rounds stunned
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Saved
rounds stunned
The colored sand explodes in a vibrant rainbow, knocking four of the angry townsfolk unconscious instantly, their faces thick with various colors of sand. The fifth towns person in the burst just barely raises his hand to cover his eyes, shakes his head quickly and remains standing.
buried in the same place as their kin? Necromancy? What's going on here?
"Kendra do you know these people? Are these men local?
All I want to do right now is kill these men, to have the gall to dishonor the Professor like this... but I clearly don't have all the information, and I can't in right consciousness kill a local defending their family's burial place.
Though I am sure that their accusations are unwarranted, I could scarce to think what I would do if someone tried to do what they are proposing we are doing near my father's burial.
Depending on Kendra's Answer:
"I do not not want to cause unnecessary bloodshed, however, I will defend the Professor, and his right to a proper burial."
Ezebelle steps in front of the coffin and enters a fighting stance.
"This is not the time nor the place to do this! This will not go unpunished."
(edit:Grammar)
"They are locals, but stubborn ones!" Kendra says.
Seeing that diplomacy has failed, Utho does his shift as mentioned before. [b]"I warned you."[b] He calls out to the ringleader of this group of miscreants, his voice deeper, gravelly; more growl than anything. He runs at the Townie still standing.
That towns person's face lights in horror as you bound towards him and he stumbles, but deftly to your right, directly into Ezebelle's arm's reach.
Ezebelle's fist connects with the left side of his head before he can turn to face her and he drops to the ground with a thud, sending up a small scattering of leaves.
The final hostile towns person moves in behind his frantic and now unconscious comrade and slaps at Utho with the blunt side of his shovel, shouting "A beast!"
miss
Utho ducks with instinctual ease underneath the swinging shovel.
Behind them the remaining mob begins to scatter, both in terror and disarray, including their apparent leader. They flee in all directions, bounding over grave sites out into the Restlands beyond your sight, or north over the low wall into the moorlands beyond.
Only one remains conscious and although his weapon has been swung, his resolve seems to be dwindling.
Cassiel can't help but smile as the other farmers turn and run like the hells themselves tried to swallow them whole. He locks eyes with the one remaining villager who is apparently stupid enough to remain behind.
He snaps his fingers while clutching his holy symbol of Sarenrae, and his hand becomes engulfed in flame. He leans forward with a cocky smirk on his face.
"In case you haven't noticed, this is the part where you s**t yourself and run."
"N-n-noo! Please stop! I surrender." The last remaining towns person falls to his knees and drops his shovel. "I'll go. I don't care where you b-bury him." The man is nearly in tears.
"You'll do more than go," comes a voice from beyond the unconscious villagers, further down the path.
A man approaches with a few other mourners in tow. He appears to be quite old with long bushy white eyebrows, pale curled, raisin-like skin, disproportionately large ears and a chin that curls up to a mouth that seems to be chewing in on itself. His eyes are a piercing frosted blue. he wears a black robe with a high black collar.
Behind him are:
A large, broad shouldered man with a bushy brown mustache, a receding head of hair, a bulbous nose and a slight pink tint to his face. He wears a black coat over a stained white shirt. Alongside this man is a small version of himself, but with a fuller head of hair, thinner (much) mustache and without the pink tint to his face.
Another large man with a thin mustache and goatee, slicked back black hair with long sideburns, a crooked nose and fleshy lazy eyelids. He wears a fine black suit that has seen much use.
An attractive middle aged woman with long black hair held back in a bun. Her face is thin and solemn. She wears a black and midnight blue dress.
Finally the fifth man is old and suited as well, but in a dark brown suit and one that is relatively new. He is also solemn and visibly distraught. His face is boney and he wears a small pair of glasses on his nose. He is tall with lanky features and quite dashing.
The man who spoke originally reaches your party and looks down with disappointment on the unconscious men on the ground. He then looks over to the conscious one.
"You will be reporting yourself to Sherriff Caeller right away. And you'll be identifying your friends as well. How dare you disrespect the dead. Be gone." And with that the last man stands, seems to be holding his trousers in shame, and scampers away to the south.
"Now" The old man, clearly a priest of some kind, begins again."My dear Kendra. I'm terribly sorry. What has happened? And these must be the friends of your father that you spoke of, yes?"
Kendra composes herself and says "Indeed. Those men were saying that... They called him a Necromancer, Father." She nearly chokes on the word 'Necromancer'.
Cassiel watches the terrified villager go, then dismisses the flames in his hand with a wave. He walks over to the priest, his face having lost its cocky smile in favor of a solemn look.
"Indeed, Father. My name is Cassiel. Cassiel Hawke. I studied under Professor Lorrimor, and I wished to pay my respects."
He holds his hand out, offering a handshake. "May I ask who you are? And who the rest of these guests are?" Cassiel briefly looks over to the rest of the funeral guests.
Ezra moves to the villager who had been hit in the head by Ezebelle, and checks his injuries.
Once the man is mostly on his feet, Ezra moves to the priest as well, curtseying politely in front of the holy man, she gingerly offers her card,
"Hello, My Name is Ezra Savet."
"I am Deaf. I can neither Hear nor Speak."
Edwyn lets out a sigh of palpable relief when the remaining villager voices his surrender. However, it is only when the priest arrives with the mourners that he releases his death grip on the amulet bearing Pharasma's holy sign.
"I'm Edwyn V-varro," he says to the priest, as well as the thankfully passive funeral guests. The question of whether the Professor was truly a necromancer nags at his mind, but after a quick glance at Kendra, he decides asking. "The Professor was my p-patron while I was at the Academy."
Cassiel nods at Edwyn, a smile on his lips.
"By the way, well done with the light show."
He turns his attention back to the funeral procession, his smile fading.
Her angry slightly sated by the unfortunate villager that walked into her fist Ezebelle looks down at the unconscious men at the frail man's feet.
okay, that was unexpected. Little man has apparently got some fight in him.
Surveying the rest of the scene she looks over at Cassiel making his introductions she shakes her head a little.
Cassiel overly dramatic as always. Though effective...as always.
Ezebelle then marches over to the new group of people that Cassiel and the strange woman are talking too.
"My name is Ezebelle Thesun. I as well studied under Professor Lorrimor. What those men did tonight was unconscionable and deserves more then a slap on the wrist. I'm expecting you to ensure that the sheriff is indeed brought into these manners." she demands, directing it at no one in particular within the group.
Satisfied in her introduction Ezebelle walks back to the coffin, and begins inspecting it, ensuring no damage was done to it during the altercation.
.
Once she i comfortable that no one is about to arrest her, Ezra returns to her mount, retrieving her spear as she does so, and resumes her position at the back of the procession.
Edwyn's mouth just barely crooks into a wan smile. "J-just a trick I picked up from a colleague. It usually d-doesn't work that well."
He looks to the victims of his spell, not particularly proud of he did, but glad that he had managed to resolve the situation without resorting to something more extreme. Not that he could he could cause them to burst into flames, or anything.
Utho, unconvinced that the threat is over, remains in his bestial form. "Utho, paladin of Iomedae at your service." he growls briefly, but his eyes are following the back of the ringleader of the thugs that stopped their processsion.
"It is good to meet all of you. It is clear that the Late Petros Lorrimor made the most courageous friends. I thank you for driving off those interlopers. Such disrespect from those men is astonishing, but these are strange times and sad ones too. The Sheriff will give them a just punishment, I will make certain." He sends a comforting nod to Kendra who's face has returned to it's state when you first saw her, red and puffy and on the brink of tears.
"These are the other towns folk that came out to see that Petros' physical form was given it's proper respects. Proper introductions will have to wait until after the ceremony, if you do not mind."
Two of the group behind the priest walk over to assist in carrying the coffin; the large round-nosed man and his son who, although probably not much more than ten years of age, is large enough to be a pallbearer.
The young round-nosed boy seems startled by the appearance of the wolfblooded one. He cautiously walks around you to the coffin. The others send cautious glances, but none are outwardly offended, since you've proven yourself to be at least somewhat in their favor.
Ezra smiles to herself noticing the small victory, gaining some trust, or at least respect, the locals. Once the party is back in place, Ezra again lights her spear and moves into rear guard position for the procession.
You all resume your positions as pallbearers and lift the coffin. The priest leads you all down the path, the rest of the group following behind with Ezra and Edwyn.
The procession completes the walk to the grave site, where two gravediggers stand, heads bowed.
Their trousers and coats hanging on their bodies like forgotten flags. A light rain begins to fall and the birds wheeling above seek shelter. A few birds remain in a nearby tree and sound a simple elegy.
The coffin is brought to a deep rectangular hole crowned with a gravestone. Inscribed on the stone is:
Petros Lorrimor
'The past is everything, when the future is nothing'
Teacher, Scholar, Friend, Father
The gravediggers take the coffin from the pallbearers and begin to lower it into the ground. Everyone makes a semi-circle around the southern end of the grave and bows their heads and closes their eyes.
The Priest begins:
"Tragic is the day that our elders let sail into the night before us never to return. Awash on on the dark river, they have lost our final moment to recount to them their importance to us, as if to shelter them from that inescapable void of death. We gather here to make our case to the Lady of Graves: that this soul is worthy of peace."
Kendra raises her head and clears her throat politely and begins, her words dotted with small sniffles and coated with sorrow. "The first time I traveled with my father to Lepidstadt we rode in a horse drawn buggy with a hole in the roof. He was applying for a position there and finances were grim. It was raining heavily and the rain was coming in through the hole, but father took the seat underneath the hole so that I could sit on the dry half of the riding chamber. He looked so silly, a well dressed professor-to-be soaked to the bone, his hair stuck to the front of his face. He just kept smiling and asking me questions, quizing not only me, but himself about his work so he could be sharper for the interview. He caught a sickness and had the do the interview with a hot water bladder on his head." A smile breaks through and she lets out a small laugh through the phlegm in her throat. "He always put me first."
"If any others have any stories to recount, the Lady of Graves, and us, would gladly hear them." The priest says.
As the rain begins to come down, Cassiel puts his red coat on properly to keep himself dry. Listening to Kendra's story brings a small chuckle to his face.
Yep. Sounds like the professor I once knew.
He steps forward after the priest finishes, taking his hat off, heedless of the rain. His short, messy black hair starts becoming matted to his head from the rain.
"If there was ever a person I regret not spending more time with, Petros Lorrimor was him. He was, by all rights, a man of great moral character with an inquisitive mind and a passion for knowledge unrivalled by anyone I have seen or likely will see."
Cassiel pauses, collecting himself before continuing. "I can honestly say that I wish our first meeting was under more favorable circumstances—the day I first met Petros was a day when I was being attacked by zombies while I was on the road to Caliphas. Were it not for his intervention, and the subsequent arrival of Sir Utho of Caliphas--"He glances over at Utho. "--I would have been dead. He offered to take me on as a student, to help me learn how to more effectively combat the undead… filth… that plagues the countryside of Ustalav even today."
As Cassiel continues, he begins to sound increasingly choked up. "How could I say no? How could I possibly have passed on such an opportunity to learn? It was with pleasure that I followed his lectures, attended his classes, and got to know his other students. Petros was not only a brilliant man, but a determined one. I still fondly remember the days we’d spend after his lectures together, discussing everything from local gossip to the very nature of morality itself over a pot of tea."
Cassiel sniffs. "He was a great debater: he went out of his way to research both sides of a topic before a discussion. I suppose it also helped that he was one of a select number of people in his classes who found my jokes funny." He says with a small smile at Ezebelle.
It passes quickly, however. Water begins to run down his face. It is uncertain whether it's raindrops or tears. "Petros was a fine man, taken far too soon from this life. With his passing, not only will the field of academia suffer for it, but so will every person whose life he touched. One of Golarion’s most brilliant minds… taken too soon."
He looks over to the grave. "You will be missed, Professor."
"More than I can possibly say."
With that, Cassiel takes a shuddering breath and puts his hat back on. As he resumes his place amongst the procession, he raises a gloved hand to wipe his face.
Utho nods in acknowledgement when Cassiel manages after the fight. "I regret to say that that day was my only meet with the professor. After that, we wrote back and forth just a bit. He was interested in my... condition."
Utho still stands in his pseudo-lycanthropic form. While this makes him uncomfortable around so many people (and possibly smelling like a wet dog, at the moment), he feels that there may be another attempt to crash the funeral.
Ezra waits politely for the others to finish. Once the majority of the others have left, she approaches and lays a small bit of parchment reading "Please forgive" on the casket before moving next to professor's daughter.
In an overly loud, raspy, unpracticed voice, the masked woman begins, "I HaVe NOT SpoKen ALouD SinCe I LOsT mY HeaRiNG So PleASe BeAr WITh my SaD ATTemPT."
"MaNY YeARs AGO I FaiLED thIS WonDERful MaN Due To MY Own ArRoGANce. I HaVE MuCH TO AttONe FOR. FoR Now All I CaN SaY Is I Am heARTfully SsSoRrY."
Exhausted by the effort, the gnome moves back to her mount to pray in silence.
Ezebelle stands near the back of the group. The light rain a welcome relief, masking the tears cascading down her face. Her stern disposition finally breaking to the flood of emotions.
Damn it Cassiel, you were always better at the speeches.
Hearing the end of Ezra's eulogy Ezebelle takes a deep breath, preparing herself to speak. Stepping up to the edge of the gravesite, Ezebelle gazes down at the coffin, lost in her own world.
"Petros, words will never be adequate to say what you meant to me." Ezebelle whispers through tears.
"You were my teacher, my friend, and... my salvation. When I arrived on campus so many years ago, I was lost, my world torn asunder. My father killed, my home a terrifying nightmare, and my mind fractured by grief and anger.
You saw a confused, and desperate girl and offered her a new place. You stood patiently by, always waiting, always there when I needed you. You had every answer, the solutions to questions I didn’t even know I had. It was through you that I finally came to accept what had happened, and it was you who helped me overcome the grief and anger that had invaded every aspect of my life."
Ezebelle takes another deep breath in, collecting herself. She gazes at Cassiel for a moment, a small smile on her lips before gazing back down into the grave.
"It wasn't always easy going, and we most certaintly didn't always get along, but the moments that I had with you are among the best in my life."
Ezebelle reaches behind her head, unclasping a necklace hidden by hair and armor. The necklace appears to be a single sharp tooth, hung from a fraying cord.
”A tooth from the final hunt I had with my father. I have worn it since the day of his death, to remind myself that the world was an evil and dangerous place. I realize now, that I wear it simply due to habit. Thank you Professor, you helped me chase the evil and despair from my life. You will never be forgotten."
With those final words Ezebelle releases the necklace from her grasp letting it fall into the grave. After a long silence she finally lifts her head and retreats from the edge, raising a hand to wipe the tears from her face, her stern facade returning.
"I..." Edwyn inhales sharply, interrupting his abrupt start. Naturally, he was not entirely certain of what to say. He knew that the time to say farewell would come, but he never did have a way with words. Not like the Professor did. But... that's what it really comes down to, isn't it? Taking another deep breath, he starts.
"I've n-never had a way with w-words like you did, Professor. B-but I always aspired to be just like you. Perhaps it was just by ch-chance that we met, but sometimes I w-wonder if it was fate. You always gave me your support, even when others tried to v-vilify me. You taught me s-so many things... and I am sure there were even more. But I've already learned your greatest lesson - it is thanks to you that I can stand by my beliefs without fear."
Bowing his head, he suddenly exhales loudly, looking exhausted. The lines on his face aged him beyond his years. Still, he does not cry. Instead, he adds in a quieter voice:
"I hope that we one day meet again."
Cassiel puts a hand on Ezebelle's shoulder as she returns. He listens to Utho's and Ezra's eulogies, pulling his coat tighter around himself as a cold breeze blows through the funeral.
Edwyn's eulogy causes Cassiel to become pensive.
Why would anyone hate him? He probably couldn't hurt anyone if he tried. At worst, he'd make frowny faces at them.
Noticing the holy symbol of Pharasma around Edwyn's neck, he fingers his own holy symbol of Sarenrae with a trembling hand.
Oh, that's probably why.
Once everyone has taken their chance to speak about the Professor, the gnome makes a silent lap, taking each speaker's hand in her own, and squeezes gently, hugging their hand between her own and her cheek.
Ezebelle feels Cassiel's welcome condolences but doesn't react as he touches her shoulder.
Thank you Cassiel, but I have already shown too much today. Death and loss should not faze me like it did today. In the past the loss of the professor would not have brought me to tears. Something has changed and I must figure out what is wrong with me.
As you give your speeches, Kendra is crying quietly into a handkerchief in her hand. She looks up every few moments to listen intently to your words.
The crowd is comforted by your stories and they seem to absolve you of the typical reluctance towards strangers. A few of the crowd place small items, flowers and such, onto the grave and after everyone is finished, it is lowered into the ground. The priest guides everyone to the foot of the path:
"Now we leave the body to rest in peace." Says the priest.
Kendra approaches the lot of you, appearing to have regained much of her composure. "Thank you all again for coming. It's good to hear the evidence of my father's friendships and inspiration. Really, it's no small comfort." She turns back towards the grave, but turns away quickly and begins again, as if to distract herself "I know it's mundane, but we should go about sorting out the paperwork. My father left a considerable will and it is important that we have a town official oversee it's reading. Then maybe I can start to move on." She chokes up a little at those last words.
The small funeral crowd begins to thin away as, one at a time, they head off down the south path, through the Restlands and out into the moorlands beyond. You can see the skyline of Ravengro brimming the horizon. The rain continues, but the sky brightens ever so slightly.
"If it is pleasing to you, Kendra, we should convene at your house. I have a few small matters to attend to in the mean time, but I can be there by, shall we say, two-o-clock?" The large man with a goatee, you saw trailing the priest earlier approaches Kendra with a wide, lumbering waddle. He is wearing a fine black suit that has seen much use, a black ascot at his neck. His eyes seem to be barely holding open, perhaps due to the mass of his eyelids, and his nose is crooked and he shifts it uncomfortably. "Ah do forgive me. I am Vashian Hearthmount or Councilman Hearthmount if you will. You must be friends of the deceased." His words are well enunciated, but his voice is garbled slightly by his fleshly throat.
"W-will...?" Edwyn asks inquisitively, needlessly surprised by the prospective. I suppose I should have suspected...of course someone as prominent as the Professor would have one. Over-thinking things as usual, it strikes him that saying the word aloud might have been insensitive. Not meaning to get the wrong idea across, he adds, "N-not that I... I mean..." Perhaps he was better off not saying anything at all.
"Yes. It mentions you. Those of you who considered him friend enough to attend his funeral. Would you all come to hear it read?" Kendra asks, the look of need in her eyes.
Ezra nods solemnly, and takes up position next to Kendra, offering her a steady shoulder if necessary as if to say "I am here for anything you need at all . . . "
What would she need a mask for? And what did she do to need it?
His eyes have stopped being red and puffy for the time being. Perhaps he's managed to get himself together.
At the mention of a will, Cassiel gives only a subdued nod. The raindrops splashing on his coat and hat ring in his ears.
"Lead on." He says.
"Of course I will come to the reading. Better to get this sad business done as quickly as possible." Ezebelle states.
It must be the funeral making me emotional. Better to get everything over and done with as quickly as possible.
"If it isn't to much of an imposition we could perhaps head to your house now Kendra? The professor was a very good friend, and it would be appropriate to learn a little bit more about the people who were close enough to him to have been mentioned in his will. We could do this while waiting on the Councilman." Ezebelle asks, looking between Edwyn, Utho, and Ezra.
I still don't know who these people are. One is riding a giant cat (and is rather unnerving), one became...something unnatural, and one just knocked out 4 people with some funny looking sand. It would be worthwhile to find out if any them could pose a risk to any of the families in town.
"Of course. We can head to my father's house, where I live. I can answer any questions you might have and you are free to get to know each other. I had assumed that you were already acquainted, but I suppose that was a foolish assumption. It's likely that you don't know each other much at all." Kendra says. She turns to Councilman Hearthmount. "Two-o-clock is fine, councilman. Thank you."
"Indeed," Hearthmount says and turns to the group. "It would serve you well to disclose your plans as visitors at that time as well. We do not have strict rules regarding staying in Ravengro, but we do enjoy open flow of information with our visitors, if possible." He turns back to Kendra, "Miss Lorrimor," he bows slightly, eyes closing, then turns and leaves down the south path.
The priest approaches and puts his hand on Kendra's shoulder and says something quietly.
Ezebelle
Cassiel
Ezra autofail
Edwyn
Utho
The priest nods to the rest of you and heads off towards town.
Kendra is looking blankly at the ground. She is deep in thought for a few moments, her eyes shining with tears. She turns to you all, holding them back. "We can head back now. Follow me."
Cassiel follows without a word.
The path heads east for a hundred feet or so before turning bending to the south. At the bend, north of the pathway, is a freestanding granite crypt, the roof of which is decorated with pair of leering gargoyle statues. A single stone door with a rusty lock sits at the south facade.
The path to the south leads through more grave yards and past another set of stone mausoleums. They are simply decorated, without stone gargoyles. Kendra leads you out through the opening in the low stone wall. The path retains its well walked, packed dirt surface as it heads out through the heath. The land to the sides of the path is rough and covered with low pale green plants and grass and uneven knobs of dirt and rocks. Trees are spread throughout and hang leafless and depressed, having gathered rain. The dead leaves are packed into a wet layer across the earth surrounding each tree. Their colors are various browns, oranges and reds.
The land moves gradually downwards towards Ravengro, which you can see edging it's way into view before you. Outlaying farms are scattered about a river. On the right side of the river (the west) is a less densely structured area with plenty of growing fields, many lying dormant for the cold season. A prominent temple with a single belfry adorns this area. On the other side (the east side) sits many more buildings and, consequently, less growing fields.
The inner town of Ravengro contains houses which are are knit closely together and exhibit the style most common in Ustalav, with a roof point for each small house, and with many floors stacked, often with the upper floors being larger, and therefore hanging over the lower ones. The facades are white and the supporting beams, corners and buttresses are a dark wooden brown.
About two hundred meters from the outer limit of the town the road turns into rough gravel.
The sky darkens and the rain picks up and Kendra produces an dark grey umbrella and holds it over her head, the rain splattering off of it. "It's not much further now."
Leading you down the path, over a covered bridge crossing the river, past a few farm steads and into a more densely built area, Kendra has brought you to Ravengro. The main street is crowded by buildings burgeoning onto them, some as tall as three or four stories. A set of posting poles adorns the entrance of the main street into a circular plaza. In the center of the plaza is a grassy patch with a gazebo at the center. Based on the presence of a few large buildings adorned with signage, this is the center of town. The signs are difficult to read, but you take one to be a general store and another to be a tavern. The main road branches once to the west and then continues south.
The rain continues. The air is slightly warmer in tough and a fog gathers near the ground.
"This is the town center," Kendra says. "But you'll have to take a look around later when the weather clears. C'mon."
Heading out of the town center, the main road continues on much like it entered the town, with dense buildings crowding the street, before they break away into the same style farms and small houses as the northern side of town. Kendra brings you to the door step of one such house, two stories, two windows on each, with a wooden shingled roof. On the side there is a small horse stall and off to the left side you can see a well with a water drawing mechanism. Kendra produces a set of keys from her person and unlocks the large wooden door.
Inside the house, the rooms are cluttered with bookshelves. In the center is a table, which sits near a fireplace on the far wall, inside of which is a large cooking pot. A desk is on the right wall and on the left is a doorway into another room, apparently crowded with bookshelves as well.
"Please, make yourselves at ease," Kendra says and gestures towards the table, sitting around which are five chairs. "Hang your clothes by the fire if you wish. I'll get us some drinks." She hurries off into another room, leaving your group alone, but considerably more comfortable, and dry. The room is roughly twenty feet by twenty feet and the ceilings are about twelve feet high. Out the window you can see the rain is steady.
Cassiel makes sure to wipe his feet before entering the house. He gratefully hangs his coat and hat by the fire to dry, then starts running his fingers through his hair, trying to squeeze some of the rain out.
He looks the rest of the guests over while he does so, before turning his attention back to the warmth of the fire. He removes his gloves and holds his hands out to the fire to warm them. He doesn't yet appear to be in a particularly talkative mood.
All along the way, Edwyn does not speak a word, for fear of uttering something foolish and unnecessary. The sobering, yet familiar silence put his mind to ease somewhat, though the myriad of ideas that usually ran through his head still moved with a sluggish torpor. He seems almost oblivious to the rain, not even bothering to pull his hood over his head. Even the various sights throughout Ravengro do not grab his attention; it is only when the group arrives at the Lorrimor residence does he grow around of his surroundings. As though he had just woken up from a nap.
The first thing he seems to notice are the bookshelves. At Kendra's behest, slips off his cloak and hangs it by the fire. For a moment he seems to have a second thought, starting to weave his fingers through the air whilst murmuring quietly, only to stop abruptly. That spell is not even in my mind... am I that out of touch today?
Once inside and comfortable, Utho returns to his human form. He approaches Kendra. "Why would I be in his will? I barely knew him? I do not understand this."
Ezebelle Unstraps her Sword and warhammer, placing them gingerly by the door, taking a moment to touch the blade and head of the weapons respectively before moving to the table and taking a seat there. She seems completely unfazed by the water covering her and her armor. Taking a moment to look around the living room and at the various bookshelves, she raises an eyebrow curiously.
That is alot of books. More then one person could possibly need. Perhaps Kendra takes after her father...
Her interest in the books waning she turns and begins to watch her fellow guests. Trying to gauge them, now that they are in a more controlled environment.
Having dried himself off enough, Cassiel turns back to the rest of the people in the room. His grey, gold-trimmed armor at once absorbs light from the fire and reflects it.
"Quite cozy, don't you think?"
Cassiel sets the rest of his equipment down by the fireplace to dry: a longbow, a quiver of arrows, and a leather backpack. He rummages around in his backpack, producing a small paperback book with Sarenrae's symbol on it before settling down in a chair to read. Somehow, the book isn't wet.
Kendra returns from the adjacent room with a glass decanter full of a deep purple liquid as well as multiple glasses of various shapes; some are wine glasses, some are not. She heeds Utho as he asks his question and responds "Well you are not named specifically. None of you are. My father asked that those of his friends responding to the letter I sent be brought to the reading of the will. It would seem he has something he wishes to give you, or a favor to ask. Perhaps both."
Kendra sets the glasses down on the table, pulls the stopper from the decanter and fills each glass half way. She returns the stopper, sets the decanter down and lifts one of the wine glasses straight to her mouth. She drinks deeply for a moment and then lowers the glasses, letting out a sigh.
"Please, if any of you would like some wine, help yourselves." She gestures at the glasses.
The time of day is sometime after noon. The councilman will be arriving around two- in roughly an hour.
Cassiel briefly arches an eyebrow at Kendra before he takes one of the wine glasses and sniffs the wine. He swirls it around in the glass before taking a sip.
You're not supposed to just knock it back like a shot.
...but you know what? I'll let it pass. Considering what you've had to go through, you'd need a drink or two.
"So... how are the rest of you doing?" He asks, looking at Utho, Edwyn, Ezra & Ezebelle.
Ezebelle leans forward, still dripping water slightly and lifts one of the glasses. She takes a prolonged drink, and then settles back into her chair.
She gazes at Cassiel for a fleeting moment.
"As well as I can under the circumstances." Ezebelle remarks off-handely, still absorbed by her new companions.
I can guess well enough how the frail man may know Petros' but the wolf ... I have never seen him before and he mentioned he barely knew the professor.
"Utho?" Ezebelle asks, interrupting Cassiel's open ended question to the rest of the group.
"You said you barely knew the professor. What did you mean? How did you know Petros?"
Utho grunts in response to Cassiel's question as he warms himself by the fire. When Ezebelle asks her question, he doesn't turn to her, but continues staring into the flames as he responds. His head jerks in Cassiel's direction. "He knows. Cassiel and Petros were fighting some undead. I hunt undead, and ran upon them. I stepped in and used my... abilities to help out." he pauses for a moment . "Petros found my condition interesting. He wrote to me off and one with questions. That was it. I only met him the once."