First
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Although he was getting on in years, Petros’s death was rather sudden and his daughter Kendra, a 25- year-old woman who has lived in Ravengro for nearly 15 years (having moved here with her family as a child from Lepidstadt after her father retired from teaching),
is still in mourning. Her eyes are red and puffy and she dresses in dark, conservative clothes. Trim and attractive, Kendra greets each of you with a mixture of curiosity, sadness, and relief—no one else has come to pay their respects to her father, and “with things the way they are in town these days,” very few folks from Ravengro have come out for the funeral as well. Kendra waves off questions for now, promising each of you that after her father is buried and they return to her house, she’ll answer any questions they have—both about her father’s death and about his will.
You have gathered at the entrance to the Restlands with Kendra Lorrimor and a fine coffin containing the body of her father. It does not smell of death but the professor's personal flavors: ink, paper, and a hint of lemon. Kendra asks, "Which of you would like to serve as pallbearers?" There is room on the coffin to accommodate six people, with a minimum of four. As you have likely just arrived after a long trip, we can assume that you are outfitted with weapons, armor, and starting gear.
Father Grimburrow and a pair of gravediggers are already waiting at the site of the professor’s burial—as part of local tradition, they do not accompany the pallbearers from the gate to the grave. Besides your assembled group, only a small handful of villagers are attending the funeral procession. Old friends of Lorrimar, they too have come to pay their respects. They consist of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, Councilman Gharen Muricar, tavernkeeper Zokar Elkarid and his 13-year-old son Pevrin, and Jominda Fallenbridge (Ravengro’s apothecary and one of the professor’s good friends). All of them are somber and have little to say to you at this time.
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Magdali had intended to arrive earlier than the day of the funeral so she could put herself at Kendra Lorrimor's disposal. Magdali is well aware of the grief and mental stresses that accompany the passing of a loved one, and wanted to free Professor Lorrimor daughter to concentrate on the details of funeral arrangements without the added burden of daily mundane tasks.
The journey from Lepistadt had been slower than she had been told it would be though, costing her an extra day. Magdali does what she can to assist Kendra, taking on part of the duties related to hosting the few guests that arrive. She also volunteers to be a pallbearer of course.
She had been surprised by the notification she had received informing her of Professor Lorrimor's death, and well as the news she had been cited in his will. She would not have thought he would remember her name at all. Their personal meeting had been intense, but very brief. Some few years ago, Magdali had attended a small lecture of the Professor's in Lepidstadt. The subject was something she could hardly remember now, but as part of the demonstration, the Professor has brought a beheaded contained within a glass case.
Something had gone wrong with the case, perhaps an imperfection in its manufacture, or damage from travel. Whatever the cause, it was able to escape the case, and it immediately set upon the professor. After spewing acid on the man, it had grabbed him to finish the poor man. Most all of the audience had been shaken into inaction by the thing's awful scream as it burst from the case.
Magdali was not though, and she was the first to come to the professor's aid. A flash of energy bright as the sun reduced the beheaded to a truly dead husk. A second flash healed the professor's wounds and brought him back from the brink of death.
Later, when things had calmed, they had introduced themselves to each other, but that was all. Of course the rest of the lecture was cancelled and they went their separate ways.
Magdali had considered the event to be beneficially instructive even if the topic to be discussed went uncovered. Beheaded are rather exotic, so the chance to encounter one, and learn it's habits firsthand was a valuable asset.
Nikolay was in the middle of an experiment when he recieved the news about Professor Lorrimor's death. His thrill at uncovering the inner workings of the universe quickly changed to deep sorrow as he processed the news of his mentor's passing. In his grief, he barely registered the news of the late professor's will, seeking only to mourn his deceased teacher. He left for Ravengro as soon as possible, but in his haste, he failed to make adequate travelling plans, and he arrived in town only a day before the funeral.
To most of the students at the Sincomakti School of Sciences, it had been another ordinary lecture - some distinguished scholar from some college or other giving a speech on some obscure topic nobody cared about. But to Nikolay Ramada, Petros Lorrimor's talk on elemental electricity was the key to understanding the knowledge he had accumulated over the years. His readings, his experiments, his strange "second sight" - it finally all made sense!
When he approached the professor after the lecture and bombarded the poor man with question after question about his speech, Lorrimor was taken aback by the young man's strange mannerisms. However, when he heard the enthusiasm in the eerie student's voice and saw how his lambent red eyes seemed to blaze with excitement as he spoke, he decided to aid Nikolay in his research, guiding him and instructing him in the ways of science.
After months of study and work, Ramada brought forth his strange theory of "galvanophysiology," eternally grateful to Professor Lorrimor for his mentorship. The elder scholar moved on to other research, but the young physiologist continued his experiments, refining and adding onto the theorems he developed with his teacher.
As the preparations for the funeral commence, Nikolay remains by Kendra's side, attempting to comfort her in her grief. Though he only met his mentor's daughter once before, and even then only briefly, he understands the depth of her loss - Lorrimor was like a father to him, and he is likewise distraught by the elderly scholar's death. As he meets the other guests, he becomes aware that his reinforced white lab coat, the utilitarian garment near-ubiquitous in the Sincomakti applied sciences college, is dramatically out of place amidst the somber black clothes worn by the esteemed councilmen present. Though he ordinarily gives little to no thought to his own appearance, he begins to worry that he is somehow disrespecting his beloved mentor's memory, and he tries to keep out of the way when his fellow mourners arrive, folding his spindly arms behind his back and moving out of the way. However, when the call goes out for pallbearers, he immediately steps up to aid in Professor Lorrimor's funeral.
Messenger reached Visayn with sad news, when he was coming back from hunting trip to local woods. He recalls perfectly the day he met the professor first time. He was walking near a cemetery, when he heard strange noise. His rapier drawn and ready to strike he quietly approached what he assumed to be a ghoul eating some poor guys corpse, when suddenly the corpse rose up clenching a mace. Lorrimor turned around wielding a first aid kit, which he had used to tend wounds his friend had sustained in a fight against zombies. Ashamed Visayn mumbled apology and sheathed his rapier introducing himself. Lorrimor, however, was impressed that neither could hear Visayn sneaking amid dry leaves. He was hired instantly and surprised the professor with knowledge of the surrounding area and skill in finding traps.
When he arrives at the coffin, Visayn curses as he had not paid any thought to aquiring proper funeral clothing. He quickly glances other guests, before raising his hand to answer the call for pallbearers.
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He'd been six foot tall when he left, bony was what Drake had called him, gangly was the word the professor had used. He'd filled out since then; shoulders wide, Legs, wrists, arms and chest thick with corded muscle. He still wore his hair long, but the 'peach fuzz' had grown into a beard, covering a portion of the scar that ran down the left side of his face. The scar, four deep scratches his mother had given him. The first and second barely missing the eye, but the fourth cut, though the shortest, took off a chunk of his ear. No amount of 'magical' healing restoring the ear.
Pushing the memory of his mother from his mind, he noticed the hides tanning beside the cabin. Børak still wore heavy boots made of elk hide, breaches and a jacket made from buckskin, though he had traded the linen shirt for a cotton one. He no longer wore the hide armor Drake had made for him, but instead wore an expensive breastplate, with a well crafted magical cloak, good for any weather and helping with his abilities. His boar spear, shortsword and hatchet had also worn out long ago and his newest weapons were purpose made for different types of threats.
Seeing movement inside the windows, Børak figured Drake had sensed him, the ancient elf had that ability. He knew when something wasn't right. Walking up to the door he knocked, hearing his mentor call "Come in boy." He smiled to himself wondering how long his mentor had known he was there. It was easy to step into the home and fall into old habits. He rested his bardiche in the empty slot where his boar spear had rested, taking of his cloak and hanging it up on the empty hook, setting his rucksack below the hook and kicking his boots off near the door.
Seeing that Drake was standing over a pot of porridge in the fireplace, Børak went to the shelves and fetched bowls and cups. Nodding as the elf offered him some rabbit stew, Børak took the bowls over and cut the dark rye bread as Drake served up the soup. As they ate in companionable silence, it felt like the time melted away. Eventually, unprompted Børak began to share why he was passing through the woods, headed towards Ravengro for the funeral on the morrow. After a bit Drake nodded his head, and told Børak of the tower his family had built, adding he'd travel with his student to see it again. Knowing the morning would come early Børak took his leave, grabbing his rucksack and climbing to the loft he slept in as a child. Taking off the breastplate and weapons belt, he placed them beside the rucksack. Drawing out his bedroll, he layed it over the fresh straw and was quickly asleep.
Waking well before dawn, the mentor and student ate cold porridge and day old rye bread. Packing the needed gear, headed towards Ravengro.
Standing on the hill overlooking the town of Ravengro, Børak and Drake stood briefly looking down on the Town. Seeing his mentor drops to his knees in despair. They had turned it into a prison. It was even burnt in many places. He tells Borak, "There is a treasure still in the tower that must be claimed before an evil spirit does. And oooh the evil vibe this prison gives off is massive. But first we must bury your friend." Nodding, he gestures towards the town. "We better get to it." Not comfortable seeing his mentor this disturbed, Børak started heading down the hill assuming his old friend would catch up when ready.
Moving towards the small group, Børak recognized Kendra, it had been a couple years since he'd seen her, but she was still trim and attractive inspite of the red puffy eyes and the funeral clothes. He nods to her when she greets him, considering apologizing for being dressed for the road. But he knows she would understand even if the others didn't. Looking around the group, he recognized one of the professor's previous students and a fellow who had been a bodyguard for a time. He nodded to them as well but didn't remember eithers name. He looked towards the dark haired woman wearing armor, he didn't recognize her, but he nodded silently when their eyes met.
Hearing Kendra ask who was willing to serve as a pallbearer, Børak wasn't sure he wanted to, but he would be willing. The professor had walked willingly with him in life and he was one of few. The least Børak could do is walk with him in death, at least to the graveyard but he'd have to proceed to the boneyard on his own. everyone stands before Pharasma alone. Not wanting to smile at his own revelation, Børak bit his lip and stepped forwards, he'd serve as a pallbearer.
Helping carry the casket was an easier task than he'd thought, as they walked he wondered what the professor would have thought of the man he'd become. As he helped carry the casket, he noticed the few towns people that had come to show their respects; a trio of old men, a boy and a couple. Keeping his head bowed, to keep the scar less visible, he didn't need his appearance to distract anyone from why they were here. Passing from the road into the graveyard Børak noticed the priest and his grave diggers. Knowing that was where they were headed he, with the other pallbearers turned towards them, eventually setting the casket down where indicated.
He slowly follows Borak, barely keeping him in sight. His despair getting the better of him, sure he hasn't been here for hundreds of years but there was no sign of the elven towers that once stood here.
As he approached the gathered group he took stock of himself and of them. Then he shrugged joining the small gathering.
Kendra, as the deceased’s closest living relative, has the job of leading the somber procession along the Dreamwake—a gravel pathway that winds through the cemetery. As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, you see that the way ahead is blocked by a
group of three dozen surly looking locals. The tallest of these toughs is an elderly but wiry retired soldier named Gibs Hephenus. He speaks out as soon as the group is noticed.
Gibs shouts out, “That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”
Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already been...”
Then Gibs quickly retorts, “You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still can. Folks are pretty upset about this right now.”
Indignantly she spouts out, “Necromancy!? Are you really that ignorant?”
There are about two or three dozen folks among the crowd behind Gibs. They hold up their torches and farming equipment ready for a fight.
All of them are laborers at local farms or fishermen.
None of them seek to kill the PCs, but they do hope to force the PCs to flee the cemetery.
If the PCs step in and try to negotiate with the thugs,
have the first PC to speak make a Diplomacy check. Any
other PC who also speaks up can aid another on the first
PC’s Diplomacy check. It’s a DC 20 Diplomacy check to
calm the thugs down enough that they sullenly disperse,
shooting venomous glances at the PCs and Kendra, but
leaving the cemetery nevertheless and allowing the
procession to continue. Any hostile act (such as drawing
a weapon or casting a spell) is enough to incite the thugs
to fight, as is a failed Diplomacy check or allowing the
dialogue above to play out to the end.
Creatures: There are a dozen men in all in this group—
all of them are laborers at local farms or fishermen. None
of them seek to kill the PCs, but they do hope to force
the PCs to f lee the cemetery. Of course, there’s something
more at work here as well—the seeping supernatural
inf luence of Harrowstone has spread into Ravengro. As
this adventure proceeds, this inf luence grows, but for
now it does little more than to give some of the more
reactionary or superstitious locals the courage and anger
they need to act out on their impulses.
Although there are a dozen men in the group, not all
of them move toward the PCs—half the group threatens
the others in the funeral party or hangs back to shout
insults or give encouragement to their allies. Six of the
mob attack the PCs with their improvised weapons,
striking not to kill but to subdue. The mob’s leader, the
elderly Gibs, does not take part in the attack, and f lees
the Restlands as soon as it becomes apparent that the PCs
are more than a match for the thugs.
Most of the others in the procession are not brave
enough to enter the fight, either being too old, too
cowardly, or too protective of their friends and family to
risk battle. They shriek and cower behind the PCs, and
f lee back to town as soon as any of them are attacked
(regardless of whether the attack hits). Only Kendra
stands up to the thugs, her stubborn anger compelling
her to join the PCs in the fight.
One complication in this confrontation, of course, is
the fact that many of the PCs are pallbearers. All of the
pallbearers must take a full-round action to lower the
coffin—if the PCs wish to do this during the dialogue
above, they may do so, but this allows enough time for
the dialogue to play out, resulting in a fight. Each time a
character lets go of the coffin early, there’s a cumulative
40% chance that the coffin is dropped and poor Petros’s
body spills out onto the muddy gravel. If three PCs
release the coffin, it automatically falls. If the PCs drop
the coffin, they lose 1 Trust point.
Ravengro Thugs (6) CR 1/4
XP 100 each
Male commoner 1
N Medium humanoid (human)
Init +0; Senses Perception +4
Defense
AC 12, touch 10, flat-footed 10
hp 9 each (2d6+2)
Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +0
Offense
Speed 30 ft.
Melee farm tool –3 (1d6+1 nonlethal)
Tactics
During Combat Although these thugs are proficient in using
their farming tools (a mix of rakes, hoes, sickles, pitchforks,
and hammers), they attack to deal nonlethal damage and
thus take a –4 penalty on attack rolls (this penalty is figured
into their melee attack above). The thugs hope to run
off the PCs and the others, forcing them to abandon the
coffin so they can haul it and the body downriver to the
Harrowstone memorial (area O, see page 63), where they
burn the coffin and the body in the hope of dispersing the
“curse” on the town.
Morale As soon as a thug takes any damage, he drops his
weapon and flees (or drops to his knees and begs for mercy
if flight is impossible or too dangerous).
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Magdali quickly speaks up, hoping to convince the mob to disperse so they can continue on to the burial site in peace. It is clear by her blue robes and the holy symbol she wears around her neck that she is associated with the Church of Pharasma.
"Listen to what I say to you now! This interment is sanctioned by the Church of Pharasma, and has the Lady of Grave's own blessing upon it!"
"I am sure you know well enough that Pharasma holds those who practice necromancy in contempt, as does her Church. Professor Lorrimor did not practice such dark things. Rather, he made studies of the undead and the state of undeath. His work is valued by my own church in Lepidstadt, as well as many others. His discoveries and the knowledge he shared has better equipped us to counter the undead and put them to final rest. We counted him as a valued ally."
"I ask you now, after I told you the truth of the matter, do you still want to deny Professor Lorrimor his rightful place of rest? Do you intend to thwart the Gray Lady's will in this matter? Remember, sooner or later each and every one of you will stand before her in judgement. All will have been recorded, and none of your deeds will be forgotten. How will you answer her when that time comes if you block our way now?"
As the procession continues to the Restlands, Nikolay walks in silence, lost in his own thoughts. When the pallbearers spot the peasant mob, he raises one eyebrow as he contemplates the group. More mourners, come to pay their respects?
However, as the laborers confront the group and Kendra steps forward to defend her father, his face begins to twist in equal parts sorrow and anger - it's clear that the slander targeted at Professor Lorrimor upsets him deeply. These fools remind me of my father. I didn't think anyone hated Lorrimor enough to keep him from a decent Pharasmin burial - everyone deserves at least that.
"You don’t get it, woman. We won’t have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin."
At the mention of necromancy, Nikolay's eyes flash as he angrily steps in to defend his teacher's memory. "By the waters of the River of the Dead! Necromancy? Are you yokels mad, or just ignorant? You can't even tell the difference between a scientist and a blasphemous soul merchant! Professor Lorrimor was twice the person..." Concerned that his agitation undermines the work of his unknown sister in faith, he restrains himself (with a degree of difficulty) and continues speaking after a moment, his voice bearing the enforced calm of a furious man making a valiant effort to keep his anger in check.
"Look, Father Grimburrow is waiting for us inside the Restlands. Why don't we bring our dispute before him, and he can decide which of us is correct? He would arguably be best situated to pass mortal judgement on Professor Lorrimor, and you all still respect your elders, yes? I have enough faith in my mentor to rely on a mediator - can you say the same for your slanderous intimations?" The scientist looks around the gathered group before lighting on the young Pevrin Elkarid and motioning him over. His voice bears contrition as he speaks to the adolescent boy, in distinct contrast to his earlier fury. "I'm sorry to bother you, young lad, but could you go fetch Father Grimburrow so we can give poor Lorrimor here a decent burial?" He waits in silence for the laborers' response, holding his end of Lorrimor's coffin tightly, but he is clearly agitated - his pointed teeth are clenched in anger, and he glares at the peasants as he awaits the arrival of the Pharasmin priest.
Visayn's expression turns grim "Get out of our way, Lorrimor was kind but wise man, honest but not naive. Your accusations are complete ignorance, which don't merit serious response." his voice is slightly contemptuos toward crowd
Watching as the local peasants approached, Børak could tell by their demeanor they only wanted to scare the small group of pallbearers, but he'd seen crowds get out of control before. Keeping his head lowered he resisted the urge to laugh at the ignorant locals. It was like a disease in Ustalav, ignorant people going after everything they didn't understand.
Keeping a tight grip on the rail of the casket, Børak hopes they keep moving, even if it is slower. Raising an eyebrow as the young woman starts to speak, it sounded like she was a member of the Pharasma's clergy, but he hadn't seen any holy symbol. He smiled as she used her knowledge of the Lady of Graves and her church against their ignorance.
Chuckling as the professor's former student asks if they are mad, or just ignorant? he can't resist the urge to whisper "Both." Watching the crowd to see if either of the two educated pallbearers changed the crowds attitude, he listened as the former body guard spoke up. Chuckling again as sylph told them to get out of the way, Børak glances at the others, whispering "If this goes south I'll take the tall mouthy one out first. That should run them off or at least shut them up."
At Magdali's words the thugs calm down enough that they sullenly disperse, shooting venomous glances at the each of you and Kendra, but
leaving the cemetery nevertheless and allowing the procession to continue. Some that were more open minded walk behind the procession to Father Grimbarrow, their farming tools down if not put away.
Kendra thanks Magdali and Dr. Ramada profusely and apologizes for the mob. The attending councilors profess shock at the formation of the mob and indicate that they recognized the thugs as “local farmhands, all of low character.” Councilman Hearthmount sighs and states, "I promise to seek out the town’s sheriff to report the crime."
Father Grimburrow approaches slowly from the burial site with his workers walking with him. Shocked by the appearance of the mob, he asks, "How are you all doing?" At the mention of De. Ramada's words the priest puts any possible fears to rest, "This burial is sanctioned by the Church of Pharasma, and has the Lady of Grave's own blessing upon it!" The rest of the farmers disperse without any sour looks.
The procession continues up to the plot Kendra purchased for her father. No further complications prevent the lowering of his coffin into the open grave by the gravediggers. Father Grimburrow gives a short sermon, then invites Kendra to say a few words about her father. Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or selfless moments, thanking everyone once again for coming. She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or remembrances.
The sickly physiologist nods in thanks to Pevrin and Father Grimburrow for helping to resolve the conflict. At Councilman Hearthmount's statement, he hangs his head in shame. "I understand their fear - necromancy is a terrible blasphemy that curses both the soul that uses it and the land around it. I apologize if my words were hasty, but Lorrimor was a good man, and he doesn't deserve that kind of slander."
As the group approaches the late scholar's plot of land, he sets down the casket along with his fellow pallbearers, stepping back to let the gravediggers work. As the Pharasmin priest gives his sermon, he bows his head in mourning, and he listens intently as Kendra delivers her speech.
When the mourners are invited to share stories of the professor, Nikolay steps up to the burial site, attempting to honor Professor Lorrimor's memory by eulogizing his teacher. "When I first met Petros Lorrimor, I was a student in the Sincomakti School of Sciences, in Rozenport. He could have just brushed me off, ignored me when I came to him for help, but he took me in. He was my mentor - no, more than that. He was like a father to me. He showed me kindness that nobody else ever has. Everything I am today, I am because of his guidance, and I am not alone in my praise of this great man. I am sure that dozens, if not hundreds of my fellow students stand on the shoulders of his genius. I wish he were still here today, but I'm sure that if anyone were to be proclaimed virtuous in the eyes of Pharasma, it would be Petros Lorrimor - a scientist without peer, a selfless teacher, and a loyal friend."
The tiefling steps back from the grave site, opening space for another of the late professor's acquaintances to tell their tale of the scholar's kindness, whispering a prayer to ease the passing of his mentor's soul. "May you be guided to peace in the afterlife, Professor."
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Magdali feels it would be unseemly to speak of her encounter with Professor Lorrimor entirely as it occurred. Telling the tale of how she saved his life would bring attention to herself, when it should instead remain on the Professor this day. She excises that part, and focuses on the rest.
"I did not know Professor Lorrimor well, less so than I would have preferred. I was able to attend one of his lectures once, as an extension of my education within the Church of Pharasma in Lepidstadt. At the end I had the privilege to assist him with the specimens he had brought for the lecture."
"I was impressed with his wealth of knowledge and his desire to share it with others. I also found him personally kind and decent. Although my tutelage under Professor Lorrimor was much shorter than Dr. Ramada's, I echo his words in saying my own practice was enhanced my the guidance I received from him, and I am better for it as a result."
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Watching as most of the village peasants leave, and the rest fall in line behind, Børak shifts the weight of the casket. Breathing under his breath "Well, done. I'm afraid if it had been left to me there would have been a fight."
Raising an eyebrow as the 'village leaders' finally speak up, Børak wonders about their sincerity but keeps his thoughts to himself, but he is unable to keep from rolling his eyes as the councilman promises to speak to the law. Looking toward sthe alchemist as he speaks about 'understanding the fear of necromancy' Børak wonders what the fellow will think of his own 'condition' when the time comes to reveal it. As they approach Father Grimburrow, he nods when the priest announces that the burial is in fact 'sanctioned' by the church, keeping a keen eye as the rest of the rable leaves.
Setting down the casket he moves behind Kendra, keeping his head lowered. He wants to comfort her as she is obviously fighting back tears through the sermon and her owns words. Lowering his head, he reminds himself, his appearance in human form, is not best for comforting folks. Pausing as she invites 'others' to speak he considers his words as the well spoken scientists speaks about the man who mentored him. Børak thinks of his own mentor Drake, realizing that Ramada's relationship with the professor had been similar. Nodding his head when the tiefling stepped back and whispered a pray. leaning forwards he said, "Well said."
As Børak considers saying a few words, the woman in armor steps forwards. He listens to her Eloquent speech, impressed that the professor had such an impact in such a short period of time. Nodding to the woman as she finished, he stepped forwards, clearing his throat, he finally looked up. Removing the broad hood of the wax-treated brown leather cloak, the scar on the left side of his face more apparent. Nodding to Kendra, he started. "I don't have fine words like our two companions. As you know, your father was my friend. He accepted me as I am and asked for nothing more. In my experience that is truly rare. I'm sorry for your loss." He looked at the other pallbearers. "For all our loss." He returned his gaze towards his friend's daughter. "If there is anything I can do, now or later, you only need ask." He nods to Father Grimburrow, then pulling the heavy brown hood back on his head, he steps back behind the others.
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Visayn nods to the councilman "Mob rule like this happens when rumors and hearsay are equal with logic and scientific research. Its very dangerous."
After Kendra's speech he seems somewhat uncertain as if considering his words extremely carefully "It was sheer luck that Professor Lorrimor did not die by my hand years earlier. That day I was walking past local graveyard, when I heard strange commotion. Must be grave robbers, I thought so I drew my sword and began sneaking toward noise. Then I spotted what I thought to be an undead monstrosity devouring corpse. Without hesitation I was going to end its unholy existence, when the corpse suddenly rose up mace in hand. Only then I realized, that these weren't undead at all. They had, in fact, survived a battle against zombies and this man whom I supposed to be undead introduced himself as Professor Lorrimor and was tending his severely wounded friend. Professor was very kind man and offered me employment, which ended only few months ago. I am proud to count him as a friend."
After the funeral is over and Kendra has said her goodbyes to the other guests, she invites each of you back to her home, so recently her father’s, for a drink and to hear his last will and testament. The Lorrimor residence is a modest home with crowded bookshelves in every room. The reading of the professor’s will requires the presence of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, the closest thing Ravengro has to a solicitor, and he has some other matters to attend to after the funeral, so he doesn’t arrive for about an hour.
As the group returns to the Lorrimor house and awaits the arrival of Councilman Hearthmount, Nikolay takes the time to introduce himself. "Greetings. I am Dr. Nikolay M. Ramada, BSE, BSc, MBBS, EngD, DSc, MD, and Lecturer in Applied Galvanism at the Sincomakti School of Sciences. I study electricity and how it interacts with the humanoid body. As I said at the funeral, Petros was my mentor - he taught me almost everything I know, and he helped me develop my theory of galvanophysiology. It's a great pleasure to meet all of you..." He smiles sadly. "...though I wish it were under happier circumstances."
The pale scholar pauses for a moment to catch his breath after having rattled off his full list of credentials, then walks around the room, extending an emaciated hand ending in unnaturally long and spindly fingers to each of his fellows in turn.
His eerie features bear a mix of mourning and concern as he talks to Kendra. "I came as soon as I heard of his death - my sincerest apologies for the delay in my arrival. Unfortunately, horses... don't seem to like me, so I had to walk all the way to the county seat at Thrushmoor and take a boat. Regardless, I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man, and as I said earlier, I can't think of anyone more deserving of a peaceful afterlife. I only met you once, and briefly at that, but Petros talked all the time about how proud he was of you and how much he loved you. If there is anything I can do to help you, you need only say the word."
However, as he extends his hand to Magdali, his face shifts into a somewhat sheepish expression. "I'm afraid you were quite a bit more composed than I was during that regrettable incident in the graveyard, and for that I apologize. I have not had the chance to make your acquaintance yet, but it's always good to meet a fellow devotee of the Gray Lady. You mentioned you were from Lepidstadt? Might you, by any chance, be affiliated with the university there? I hear its theology department is renowned throughout Avistan!"
He frowns in a distracted manner as he greets Børak. "I don't believe I've met you, though I am quite bad with faces. Professor Lorrimor did mention a man with a scar who saved his life once. Your name was... Dvořák, was it not? Again, my sincerest apologies if my memory is inaccurate."
As he moves on to Visayn, he greets the young sylph with a weak smile. "On the other hand, I am quite certain I have never met you in my life, but any friend of Petros Lorrimor is a friend of mine."
The sylph's hair wiggle without apparent reason as he stares warily at others. He finds a seat and sits down as Nikolay begins introduction "Greetings, my name's Visayn, son of farmers from tiny hamlet, less than a dozen farmsteads, about day's travel north of city of Lepidstadt. My pale skin and otherworldly heritage comes from my mom." he falls silent for what feels weirdly long
He brushes off memories and continues "As I said in my eulogy speech, my first encounter with him wasn't my brightest moment so I'd rather not repeat embarrassing details. But working for him was certainly best time in my life. Most likely I have met at least one of you at some point in my life, even though my memory doesn't serve at the moment."
"Dr. Ramada, you had known him professionally for quite long. We must have met while I was running his errands, even if we didn't speak much then. And Magdali, you are from Lepidstadt? I have visited the Church there on several occasions."
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Waiting as the others head towards the gate of the graveyard Børak brings up the rear. Keeping his hood pulled over his head, he still keeps a keen eye out, to make sure that none of the peasants from earlier were following them. Eventually reaching the Lorrimor residence, he softly breaths a sigh of relief. Remembering the home from the several times he'd visited.
Børak steps in the door and turns towards the coat hooks on the wall. Leaning his bardiche there he drops the rucksack on the floor, resting it so the attached shield and helm lean against the wall. taking his heavy leather cloak off, he hangs it on one of the wooden posts provided for such things. He pauses and considers pulling his boots off and leaving them by the door as he'd seen the professor do many times, but realizing the shape his battered socks were in, he decided to remain shod.
As he moves through the comfortable living room he nods to Visayn, who'd been the professor's security for years. Walking to the far side of the room, he sat down in the hard oak chair with the bent wood back. It wasn't the most comfortable choice, but it gave him a good view of the door, and it set him a little distance from the others. Relaxing as best he could while he wore his breastplate and weapons belt, Børak split his attention from the door, to watching Kendra to listening to the other pallbearers as they spoke.
When Ramada started speaking, Børak looked more closely at the man's features, the red reptilian eyes, the sharp teeth and the slightly forked tongue. He thought he remembered the professor saying something about the fellow being a tiefling, but he wasn't sure. Either way Ramada shouldn't be too prejudice against Børak's bloodline. Realizing the 'Doctor' had gotten up and was moving around to shake people's hands, Børak stood to greet him, raising an eyebrow as the fellow said he didn't think they'd met.
Extending his own beefy hand, Drake once had called them, 'strangler's hands.' He wasn't sure what it meant, other than they were long and thick and, now that he was older, covered in hair on the back of his hand and on his knuckles. Firmly shaking Ramada's hand, he answered, "Close, it's Børak. We met once, I'd escorted the professor to the Sincomakti School so he could hear your lecture." He nods towards the leather cloak he'd left hanging on a hook. "But you'd probably remember the hood better. I tend to keep my face covered as much as possible when in public."
Taking his seat, he watched as the Doctor greeted the professors old bodyguard, not surprised that Ramada had not remembered Visayn. If the good doctor could forget Børak's face, he could forget anyone. As the doctor took his seat and Visayn began to speak, Børak was surprised that the fellow practically began the conversation discussing his heritage. It always surprised him how easily folks discussed their family and race. Of course, Ramada hadn't talked about being a tiefling either. But sylphs aren't persecuted like Tieflings or Skinwalkers.
As Visayn continued, Børak remembered the professor telling him the story about meeting the young famers boy. Of course when the professor told it, 'He'd almost killed the young rogue instead of vise versa. As Visayn continued speaking, Børak realized he'd addressed the young lady Madali who was apparently from Lepidstadt. Shifting in his seat, Børak turned towards the lady, hoping she would share a little about herself. She was certainly more interesting to look at than either of the other two.
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Magdali had been more comfortable at the funeral than she is at the gathering afterward. She knows funerals well. She's never officiated of course, she isn't clergy, but there are always chores and details to be attended to.
She's inclined to find similar things to do now, something to keep her occupied, let her blend into the background. It's not that Magdali is bad with people, far from it, but she seems to be the only person present who has never met a single other person present before. It makes her feel a little like an intruder.
When the Doctor introduces himself she takes his offered hand, but with some unease that she feels embarrassed about. She likes him, everything he has said implies kindness and intelligence, but there is an uncanniness about him physically that makes it hard to want to touch him.
She smiles anyway, and it is a beautiful smile. She looks more natural, more in possession of herself, than she does usually. It hints her usual serious, slightly somber expression is a well-practiced mask, one cultivated to fit in among her Pharasman peers.
Magdali replies to Dr. Ramada's question in the negative. "I have no connection to Lepidstadt University. I live at Gravecharge Cathedral, and have been educated there almost exclusively. The lecture of Professor Lorimor's I attended was an unusual exception. Occasionally there are recommended speakers or lectures elsewhere. I was on a fieldtrip I suppose you could call it."
Magdali has to ask in return "forgive my ignorance, but what is Galvanism exactly? What is it applied to?"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Later, when the pale man Visayn mentions visiting the Cathedral in Lepistadt, she offers a little more about her residence there.
"I've lived there for several years now, but I'm not a member of the clergy. It's possible we might have seen each other in passing though. I assist the clergy where my talents can be of greatest benefit, so I am usually in the hospital. I've also accompanied priests called on to investigate reports of undead sightings a couple of times."
"The learned version of the description for what I can do is that I am a "conduit of positive energy", but mostly I'm referred to as a "fountain of life". I seem to naturally possess certain gifts that are otherwise granted through prayer and divine favor."
As Børak and Visayn correct Nikolay, the young physiologist looks concerned. "My sincerest apologies, Misters Visayn and Dv- Børak! I assure you I meant no offense with my mnemonic slip - as I said, my memory for names and faces is subpar!" He looks genuinely worried that his fellow pallbearers have taken his absent-mindedness the wrong way.
At Magdali's question, however, his facial expression changes almost immediately from anxious concern to a mixture of relief and excitement as he turns to the Pharasmin. He beams in enthusiasm, an eerily wide smile stretching across his face and revealing a mouthful of fangs for a moment, though he quickly remembers himself and returns his face to a more neutral look - oblivious as he is, he recognized Magdali's unease when shaking his hand, and he suspects she will not be particularly understanding if she discovers his daemonic heritage. "There is no need to apologize, Miss Kiritescu! My field is an obscure one, and few have even heard the name. Galvanism - so named for its discoverer, the Korvosan scholar Galva Fiorelli - is the behavior of objects charged with electrical energy. You have heard of the 'trick' wherein rods of glass or amber are rubbed against something soft, such as a scrap of fur or a piece of cloth? Fiorelli proposed that this action artificially transferred the electrical charge from the one to the other and that the differential thus formed returns to equilibrium by the nature of the universe, expressing itself in phenomena like lightning."
He begins to pace back and forth as he speaks, obviously glad to talk on this subject. "Naturally, the charges required to do anything useful require production by magical means or a precise alchemical admixture, but the characteristics exhibited by these electrified items are wide-ranging and astounding - from attraction and repulsion of both charged and uncharged objects to the creation of light! As for your second question, the available applications are numerous: I myself am working on the use of this charge in medicine, stimulating muscles and organs no longer under mental control for some reason or another, while an engineer I spoke with recently hoped to use it to create an automatic centrifuge - not the hand-cranked ones we have now, but one running under its own power."
Nikolay looks around at his fellow mourners. "My sincerest apologies - I must be boring you." The scientist moves over to a comfortable chair near the window and sits down. If nobody else speaks for some time, he selects a book from a nearby shelf and begins to read.
He remained like a shadow, as he quietly followed the group. Entering the residence he noted how it smelled, of ink, parchment, and something more... He took off his traveling cloak placing it upon the wooden peg next to Borak's items. His pack and bow were left behind at the entrance as well. He did take off his shoes revealing bony feet with some leaves wrapping them. He continued to walk heavily supported on his quarterstaff. He walked into the room and promptly found a seat. Then he stated out loud more to himself, "Ah it is a nice comfortable couch, though my bones miss the woods."
He remains in his seat making others come to him. He looks up at the group and states in his elderly way, "Greetings younglings. Sorry for my lack of decorum, my old bones have not felt the spryness of youth for many years. I am Drake Windfall, the Whisper of the Shudderfall. Mentor to Borak. I knew the professor professionally, we met about once a year when he traveled through. I remember him as a young scholar and bumbling so loudly through the woods. Though most are loud and don't even know it. I digress. I am sorry for each of your loss. Borak should I tell them the story of the tower? I don't think I have even told you about it before. As every few hundred years it is just easier to forget the past." He has to stop every third word to catch his breath and then about every dozen words he coughs. He accepts an offered drink if provided to him with his thanks.
Once everyone has quieted down and request the story. He takes a moment before starting, "This is a condensed version of my history with this village, or more precisely what it was before. Yes your histories will tell about the forming of this village and the prison. But it is much older than that. There used to be fifteen towers around the area. Grand tall majestic creations of the elves. It took many years but we have that in spades. War came through orcs, goblins, and other more monstrous creatures descended upon our small city. Many fell on both sides but they were repelled by our heroes. Wanderlust took over me more than many of my breatheren and I traveled the world. Though something always brought me back. I never returned to the towers themselves but stayed in the wild lands and eventually found my place in the Shudderwood. What you call Harrowstone is formed out of the main tower of our ancient city. It likely holds up the structure that the humans created around it. But the foundations are likely still in place. I just wonder how many foundations remain. Being underground and perserved there are likely many wonders to be found. There is one treasure that I wanted to share with you, that in the wrong hands could prove unfortunate. The heart of the tower, is a magical crystal that remains deep in the tower. It is the main reason I would like to venture within Harrowstone."
Vashian arrives precisely on time, in any event. No Sense Motive check is necessary to note that he doesn’t completely approve of strangers being involved in local matters, but he keeps his comments to himself, focusing his involvement entirely on the reading of Petros’s will. Kendra isn’t sure what’s contained in the will, since part of its stipulation was that all of the 'group' must be present for its reading. Councilman Vashian produces a scroll case, shows that the professor’s personal seal is unbroken, then breaks the wax and opens the case. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the tube, clattering noisily onto the table. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read, eager to be done with the business and to get back home.
“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.
Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this
document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading
of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in
attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I
have two final favors to ask.
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.
I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this
first day of Calistril, in the year present year….”
Watching and listening as Magdali and Ramada began conversing, he soon grew board with the conversation about Galvanism. Instead of focusing on the specifics of the words he watched the people in the room; facial expression, posture, the details of their clothes, the way they shifted or moved when they were talking or listening or pretending to be listening as the stared out the window. He didn't completely understand why some folks did what they did, or thought the way they did, but learned that if he was perceptive, he might see something others did not.
----------------------
When his old friend Drake joined the conversation, Børak gave his old mentor his undivided attention. He'd learned several years ago that if Drake was speaking then he had something to say. Børak had heard bits of the story before, but not the whole thing. It wasn't uncommon for civilizations to build on the foundation of other civilizations, even the uncivilized knew that. But this 'magical crystal' had captured his imagination and he would like to venture into harrowstone with his old friend. He watched the others to see what their reactions were.
----------------------
When Vashian arrives, Børak reached towards his head to pull his hood over his face, and realized he'd left the cloak at the door. Frowning, he slouched slightly, tucking his head; trying to be unnoticeable as possible. Listening as the will was read, he'd occasionally sneak glances at Kendra, and then the others. He'd be happy to stick around and help Kendra anyway possible, money or no. The trip to Lepidsadt was not much of an inconvenience, he didn't have any jobs lined up anyway, and Lepidsadt was as good of a place as any to make a little money hunting ghosts. As the will reading came to an end Børak raised an eyebrow at Embreth's name, he pondered for a moment, trying to recall her face.
: Visayn seems interested in Dr. Ramada's features, but doesn't say anything. "No need to apologize, Doctor." he then turns his gaze to man sitting on far side and offers to shake hands "Pleasure to meet you, Børak. I recall you were ready to stand up to those wanting disturb funeral. You seem to be a fearless warrior."
: He raises his eyebrows at the mention of valuable tomes "All right, we have one month to spend here. I'd like to read the books, they might contain some useful information who knows."
Immediately after "...-is the behavior of objects charged with electrical energy." Magdali is completely lost. She's never heard of amber rods, or rubbing them with soft things, or any of the rest. She continues to listen attentively, displaying interest; she doesn't want to be rude. She nods occasionally while still wearing her pleasant smile, offering an "uh huh" or a "mmm" when it seems like the right time.
It's not terrible or anything like that. Magdali did get a partial enough answer, 'electricity stuff', to be satisfied.
After a second unhappy handshake that leaves Magdali wondering about the old elf's health, she's quite ready to get on with the reading of the will.
She's still surprised and puzzled by Professor Lorrimor's remembrance and regard for her. For what she has heard said by the others present, they all knew the Professor in a professional capacity of some type, and for some extended amount of time. Magdali had though only rarely of her single encounter with the Professor since it occurred, and hadn't place any great significance on it.
To be gifted such a huge amount of money by him is stunning, as is his request for her to take on two tasks that he clearly thought to be of great importance. It is humbling yet flattering at the same time.
Magdali doesn't even have to consider accepting. The structure of the will makes receiving the money contingent on remaining in Ravensgrow for a month and then returning the books. But all of that is fine with her. She will be going back to Lepidstadt anyway so it is not even an out of the way journey. She has never been so far away from home before, and quite enjoyed the journey. She also finds a month of freedom from her normal daily routine at the cathedral attractive.
Besides, it is well known that those who die with unfinished business in life are among the most likely to spontaneously rise as undead. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure; so completing the Professor's business is an excellent preventative measure. Magdali doesn't delay in confirming her acceptance of the will's conditions.
"If I will be here for a month, I will need to find accommodations. Is there a place nearby with rooms for rent?"
Nikolay walks over to the couch and extends a hand in greeting before returning to his seat near the window. He seems genuine in his pleasure to meet Drake, though he does look concerned at his seeming ill health. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Windfall. Are you well? I do have some skill as a physician, if you need aid." He looks the elderly elf up and down, examining him with his strange "sixth sense" and watching the flow of "sparks" through his body - he fears Børak's mentor may be near death. "If you feel robust enough, I would like to hear your tale, though I caution you not to tax yourself too heavily - you seem extremely ill."
As Drake tells his tale, the young tiefling listens intently, though he continues to worry about the old ranger's health. At its conclusion, the scholar's crimson eyes gleam as he speaks. "This tale sounds truly fascinating, Mister Windfall. If we receive permission to conduct an expedition into Harrowstone, I would quite like to accompany you. I have relatively little expertise in such matters myself, but Sincomakti is renowned for its archaeological department - I'm sure I could request an extension to my leave of absence from the school if I could bring back some rubbings of inscriptions or the like."
As the iron key falls out of the scroll tube, Nikolay picks it up and examines it while the will is read. After the reading, he thinks for a moment before speaking. "I will have to write some letters back to Rozenport, but I should be able to remain for some time and carry out Professor Lorrimor's last wishes. I will gladly take these dangerous tomes to the University, though I do agree with Visayn that we may as well see what is contained within them." He turns to Kendra. "Of course, I am grateful to Petros for his generosity, but the hundred platinum pieces were not necessary - as I said earlier, if there is anything I can do to help, Kendra, you need only say the word and it is done. Now, as it seems we will be spending a month in Ravengro, I may as well try to help others while I am here. Does anyone know if this town has a doctor or some sort of apothecary?"
Councilman Vashian looks to Kendra, who thanks him, "Thank you Councilman Vashian, you are dismissed." Putting on a brave face, Kendra thanks you again for coming, and informs you, "I will need at least a few weeks to decide if I want to sell my family home or remain here in Ravengro. In the meantime, as stipulated by the will, I ask that you to remain as well. The rooms in my spacious... house... you may use and meals will be provided for the month. Excuse me I will go fetch the chest mentioned in the will."
The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and iron. Kendra, nervous about the contents, offers the key to the room, stating, ”I will let one of you have the honor of opening the chest.” The key fits the lock perfectly, and within are several old tomes and one relatively new one. The newest tome sits on the top and bears the phrase “Read me now!” scratched into the leather cover.
This book is Petros Lorrimor’s journal. The other tomes comprise the books of dangerous lore
mentioned in his will—three of these have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. The fourth, Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye, has a note indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse (although the note asks for this delivery in
particular to be handled discreetly, and includes the address of Embreth’s home so that you can deliver it there). These books are summarized below.
• Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye: The rich purple cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center. The book’s covers are rimmed in polished steel and clasped with a small but intricate lock, the keyhole of which appears to be for a key with a strange, triangular shaft. The key is nowhere to be found.
Varisian.
society whose members have deep interests in all things political and arcane.
• 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-Kuthon.
Nikolay stands closely by while one of his fellow pallbearers inserts the iron key into the coffer's lock. As he sees the pile of books within, he picks up the one with the note on its cover, only to pause as he spots the scarab symbol on the cover of the book beneath. He sets the journal aside and picks up the steel-bound book. "I recognize this symbol. It's the sigil of a club known as the Esoteric..." The absent-minded scholar wracks his memory for a piece of information he never paid much attention to in the first place. "...something-or-other. A few of the scholars at the School have pins with this symbol on it - most of the members of the library staff, as well as several professors in the archaeology department." He shrugs. "I asked Dean Antonescu about it once, and she told me that the members meet every second Wealday evening to discuss old books, nothing more. I was under the impression it was a harmless group, but the inclusion of its sigil among these dark tomes makes me question my earlier judgement."
He gives the other three books a cursory glance, reading the notes within. "I know Professor Crowl by reputation - Dean Meirtmane recommends his Lepidstadtian counterpart quite highly." He takes the scarab-embossed book back to his chair and examines the complex lock. "I've never seen a book with so intricate a locking mechanism. Give me a moment..." From a large pouch on his belt, Nikolay pulls a hefty roll of leather. Unrolling it to reveal an array of precisely bent pieces of metal, he selects two and bends over the lock...
...only to straighten abruptly as his picks slip, muttering a curse under his breath. "By the waters..." Bending over the book again, he sets to work slower and more methodically, giving the professor's other friends time to act as he fishes in the small lock with his tools.
After a couple of minutes, there is an audible click as the lock springs open. The young scientist flips through the book for a few moments before looking up and speaking to the other pallbearers, pointing to various sketches in the book as he speaks. "At first glance, these sections look like arcane diagrams, and these look like mathematical formulae of some kind, but unfortunately, I can't understand this language. I know a formula for a serum that should overstimulate the language center of my brain, giving me drastically increased linguistic skill..." He clears his throat. "...if you don't mind the side effects, that is...but I'm afraid the formula calls for very specific and very lengthy mixing times. I should have a vial ready by tomorrow, at which point I can continue my study of this book."
Visayn listened Drake's story of the tower with great interest Raising his gaze from tomes for a moment, he visits the old elf "Greetings, Mr. Windfall. You remember me, when I accompanied Lorrimor several times through woods? Certainly I recognize you, but this is first I heard tale of the Tower. I'm sure we have much to talk."
He seems almost stunned by extravagant inheritance left by Lorrimor spending some time counting money and then picks tome titled "Serving Your Hunger", finds a quiet spot and starts to read.
Magdali is more dubious about the books. Professor Lorrimor himself described them as dark and dangerous. She wonders what kind of effect handling or reading them might have on a person.
She leaves the handling, browsing, and reading to the others, content with a bit of looking over shoulders and viewing them from a distance.
Nodding politely to the scout, Børak chuckles, "Fearless is a stretch. I just don't like bullies."
Raising an eyebrow as the 'Doctor' tries to examine his old friend Børak wonders if Drake will suffer being poked and prodded. Almost relieved that Ramada changes the subject to the old ruins.
As the others voice their intent Børak gives an almost imperceptible nod, chiming in. "I'll stay as well."
Once the Councilman leaves Børak relaxes a little. Considering the offer to stay in her home, he believes that one 'full moon' wouldn't put much strain on anyone as long as he kept to himself. Pulling his thoughts back to the meeting he realized Kendra had already headed to get the chest. When she returns, he watches as no one moves forwards to open the box. Sighing he takes the iron key and the chest. Setting the chest on the lamp stand, he opens the chest and seeing tomes and books, steps back so the more scholarly of them can inspect it.
Not surprised that the 'Doctor' was familiar with the symbol and some of the other material. Raising an eyebrow when the intellectual produces a set of locks smith's tools and begins fumbling with one of the books. He's also surprised when the former bodyguard takes out a particular book, curling up in a corner and started to read. Looking across the room, he sees Magdali observing from a distance. Moving to her side of the room he nods towards Ramada, "I didn't expect that it would be the good doctor picking the locks on anything, let alone a book."
Visayn listened Drake's story of the tower with great interest Raising his gaze from tomes for a moment, he visits the old elf "Greetings, Mr. Windfall. You remember me, when I accompanied Lorrimor several times through woods? Certainly I recognize you, but this is first I heard tale of the Tower. I'm sure we have much to talk."
He nods, and states, "Yes your face is familiar but I am horrible with names. Most of my family died in that horrible fight so not many know of those times. I am sure there is much to talk about."
I am having troubles tracking down any information on her.
Judge Embreth Daramid,
She is a fair and kind judge, always looking for the truth even if it is hard.
Ah the next book! Here it is:
well respected for her even temper and fairness. Embreth
Daramid (NG female old human aristocrat 3/expert 4) is one
of the justices of Vieland and a magistrate of Lepidstadt,
but she is also a member of the Esoteric Order of the
Palatine Eye, a secret society of elite thinkers and scholars
with a tradition of mysticism
of the justices of Vieland and a magistrate of Lepidstadt,
Nikolay walks over to the couch and extends a hand in greeting before returning to his seat near the window. He seems genuine in his pleasure to meet Drake, though he does look concerned at his seeming ill health. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Windfall. Are you well? I do have some skill as a physician, if you need aid." He looks the elderly elf up and down, examining him with his strange "sixth sense" and watching the flow of "sparks" through his body - he fears Børak's mentor may be near death. "If you feel robust enough, I would like to hear your tale, though I caution you not to tax yourself too heavily - you seem extremely ill."
Drake smiles at the doctor and lets you inspect him.
"This tale sounds truly fascinating, Mister Windfall. If we receive permission to conduct an expedition into Harrowstone, I would quite like to accompany you. I have relatively little expertise in such matters myself, but Sincomakti is renowned for its archaeological department - I'm sure I could request an extension to my leave of absence from the school if I could bring back some rubbings of inscriptions or the like."
He coughs and then replies, "Please send for permission today."
"Maybe he's good with mechanical things" Magdali responds to Borak. "He mentioned something about using electricity to make some kind of machine run all by itself."
The majority of the entries in the journal are relatively bland, accounting for day-to-day activities in a small town. The professor has circled several entries in the book with red ink, though, and it is these entries he wanted his friends to pay particular attention to. The final entry, dated 17 days ago, was written on the same day the Professor’s body was found.
She calmly explains, "I have been away at the academy for the last four months. But look here at the last entries and the others circled in red. The Whispering Way, a cult of necromancers to say the least, he was trying to thwart. They had an interest in Harrowstone and that is where he died. Maybe doing some research on the Whispering Way or those who died in the fire? Feel free to use this library but there are other collections of books that could be useful in researching as well."
Kendra offers to let the PCs use
her father’s personal library to research, free of charge
and regardless of the PCs’ current Trust point total.
Lorrimor’s library provides a +2 bonus on all Knowledge
checks made to research the Whispering Way.
The records kept at the town
hall provide a +2 bonus on all Knowledge checks made
to research Harrowstone or the Five Prisoners, but the
town council normally does not allow visitors to use
the building at all. A DC 25 Diplomacy check is enough
to convince the council to let one PC use the site. Once
the PCs accumulate at least 31 Trust points, though, the
council lets the entire party use the site for research.
The temple of Pharasma has
extensive notes on the town’s history, and is perhaps the
best site for research. Using the temple’s records grants
a +4 bonus on all Knowledge checks made to research
Harrowstone, the Five Prisoners, or the Whispering Way,
but securing permission to use this site for research
requires a DC 25 Diplomacy check or a Trust score of 30.
This building is a combination
schoolhouse and magic item shop run by one Alendru
Ghoroven; using its small library provides a +2 bonus
on all Knowledge checks made to research Harrowstone.
It cannot be used to research the Whispering Way at all.
Alendru asks for a 10 gp payment for each day that he
allows anyone to use his school’s resources, unless the PCs
reach a Trust point total of 27, at which point he waives
the fee and allows PCs to use the library free of charge.
"Please send for permission today."
Nikolay nods at Drake's words. "I will write to my colleagues at Sincomakti today, and I will ask permission from the town council to investigate the ruins as soon as possible."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Setting aside the encoded tome, the eerie tiefling moves over to the chest and flips through the professor's journal. "It seems this "Whispering Way" is some sort of wicked organization with some interest in Harrowstone and its inhabitants. If Professor Lorrimor was attempting to thwart them, his collection would naturally have books with some information on the organization. In my apprenticeship to the late professor, I believe I learned the idiosyncrasies of his filing system. I will begin research here as soon is convenient - by your leave, that is, Miss Kendra."
He begins to browse the shelves, selecting several likely-looking books and paging through them in search of information on the Whispering Way.
Magdali hear the book titles among the conversations and recognizes them although she isn't privy to the details of their contents, which she feels is for the best. She feels she must speak out, at least so the others will be aware of the dangers they are exposing themselves to.
"I would take care in reading such texts, or better yet leave them unread. Their contents are dark and twisted, of deepest evil. Once you know their contents, you cannot unknow them. Don't taint your minds or burden your thoughts with their vile philosophies and teachings."
On Verified Madness:
Serving Your Hunger:
The Umbral Leaves:
Instead of researching right away, Magdali asks Borak to help her move a mid-sized and weighty truck, her luggage, to the room Miss Kendra has assigned to her.
Nodding at Magdali's comment about 'machinery' Børak watches the 'doctor' wondering how educated the man is, and whether that education has to do with healing the human body. It would be hard for Børak to believe that one of the professor's friends could be a charlatan. He watches as the 'doctor' and his mentor speak, but he's not close enough to hear and it's rude to eavesdrop. Maybe he would speak with his mentor later and ask about what they had spoken.
He listens as the Journal is read, and the 'doctor' comments about what they heard, Looking towards Magdali. He thought the Pharasmin was right, they should be careful with what information the spoke of and what the did with the books before they took them to Embreth Daramid. Pausing he thought about what he may have heard about Harrowston and the five prisoners, adding "Maybe a couple of us can check around town for information tomorrow."
Flipping through pages of Urgathoa's unholy book, Visayn is quickly loses interest on it and gives it to Magdali. "We haven't known each other very long. You can't really know how twisted I am." he winks
He reads the entries on Lorrimor's journal falling silent for a moment "First thing we should do, as we delve into these secrets, is to build trust with locals. That way we can gain access to libraries, which otherwise would be closed to us. We are not yet ready to go to Harrowstone."
DC 10 (50 XP): The Whispering Way is a sinister
organization of necromancers that has been active in the
Inner Sea region for thousands of years.
DC 15 (100 XP): Agents of the Whispering Way often
seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves
undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member
was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the
society itself has existed much longer than even that
mighty necromancer.
DC 20 (200 XP): The Whispering Way itself is a series of
philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers—
the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly,
making the exact goals and nature of the secretive
philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
DC 25 (400 XP): Exact details on the society are difficult
to discern, but chief among the Whispering Way’s goals are
discovering formulae for creating liches and engineering
the release of the Whispering Tyrant. Agents often travel
to remote sites or areas plagued by notorious haunts
or undead menaces to perform field research or even to
capture unique monsters. Their symbol is a gagged skull,
and those who learn too many of the Way’s secrets are
often murdered, and their mouths mutilated to prevent
their bodies from divulging secrets via speak with dead.
On Verified Madness: K Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
You know that it will talk about how people go insane. A text that is harmless if read. Unless it is read out loud or the rituals performed within its texts. You believe it has the rituals to open your mind to deeper entities that likely would warp your mind.
Serving Your Hunger: K Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
It likely speaks about undead and their neverending hunger.
The Umbral Leaves: K Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuthon. Another book that would be fine to just read, though saying any of the reading outloud or even worship towards Zon=Kuthon could be very bad.
DC 10 (50 XP): 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.
DC 15 (100 XP): 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.
DC 20 (200 XP): 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 conf lagration. 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.
The Five Prisoner: Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
You don't remember about any particular prisoner...
"I would take care in reading such texts, or better yet leave them unread. Their contents are dark and twisted, of deepest evil. Once you know their contents, you cannot unknow them. Don't taint your minds or burden your thoughts with their vile philosophies and teachings."
Nikolay responds to Magdali but does not look up from the book he is reading through. "Respectfully, Miss Kiritescu, I am inclined to disagree with your assessment. There is no such thing as inherently dark knowledge, merely morally suspect applications thereof - knowledge in and of itself is a virtue, and ignorance in and of itself is a vice. I have long believed that any information, no matter how dark its nature, can be used for good in some capacity."
Finally looking up from his task, he moves over to Visayn and peers over his shoulder at the Urgathoan religious text, finding a relevant datum to demonstrate his point. He turns his lambent red eyes towards Magdali before continuing. "For instance, according to this book, some sects of the Urgathoan faith consume infants on their cult's high holy days. Mere awareness of this fact is not inherently wicked - to partake in the aforementioned horrific feasts would of course be sinful, but this knowledge could also be used for good, helping the righteous disrupt the plans of evildoers and save innocent children. As I said, learning information is never wrong, but the way in which that information is applied can be.""We haven't known each other very long. You can't really know how twisted I am."
Nikolay nods at Visayn's words, apparently not understanding that they were intended as a joke. "Indeed. Though I doubt Petros Lorrimor would have associated with anyone truly wicked, we all know next to nothing about each other - I highly suspect that there are certain... aspects of my nature that most of you might find objectionable." As he speaks, he stares intently at the bookshelves around the room, avoiding eye contact with his fellows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the young scientist browses the shelves, he mutters to himself, recalling the unique categorization system Professor Lorrimor had used when he worked with him. "If Natural Sciences is here and Mathematics is here, then Faiths and Philosophies should be... here!" Stopping at a bookshelf near the edge of the room, he begins to look through the books. "The tomes I am looking for would be the ones of greatest import to his research. The organization is just like the line from that old poem - how did it go again?"
His spindly index finger extended, he traces along the books' spines in a spiral pattern. "Right to left, top to bottom, and at the center of the maelstrom..." The scholar smiles as he finds the books he is seeking, names like Gallowspire: A Retrospective and Whispered Secrets inked upon their covers. "...secrets told and untold."
Magdali is unimpressed with Dr. Ramada's reasoning.
"Hmpf, a hallmark of evil is it's inability to recognize its own nature. Few are those are those evil people who wake each day and say to themselves 'let me go forth and do great evil'. The many instead say 'my wants and desires are the true good, let me go forth and satisfy them'. But, do as you will. I will not hazard such risks."
Visayn's reply doesn't merit a response from her.
As Børak considered what he know about Harrowstone prison, he realized he knew absolutely nothing about the prisoners themselves. Thinking about checking one of the books, he heard the 'doctor's' answer to Magdali. He considered Ramada's argument. no 'evil knowledge' must dictate that there was no 'good knowledge' either. Shaking his head, the argument made sense but it didn't feel right to Børak. There was knowledge of good and evil, but maybe it was in the actions they took, not what they 'knew.' But wouldn't exposure to great evil make the acceptance of 'lesser evils' easier or justifiable? As Magdali rebuffed the 'doctor's' argument, Børak considered his mother's willingness to sacrifice him since he wasn't the 'perfect' gift she'd prayed for.
Hearing Visayn's tone of voice when he comments to Magdali, Børak brought his attention back to the group. He smiles seeing Visayn wink, but has to bite his tongue when Ramada speaks about Visayn's potential wickedness. It was true, sort of, Børak knew of Ramada and Visayn both. It was Magdali he'd not heard of. Shaking his head, he tries to stick up for the sylph, "Leave him alone Ramada, he's no worse than you or me."
Realizing that wasn't saying much for Visayn, Børak quickly changes the subject. "I'm pretty familiar with Harrowstone prison, but I don't know anything about any of the prisoners that were in attendance when it burned." Moving towards the books he asks, "Do any of these give us much information about the prisoners?"