All of you have some tie or link with Professor Petros, be it through study, a shared love of Elivish Absinthe or an obsession with the recently-dead-but-not-so-dead-anymore. You have been called to the estate of Petros by the executor of his will. His passing was sudden, unexpected for anyone. You are each informed that you will be receiving something in Petros' will...
Although he was getting on in years, Petros’s death was rather sudden and his daughter Kendra, a 25- year-old woman who has lived in Ravengro for nearly 15 years (having moved here with her family as a child from Lepidstadt after her father retired from teaching), is still in mourning. Her eyes are red and puffy and she dresses in dark, conservative clothes. Trim and attractive, Kendra greets the recently arrived mourners with a mixture of curiosity, sadness, and relief—no one else has come to pay their respects to her father, and “with things the way they are in town these days,” very few folks from Ravengro have come out for the funeral as well. Kendra waves off questions for now, promising the adventurers that after her father is buried and they return to her house, she’ll answer any questions they have—both about her father’s death and about his will.
Gaarm was a simple man. A soldier on the cities gate, so he was used to the unexpected. Standing just a little under six feet tall the human had very broad shoulders from the daily regime within the city. Usually it was stopping small disputes and moving the city along it's daily tasks for merchants and the like.
One day while going to the local tavern to cool off Gaarm hears a slight scuffle and moaning in the alleyway near the building. Just brushing it off as a simple tryst between two lovers he enters the building and has a few drinks.
About an hour later Gaarm leaves a bit intoxicated but ready for bed as he will have to be up fairly early the next day. By Gorum that one hit me hard!. While leaving he hears the same scuffling from around the alley and soon the scream of a man. Quickly rushing around the corner Gaarm hardly believes his eyes when he sees two undead abominations attacking a frantic looking man with spectacles. By the Gods what are these creatures he thought as he had never seen a creature rising from the dead. The two skeletons, bones bleached white advance upon the man tearing at his clothes and skin. Quickly reacting Gaarm reaches for his greatsword, which he had left within his room. Little left to do he rams the skeleton with all of his might, in a drunken stupor and grabs the man dragging him away in a hurry before realizing that the skeleton had clawed deep marks across his back.
After a short run away, a seemingly safe distance, Gaarm looks to the man who introduced himself as Professor Petro and thanked Gaarm profusely for saving him. After catching his breath and vomiting in the middle of the empty street Gaarm offers to walk the Professor back to his home to make sure that he reaches it safely.
"And that is the story on how I met the Professor" Gaarm explains to another group of travelers currently at the viewing. I did not know him all that well but I felt that I should pay my respects none the less. What about you all? How did you come about meeting Petro?
Met the Professor he says pausing for a second. Well I was not always on this path, when I was a boy I was quite, well to put it simply I was a bit of a trouble maker. He caught me trying to pit pocket him. Instead of turning me in he had me work off the infraction by helping him around his house and study. After a month of servitude he allowed me to stay on for a bit and earn some money. He began to grow quote fond of me thinking if me as a son. I worked for him until I could get back up on my feet.
"Well I am sorry for your loss. Petro was a good man." The man says grasping Sir Thomas hand firmly. "the name is Gaarm. Good to meet you"
Gaarm is it? You may call me Tom Sir Thomas says as he returns the hand shake.
Excuze me... came a soft cough from at their feet.
Looking up at them was a small scaly creature with wings. One would mistake it for a hatchling dragon or the sort, but at a second glance one would see it is the face of a red scaled kobold. He was dressed in a similar fashion. Dark red robes and a hood. One could barely see his feet or clawed hands
Iz thiz profezors petroz houze? Nizvit comez to zay rezpectz
It is his house. Thomas says slightly perplexed for a moment, he then offers his hand and says.Nizvit, my name is Sir Thomas.
The kobold shakes his hand. A lot warmer for what one would expect from a cold blooded reptile
"Zir Tomaz? Nizvit zayz greetingz. Profezor waz friend. Nizvit and him helpz to ezcape lizard eater. Nizvit iz zad profezor iz gone" he looks down, obviously he was taking it a bit hard
"Profezor firzt pink zkin not to try and killz nizvit or beadz."
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A man with slightly otherwordly looks sits quietly in the corner, as if in a meditative trance. He stares into the corner of the room, not engaging in conversation, and if it weren't for his eyes being open, one might guess him asleep.
A small man with black hair bows his head in greeting, a rather large well fed cat is rubbing against his legs as he walks in.
"Hello, I'm Naxx..maybe you've heard of me? Traveling story teller and a master of the tin whistle? My condolences to all of you. The Professor shall be missed, I liked trading stories about local legends with the man"
"Naxx? I iz called Nizvit. Happy to meet you. It iz zad day. But remember profezor fondly" the small kobold smiles exposing his small needle teeth
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Kendra Lorrimor approaches each of you and asks if you will be pallbearers for the esteemed professor to his final resting place in the Dreamwake.
"It would be my honor"
Nizvit looks down then up at the one who asked
"Nizvit would like that. But Nizvit too zhort to help..."
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"I will assist you Nizvit. Just stand in front of me and we will not go too fast for you. I would be glad to assist
A man and a fourteen year old boy stand up. The man speaks. We would be honored to act as pallbearers.
A stout woman steps forward and bows her head towards Kendra. I will offer my strength as well.
Kendra claps her hands together and smiles. Thank you, everyone. My father would have been happy to see his dearest friends gathered here like this.
---------------------------------------------------
Kendra leads the procession along the Dreamwake, a gravel pathway that winds through the Restlands Cemetary. Naxx and Gaarm have both hands firmly gripping the supports as Nizvit is struggling to keep his support up above his head. Phyton walks solemnly behind the procession.
As the procession reaches the halfway point along the Dreamwake, rounding a corner onto a path called the Eversleep, they see that the way ahead is block by a group of a dozen surly-looking locals. The leader looks to be a tall wiry man, but he appears to be well past his prime.
That's far enough! He stands firmly in the middle of the path and the men with him fan out to block any pathway around him.
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!
"Oi! You haz no right to deny thiz man hiz rezt!" the little kobold growled, one could almost see flames in his eyes at this intrusion
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This man has offered enough to his community. The least we can do is give him a peaceful rest. That is unless you wish for this to possible cause his spirit some unrest and have him come back to haunt you of course. Your choice.
What reason do you have for denying this man his rest. Sir Thomas says as he stops with the rest of the procession. He looks around to see if any of these men pose a real threat.
Naxx will wait to hear the explanation the man will give (if any) before speaking up.
The lead man's fists relax a bit at Gaarm's attempts at diplomacy, however Kendra is swift to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into
anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. “I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He’s waiting for us! The grave’s already
been...”
“You don’t get it, woman. The town won’t have a necromancer buried
in the same place as our kin. I suggest you move out while you still
can. As you know, you father brought trouble upon our town. Folks, not saying us, but folks are pretty upset about this right now.”
Her father waz not a necromanzer. You pinkzkin iz wrong! Nizvit knowz profezor well, you pinkzkin wantz to make a zene. Give profezor hiz rezt!
The little kobold was fuming now, why could they not be more like his own tribe, or most other creatures, these pinkskins were always looking for one or other way to cause trouble and be important
"I am curious..why do you assume the late Professor was a necromancer?"
asks Naxx
It would be far from me to want any harm to come to this town, but what harm could burying a dead man cause?
Sir Thomas looks sternly at the casket.
You newcomers don't even know the man. Fine bury him where you please, but this is on you if the graveyard rises in our sleep and murders us. The lead man spits at the ground in front of the procession and the group of men sullenly disperse, shooting venomous glances at the lot of you and Kendra, but leaving the cemetery nevertheless and allowing the procession to continue.
After the men back down and leave, Kendra relaxes a bit and profusely thanks you. Oh thank you for standing up for my father! I knew that there was something special about you.
The man with the son speaks up. Yes, yes. Local farmhands of ill repute trying to interrupt a funeral procession. How crass.
A elderly man rushes over to the procession. I heard loud voices. Is everything ok Kendra?
It is now, Father Grimburrow. These men fended off Hephenus and his lackies.
Father Grimburrow makes a face of disgust. Those irreverent fools. I would have took them behind the woodshed.
The altercation now past, the procession continues up to the plot Kendra purchased for her father. No further complications prevent the lowering of his coffin into the open grave by the gravediggers. Father Grimburrow gives a short sermon, then invites Kendra to say a few words about her father. Kendra fights back tears and briefly recounts a few of her father’s more courageous or selfless moments, thanking everyone once again for coming. She then invites anyone else to share a few stories or remembrances.
There was the time I was polishing the silver, when I was working off my punishment. Dispite the fact he had no reason to trust me he walked out while I was working. Showed me that he had forgiven me.
"I remember many a fond night sitting by the fire with the Proffesor swapping stories. Me from the towns I past through, getting the stories..the folklore of the old people that lived there..the words being past from parent to child..from grandparent to grandchildren.....the stories of ages past down... him from reading it somewhere in an old book"
Naxx chuckles
"But his stories certainly had merit as well, it was fun debating with him about some of the details of stories we thought had the same origin...he will be missed."
After the Naxx and Sir Thomas speak at the burial, Kendra has a small man approach her and whisper in her ear. Thank you everyone for coming. Father Grimburrow will handle the rest. I truly appreciate everything that you have done for me since my father's passing. Sir Thomas, Phyton, Naxx, Gaarm and Nizvit. There is some business we must attend to, if you are amenable. Please, come back to my home and we will discuss the matter in private.
As you are heading back to her home, Kendra tells you that the matter is related to the Professor's last will and testament. He has bequeathed some items to you and the executor of the will is to arrive within the hour. Kendra isn’t sure what’s contained in the will, since part of its stipulation was that all of the persons must be present for its reading.
The Lorrimor residence is a modest home with crowded bookshelves in every room. The reading of the professor’s will requires the presence of Councilman Vashian Hearthmount (the closest thing Ravengro has to a solicitor), and he has some other matters to attend to after the funeral, so he doesn’t arrive for about an hour.
Vashian arrives precisely on time, in any event. He doesn’t completely approve of strangers being involved in local matters, but he keeps his comments to himself, focusing his involvement entirely on the reading of Petros’s will.
Councilman Vashian produces a scroll case, breaks the wax and opens the case. As he does, a small iron key falls out of the tube, clattering noisily onto the table. Undaunted by the key, the councilman begins to read, eager to be done with the business and to get back home.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.
“Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
“To my old friends, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what it is I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manner of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one’s enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
“And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in a trunk in my Ravengro home. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these tomes herself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of tomes to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
“Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt—she has been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
“I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4710 AR.”
Once the will is read, Councilman Vashian looks to Kendra, who thanks him and dismisses him. Putting on a brave face, Kendra thanks the you again for coming, and informs them that she’ll need at least a few weeks to decide if she wants to sell her family home or remain here in Ravengro. Please stay here in Ravengro, while I make my decision. I would gladly put you up in my home and provide food for you. I'm sure you can find things to do around town if you grow bored. Think about it while I receive the chest.
The chest itself is a relatively small object of oak and iron. Kendra, nervous about the contents, offers the key to the Sir Thomas to give them the honor of opening the chest. The key fits the lock perfectly, and within are several old tomes and one relatively new one. The newest tome sits on the top and bears the phrase “Read me now!” scratched into the leather cover. This book is Petros Lorrimor’s journal and is detailed in the next section.
The other tomes comprise the books of dangerous lore mentioned in his will—three of these have notes tucked into them indicating that they should be delivered to one Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. The fourth, Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye, has a note indicating it should be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge at the Lepidstadt Courthouse (although the note asks for this delivery in particular to be handled discreetly, and includes the address of Embreth’s home so that you can deliver it there). These books are summarized below.
• Manual of the Order of the Palatine Eye: The rich purple cover contains a brass scarab set with a single eye in its center.
• On Verified Madness: This jet-black book is a treatise on aberrations and other entities found on Golarion that possess remote ties to the Dark Tapestry, the name given to the dark places between the stars in the night sky.
• Serving Your Hunger: This text is a copy of one of several unholy books sacred to the goddess Urgathoa. Lorrimor’s notations liberally sprinkle the margins.
• The Umbral Leaves: This lexicon is a translation into Common of the unholy book of Zon-Kuthon.
Once you have buried Professor Lorrimor, heard his will, and looked through the strange books he left behind, you are free to do whatever they please in Ravengro—the stipulation in the will that you remain in town for a month might seem, at first, to be either too restrictive or a welcome vacation. What will you do first in your new temporary residence?
Nizvit will head out with anyone going anywhere. He is unsure of the top world and would like to explore, be he knows how people react to his kind. So best go with protection
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Phyton stays silent throughtout the procession and funeral, his eyes having a faraway look. He says nothing during the confrontation or the reading of the will, he eyes unfocused as if his mind is in a fog.
Not until the small chest is opened, does the man's attention snap to, as his eyes greedily scan the titles of the tomes. Reaching out, his fingers gingerly touch the tomes, but do not open them. Looking up, he says. "I am sorry for my silence, my mind was reeling from the loss of the Professor...." He pauses as he stare away at nothing for a moment before shaking his head, as if to clear it of thoughts. "I am Phyton Empyraster. It seems we will be companions for the foreseeable future. We shall have plenty of free time to get to know each other, no?"
Smiling, he peeres at the books again, picking up the journal, with the "Read Me" note on it. "I wonder what this could be about?" He says absently as he opens the journal and begins paging through it.
The majority of the entries are relatively bland, accounting for day-to-day activities in a small town. The professor has circled several entries in the book with red ink, though, and it is these entries he wanted the reader to pay particular attention to. The f inal entry, dated 17 days ago, was written on the same day the Professor’s body was found.
Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.
Two Months Ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
One Month Ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense—the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I’d rather not let the others know about my curiosity—there’s plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I’m a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty Days Ago:
It is confirmed. The Way seems quite interested in something—no, strike that—someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
Eighteen Days Ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for the Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further) prevented me from transcribing the strange symbols I found etched along the foundation—hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain if the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
Sir Thomas face grows from curiosity, to fear to determination. By the time he finishes his jaw is set. What do you suppose this all means, surely his death is no mere coincidence, he knew he was dying but why could he not be more clear.
"Being stuck in one place for a month...*shudder*
(Assuming we all - or at least myself read the journal)
"Well since it seems we will be here for a month..maybe we can use that time to see if we can find more clues..he might have left something more then just his journal. Maybe we can trace his steps...like finding a copy of that list of those people who died in the fire from the temple of Pharasma...or find out what this Harrowstone is he mentioned, but let's go to this false Crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path he mentions first... "
"The Whispering Way...doesn't ring a bell."
"Does anyone have heard of this...Whispering Way?"
"Nizvit knowz nothong of top wotld. Thatz why Nizvit travel. Nizvit want to learn and zee the world on the top." he nods to affirm his comment
"But Nizvit will help where he can"
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I cannot say that I have heard anything of them but this does sound troubling. I agree that we should look into this matter as we are here for a month anyways.
Kendra asks you to spend the first night in a celebratory dinner, a common practice in Ravengro.
She informs you that the townsfolk may know a little about these topics, but that there is also a library in the house that may provide more information.
Sir Thomas will spend the day in the library looking for mentions of the whispering way.
Thinking to himself History and magic are still foreign to me perhaps I should spend some time studying them in the future.
+7
Sir Thomas will spend the day in the library looking for mentions of the whispering way.
Watching Nizvit work his way around the library, Sir Thomas smiles to himself and thinks He seems to know his way around these books better than I do.
Nizvit, forgive me if I come off as rude, I certainly don't mean to be, but I have never seen one of your kind before. What can you tell me about yourself?
The kobold looks up at the pink skin and gives him what you think is a smile. Either that or hes going to bite you
"Nizvit kobold. Kobold magic kobold. Uze magic and power to help tribe. Nizvit iz... uhm... word uzed... Nizvit iz zpezial. Look like great red dragon mazterz. Zo Nizvit haz high pozizion. But Nizvit bored zo Nizvit travel firzt before Nizvit go back to tribe. Oh. Nizvit haz wingz. Nizvit no fly, but Nizvit no fall hard link pink zkinz"
he grins at the last part as he shows the man the pair of wings he has. Stretching them out a bit. Indeed the small kobold now looks like a small hatched red dragon
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Naxx will go to the celebratory dinner and make polite small talk asking about the town and it's history tonight - and try to use the library the next day. (Trying to steer it towards the Crypt in the Restlands and the Harrowstone).
Performing an appropriate flute melody to get the people in the proper state of mind after dinner.
Naxx is unsuccessful and rebuked by Kendra for inquiring into the Harrowstone and the Crypt at dinner. This is inappropriate for dinner conversation, especially considering it was where my father was found. Tears well up in her eyes. His flute playing is a bit off-key and doesn't quite raise anyone's spirits.
-------------Day 1-------------
The next day, Naxx heads down to the local tavern the next day to try and suss out the information he was searching for earlier.
Naxx finds a gossipy farmer and bleeds him dry of rumors and information. Harrowstone, huh? That place is creepier than scarecrow at midnight. Harrowstone was a prison—ruined after a fire in... 4661 I wanna say? Ain't nobody go up there now, hell I'd be in trouble iff'n they heard me talkin' about it. The man saunters away when he see his friends walk in the door.
Naxx, intrigued by the place, finds an old man rocking in his chair by the fire. Naxx buys him a mug of ale and the man spills all of his secrets. That accursed place? Built in 4594, it was. The town was founded about the same time. It was a place where guards and their families could live. We would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all
of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s basement, but
the building itself was left mostly unharmed.
It's said that the prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. I think he ran off when a young serving wench and set fire to the prison hi'self. Burned his wife alive too. O'course, they commemorated a statue for the warden and the guards. It still stands on the riverbank just outside of town. The old man continues to dotter on about how the warden is living the good life with a young wife in Absalom.
Sir Thomas and Nizvit spend the day researching the Whispering Way in the library and actually find a decent amount of source material.
Scrawled in the margins of a book on cults in the Professor's library is written:
The Whispering Way is a sinister organization of necromancers that has been active in the Inner Sea region for thousands of years. Agents of the Whispering Way often seek alliances with undead creatures, or are themselves undead. The Whispering Way’s most notorious member was Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, although the society itself has existed much longer than even that mighty necromancer. The Whispering Way itself is a series of philosophies that can only be transferred via whispers— the philosophies are never written or spoken of loudly, making the exact goals and nature of the secretive philosophy difficult for outsiders to learn much about.
Nizvit relays this to the group as best as he could. Stumbling over some of the words, but he thiks he manages to get what he learned across