((you may dot in, but please dont post until I officially start things. I will do that once I have everyones combat summaries, everyone tells me their character is ready, and do the initial rundown))
Date: 27th of Kuth. Time: 6PM Wealday. A day of work,
Ravengro is a flourishing farming community in the lowlands of western Ustilav and even though the small town was in the clutches of early winter, there was only light snow collecting in some of the areas that rarely saw sun. A cold wind blew through the towns buildings and made anyone venturing outside with the sun low on the horizon and the shadows of dusk lengthening, bundle themselves up tighter.
The majority of the towns business' encircled the town square, where a Gazebo sat. In nicer weather travelling entertainers might be singing and playing music or performing circus-like acts. Occasionally the politically inclined might share news from other places or even within the community.
One of the 4 posts where printed news leafs were tacked up was near by. If anyone needed help that also could be found there. Currently the only announcement was an announcement that Professor Petros' Funeral was tomorrow at 3pm at the Restlands. After his will would be read at his home, where Kendra, his daughter, currently dwelled.
The community of Ravengro was a collection of 30 buildings split by a fast flowing stream with two bridges across. The entire north west side was manor houses owned by retirees and wealthy or farmers. Ravengro proper was on the south east side where the business' dominated the northern section and a few more manors and farms the southern to the South on the banks of the small river was the towering monument of a statue of a man covered in ivy.
Only 2 roads entered town from the outside. The northern approach came down from the ferry house on the south shore of Lake Lias. A huge lake with several small fishing villages along its banks and the River Vistear heading out the eastern end. It was down this road that Jack Ryder came. He glanced at the graveyard to his right as he passed it. Many family crypts were present as well as an abundance of headstones. The cold wind was biting. No birds were out in the dusky bitter wind. He saw a squirrel scamper from the ground up an oak nearby, his mouth bulging from seeds.
Soon he'd be in the warmth of an Inn. Just a short distance.
The south approach came up through the farmlands of Canterwall with the mountains of Virilych in the distance. The single road passed the ruins of the prison Harrowstone to the west of the road a 20 minute walk from the town. It's was here that Lady Briar Rose, Cassandra Blackpoole and the slight framed Quincey Harker found themselves walking together towards Ravengro.
They had met on the road north 2 days ago at an inn. Realizing they were all headed to the same place for the same reason, they had joined together and shared tales of Professor Lorrimer. Tonight though, the bitter cold kept much talk down. They eyed the walls surrounding the ruins of the prison with waryness. The dusk made it look foreboding and sinister. In the distance an owl hooted as he took to the air.
In town, Helmund the huge northern Barbarian sat at a chair at The Laughing Demon, the only Tavern in town, looking at the 4 brown large meatballs in a reddish gravy on his plate, with a glass of pale ale and some bread to soak up the gravy.
Zokar, the jovial owner laughed as he heard the whispered conversation of some locals say
wonder how he'll like the Werewolf balls just loud enough so their conversation reached Helmuds ears. There was snickering after.
Helmud had arrived merely an hour ago and traveled straight away to the Tavern for some food and warmth before seeking out an Inn. Though some said there was only 1 such establishment in town. But first food.
Barek sat at a table in the downstairs common room near the fireplace nursing a beer. He had already obtained a room at the Outward Inn, the only such establishment. He'd been here since mid afternoon. He'd found everyone pretty closed mouthed. The majority of the townsfolk were of Varisian descent and He'd found out they weren't very friendly. So he sat alone sipping a beer after securing one of 10 rooms the Inn had. A visiting Scholar had one and a group of merchants 3 others leaving 5 .
Such was the nights beginning in Ravengro on the 27th of Kuth, the month dedicated to the Midnight Lord Zon-Kuthon.
((You may start posting))
With a slight grin, "Better you than me, squirrel. I need to find somewhere warmer than that tree," he mutters, his breath clearly seen upon the cold air.
Turning his attention back to the town ahead, he adjusts the hood of his cloak to help better protect against the wind and continues on.
As he walks, he surveys the town before finally catching sight of the Inn. Making his way toward it, he walks in and looks around. He notices a small man sitting at a table all by himself, tending to a drink. Wow. That guy looks like he could stand to eat a meal or two. Possibly four. And all at the same time. I hope he's not dead. He looks a little dead. Nope! Wait! I think he blinked. Well, that's good. Maybe he just likes to starve himself a lot. Like, a WAY lot. Anyway, don't need that to be the first thing I see when I walk into town. A dead guy sitting at a table that is. That would just be bad for business. He can't help but give a slight grin at his thoughts.
Walking up to the counter to the bored-looking proprietor, "Afternoon," he greets, nodding. "Don't suppose you got a room available, do you? Because I sure could use one," he says, smiling, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them.
That’s ominous, Quincey says grimly as the owl flies off. He feels a chill as they pass the ruin. Was that the foreboding structure in the darkness, or just the chill in the evening air? He pulled his blanket closer around him. A warm meal would be in store once they reached Ravengro.
I think that we ought keep moving. Either of you know how much further it is? Cassandra and Lady Briar Rose had been pleasantly welcoming for humans, and he enjoyed their company the past two days. He was even surprised to learn that Lady Briar Rose also spoke Necril.
Barek sits with his back to the fire, sipping every so often from the beer in his hand. He watches as the orange light plays along his ungloved hand, and catches on just a hint of the scar tissue peeking out from his sleeve. Growing uncomfortable, he tugs his sleeve a little higher and begins actively observing the Tavern.
That man is just as large as my kin. Trapper maybe? Doesn't seem to be local the way he's chatting up up the owner. Wonder how many more will show up, old man Lorrimer seemed to know many interesting people.
Helmund let the murmurs and snickers wash over him like a cool autumn breeze. He slowly speared one of the massive meatballs with his dagger, lifted it, and examined it with careful scrutiny. 'Werewolf Balls, huh?' he thought to himself before taking a huge bite and chewing thoughtfully. He washed it down with a deep swig of ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned his icy-blue gaze toward the whispering locals.
A slow grin spread across his marked face. 'If these are werewolf balls,' he rumbled, his voice deep as distant thunder, 'then I expected them to be bigger.'
He stabbed another meatball and gestured toward Zokar. 'Perhaps next time you should bring me the rest of the beast. I like to know if my meal had a spine before it ended up on my plate.'
Helmund smirked, savouring the meal and the small sense of victory he felt from not letting the locals rouse his temper.
Haunted Ustalav already felt so far from the sun. The cold weather was not helping, but lady Applestar always carried a mote of light with her, practically overflowing with life. The last time she was in Ustalav was to escort an evil artifact potentially related to the Whispering Tyrant to the Grand Cathedral of Pharasma in Korvosa to be properly disposed of. Her business here today is not much happier. She's unsure why professor Lorrimer had sent for her. She had saved his life from ghouls, but she did not consider that she might be important enough to be summoned to his funeral. The church gave her time off to attend anyways. Stranger was the group of people she had met going to the same event. The gods work in mysterious ways and traveling alone is less fun.
"I hear they consider owls good luck in Tian Xia. Ural owls." Briar Rose responds to the somewhat gaunt Quincey. "Uhm, I think we're close. I've been through here once before, but I wasn't alone." She rubs her gloved hands together to warm them a bit and pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Did professor Lorrimer have a manor? Starting to get worried there won't be any rooms left at the inn by the time we get there. Hah! Nobody's gonna want to stay out in the cold tonight."
Cassandra shivers with a slight chill as the group catches sight of Harrowstone, whether the cold wind or the prison itself caused it will remain a mystery. She blinks her mis-matched eyes as the owl takes flight "I did not know that" she says to Briar Rose "Good hunting, Mr. Owl. Maybe you'll catch a meal before we do."
As she enters the town she pulls her hood up and runs her fingers through her raven hair "I don't know where the Professor lived, I've never been here before. I've actually never been anywhere much outside of Redleaf." she says somewhat mournfully. "Perhaps we should find an inn and a hot meal for the night before we go searching for his residence"
Date: 27th Kuth Time 630PM Wealday.
Place: Laughing Demon Tavern
Zokar laughed at Helmud's gentle jab at the gathered farmers, His rather rotund body shaking with glee. His thick moustache was shaking like a tree in a strong wind. Very good. very good his thick accent betrayed his Varisian heritage, as many of the residents should be. Shortly the meal was finished and the large man prepared to go looking for a room. Hed seen the sign 'The Outward Inn' in the town square right next to the General Store.
Place: The Outward Inn.
Jack inquired after a room and the Beautiful aging Varisian woman behind the counter smiled, though her eyes remained reserved, and said pleasantly enough. It is my lucky week. Yes sir, I have a few rooms available. 6 Silver. Unless you wish hot baths and breakfast and dinner, then itll be 2 Gold. How many nights will you be staying kind sir.
At the Chair near the Fire, Barek sat watching and heard the same thing hed heard when he asked. Of course hed paid the 2 Gold The hot bath was worth it.
Just then the door opened and three travellers, an armored woman, a slight framed pale young man, and a wild haired woman with oddly colored eyes. They were quick to shut the door behind them to keep the old air from taking over the Inn. A couple merchants and a courtly looking man in a black vest and pants with a white ruffled shirt were the only other folks in the Inn.
Jack inquired after a room and the Beautiful aging Varisian woman behind the counter smiled, though her eyes remained reserved, and said pleasantly enough. It is my lucky week. Yes sir, I have a few rooms available. 6 Silver. Unless you wish hot baths and breakfast and dinner, then it'll be 2 Gold. How many nights will you be staying, kind sir.
With a wry smile, "Looks like it's my lucky week too." Reaching into his pouch, he pulls out 3 gold coins and sets them on the counter. "How long? Probably not long enough, the way I see it," he winks. "And I'll take the hot bath. I mean, who could pass that up this time of the year, hm?" Pushing the coins forward, he leans in a little and whispers, "And just keep the extra for yourself, m-kay? Don't spend it all in one place, gorgeous," before giving her another wink and leaning back out.
His attention is then drawn to the crew of folks who just walked in. Narrowing his eyes, Wow. All kinds of odd folks walking in here. What, is there a party in town I'm not aware of? No way these people are here for the Professor.
Turning his focus to the lone fellow at the table, he walks over to him and asks, "Excuse me, bud, mind if I join you? Looks like you could use some company. Hey, you hungry or something, pal? I could get you some food if you're wanting." Poor guy. He really should eat something. This fellow is gonna waste away if he doesn't.
After speaking with the lady at the Outward Inn, Quincey hands off two gold pieces and makes his way to find a spot for himself and his companions.
It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper bath. It would probably do me some good, especially a little tiding up for the Professor. Least I can do.. He wasn’t sure the bath would help his chill however. His chill came not from the air outside, but deep from his own bones. He’d had periods like this all throughout his life, like a depression of the body instead of the mind, like darkness itself was being sucked into his marrow.
He shivered as he sat. It wouldn’t last long, he hoped.
Barek watches as Jack approaches his table, and when asked, kicks out a chair for him. "I don't mind sharing a space. I am in one of the premier spots in the common room next to the..." he pauses for perhaps half a heartbeat too long, "warmth."
"I won't say no to an offer of food, though I have had a meal already." Barek leans forward, offering his hand, "Please, call me Barek."
Shaking the man's hand before taking a seat, "So, Barek, you don't look like you're from around here. Unless, of course, you are," he says, grinning. "But if not, what brings you to this small town? And the name's Ryder. Jack Ryder."
Quincey overhears Barek, and he moves over towards him and Jack. Do you have room for a few more chilled souls? My companions and I just got into town.. Always good to meet some new faces. Name’s Quincey Harker. Quincey holds out his hand in a handshake. His voice is gravely but pleasant. and he has a slight smirk on his face.
What brings you to Ravengro? Have you been here long?
Quincey overhears Barek, and he moves over towards him and Jack. Do you have room for a few more chilled souls? My companions and I just got into town.. Always good to meet some new faces. Name’s Quincey Harker. Quincey holds out his hand in a handshake. His voice is gravely but pleasant, and he has a slight smirk on his face.
What brings you to Ravengro? Have you been here long?
Looking to Barek with a questioning look before looking back to the pale traveler, Jack shrugs. "I mean, sure, I guess. Why not?" Jack shakes the man's hand before moving his chair over to make room for the odd trio. "And to answer your latter question first, I just got here. Just a few moments before you three walked in. And I was just asking Barek here that very same thing. Your first question, that is. I'm actually here for a funeral. This guy I... um... knew? I guess? Kind of hard to explain. Anyway, I got a notice that he had passed away, and so I've come to, um...," he furrows his brow in thought before, "pay my respects, I guess?" He shrugs.
"What about you and your friends?"
Helmund steps into the Outward Inn, the door creaking shut behind him. The warmth of the hearth washes over him, but he pays it little mind—he is too busy casting his gaze across the room, taking in its occupants with quiet scrutiny.
Near the fire, he notices the three men having a conversation. The tall man in leather armor has the bearing of a hunter, maybe a tracker. The robed one… harder to place. 'Magic? Secrets?' He keeps his thoughts to himself. The third, a pale young man with an air of quiet detachment. 'Scholar, maybe?'
Nearby, he notices the woman in armor — no stranger to battle, judging by her posture. 'A fighter, then. Perhaps one worth knowing.' And then there’s the wild-haired woman with strangely colored eyes. Unusual... not necessarily a threat, but unnatural enough to put him on edge. He files it away.
He strides to the bar, setting down a few coins. “Ale. Room for the night.” His voice is low and rough-edged, worn by years of hard living.
Taking his drink, he moves to a table near the wall, where he can keep the whole room in view. He doesn’t speak first, instead listening to see if there is any mention of the Professor or the circumstances of his demise.
Barek nods at Quincey and companions request to share the space, and briefly rises to shake his hand. "I am always open to more company." Letting Jack's question slide by about his origins, he instead answers to Jack and Quincey's question, "A funeral? I am also here for it, unless there's more than one going on. Professor Lorimor was a great help in allowing me to follow my dreams. I still owe the man a rather large favor, though I'm thinking that is going to be granted posthumously..."
He sips his beer, pensive, and a bit down bringing up a debt he fears he won't be able to repay. "Is Lorimore the man you knew, Jack?"
Cassandra looks around the common room of the Outward Inn as she approaches the desk "One room, please, and a hot bath would be wonderful"she smiles at the thought of soaking in a tub of hot water to take the chill out of her bones.
As she walks over to join Quincey, as he talks to the strangers by the hearth, she removes her gloves, revealing claw-like nails, as she warms her hands by the fire. Once satisfactorily thawed out she hides her hands in the folds of her cloak, as if somewhat embarrassed.
She overhears part of the conversation of the three men before she interjects "You knew the Professor as well?" she frowns a little "he was a good man, taken too soon."
The varisian woman took Quincey's, Helmuds, Cassandra's, and Lady Briars money and calling out a young man from the bath to start preparing hot baths in their rooms. He tells them it will take some time to get the water in the tubs upstairs and enough hot rocks to keep the water hot for a good soak. A waitress, a young woman in her late teens, bearing a resemblance to the innkeep, comes to take orders for everyone.
Barek nods at Quincey and companions request to share the space, and briefly rises to shake his hand. "I am always open to more company." Letting Jack's question slide by about his origins, he instead answers to Jack and Quincey's question, "A funeral? I am also here for it, unless there's more than one going on. Professor Lorimor was a great help in allowing me to follow my dreams. I still owe the man a rather large favor, though I'm thinking that is going to be granted posthumously..."
He sips his beer, pensive, and a bit down bringing up a debt he fears he won't be able to repay. "Is Lorimore the man you knew, Jack?"
Taken slightly aback, "Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, he was the guy I knew. But I barely knew him. I mean, he pretty much saved my life but it was only a chance meeting. One of those, 'right-place right-time' type deals, know what I mean? Anyway, he asked for a future favor, took his leave, and I never heard from him again." He shrugs. "Until now, of course."
She overhears part of the conversation of the three men before she interjects "You knew the Professor as well?" she frowns a little "he was a good man, taken too soon."
Turning his attention to the newcomer, "Ummmm...," he looks around at the others, wondering which one of them she's speaking to before responding with, "No. I didn't," answering honestly. "But from the couple of minutes I did speak with him, he seemed like a real nice guy."
Helmund had been quiet since arriving, keeping to himself as he handled the details of his stay. The talk of hot baths held little interest for him—he had endured far worse than road dust in his time—but the conversation by the hearth caught his ear.
He stepped toward the fire, the flickering light casting shadows across the Kellid markings on his face. He didn’t speak at first, just listened. The strangers spoke of Lorrimor—of debts owed, of chance encounters.
The tall man wearing leather armor said something in particular that made him pause.
"One of those, 'right-place right-time' type deals, know what I mean?"
Helmund let out a low grunt—half acknowledgment, half something else. He stopped near the edge of the group, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Aye,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “That was the professor.” He studied the man with cold gray eyes. “Always had a knack for being where he was needed. Not sure if it was fate or just luck.”
He shifted his gaze toward the others gathered at the hearth. “Sounds like he had a habit of pulling people from the fire.” He let the words hang for a moment before adding, “How did the rest of you come to know him?”
Barek plays with the glove on his left hand, doing what he can to suppress a shudder at the large and broad man with the Kellid tattoos's words.
"It is as you say, he saved me one fateful day when my friend and I did something particularly stupid. I might have still been here today without him, but I would almost have certainly been an incredibly different man than I am now. Hála az isteneknek, hogy kihúzott a tűzből."
Looking back up at the newcomer he begins again, "I am Barek, what is your name?"
Recognizing the tongue of his father's people, Helmund shifts uncomfortably; clearly embarrassed that he isn't fluent enough to understand.
"He was a good man. Helping others was just in his nature; a rare trait to be found, especially around here. I am called Helmund, it is good to meet you Barek. I assume you all are here for the funeral?" he says, pausing to allow for the rest of the group to introduce themselves.
Quincey kindly orders from the young woman, his meat rare and his drink strong. Then, he shares his thoughts with the group.
Strange that we are all here for Professor Lorimore. Or perhaps not, given the location of the inn. But moreso that he would invite all of us here instead of those closer to him. I, for one, happened to save his life from a vampire in Taldor, but I would hardly say we were close. I’ll admit, I once thought I was inheriting a fortune, but now I feel it may be something more.
A waitress, a young woman in her late teens, bearing a resemblance to the innkeep, comes to take orders for everyone.
Raising two fingers to catch her attention, "Just a drink, please."
Helmund let out a low grunt—half acknowledgment, half something else. He stopped near the edge of the group, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Aye,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “That was the professor.” He studied the man with cold gray eyes. “Always had a knack for being where he was needed. Not sure if it was fate or just luck.”
Wow. That guy's voice is grizzly bear-like. Makes my normal man-voice seem wimpy. I mean, it's somewhat deep. I mean, it's not high by any stretch. It's just normal average deep. Or maybe just normal average. Whatever the hell that means. Heck, I should've just had a deep voice like that guy. He thinks on that a moment before, Nah. Then it'd just be weird.
"Strange that we are all here for Professor Lorimore. Or perhaps not, given the location of the inn. But moreso that he would invite all of us here instead of those closer to him. I, for one, happened to save his life from a vampire in Taldor, but I would hardly say we were close. I’ll admit, I once thought I was inheriting a fortune, but now I feel it may be something more."
"You know, Q, I think you may be on to something. The thousand gold question is: What could this 'something more' be?" He shrugs. "Because let's just be honest, this is flat-out odd. Why would you call upon a bunch of unknown strangers for this? It just doesn't make sense."
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"Why would you call upon a bunch of unknown strangers for this? It just doesn't make sense."
His voice, it's just the right level of deep to be considered normal average deep. Or perhaps just normal average? Hard to say...
"Perhaps the old man didn't have many he called friend. Could just be that he was trying to pad out his funeral procession, nothing more." he shrugs, motioning toward the waitress. "I'll take an ale as well."
Date: 27th of Kuth 7:00 PM Wealday
Place: The Outward Inn.
Slowly the group gathered near the fireplace and bantered a bit. It wasnt long before the teen waiting on them, brought drinks back to their table.
The Varisian Innkeeper stood behind the counter watching her daughter with the eye of a trainer. When the girl finished she came back and her mother leaned in and discussed how shed done her job in a low voice.
Meanwhile the table with the merchants who at first been watching, turned their attention back to themselves and began discussing their trip out of town tomorrow.
The well dressed man sitting alone, nodded to himself, stood and wiping the vestige of his drink from his lips with a laced handkerchief. tucked it back into a vest pocket and turned and headed upstairs leaving the common room to the group and the merchants.
((ooc: Feel free to role play as much as you wish. Once Ive had 4 people say they are going to bed for the night, Ill advance it))
"Why would you call upon a bunch of unknown strangers for this? It just doesn't make sense."His voice, it's just the right level of deep to be considered normal average deep. Or perhaps just normal average? Hard to say...
"Perhaps the old man didn't have many he called friend. Could just be that he was trying to pad out his funeral procession, nothing more." he shrugs, motioning toward the waitress. "I'll take an ale as well."
With a slight chuckle, "Now THAT would be odd."
Clearing his throat and attempting his best impression of the Professor, Jack sits himself up straight and proper and begins. "Well, now, all I ask is for a small favor from each of you for a future endeavor. As you can see, I'm old. And I'll be dead soon. And when I die, all I'll mostly have are these guards and, well, I don't really like them. So, with that being said, I would love for you all to come to my funeral because there aren't enough others to attend. Which is kind of sad, if you think about it. As a matter of fact, I almost want to kill myself now." Jack, still playing the part and sporting a morose look before quickly reverting to a smile, says, "Anyway! Good day to you and I hope to see you at my funeral!" He chuckles 'old-man like' before resorting to a wide grin.
"Well? Was it pretty good? Marginally good? Absolutely sounding nothing like him?" He chuckles, taking a swig of his drink. "C'mon. Be honest. Or lie, depending on how bad it was." He grins wryly.
Quincey raises an eyebrow and gives a slight grin. Well enough. But you forgot the part where we can also give the eulogies for being the most interesting parts of his life. Then, Quincey raises his mug in approval of the joke, and then taking a swig.
Ah. At least we’ll have good ale for a night or two.
Smiling, "Ah. I knew I forgot something." Jack raises his mug in response and nods in thanks.
Jack finishes off his ale and rises before pushing his chair in. "Alright, you interesting rogue band of characters, I'm gonna call it a night. Been a long trip and I'm beat. I guess we'll do this again tomorrow. Should be interesting whatever it might be. Night," he nods, taking his leave.
Helmund smirks faintly and drains the last of his drink, setting the mug down with a quiet thunk.
"Don’t get too comfortable with the good ale," he says, giving Quincey a grin. "Might spoil us."
He stretches his shoulders, cracking his neck with a grunt. "Alright then. I’m turning in too. Been a long trip, and I’d rather not wake up with a back full of knots."
With a brief nod to the group, he adds, "See you all in the morning. Try not to drink too much without me."
Then he heads off, making his way up the stairs to his room
Briar Rose is usually more of a social butterfly, but she's awfully tired this night. Perhaps because the sun has been hidden behind the dreary grey winter clouds for so long. She is content to listen quietly, then head off for a bath and bed. The bath is lovely, though some of the warmth is sapped by it costing most of her last coins. Maybe I shouldn't have bought so much candy...
Barek remains quiet for most of the night, but does appreciate the company just the same. As the others begin slipping off, he gives a polite farewell and does just the same. This funeral will likely be more active than I anticipated. But we'll see where all the pieces fall tomorrow.
One by one the group made their way to their rooms after a long cold day on the road. Sleep was fitful. Dreams came and not welcome dreams. They all dreamt of their meeting with the Professor and how they had overcome the adversity of the day.
But lurking in their dreams was a presence. Something dark and malevolent, watching, looking for weakness, trying to find a way. Then dawn came and with dawn a new day. They were those who were called. They brought hope. But first...the funeral.
28th Kuth, 7:00 am Starday.
Place: The Outwards Inn.
According to the fliers and the letter, the funeral was at 10am in the Restlands. The Innkeeper was already at the front counter, talking with her daughter. A couple constables were sitting at one of the tables drinking a hot beverage, looked like coffee, but couldve been tea.
The thin thin man, from the night before, was sitting at one of the tables, also having a drink and eating a muffin. He was dressed in the same black and white finery, but had his jacket as well as his vest on.
a farmer and his two boys were bringing in some vegetables and accepting payment from the Innkeep for them. So started the day.
A rooster could be heard crowing not far away.
((once 4 have posted coming downstairs and how their day starts Ill will advance it to the funeral.))
Fitful dreams were nothing nee to Quincey, though the his bones seamed to ache more than usual. Perhaps, just the travel, he thought. He was not used to such constant travel. After dress, Quincey grabbed his meager possessions and headed downstairs.
He surveyed the seen, curious of the thin man from the night before. Perhaps just a regular, but noticeable nonetheless. Stopping by the counter, he asks for a coffee, black, and heads to a table where he can observe the thin man, but not head on. Then, he takes out a deck of cards and starts laying them out on the table. It was a mental focus technique that the professor had taught him, to help him with his “condition”. He’d done it every day since. It helped.
After a nice hot bath and a decent night's sleep, Jack rises, gathers his things, and makes his way to the main area. He takes note of the thin man who was here last night, and the farmer and his sons, but doesn't really give it another thought.
Making a pit stop at the front counter, "Coffee, please. Thanks." Jack nods in thanks before looking over and noticing Quincey and his cards. Sporting a curious look, he walks over to him and grabs a seat. "Mornin'. So, what's up with the cards? You a professional gambler or something?" he asks, grinning.
Helmund awoke with a grunt, rubbing the sleep from his face. He stared blankly at the faint light filtering through the warped windowpane as he tried to grasp the last memories of the strange dream. After letting his thoughts linger for a few moments, he rose and crossed the room to the basin. The water inside was cold, and he didn’t ease into it — he splashed a handful straight onto his face, sucking in a sharp breath as it shocked him fully awake. He caught his reflection in the small mirror above the basin and reached up, fingers brushing the faint Kellid markings that ran like weathered scars along his jaw and neck — ritual lines, once inked deep but faded now with time. He rubbed them slowly, thoughtfully, as if grounding himself in that moment. He shook his head dismissively as he dressed himself, throwing on his dark wolfskin coat last before heading down to the common room.
Downstairs, the warmth of the hearth was a welcome contrast to the cold air of his lodgings. Helmund stepped into the common room with a quiet nod to the innkeeper, eyes flicking over the scene: the constables, the farmer, the boys, the man in black and white finery. He noticed Quincy and Jack setting up some sort of card game, and after ordering himself some breakfast he moved to join them. "What’s the wager? Or are we just passing time 'til the funeral bell tolls?"
"Mornin'. So, what's up with the cards? You a professional gambler or something?" he asks, grinning.
Quincey glances up a Jack as he flips over one of the cards. Yes, and yes. He address Jack as Helmund comes up.
"What’s the wager? Or are we just passing time 'til the funeral bell tolls?"
Not looking up from his cards this time, Quincey continues the conversation while flipping and laying down cards. His speech is disjointed pauses as he goes. No wagers yet. This a… mental exercise that Professor Lorimore taught me. It helps me to… focus on… what’s present.. instead of… other… distractions. As he lays the last card down, he seems satisfied with himself. Then, looks up at the two and smiles. I’m happy to lighten your pockets of you’d like, but it’s probably more appropriate to hold until after the funeral.
How’d you sleep? he asks casually, but genuinely curious, trying to determine if his dreams were more chilling than usual.
Barek dreams of his old life, life in the tribes to the north, then something deeper, darker, cruelly laughing horns and raging fires. He wakes with a start and nearly tumbles out of bed. He peels his sweat-soaked nightclothes off and inspects the gnarled burn scars covering his body. Tenderly poking at them, he sighs at the lack of real sensation against his skin, then goes to quickly wash from the nearby basin.
Grabbing his gear, he heads down and sees Jack, Helmund, and Quincey talking around a deck of cards and sits next to them. "Morning gentlemen," he says softly. Hearing Quincey's question, he shakes his head, "Haven't had such rough dreams in a long time. Possibly just being back in the home country." His grin is rueful, though his eyes stay just a touch hollow.
He orders a light breakfast and coffee before pulling out his spellbook and studying it, swapping out some of his normal repertoire for spells that he knows will be potentially more useful.
Date: 28th Kuth 10:00 AM Wealday
Place: The Restlands
((go to roll20))
It wasnt too long when all of you were downstairs and about hour before 10 The well dressed man left the Inn.
near 930 Jack, Helmund and Barek all agreed it takes about 30 minutes to go to the Restlands. So your group left the Inn and headed north across the bridge and not surprising saw a few people ahead of you in the distance moving there as well. It was a cloudy day, with no rain, but the wind made it biting cold. Leaves swirled around you as you walked.
It was not long before you arrived. There were less than 10 people huddled at the entrance to the graveyard talking in low tones. Helmund recognized the Tavern Keeper who he shared a laugh with, Zokar. His son Petrov. A young reserved woman in a pink gown. a blonde wild eyes woman in simple brown and yellow clothing. A rather heavy set man with the look of a haughty noble. A very old gentleman who was consoling the woman in the pink gown who you gathered was Kendra because she was the center of attention. You werent surprised to see the fine dressed man from the Inn there either. There was a horse drawn wagon with the driver standing off to the side. he had a bow over his shoulder. He was apparently the only man to come armed.
A rather large ornate coffin sat in the back of the wagon.
((Ive placed you on the map, but you may change your positioning if you choose as long as you stay within 2 squares of Kendra.))
Not looking up from his cards this time, Quincey continues the conversation while flipping and laying down cards. His speech is disjointed pauses as he goes. No wagers yet. This a… mental exercise that Professor Lorimore taught me. It helps me to… focus on… what’s present.. instead of… other… distractions. As he lays the last card down, he seems satisfied with himself. Then, looks up at the two and smiles. I’m happy to lighten your pockets of you’d like, but it’s probably more appropriate to hold until after the funeral.
How’d you sleep? he asks casually, but genuinely curious, trying to determine if his dreams were more chilling than usual.
"A mental exercise, huh? Interesting. First time I've heard it called that, but, whatever works for you, friend."
"And I slept fine for the most part. Nothing like sleeping in your own home, of course, but, uh, yeah... I slept fine." He shrugs. "Why do you ask?"
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Pulling the hood of his cloak a little bit tighter in an effort to help fight off the bitter cold, "Brrrrrr. Man, that wind just cuts right through you, doesn't it?" He asks out loud, speaking to one in particular.
Helmund spots Zokar and offers him a nod to say hello. He scans the crowd, picking out Kendra and waiting for a break in the conversation around her before stepping forward.
"Kendra," he says as he approaches.
"I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man. Helped more people than most ever will. You have my condolences."
He pauses, as if debating whether or not to say more, then adds simply:
"If there’s anything you need ... just say the word."
With that, he steps back, not lingering. He finds a quiet spot near the edge of the gathering, folds his arms and keeps a respectful silence, eyes on the coffin.
Barek has to send his elbow up past his chest to tap it into Jack's ribs. "Tact, man. Let's get through the funeral and see what the professor and his daughter have in store."
Observing Helmund talking with Kendra, he raises one eyebrow. As the man finds his own space he muses, It sounds like he knows...knew Lorrimor better than a number of us here. I wonder what that story is...
This had been coming for days, yet somehow it had completely escaped Quincey’s mind that they would end up in a cemetery. In retrospect, it made obvious sense. And yet, it alarmed him. It was unreasonable. Surely, the professor had taken precautions, for himself and his burial place. This would be nothing more than a typical funeral. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Perhaps this excursion is the excuse I needed to get me into something new. he reasoned.
Barek has to send his elbow up past his chest to tap it into Jack's ribs. "Tact, man. Let's get through the funeral and see what the professor and his daughter have in store."
Sporting an incredulous look, "What?! It is cold, you know. That's all I'm sayin'." He shrugs.
Kendra, her eyes swollen from grief filled tears watched the ensemble of her fathers allies approach and she smiled wanly and remarked Im so very glad you came. When I was looking for his journal, which I am still reading, I came across a piece of paper with 20 names on it. I had sent out a calling, though I know not why he listed you. Perhaps we will find out when his will is read by Vashion there she indicated the heavy set man who nodded back.
Zokar solemnly nodded back at Helmund and moved to the back of the wagon telling his son to get up in the back and help guide the coffin off so those who chose to be a pall bearer could grip it. Vashion moved back with him, as did the man theyd seen at the Inn. The older gentleman said softly Alas though I wish I could be of service bearing you to your final resting place Petros old friend, I fear my ailing limbs will not bear the weight
Kendra looked imploringly at those of you gathered. Would 3 of you be so kind
Quickly moving to assist, "I got you covered, Miss Kendra." He takes one corner. "C'mon, Helmund. Not you, Barek, you might break. Like, literally. You really should eat more, friend." He winks, grinning wryly. "Unless you think you can handle it. It's either you or Q."
Lady Applestar opts to leave her bulky glaive and shield and armor at the inn. She does bring her scimitar. Although, some may say her armor would be more appropriate for a somber funeral than the more colorful (rainbow, actually) clothing she wears now.
"I am so sorry for your loss, miss Lorrimer. I am lady Applestar of Magnimar." Briar Rose takes both of Kendra's hands and gives them a squeeze, hoping to offer at least some kind of warmth to the woman. "And the clergy at the Cynosure Tower in Magnimar send their condolences as well. I did not know your father well, but I traveled with him for a time after running in to him in... well, nowhere, really." She leaves out that she met him fleeing from ghouls in an abandoned and long forgotten cemetery. "He was researching diseases born by the dead, and ways to cure them. He was a good man." She offers her arm and a small smile to the young woman. "I'll walk with you, if you would like." Briar Rose is quite strong, but she's also quite short and may make for an awkward pallbearer.
Im so very glad you came. When I was looking for his journal, which I am still reading, I came across a piece of paper with 20 names on it. I had sent out a calling, though I know not why he listed you. Perhaps we will find out when his will is read by Vashion there.
Helmund looks to Kendra, then Vashion.
“He always had his reasons for everything,” he says, voice low and steady. “Even if he kept them close. If our names were on that list… then I trust it meant something.” he says.
"C'mon, Helmund. Not you, Barek, you might break. Like, literally. You really should eat more, friend." He winks, grinning wryly. "Unless you think you can handle it. It's either you or Q."
He steps forward quietly and without hesitation, taking up an empty space beside the casket.