he is. Then the prior day's events come back to him: the Professor's open grave, the prison, collapsing into a cot the young Lorrimor woman had thoughtfully provided for him. Standing, he struggles into a pair of pants, tucking his nightshirt into them as best he can before stumbling towards the front hall.
"Gang. I think there's something very wrong here. I smell grave dirt. I'll open the door, but not until we are ready. Hurry!"
"Hmm. I can think of only one person who has recently left his grave and would have any reason to come to this house. Perhaps it is the Professor on the other side of this door. Then again, perhaps not."
"Grave dirt?" the doctor says groggily as he approaches. "Probably just our -" his beak opens into a massive yawn " - our boots by the door. But who would call at this hour?" He blinks the last of the sleep from his eyes, then nods at the door.
"Shall I?"
Imperia steps back. "Feel free." She draws her weapon, and waits.
As Doctor Cawthorne approaches the door, Filiana sidles quietly to one side, so as to now be standing more behind Imperia than she was before. Muttering in a low voice, she then reaches out and touches her and there is a brief exchange of white light from the shorter woman to the taller.
Out of spells, Khardan simply takes up his spear and prepares to skewer any unfriendly presences at the door.
As Dr. Cawthorne opens the front door, the smell of grave dirt and decay becomes overpowering.
Standing in the doorway, in filthy, ragged funerary clothes and with his head at an awkward angle, his once shining eyes glassy & dead, his grey hair stringy and caked with dirt, is the once-living Professor Lorrimor. His arms raise up and a low gurgling noise escapes his throat, pointing at Cawthorne with a bony finger.
Noticing the Professor's menacing disposition, Bramwell immediately drops the scythe and jumps at the zombified incarnation of his former friend. Something in the back of the nobleman's mind—and maybe of his heart, too—urges him to preserve the integrity of Lorrimor's body. Instead of trying to rip it apart, the dhampir instead attempts to grab and immobilize the creature at the door.
Utterly taken aback by the sudden appearance, not only of yet another undead monster, but of Professor Lorrimor himself, returned in this ghastly fashion, Filiana cries out in horror and cringes back from the scene before her.
Bramwell's ill-advised attempt to waltz with Professor Lorrimor's body fails as the zombie shifts to the side.
"Have you any idea how late it is to - !"
Cawthorne's beak drops open in shock as the figure on the doorstep finally registers to his sleep-addled mind. He stands idly, stunned by disbelief, as Lord Bramwell pushes past him to wrangle with the Professor's corpse.
Khardan is shocked to see his dear old benefactor in such a state. His jaw drops and he can't seem to think of what to say.
The reanimated corpse of Professor Lorrimor turns its decaying head to Bramwell, moans something unintelligible, and swings a meaty fist...
...and the blow grazes his shoulder, but it's still quite forceful.
Imperia sighs. "Thank you for the magic Filina." She wades in, and stabs at the walking corpse with her cold iron rapier. "We have to get him out of here before Kendra sees him. It would be terrible for her."
Imperia's strike hits the professor squarely in the lung. It doesn't seem to slow him down at all.
"Bulwark's balls!" sputters Khardan, heedless of the mixed company. He throws down his spear and unlimbers his morningstar. He can't bring himself to bash in his old tutor's face, so he swings low, seeking to crush the the Professor's thighs.
Khardan's strike hits the professor squarely in the thigh. There's a dry *crunching* noise as the morningstar's spikes impact on bone, but the professor's zombie doesn't seem to notice.
Cawthorne, shocked by being face to face with his old mentor's animated corpse, reflexively grabs for the silver flask in the pocket of his suit coat but gets only a handful of nightshirt. As the reality of the situation settles upon him, he takes a step back and begins to despair. The Professor's corpse, defiled in such a, a heinous manner! And what of his soul? Something deep within him stirs, and his despair swells with something darker. This isn't Professor Lorrimor, Audubon - it's someone making fools of both you and him. Someone laughing at you from the shadows. A fury bubbles up inside him, and he lets out a raucous screech.
Filiana's cold numbing horror threatens to overwhelm her at the sight of the Professor attacking those who he once called friends. Darkness seems to creep in at the edge of her vision until all she can see is the contorted and monstrous face of the man that once she looked up to.
No, oh no no no. The Professor! He's become a monster. He was so kind, and now look at him. They've made him into this.. this thing. And he's here to ... to ... kill us ... to kill Kendra... his own daughter?
Suddenly, the darkness in her mind is pierced by a pale white light. Tiny at first but growing into a pillar of white flame. And with the flame comes anger. Grasping at the fire with her mind, Filiana steps out from behind Imperia to get a clear view of the creature in the doorway.
"No!" her voice cracks at first but then she continues, getting stronger... "No! How dare you? How dare you do this to him? Send him here, like this? He ... he was kind. He was good!" And with that, a jet of white flame lances out from her outstretched hand to strike the zombie.
The zombie actually flinches when Filiana's fire strikes him. The smell of cooked flesh fills the front hall.
Bramwell cannot bring himself to try and destroy the Professor, even in this malignant iteration. Once more, he attempts to immobilize the zombie without inflicting any harm. If we spare the body, perhaps we can bring the spirit back, he hopes. The attack opens Bramwell up to immediate retaliation, but the nobleman disregards the risk.
The undead professor swings at Bramwell as he tries to grab him again, but all he does is give the druid a leverage point to grab onto. He groans and tries to yank his arm free...
...but his groaning and flailing does not avail him!
[dice=CMB check to give Lorrimor the pinned condition (with a +5 circumstance bonus because the Professor did not break the grapple)]1d20+3+5[/dice]
Bramwell turns the Professor around and uses the full force os his body to press the zombie against the sill of the door, trying to pin it. As the creature twitches and turns violently under the tight hold, Bramwell himself hisses and grunts disturbingly in response, and for a moment it becomes hard to determine which is the more bestial creature of the two. "Rope!", the lord demands.
Bramwell is able to pin Professor Lorrimor's zombie against the door sill easily.
"Lord Bramwell what are you doing? It's not the Professor. It's just his body reanimated in death. He should be destroyed." She steps back to allow Kardan in close since he has knowledge of religion.
Khardan agrees with Imperia, but hesitates to disobey the nobleman.
She's right. That's not Lorrimar. It's some vile spirit riding his body like a horse.
"Sorry, my lord," he says, and smashes the revenant with his warhammer.
If the defender survives the damage, he must make a Fortitude save (DC 10 + damage dealt) or die.
While keeping a tight hold of the zombie, Bramwell turns his bloody stare to Imperia, his eyes burning with ire. "Do you not know, librarian," he starts, forcing his social status and forgetting his forsaken title holds little to no sway anymore, "that Lorrimor was more to me than a mere colleague at some study hall?", the dhampir gnarls. "When others would have me destroyed and forgotten, he offered me friendship. I owe it to whatever is left of him to repay it. And I shall do my best to save his body and soul, as he has done for me." His voice carries a mixture of anger and sadness. Focused as he is on Imperia's defiance, Bramwell is completely taken aback by Khardan's sudden strike. "No!"
Khardan's hammer comes down with a *CRUNCH*. The zombie groans once and goes still in Bramwell's arms, its neck wrenched at a painful angle.
Imperia holds a hand out to Lord Bramwell. It looks like she wants to pat his arm, but doesn't know if he'll be angry with her.
"I understand your reasoning for wanting to save him, but none of us have the power to do that. I believe that the best way for me to honor him is to return him to his rest."
Bramwell takes the Professor's hanging head and holds it gently in place, taking the body in his arms like a sad animal that cannot understand its progeny is dead. He ignores Imperia's gesture and carries Lorrimor to the amrchair the dhampir has claimed as his since the first night in the house. Every movement is delicate and silent. The pitch-dark night outside calls out to Bramwell, and he answers by opening the window and staring in the distance. The cold wind of the small hours fill his nostrils, and after a deep breath he makes public his discontent.
"Simpletons", he vosciferates, "will always bank on violence, yes. One night in a monster's skin, and you see it, Professor. Imagine a whole life." He turns around to take a second look at the inanimate zombie lying on the chair, and then glances at Khardan, squinting. "At least, it is not completely destroyed. The body, yes? We must keep it safe." He throws Imperia the same icy gaze. "Even if none of us have the power to save him... yet."
Khardan kneels down beside the monstrous nobleman and the body of the beloved man he was just forced to smash. His face, never a lovely sight, is terrible to behold. Anger and sadness war in that sallow visage, his eyes narrowed, his body trembling, violence caged beneath his surface.
However, his thoughts are not even focused on what Bramwell is saying. He thinks of the horror he has just been forced to participate in. He raised me up from nothing. He gave me food and shelter and made me think. That old man paid with his own coin for the warhammer I just used to beat him to a pulp, and someone is going to pay for that in blood. By Arqueros, I will find the one responsible for this and do to them what I just did to the poor Professor.
He now registers that Bramwell is speaking. Khardan's jaw works and the warrior priest visibly struggles to bite back a retort. He shakes his head and rises, pacing around the small room.
"I pray," he says at last, his voice small and controlled, "that anyone of you would do as much for me. Let no spirit inhabit my body when I have done with it, nor let me harm those I once tries to protect."
Turning to Bramwell, he says "I know you loved him, my lord. I regret that I could not spare you that sight. I am only a simple priest of Arqueros, but I think the Professor deserves to be buried and honored. I want to have a conversation with the priests of Pharasma. They buried him. Why was he not protected from this horror? After that, I plan to hunt down whoever did this and end them."
"We need to get him out of the house before Kendra comes downstairs. She does not need to see this sight. Again I'm sorry that it came to this. He was a good friend and colleague. A fine man, that has been reduced to this." She tries to get the group moving toward the door, and keeps glancing at the stairs hoping Kendra is still sleeping soundly.
Filiana stands watching the scene play out after Khardan strikes down what was left of the Professor. For a long moment her eyes continue to glow, not with the pale flickering light that has been seen on occasion recently, but with a bright white light. And then it fades. And with it, much of her outrage fades as well, leaving her drained.
So this is what, anger? No ... not anger. I've been angry before. This was so, so much more ... oh, but I am shaking from it...
With the light and the outrage gone from her eyes, Filiana stares now at the body of Professor Lorrimor, shaken to her very core at the ravaged visage before her. She stands unspeaking, her mouth covered by one hand as Lord Bramwell places the Professor in a chair and her eyes fill with unshed tears at the despair she hears in Bramwell's voice as he speaks.
Although she does not speak directly to any one person in the room, she tries to address the grief that each of them in their own way seems to be articulating.
"I think ..." she pauses a moment, gathering her thoughts, " it was a good thing that we were here. Yes it is terrible that we have had to do such a thing, to a man we all held so dear, but think what might have happened had we not been here. This is what he asked us to do. To protect Kendra. I think, that him coming back here like this and ... harming ... her, would be the worst thing he could possibly imagine. He would have rather we killed him a hundred times over and more rather than that." She pauses again and a pensive look crosses her face. "I suppose that any father would feel that way, really..."
With that, a sudden feeling of loneliness and longing for her own father washes over her and the tears welling in her eyes are released, running down her cheeks.
As Imperia looks back at the stairs, she hears the sound of unsteady footsteps approaching.
"...*yawn* What's going on?"
Cawthorne's sudden rush of frenzied anger disappears in a brief flash of inexplicable resentment as Khardan fells Lorrimor's corpse. "I.. I apologize for my unseemly outburst," he whispers hoarsely as Lord Bramwell scoops up the corpse. "I must get dressed." He hurries back to his room to properly dress himself.
What was that all about? He glances at his suit from the day prior and instantly dismisses it as far too soiled to be wearable. Obviously the day's events have weighed much more heavily upon me than I realized. To make such a scene, even under the circumstances - I pray that nothing of Professor Lorrimor remains within his corpse, lest he witness the shamefulness of my behaviour! Through the skill of habit he lays out his semi-formal attire and begins dressing as efficiently as possible without sparing the process a thought. The professor summoning me here in his will is a test of what I've become, not only through my studies in Lepidstadt, but through my upbringing as well. By Abadar, what would father think?!
This a test of my morals, my character. A test I must not fail. He finishes tying his cravate and runs his hands over his head, smoothing out his feathers. He looks over his discarded nightshirt with a critical eye. I should really get a more seemly set of nightclothes; such grubby attire serves only to inspire one to act in a similarly uncouth manner.
The doctor takes a deep breath then steps out of his room, only to hear Kendra from the stairs.
"...*yawn* What's going on?"
Devils take me! I do hope they've done away with the body! Rushing towards the stairs, Cawthorne calls out. "Miss Lorrimor? Miss Lorrimor? I say, where are you, Miss Lorrimor? I have the most urgent matter to discuss!"
Imperia gives the young woman a pat on the shoulder. "You are right. It's a good thing we were here. Kendra did not need to face this."
What a terrible thing. Why did someone do this? It's upset every one here. That's probably the point. Upset to what end? They have what they wanted from the prison, and the books are safe in the library."
When she hears Kendra start down the hallway.
"Falina can you assist Dr. Cawthorne in getting Kendra back to bed? We will meet you outside."
"My lord," says Khardan gently, making way for Bramwell to take the Professor's body out of the house and using his own intimidating bulk to block any view of the proceedings.
A groggy Kendra meets Dr. Cawthorne at the top of the stairs, her hair in disarray and her blue dressing gown wrinkled. "Doctor? What is it?"
"...and Khardan?"
Cawthorne's mind races. "It's... it's regarding your father's will. Yes, the will. I wanted you to know that though, to my shame, I missed the reading of his will, I fully plan to abide by his final requests, not only in regards to your own personal safety but also to that of his books; that is to say, once we've reconciled the difficulties here in Ravengro - matters which we will reconcile, worry not - once done, I will be accompanying the others to Lepidstadt to ensure the proper consignment of those volumes he wished delivered." The doctor takes a long draw of breath in through his nostrils before continuing, warming to one of his favorite subjects.
"So not to worry, Miss Lorrimor. Doctor Audubon Cawthorne is your servant in these matters. If you have any questions regarding my qualifications, or wish to review my list of references..?" He reaches into a vest pocket and retrieves a carefully folded piece of paper, proferring it to Kendra. "I assure they are all in order and of the highest caliber. Indeed - your late father is included among them."
Imperia follows Bramwell and Khardan out of the house. She gives a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that Kendra did not see the body.
Filiana waits a little behind the Doctor as he talks to Kendra, hoping to see his rapid spiel have the desired effect of allaying Kendra's confusion and sending her back to bed.
What can I say if he can't convince her? I don't know, I don't know. It's hard enough to think of things to say to her in the middle of the day. But now? In the dark of the night, and while your new companions are walking away from her house, carrying her father's dead body... oh, but I am no good at this...
Kendra blinks her eyes and looks over the papers Dr. Cawthorne presents to her.
"...er, no, Dr. Cawthorne, everything seems to be in order--" She glances up in time to see a glimpse of something over Khardan's & Imperia's shoulders.
"Imperia? Khardan? I heard a racket downstairs--what happened?"
"Keep going." She hisses at Khardan. Imperia turns with a tight smile. "Just a drunk local. We'll take him back to the inn, and return shortly."