Its a gloomy, rainy day. Many decided to stay home and out of the weather rather than see the good Lorrimar to his final rest. The few other than you that came out look at once both morose and irritable. The few that came out introduced themselves to you and Kendra. They are Vashian Hearthmount, Gharen Muricar, Zokar Elkarid and Jominda Fallenbridge, Jominda in particular was close friends with Lorrimar. As the time comes to take the Professor down the gravel way the wind picks up, seeming to howl at you and the cold wind coupled with the rain begin to bite at you. You lift the Coffin and begin to fight against the roaring wind and rain slowly making your way towards the graveyard where the Local preacher waits. As you get about half way, you are stopped by shouts, and you can vaguely see about a dozen shapes converging on you from further up the gravel way. As they get closer, you notice they appear to be farmers or the like, they shout out to your group.
That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. We'll be takin' him upriver and bury him there if you like, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!
another person speaks up. Aye! We'll 'ave no necromancer or tha like buried with our kin! 'An we'll be hurtin' any what get in our ye hear!
They have started to circle around your group at this point, many are bearing blunted farm instruments, however a couple even pull out daggers as an attempt to emphasize the last point. Most of the others begin to back off, seeming to believe the threat. Kendra however goes to interpose herself between the leader and her fathers Coffin.
Dressed in his armor, not out of fear but because it was the nicest things he had, Viktor walks with the coffin upon his shoulder and a grim expression upon his face. This isn't the first time that he has taken this kind of walk and, he is certain, it will not be the last time either.
He stands at around 6'1, his frame strong and muscular without being abnormally muscled. He walks with the gait of a warrior and his dark eyes examine the scene carefully, looking for any changes in elevation that may cause a misstep. Long, black hair clings to his face, beaten down by the constant rain but it is what he expects, Ustalav at least knows how to properly accept a funeral.
A series of weapons hang upon his form; a longsword, a shortsword, a heavy mace, and a shortbow upon his lower back. All weapons look well-maintained if used, his chainmail complimented by thick and heavy black cotton that now clings to him. Only the shield upon his back, made of exquisite wood and beautifully, shows any real wealth. The design is easily discerned as Elven and probably is worth as much as all the weapons and armor upon him. A small wooden holy symbol of Pharasma hangs from his neck, swaying with every step he takes.
Most interesting though is his companion, a small goat that walks in step with him. The animal has a dark grey and white coat, his horns vicious and large. It follows simple commands but seems to react oddly, unlike any goat anyone had ever seen. Mean and ill-tempered, it seems to judge anyone it looks at and you can swear it is sizing you up every time it watches you.
As the congregation is stopped by the mob, Viktor seems to tense but doesn't let go of the coffin. He waits till they get closer, his lips tightly pulled together.
"Gentlemen, ladies. I traveled with Professor Lorrimor on many of his expeditions. He is no necromancer, just a caring father who has departed this world too soon. Please...let us pass." The warrior's voice is surprisingly soft, his dark eyes pleading even. It almost seems unbecoming of the man.
The goat, on the other hand, stands in front of them alongside with Kendra and snorts before letting a rather strong, almost challenging cry before snorting loudly again.
He is dressed in a dark coat and vest over his armor and brown pants with leather boots. Dark glasses and a gray scarf conceal much of his face including three reddish scars down the right side of his face. He wears red, fingerless gloves and wears a wooden symbol of Pharasma around his left wrist.
Not a tall man he is lean but possesses a wiry build. His step is light but surefooted.
He has a longbow and arrows strapped to his back and morningstar at his hip. Close inspection will show that the bow is the more worn of the two and both have the symbol of pharasma carved into them.
He stands slightly apart from the rest of the group, wanting to pay his respects but being uncomfortable with so many unfamiliar people so close at hand.
Seeing the group of agitated humans attempting to disrupt the funeral, Ladruca steps forward.
Seeing the large human trying to calm the humans Ladruca attempts to placate the group and quickly comes up with a lie to try and send them on their way.
''People please there is no need for such a reaction. Lorrimor was a great man and he deserves his final rest here in his home. He then indicates Viktor
''This man is right, please allow us to pass uninterrupted''
Hmm, maybe a quick lie will send these peasants fleeing
''Besides good people, don't you know its terrible luck to disturb a funeral? You might be inviting the most horrendus of luck on yourselves.''
Unable to assist as a pallbearer, the female halfing walks silently behind the coffin, her hood pulled up against the rain and her head bowed. Dwarfed by everyone in the funeral party, she stands a mere 2'11" tall and the slender frame common to her people. A single lock of hair, hanging on her forehead reveals that she brown hair and her face is pale. She is wearing a simple tunic and pants outfit similar to what the farmers accosting the group are wearing. The clothing is well cared for but somewhat worn and patched. Over this she wears a cloak that although noticeably new compared to her other attire is not of particularly great quality.
I really shouldn't be here. I hardly knew him. I can't believe he even remembered me.
She shivers and pulls the cloak tighter around her.
And this weather ... surely it's some sort of bad luck to bury someone in a storm like this...
When the agitated mob of locals surround the group she looks up and someone standing close to her might notice a brief flicker of white in her blue eyes, instantly gone as a look of fear washes across her face.
A .. a necromancer?
That doesn't sound right, he seemed so nice. Kind even ..
I cannot believe he was a necromancer! He was kind. He thanked me when I ... he thanked ... he was nice...
Think Fi! These men wouldn't know a necromancer if one bit them on the knee! They are just the same as those folk back home. They make up something to be scared of and nothing will turn them away from it. Nothing I said helped at all back then and nothing these folk say now will either.
Fi speaks out, trying to moderate her volume enough to carry to the funeral party but not to the angry villagers...
Take care there! These folks have got a fear in their heads and have themselves all worked up over it. It ain't likely they'll be talked out of whatever fool notion they've taken to with honeyed words.
Despite the angry mob, relief is plain on what is exposed of Nostro's face and golden eyes. Yet another moment the Inheritor's Grace has spared me from the wrath of an ignorant mob...
Nostro stands near the front of the coffin, his sturdy figure bearing the weight with ease. Even through his red cloak you can see he is well muscled, but wearing much lighter armor than his trade would typically require. There is a shield strapped to his back and a longsword on his hip, both clearly marked with the Iomedae's Sunbursts.
As the group begins to shout at them, he seems to be taken by surprise as his fellows come to a halt. Stopping to become targets doesn't seem wise...
"He is being escorted to his grave by two agents of Pharasma and one of Iomedae. Lorrimor is no Necromancer. Step aside."
Turning to his fellow bearers, "We should keep moving. The short one is right."
Fi looks nervously around, back up the gravel path behind them to see if the way is clear to retreat that way. Her sudden inattention allows the wind to whip her cloak free from her hands and it flies out behind her, held in place only by the clasp at her neck. After a moment of struggle she pulls it back in and holds it around herself again.
It's worse than back at home. I don't know any of these people. I don't know what any of them will do. Who wants to fight and who doesn't. Well, I do know one person who doesn't - me. These honest farm folk obviously came wanting a fight. They brought weapons. And there are so many of them. Much more than last time. This could be much worse.
Keydas draws the hood of his cloak up against the rain and wind, shivering slightly in the cold. Well, it certainly is appropriate weather for a funeral, if nothing else.
Keydas's correspondence with the professor had been frequent as regards academic matters, but had rarely touched on the personal. While he had known of the existence of his daughter, he had not known her name until he had received the notification of the Professor's death and funeral.
He keenly felt the professor's death. Lorrimor's knowledge on a wide array of topics had been unmatched, and he had greatly aided and influenced Keydas's research. It had likely been Professor Lorrimor's letter of recommendation that had gotten him his faculty position at the University of Lepidstadt, and Keydas had admired and respected him.
Carrying the casket, only slightly struggling with the weight, Keydas is lost in his thoughts until the farmers jar him from them. At their accusations, he cannot believe them. The professor, a necromancer? I know he could be a bit aloof, but really? It's not like he was animating the dead or digging up graveyards or anything. Just because a man has more knowledge about a subject than the common folk doesn't mean he's consorting with demons or whatever superstitious garbage these fools believe. This is why education is so valuable. Hmm, that gives me an idea. Perhaps I should research the benefits of a government-funded mandatory education system that would help dispel some of these foolish notions. Such a system would encourage critical thinking and rational discourse, as opposed to subscribing to superstitious drivel. I am certain a collegiate curriculum could be simplified into one suitable for children and adolescents. Why, such a system would be...No, Keydas, focus on the task at hand. These farmers first.
By this point, several of the other mourners had spoken up, and Keydas chimed in to add his two copper pieces. "Come, my goodmen, is this really a necessary action? Do not all deserve to be buried in consecrated ground, so that their souls may find peace in Pharasma's judgement? None can nor should be denied such, and I see no reason to do so with Professor Lorrimor. As to the charge of necromancy, have you any proof? One should not fling accusations about without evidence, for doing so leads only to trouble. After all, if one unfounded accusation is believed, what is to stop a man who holds grudge against you from throwing the same accusation at you the next time? Such a cycle leads only to sorrow and violence, none of which, I think, you want in this quiet, peaceful town. Now, please, step aside and allow us to bury this departed soul peacefully, so that he may find his eternal rest."
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An ebony cloak embroidered with gold trim clings to a sturdy looking man. His pale skin glistening with rain as he clenches hold of the coffin with one hand and an intricate looking shovel, its darkwood shaft etched with arcane sigils, gripped in the other.
A wooden symbol of Pharasma rests upon his neck while a dark brown leather bandolier crosses down his chest filled with small pouches and flasks; resting upon a black leather tunic.
As the ignorant crowd disrupts the procession his eyes, fiery as if made of fire opal, stares into the mob as they brandish weapons.
He looks to the mob anger upon his face; "And what would you dolts know of a necromancer...I'd wager you wouldn't even realize if your were speaking to one..."
He clenches his shovel, his knuckles turning white, as he stomps his black leather boot into the mud. "Professor Lorrimor was a scholar and a kind soul. He helped teach me the finer points of the destruction of the undead."
If then spits onto the ground towards the mob. "You will not attempt to discredit this man as he lays in his coffin you filth. If you wish to deal with a necromancer...I would oblige you if you wish..."
He then shifts his grip, freeing his hand, and propping the coffin with the other. His free had moves to form intricate gestures as he utters a spell.
"Your foolish disrespect of this funeral will make the spirits restless...we wouldn't want that would we?
As you speak to the group, you start to see some back off slightly, and others begin to look a tad doubtful. It seems that they might be considering backing off peacefully, until... you hear one of them shout.
One of them is a demon spawn. They attempt to beguile you!
Suddenly the group begins to look confident again, until gregor speaks up. As Gregor speaks, slowly many of their faces turn to fear. When he casts his spell and the ghostly wails are heard, most of the men spin frantically around before running off towards the town. However, several others stay, taking in a good look at Gregor specifically.
I knew he was a necromancer. An' you are as well! You are not welcome here, you, or you!
He points his dagger at Gregor, then to Nostro.
The townfolk will hear of this, they'll not tolerate you or your kind.
He glances around at the other 3 remaining members, all having readied themselves to follow the leaders decisions. After a few more moments, he hurls his dagger at Gregor before running back towards the town. The dagger misses its mark, and you hear his voice through the wind.
This isn't over necromancer!
However, As they go to flee you see a goat shaped object run and slam into one's behind, getting a yelp and lifting the man a couple feet from the ground.
Kendra lets out a sigh, before turning to Gregor.
Was that really necessary? I have always tried to assuage the towns fears of my fathers work. Yet, when we are confronted by them, you not only rile them up, but attempt to convince them that you are a necromancer? I... ugh.
She lets out a sigh before composing herself a moment. At any rate, I suppose I should thank you for getting rid of them. However, I would ask you not TRY to work them up. It will only cause problems.
Most of the others walking with you take a noticeable step away from Gregor, save Jominda. Hearthmount finally speaks up.
Ahem, I do apologize Kendra, those were mostly field hands or menial workers with more spare time than they know what to do with. I, I uh will make sure the sheriff has a talk with them about proper etiquette. he nods to himself several times. You start your slow trek once again. With most of the others staying on the opposite side of Gregor.
Did... did the one with the black cloak just say that he was a necromancer? Could it be that these local folk are right after all? After all, I really only knew the professor for a very short while. But Cobble trusted him, and Cobble was always good at such things. Oh how I wish he was here, he'd have had these folks singing to his tune in no time.
Confused and increasingly alarmed, Filiana takes a single step backwards, away from the coffin when suddenly the locals run off. She listens silently as Kendra and Hearthmount speak and then stands still in shock as the procession starts off once again.
Are we still going on with this? What if they come back?
When it is clear that everyone is in fact going on and she is presented with the choice of following along or walking back up the path on her own, Filiana follows the group. She will try to walk as far from Gregor as she can without being obvious about it.
Viktor listens quietly to the others, nodding and listening as the others do what they can to try and calm the townsfolk down. He smiles at the others as they make their logical, kindhearted requests, before Gregor speaks ups.
The threats of necromancy draw a scowl across the warrior's face, as he shakes his head a little. The dagger is thrown, whistling through the rain, but passes by Gregor without connecting nearby. They flee back to town, the cry of Gunnar being heard as he delivers a well-deserved ramming to the arse of one of the men.
"That...was problematic..." He says, shaking his head as he looks over his shoulder at the man with the robes. "You've done the Professor a disservice. Who knows if his rest will be peaceful now or if the town will disturb him. We all know that Lorrimor was no necromancer...but the fear the Tyrant left behind runs deep."
"Please..." The large man asks with a soft, kind voice. "...try and work with them next time. Using tricks like that spell will only make them more fearful."
Gunnar will return with a trot alongside Viktor's side, as he looks down at the goat who seems awfully pleased with himself.
"Same goes for you. That was unnecessary." Those watching can almost swear that they see the goat shrug. Without another word, Viktor makes his way further towards the graveyard.
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Gregor chuckles to himself as he re-grips the coffin with his hand. He turns to look at Kendra. "My apologies. I will try my best not to rile up those simpletons." He then clears his throat. "I need not convince them...I am a necromancer. I have sworn oaths to Pharasma never to raise the dead and I'm an ordained gravedigger for a church. But necromancy serves its purpose in their destruction."
He then looks to the others around him that have moved away. Taking care to offer a small smile and a nod.
"Please don't let my handling of those cretins let your outlook of myself be sour."
He then looks towards Viktor. "What you say is right. I will bite my tongue if it happens again. Ignorance of my work tends to boil my blood."
He then chuckles. "I like the goat...it's bold."
Viktor nods with a small smile, readjusting his grip upon the coffin as he he steps forward. "A worthy occupation and one that has too much need, sadly. The Lady of Graves calls on us all too soon."
The comment about the goat draws a quick chuckle from Viktor as he looks down at his companion, nodding. "Gunnar is very..." The goat looks up at the man with a look that is oddly human, as if there was a challenge in it for him to say something. It draws another laugh from Viktor as he shakes his head. "Gunnar is Gunnar. That is the best way to put it."
Hearing Gregor refer to himself as a necromancer Ladruca feels his blood begin to quicken, but he calms when he sees Gregor's holy symbol.
A necromancer that serves Lady Pharasma? Ive never heard of such an arrangement before. This merits further study.
Seeing that the immediate threat of violence has calmed Ladruca pulls his cloak tighter to help ward off the cold and he starts approaching the rest of the group.
He stops close to Gregor and gives a small bow to the rest of the group.
''A self-proclaimed necromancer that serves Pharasma? You must tell me more about this arrangement some night, Ive never heard of it and it sounds like an interesting tale.''
He then turns to Kendra. ''Im sure no one here meant to disrupt your father's funeral but I fear such a scene was impossible to avoid. Stupid people are always afraid of those smarter than them and your father was a very smart man.''
He walks over to the coffin and bends to help pick it up. Over his shoulder he adds ''Besides i think the goat had the right idea. They needed an ass-kicking''
Keydas eyes his fellow pallbearer with a different light. Unlike most others, he is not put off by the man's declaration as a necromancer, and is keen to speak with the man at a later time about his studies. His experience is likely a most fascinating endeavor, and that he is so willingly proud of his craft and proclaims it so makes him a most intriguing person.
Out loud, he says, "While I can understand feeling insulted at the comments of others slighting one's work, when it comes to ignorance, I find that feeding that superstition isn't going to improve the situation for the future. I believe we could have talked our way past the mob and calmed them down, sending them home, if not less suspicious, at least less hostile to us. Still, what is done is done, and cannot be changed. Let us hope that their respect for the dead leads them to leave the Professor's grave alone, and not come creeping in the night to desecrate it."
He offers a smile of reassurance to Kendra and the others who have come to the Professor's funeral, and says, "I understand that our history and the legacy of the Tyrant can easily color the perceptions of its citizenry. Is there perhaps some way we could educate the citizens to avoid such an incident going forward?"
Filiana's gaze flits from person to person, amazement and fear clear upon her face...
Did they not hear him? He just plainly said that he is a necromancer. How can they be so calm about this?
She passes her hand across her face, wiping off rainwater and trying to calm her heart, which is beating fit to burst out of her chest. She closes her eyes and pictures herself, as a child, sitting on her father's knee while he told her outrageous stories about distant family members. The happy memory serves to calm her somewhat.
Please, let this be over. Let us just get this over with.
Straining to keep her voice flat and calm she says ... So, shall we continue then?
The others that had been keeping distance from gegor give slight smiles and nod. However they don't move closer. Hearthmount clears his throat. Ah, hm, right of course sir.
With a grunt, Viktor continues down the way towards the burial site for the good professor. A frown stays on his face, as he looks at the others around him.
"An assembly of strangers. Did the professor not have anyone closer to him to come and accept his inheritance? This is all too strange, I was just a bodyguard after all."
He stays in quiet focus, step by muddy step onward.
Filiana looks startled when Gregor speaks to her, and shivers, whether from the cold or something else is not clear. But she draws her cloak in around her as the group sets off again and follows along.
Ladruca frowns when Gregor seemingly ignores his question.
Maybe he didn't hear me? Should I ask him again? No best not to, this isn't really the proper setting for idle chat about religious doctrine anyway. Then again what if his commitment to Pharasma is nothing but a lie. Hmm this necromancer merits closer inspection.
He continues to follow his fellow mourners, all the while wondering how they all knew the professor.
As soon as the mob disperses, Nostro's golden eyes shimmer with an ethereal grey haze as he quickly scans the area in the direction of the ghostly wailing and then the Professor's body.
"As far as mobs go, that was pathetic." Now I know where I stand with the townspeople: above a necromancer. Perfect.
"Hearthmount. I will accompany you to see the sheriff. People are entitled to voice their opinion, but unprovoked acts of violence will be met with the law."
Turning to Gregor, rivulets of water streaming down his helm, "I don't know what trick that was, but it was foolish. Contain your emotions unless you wish a premature end."
"Keydas. If you believe that education will help these people... then I will support you in this matter." Anything these people can have to defend themselves from the terrors of Ustalav, the better. Fear is a powerful weapon to face and education is the only way to match it.
Before he resumes his role as pallbearer, he moves in front of the small, shivering figure. A knee drops into the thick mud as he kneels. "Filiana. You are visibly cold." His gauntleted hands undo the clasp of his red cloak, revealing the black skin of his neck. He then sweeps his arms forward in an attempt to drape it over her shoulders.
A confused flash of hurt crosses his face before it resumes its stony visage. He stands up, clasps the now muddy cloak around his neck, and resumes his position at the coffin. I don't understand...
Nostro's expression remains neutral as he fastens the clasp and bundles the excess length around her. He then stands and resumes his position at the coffin. There is no need to suffer more than we already are.
Father Grimburrow.
Hearthmount responds to Nostro. Ah, no no, that won't be necessary. I'll make sure that the Sheriff gives those whipper snappers the good what for I say! ah, ahem. Besides, we are here now. Best to settle the dead than make them wait any longer. He nods to himself some more. His plump cheeks bouncing slightly.
Kendra speaks up at the prospect of "educating" the townfolk. Highly unlikely. The common folk here are just as superstitious of actual learning as they are ghosts and the dead. Its all magic to them. You'd have to not only be on their good side already, but prove that what you teach isn't some... necromancy or witchcraft. She falls silent, the anger at the townsfolk accusations slowly fading again to grief.
You eventually make it to the burial site, Grimburrow checks gives a nod.
Well, better late than never I suppose. He looks up to the rain scowling. better hurry or the grave will fill with water. Not good that I tell you. At first you thought his scowl was due to the rain. But slowly you being to realize he seemed to constantly be scowling, as if his face had contorted and made the scowl a permanent feature. Needless to say, his stink-eye was terrifying, even for the more stoic of you.
Eventually the body is laid to rest. Father Grimburrow gives a short sermon and prayer for the dead. After which Kendra recounts some of the Professors finer moments. And a few touching ones between her and him when she had been younger. Jominda stands stoically in the rain, while most of the other council members seem a bit anxious as it drags on. About an hour after laying him to rest, the gathered members begin to disperse as Kendra and Father Grimburrow dismiss them. Hearthmount moves to and speaks to kendra.
I am sorry lass, I have some business to attend to post haste, I must ask that the reading of the will be put off for about an hour. I'll meet you are your house when the time comes. he gives a curt nod before walking off mumbling about drenched clothing.
After a pause, Kendra wipes some tears from her eyes and turns to all of you.
Ahem, Well, I would like to invite you all to come warm yourselves at my home. I don't know entirely why my father left your names precisely. However he did, and the noted stated that all of you were to stay for the reading of his will or it wouldn't be read at all. She gives a curious expression at mentioning that.
But I trust him, and, I suppose you trust him as well. Or at the very least he trusts you. She gives a wry glance to Gregor. So, please do come and dry yourselves as my honored guests. She waits your response.
Filiana is visibly startled when the Tiefling kneels before her and offers her his cloak. For a moment she stares at him, eyes wide, like a startled rabbit.
Saranrae preserve me! Look at him. He looks like some sort of ... no... no... stop that Fi ... you should know better than most that you can't judge a horse by it's saddle. He said he was a Paladin of Iomedae, and here he is being kind to you... it would be unkind of you to fault him for his looks, which are no choice of his after all...
Filiana licks her lips before speaking ... Th ... thank you sir... ummm, sir knight. You are very kind. I just bought my cloak recently, but I fear it was not really made with this sort of weather in mind. I shall have to be more careful next time.
Filiana pulls the cloak in around her. She smiles slightly to herself when she realizes how much of the cloak is going to drag on the ground behind her. Then the smile fades as she remembers that she is at a funeral.
She then follows the rest of the group to the graveside and stands silently through the ceremony. When asked if she wishes to speak she shakes her head.
What would I say? I can't really say I knew him. We met so briefly. He was very kind though. I wish I could say something about that.
At the offer of some warmth out of the rain in Kendra's home, Filiana bows her acceptance and follows along. Once in Kendra's house she will remove both of the cloaks and hang them up somewhere to dry. If anything at that point she will become even quieter, for without the concealment of her cloak she feels even more keenly the coarse nature of her clothing, marking as being out of her place.
Viktor arrives with the coffin in hand, the scowling priest reminding him so much of the other priests of Pharasma that dot his homeland. The scar that the Whispering Tyrant had left upon Ustalav. There was a hat he had available but the rain felt appropriate; he only worked with the professor but he had come to respect and admire the man after a time. He was a good man, an honest man, looking to help recover Ustalav's former glory and shining potential.
When he is asked if he wished to speak, Viktor looks surprised for a moment before clearing his throat. "Ummm...I guess I could..." He then stumbles for a moment as the goat butts him gently in the leg, egging the fighter to the front.
"Well...I can't say I knew the Professor personally. He helped save my home from a cult dedicated to dark things, gave me guidance when I had lost a close friend, and allowed me to learn my craft alongside him for good coin and good company."
The goat complained loudly suddenly, bringing a laugh from Viktor that seems to melt away the serious and stoic face that usually remains on the Ustalavian's face.
"He introduced me to people who helped bring the ornery bastard there into my life. I can never thank him enough for helping me through my dark times."
He grows quiet then, looking down at the coffin deep in the ground for a few second before his voice continues as a soft murmur.
"Rest in peace, Professor. May Pharasma judge you quickly and honestly and send you to your well-deserved reward." With a nod to Father Grimburrow, he steps to the side and lets any others say their peace.
Giving Kendra the space she required, his eyes flicker to the woman as she invites them to her home. A small frown spreads across his face as he gives a small nod. "I must admit, I've been curious of that as well. We have not spoken or worked together for years now. Thank you for your kindness, your father would be proud to see the composure his daughter has. If there is anything you need, do not be afraid to ask. I'm a simple man but I will do what I can."
Once within the Lorrimore Estate, Viktor takes off his dark cloak and hangs it on the coat hanger beside the door. His clothing is patched together and repaired, not from being worn out but from various cuts and other damages that had ruined them. Within the warmth of light, you can even see the scar that crosses the bridge of his nose. He steps into the study, looking at the series of books gathered upon the wall before he leans down and begins to help stoke the fire.
Lady Lorrimore, do you have any tea to drink? I think something to warm our souls would be good for a dark day such as today." He looks at the others that are gathered there, trying to find some correlation between them other than the professor. Nonetheless, there seems to be no real connection that can be made. "He made such interesting acquaintances. What a man." He thinks to himself, leaning against the bookcase for a moment before he nods to the others.
"So...if you do not mind my asking...how do you all know the Professor? I was merely a bodyguard and a mercenary, I helped secure his safety but little extra." At that moment, Gunnar winds up to shake his goat but there is a quick hiss from the tall man before he shakes his head. [b]"Be civil and wait by the fire Gunnar or I'll make you wait outside. Don't think I won't..." With a look of defeat, the goat lays down beside the fireplace with an irritated look.
As Ladruca and the others set down the coffin, he steps back as the priest, Father Grimburrow, begins the sermon.
Wow, this old priest is even more grim looking than father Mccormick back at the abbey where I trained. I wonder if its a trait of all Pharasmin priests. Hope that doesn't mean im doomed to such a fate?
The last thought causes him to chuckle to himself but he remembers where he is an d bites back his laughter.
He hesitates when asked to speak, but seeing the large man's hesitation as well helps strengthen his resolve.
'' I also knew the professor for only a short but in that time I learned much from him. He was a great man and I can only hope his after life is pleasant for it is the least that he deserves.''
He steps back when he is done speaking to listen to the rest of the speakers.
When the service is complete he kneels at the professor's grave and scoops a small hole in the dirt with his left hand and retrieves a silver coin with his right. He places it in the hole and covers it back up.
''May you find peace professor, I will not forget you''
Seeing that the others accept Kendra's offer of hospitality and not having a place to stay Ladruca accepts. He thanks his hostess and follows the rest.
Arriving at the manor, Ladruca removes his coat and after a moment's hesitation his scarf and glasses. He hangs the former and pockets his glasses, revealing his face for the first time.
His skin is pale and his irises are black with a red tinge, his right cheek marred by three deep, red scars.
Turning to their hostess Ladruca asks ''When will the will be read? is it soon after the funeral or is there a lengthy period in between, Im new to this sort of thing.'' He then turns to address the large human.
''Yes im also curious how we all knew the professor. I myself was a guest during one of his lectures about the rise and fall of various empires. I guess he found me an interesting student because he approached me afterwards and we had a lengthy discussion and many that followed. And how about the rest of you?'' He asks as he addresses the rest of the group.
''Im Ladruca by the way''
Nostro stares hard at Hearthmount for a moment. "As you wish."
Too eager to reject my offer. Why? I'll keep an eye on him.
Turning to Kendra, "That is a shame. They look like they would benefit from improved education."
At the burial site, Nostro performs his duties as pallbearer with an experienced hand. Another one taken too early. I must know how. His duty completed, he stands respectfully at attention while the others say their piece about the Professor. When people begin to clear, Nostro approaches the grave while drawing his sword, piercing the ground near the edge of the grave as he kneels before it. "May the Inheritor guard your passage to the Boneyard. May the Light of the Sword hallow your grave. May the Lady of Valor keep it safe." His prayer complete, he rises from the mud and rejoins the group.
Hearthmount has earned my full suspicion. He has time to stand in the rain for an hour but cannot spare a few minutes for the reading of the will?
"Kendra. I accept your offer. Thank you for your hospitality."
Once at her house, Nostro makes a point to clean off as much mud as possible before entering and then stands near the fire to dry off. Once as presentable as he can reasonably get, he will take a seat near the fire. "Nostro Shudderwood. I happened upon the Professor during a patrol. Ghouls were about to ambush them and I performed my duty. He thanked me by having my future assignment changed. In doing so, he saved my life."
Keydas shakes his head at Kendra's statement about learning. "Not even reading and writing, or arithmetic? These are not works of magic, they are tools of civilization. That they should be superstitious of learning...I can hardly fathom it." He notes Nostro's act of kindness towards the halfling, but says nothing of it.
Still in disbelief, Keydas carries the coffin to the grave, where they are met by Father Grimburrow. You know, several of the older Pharasman priests in Ledpidstadt have that same scowl. I wonder, is it a trait of all Pharasmin? Only the ones in Ustalav? Or is it just a side effect of aging? Perhaps I could make a study of it sometime.
During Father Grimburrow's sermon, Keydas notes how the council members seem to be somewhat anxious - with the exception of Jominda. He also remembered that Jominda had not taken a step away from the necromancer when he declared himself so. Interesting. Perhaps a conversation can be had with him later. He does not seem as timid the others.
At the invitation to speak, Keydas steps forward and says, "Professor Lorrimor was an intelligent, compassionate man who loved study and research. He did not seek glory or power, but was widely respected by academics throughout the Inner Sea. Had it not been for his guidance and correspondence, I would not have accomplished much of what I have today. May our soul rest in eternal peace, Professor."
After the service ends, Keydas waits with the others who are not from Ravengro, until Kendra makes her invitation. Smiling, he says, "I thank you for your hospitality, and most graciously accept."
Upon arriving, he cleans the mud from his boots and leaves them just by the door inside, hanging his coat on a hook so that it can dry before looking about. Amazed by the number of tomes in the house, Keydas will run a hand along the shelves looking at some of the titles. Some of these are hard to find even in Lepidstadt. That professor Lorrimor could amass such a vast collection is truly impressive.
As the others introduced themselves, Keydas waited for his turn before saying, "My name is Keydas Amrath, professor of history and religious studies at the University of Lepidstadt. Like Ladruca, I attended one of the Professor's lectures as an undergraduate at the University, and must have impressed him with some of my questions. He helped to guide my research and even wrote me a letter of recommendation when I applied for my faculty position. We have primarily communicated on academic matters via correspondence. I knew little of his personal life, however, and was surprised to be included in the reading of his will."
After introductions are complete, he will assist Kendra in bringing tea to where everyone is seated, saying, "I am sorry to ask at this trying time, but how did your father die? I know his research and expeditions could sometimes be dangerous, but I hope it was peaceful."
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Gregor solemnly stands by during the sermon. When the opportunity arrives to speak he moves to stand before the grave.
"Professor Lorrimor was a kind and intelligent man. He found me in my darkest hour...and didn't hesitate to provide aid. He mentored me for a short time, teaching me the workings of the undead, and how to better destroy the abominations."
He pauses for a moment, a brief moment of pain crosses his pale face, before continuing.
"He gave me a reason to move on...he gave me hope in my time of need. Without his guidance i would not be standing here before you all."
He then looks down upon the grave and plants his shovel into the dirt, taking a small portion and letting it drop onto the coffin below.
"My dear Professor... may your soul rest eternal...may you be judged well in the Boneyard. My old friend."
With that Gregor waits till offered invitation to Kendra's home. "I will accept. Thank you."
Upon arriving Gregor hangs his cloak to dry, revealing a blue woolen shirt under a black leather tunic with a dark leather bandolier crossing his chest, his long white hair falls out from his cloak; which he wrings out the water from.
"Greetings everyone. My name is Gregor Hahn from Lepidstadt."
He gives a curt bow before speaking further.
"I met the professor after an incident within the graveyard I tended with my father. The professor was intrigued by the oddity of it and stayed in contact with me to help me with my training."
He face grows haunted his normally fiery looking eyes, seem dull and lifeless, before it fades and a forced smile crosses his face.
"Ladruca, i apologize for seemingly ignoring you before. I thought it prudent to stave off speaking of my profession till in private. Considering my actions with the mob. I'd be more than willingly to answer any questions you have."
"I apologize, I did not give my name. I am Viktor Krylov of Suceava, a small village about two days south of Marian Leigh and along the river in Virlych. I served in the town militia there for awhile, defending it from the abominations that infest the Hungry Mountains."
Unlike other Ustalavians, he doesn't seem particularly put off by the strange appearances of Ludraca, Gregor, or Nostro. He does watch them for a few moments with a gaze that you could easily picture upon any guardsman, before turning his sight away.
When Keydas asks the questions that had been burning upon Viktor's tongue, the large man seems relieved to not be the one to have had to ask it. "I must admit, I wish to know as well. He always seemed to be a careful, cautious sort...there was never a time when we weren't at least partially prepared for what laid ahead."
Filiana stood quietly in the corner, listening as the five men all introduced themselves and talked about their connection to the late Professor. Although she wasn't right in front of the fire she was now substantially warmer than she had been, and was starting to dry out. However the prospect of speaking before all those in the room brought out another brief shiver.
These people all seem to have known the Professor so much better than I do. They have better claim to be in his will. And he has a daughter! Surely her claim should be ... I shouldn't be here. This feels wrong. And when they hear my tale they will all know it. They'll put me out. I will have come all this way for nothing. I'll have to go ... to go back.
She rubs her face with both hands, pressing her palms over her eyes for a moment as she considers what to do.
Well, you have to speak up now. Everyone else has said their piece, you can't just stand here dumb as a rock. The Professor was smart, he knew what he was doing. Trust that...
My ... umm, my name is Filiana. Filiana Longsong. I come from Varno, near Redleaf. I ... umm, I didn't know the Professor very well. I only met him one time and we traveled together for only a few days. Less than a week, really. I'm sorry. I don't know why he put me in his will. We were, that is my cousin Cobble and I. We were traveling up to Lozeri. You see, he is traveling all over the Inner Sea, tracking down branches of our family. He found us, Cobble that is. My family I mean, in Varno. He stayed with us for a while. He had heard rumors that there were more Longsongs up in Lozeri and wanted to go up there and look for them. And I was ... umm .. I needed... Anyway, he asked me to come with him. So I did. We were traveling through Odranto when we met him... the Professor that is. Cobble had insisted on visiting as many of the old abandoned castles as we could find on our way.
Filiana pauses for a moment as if sorting her memories.
It was in one of these that we found him. He was exploring and had been attacked by a large band of undead. Unhallowed Zombies, Cobble called them. He said they must have once been a Kellid raiding party. Anyway, they had cornered the Professor and he was hurt. So we helped him. Well, Cobble did, mostly. For all that he was about traveling about telling happy stories, he was very good with his sword. I didn't help all that much. I don't even have a sword. But us being there gave the Professor time to get free. And he was very kind. Said we saved him. He was very kind... very kind ... So anyway, we traveled together for a few days. Till we got to the border with Lozeri, then we said our goodbyes. I didn't think I would ever hear from him again till I got the letter saying to come here.
By the time she has finished telling her story, the emotion that had been so carefully bottled up during the funeral has finally gotten the better of her, and tears are streaming down Filiana's cheeks.
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Gregor looks down at Filiana and takes a knee near her. "From the sounds of it the Professor saw something in you...seemingly like he saw something in each of us here."
He then slowly reaches over a places his hand on her shoulder in a sign of support. "Do not doubt why he placed you in his will. Clearly the professor remembered you; even if you only spent a short time with him."
He then smiles and slowly stands back up.
As you are talking among yourselves Kendra brings hot some hot tea. She places some sugar on the table in the middle of the room and pours everyone a cup.
Feel free to use as much as you like. Personally I prefer my tea much sweeter than my father did. She cracks a small smile for a few seconds.
As for his death, well, no one knows much. He was found down near harrowstone, a fractured statue having... having crushed his head. Most agree it was an unfortunate accident, or perhaps some haunt or ghost that my father angered. She looks saddened once again but continues.
As for all of you being here. I trust my father, and if he arranged all of you to be here. Well, there is a reason for it. Its good to know my father managed to touch the lives of even a few people in such a way as this. She gives another smile.
@Nostro You get the sense that the mayor would rather keep matters of the town just that. Matters of the town. While he doesn't seem openly hostile to you in any way, or even openly mistrusting, he seems to have a desire to keep local matters local.
As he speaks to kendra, you get the sense that he has already pushed back some matters to attend the funeral, and it is likely that he would rather talk to the sheriff while the faces of the mob are still fresh in his mind.
For Harrowstone.
Harrowstone is a ruined prison— partially destroyed by a fire in 4661, the building has stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place.
Harrowstone was built in 4594. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy—that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conflagration. It was only through the self-sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping—the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.
At the time Harrowstone burned, five particularly notorious criminals had recently arrived at the prison. While the commonly held belief is that the tragic fire began accidentally after the riot began, in fact the prisoners had already seized control of the dungeon and had been in command of the lower level for several hours before the fire. Warden Hawkran triggered a deadfall to seal the rioting prisoners in the lower level, but in so doing trapped himself and nearly two dozen guards. The prisoners were in the process of escaping when the panicked guards accidentally started the fire in a desperate attempt to end the riot.
= DC10
"Harrowstone? The old prison? I heard tales that the place is haunted by the ghosts of guards and prisoners alike."
He takes a cup of tea and adds just enough sugar to sweeten it but not overcome the flavor of the tea itself. With a soft sound of enjoyment, he nods towards Kendra.
"Thank you. The tea is very good." Viktor says with a slow nod of thanks, looking towards the halfling whose face streams with tears. Reaching into his vest, he pulls out a small handkerchief and offers it towards her with a small, warm smile.
"It seems you made an impression than, Filiana. I am certain that he is happy that you were able to attend. I am certain he was happy all of us were."
Viktor relaxes into one of the chairs in the studies, looking towards Gregor with a nod.
"You mentioned you were...a necromancer. A sanctioned one by the church? I have never heard of such a thing."
He looks at the others as well, particularly Ladruca and Nostro.
Now...I mean no offense but...what are your heritages? I have traveled with the professor for a time and met many strange and unusual peoples. Do not worry, I do not fear you and I trust in the Professor's judgements."
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At the mention of Harrowstone Gregor seems to shiver.
"That is a truly dark place. Filled with much death and tragedy. What was the Professor doing at such a place, i wonder."
Gregor ceases his pacing and looks to Viktor. "Yes...I practice the art of necromancy, it is my specialty. I worked for a small church in Lepidstadt, that is tended by the clergy of Pharasma."
He ponders for a moment his face seems pained.
"Klaus took me in at a young age from the orphanage. I apprenticed under him, serving the church as a gravedigger and warden of the graveyard. I took vows to Pharasma, witnessed by the clergy, never to use my magic to raise the undead; just as Klaus had done many years before."
He then begins pacing again before speaking...almost whispering to himself.
"Unfortunately, after the incident, i was left without my mentor..."
Viktor nods softly as Gregor explains his teachings, the warrior nodding for a moment before he takes another sip of the still warm tea.
"I understand now. You are a brave man, that is not an easy occupation to take. Not a safe one either."
The murmur that escapes the man brings a curious look from Viktor, Gunnar does not seem to stir as he snores a little beside the fireplace.
"Incident? What happened to your mentor, this Klaus gentleman?"
Filiana looks momentarily apprehensive at the necromancer kneeling before her ...
Don't be foolish Fi she mentally chided herself. The Professor chose him too. And all these other folks seem to understand what he means about being a good(?) necromancer. So even if you don't you should give him a chance.
She smiles back at Gregor, Thank you Master Hahn. You are quite right. The Professor knew what he was doing. I suppose I should trust in that even if I don't quite understand it.
Filiana then gratefully accepts the handkerchief from Viktor and wipes the tears from her face. Her tears have ceased now so she quickly tidies herself up as best she can.
Thank you Master ... umm, Master Krylov. That was kind of you. I am sorry, I did not mean to burden you all with my tears, they just got the better of me all of a sudden. It is just that he was very kind to me. He still is being I suppose.
Then she makes her way over to the table and gets herself some tea. She then moves closer to the fire before sipping at the tea. She listens silently as the others in the room discuss places that she has no knowledge of. Lepidstadt and Harrowstone - these names mean nothing to her, and yet they seem ominous and portentous.
Nostro stiffens a little when he catches sight of Filiana's tears, pausing mid sip of his unsweetened tea. He recovers quickly and resumes drinking, pleasantly warming him from the inside. Hopefully she stops that soon...
"I would see the statue that brought him his end. Statues rarely fracture significantly on their own." Hearing that it is near what turns out to be an old, potentially haunted prison, "Even more reason to go. Might learn something useful. If there is an abomination there, even better. I can rid the place of it." Much could be learned at this Harrowstone: more on the professor's death, more about Ustalavian architecture, and more experience cleansing the land of darkness. Excellent.
Nostro looks squarely at Viktor, "I am a Tiefling. I never met my parents. You should learn to trust people based on actions, not looks."
Keydas blinks in surprise at Kendra's statement of where he'd been found - and how he had died. "An investigation of Harrowstone? What could have drawn him to such a place? I'll admit, I am not always one to wisely choose topics of research, but I would not brave Harrowstone alone - well, ever."
Noting confused looks on the faces of some of the others in the room, Keydas, unconsciously taking on a slight lecturing tone, says, "The prison of Harrowstone was founded in 4594, Absalom Reckoning. Ravengro was founded at the same time to provide a place for the prison guards and their families to live, as well as to ensure the prison was self-sustained with supplies. The criminals sent to Harrowstone were typically the most hardened sort, and the majority of executions of criminals in Ustalav for the time occurred at the place. In 4661, five particularly notorious criminals were sent to the prison, and shortly after their arrival, a riot broke out and the prison partially burned down, claiming the lives of Warden Hawkran and 23 of the guards, as well as the Warden's wife, although none know why she would have been at the prison. While most believe that the fire happened during the riot, in actuality the prisoners had seized control of the lower level of the east-wing of the prison, and had control of it for several hours. The Warden triggered a deadfall that trapped the prisoners and the guards down there, sacrificing themselves to keep the town safe. The fire was actually started when some of the guards panicked as the prisoners tried to escape. After the fire, a statue was erected to the memory of the Warden and the guards who sacrificed themselves. The prison was abandoned, and has lain empty since. The locals believe it to be haunted, and none like speaking of the place." With an apologetic look at Kendra, he says, "It may be that the Professor perishing there is what caused some citizens to think of him as a necromancer."
Keydas will then take a cup of tea, black, with no sugar.
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Gregor stops and takes a seat before looking at Viktor.
"We had happened upon a disturbed crypt...a man had broken inside. He must have hung their for at least a full day perhaps before we found him."
He takes a sip from his tea and stares off for a moment before continuing.
"Klaus started to undo the noose around the mans neck...when we both heard it. A strange muttering coming from the dark inside...a mass of shadow came forth clawing at Klaus...babbling incoherent madness. He told me to run and get help..."
He lowers his head into his hands.
"By the time i returned with help...Klaus lay on the ground a gibbering mess...he was never the same. I visit him when I can in the asylum. He was a father to me."
Viktor listens to Gregor's tale with rapt attention, the stern and serious gaze watching the necromancer as he tells his tragic tale. When the man's demeanor seems to be shaken, Viktor's stare breaks and he looks down and away. "I...I apologize for bringing up such a dark memory, friend." Reaching across the way, he places his hand on Gregor's shoulder and gives a firm but supportive squeeze. "You have become a brave man, a little too eager to dissuade others with your talents it seems, but a brave man nonetheless. To hunt the undead is no simple task." There is a look of somewhat comradarie in Viktor's eyes as he gives a reassuring smile.
Upon hearing from Nostro, Viktor raises his hand, shaking his head after the long stare from the solemn paladin of Iomadae. "As I said, I meant no offense. I have not been taught to identify your kind and was more curious than suspicious. I apologize if it appeared otherwise. I care little what you are, it is exactly as you say. I care what you do. Please, do not assume my intentions." Viktor's voice is apologetic but not wavering as he meets the tiefling's stare for that moment before being pulled away by Filiana's mention of him as "Master Krylov".
"Oh, by the gods, please call me Viktor!" He says with a short but full laugh, shaking his head. "I am not nearly old enough or prestigious enough to be worthy of a title like that. Keep the handkerchief if you wish, I can get another in town." The man, when he smiles, seems almost disarming. His mannerisms seem very much at odds of the toned, muscular physique that he had and the gait of a warrior that he walks with. He takes another sip of tea, chuckling again as Keydas begins to recite the history of Harrowstone Prison.
Viktor represses a chill as Keydas speaks of the dark history of the prison and the events that led to its current, abandoned state. Viktor murmurs a quiet prayer to Pharasma under his breath, wishing the spirits to be at rest before he nods towards the educated man. [b]"Thank you for that. I did not know such terrible events had occured there. It seems that Nostro's suspicions may be correct, perhaps there was something more nefarious at work."
He nods toward Nostro, patting the longsword along his side. "If you go to investigate it, let me know. I'd be honored to accompany one of the chosen of Iomadae, I've never had the opportunity to." Nostro would feel a bump at his chair from behind and there would be Gunnar, no longer tired and seemingly bored but quite intensively looking at the man. After a few moments, the goat seems to be appeased and gives a nod before resting at Viktor's feet.
Starting to feel a little warmer, Ladruca walks away from the fire to fetch a cup of tea, which he takes unsweetened. He gives Kendra a nod of thanks and returns to stand near the fire.
He is surprised at Gregor's apology and is momentarily taken aback. He regains his composure and gives a small smile.
''Ahh don't worry about it, your probably right and I shouldn't have gotten my undertrousers all twisted about it. I suppose I should admit I was quite suspicious when you admitted to being a damned necromancer! But ive never heard one who doesn't raise the dead. Good to hear there are good necromancers out there.'' Hearing about Gregor's mentor, Ladrua flashes him a sad smile. '' Im sorry to hear about your mentor, I was taken in by a father Otto when I was younger and less experienced and it was he who taught me channel my anger into a useful purpose. I learned most of what i know about hunting from him. Even now years later I feel his loss keenly'' The last is said in a low voice.
He returns to staring into the fire until he hears Filiana speaking up and becoming upset.Poor lass he thinks to himself but says nothing.
He listens with great interest when he hears about the professor's death and to Keydas' explanations about the events that unfolded at the prison.
When Keydas finishes speaking, Ladruca approaches him.
''That is a very interesting story. I had heard that it was a prison and that the warden and his wife lost their lives there, but I never heard nothing about a riot, only about the fire. The professor and I must not have gotten to that part of the history.'' He gives a small chuckle. ''Anyway, you wouldn't happen to know more about these prisoners would you? The ones that rioted? What they had done or how they overpowered the guards?'' Im also curious since you seem so knowledgeable about the prison's history if there is any credible stories about it being haunted. More credible then stories from people afraid of writing in any case. He cracks a smile as he says this.
When Viktor asks about everyone's heritage, Ladruca frowns. Well, it was gonna come up at some point. Should I lie? Hearing Nostro admit his heritage, Ladruca decides to do so as well.
'' Well im what you call a Dhampir. There's vampire blood in me somewhere. Mom thought it was my father, since that's how it usually goes and she didn't know him well or for long. But the truth is im not really sure.
He turns to Nostro at this point.
''You know,buddy you shouldn't be so quick to jump down people's throat about what you are, not everyone has seen monsters that can talk like us before.''
He then looks around the room at everyone.''I would like to examine that statue myself as well though. The prison being haunted is probably just a story from these superstitious morons, but if not....''
Viktor smiles at the scarred man, nodding slightly towards him before he talks in that low tone.
"Thank you, for your honesty. He doesn't need to apologize, I have seen how quick my countrymen can be to judge their own ilk. I cannot imagine the difficulties that you, Gregor, or him have surpassed in your lives. Having his question answered and his curiosity sated for the moment, he leans back in his seat and sips away quietly upon his tea.
His brows furrow for a moment before he looks back at Kendra, nodding towards her.
"Do you happen to know what business brought your father to the prison? I am assuming your father and you have been within Ravengro for quite some time now. What would draw his attention to the prison after so long a time?"
Upon hearing a bit of Gregor's story, Keydas decides to wait before asking about his practice of necromantic magic.
Upon hearing about Nostro and, especially, Ladruca's heritage, however, he is barely able to contain himself from immediately inundating them with questions. No, Keydas, now is not the time to question them. It would be very rude as well, and you don't know them that well.
exactly an hour after the funeral, you hear a rapping on the house's front door breaking into the flow of your conversation. When kendra opens the door Councilman Hearthmount is standing outside, changed and holding a thick cloak over his head to shield the rain. It seems if nothing else the councilman was punctual.
Well then, I suppose we should just get straight down to business.
He glances over all of you, and it is easy to see he doesn't particularly like having matters of Ravengro unfold with outsiders around. You get a sense that its not dislike, just a desire to keep matters of the town, to the town only.
Kendra nods, I suppose now is as good a time as any. It seems the ones my father requested be here at the reading are all present. Come, let us go to my fathers old study on the second floor.
She leads you all up to a large office, with shelves upon shelves of more books, tomes, and oddities. An astronomers telescope is set up at the far window and maps of all assortments are still spread out on the desk. After a bit of cleaning, Everyone manages to find a seat and the Councilman begins to read the will. He pauses a for a few moments at certain points, leaving a particularly long pause at the mention of the "darker side" of Lorrimars work.
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans. “And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause. “Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude.
From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will."
After finishing the will, Kendra thanks Hearthmount for his time and he quickly leaves the house, quite obviously avoiding any attempts at conversation. He does however give everyone present a small nod on his way out.
kendra then turns to the group.
Well, I suppose that's that then. I... am unsure if I will be remaining here, or selling the place. I'm more than concerned that many in the town have grown extremely distrustful of me now... at any rate, you are all welcome to stay here free of charge. There are plenty of spare rooms here, and I have quite enough left to provide for you all. However, I hope you don't mind being surrounded by dusty tomes wherever you go in the house. My father never did like having one room dedicated to his books... Not that any room was ever big enough. She lets out a small chuckle. Now, Please, give me one moment I will return with the chest. After a few moments she returns with a rather small oak chest.
Here, I feel it only right that one of you open the chest. Considering that by all rights the contents are all of yours now.
She then hands the key to Filiana.
Once the chest is opened you see sitting atop the other books a worn leather journal with the words "Read me now!" etched into the leather cover. Once someone scans the books, they notice it is indeed the Professors journal. Most are merely day to day happenings and activities of little consequence, however several entries have been circled in red ink. They are-
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.
Two Months Ago: It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago: Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago: It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list. eighteen Days Ago: I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
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.
You also realize that the last journal entry is one day before the Professor's body was found outside Harrowstone.
Under the journal are four other books, three of which have small notes on them stating to deliver them to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University.
The other is noted to be delivered in discretion to one Embreth Daramid.
The first three books are-
On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on Golarion that possess remote ties to the Dark Tapestry, the name given to the dark places between the stars in the night sky.
Serving Your Hunger: This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins.
The Umbral Leaves: This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuth
The fourth book's title is written in Varisian. The rich purple cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The key is nowhere to be found, however you imagine anyone proficient enough in locks could likely get it to open. However this one looks exceptionally well made and would be quite difficult to pick.
Once you see the book "Serving you Hunger", you get a strange sensation on the back of your neck. You know of this, it likely contains knowledge pertaining to the undead. While a great portion of it is likely to be dedicated to the raising of dead, and at least some tenants of Urgathoa, you realize it likely holds invaluable knowledge that could be used against undead. Understanding an enemy is as important in a fight as the power to defeat him...
It is easy to see Kendra's surprise once the books are taken out of the chest. She likely had no idea just what it was her father had been researching, nor how dark the subject matter had been.
I.. These books are... Where would my father have gotten these?..