So this is moving quite....SLOWLY.
Search Posts
"So Sir Giles, you propose that this is the crypt that our dear Professor perused?"
"Well then, I suppose we should prepare ourselves for tonight. Dareth, I shall defer to you for this adventure."
"I understand..." "Ms. Kendra, will you be ok here by yourself tonight?"
"Thank you, Sir Giles. You truly have a gift for knowledge." "I too have heard of The Whispering Way, although much of my knowledge of them was just revealed by Sir Giles. Now you understand, Dareth, that I feel a slight apprehension of leaving Ms. Kendra, given that we have just been charged with her protection. If The Way were somehow responsible for The Professor's death, it stands to reason that they might come after his family." "Don't be misinformed, however. I do think that we should investigate the Shrine to determine any useful information. However..."
"I will accompany you as well. If the Professor was indeed involved with The Way as he described...I fear that Ms. Kendra will indeed need our protection." "Ms. Kendra, what do you know of The Whispering Way? Giles and Dareth, you as well. I feel that before we venture out, we should understand what we are walking into." As Mignar speaks, he finds a chair and sits down, looking as though he is ready to divulge more information. However, he stops himself, and leans back, as if waiting for a response.
Mignar's face grows grim. "The Whispering Way..."
Mignar picks up "Serving Your Hunger", with a look of distaste painted on his face. "It is becoming clearer why the town folk may have had their suspicions regarding what the Professor did in his spare time." Mignar then looks to Kendra with a smile. "Even though I'm sure they are outlandish accusations." Mignar puts down the book, and picks up the journal that says, "Read me now!", and opens it.
"The only research he and I have spoken of are the details of the undead. Vile, evil, disgusting creatures. As Mignar speaks, his light mood and temperament turns to a scowl, and a dark look appears on his face. However, just as quickly, he looks to Kendra and smiles, losing his aggressive tone. "Ms. Kendra, might have you any idea as to what these tomes of the late Professor's might entail? I understand he might not have shared anything with you personally, to keep you out of trouble, but perhaps books were left open, or words were said in what were thought to be private quarters."
Mignar folds his hands in front of him. "An unusual will, indeed."
"Combating evil, eh? Not something your typical librarian would venture towards. I could think of less life-threatening hobbies to pursue."
"So Sr. Giles, what book has you so engrossed in its pages?"
"Ah, I see. So your silence was in self-restraint. I understand, and commend you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear Dareth. At this, Mignar again toasts to his pall-bearer companions, and sips his wine, very slowly.
"As I stated during my eulogy, my name is Mignar Gariksson. I hail from Caliphas. I am a Master Caliph of Sarenrae. I must also thank you for speaking up against those angry villagers. I had hoped I would not be the only voice of reason. The population of this country certainly knows no bounds when it comes to common decency." At this, Mignar toasts Sr. Giles, and sips from his goblet. Mignar turns to the other man who had volunteered to be a pall-bearer. "While I mean no disrespect, might I ask why you chose to remain silent during that confrontation, sir? And while we are at it, your name as well?
"Of course. Might I inquire as to your name?
Following along with Giles, Mignar offers, "Good sir, would you like any help carrying anything? It seems as though you seem a bit...weighed down.
Mignar, his hood over his head, walks to the front of the small crowd, lowers his head, and silently prays to himself. After about thirty seconds of silence, he picks his head up and pulls back the hood of his cloak. His face is emblazoned with a fierce, yet friendly, look, as if the storm-ridden clouds had opened, and a ray of light shone upon his face, despite the fact that it was still drizzling. “Praise be to Sarenrae, and may Her Light shine upon you in this dark time. My name is Mignar Gariksson. I am a Master Caliph of Sarenrae, as well as Diplomat to the Virlych Dwarves in the Hungry Mountains. I come before you humbled before this knowledged man. Professor Lorrimor was a man unknown to me until a few short years ago. He approached me while I was travelling back from my annual visit to the Hungry Mountains. He did not impress me upon first glance, for I was, at that time, accustomed to the burliness of the dwarves, and had not shifted my expectations to those of a more…humble nature. He asked if I was Mignar the Master Caliph, and if he might walk back with me to my home, Caliphas. I assumed he might be looking for a bodyguard, another role I have frequently occupied, and agreed, assuming he had the proper compensation after we had reached our destination. During the trip back to Caliphas, the Professor was extremely interested in the story of my encounters with the undead, especially one tale that almost took my life. I will not spend my time here in front of you regaling you with the whole story, but will show you the scar that Professor Lorrimor was so intrigued by.” At this, Mignar lifts up his sleeve, showing a black handprint emblazoned on his lower arm, as if someone had tried to grab him, leaving a permanent bruise. “He conveyed that he would like to remain in correspondence with me, even offering me assistance in learning about the foul creatures, should I ever encounter them again. I accepted his offer, along with a tome of some of his notes on the beasts, and accepted them as payment for protecting him on our travels. And what he spoke next will always remain with me. He said to me, ‘Ah, but it was I who was, and will be, protecting you.’ And while we have been in touch with each other in the time since then, this is unfortunately the first, and last, time I have seen him since that fateful journey. I leave you with this: We are all blessed with gifts and talents. Some of us are blessed with incredible strength and endurance. Some of us are blessed with innate wisdom and sense. But all of us here have been blessed to have known Professor Lorrimor, a truly unselfish man, who looked to help out those he saw that needed it. I know not how he knew my name, nor why he chose to help me. I can only assume he saw a man in need, and chose to be the man I’m sure you know him to be: A Great One. Thank you for letting a sentimental one ramble, and may Sarenrae cast Her Light on your life.” Mignar then pulls the hood of his cloak over his face, casting a shadow over his face, as if dimming the glow it had been seemingly been giving off. He then takes his place in the crowd.
"Gentlemen, let us not waste our breath by continuing to talk about them. While they may have acted boorishly today, I'm sure they are justified in their own minds, just as we are in ours. Let us make haste towards the grave site. I'm sure Father Grimburrow will be wondering what misfortunes might have befallen us, should we take any longer."
Mignar smiles to himself, nods to the other that spoke up, then looks to Kendra. "After you, Ms. Kendra."
"Well, there you have it. Perhaps you have been misinformed as to the Professor's deeds. An honest mistake, I'm sure. Now, if you don't terribly mind, I believe we are being quite inconsiderate to Ms. Kendra here, and the casket DOES grow heavier with each passing breath."
Mignar looks to the other members of the funeral procession to see if anyone else shall speak up, or if it will only be his voice which stands to reason.
So I should have 175 + (9*4) = 211 GP.
Mignar, accustomed to dealing with stubbornness, calls out to the men, "Might I inquire as to your reasoning, good sirs? And please be succint. While this casket is not terribly heavy, the mood is somber, and I grow impatient."
Wow, I JUST found this place...
Mignar follows behind, pulling black the hood of his cloak, revealing his dark face and hair. He pulls his long black hair out, letting it fall on his cloak, creating a grand contrast between light and dark.
Mignar politely nods to the white haired fellow, not wanting to seem rude to the other members of the funeral. Although he had a point: Professor Lorimor seems smaller than he last remembered him. Mignar looks into Kendra's eyes with a compassionate stare. "I shall offer my strength to you, and would be honored to serve as your late father's Pallbearer."
Mignar Gariksson is a very stout 4'10", with skin the color of forged bronze, and hair as black as the haunted night. His attire is covered by a predominantly white cloak, which fades into black towards the bottom, although gauging by the bulkiness of his girth, one would assume he is wearing some form of armor under it. He wears his cloak low over his head, but his eyes seem to see all, and watch over everything. On his way to the gate, Mignar is greeted by a few other travelers who he has met on the wary road before. However, unlike his usual practice, he does not break bread with them. His normal and friendly, yet smirk-like, smile is replaced with a solemn and downtrodden face. As Mignar starts to see the gate, he hastens his pace. |