You can't be sure how, and would almost think that only the strands of fate would be able to find you, but a sealed envelope with a vaguely familiar seal finds it way into your person.
"Hello, adventurers. My name is Kendra Lorrimor. While we may have never met, I'm hoping you'll remember my father, Petros. He has named you specifically in his will as his beneficiaries and has specifically requested that you attend his funeral. Please meet me outside the Restlands on the 18th of Pharast so that we may begin the funeral proceedings.
Regards,
Kendra Lorrimor
Petros Lorrimor. That name alone brings up several memories. Tales of adventure, mystery and near death- all to further his own research, though you can't be sure exactly what that research was.
Inquisitor Heinrich von Hexenhammer is mostly an average dwarf... mostly. He is taller than most, but very lanky - as if he's always missed his last few meals. While many non-dwarves would conclude his attitude is what they see as "typical", dwarves would hardly agree. He is strict to the extreme, especially concerning the topics of debt, vengeance, and witchcraft.
The first two make sense enough, if one were to recognize the holy symbol to an obscure dwarven deity scarred on his forehead. Dranngvit is seldom worshiped even among dwarves, though many pay her lip service concerning her portfolio of debt, pursuit, and vengeance. The few actual worshipers of her are considered less then mentally stable when it comes to enforcing their beliefs.
Heinrich's issues with witchcraft stem from a vision he received from Dranngvit during his seminary, which urged him to travel to Ustalav and purge the lands of those using foul magics. Though the true purpose of that mission has yet to unfold, Heinrich is affirmed in his belief that he's on a mission from (his) god and can do no wrong.
In the mean time, Heinrich has been working as a tax collector for various Ustalavan lords to better finance his witch hunting. As it is well known that witches seldom pay their taxes, the two work well together.
Ah yes, the Professor. It's been a few years since I last consulted him concerning witchcraft in the area, and even more since our first encounter when that tax evading witch attacked him. He had proven a stalwart ally in my quest, and it would only be right to pay my respects. Besides, he does still technically owe me for that other time involving those gnomish circus clowns... looks like he's finally going to pay that debt, and I intend to collect in full.
Heinrich arrives early, which suits him. He takes up a spot to better put his Stern Gaze upon the others to arrive, to see if any may be hiding something. Though the invitation made no mention of foul play, to simply assume nothing awry was afoot is not something Heinrich is capable of doing. Besides, what better place for someone involved to be than at the murder of their victim, in some sort of attempt to cover their tracks. The Professor had made more than a few enemies during his life for sure, ruffled too many feathers in the world of academia to simply pass on peacefully.
Hmm... this odd sorting of peoples here is certainly not outside those the Professor would have encountered... elves, rats, one of those who believe a little too much about reincarnation... they all SEEM to be legitimately here... but I better keep an eye out for trouble.
A simple elf named D'thendral. Boring in most respects. D'thandrel is an orphan left at the steps of a Pharasman temple as a babe. No one has found out why or who but no one really asked either. At the very young age of 10 he became an acolyte in the church. He had no discernible talent, no real gift for clerical duties. He was shunted around from church to temple to shrine in various locations across Golorian over the next 50 years. There was only one thing the church thought he was good at, digging holes. The next 50 years found him at many funerals. He was always awkward, not particularly feeling any emotion towards the dead or the living. He liked the solemnity of the night. The church decreed his one skill was needed the most in Ustalav. There were a strange amount of bodies needing put to rest. So, towards the end those 50 years he resigned himself to digging the graves of people who hated him. The sentiment was not returned. Indifference was his attitude. The teachings of Pharasma ignore the petty emotions of the living, showing all things have an end.
Then one day about 15 years ago he was given a task outside his purview. Simple enough, take a letter to the temple in [not sure what town the professor is in]. It was night. It was always night for D'thendral. On his way to the temple he ran into a man being accosted by a being he'd never seen before. This is not odd for him since most of his life has been spent in various graveyards. It was the way they moved that seemed odd. He looked down to see the bodies of elven guards. Without thinking D'thendral picked up a long curved blade. Running over in a calm he had never experienced, D'thendral brought the sword down nearly cleaving the attacker in two. The man looked up with greatful eyes an profaned his thankfulness. D'thandrel only got his title. The blood pumping in his ears. Professor? The professor shook his hand telling he owed D'thendral a debt and scurried off into the night. After having delivered the letter he told the priests what had happened. Even showing them the blade covered in black ooze as evidence. There was a quick bustle of commotion. Everything changed for D'thendral after that day.
The next 15 years were spent training. The priests thought his talents of the night were better suited for honoring Pharasma in a different way. He learned of the true creatures of the night. The abominations that are meant to be sought out and forced into to the circle. After all, all things must come to an end if there is ever going to be a beginning.
As the human approached him, Heinrich faintly smelled something familiar about the lad...
Ah, yes, the smell of dried urine. This poor boy must be exceptionally callow, even by human standards. Hopefully he doesn't wet himself right next to me.
As Heinrich was about to respond to the boy's inquiry, a few others began to arrive. It was easy for Heinrich to see this human didn't feel safe with crowds, as he immediately retreated. Heinrich considered saying something, but he knew this was a somber affair and picking on a young boy wouldn't go over well. Plus, who was he to say anything when he had arrived early only to find the best position to observe the other attendees? Tactical sense or no, fear was still the primary motivator. Difference is, that poor kid seems overwhelmed by it. Looked to be clutching a holy symbol of some kind too... hard to pick out with how hard he was holding on to it. You would think his human gods would grant more strength.
Then there was the elf. Though there was the age old "feud" between elves and dwarves, Heinrich had never had issues with them as a whole - just a few of the non tax paying witch kind. Judging by that elf's sword, it's unlikely he's a witch - but that doesn't rule out that he might owe back taxes on something. But the situation calls for decorum, so no investigating... yet.
Having arrived early, Heinrich was beginning to grow impatient for the proceedings to commence. To better maintain alertness - because you never know when overtly suspicious may show themselves - he reached into a pouch for a pinch. Human chewing tobacco was weak compared to the Dwarven fungus versions, but at least it didn't cause him to sneeze from the spores. After a minute, he realized it would be... inappropriate to begin spitting all over the floor, and someone would likely object if he used one of the flower vases. Oh well, best to keep up appearances and gut it. Don't want to miss out on the Professor's repayment following that gnome after those circus gnomes...
Heinrich shifted back and forth on his feet while the images of those foul gnomes and their incessant laughter replayed in his mind.
D'thendral slowly walked into a small crowd of people gently bumping into some sort of human in full plate with a towering shield. The human nearly jumped out of his suit of armor with fright. D'thendral shrugged and continued to the grave site.
Partly out of habit, partly out of boredom, D'thendral started sizing all the newcomers up for graves. It's something that he truly enjoys. He eyed the frightened human (Size 32) thinking, No matter how much armor you have, you're going to hope you end up in a nice soft grave and not in the mouth of some hideous beast.
Turning he saw a dwarf (Size 19)with a very stern gaze. Thinking to himself, This little one is going to make the gravediggers very busy but one day, if he's lucky, he'll end up in some old dusty tomb with the bones of his forebearers, and not intestinal tract of some foul creature. Either way, they'll all be carrion for the next generation one way or another.