Deivon the Kinslayer's page

Deivon nods. "It would be best to find a place to... protect people from it. Just looking at it should make most people shy away, but some folks..."[./b] His hand goes to his holy symbol. [b]"Well, sometimes curiosity is a really bad thing. And I agree, we should meet with some of the locals, inform them we'll be staying. Not too much detail, but enough to keep them from asking questions they shouldn't."

He scratches his chin. "And if miss Lorrimor has been left in our charge, it is our duty to make sure these locals don't do anything they would soon regret, yes?"

Deivon looks at the books closely. He shudders as he spots the book Serving Your Hunger. But as he reads over the journal he begins to furrow his eyes. The Whispering Way?

He scrounges his mind for as much info that he could remember about them.

I want to roll a knowledge check to see how much I know about them, but not sure which one...

Sounds fine!

Glad to hear about your mother, Hotrek. May things get better sooner n_n

Should we continue, botting Hotrek as needed?

Man, this is a bad time of year, huh? :C Hope everything gets better for everyone, you all will be in my thoughts.

I, for one, am willing to put up with ya n_n

No prob, Ysmerelda. Take your time, sort things out n_n

No prob GM Scotty n_n Glad to be a part of this!

And Ysmerelda, hope everything goes better!

Still here!

I'll stay. Sorry to hear your life has taken a turn, Scotty. I'll keep you and yours in my thoughts.

Deivon notices Ysmerelda's look, but pays it little heed. He takes his place and begins to graciously eat his meal. The Professor wanted her protected, so I'll honor that. He looks to Granny and gives her a smile. "A good meal, ma'am. My compliments."

Deivon looks towards Kendra, nodding. "He wanted to protect you. A commendable deed for a loving father. I agree with Miss Sirsi here in that we should eat before we go and look at them. And, if I may, ma'am, ask that you not accompany us to your father's room. I only wish to continue protecting you like he did, and seeing these tomes may break that and leave his soul in, perhaps not anguish, then saddened at the least."

Hope everyone is having a fun holiday n_n

Deivon is a little flabbergasted. Payment was expected, most who attend will readings receive such, but this was definitely an odd request.

"As odd as this may be, this is his will. And I also do not wish for anything vile to fall into disreputable hands. I shall stay, help as I can, then carry out this final mission for our dear departed professor."

I vote, for now at least, to move on. Might spur more posts, yes?

Deivon offers a small whispered prayer one last time as the funeral ends. "Now let us retire and hear the Professor's will. It may give evidence to his last days as well as a fond farewell."

He then steps closer to the Father, nodding at him. "A fine eulogy, Father."

Once the casket is placed, Deivon steps back and bows his head solemnly.

Deivon looks at the Father, nodding solemnly at him. This man has seen better years, but even I can see he is devout. He steadies himself, prepared to lower his former employer and, possibly, friend into his final resting place.

Deivon nods to Hotrek's comment. "Better to lay him to rest with dignity and haste lest the locals become... Well, I don't feel like causing a funeral right now, let's just say that. Come, Pharasma awaits the completion of our ritual."

Crazy day for me as well, but I'll post when I get home and over the weekend as well

Deivon frowns some, thinking that the crowd was just a bunch of drunken fools. Shrugging, he returns to the casket. "Let us continue before the locals decide to disturb us once more..."

I think the local yokels are cowed enough now <.<

Deivon steps forward, raising his silver holy symbol of Pharasma.

"Be it so known, that any person who dares disrepects this man's final rights, or bring shame to this sacred ceremony will be judged not just by me, but by the Mother of Souls, Our Lady of Judgement, Pharasma. Now part and let the dead be laid to rest or prepared to be Judged early!"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Well, Deivon here is wearing his Explorer's Outfit with a neck guard and armored coat over it, but these are trimmed in black and violet. So, he looks pretty good

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13 Hearing the noise, Deivon follows suit in lowering the casket to the ground. "What in the holy name of Pharasma..."

Deivon turns and listens to his fellows, nodding at Ysmerelda's suggestion. "Best find out soon so we may continue this most sacred of ceremonies."

Sounds right to me.

Deivon takes his handle, lifting it with a small strain, but wanting to show the proper respect. As such, he takes one of the handles near the feet.

See ya soon then, Hotrek

Deivon nods to all assembled. Well, Professor, at least you are being sent off properly and not in some dank dungeon... He sighs deeply, offering one small prayer to Pharasma before taking his place at the side of the casket.

Sure!

Disguise: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

At the agreements, Deivon turns to Kendra. "If that isn't too much of an issue, that is. I understand that as Pharasma judges, those closest to the person usually grieve tremendously. If you don't feel up to it, I will not press the issue."

His hand remains on his silver holy symbol, following the gentle swirls on it.

I know the feeling, Scotty, I do T-T

Deivon steps closer to Sirsi, stopping himself from putting a hand upon her shoulder. "I am certain the Professor asked for us by name. But, I would make the suggestion that the family walks before the casket, if that is fine. Old Pharasman tradition, the family leads, the friends carry."

Deivon, having put his things away, makes his way back to the group. He gives Granny and Kendra a nod. "I'm Deivon. I'm not sure if you remember me Kendra, we met once in brief passing a few years back. Didn't say anything, was just near your father. In any case, I am sorry for your all's loss. He was a fine man, and may Pharasma guide his soul to good realms beyond." His hand falls to his holy symbol, a small prayer offered in silence to his chosen patron deity.

As he learns that he has been offered the right to be a pallbearer, a look of amazement crosses his face. "I'm deeply honored for the opportunity." He was shocked. Called for a funeral? That he could understand. Will reading? Probably Lorrimor thinking he forgot payment on something and posthumously wanting to make right. But pallbearer was a right usually reserved for close family and friends. Maybe Lorrimor thought more of him than he thought.

He turns to see young Petros near the girls and he slowly approaches, lowering himself to look at the oddly tall toddler. "I'm sorry that your papa went to sleep, young one." Children were usually the most difficult to judge in funerals. Some simply took it in stride, not understanding. Other would flip, not understanding. He looked calm though, so a simple and sincere message should suffice.

"Pharasma take all they who have shunned her embrace for false life!" Deivon hisses beneath his breath. With the talk of undead, his devout faith and harsh training edge forward. His hand fall to his waist where a silver holy symbol of Pharasma is tied through his belt loop. "If undead are the cause of his death, then they shall not stand before my righteous fury..."

Deivon sighs, nodding. I can't say I'm surprised at the number of people who have met Lorrimor, but for so many to be attending his funeral! He chuckles some, watching a group of them playing some fool game.

I will post my choices for players this Saturday. I do not want to be a tease, but my profession has extremely variable hours, a frenzied pace, and is physically demanding and I do not want to make my final call until I have had a little rest.

Sounds like my job! n_n Well, best of luck in choosing your players and best of luck to all applicants once more!

Noting no one joined him in his quiet toast, Deivon takes a small sip and sits back down, looking as Ysmerelda. "A simple toast for a man of such character." He sighs, as thoughts of his faith, and by extension his mission, come forth.

I'd like to wish everyone the absolute best of luck!

Deivon nods along to the growing crowd, growing somewhat anxious at it's size. It seemed as if the tavern were a magic watering hole, pulling in folks from not only across Ustalav, but the planes themselves.

As he gets his tea again, he slips the woman a whole gold, smiling at her. "The tea is lovely ma'am." As he turns back to the group, he stands holding his cup high. "A moment of silence for the man who has drawn us here from the world over. To Lorrimor! May the Lady of Final Fates guide him to his final rest."

"Well, he seemed to know a lot. That's not surprising. His benefactors were never in the picture, and some of the missions were odd. Never let me in on the bigger motives, but then again, I was simply there to protect him." He waves over to the bartender. "Excuse me, sir, but may I have some more tea, please?"

Deivon listens carefully, noting her experiences. "Well, he was good with a whole slew of folks. Once saw him stand and take a hail of insults from some crusading types. Few hours later they were acting like he was their school teacher, hanging on to his words the way they were. Amazing man, yet so... secretive about some things. Then again, that only added to him, I suspect."

He nods in return to her statement. "I met her once. Only in passing, mind, but she well and good enough. Worried about her father, but even I could see she was itching to leave with him. Never did let her, though. 'Far too dangerous. Don't want her where I am,' he would say. He payed well enough and was amicable enough towards me despite my... Well, let's just say he didn't pry in on me, so I didn't pry in on him." He places his hand over his heart, his thumb twirling slightly.

"And now the Lady if Graves has him. But I know he was well enough that she should send him to a decent enough realm. Never talked too much on faith, he."

Deivon the Kinslayer wrote:

Deivon stands and looks around. The room is rather full now, and he decides to seek a secluded corner somewhere. By some odd stroke of luck, the Professor's associates all seem to have congregated into this small tavern. Man knew a lot of people, but it feels like half of Ustalav is here...

Seeing the grim & pallid fellow looking about for a quiet corner Ysmerelda waves invitingly, nodding to the empty space at her own table.

Seeing to motion, Deivon moves over and, with a little bow, accepts the seat. "Thank you, madam. I'm afraid I don't do to well in the growing crowd here. So I understand you and the Proffesor knew each other as well? That seems to be the common thread of connection here, after all." He gives her as warm a smile as his pale face can muster.

Deivon stands and looks around. The room is rather full now, and he decides to seek a secluded corner somewhere. By some odd stroke of luck, the Professor's associates all seem to have congregated into this small tavern. Man knew a lot of people, but it feels like half of Ustalav is here...

Deivon looks around the room, shaking his head some. Most of his compatriots in the order would be able to detect the taint of undeath. Sadly, he had no access to said power at the moment. But unlike them, he could stand being in daylight, even if he had to squint just a little.

"Yes, Lorrimor made his way around. Feel like my time with him I saw half of Ustalav, spent a season in Lastwall and outran a few followers of Blackfinger. And he paid well." Enough for me to return to my real work...

"A mere pup, by some, Morthos. I know one fellow who is twice that. He avoids mentioning his own age of 120. Best not scare the locals, yes?

"I may have a tale worth telling. Few years back, the Professor and I were out near the Belkzen border. Orcs were crawling around the place, but we hid and moved slowly enough to keep them from spotting us. He thought he had found some ancient temple to some bird god or something." He sips the last of his tea, tearing into his venison some. "Never did find it. Stumbled in on some Orc shaman practice. They were kind enough to not slit our throats then and there. Long ceremony, lots of feathers. We were stripped and wrapped up in some coarse cloth. Lorrimor started smiling about then. Knew we were safe when I saw that.
A small grin creases his face as memories of the night come back. "I got worried when they separated us, but Lorrimor simply shrugged it off, and they dragged him off to some blasted cave. Didn't see him all night, and then about an hour past sun up, he comes strolling out of the cave, cut me loose and we got our gear and got out." He leans back and chuckles as the memory of the next bit comes forth. "Asked him how he got free, and all he said was 'Diplomacy works wonders. So does knowing Orcish. And that we wandered in on a pre-wedding bash.' Apparently the one who pulled him off had a little liking of him. Poor fellow didn't walk right for a week." A loud laugh leaves the pale man. "To Lorrimor, and the Orc lady who had a fancy for him." He raises his glass before remembering that it's empty. Frowning, he asks for a refill.

"Lorrimor? I can assume, then, that it is the same Lorrimor whom I have been called on as well?" He glances over at the woman with heterochromatic eyes. "Tea helps one keep one's wits where alcohol numbs and slows them. And, if I may say so, the tea is rather good here. Must be the honey I added." He takes a long sip, visibly enjoying the hot drink. "The further north one goes, the better the hot drink gets, I've found."

Sounds like a wonderful mentor for Deivon here, then. Though Deivon is much more on the whole 'banishing the darkness,' than 'bringing the light.'

With a little 'eureka' moment as he finally remembers about Father Grimbrow, a small little grin creases his face. "I'll have to look him up..."

Know Religion: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 2 = 27
Fairly certain I know something n_n

He looks at the bartender and nods. "If you have any, I'd like some venison, lightly seared. No garlic please." He slowly begins to mix his tea the way he likes as he turns towards Mr. Wolf.

"Objectives? None, really. I knew a man there who died recently." He holds aloft a letter pulled from a pouch. "His daughter says I'm to appear for a reading of his will. I don't expect much, he was generous enough in life. But that is about as much 'objective' as anyone needs to know."