You have been summoned to Ravengro to attend the funeral of Professor Petros Lorrimor. Each of you know the Professor, and to a degree his daughter Kendra. It was she who sent you the invitations, whether you were in town already or some distance away.
Kendra is an attractive woman of 25 years. Her eyes are red and puffy from mourning.
"I am glad you are here. Nobody else has traveled here to pay their respects to my father, nobody from Lepidstadt. Nobody from the University. And with things the way they are in town these days, there are very few locals from Ravengro who came out. Even though we have lived here for fifteen years.
We shall have more time to talk after the burial. For now, may I ask which among you are willing to serve as pallbearers?"
The petite Varisian woman was of an age with Kendra, though lacking her comely looks and easy manner. Her complexion and hair were dark and her features delicate but sharp. The tinted lenses she wore both magnified and obscured her eyes, which flitted about nervously, her gaze never resting anywhere long. She was dressed in somber hues, quite fitting to the occasion.
She'd met Kendra before but infrequently enough that they were barely acquainted. "Really? That doesn't seem right... an oversight, surely." She offered politely. Idly, she wondered why such unattendance might be...
She ducked her head apologetically, holding out her slim arms in acknowledgement of the slightness of her own frame. "I fear I'm not physically suited to the task. 'The spirit is willing but...' Well, you know the rest. I will try, however, if needs must. You have my condolences, of course." She added with a nod.
Standing a bit awkwardly in the Professor's home, Theodore absently scratches at his salt and pepper beard.
Certainly a misfortune for us all. Your father, Kendra, was most gracious to a younger me. It has been decades since I last spoke to him. I do hope he lead a happy life.
Dressed entirely in black (with silver trimming), the tall Ustalavian carries a cane. The only adornments are an iron holy symbol of Pharasma tucked into his belt, opposite a sheathed dagger. A satchel across his body bulges a bit.
The Exorcist frowns .
Nobody? That does seem odd. If memory serves, the Professor was well respected. Definitely odd, although this is Ustalav. Pall bearer? I would be honored. Pharasma's embrace he shall receive.
Theodore then introduces himself to the young lady present.
My manners. Theodore Samuel Walden Carter. Professional Roaming Exorcist at your service. How did you know the Professor?
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Theodore then introduces himself to the young lady present.
My manners. Theodore Samuel Walden Carter. Professional Roaming Exorcist at your service. How did you know the Professor?
Ismene turns to peer up at the man addressing her through her tinted lenses, blinking her magnified eyes at him owlishly. "Oh, I was his student, briefly. He also arranged for my continued education, very charitable of him, really. Ismene Albus, Chemist." She replied, offering her hand and wondering if having half as many names put her at any sort of disadvantage in his estimation.
Quinn was also within a year or two of Kendra and Ismene, and he stood with an easy way about him with a briefcase and hat in his hand. He's wearing a somewhat shabby suit, fashionable five years ago but weathered and mended now. He stands a bit shorter than Theodore, but he fills out his suit with a solid frame and sturdy muscle. He speaks with a moneyed Lastwallian accent, giving the overall impression that while he came from wealth, he's had a difficult time keeping it.
"Kendra, it would be wonderful to see you again but for the worst of circumstances. You and your father were a light in dark times, and rest assured that you have my support if there are any affairs that I can handle, and I would be most honored to serve as a pallbearer." He appears that he would have little trouble handling the task.
He turns to address the rest of meager assembly. "Quinn Harwood, Esquire, at your service of course. I served as a subject of study to Professor Lorrimor for a malady that, well...in any case I have helped him navigate the legal world of Caliphas on a few occasions since, and I like to think that we have remained epistolary friends."
A woman possessing dark brown hair, peppered with encroaching gray busts through door huffing and puffing as if she had been running. She wears a black Pingat day dress, carelessly torn and muddied at the hem. Around her neck she sports a gaudy golden amulet, set with a bright red ruby that sparks with an unearthly glow.
She speaks in a hurried tone catching her breath between words, ”Sorry… I’m… late!...”
She offers Kendra a hug, ”My condolences!”
As Kendra explains the situation she looks aghast, ”Really!? No one! Why, I have half a mind to march into the university and give Dr. West and professor Ashley a piece of my mind.”
She switches gears swiftly and nods with inappropriate enthusiasm, ”A pallbearer. Of course!”
It’s then that she notices the rest of the people in the room, ”Oh how rude of me! Theophania Carter, the Great Tiff, short in stature, tall in power, narrow of purpose and wide of vision. Tiff is fine if you’re in a hurry.”
She offers a polite nod to each of professor Lorrimor’s associates who bothered to share in Kendra’s grief before she notices her estranged elder brother and embraces him warmly, ”Sammy! It’s been far too long. I wish we could have reunited under better circumstances.”
My pleasure, dear ..
Still politely taking Ismene's offered hand, the tall gentleman pauses his etiquette to stare blue eyes at his younger sister blustering into the room. A smile crosses his lips as he politely presses them to the young Miss' hand.
Yes. Certainly, my pleasure to make your acquaintances.
Theodore turns his blue eyes to bow to Quinn's introduction also.
Theodore Samuel Walden Carter, Roaming Exorcist, at your service, Mister Harwood.
The black cladded gentleman then approaches his ungainly sibling.
Theophania, my dearest sister. How have you've been? Yes. Quite the tragedy.
A well dressed and handsome Varisian man enters. He is probably in his late 20s or early 30s. Although none of them are particularly obviously, if you look closely you will see a starknife on his hip, the symbol of Desna around his throat, and the fact that he is wearing a fine chain shirt under his clothing. He puts down a travelling Lyre as he walks into the room
"Hello everybody. My name is Marill. I was privileged to be a friend to Professor Lorrimor"[/b[
Turning towards Kendra
[b]"Although we've never met I clearly recognize you from the descriptions that your good father gave me in his letters. I truly and sincerely offer my condolences. The world has lost a fine man and I have lost a friend. If I heard correctly as I came in you are looking for pallbearers? I would be honoured to perform that last service for the Professor"
"Well, Miss...? Albus, Mister Marill, Mister Walden, The Great Miss Carter, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Any friend of the Professor's must be a most upstanding and interesting person, and I am sure my life will be richer knowing you as it has been knowing him."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kendra turns to Theodore. "He did drift apart from his colleagues over time, though I know he kept up correspondence with some of them - as he did with Quinn and Marill here."
She curtseys to the various gentlemen. "Welcome to my home. Thank you for coming to pay your respects."
Kendra is somewhat taken aback by Tiff's energy, but accepts the embrace and returns it, if rather stiffly and formally. "Perhaps it was just an inconvenient time, or they are busy with important matters of their own. One, a Professor Armitage, wrote that 'he was sorry the Professor had passed on but he had great hopes of speaking to him again soon.' We should hope that he does not say such things widely. I burned the letter."
Kendra takes you to the entrance to the Restlands, the town's cemetery. A small handful of villagers are present. Petros Lorrimar was on the town council, so some of those present are his fellow Councilors. The attendees are:
Theodore, Quinn, Tiff, and Marill take up positions as pallbearers. Vashian Hearthmount and Zokar Elkarid join them.
Kenda walks in front, followed by the coffin, then Ismene, and then the other attendees. She leads the procession down the Dreamwake, a gravel pathway that winds through the cemetery.
It is a cold and foggy day, 18 Calistril (late winter). Rounding the corner onto the path called the Eversleep, you find the way blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals. They are unarmored, and carry hammers, hoes, sickles, rakes, and pitchforks. The tallest of these toughs is an elderly but wiry fellow with the bearing of a soldier.
"That’s far enough," growls the tall man. "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 at the site! The grave’s already been dug!"
"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."
Kendra is clearly burning to respond, but the PCs can jump in here if they wish.
Theodore makes a clearing his throat sound. It sounded fake.
Gentlemen. Perhaps, we could convert this conversation to, perhaps, a less cold, uncomfortable climate? Tis weather does a wonder on my arthritis. Knees.
The tall Ustalavian's blue eyes meet the other tall, elderly...fellow.
You? I wager it's the knees. Arrow?
The Pharasman then faux stretches his shoulders.
Conversely, I am a proper physician.
Marill waits to see if Theodores attempts to talk them down seem to work. He does put his hand on his star knife, ready to draw and throw it should it become necessary
As a pallbearer, Marill has both hands on the casket.
Drawing a weapon would definitely be seen as a hostile act; even taking a hand off the casket to be prepared to draw a weapon, quite possibly so (and would suddenly place more weight on the other bearers).
It is clear by the way the villagers hold their weapons that they are untrained in their use, and their scythes are not of the military kind.
What does Marill do? Add his voice to Theodore's? Take a hand off the casket to prepare for battle? Wait and see?
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Ismene hesitates... she did not wish to make things worse for Kendra, she did still make her home here after all. 'Superstitious fools' she thinks to herself, but strolls forward calmly to address the makeshift mob. She slides her lenses up the bridge of her nose, her demeanor coolly imperious.
"Gentlemen," She says, struggling not to imbue that term with exactly as much irony as seemed appropriate under the circumstances. "You have clearly heard some worrisome rumors that you feel warrant this unneighborly action. And while I would be quite confident in assuring you that such rumors have been exaggerated in the telling, I believe I would save everyone much time by informing you that even were your premise correct, your conclusion is erroneous."
"One of two things is true;" She states, counting the points off on her gloved fingers. "Either Professor Lorrimor was merely a researcher who died unfortunately and you are now harassing and illegally detaining his grieving daughter from seeing to her father's final rest as familial duty demands of her. In which case, these efforts are pointless. Or..." Ismene gives Kendra an apologetic glance before she ticks off the second point and finishes her argument.
"The remains of this man might indeed represent some supernatural threat to the community here. In which case, the only solution would be to inter his remains in hallowed ground posthaste thus nullifying any evil influence and ensuring his soul passes on to judgement with all expediency. To do otherwise is to risk unleashing danger upon us all!" She pronounces dramatically and with complete conviction.
"Either way, the only decision is to let us be about our business. Don't you think?"
Quinn shifts his weight a smidgen to carry his portion of the load better at a standstill and waits for his moment to chime in.
"I'll leave the natural philosophy to the more educated, but I can tell you fine folk what I know of the Professor, and in my humble experience, his work far more concerned setting the dead peaceably to rest rather than riling them up. If you'd kindly let us do the same, we can all go about our sad day without adding any extra sadness into the mix."
As Marill starts to reach for his weapon, he realizes that he needs both hands on the casket and stops the action, regripping the casket instead.
He turns to the mob "the professor was no necromancer, he was a good man. But we're strangers here and you have no real reason to trust us. Why don't we all go to Father Grimburrow I think it is. He'll know and I'm sure you all trust the good father."
Tiff says scornfully, "Have you people no shame?" Perhaps uncharacteristically she allows the others who are much better at speaking intervene.
The tall man softens a bit as Theodore takes a gentle and sympathetic approach. He nods as the physician notes the source of his limp.
The crowd behind him is then thoroughly confused by Ismene's lecture. While two or three seem simply angry at her use of big words like 'erroneous" and "expediency", the rest are whispering to each other for clarification.
Quinn's calming words help move the crowd, and Marill's invocation of Father Grimburrow is a very effective rebuke - none wish to offend a priest of Pharasma by defiling the cemetery with violence.
The crowd starts to disperse, glaring with hatred at the party and Kendra but nevertheless moving away. Tiff's outburst causes two to start to turn back towards the party, shaking their makeshift weapons, but their fellows grab them by the shoulders and convince them to move on.
"Thank you," says Kendra. "I fear I would have made things worse. I was so angry at them to disrespect my father so. Ignorant louts! What do farmhands and fishermen understand of his studies?"
Kendra takes a deep breath and looks around.
"I am sorry. That was unkind of me, and unfair. I spoke in anger. There are many good people in this town who do not work in the world of books and letters. I regret that my father's work, as that of many scholars in Ustalav, was often misunderstood."
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount adds, "Gebs Hephenus was always a man of low character, as were those with him. We will have the sheriff speak with him and warn him against causing further trouble."
The procession continues to the plot that Kendra had purchased for her father. Father Grimburrow waits with two gravediggers. Kendra explains the difficulty, and the priest's prodigious eyebrows register his disapproval. "I too will speak with those men," the Pharasman rasps.
"Now. We gather to inter the body of Petros Lorrimor, scholar, explorer, father, and friend. A pillar of our community for many years, and a renowned teacher from the University of Lepidstadt before that. May Pharasma judge him fairly and may his soul continue its travels."
At this point Father Grimburrow discusses the nature of the Great Beyond and the River of Souls. The knowledgeable PCs find his sermon interesting and consistent with their knowledge. One one academic point about spirit-echoes in the Astral Plane he references the interpretation of Millicent of Tamrivena rather than the more widely-accepted interpretation of Amisallan of Zimar, but this is the subject of an active and generally civil debate in the literature.
.
After about ten minutes, he concludes. "Kendra, would you wish to say a few words?"
-----
"Some of you knew my father well, others only briefly. Thank you all for coming.
About my father..." she chokes back tears.
"We all know there is danger in Ustalav, and my father sought to better understand it to protect us. There is no safety in ignorance. So he learned. And, yes, he learned magic, as did I. He used this to defend our community, our people, our world.
There was, um, I was young, it was a long time ago - I may be telling this wrong."
Kendra takes a breath and wipes her eyes.
"There were these young men. Students at the University. They had learned much of the dangers of Ustalav, and had thought to make a name for themselves by hunting down a werewolf in the countryside. They managed to slay it, but two were killed and two more were infected with lycanthropy. They came to the Professor for help. He reproached them for their foolish daring, of course - they were not as well-prepared as they thought - but he still tried to help them.
He built a cage to hold them while he worked on distilling a potent elixir of wolfsbane.
I was only nine, but even I could see that they were handsome boys. Too old for me of course, but I knew it would be a great shame for anything to happen to them. I said we could keep them in their cages during the full moon. Wolfsbane may cure the patient, but it may just as well kill them, you see? So I begged that they merely be locked up when needed, and not treated with that poison.
But the boys would not hear of it. They were confident that they were hearty and strong enough to make it, and they did not wish to live under the curse.
The elixir took a month to make, so we knew a full moon would come before it would be ready. Father forbade me from going down to see the wolves; he knew I would be curious, but the danger was too great. I begged, and he knew I wanted to see them... so at great expense to his pride he obtained the loan of a Crystal Ball from a colleague that he particularly disliked. I could watch the boys transform from the safety of my room.
It was terrifying. The wolves were both handsome and horrible. I... I can't explain. But Father kept me safe, he kept the boys safe, and he indulged my curiosity.
As to the boys... the wolfsbane worked on one. Dantilo. He survived and was cured. Father still gets - got - letters from Dantilo. He is in Thrushmoor now. I wrote to him about Father's passing, and he wrote back with his condolences, but due to some trouble in Thrushmoor he was unable to make the journey. He's married, too."
She gives a slight remorseful smile.
"The other, Marvek, the first dose did not cure him, nor did it kill him. But it weakened him. Marvek recovered his strength while Father brewed more of the elixir, and he was locked up again for the full moon. I sat with him and talked for an hour, before Father deemed it time to leave the room. 'This is tolerable, is it not?' I asked Marvek. 'You can do this. Don't risk the potion again.' But he wanted freedom.
And... ah..."
Her voice cracks.
"He died. The second dose killed him. Father sat with me to mourn him. He answered questions when I had them, he took my abuse when I vented my rage at him, he accepted my grief, and he paid for Marvek's burial."
Having sought to tell a story emphasizing the kindness and courage of Petros Lorrimor, Kendra has ended up telling one that brings her even more grief. Tears are pouring down her cheeks.
"Um... my father was a good and kind man. He helped those boys as much as he could. He helped me be curious and empathetic."
She turns to you all.
"Do any of you wish to say anything?"
Quinn steps forward. "Well, I am no werewolf, but the Professor did council me - and study me, to be fair - through a my own particular haunting. He taught me a similar lesson, that you can't win them all, but he tried to teach me something more important still: embrace the bonds that find you, even when they ain't the ones you thought you had. I'm a tough student there, but I think it's a lesson worth learning, and it would have been all the harder without him." His voice hitches a bit at the end, the lesson not one that he's had an easy time with, and Quinn's sincerity is evident.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Thank you," says Kendra. "I fear I would have made things worse. I was so angry at them to disrespect my father so. Ignorant louts! What do farmhands and fishermen understand of his studies?"
Kendra takes a deep breath and looks around.
"I am sorry. That was unkind of me, and unfair. I spoke in anger. There are many good people in this town who do not work in the world of books and letters. I regret that my father's work, as that of many scholars in Ustalav, was often misunderstood."
Ismene gave an empathetic nod in agreement with Kendra's first statement but resigns herself to a pointed sniff as her only sign of disagreement with her apology.
She was not at all surprised to hear of the Professor risking life and limb to help some students suffering under lycanthrophy. And though she had eschewed the study of poisons and their use, she knew enough to understand the danger in a concentrated elixir of wolfsbane. Simply handling it would have been a precarious operation. It was just the sort of thing the professor would do.
She wondered idly what sort of study the professor might have made of Master Harwood but there were no telltale symptoms for her to even conjecture, let alone formulate a hypothesis. When a sufficient lull had elapsed, she stepped forward to speak herself.
"It would not be an exaggeration to state that I owe Professor Lorrimor everything. I was but a half-starved waif in an overcrowded orphanage in Rozenport when he found me. I had a scrap of blank journal I had rescued from the rubbish heap. I hadn't been taught to read or write but I had filled it with my own marks and scribbles. It held meaning, but only for me. But when he examined it, he saw meaning in it too. He told me later that he'd recognized I had contrived my own sort of shorthand. I still use a form of it in my my own formulae book." She says somewhat sheepishly.
"I suppose in that moment, he saw in me some potential or likeness to his own young daughter." She meets Kendra's eyes and gives her a weak smile. "He tutored me and called upon favors to secure me an apprenticeship and later, scholarship at University. Without him, I expect I would be an ignorant washer-woman, or... well, frankly, I dread to think. He gave me the greatest gift of my life, a love of learning and a drive to use my knowledge for the betterment of all." She clears her throat, gives a sharp nod and steps back again.
Theophania marches up to the front of the group and suddenly she is at a loss for words. ”I… uh…”
She looks from Kendra to Sammy, to the new faces, finding her courage finally, ”Well, you see. I met Petros at university before I was expelled. Why I was expelled isn’t important! While our relationship wasn’t as dramatic as maledictive therianthropy remedies or contained the pulchritude of a savant nurtured to their potential, we did exchange academic letters and theories. I especially was rapt by his theories on negotiation strategies.” From here Tiff begins to give an academic lecture on the history of negotiations of Ustalav and how Lorrimor contributed to the advancement of this area of knowledge. She drones on for a while before finally concluding clearly satisfied by the reminiscence, "And that's why I knew I would never run out of things to edify myself on. All thanks to Petros."
Marill stands up in his turn and starts to speak. After a few words his voice takes on a sing song tone, almost as if he is singing
"The professor always claimed that I saved his life. And that is true in its way, I did save him. But he saved our entire village. He had no responsibility to us, we had nothing he wanted. We had abandoned him to die a lonely and horrible death. But still he saved us. That is the kind of person that he was.
I originally came from a small village out in the borderlands. One day, he stumbled into our village, nearly dead from a wound he had gotten. He openly admitted that he had been bitten by a zombie and the wound had festered.
Our village believed in the old superstitions. They believed that if you were bitten by a zombie you would come back as a zombie yourself. Seeing that wound the village drove the good professor out into the wilderness so that he would die away from the village. They were too afraid to even give him the gift of a clean death, afraid that killing an obviously rich man would bring down the anger of his friends.
I don't claim to be any better than most people, but I couldn't just see someone left to die and rot on his own so I snuck out of the village and went after him. I caught up with him and brought him to shelter in a cabin in the woods, unused except in lambing season. There I treated his wounds, brought him food, did what little I could. It turned out to be enough and instead of dying he recovered.
How did he repay what the village had done? He saved us. The village that had condemned him to an agonizing death. When the zombies attacked us one night we would surely have perished were it not for him. His mystic powers saved us.
I've never met him since that day that he left us alive. But I have corresponded with him often. It was he who arranged my enrolment in a bardic college. Oh, I was good enough to get a scholarship but he arranged my interview and I would never have had the courage to apply without his prodding nor gotten a chance without his intervention.
So. did I save him? Yes. But that is a debt that he paid off a thousand times many years ago. I am proud to consider him a friend"
Theodore patiently waits while the other participants parley plenty of pleasing portrayals of the Professor. The Pharasman nods in agreement at the correct comments cementing certainly the Professor's curious career, concerning his choice of companions. Theodore actually applauds.
As Marill finalized his performance, Theodore stands. Straightening his sleeves as he steps forward to better bring him to view, he speaks
A bit of time ago (prior to our Kendra being about), our dear Professor persuaded me to pursue a course of necessity. I was originally enrolled in University, but, due to a misunderstanding about if a sock on the ground still constituted a prohibition of entry, I found myself expelled.
The elder gentleman winks.
It does for the record.
Clearing his throat (sounded false), the Pharasman continues
Anywho. Our fine Professor found me, took me in, taught me about the real fight and encouraged my path to being a servant of Pharasma to rid this Country of it's dead denizens.
Theodore fully takes off his hat, bows grandly to the coffin and finishes with
May Pharasma judge you as we do, my friend. Good journey.
All of your stories are welcomed, though the remarks of Theodore and Quinn are particularly appreciated by the other attendees.
The funeral concludes, and Kendra says her farewells to most of the guests.
"Please come back to my home, if you will. We will have a drink - I will, anyway, and those who will join me - and we will read my father's last will and testament. The instructions had a stipulation that you must all be present for the reading."
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount leaves to attend to other matters, but appears at the house an hour later. It is clear that he is somewhat uncomfortable with outsiders being involved in local affairs, but also that he is professional in his duties.
Kendra pours a small glass of brandy, and offers the same to each of you.
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.
"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: Ismene Albus, Marill, Quinn Harwood, Theophania Carter, and Theodore Samuel Walden Carter: 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 also bequeath to each of you a single Harrow card, in the drawer of my desk enclosed in envelopes with your names.
I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4711 AR."
Once the will is read, Councilman Vashian looks to Kendra, who thanks him and dismisses him.
She turns to you all. "I will need at least a few weeks to decide if I shall sell the house or remain here in Ravengro. In the meantime, will you remain in Ravengro as my father asked of you?
There are rooms in the house for you all, and I can provide food and drink as well."
"Yes, I will remain here and help you in any way that I can. Well, any way consistent with the teachings of Desna, of course"
Ismene's magnified eyes widen at the mention of dangerous tomes, the stewardship of such was certainly an intriguing opportunity. And the professor hadn't specified anything about them reviewing the contents, though she supposed that would need to wait until Kendra's path was decided and they had gone their separate ways in order to spare her any potential backlash.
The time-frame involved was a bit concerning, she thought, unconsciously fidgeting with her gloves by pulling them partway off and then tugging them back on snugly. But she quickly nodded her assent to Kendra's question. "Of course, I'll be happy to help you organize paperwork and pack up personal effects as well. There's always a glut of busywork at times like these. Did the professor happen to have a laboratory here in the house?" She asked, hoping she did not look as twitchy as she felt contemplating the possibility of spending an extended period of time without one...
"Yes, there is a small laboratory. It may not be as well stocked as what you are used to, and some surfaces may be buried under books. But it is something. There is much more in the way of books. Speaking of which, let us get to those tomes."
Kendra leaves for a moment, then returns carrying a small oak chest with iron bands. She sets it down on the floor. Seeming a bit nervous and tentatively holds out the key. "Would one of you do the honors? I believe we should at least make sure they are in there."
"Oh. And there are these. The Harrow cards."
She hands out the envelopes with each of your names.
The rules for the Harrow Cards are in the Players' Guide; I will add them to Campaign Info. They are one-use items, although there are opportunities to gain other Harrow Cards at specific points, and you will gain an additional one each book. They are a free action to use.
Tiff smiles warmly at Kendra, ”Of course! Whatever help you may need. And take all the time you need to make such important decisions.”
Tiff marvels at the card and comments, ”I always liked ursuses. Ursids?” She nods, ”Ursus.”
Without hesitation she took the key and opened the chest, the curiosity on her face plain to see for everyone.
Quinn appears pensive when Kendra asks the group if they'll all stay on as requested. He opens his briefcase and pores over several papers for a few minutes with his brow furrowed. He accepts the harrow card idly while he reads, putting it down on top of the briefcase for the moment. Soon, he purses his lips as he weighs his options, and a lingering look at Kendra in front of a portrait of her father shifts his calculus. He neatly stacks the papers back up and returns them to his briefcase, then stands with an air of finality. "Miss Lorrimor, I would be happy to remain in this fine company for the next several weeks, but I do have accounts in Caliphas which will require my attention. If you could point me toward the most reliable local courier, I'll make the arrangements. And of course, if there is anything I can do to assist with the Professor's affairs, I gladly will."
He perks up for the chest opening and opens up his own envelope, checking the card inside and letting out an audible chuckle. "Perhaps in my youth," he mutters.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Theodore shakes hands with those in attendance, as each departs for his, or hers daily routines. The Cleric stands silently over the grave site for about another 15 minutes before joining the others at Kendra's.
At the reading of the Professor's will, the Pharasman only sits still listening and cataloging the Professor's wishes. At the specific requests, Theodore only nods his affirmation of each, while he absently puts the Harrow Card into his jacket pocket.
More of a dice fellow, myself.
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 appears to be a journal.
Underneath it are several additional books, with notes detailing their destinations.
Three books are to be delivered to Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. These books are On Verified Madness (a treatise on aberrations and other entities connected to the Dark Tapestry), Serving Your Hunger (an unholy text of Urgathoa), and The Umbral Leaves (the unholy text of Zon-Kuthon).
The fourth has a note indicating that it should be discreetly delivered to a specified location, the home of Judge Embreth Daramid. Its 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.
Kendra shakes her head. "I don't know anything about that book, and I don't think I have a key for it."
Assuming you follow the directions to "Read me now!"...
17 Gozran, 4701 AR
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.
19 Kuthona, 4710 AR
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
18 Abadus, 4711 AR
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.
29 Abadus, 4711 AR
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.
31 Abadus, 4711 AR
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.
1 Calistril, 4711 AR
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.
Ismene adjusts her lenses as she skims the entries over Tiff's shoulder.
"So it seems the angry mob was not completely off base to be concerned over necromancers. This information suggests a shift in priorities. Perhaps we should investigate Harrowstone ourselves? Or should we encourage Kendra to relocate before we set down that path? I would hate to repay the professor's kindness by putting his daughter at risk..." She states, thinking out loud to the group.
Theodore is seen peering over his sister's other shoulder opposite the Alchemist.
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers....
The Exorcist turns to his sister.
Does sound quite ominous.
Theodore peers back at the journal.
The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro.
He turns again to look at his sister.
Do you believe in Fate? Or manipulation?
Theodore peers back at the journal.
...Harrowstone...
He whispers
I would bring an Exorcist.
Theodore peers back at the journal.
The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
He only smiles.
Theodore peers back at the journal.
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
He loudly clears his throat. It sounded false.
Theodore peers back at the journal.
....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.
Theodore frowns at that particular passage.
"Well, it looks like we will have to take on the Professors mission. I owe him that, at least. Are all of you with me on this? We first go to the Pharasman cache and get the supplies and then go Harrowstone and hope that we aren't already too late."
As the group crowds around her Tiff feels a sense of warmth and family that she hadn't realized she missed so much. A smile creeps across her face as she reads the words giving the group a new sense of shared purpose.
She exclaims while putting her hand on her brother's shoulder, "Yes! First lets loot that cache, surely Pharasma won't mind if its for a good cause."
She turned to Kendra, "You don't mind do you? We can do some chores first if you need!"
Ismene listens to Theodore's musings and considers the subject matter again herself. "Whispering way... whispering... why is that ringing a bell?" She mutters to herself, chewing her bottom lip in concentration.
She felt a sudden surge of paranoia over the circled portions. "Kendra, can you confirm that this is this is your father's journal, and his penmanship? What can you tell us about the professor's actions over the past few months? Does it seem consistent with this account?"
She blinks in alarm at Tiff's question to Kendra. "Well, we certainly can't leave her here alone. We can't ensure her safety if we leave her behind! Those ruffians could come here to start trouble again. Especially if we're seen disturbing a crypt in these Restlands they seem so concerned about."
Theodore nods in affirmation to Ismene's follow-up questions. The Cleric of Pharasma then begins sipping his coffee.
Perhaps, we could actually just speak with the Pharasman clergy about our particular possible participation in this plan? I heard Pharasmans can be quite accommodating.
Theodore then elbows his sister.
Perhaps, you could formulate a spell of Warding?
"I may be able to assist you with your investigations," Kendra offers. "While I have not my father's skill with magic, I have some ability. As well, you can use our library to aid your research. If the sources you need are not here, I might be able to help you gain access to records at the Town Hall or the Temple of Pharasma."
She looks quite uncomfortable at the discussion of taking the Pharasman supplies, and is distraught at what her father proposed to do in his journal.
"Simply taking the supplies would be theft, of course. I regret that my father did not approach Father Grimburrow for permission or even assistance. He is a powerful priest of Pharasma, with considerable magic of his own, and you would do well not to cross him. Stealing from a Pharasman cache in a graveyard is... well, she is the goddess of Fate as well as Death, and the guardian of cemeteries, is she not? And Father died in an accident after planning or performing this theft. I think Theodore has the right idea to ask permission."
"Yes Ismene, this is my father's journal, and his penmanship. Over the past few weeks he seemed... energized. Alive. I think he relished having a problem to solve. But he was no longer young, and I think he must have forgotten the limitations of age. I was happy to see him alive, and I reasoned that he would bring me in to whatever he was working on when it was appropriate - it was never productive to badger him. But if I had, I could have been there to save him..."
There are three ways to obtain information:
You have hit the maximum DCs on the topics of the Whispering Way and Harrowstone Prison. There is one other topic that would be either Local or History. I will give you some time to review this and ponder what your line of inquiry might be, and make the relevant checks.
Theodore begins expounding up on his extensive information concerning the Whispering Way ...
The Cleric of Pharasma then begins pouring himself another cup of coffee prior to taking Kendra up on her offer of pouring over the Professor's ledgers, notes, journals, books....
After exhausting the pertinent papers here, the Cleric of Pharasma departs for a visit to the Temple of Pharasma to further indulge his inquiry.
The words heard from him are
29 Abadus, 4711 AR 20 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.
"I'm with you, Marill. Let's see this through." He offers his hand to the other man.
Quinn seems mildly uncomfortable when the topic of crossing Pharasma comes up. "I would rather not risk any of the Lady of Grave's further ire. Best to ask permission."
He looks around at the group, and feels a bit of the itch that he suspects the Professor felt at the prospect of adventure, grim as it is. [b]"I suppose I ought to gather my things from the inn, it seems I may have need of them. Before we head to Harrowstone, I think.
"That sounds like a very sensible plan, Kendra." She took her hand and gave it a comforting pat. "It's clear to me that while the professor felt inclined to risk himself in this endeavor, your safety was of far too much value to him to gamble. I am inclined to agree." Ismene said with what warmth she could muster.
To Theodore's revelation, she replies "I had wondered if there was a connection to the Whispering Tyrant. Though if it predates him, I suppose his moniker derives from the Way, as opposed to the reciprocal."
"I wrote my master's thesis on the Immolation of Harrowstone. My studies indicated that Warden Hawkran committed himself and his guards to a great sacrifice to prevent the uprising and escape of several very dangerous inmates."
She goes on to describe the events as she understood them.
"Let's have a look at the resources available to us here first. Perhaps it will be easy to spot what the professor himself had been looking into..."
"So, I think we're all agreed? We have to act, and quickly. And the first thing to do is to talk to Father Grimburrow. Both let him know what is going on and hopefully get his permission to use some of the items in the crypt. Whether or not he gives us access to the supplies, we head off to Harrowstone. Any research will have to wait until we at least visit Harrowstone for the first time."
Ismene's information provides most of the answers to Theodore's question. Who died in the fire?
Thinking more about these names, Theodore is able to recall a bit more.
It is a DC 25 check to know information about each of the five criminals, so 5 DC 25 checks in total (this is where you will likely need to spend a day doing research and Aid Anothers).
Prompted by Theodore's recollection, Ismene sets her mind to the topic of the prisoners. And she does know about Father Charlatan. Of the five notorious prisoners, only Father Charlatan was not technically a murderer, yet his crimes were so blasphemous that several churches demanded he be punished to the full extent of Ustalavic law. Although he claimed to be an ordained priest of any number of faiths, Father Corvin was in fact a traveling con artist who used faith as a mask and a means to bilk the faithful out of money in payment for false miracles or cures. He became known as Father Charlatan after his scheme was exposed and his Sczarni accomplices murdered a half-dozen city guards in an attempt to make good the group’s escape.
Only 5 years before his hometown of Mosswater was destined to be overrun and ruined by monsters from the nearby river, Ispin Onyxcudgel was a well-liked artisan and a doting husband. When he discovered his wife’s infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage and struck her dead with his hammer, shattering her skull and his sanity with one murderous blow. Wracked with shame and guilt, Ispin became convinced that if he could rebuild his wife’s skull she would come back to life—but unfortunately, he could not find the last blade-shaped fragment from the murder site. So instead, Ispin became the Mosswater Marauder. Over the course of several weeks, the cunning dwarf stalked and murdered nearly 20 people while searching for just the right skull fragment. He was captured just before murdering the daughter of a visiting nobleman from Varno, and was carted off to Harrowstone that same night.
When the Lopper stalked prey, he would hide in the most unlikely of places, sometimes for days upon end with only a few supplies to keep him going while he waited for the exact right moment to strike. Once his target was alone, the Lopper would emerge to savagely behead his victim with a handaxe.
Kendra looks pale.
"The Splatter Man... a horrific tale, and one that my father knew. For it concerns a fellow academic. Professor Feramin was a celebrated scholar of Anthroponomastics - that is, the study of personal names and their origins - at the Quartrefaux Archives in Caliphas. Yet an accidental association with a succubus twisted and warped his study, turning it into an obsession. Feramin became obsessed with the power of a name and how he could use it to terrify and control. Soon enough, his reputation was ruined, he’d lost his tenure, and he’d developed an uncontrollable obsession with an imaginary link between a person’s name and what happens to that name when the person dies. Every few days, he would secretly arrange for his victim to find a letter from her name written in blood, perhaps smeared on a wall or spelled out with carefully arranged entrails. Once he had spelled his victim’s name, he would at last come for her, killing her in a gory mess using a complex trap or series of rigged events meant to look like an accident."
Theodore snaps his fingers!
Yes! Kendra, that one! That's the one your Father was attempting to find, I wager. The Cult too. He fits this puzzle.
The Pharasman sips his coffee.
Some very bright minds collected by your father, yes.
Theodore begins to tidy up the many ledgers, books, journals, scrolls, and the "Flush or else" sign back in its place.
Tomorrow morning perhaps we visit the Temple of Pharasma. And, time permitting, the library.
Quinn listens to Kendra with attentive disgust. "I have read that name before, but never had the context. Fascinating. Well, I don't know how much I will be in this conclave, but I can go get my things. I will be back shortly."
Quinn goes to fetch his baggage from the inn where he'd rented a room. When he comes back about an hour later, he's wearing gleaming scalemail. It doesn't fit him quite properly - it's a little too short in places, and has been let out a little too much in others - and it's a little bit our of fashion, but it's very well maintained and he wears it naturally. He has a longsword hanging from his belt and a shield strapped to his back as well. The shield has two rivet holes and a slightly cleaner sheen in the center where a charge used to live, but it's just a ghost of history now.
"There, I feel a bit better suited to protecting you now. Hopefully it will not come to a fight, but I would rather be ready for one if it does."
So it sounds like the plan is to approach the Temple of Pharasma, seek permission to access the cache, then head to the Restlands to look for it, and then go to Harrowstone.
It is evening now, so it would be well into the night by the time you got to Harrowstone. Do you wish to go now, or wait for morning as Theodore suggests?
"I will go with you to the Temple, as I am known in town and may be of some help," says Kendra. She does not volunteer to go poking around the cemetery, nor does she offer to go to Harrowstone.
Tiff points to the ceiling suddenly, ”Well we can leave her alone! I was looking through Petros’s spellbook and there was an abjuration that I’m confident I can cast. It will warn me if anyone approaches within 20ft of you Kendra. So long as we’re not too far away we can rush back to save you, if needed. While we’re on the subject I was wondering if we could share some spells? I’ll need to stock up on brogota-fin first though, maybe you know of someone?”
She looks at her brother pleadingly but relents, ”Alright we can ask!”
When Sammy relates the information about the Way she exclaims, ”That’s a terrible way to share information! What if you’re misheard? “Pinch of dried toadstool” could become, “Cinch a toed ghoul!”
She suggests, ”Why don’t we rest for the evening and then get a start early next morning?”
Theodore sighs at his sister. Turning to Kendra, the Cleric smiles
Where's the blankets, my dear. Looks like it's a sleep over.
"Do you mean to ward my front door, Theophania?
I believe that could work. I wasn't expecting any visitors this morning anyway."
----
The Lorrimor house is spacious and comfortable, with rooms for all of you. The night passes with no trouble.
Well, no trouble that you are aware of, anyway.
In the morning, Tiff casts her Alarm spell and the group heads out. It is about half a mile to the Temple of Pharasma.
However, before you get there, you notice something. Crossing the bridge across the Vistear River, you see the memorial.
Other than the looming ruins of Harrowstone, Ravengro’s most distinctive landmark is a 25-foot-tall, moss-covered stone statue that overlooks the river. The statue depicts a proud, muscular human man dressed in leathers and wielding a truncheon—a depiction of Warden Hawkran. A total of 25 names—the guards who died in the fire of 4661, as well as the warden’s wife, Vesorianna—are chiseled into the statue’s stone base.
From the bridge, you can see red splotches at the base of the statue. They weren't there yesterday.