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As posted elsewhere, I plan on getting this up and running again toward the end of March. Those interested in playing should get ahold of me (this is mostly directed toward the existing characters, though pending how many return there may be slots open) Either post here, email me, or respond to my Facebook if you're interested...no need to do more than one (guess for those with my number a phone call or text would work too).
Yeah, initiative...knew I spaced something important...
results:
Rava Zaroff Twistle, Vashian, Group D Savola Grummburrow Group E Group F Kjartan, Jominda, Group A Kendra Falconer (if you're delaying until someone attacks Lodwinn, you'd go when he got attacked, not when he attacked) Group B Lodwinn Pevrin Group C rolls:
Falconer Kjartan Lodwinn Rava Savola Twistle Zaroff NPCs
Hostiles
Feel free to post actions out of order, though if you're low on initiative but quick to post, it might be good to post alternate actions, incase your target gets whacked by someone else.
Falconer:
Cool. Just let me know when you want to throw. Lodwinn: Looks like normal zombies so far.
Kjartan:
With a 30' radius, they're going to need to be rather close, and likely you'll have opportunities to take action before they get to that range. Falconer: For now I'm saying the closest is roughly 80' from the group, and thrown rocks (or improvised thrown weapons in general I believe) have a range incriment of 10'. If you'd like to wait tell they're closer that's fine.
more doom:
Twistle Rava Kjartan Lodwinn Savola Zaroff Falconer Kjartan Knowledge (religion)
Lodwinn, feel free to post a responce for the first spoiler. Huh, some high rolls...
Everyone but Twistle: The faint rustle of dirt and brush can be heard from pretty much all around the group, and now all of you see humanoid shapes in the distance, 80' feet away now.
Kjartan&Lodwinn: While Falconer is speaking of his childhood in Ravengro the two of you notice a humanoid figure shufling about in the distance, about a hundred or so feet from the grave site. There's some tree/bush cover, and the sky is quite overcast, so lighting isn't great.
Twistle:
I'm normally pretty liberal with regards to people "interacting" with the NPCs and coming up with previous connections and what not, but the gnome/halfling salad orgy is a little much. Not a biggy, just letting you know. The procession makes its way to the plot of land Kendra has picked out for her father without further interruption, where they find a smattering of townsfolk, the city officials required for all funerals here in Ravengro, and a pair of surly looking grave diggers. creatures:
Father Grimburrow: Vauran Grimburrow is officially in charge of the temple, but the day-to-day tending of the flock and maintenance of the temple and the Restlands are largely seen to by a dozen acolytes.
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount: A retired military commander who settled in Ravengro and took up the mantle of leadership largely so he could retain a sense of self-importance in his old age. He is the most experienced councilman. Councilman Gharen Muricar: Just a few years junior to his lifelong friend Vashian Hearthmount, but acts like a man half his age. He’s the most up to date on matters outside of Ravengro, keeping the council abreast of national events, and also serves as the city’s unofficial historian. His reputation as something of a rake has not diminished much in his old age—but he’s such an institution in the town that most of the citizens take his lechery in stride, regarding it as “mostly harmless.” Zokar Elkarid: is a man who holds the philosophy that the best way to meet the horrors of the world is with a jest, for if one can laugh at the worst life has to offer, there remains little to fear. His warm and friendly tavern does its best to live up to this admirable philosophy, down to the menu. Pevrin Elkarid: the oldest son of the owner of the Laughing Demon, has taken the role of Post Boy for the last 3 years, charging 1 cp to transcribe five copies of a post and then ensuring that the copies are posted for at least a week. It is at the Posting Poles that the locals leave news of nuptials, job postings for farmhands, or notices of missing pets. The most popular regular item at the Posting Poles, however, is the “Wealday Parchment”—a weekly posting written by elderly councilman Gharen Muricar that summarizes Ravengro’s current politics. Jominda Fallenbridge: As Ravengro's town alchemist, Jominda keeps a well-stocked supply of pharmacological provisions, both herbal and alchemical. Once the coffin is in place, Grimburrow speaks a few solum words, keeping things brief, before letting Kendra speak, followed by anyone else who would like to say a few words. Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or self less moments, thanking everyone once again for coming. She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or
super secret GM die rolling...of DOOM: Twistle Rava Kjartan Lodwinn Savola Zaroff Falconer
The spokesman seems unphased by the pistol pointed roughly his way (holding the coffin one handed and aiming steady is a bit difficult, but you're managing), though if you had to wager on it, this man has probably never seen a firearm before...and you don't look much like a wizard, so at this point he likely thinks your gesturing with a metal shod club. Some of the crowd is beginning to sneak away, looks of shame on their face...shown the error of their decision by the words of the party of adventurers. As more of the villagers notice their number decrecing, that rate increases...soon leaving you and the spokesman...who without another word spits into the dirt and walks away (less someone does something to him on his way out).
Kjartan: Not a problem on the canceling the action. And if a fight does break out, I'll factor in the wisdom bonus to damage. As for diplomacy, all I can say is I feel I emphasised social skills in my explanation to people...so if the party winds up getting burned at the stake by farmers you can feel confident it was likely not your fault...*grin*
Swiftly stepping forward and placing a hand on Kendra's shoulder, Rava whispers something into her ear..."This is not how your father would want you to handle the situation girl, there's no good in killing misguided peasants."
Held in check by the half elf's words, Kendra lowers her hands and ceases her incantation.
Alright, something has been brought to my attention that I should have thought of a few days ago. Can people sound off, weather they're next up in initiative or not...but so I can get an idea of who all is actually paying attention to the thread and who has left for other pastures... ProffessorM...feel free to sound off too if you are lurking, even though you're not present at the scene.
Initiative actually got rolled a few posts above. I save time by rolling it myself (along with saves and some skill checks), but this time I put it in a spoiler, so I think it was hard to see. Zaroff and Rava are the only ones who actually beat Kendra on initiative...so it's looking like it's up to one of those two to actually stop her...
Rava:
The peasants look as though they are more accustom to using their "weaponry" for farming rather than fighting (they are not proficient), and all look to be fairly normal residents of Ravengro (NPC classes, each lower level than your party average level) Zaroff:
The group as a whole seems to be fairly well cowed by the words/glare of you and your party, though the situation still has potential. You get the impression the spokesman of the group would be the most capable in a fight, though he seems more interested in talking the group into fighting than getting his hands dirty himself. The unarmed man looks around at his disheartened would-be lynch mob in disgust. "If you lot ain't got the spine to see the battle through to the end, that's fine. Didn't 'spect much outa you anyways." He turns back to Kjartan, his eyes smoldering with hatred. "Petros worked magic and dealt with for'ners, neither's worth much good to my mind. Things in this town's gotten worse an' worse sense that fool went and stired up trouble in Harrowstone. Who else would willin'ly tramp 'round in a prison full o' ghosts but a slimy corpse lover?"
Everyone begins talking at once, some speaking words of diplomacy, others speaking words of passion...
Falconer:
You recognize this as Gibs, the man who approached you and your young friend with a warrazor so many years ago. When spoken to by Falconer the man turns very cold, "Uncle eh? I thought you looked familiar. Put some muscle on ya' hey boy. All the same, this towns cursed, and Petros' burying petros here ain't gonna do nothin' but make things worse!" He looks around, expecting the crowd to back his statements, but the words of Kjartan and glare from Rava seem to be taking some of the fight from the mob.
I’m going to do a little bit of narration here and there to get things moving, partially due to the long gaps we had, and partially due to my personal belief that this part of the adventure can easily drag a bit. As a heads up, at the funeral you’ll be given an opportunity to say a few words, recount an experience you had with Lorrimor, that sort of thing. This isn’t required, so if you can’t think of anything, it’s no biggy. If you can come up with a cool story though, make a diplomacy or performance check when you recant it. Here is a recap of what you’ve learned so far.
refresher:
You have all travel to Ravengro to attend the funeral of Professor Petros Lorrimor, a man who has had vary degrees of presence in each of your pasts. He was found dead just inside the ruins of Harrowstone Prison, formerly an institute of no small importance locally, that burned fifty years ago. The Professor appears to have died when a stone gargoyle he was examining in the ruins fell on him, crushing his face/head, though this explanation sounds weak. Lorrimor has mentioned each of you in his will, though this makes less sense for some of you than others. The people of Ravengro are a close-knit, if very gosspy, community, which has apparently taken a disliking to the Professor and His daughter sense his death. First day of Rova, 4711
Either being familiar with Ustalavic burial customs, or having been briefed by those who are, you are all prepared for the events of the day. Kendra, being the closest living relative of the deceased will lead the procession from the entrance of the Restlands to the grave site. There you will be met by Father Grimburrow, those few townsfolk who have come to mourn, and the gravediggers. Those acting as pallbearers are considered to have both hands full, and all those holding the casket must take a full round action to set it down. As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, you see the way ahead is blocked by a group of a dozen surly looking locals. The tallest of the group steps forward, saying ”That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimor buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!” Location:
Behind the Funebrial is a large stretch of moorland reserved for interring Ravengro’s dead. Thanks to the Pharasmin church’s influence in town, Ravengro’s graveyard is large and well-tended. Tradition dictates that whenever one passes by (or through) the Restlands, one must always first draw a spiral on her heart as a sign of respect. The sign wards against the risk that the traveler’s passage will disturb the sleep of the departed. Creatures:
Kendra Lorrimor (female human), is present with you, facing off against a dozen or so rough looking towns folk, all human, about two thirds male, one third female. Most look to be simple farm hands and laborers. About half look like they’ve got their blood up, so to speak. The other half look to be there more out of a herd mentality, more people who came along because there was already a crowd. They are all armed with various farm implements, though most look like they wouldn’t know how to swing what they have as a weapon if they had to. One man in particular stands out, the one doing the talking. He’s a fair bit older than most of the rest, but looks like he could still handle himself in a fight. Probably a retired soldier. He is the only one not armed. Initiative: If needed, here are the initiative rolls Falconer Kjartan Zaroff Lodwinn Rava Savola I'll put up a tactical map if it comes to that.
In the process of moving and figuring out internet options in Idaho, so might be a while before get this moving again. Lodwinn...your jot around town doesn't reveal anything unusual, least more so than what you've seen in town sofar. People around town seem to have slept as poorly as you and your companions, and you hear some mention bad dreams continuing as you walk by. Kjartan...sending a letter will cost 1 silver. There's no where to rent a pack animal, though you can buy one for 1 gold from a local farmer without much hassle. Not a problem getting the chest, everything is where you left it, in the condition you left it in. As for people purchasing clothes, go by normal prices as listed in the book. You don't think you'll likely need anything too special. Weather is best described as "building up" in that it's not raining at the moment (though the occasional trickle will pick up for a minute or two) though the sky is dark and thick with clouds. People will be expected to leave for the funeral soonish, so you probably don't want to get too involved in a trip to town just yet.
Zaroff:
No need for a perception check on something that's really only roleplay. You find a few bottles of wine, and a very dusty bottle of brandy. Kjartan:
Unfortunately I didn't take into account the geographic distances your character had on everyone else, and so with egg on my face, all I can say in my defense is the adventure assumes you are all from outside of Ustalav, and all arrive at the same time roughly...as illogical as that might sound. Mostly saying this so you don't run with it as too much of a redherring. There is some conspiracy stuff with you all being here, though some of your connections with the professor are a little thin, you being so far away and arriving along with everyone else is just a hiccup unfortunately...one I shoulda caught, but didn't.
As for the detect stuff patrol, tonight you don't notice anything out of the ordinary, though this is definitely a good idea. Lodwin:
Your patrol around the house doesn't turn up anything tonight, though keeping an eye on the grounds is a rather good idea. More for my own sanity than anything, I'm going to put up occasional "PC checks" that are basically just me writing down where I think everyone is at, and if you think your character is somewhere different, then you need to let me know. So... Savola is in an upstairs bedroom asleep.
Now, assuming that is accurate...
In the morning you all awake, though you feel decidedly unrested. Kendra is in the kitchen with a fresh percolator of coffee percolating, and some breakfast cooking. She looks to have slept about as well as you have, though she's putting on an impressive show of civility and calm.
"Thank you Lodwinn, father always said you had a kind heart. I think what will help the most is sleep, and to be done with this all tomorrow. After the funeral we will return here to read my father's will, and then I will decide what to do with my life." She takes another drink of her wine, seeming to have composed herself. "Please, help yourself to anything you like, the pantries are fairly well stocked at the moment. You are all welcome to stay here, though there aren't enough rooms for everyone to have their own. There are two bedrooms upstairs that could sleep two of you each, and I have made beds up in the living room as well."
Kendra doesn't have much else to say, unless directly asked anything, so unless people want to continue chatting/munching, there isn't much else to do but sleep right now.
"Thank you, thank you all so very much."
Lodwinn: Knowledge(local) - What you've seen and know of the citizens of this town speaks volumes of their prejudices and fear of outsiders, though if what Kendra says about her and her father having been accepted into the community is true, then their treatment of her and lack of support is very strange.
Rava:
Kendra is of Neutral Good alignment, and seems to be upfront about what she has said. Though she does seem to be holding something back, it seems as though it's more an issue of politeness than deception. In that perhaps she is downplaying the recent actions of the towns folk out of loyalty to her neighbors.
Lodwin, could you direct me to your character background? I've got one email that speaks a little, but think the other email is lost somewhere in the bazillion emails I need to go through and clean out.
the key to victory is...timing:
Nearly a decade back, while investigating unexplained earth tremors in Clover's Crossing, you stopped in to visit with the Professor, hoping to ask him if they had felt anything so far away. You arrived at his home to find his door ajar, and he and his daughter missing. Looking about the home, you found some footprints larger than those of the Professor, which had tracked faints amount of dirt across the entry carpet. Immediately you went to find the local constabulary, though the investigation they conducted was hardly worth the name, and took barely longer than one would to say the word. In the end, they decided that the professor had taken his daughter for a stroll outside of town, and likely returned for something forgotten, tracking the dirt in. Not satisfied with this, but not yet comfortable in your authority to confront the rightful law-enforcement about their inemptitude, you bid them good day, and conducted your own investigation. Having found tiny flakes of Muscovite in the dirt tracked into the Professors house, you began speaking with locals in the Laughing Demon about surface exposures of the flaky mineral. While there you encountered a man you knew of by reputation alone, the conman "Doctor" Emrer Evert. A quick tonged former cleric of Pharasma, turned snake-oil salesman. He was attempting to wow the locals with stories of a terrible beast in the woods near by, devouring travelers and abducting maids. He claimed to have been attacked by this beast, nearly ate himself. Just before the mortal swipe of clawed paw, a young girl who came from nowhere screamed out, and drew the beast away. Confronting the man, you commanded that he tell you about the girl, and he gave a perfect description of Lorrimor's daughter. While the man spoke, you noticed a damp stain on his shirt, made by a thick saliva-like liquid. Likely this was drool from the beast which confronted him, giving the liars story further credence. Leaving the fool to be dealt with later, you sped off at great speed to the area he mentioned in his story. You came upon a nightmare scene. A group of men and women wearing only mud and filth, chanting and cavorting about a pillar of stone with the battered form of Petros tied to it's base. His daughter was being tie next to him, though she fought like a demon, kicking scratching and shrieking at her captors. You were greatly relived not to find the man and his daughter in bloody piles of gore as you thought you would, but this was not looking to be the best of circumstances either. As the savages finished securing Kendra, there was a great bellowing howl from off to the south. Knowing you had little time, you decided to gamble. Walking into sight of the group, you called out, keeping the group of cultists awed with grand claims of monster slaying prowess and stern reprimands for falling to the influence of a beast. While you were commanding a pair of cultists to release their captives, the beast struck. It leapt into the group with another mighty howl, sending the dirt covered idiots scampering in all directions. You were confident in the type of beast you faced, though you had no silver amongst your weapons. Not willing to concede this fight, you hefted your crossbow, barely taking time to aim as you knew the beast was preparing to pounce again. It lept into the air, fanged maw wide and coming for you. Your shot was perfect, slipping between the teeth and entering the roof of the mouth. You knew it was not a mortal wound, though it was a hell of an inconvenience. Enough for you to grab the professor, and carry him with help of his daughter back to Ravengro.
After an hour or so of conversation, your hostess returns. Kendra Lorrimor is an attractive, if currently disheveled, human woman in her mid-twenties. She is dressed in a dark red dress, conservative in cut, and brings with her a glass of equally dark wine. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she carries herself with an stoic determination. [b]"Good evening. I'm sorry to have left you waiting so long. B-before we get too far into this, I have a favor to ask of you. There have been some...some troubles with the locals, and I'm not expecting much beyond us and the town officials required for the ceremony to be present at the funeral tommarow. W-what I mean to ask you...there is no one to act as pallbearers for my father."[b] She masters herself with visible effort before continuing. [b]"Would a few of you be so kind as to carry my father in the morning?"[b]
Zaroff: You don't recall the exact services the Professor was providing to your employer, though you heard from some of the peasant staff he was there to examine some recently purchased items of some long lost civilization.
Falconer...Returning to Ravengro is a bitter-sweet experience. It's painfull knowing you will never see your uncle again, and being surounded by some of those nosier folk is a true test of your patients. On the other hand, you still have your cousin Kendra as a living relative, and not all the citizens of Ravengro are as unpleasant as Gibs and his lot.
misspent youth: One of your first visits to uncle Lorrimor's home saw you playing near the bridge in the south west of Ravengro. You and another boy were tossing sticks into the river, seeing who's would get past a rock jutting out of the eastern bank first. The two of you were laughing and chearing your respective racing sticks on, when a man came from a near by shed, face bright red with anger, gripping a battered warrazor in one white knuckled hand. His ranting and yelling was so slured by drink neither of you could understand a word of it, though his threat was obvious enough. Running for your lives, you made it back to your uncles home before being cut down by the madman.
After calming you both down, Lorrimor sent your friend home and sat you down in his library with a warm chamomile tea. "Falconer, I would like to talk to you about what Gibs did today." He said. "War is a terrible thing that I hope you never have to witness, though I believe we have not seen the last of it in these lands. Gibs was once a good man, young and adventrous, much like yourself. But when he was a young man he joined a mercenary group that was out on a recruitment tour. He and a group of his friends signed up, and went away to who knows where, fighting for foolish reasons. Years later, when he returned, and I do meen only he returned, you could see in his eyes that he was haunted. I don't know if it was his own actions during his time as a sell-sword, or the the actions of others he witnessed that broke him, but surely he returned broken. As many men before him, he turned to drink in an attempt to drown those memories, though that never works for long. I don't believe Gibs would have actually hurt you or the other boy, it seems he is more about loud threats and chest thumping than actually following through with any of what he sais. I would rather you stay clear of his shack from now on though, as full of hot air he may be, he is still troubled, and would likely apreciate the quiet."
Kjartan...Your relieved to arrive at your destination, more so than you thought before climbing aboard that boat. The "captain" was the type of man you see from time to time, who had a story for every occasion, and each story had a precursor as well as a moral that obviously needed explaining...in depth. Many of his stories dealt with a town called Illmarsh, on the eastern shore of Ustalav. If half of what this sailor would have you believe could be called truth, the villagers there are breeding their virgin daughters to walking fish-men, and all worship some great tentacled beast from the stars. Though the stories were obviously little more than drivel, his mention of the tentacled beast-god brings to mind your own history, and the late Professors influence upon you...
not long enough ago, in a galaxy far to close to ours: Years ago, during your time amongst the pirates you heard tale from other captives of a disturbing vessel. A single pirate ship, captained by a child of the stars, and crewed by the mad...it was said this ship's captain was the priest of a great tentacled god who was imprisoned in the sea of another world. Truly outlandish seal tales you had thought to yourself, until you saw the ship with your own eyes...
Your captors ship had had a successful week, despite your best attentions, and was rich with slaves and plunder. They were to meet another pirate ship on open waters to pay off a debt, and lighten their load, so the whispers amongst crew and slave said. You and the others were roused from your pen and brought topside for inspection. Once the pirates had you all lined up and quieted, a figure appeared and walked slowly down the line, stopping at each slave briefly. Details of the man's appearance seem to avidly avoid your mind's eye, other than he was unreasonably tall though not broad, as well as the pendant he wore in place of a holy symbol. A single eye surrounded by finger length tentacles, which writhed and swayed as though living. When he came before you there began a faint buzzing tone, though no one else gave any sign of hearing it but you. You remember a smile, though there are no features to accompany it. As the buzzing grew louder the man and your owner discussed terms, though you only remember the conversation as it pertained to you. When asked if the tall man wanted you, his answer was "I will take this one in due time, upon the ripening and fracturing of his thoughts. No sooner." During your brief travels with the Professor you shared this story with him, and peaked his interest. That night as well as many others during the trip, you stayed up late into the evening discussing strange cults and the possible identity of the tall man you encountered. In the fool who brought you to Ravengro's rambling stories one detail managed to penetrate the wall of practiced disinterest you'd developed for the man...He claimed to have met a man in Illmarsh with a holy symbol consisting of a ball of writhing tentacles kept on a chain around his neck.
Savola...there is a pleasently warm hearth in the kitchen, with a breakfast nook style table and several well fashioned wooden chairs.
the long road back: It's been many years, but little has changed in Ravengro. Though the Professor tried his best to keep you crear of the chattering folk of this town, you have to smile to yourself as you walk through the muddy streets, seeing a face here whom you've heard is actualy father to the daughter of his neighbor; or passing a home which houses agents of some dark and secretive cult, if you would believe what is said over a fence. A particular chuckle bubles it's way from your lips as you pass the home of one Wren, the feather mage. Ravengro's only full elf citizen, and likely the most eccentric person you have ever met. It was from her "little birdies" that she heard the truth of Jominda Fallenbridge, which she shared with you...telling you how the town appothecary does more than brew potions, but crafts noxious poisons and soul gripping drugs for sale to those who know how to aproach her propperly. Though the sherif spends nearly as many hours snooping around her shop as he does everywhere else combined, he still has not collected the proof to send the woman away for good...
Upon entering the kitchen area you see a sketch of a man whom you have some vague recollection of. distant past: Years ago, while guarding the home of a merchant in Khorvosa you were approached by a man interested in the specifics of your unusual weaponry. Though no one of any true consequence, then man was still of some value to your employer, so you aimed to dismiss him in a civil manner. Before you were able to dismiss the presumptuous man tragedy too place. Your employer was assaulted in his bedchambers while you were distracted by this supposed professor in the den. You quickly made your way through the mansion to discover your employer bloodied but alive, laying prone and whimpering with grappling hook imbedded in his thigh, the trailing cord leading to the shattered hole of what was once a tall window. Apparently the burglar had ran off with some gaudy bauble of your employers, using the man as an anchor in his escape.
You'd arrived in time to spy a shadowed form slipping through the mansions courtyard, and in the blink of an eye had your pistol out ready and aimed. The shot rang out, and though you know it struck true, the bastard burglar did not fall. All present were thoroughly impressed with your quick action though. Your employer was wise to not hold you responsible for the successful theft, though it had galled you to have such a stain on your career. It was originally rumor of a jeweled scepter, like what was stolen from your employer, that led you to Ustalav, though that information was directing you to Lepidstadt when you received a letter mentioning this will. Strange that the man who was distracting you while your employer was being assaulted would live in the same country the thief chose to liquidate his spoils?
"That you for your hospitality. Do you have a barn or shed that I can stable my horse in for the evening?" "Of course, of course. I'm such a mess now, I didn't even think of your poor horse in this mess outside. Yes, there is a small stable behind the house." Kendra tells you. The stable is large enough to house five horses comfortably, maybe seven uncomfortably, and has plenty of dry space to store packs.
Carrion Crown: Chapter One: The Haunting of Harrowstone
You have each received a letter from the daughter of an old acquaintance, informing you of her father's untimely death. She has requested that you come to her father's home in Ravengro, a small town in western Ustalav, as you have each been mentioned in the Professor's will. Some of you have traveled far across Golarion to be here, others have made only a short trip. Some have had harrowing adventures along the way; others were treated to a peaceful journey. You are all in Ravengro now. Background:
Numerous small towns dot the fog-shrouded landscape of Ustalav. At first glance, these towns might all seem kindred spirits – cozy collections of quaint buildings surrounded by farmland, their skylines decorated by the steeples of Pharasmin churches or the steep rooflines of colorful taverns. Yet in Ustalav, appearances are often deceiving, and many of the nation’s towns and villages harbor sinister secrets. Some small towns grow up around a university, their shops and other offerings catering to a scholastic clientele. Others boast famous festivals or specialized industries that draw skilled artisans and craftsmen. But in the sad case of Ravengro, the town’s claim to fame is a prison. And not just any prison, for Ravengro supported one of Ustalav’s most notorious jails – Harrowstone. Twice a year, a prison convoy rounded up the worst of the worst from smaller, less secure jails across the principality and transferred them to Harrowstone, often to await death by hanging, but always to live out the rest of their lives as prisoners. Half a century has passed sense criminals were held within the prison’s walls however, not sense a great fire took Harrowstone, killing prisoner and guard alike. Few outside Ravengro know much of what happened those fifty years ago, as it seems the one bit of gossip the locals don’t wish to discuss is their ruined prison. While Harrowstone has remained a constant reminder of darker times, the town of Ravengro has recovered remarkably. Today, the town is a quite healthy farming community blessed with fertile fields and orchards. The town’s chief products are wheat, barley, and corn. Because the town is close to the shore of Lake Lias, Ravengrians can supplement their food stores with fish, but fishing is not sustainable as a commercial enterprise. Despite their success, Ravengro’s citizens are the town’s greatest hindrances to expansion. Insular, they take some time to warm to strangers and often damage new opportunities for trade with their standoffish attitudes. Yet as hesitant as the townsfolk are to talk to strangers, they are all to eager to talk about them. Rumormongering and gossip are traditional pastimes among the townsfolk, especially when it comes to strangers.
Location:
You have arrived at Ravengro late in the evening, during what some of you would call a downpour, but the locals merely refer to as a pleasant drizzle. Traveling down the road into town you see a number of homes, some modest and dour, though there are a pair of larger affairs, likely the homes to town officials, before coming accross a thick wooden post just off the side of the road, with several papers tacked to it. Looming behind the post is what you will soon discover to be the most extravagant building in Ravengro. A massive stone church dedicated to Pharasma. Continuing on to the town proper you find the Lorrimor estate, a modest but well cept home with a small garden outside and a smoking stone chimney on it's roof.
Creatures:
The few people of Ravengro who are braving the “drizzle” appear to be simple farmers and craftsmen, much the same as you would find anywhere else in this region of Ustalav, though perhaps they possess a more piercing stare than most others of Canterwall, or a darker expression as they eye you intruding upon their town. Surely there is more whispering as you pass than you are accustomed to. first to arrive:
Knocking on the varnished wooden door, you are quickly answered by an attractive human woman in her early to mid twenties.
"Hello, please come in out from the rain. Greetings, I am Kendra, Petros' daughter. You must be (she knows your first name), my father has spoken of you often. Please, come in and warm yourself by the hearth. The weather is tame for this time of year, though unpleasent nontheless. You're the first to arive, though I've prepared coffee and something of an evening meal. There in the kitchen, all is lain out. I appologize, but I must return to the library. My father kept far to well of a record of his travels, and it is daunting going through it all. I will be down shortly, after everyone has arived, to greet you all at once." With that, unless you ingage her in conversation she makes her way to the library and leaves you to your coffee, cured meats, and rhye rolls. the rest: Knocking on the varnished wooden door, you are quickly answered by an attractive human woman in her early to mid twenties.
"Hello, please come in out from the rain. Greetings, I am Kendra, Petros' daughter. You must be (she knows your first name), my father has spoken of you often. Please, come in and warm yourself with the others by the hearth. The weather is tame for this time of year, though unpleasent nontheless. I've prepared coffee and something of an evening meal for you all. There in the kitchen, all is lain out. I appologize, but I must return to the library. My father kept far to well of a record of his travels, and it is daunting going through it all. I will be down shortly, after everyone has arived, to greet you all at once." With that, unless you ingage her in conversation she makes her way to the library and leaves you to your coffee, cured meats, and rhye rolls. |
