lazulin's Carrion Crown (Inactive)

Game Master lazulin

Part One: The Haunting of Harrowstone

"Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –"

Deep in the county Canterwall, a little closer to the Hold of Belken than most would rather travel, just by the shores of Lake Lias, lies the town of Ravengro. Once, its industry mostly centered on servicing the prison of Harrowstone--but that place has long since been abandoned since a great fire ravaged its halls, and now the townsfolk survive mostly by farming and fishing, the tragedies that once visited that place long since forgotten.

Isolated and unimportant as it is, Ravengro rarely receives visitors. But today, it seems, is an exception, for four travelers have arrived in town and made their way to the home of the late Professor Petros Lorrimor. As they walk through the town, even the more mundane looking of their number catches sight of the occasional lingering glance or overhears mutterings about "necromancers" and "demonalotry", and more than one shop immediately closes its doors at the sight of them. A strange pallor seems to cling to everything in the town--the sky is gray, covered by clouds that seem to be eternally threatening a storm that will not come.

There is one soul in the town who does not turn her face from the travelers. As they reach the Lorrimor Place, a rather unassuming home past the town center, they see a woman standing at the door, wearing a plain black dress and a mourning veil, her hair pinned back behind her head, and tears running down her face. As she sees them, she does her best to wipe away the tears and straighten her back before stepping down from the porch to greet them.

"You received my letter," she says, her voice soft. "I am glad you were able to make it. I only wish we all could have met under happier circumstances.

You have all arrived at the Lorrimor Place in Ravengro; take this opportunity to introduce yourselves to each other and to Kendra. Throughout this part of the adventure, you all will have an opportunity to build "Trust" with the town of Ravengro, which has various effects on your interactions with the townsfolk. As you are all newly arrived in Ravengro and are a rather strange and motley crew, your trust score currently stands at 20, which means you are disliked.

The cold Ustalavian air cuts through through the heavy clothes that Nasrin is wearing. Even the sky is sad today. She is not wearing the ritual tabard of the Dawnflower Cult, since its bright colors would clash with the occasion, but the twin sacred blades of Qadira camp embroidered on her dark coat.
Lorrimor Place should be this way, according to the letter. She walks cautiously through the streets towards the center, feeling the stares of the townfolk. Poor Professor. He traveled all his life, saw most of Golarion and ended up dying in such a dismal place, under an overcast sky, surrounded by unfriendly peasants. He deserved better.
Flower of Dawn, please guide his soul to your embrace. Flame of the Morning, please shield him from harm. Healing Light, please help a good man in his final journey.
As she approaches Lorrimor Place, she is greeted by a mourning young woman.
"I assume you are Kendra." she says, holding the girl's hand between hers. "I am Nasrin Raissi, at your service. It was terrible to hear about your father, he was a kind, helpful man, and I will miss him terribly. Be sure that I will forever cherish his memory and feel free to ask me of anything in my power." She motions to put an arm across Kendra's shoulders, then stops. "Uh, I do not know your customs, would a hug be offensive?"

It is only by the grace of Cernunnos that Ilystria has made it to the town of Ravengro, she is certain. How Kendra's letter was even able to find her in the depths of the Shudderwood is a mystery, but clearly the Professor passed on more to his daughter than just his name. The little fey, dressed in leather armor dyed in the greens and browns of The Stag Lord, follows just behind the group of 'humans' she believes will lead her to the house of Petros Lorrimor. They do not belong in this colorless place either. Uncharacteristically for the winged creature, she makes her way through the dreary town on foot, the somber mood she's been in since receiving the letter all but leaving Ilystria without the will to fly. One of her hands is lost in the fur of the large black and grey wolf walking dutifully at her side, but the beast's calm demeanor proves that the gesture is not one of control, rather it seems as if she is drawing strength by his presence.

As they come upon the home of her departed friend, Ilystria gives her wolf companion a quiet command in Sylvan to stay put before approaching the grieving Kendra. Calling upon a reserve of inner strength, the fey flexes her plant-like wings for the first time in what feels like ages, hovering just far enough above ground that she can address Kendra properly. After the exchange between the two women, Ilystria flutters closer and introduces herself. "Kendra Lorrimor, I am Ilystria Leafheart, the fey your father has told you stories of," she says in her strange, musical voice. "The joy I feel in meeting you at long last is eclipsed only by the sadness I feel at your father's passing." Her eeriely blank eyes momentarily leave the woman's face, noting how few people seem to be present to see the Professor off. "I have not come too late, have I?"

A tall, wild-haired man walks through the streets of Ravengro, his collar turned up. Though he’s a larger man, he seems to be trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. This would work, if it weren’t for the grey wolf striding next to him. Romulus wouldn’t have brought Mara into town-he almost never does-but he feels that she should be at the funeral as well. After all, Mara was half of the reason why Professor Lorrimor’s funeral hadn’t been a few years ago. Rom looks around uneasily. He’s never been to Ravengro before, but he’s heard about the unfriendliness of the people from the town. As long as I just stay like this...they never have to know. It’ll just be like any old supply run. In and out, we’ll be back in the forest by nightfall.

As if sharing her partner’s fear, Mara whines piteously. Despite being raised by Romulus (in some ways, they’re like siblings), she hasn’t been in civilization very much. Rom absentmindedly scratches behind her ear. ”Easy, girl. We’re going to be fine.” It’s not clear who he’s trying to convince-the wolf, or himself.

As they turn the corner to the home of the Lorrimors, Romulus’s eyebrows jump up in shock. Sitting by the door is another wolf, something he wasn’t expecting to see. He looks at Mara-when he has to pretend to be human, she has to double as his eyes and ears. And nose. Who are you? Are you another werewolf? He prepares to draw his earthbreaker, but a happy yip from Mara startles him yet again. Mara pants happily, as if she knows the other wolf somehow. Romulus looks around, panic rising in his chest. If the wolf knows him, then someone else might...and if they saw him in the wrong form, his cover could be blown.

Rom spots a woman who could only be Kendra Lorrimor-her father had talked about her many times in their letters, oftentimes inviting Romulus and Mara to their home so that he could meet her. Rom had never taken him up on the offer, something that he regretted at this moment. And chatting to the woman…Oh boy, I think I recognize that fey...guess that’s where the other wolf came from. Really hope she doesn’t start asking me awkward questions. He approaches the two warily, signalling Mara to stand back. She goes over to the other wolf, panting merrily.

He speaks in a soft voice that seems at odds with his larger physique. ”Umm, excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt...you must be Kendra. I’m Romulus, your father was…” He swallows suddenly, tears springing to his eyes. ”He was a good friend of mine. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He glances at the fey, hoping she doesn't recognize him for what he actually is.

The dried ground cracks beneath his weighty boot fall as he travels north along the long road. It had been many days since he had diverted from his previous course to come north, to lay in the ground an old mentor. As he catches his first glimpse of the Ravengro, it begins to come back to him. The Professor had been a good man, a learned man, had he known the truth of my father? Were he still alive perhaps I could ask for his aid in casting off this horrid curse, but now, no chance at that. Still, to my respects.

Drawing nearer to the town, Mathias adjusts his cowl down further. When he had walked the streets of the village five summers past, he had been a handsome, athletic youth approaching his prime. More than a few lasses would sigh as he approached, yet never the one his heart yearned for. Kendra. She was several years his elder, and viewed him still as a boy, almost a little brother. He had hoped one day to return to Ravengro and win her affection, being a great hero. Instead he now returns with the horrid visage of a monster. Will she even recognize me?

As his thoughts come back to the moment, he realizes he has crossed a majority of the town and reached Lorrimor Place. Several travelers stand before the entrance, though he gives them little pause. Seeing the tears in Kendra's eyes, his heart goes straight back to so many years ago. Stepping through the others he reaches out one hand to hers as the other pulls back his cowl. "Hello, Kendra. It has been several years, and I have changed... a good deal. I am Mathias Gabriel, son of Ricard Gabriel, perhaps you recall the summer I spent with you and your father? I am truly sorry to hear of his passing, and am here to offer what condolences I may."

"Of course not," says Kendra, accepting Nasrin's embrace. "I hope that your journey was not to difficult. And that the townsfolk did not give you too much trouble when you arrived. Most of them have never even seen someone from Cheliax, let alone a Kelishite. And do not let anyone give you any grief over your religion. This is Ustalav, not Taldor, and Sarenrae is as much an enemy of undead as Pharasma is. I swear, the people here sometimes act as if all the other gods are conspiring together to raise the dead."

"Oh! Oh my," says Kendra as Ilystria approaches. Yes, my father had told me much about you. I am so glad the courier was able to find you. I'm not sure how she managed to do so--but that is no matter."[b] She pauses at Ilystria's question, wiping at the tearstains on her cheek. [b]"You are not too late. My father spent most of his time outside of Ravengro and he--was not very popular within it, I am afraid."

"You must be Romulus," says Kendra as the man reaches her door. "I thank you for your sympathy. He was a good man."

"Mathias!" says Kendra as Mathias approaches, her eyes lighting up just a little bit before going dark again. "Oh. Yes, of course. Well, you were just a child when you were here, after all. I am glad to see you again nevertheless."

"I--I believe this is everyone," she says, tears starting to flow down her face once again. "My father's coffin is already at the Restlands. The funeral will begin once we reach there--Father Grimburrow and the other mourners are waiting for us to begin the ceremony."

"I do have a favor I must ask, I am afraid. Because of my father's--reputation, there is no one other than myself to carry the coffin. If three of you could act as pallbearers--I would greatly appreciate it."

"I'd be honored. It's the least I could do."

Curious to see what Fenmaer could be yipping at, Ilystria turns to find the wolf straining to obey her command to stay put. An eager whine escapes him as he shuffles in place with the urge to greet the other wolf. The fey flits to the side in order to allow the newcomers room to offer condolences to Kendra, her gaze remaining fixed on Romulus all the while. A few feet away, Fenmaer reacquaints himself with the other wolf, alternating between nudging the other with his nose and nuzzling her. The odd behavior her wolf exhibits only serves to reinforce Ilystria's belief that she knows the man's animal companion. But the last time they had met, the she-wolf was in much more curious company. She remembers vividly the large, keenly aware wolf who seemed more content to stalk the edge of her camp while his packmate made friends with Fenmaer, no matter how the gathlain tried to entreat him to come nearer. After the introductions are made, the flighty fey, always more at peace in the company of animals than people, yearns to glide over to where the two wolves sit, yet she knows better than to detract from the task at hand. There will be time enough for reunions and making new acquaintances after we lay Petros to rest.

Not normally one to be so judgemental, Ilystria can't help but to form a negative opinion of the townsfolk at Kendra's answer. Perhaps it was for the best that he was not popular here. His bright spirit would have been wasted upon these humans. The fey noticeably deflates as Kendra asks her favor of them. "I would be honored to help bear your father to his final resting place, but I regret that I have not the strength to fulfill such a duty." Incredulous and not a little angered that there could be so few people willing to bear the coffin of a man who enriched so many, Ilystria cants her head quizzically at Kendra and asks, "His reputation? Your father was a fountain of wisdom and an inspiration to many. His cleverness was outmatched only by the compassion he showed to all he came across. Who could speak ill of him?

"Thank you, Kendra. Don't worry about the townfolks, I've been met with hostility from time to time, it will not be a problem." At least as long as I keep my temper in check. But still, she said undead... Could it be? A vision she had many years ago, in the desert of her homeland, pops in front of her inner eye, a vision of her facing against a horde of the creatures.

As the other people approach, she introduces herself, wondering at the variety of the group. Of course, Professor Lorrimor would be a magnet for the bizarre.
"Honored to meed you, Lady Leafheart. You are the first fae I meet in person."
"Well met, Romulus, my name is Nasrin Raissi." A man who walks a wolf like a pet? Curious. But maybe not as curious in Ustalav.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Gabriel." A planetouched, for sure, but he seems very ashamed of himself.
Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

After Kendra has spoken, Nasrin's eyebrows fly upwards as she joins Ilystria in voicing her disbelief.
"I agree wholeheartedly. Professor Lorrimor was unquestionably the most brilliant soul I have ever encountered, and yet he was as humble and kind as one could be. How would it be possible that the denizens of his own town would scorn him? Of course, I will carry him, but..." Her dark eyes flash with anger and she bites her lower lip as she gazes at the nearby houses. "But he deserved better."

A stoic smile spreads across Mathias' face. "I would be honored to assist the Professor in reaching his final resting place."

Turning to the others, he calmly speaks, "The people of this nation, and this town especially, are a superstitious lot. They suffered under the undead reign of the Whipering Tyrant for centuries, and now distrust any who seek knowledge of the undead, even those who fight and hunt them. It's sad, truly, for a hero resided among them for years, yet they viewed him with scorn. We will see the duty done, m'lady."

"The distinction of being the first of the fey whose acquaintance you have made is one I am pleased to have, Nasrin Raissi. Yet, I am no member of the Eldest's courts, and so deserve no such titles as 'Lady'. If it would not go against your customs to be so familiar, you may call me Ilystria, or Lily, as the Professor did," the gathlain says as she hovers about the woman's eye level, her smile at meeting another friendly human tempered by the solemn occasion.

Light green brows furrow at Mathias's explanation of Petro's reputation in the eyes of the villagers. "From the welcome we have been shown, I feel that these people are distrustful of a great deal more than those who seek knowledge. The world is painted with more than just one color, yet they are willfully blind to the beauty of our differences. By choosing to live mired in suspicion and anger, they resign themselves to a life without spirit." Shaking her head at the plight the people must have suffered in order to lose hope in the goodness others, Ilystria concurs with Mathias's sentiment, "It is sad, indeed."

”I am afraid it is so. My father spent most of his time away, and so they still regarded him as an outsider. And outsiders are always trouble in their eyes. The townsfolk have always loved their gossip but the last few years--it seems they will believe any hateful rumor that they hear. I suppose I can understand it, being so close to the Hold of Belkzen. I am glad that there are at least a few people who understand the good my father did in the world, at least,” says Kendra, wiping the tear stains from her cheeks. ”But we should be going. The funeral will begin soon, and Father Grimburrow is waiting.”

The second walk through the town sees less hateful stares than the first, if only because the streets seem abandoned--the shutters on the windows of houses are all closed tight and the doors to all the shops are shut. Kendra walks at the front of the group, looking straight ahead as she guides them north, to the town’s graveyard--the Restlands.

At the entrance of the graveyard waits a handful of mourners--they seem to be locals, for the most part--and Lorrimor’s coffin. Kendra and Mathias take the spots at the front of the coffin with Nasrin and Romulus behind them, and the four begin to march down the path to Lorrimor’s grave. The gravel road is narrow and the walk is slow, and everyone is quiet as they advance towards Lorrimor’s final resting place.

About halfway there, the grave not yet in sight, as the party turns around a hill, they find their path blocked--it seems the reason that the town seemed abandoned earlier is a dozen or so locals have gathered in the Restlands and are now blocking the funeral’s path. They are all armed with farming equipment, and by the look of it they are ready for a confrontation.

”That’s far enough,” says the man at the head of the crowd--he looks rather old, and is carrying a pitchfork and wearing a scowl on his face. ”We’ve been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him down river if you want, but you aren’t burying him here.”

”I don’t understand,” says Kendra, looking to the man. ”I’ve already arranged this with Father Grimburrow--the grave has already been dug--”

“Happy is the grave in which no wizard hath lain, and happy is the town whose wizards are all ashes,” hisses a woman standing behind the man, carrying a sickle. ”We don’t want a necromancer buried here! It’s an abomination!”

After calling Fenmaer to her side once more, Ilystria follows the solemn procession to the graveyard. Seeing the few mourners who've gathered to pay their respects warms her heart, although the sentiment is all too brief when she sees Kendra take position at her father's coffin. As the group begins to march towards Petros' grave, Ilystria quickly moves to the rear of the coffin, laying her hands on in a purely symbolic gesture and fluttering along as the four march.

At being stopped by the group of villagers, the fey is only able to listen to so much of their vitriol before she intervenes. "Enough!" Ilystria demands in a voice eeriely unbefitting of her small stature. Knowing that the Professor's body is in sure hands without her, she flies over to where the assembled group bars their path without a second thought. Hovering uncomfortably close to the man leading the hateful mob, the fey speaks, "You slander the legacy of a great man, and I will abide such insult no longer. You may not have had the privilege of knowing him as closely as we have, but I have no doubts you all knew him well enough to know he was no necromancer. Petros Lorrimor was a human of unparalleled cleverness, that much cannot be questioned. But his knowledge was only ever a means to help others, never to harm them." Looking back at the casket holding her dear friend, the fey's frame shudders with the intake of a shaky breath, the anger visibly draining from her to be replaced once more with a sense of loss.

"This is a day for mourning, and for reflecting on the good that this man has brought into this world," Ilystria states, one hand rising to indicate the coffin. "Not for anger or bloodshed. You will not deny my friend his rightful resting place, nor will you deny a daughter the right to bid goodbye to her father in peace. If you will not stand with us in memory of Petros Lorrimor, then stand aside."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Honored to be standing at the front of the coffin alongside Kendra, Mathias takes to the duty of carrying the coffin with the bearing of a solemn priest. Yet when the townsfolk appear, he slowly shakes his head in disbelief. I knew they were suspicious, but this? This is truly terrible. For Kendra, though, I will keep the peace.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Ravengro, Professor Lorrimor was an honored scholar who studied the horrors of the dark so as to most effectively hunt them, and keep the good people of this nation safe. Please, let him rest, and his daughter grieve, in peace. Moreover, would you deny that he be laid in the ground in accordance with the Lady of Graves' wishes? Would you truly stand before the dictates of Pharasma? Please, let us see this done."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

"I--well--" sputters the man as he attempts to answer Mathias and Ilystria. He looks to the rest of the crowd--but the anger has vanished from their faces, replaced by what seems to be looks of mild contrition.

"I suppose if Father Grimburrow has approved it, it must be alright," says the man. "He probably wouldn't be letting a necromancer be buried in the graveyard. We'll leave you folks be. For now."

The townsfolk, satisfied by the party's words, mostly disperse--and a few even join with the procession, following towards Lorrimor's grave. They soon arrive at the site of Lorrimor's burial, marked by an open grave and a severely wrinkled old man dressed in the garb of a Pharasman priest. Wordlessly, the party lowers Lorrimor's coffin into his grave, and then the priest begins to speak.

"As the Lady of Graves wills us to be born, so we must answer her call when she wills us to die. Our lives are at her leisure; none may refuse her. Dawn must give way to darkness, and spring to winter, for such is the will of Pharasma. Petros Lorrimor was one of this town's most notable children, and we will be lacking without him. Are there any present who will speak for him before we send him to the Great Beyond, where he will begin his journey to our Lady's waiting arms?"

You gain a point of trust so the town's attitude towards you is now neutral

As the locals stop the coffin, Nasrin is aghast. Blood rushes to her face, and for a second she entertains the thought of scaring the insolent peasants away with steel and fire. How dare they. HOW DARE THEY. Denying a good man his resting place would be bad enough, but doing so in front of his own daughter is unforgivable!
The burden of the coffin, however, keeps her temper from flaring. Not here, Nasrin. Do not dishonor the Professor and yourself with violence. Not at his funeral.

Her internal struggle against herself is interrupted as Lily and Mathias address the crowd, speaking with a quiet authority that makes the peasants' confidence waver. Well done, friends. Glad to see there's someone with more common sense than me.

As the old priest speaks, Nasrin steps forward, her hand clutching the holy symbol of Sarenrae on her chest.
"I met Professor Lorrimor in person for only eight months, and yet he managed to change my life. When he arrived I was crippled with doubt and afraid of the future. When he left, I was sure, steadfast and determined. He did not just speak about the quest for knowledge and self-betterment, he lived it, and his enthusiasm was contagious. He was an inspiration, someone who challenged you to be the best you can be, and I owe him a debt that can never be paid back."
She clasps her hands together, bows her head and closes her eyes before a short prayer.
"Pharasma, Mother of Souls, Sarenrae, Everlight, and you all deities who watch over mortals, please guide this friend and mentor in his last journey. May his sleep be gentle."

"Thank you, my child," says the priest as Nasrin finishes her speech. Now Kendra steps forward to address the crowd; she trembles for a moment but then straightens her back before speaking.

"My father was many things: a scholar, an adventurer, a diplomat, an explorer. It was he who first translated the Arodenite Fragment when it was discovered in Absalom. He helped unearth the Tomb of Akhmet in Osirion. His treatise on the origin of healing magic in Geb revolutionized the field. His accomplishments are many, but to me, he was one thing above all others: he was a good man. In every place he visited, he left a mark on people's lives, and I hope the presence of so many people from so many places here today proves that.

The world is a darker place with him gone. But I hope the light that he brought to each of us will still shine on."

With her speech concluded, Kendra returns to the crowd. The priest makes one final prayer to Pharasma, calling on her to guide the professor safely through the afterlife, and then the coffin is buried, deep beneath the ground.

As the funeral party disperses, Kendra approaches the four travellers, hoping to speak to them before they depart.

"Thank you all for coming. My father's will is to be read back at his home, and I believe you all may have been named in his estate. If you would accompany me back to his home, I would greatly appreciate it," she says. As she speaks, she bites at her lip, and you can tell she is still fighting to hold back her tears. "And--thank you for your help earlier. I do not know what I would have done had I not been able to bury my father today. I never thought he was so disliked that someone might try to stop his funeral."

Despite the town's cold demeanor earlier and the attempted blockade of the burial, the trip back to Kendra's home is uneventful. The town seems to have accepted that the outsiders are not here to cause trouble or raise the dead or whatever foul motives they had suspected, and the windows of homes are mostly unshuttered and the shop doors open again--though the streets are still fairly empty, even if that is only because of the cold chill blowing down with the wind.

There's a little bit of time before the barrister arrives; you can use this time to introduce yourselves and get to know one another. I will post the reading of the will tomorrow. Additionally, I still need Mathias and Romulus to introduce themselves in roll20 so I can assign their tokens.

Although Ilystria had certainly hoped for the best outcome to the confrontation, it is readily apparent from the look of surprise on her face that the villagers' reactions to her and Mathias's words was not the conclusion she had expected. Perhaps there is hope for this town, yet. Ilystria watches the proceedings, her heart growing heavy with every word spoken on Petros' behalf. Although she wishes to speak for her dearest friend, the grief she feels causes words to elude her. She is relieved to see that at least one among them can speak for the late Professor.

"That was a beautiful speech on Petros' behalf," the fey quietly tells the Kelish woman once she retakes her place among the others at the head of the crowd. There is a beat of silence afterwards as Ilystria considers her next words, then, "We will pay our debts to Petros by living our lives in a way that honors his memory." Ilystria lingers for a moment after the Professor's body is returned to the earth, finally able to find the words to bid her friend goodbye. "Hyvästi, vanhin ystäväni. Toukokuu löydät kaikki viisaus ja iloa seuraavassa elämässä, että olet jakanut kanssamme tässä yksi."

A few moments pass as the fey silently watches over the man's grave, then, wiping away the tears she's shed, she calls Fenmaer to her side and follows the others to Kendra's house.

"Thank you" Nasrin whispers to Ilystria "I've seen a fair share of funerals when I was an acolyte. But this is the first time it was a friend's." Her face is solemn, her eyes fixed somewhere undefined.

As they are returning, she briefly moves towards the mourning Kendra, but decides against it. She might want to process her grief alone for a while. There will be time to comfort her later, should she wish so, away from prying eyes.
She instead approaches her companions and asks a question she had been pondering since her arrival. "Lily, Romulus, I've been meaning to ask about your wolves. It is rare to see such creatures wandering peacefully around a town, and they seem to follow you willingly. I have heard tales of druids and hunters who lived among animals as if they were their own kin, and could even speak their language, is this the case?"

"it was an honor to stand up for your father. I am just disappointed that, for all the good he has done, all these inbreds could do was fear him. Damn superstitions."

As they travel back across town, Mathias finds himself scanning the alleys and corners, looking for any who may be seeking retribution for being publicly shamed. Reaching Lorrimor Place, he turns to the others as he relaxes a bit. Turning to the diminutive fey, "Well spoken, for there is much work still to be done in the name of Lorrimor. Honored friends of the Professor, I would like to offer my humble apologies to you, as I did not introduce myself earlier. My name is Mathias Gabriel, I am a hunter of the horrid, inhumane, and undead. My father was a comrade of the Professor in ages past, and for I time the Professor was a mentor to me, as I sought tutelage from him here, in this very town. How did each of you come to know him?"

Though having just said her final goodbye to her dearest friend minutes ago, the grief Ilystria feels is momentarily lessened at the question posed by Nasrin. Nature always had a way of bringing a smile to the fey's face, even if her present smile is faint and tempered by recent heartache. Still, she answers the woman's question enthusiastically enough. "Well, I would not speak for Romulus, but in our circumstances," she begins, indicating the wolf at her side with a firm pat to his shoulders, "Fenmaer was given to me by The Stag Lord, Cernunnos." The small fey turns wistful for a few moments, and though it's difficult to tell with her pupiless eyes, a faraway look overtakes her as the memory of their meeting fills her mind. "He found me south of the Worldwound. I was helping to defend the Shudderwood from a demon incursion when was I was struck down in battle. Just as I was about to breathe my last on this Plane, Fenmaer came to my rescue and ended the demon who was about to slay me." Shaking off the memory of the night and coming back to the present, Ilystria looks up at Nasrin with the same small smile. "He has been a constant companion ever since. Although we do not share a language, he can understand well what I say to him in the First Language."

At Mathias's comment, Ilystria is confused at what he could mean regarding having work to do in Petros' name, but she gives the tall, ashen man a resolute nod all the same. If there was anything to be done for Petros' legacy, Ilystria would help see it done. Fluttering her wood & ivy wings, the fey hovers in the air so as to address the humans at their eye level. "Except for Nasrin, I believe we all are guilty of the same offense. I am Ilystria Leafheart, and this is my companion, Fenmaer," she says, signaling the overlarge black and grey wolf staring up at them. "It is a delight to meet you, Mathias Gabriel. While I cannot claim to be a huntress, I have seen my share of the horrid and inhumane. I feel you will be an invaluable friend to have in the fight against such things," Ilystria states, extending a hand to the man in greeting.

"Petros discovered me while researching an alleged fey waygate shortly after I came to this Plane." She smiles fondly at the memory of the young man she had met that day. He was eager to learn about the fey, yet mindful of the wariness she felt around humans. Most of all, he was patient with still-young and ever curious gathlain who, after lowering her guard, spent much of the time asking rapid-fire questions to the man in Sylvan while tinkering with the strange gadgets he produced from his pockets. "I have known Petros since before he began to Fade--that is, before he began losing his colors. I knew him before folks began calling him Professor," Ilystria tries to explain with the tenuous grasp of time most fey seem to have. "Since the day we met such a long while ago, Petros had often requested my presence whenever he was researching topics of fey significance. ...I will dearly miss the joy I felt when receiving his letters."

The Lorrimor’s residence is crowded with bookshelves--the books practically pour out onto the floor, along with a collection of various sundries and bric a brac, including a surprising number of taxidermied animals, most of which appear to be foreign to Ustalav; the professor was quite the collector, it seems. Kendra welcomes the party into the parlor, where they find several ornate but frayed chairs in which they can sit, and offers tea to anyone who wants it.

It is about an hour before the barrister arrives. He is a local, but does not appear to be one of the handful of other people who attended the funeral--though he at least was not among the mob who attempted to stop the burial. He curtly greets Kendra, and glances over at the party, rolling his eyes before producing from his pack a scroll case.

”Greetings, everyone. I am councilman Vashian, and I have been entrusted to read the late Professor’s will to you today. I did not know the professor particularly well, but I am sorry for your loss,” he says, before taking the scroll from its case. He shows the party the wax seal--it is unbroken--before cracking it open--as he does, you all watch as a single iron key falls out of the scroll, which Vashian ignores before proceeding to read the will.

“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.

”Thank you councilman,” says Kendra to the councilman, who nods his head before departing, giving the party one final glance before heading out the door. Her face is stone, though you can tell that hearing her father’s will has shaken her--to her, it must have been like hearing him speak one last time.

”I believe I know the chest my father was referring to,” says Kendra, heading to one of the many piles of books in the room. Quickly pushing them aside, she produces a heavy oak chest which she pulls to the center of the room before unlocking it.

Inside, there are more books--at least five, from the looks of it, and on the top book you can see someone has crudely scratched READ ME NOW into the leather.

Was the iron key used to open the chest? Also, do we get the items now or are they stashed somewhere?

Before the reading of the will
"I met him while I was studying at the Arcanamirium in Absalom. My arcane powers were weaker than most students and I was failing some of my classes, even considering abandoning my career. Then Professor Lorrimor" Her voice wavers for a moment "He came as a visiting professor for a semester, holding seminars about undeath and religion, and when I went to ask him about the nation of Geb we ended up talking until sundown. He counseled me, told me which courses I should attend and which to drop, and he even managed to get me a scholarship. Above all, he showed me that seeking knowledge can be paired with kindness and wisdom, unlike some of the old codgers who taught there. We kept corresponding as I traveled, then one day it was Kendra's letter that came instead. I wish I could have seen him one last time, and told him how much he had meant to me."

-----------------

As the councilman reads her name, Nasrin feels a chill grasp her heart. Troubled times? My call coming? Professor... Did you know something? Some impending danger? Is that why we need to watch over your daughter? I will, Professor, even if it costs me my life. Then, a horrible suspicion makes way into his mind. He had these tomes of dark knowledge, he made a will ripe with ominous foreshadowing, could it be? Could he really have been murdered?
Putting aside these thoughts for the moment, she walks over to Kendra and puts her arm across her shoulders.
"Don't you worry, Kendra. I will shield you from harm, and everything will be alright. Today you grieve, and you must not be ashamed, it is no weakness. One day, your sadness will start to fade, and sweet memories will take its place. It will hurt, but it will not be the burning pain of loss, it will be a gentle and bittersweet nostalgia, and the feeling that he will always be with you, in your heart."
She then kneels next to the open chest and touches her eyes with two fingers of her left hand. "Wykrycie magii" she says with a crisp diction.

Sorry, I completely left that out; the key was indeed used to open the chest. You will be given the items momentarily. Additionally, you detect no magic on the chest or on any of the books within

Romulus stands in the back of the room, trying to go unnoticed. His heart was still beating quickly from the encounter at the gravesite. He knew that it could have-should have, really-gone completely differently. If they hadn't been able to compromise, chances are that several of the villagers would have met their end to Mara and his claws...and then the two of them would have been on the run again. He'd been in town for barely an hour now and had already had one close call.

As the will is read, and the stipulation of staying in Ravengro for a month comes up, an involuntary gasp erupts from Rom's throat. A month?! My gods, the longest I've ever stayed in town since turning was two days! And I couldn't make it that long before getting found out about either! He looks around the suddenly claustrophobic room in a panic, wishing he hadn't left Mara outside out of respect for Kendra. Easy, easy...maybe it won't be all that bad. These guys seem nice enough. Maybe some sort of miracle will happen and when they see you go all beastmode, they'll accept it? And maybe someday I'll see a boar sprout wings and fly away from me. It's about the same likelihood there.

He continues to watch quietly as the scene unfolds.

"These look like normal books, not enchanted ones." Nasrin grabs the topmost one, studies the incision for a second, then opens it and reads the first pages.

A small retcon: this was also included in the will:

"To Romulus--do not fear. You are safe here. There is a glen north of town that you might find interesting on a lonely night. And I leave for you a collection of Varisian folk tales that you might find interesting--though I can make no promises about where they will lead you."

Standing solemnly in the chamber, Mathias listens as the Professor's will is read aloud. A sword of my father's? I wonder, did Lorrimor know the truth of him?

As the will gets into the requests of the gathered strangers, Mathias tries to take stock of each person's reactions. Turning to Kendra as she opens the chest, he speaks up, "Kendra, I will happily stay with you for the next month, to see to your father's affairs and deal with any matters that need addressing. Tell me, do you plan to stay in Ravengro?" Looking over her shoulder, he takes stock of the books, curious what lies within.

From her seat in an overstuffed chair, Ilystria still looks around the home in open wonder. The Professor's former presence is readily evident in the sheer number of books and the scattered trinkets that have managed to find a space on the crowded shelves. She isn't sure yet how she feels about the stuffed animals, but she is glad to have asked Fenmaer to wait outside; she has a sneaking suspicion that the wolf may not have taken well to sharing space with them.

Ilystria smiles fondly during the reading of the will, for even through the councilman's bland voice she can hear her old friend once more. If only more mortals were like you, Petros. This world would be a much brighter place for it. But, looking around the room at the others the Professor considered his friends, Ilystria wonders if the day Petros spoke of was nearly at hand.

With the reading of the will complete, and the barrister having departed, Ilystria wonders at the mission Petros has given them. Despite not having any clear concept of how long a month lasted, the fey leans forward in her seat to address Kendra, eagerly agreeing. "Of course, I would stay for as many months as you wish, Kendra. And I hope you will come to know that, although your father is no longer with us, you always have us to count on."

"Thank you all. I do not know you as well as my father did but already I can understand why he counted you as his friends. I will be staying here, at least for a few months--you are all of course welcome to stay here as well, if you wish. Things may be slightly crowded, but I'm sure we will be able to make do," says Kendra, straightening her dress as she speaks. "If you will excuse me, I believe I know where my father is--was keeping the items he left to you."

Even though Nasrin is the one reading the first book, you all need to know what's in it, so I'm not hiding it's contents; assume she shows you the following passages, all of which are circled in the journal:

Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.

Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution
has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.

As everyone has finished reading, Nasrin falls dreadfully silent, blood drained from her face. Necromancers. Forsaken souls, masters of the unholy, meddlers in undeath. What had you gotten into, Professor? And why didn't you ask for help?
As she manages to speak again (I assume Kendra is still out of the room) her voice wavers. "A necromancer cabal, here in Ravengro. The Professor was trying to stop them. And it... It probably cost him his life."
Suddenly she straightens her back, her tone becomes resolute and her eyes flare. "When it comes to evildoers, Sarenrae tells us to forgive and redeem, but also to deal swiftly and mercilessly against unforgivable evil." She draws an elongated dagger and passes it across the palm of her left hand, drawing a drop of blood. "On my blood, I swear justice and vengeance."
She then turns to her companions. "What he wrote in the will was true, this is my call, my quest. Do you wish to accompany me? Mathias, to purge evil? Lily, to remove a blight upon nature? Romulus, to avenge a friend? Also... I believe that our task to protect Kendra probably just got much harder."

Do I know something about the Whispering Way and the Harrowstone?
Knowledge(religion): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27

The manner in which Petros had described the tomes in his will made Ilystria leery of crowding around the chest herself, as if just being near the texts would somehow taint her with the dark knowledge they contained. Just because the Professor had been able to safeguard himself against such dangers did not give her hope that she would fare the same. Perhaps the townsfolk are not the only ones holding on to superstitions... Still, at Nasrin's behest, the fey flies over from her seat to hover over the woman's shoulder, reading what appears to be the Professor's journal. The more Ilystria reads of her friend's journal, the more her own emotions begin to spiral further downwards, the entries painting a grim picture of Petros' last days.

"So necromancers do plague this village," she says in a voice that betrays her bewilderment. Watching the Kelish woman slice her hand promptly snaps Ilystria out of her near daze, sending her rushing over to her pack to retrieve a square of gauze from her healer's kit before flitting back and pressing it to the woman's hand. "Yes, of course I will help to see the Professor's work done. If such evil is truly afoot in Ravengro, Kendra will not be safe until it has been rooted out and destroyed." Uneasily eyeing the wicked-looking dagger the woman clenches, Ilystria hopes she will not be called on to shed blood. While the symbolism of the gesture is not lost on Ilystria, a fey's word is her bond, for they are unable to speak untruths.

Then, pitching her voice low, she asks, "There are many things I have yet to understand about mortals... Would it be indelicate to ask Kendra of the manner in which Petros has passed? Such knowledge may prove useful if we intend to avenge our friend."

As Nesrin reads aloud the journal entries, Mathias's mind goes to the many tales and wealth of training locked in his mind. He considers the many topics referenced within. The Whispering Way, ghosts and their ilk, possibly haunting Harrowstone? He continues to search his mind for clues as Nesrin reads on.

know(rel): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

At Nesrin's request that he join her, Mathias chuckles slightly. "Enter the Ruins of a haunted prison, destroy undead and face an evil cult? These are the things I was born and raised to do. These are the very reasons I knew Professor Lorrimor at all. I am most certainly in. And the Restlands he refers to, I am familiar with them, having spent some time here previously. Perhaps we should speak with the priest who presided over the Professor's internment and receive his blessing to recover whatever tools against the undead are stashed below."

Romulus exhales slowly. "Oh geez. What're we getting ourselves into? Never thought I'd miss the days when the worst I had to worry about was getting ambushed by a crazed fey-demon thing." He looks at Ilystria. "No offense intended. You of all people know the Shudderwood like I do...it's impressive you've survived there."

The gentle touch of Lily brings Nasrin back to reality. "Oh, thank you, it's just a scratch... a ritual of sorts." She presses the gauze against the cut, deep in thought, and holsters her dagger.
"Indelicate? Certainly so, but it could be necessary. I am afraid that we have stumbled across something far worse than we suspected. The Whispering Way is an infamous cult of undead-worshippers that traces back to-" her mouth twists in disgust "-to Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant. Their mark is a horrifying gagged skull, and they act in the shadow, ancient magic forbidding them from ever speaking aloud their secrets. They seek to release the Tyrant from the prison where he was bound, and they will not hesitate to murder anyone who opposes them or learns too much, even going so far as to mutilate their bodies... 'Abna' kalab! If they really killed the Professor, they might-" Horror painted once again on her face, she slumps on the floor, breathing heavily. As she has regained her breath, she speaks again.

"I agree with you, Mathias, we should ask Father Grimburrow about the false crypt and about anything Professor Lorrimor might have asked him. We should also buy some holy water, potions and such other items.
However, this night worries me. We must protect Kendra, but at the same time I think that we should keep watch on the Professor's grave, lest it is defiled. Should we split, then meet again tomorrow morning?"

Kendra soon returns to the room, carrying with her the items that the professor mentioned in his will, which she distributes to their new owners.

"It is getting rather later; will you all be staying here, or at the inn?" says Kendra, still unaware of what the party had been discussing.

Mathias looks over the others before responding, "My... nature... grants me the ability to see as well at night as during the day. Ilystria, is it the same for you? If so, perhaps the two of us should watch over the graveyard. With your wolf along, we will also have its keen senses. Any thoughts?"

know(local): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

"I take no offense to that," Ilystria assures Romulus with a shrug of her delicate shoulders. "The tainted ones are an unfortunate blight upon the Shudderwood, and one which I hope to end for good when the time comes. Their presence is not only a threat to your world, but to mine as well." Fixing the man with a curious look, Ilystria continues, "I am more surprised at the time you seem to have spent in the Shudderwood. Most humans tend to stay well away from the area."

As Nasrin explains the significance behind The Whispering Way and her thoughts on what their next course of action ought to be, Ilystria's countenance shifts from quietly contemplative to markedly uncomfortable. This becomes even more noticeable once Kendra returns to the parlor. It is clear there is something plaguing her mind that she is conflicted about sharing. When Mathias asks if she has any thoughts on the matter, the guileless fey answers in a hesitant voice. "I do..."

Uncertain of how much of their new findings they intend to divulge to Kendra, but willing to trust to the mortals' judgement, Ilystria answers the woman's question as vaguely as she can without lying. "We were discussing such arrangements only now, although I fear we have yet to reach an agreement." After thanking the woman for the large book of fairy tales the Professor bequeathed to her, Ilystria clutches the tome to her chest and moves back to the group.

Pitching her voice low, Ilystria confesses what her thoughts are. "I am not sure this is the wisest course of action just yet..." she begins, sending what she feels is an apologetic look to Nasrin. "I would not claim to know as much about this cult as you do, Nasrin, but I feel, if these evildoers had anything to gain from mutilating Petros' body, they most likely would have done so at the time of his murder and not be bothered to wait until his burial." Pausing just long enough to gauge her companions reactions, she goes on, "Petros was the dearest friend I have ever known. The last thing I would want is for his body to be defiled. But, unless I am mistaken, we have little to suggest that these cabalists are planning to desecrate his corpse this night, or any night. If we spend our evenings splitting our numbers on the chance someone intends to disturb the Professor's body, we may be leaving ourselves and Kendra vulnerable to an attack that would require our combined efforts to fend off."

Her thoughts on the matter thus stated, Ilystria gives Nasrin a soft smile, hoping she hasn't already estranged one new friend by offering a differing opinion. "Having said that, if this is what you truly feel needs to be done, I will not disregard your feelings. I know well how necessary it can be to heed one's instincts." Shifting her eerie gaze from Nasrin up to Mathias, the fey answers the man's previous questions. "My sight is not quite so keen as yours, but so long as there are stars in the sky, I will have enough light to see by. If this is what we plan to do, I would welcome your strength. However," Ilystria hesitates for a moment, glancing back over to the grieving Kendra. When her gaze settles back on Mathias, there is an unsettling knowing glint to them despite their featurelessness. "You seem to be the one Kendra knows best. Are you certain you do not wish to stay at her side this night?"

The fey's words bring Nasrin to re-evaluate the course of action sh had suggested. Act according to what you know, not what you fear. First, she is right, they could have defiled him at the time of death. Second, the Restlands are far away, and divided we would surely be weaker. And finally, whatever they could do to the Professor's body, the loss of Kendra would be far worse.
"You are right" she whispers to her allies "I spoke out of my fears and jumped to conclusions. Keeping Kendra safe is the priority. I think that we should also ask her if she is versed in the magic arts, it would be much easier to watch over her if she could cast spells."
She then moves to Kendra, putting on a slightly forced smile, and takes the ancient holy symbol. "Thank you, Kendra, I will treasure it. If I may, I would spend the night here. I do not need a bed, in my country we are used to sleeping on carpets, would that be alright with you?" Perhaps we will ask her about the Professor's death tomorrow, let's not add to her burdens tonight.

How far from here is the Temple of Pharasma? And how much time do we have before sunset?

You are about a half a mile from the Temple; you could probably make it there before sundown, but it would almost certainly be dark by the time you returned.

"Whatever you prefer," says Kendra, smiling weakly.

So is the plan stay the night and then head to the temple in the morning?

Romulus smirks at Ilystria's comment about humans staying out of the Shudderwood. That's kind of the point...

He nods as Nasrin offers to stay the night. "If you don't mind, I'll stay here too. It's been...way too long since I've slept on an actual bed. Or in a house, even. If anything nasty wants to get in, we'll-I mean, Mara, will smell it."

Alright, since it looks like we'll spend the night in the house, I'll skim the other books in the chest, looking for clues or information.

Ilystria watches intently as Nasrin goes to speak with Kendra, curious to find out what, if anything, the Kelish woman plans to share with the Professor's daughter. When their talk involves little else aside from sleeping arrangements, Ilystria, satisfied with Nasrin's judgement, takes up her satchel and bids goodnight to the others. "I will take my rest wherever Fenmaer is," the fey explains, hoping that the accommodations for the others will be less crowded with her sleeping out of doors. Smiling brightly at Romulus, Ilystria says, "I will be glad to bid your wolf-friend, Mara, a goodnight on your behalf, if you wish. She and I crossed paths with each other not long ago. I hope she has remembered me as well as she seems to have remembered Fenmaer."

Edited the post in case we were planning to skip ahead to the next day soon.

Mathias listens to the others patiently, a slight look of perhaps embarrassment appearing on his face at Illystria's suggestion. "Of course I want to keep Kendra safe. She is...I mean, I am... she is Professor Lorrimor's daughter, and quite likely a target of the cult. To your question, I do recall her studying the arcane arts while I resided here, though mostly those pertaining to scholarly pursuits."

As Kendra returns with the gifts from the late Professor, Mathias gets quiet. He waits quietly until Kendra offers him his father's blade. He graciously takes the blade and smiles, "Thank you, Kendra. If you're alright with it, I will stay here in the common room, with an eye on the door. Illystria and I shamed those townsfolk something hard earlier, and I wouldn't want any to come looking for a bit of retribution tonight."

The first book is rich purple in color, and a brass scarab with a single eye in its center is embedded on the front cover. Attached to the back is a note, signed by Lorrimor, asking that it be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge in Lepidstadt. The note gives his exact address, and asks that the deliverer be discreet about returning it. The book is bound by an polished steel and a small but intricate lock--the keyhole is strange, as if it was made for a triangular key--the iron key that opened the chest does not fit into it.

The second book is inky black, and the pages seem to stain Nasrin’s fingers as she thumbs through them--though the stains vanish within an instant. Written on the first page in Taldane is “The Hungering Dark,” but the words--if they are even words, for they seem to lack consistent for--in the rest of the book are written in an unknown tongue.

The third book is pale and slender--it looks like it might be someone’s journal, and indeed the entries within seem to be structured like a dream diary, though it is not written in the common tongue, and the ink is so light and silvery on the page it is a bit difficult to read regardless.

The last book seems rather mundane compared to the other three; it is written in Taldane, and titled “The Secret History of Cheliax”; it claims the infernal influence on Cheliax goes back much farther than the ascension of House Thrune, and that Asmodeus has been guiding the nation at least since it gained independence from Taldor, and perhaps even before then.

Attached to each of these last three books is a note instructing that they should be returned to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.

The night is uneventful; you all sleep a deep and dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Kendra awakens each of you in turn, thanking you for staying with her. You bid her farewell, and head towards the temple to speak with Father Grimburrow. The day seems a little brighter than the one before--though the sky is still gray and covered by clouds, you at least do not notice any stares or whispers from the townsfolk as you walk through the streets.

As you approach the bridge to cross the river to get to the temple, you notice the statue that lies on the riverbed, about twenty five feet tall--it depicts a strong and muscular man dressed in leathers and holding a truncheon. As you grow closer, you realize that a small crowd has gathered at the base of the statue--you recognize one or two people from the funeral, including the old woman who wielded a sickle, but no one specifically you can name. They all seem upset by something about the statue--and as you approach, you realize that someone has drawn a giant red “V” on its base.

Linguistics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Before leaving, Nasrin shares what she knows about the books. "If you would like to examine them, be welcome, but be aware. This dark one is written in the obscure Aklo language, used by those who dwell in darkness, and tonight my dreams were uneasy, to say the least. If they are as evil as the Professor said, they might be able to influence you."
She binds the holy symbol that Lorrimor bequeathed to her over her chest, then covers her heavy clothes with the tough silk armor that is commonplace among the arcane students in Absalom. Over all she places the bright, fire-colored cotton tabard that marks her as an ordained of the Cult of the Dawnflower.
Before leaving, she approaches Kendra and talks to her in a low tone. "I heard that you are a student of magic. We will go to the Temple of Pharasma for a commission, then we may head for the Restlands. Should you believe to be in danger, flee somewhere safe: if you want, I can lend you my spellbook, there's a spell in it that summons a fast horse. I hope that we will be back before sundown."
--------
Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 13
As they approach the statues, she stops, hoping not to attract the attention of the crowd. "Is that blood? I have a bad feeling about this..."

Loved the Lovecraft-style nightmare, I'm going to have a feeling of dread for a while!

Before drifting off into sleep, Mathias spends some time examining the blade Professor Lorrimor had bequeathed to him.

perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
weapon type, anything of note?

After he has gotten to know its steel, he slides the blade back into its sheath and sets it aside. He then draws his bastard sword and places it across his lap as he sits down in a chair in front of the door, ready for the chance of nocturnal trouble.

-----

As Nasrin describes the tomes, Mathias looks concerned. "Best we keep those books here, locked within that safe, until we are ready to deliver them. Perhaps Kendra can help us hide it someplace unnoticed within the house. Now, shall we be on to the Temple of Pharasma?"

As they approach the statue with the gathered crowd, Mathias tries to recall the nature and history of the stone monument. "Great, trouble in the town the night following our arrival..." He takes stock of the gathered crowd, trying to judge their disposition.

know(local): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

wow, terrible rolls...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

The morning comes far too soon for the fey's tastes, but one look to the sadly smiling face of Kendra is enough to dispel any lingering sleepiness Ilystria feels and remind her of the tasks to be fulfilled this day. Inside the Lorrimor home, Nasrin's warning about the tomes they are meant to deliver only serves to make the fey that more leery of them. Still, Ilystria's curiosity momentarily wins out over caution, and, sneaking a peek into the chest, she immediately spies the pale book written in the First Language. "This one is in Sylvan!" the fey excitedly informs her companions, snatching up the book and skimming through its pages. The apparent excitement she feels at finding a book written in her language for the first time gives way to confusion the more Ilystria reads its contents. "It tells the story of a mortal man who seeks a love he once had, only to find himself in the Realm of the Fey. Although..." Ilystria trails off, her expression of confusion growing more apparent with each page she turns. "I feel the story belies a deeper meaning, though what it is, I cannot say," the fey admits, placing the book back into the chest with a slight frown. One day, she would learn to understand the hidden meanings these mortals gave their words.

----

Her curiosity piques as she spies the crowd gathered near the river's edge. At Nasrin's question, Ilystria moves to discover the answer for herself, the crowd parting just enough as Fenmaer moves into their midst for the fey to examine the base of the statue. By sight alone she is able to discern that the mark has been made in blood, but, ever curious, Ilystria clinically scratches at the statue a few times before drawing her hand back and examining the flakes of dried blood that come away. "It is blood," the fey calls back to her companions, adding, "This was done around the time we were all turning in for the night's rest."

Turning to face the crowd at her back, Ilystria looks around at all the sun-starved faces, silently taking their measure, before asking, "Does this sort of mischief happen commonly in your town?"

Heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8