Dawn breaks as cold and dank as the evening was, but at least you're well rested. Breakfast in the common room is unexpectedly good - eggs, cheese, bread, sausage links, and cold chicken, with cold milk or a strong, hot tea to drink.
You are expected at the Lorrimor home in Ravengro by noon. You should make it with some time to spare...if nothing waylays your journey.
Up before dawn Coiger is washed, dressed and primped, his mustache is waxed and he is waiting outside enjoying the change from blue-black night to a dun-hued morn. Somewhere a sun is rising, but not here over Ustalav.
He goes back in briefly to grab breakfast when he hears the proprietress stir, and then goes back out to recite his morning prayers in the muted stillness. Not this year, not yet. His breath in the loamy air is proof of that.
Brother Coiger's charcoal-gray clerical vestments, layered thickly under his armored black inquisitor's coat and pewter gray conical helm are quite striking in the drab colorless early morning for their bleakness. The chill he feels through them is just enough to be called bracing.
There is a hunt afoot here, with dark deeds to be done, and Coiger is anxious to begin them.
He gives the other note-bearers precisely five minutes before he leaves....
The warmth of the breakfast and its quality was a welcome surprise to the young woman. From the moment she read the letters about the dear professor she had dreaded this day. The lump in her chest seemed heavy, but the good start to day helped to lesson that.
She did her best to cautiously glance about at the others, from the night before she had gleaned that her purpose was, for the most part theirs which made them companions of a sort, and Misery was best served with company. Her companions were...different and that wasnt always a good thing in Ustalav.
"I've never...never actually met a dwarf before. You are a dwarf right? She began almost softly for a large woman Her hand making a motion torwards her chin, pantomiming the dwarfs beard.
My father uses some dwarf made equipment at his forge, He swears by it. Do you work metal? She asked the dwarf curiously, [aying what she hoped was a compliment to him.
After his response She offered a brief smile to the elf, She had at least met an elf before.
Your bird? is it a singing bird? She asked trying very hard to be friendly and polite. She was sure she sounded the fool at the moment.They would be in Ravengro by midday, it would awkward to be trudging along the roads ignoring one another, and there was at times safety in numbers.
She had breifly noticed the preacher with the oil mustache earlier,when he briefly came in to grab some of the food, but he seemed to head out almost as brusquely as he came in, He didnt seem the friendly type and she certainly wasnt going to press.
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Sohar rises early, looking out the window at the usual dreary weather of Ustalav. "Aye, it has been some time since we were last here. At least the weather suits the mood," he says to the thrush.
He goes downstairs and enters the common room, where he sees a few of the patrons from the previous night. "Mornin', y'all." He sets his longbow against the wall before sitting down.
When breakfast is served, he tries to give some of the bread to the bird, but she looks accusingly back-and-forth between him and the eggs and chicken. "Now, Miss Lyra, we're not havin' this discussion again." He looks sheepishly around the table, avoiding eye contact with Lyra.
When Chellian asks her question, he seems glad for the distraction and puffs up a bit with pride. "Aye, she sings beautifully when she chooses, though now may not be the best time to ask. And are you also on your way to Ravengro this morning? It seems that several of us are."
Bird song. Not as haunting as whippoorwills but still pleasant.
He hopes it doesn't distract them. If there is one thing Coiger hates more than the undead, it's being late for a funeral.
Morgrym chews down sausage and cold chicken with aplomb, turning to the large woman while drinking in hot tea to wash it all down. "Aye, ma'am, I be a dwarf, beard and all," stroking his own beard in the process. He shakes his head a bit. "Sorry for me black mood, ma'am, 'tis a grim day, and sounds as though we be heading the same place. Morgrym, if ye will. And aye, I both dig up the ore and work it into defenses. What does yer father do?
Morgrym gives the flighty looking elf a sidelong glance, but little more until they get on the road together.
The southern trek to Ravengro is dull and colorless. While no rain falls, the cold air remains heavy with moisture that penetrates through your clothing.
As you approach the last hill before the small town, you pass a very large and very well-maintained cemetery. Each headstone viewed through the high, iron fence serves to remind you of your unhappy purpose here.
As you crest that last hill, Ravengro is revealed before you. The small town has an inviting coziness with its quaint - albeit old - buildings. Here the road forks. The left fork leads to a bridge over a moderate river and, further on, to the huddling town square. The right fork appears more open, passing through farmland and near a large, steepled temple.
Map of Ravengro
My father is the village smith.
She began sounding rather proud of that.
I help him sometimes, mostly with horseshoes or tools, I also have gathered a bit of herbs or hunted to help with things. Thats how I met the proffessor.
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As the group passes the graveyard, Sohar gives a long, serious look at it as if trying to perceive something. After a peculiar gesticulation that may be meant to ward off spirits given the context, he responds to Chellian in a friendly enough manner."Oh, how so, Miss Chellian? Herbs or huntin'?"
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"Either way will take us there, but I'd prefer the left. The right takes us through the town square and some folks 'round here a'int too fond of non-human types."
As they pass the Restlands, he traces the Pharasmin symbol though the air with two fingers trailing it with a bit of ghostly blue light .
"Left it is. It'll be quicker." and more discreet.
He picks up his pace, and keeps an eye out for any suspicious folk about (present company excluded).
Morgrym nods, "Always good t' be proud o' what ye do."
He follows Coiger and Sohar's lead along the road that does not go through the town. "If'n they don' like non-humans, best be avoidin' 'em." He stumps along in silence.
As the group covers the half of a mile to the Lorrimor home, they enjoy a good view of Ravengro from across the river, many homesteads - large and small - and the greystone temple of Pharasma. The temple is clearly the most elaborate building in the township, with its high, gothic steeple, leering gargoyles, and a stunning stained-glass facade depicting the Lady of the Graves judging a regally dressed supplicant.
As the party finally reaches the bridge over the stream adjacent to the Lorrimor home, they observe a very richly-dressed, bored-faced gentleman leaving through the front door. He is followed immediately by a distressed, yet lovely, young woman. The gentleman bows deeply to the woman and you hear him say very eloquently, though devoid of emotion, I'm so very deeply sorry for the poor timing of my need. And I beg your forgiveness for my urgency. Clearly I have upset you. I shall take my leave until after the day's proceedings and trust that the matter may be resolved after your grieving has concluded. Until then, Lady Lorrimor, I bid you farewell.
The man then turns to leave. He notices the group, gives a cordial, yet deeply uninterested nod, and strolls lazily away toward Ravengro center.
Kendra, the Professor's daughter, watches him go with a look of great relief. She takes a deep breath to compose herself, wipes her eyes carefully, and then turns to glimpse the group watching her from the bridge. She musters a weak smile and calls you over, though her glistening eyes betray her strong facade. Please, friends. Do not linger in this dreariness. Come in. I'll put on some tea. We could do with some catching up and I could use the distraction.
He rather likes the clime, but to each her own.
"Thank you very much. I am Brother Coiger Di Melaiz" He says on entering, and doffs his helm. "I often consulted with your father on behalf of my order on matters of the arcane. His help was invaluable. The man himself though shall be missed even more."
"How are you holding up?" He says as a formality, when what he wants to get to ask is: "And pray tell, who was that man and what news did he bring that upset you so?"
He is not one of the faith to bemoan one's loss. To wail and gnash teeth while the corrupt walk about free ready to steal another's life. His is an order of action not pitiable lamentation, which he by no means accuses Kendra of--yet.
Depending upon her answer he may excuse himself to follow leaving her in the hands of the over-tipping elf and young Ulfen girl. They seem sociable enough.
As the group covers the half of a mile to the Lorrimor home, they enjoy a good view of Ravengro from across the river, many homesteads - large and small - and the greystone temple of Pharasma. The temple is clearly the most elaborate building in the township, with its high, gothic steeple, leering gargoyles, and a stunning stained-glass facade depicting the Lady of the Graves judging a regally dressed supplicant.
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Sohar follows the young lady inside and accepts her offer of tea. "Miss Kendra, sorry for your loss. The professor will be much missed by all. I am Sohar. I don't know if you remember me, but your father and I became friends years ago."
Sohar nods at Coiger's questions. "Yes, why was Count Andachi here?"
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Chellian had been having a rough time as it was the closer they neared the professors home. She had never been there, in fact this was the first time she had ventured more than a day or two from home ever. Needless to say, she was instantly suspicious of the richly dressed gentleman.
She didnt hide her scowl as he walked by, in fact it was a downright glare as he left but once he was gone she turned her attention to the more important reason as to why she was there...grieving.
I... am Chellian Oaks, your...the professor, he...
She swallowed and looked miserable her gaze falling to the ground as her hands shot up to rub at her eyes and face. She took a deep breath and licked her lips doing her best to compose herself. When Sohar brought up the man it helped to focus her a bit from her doldrums.
Yes, who was he?
She sighs in response to the inquiries. Oh, just an old colleague of my father's - Adivion Adrissant. He claims to have lent my father some valuable books and came demanding their return. I told him I didn't recognize any of the descriptions and couldn't hand over anything until the will has been executed anyway. He was very angry. But enough of the matter. I'll not speak ill of those who have come to... To.. Her tough demeanor begins to degrade momentarily before she wrestles her emotions back into check.
Anyway, I'm as well as can be expected. It's all been such a whirlwind. I'm afraid I'm a bit out of sorts. Perhaps you could remind me how you all knew my father? Master Di Melaiz, you say he consulted with your order? May I ask what order that is? I hope you don't think me prying!
"I canna speak for th' others, but for meself, yer father got into a scrape, and I happened t' be in the vicinity enjoyin' a good breakfast. Skillets make fine work o' goblin skulls, but it leaves summin' t' be desired for the seasonin' they leave in the pan. Beggin' pardon, Miss Kendra, I don't mean to speak o' violence overmuch on a day o' mourning."
I hope you don't think me prying!
"Not at all, I am a member of the Voices of the Spire. A proactive wing of the Pharasmin ecclesiasticy dedicated to the eradication of the undead. We stand against murderous tyrants such as Tar-Baphon and others who would profane the natural order of things. Your father was quite knowledgeable about such evils..." Coiger's voice trails off. "...and a great help to the Order in rooting them...
"Adrissant." He turns back to Kendra. "You said this Adrissant was looking for a book? And he gave you a description. Do you recall it's title?"
Kendra leads everyone into the home as you're talking. The interior is modest but very comfortable. Every bit of wall is covered by stuffed bookshelves on every topic imaginable. Kendra bids you all to make yourselves comfortable on the couch and armchairs in the living room while she puts the tea on in the adjacent kitchen.
Kendra appears to relax somewhat as everyone recounts their adventures with the professor. At the mention of Adrissant, however, she seems annoyed and dismissive. Oh, something about a scarab and insanity or madness or some such unpleasantness. My father was fascinated by dark topics that only give me nightmares. No matter. Nothing I recognized, though in truth they could be right there, gesturing flippantly at a nearby bookshelf for all I know. My father was a shameless bibliophile. Oh! There's the tea!
She jumps up and runs into the kitchen. After a moment of activity, she returns with a tray laden with tea and cookies for all. She puts the tray down and, before she begins serving everyone, touches a crystal ball on the coffee table while muttering and it bursts into a comfortable light. As if just realizing what she's done, she looks up blushing. Oh, pardon me. We're... I'm not used to company and... It was so gloomy in here... She gives up and returns to the tea in awkward silence.
Coiger looks a bit disappointed in his mentor's daughter.
How ironic her condition, a bibliophobe. Afraid of learning something that could not be unlearnt.
And he thought the room was homey. Like one of the dimly lit, Gothic temple oubliettes where he practiced meditation. A safe and secure stone womb, but nay this he realized was an armory filled with the most dangerous array of weapons this side of the University of Lepidstadt. The place is a fortress of knowledge. 'Shameless bibliophile' the man was a the quartermaster of a nation-state!
Still, the light gives him something to read spines by.
He incants the pray for clarity , and proceeds to search the immediate bookselves for anything out of place, slightly less dusty, anything with the words 'scarab' or 'madness' in their title (alas he does not speak that many languages) or that piques his interest He probably does this repeatedly in an efficient and orderly search pattern until he either runs out of bookshelves, finds something intriguing, or someone stops him.
The professor was investigating a cairn near my home, a few years ago, an...ettercap had wandered close to the cvilized parts of the nation and I was captured and almost devoured. He and one of his guides happened to arrive in the nick of time and drive off the monster. In return I helped them get the lay of the land. He never treated me like a silly local, or even a young girl.
She said lowly coloring a bit as she described her rescue. She felt positively silly about it.That ranger and the professor, they had quite litterally been her heroes for a time. . . well until the ranger Lerond turned out to be a complete jerk. Still it was nice remembering the nice times with the professor.
She was thinking about it she didnt really notice the gloom, until the crystal lit up of course.
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Sohar's eyes widen slightly when Kendra lights up the globe with a touch. "Miss Kendra, there is no need to feel uncomfortable." He chuckles slightly, then says, "Solas spiorad," as he tosses his hand into the air. Four glowing spheres leap from his fingertips and dance about the room. Lyra trills excitedly and launches herself from Sohar's shoulder to chase the lights.
"See, you are in good company." Sohar glances around to see how his new companions react to this revelation.
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Morgrym finds a short stool to sit on, and does his best to hold a cup of tea with his miner's hands. "Shoulda known the professer'd be a man of letters, but never figgered it'd be so many." He tosses back the tea and large handful of cookies. "It be a grey day, indeed, Miss Kendra, though none come t' this land fer the sunshine, that's fer sure. Will yer father be buried t'day or t'morrow? " More tea and cookies disappear into his beard.
"How did he die?" Coiger's voice rings out from an unexpected quarter. His meticulous search leading to a possible surprise appearance behind someone.
"Your father, how did he die?"
He directs the words toward Kendra, but doesn't look up for an answer, his attention seemingly bent upon the title of a rebound grimoire he has just found.
His expression grows sour(er) as if he had just bitten into something rancid. He cribs a quick note to himself in his own journal for future reference, before carefully replacing the tome on it's shelf and continuing on his way.
"Excuse me."
Kendra relaxes visibly when Sohar casts his cantrip. That's lovely, Sohar. Thank you. Father and I are constantly using magic to aid us around the house, but we've had to be so careful about keeping it from the townsfolk. People here are not open-minded enough to deal with innocent magic. What they don't understand, they condemn. I suppose my slip up is a token of how much your company has helped me to relax this morning. She gives Sohar a sincere smile.
She then turns her attention to Morgrym. Yes, Morgrym, today at noon. We actually haven't much longer. Perhaps we should ready ourselves for the burial. You're welcome to use one of the bedrooms upstairs should you wish to change or freshen up. I trust you're- She breaks off at Coiger's blunt interruption.
Kendra turns to the Pharasmin and stares at him with a bit of a stunned look on her face before recovering herself and answering. He... Well... He had an accident. Apparently he was investigating something up at the old Harrowstone ruin and... <ahem> ...a stone fell upon his head. They say he felt no pain. The last sentence is mumbled quietly, as if saying it to reassure herself.
Morgrym coughs at the awkward moment, then says, "A bad end to a good'un. No changin' fer me, Miss Kendra. I'll help yer father dressed as when I helped 'im b'fore."
Morgrym stands, brushes off cookie crumbs as best he can, and stands by the door.
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The dancing lights fade out and Lyra lands on Sohar's shoulder once again. She proceeds to give him a melodious earful about how she feels regarding the situation. Attempting to ignore her, Sohar gives Kendra a reassuring smile.
But then, Sohar shoots Coiger a glare for the tactlessness of his question. Unfortunately, it probably goes unnoticed by the distracted man. "No, I'm ready when you are, Miss Kendra." His simple clothing does seem clean and dry despite the travel and weather.
Sohar shoots Coiger a glare for the tactlessness of his question. Unfortunately, it probably goes unnoticed by the distracted man.
As you're gathering your things to leave the home, Kendra has an epiphany. Oh, Councilman Hearthmount has requested that we settle the matter of my father's will here at the home after the burial. You're welcome to leave any of your things here for when we return. Oh, and where are you staying tonight?! Dear me, I hadn't even thought! There is room to spare here and I'd welcome the company. Or there is an inn on the town square should you prefer. She looks at each of you with somewhat hopeful eyes, especially Chellian.
"Aye, I'll take ye up on yer hospitality, least until ye don' want me under yer roof." Morgrym sets his pack down in the entry hall, leans his weapons against a wall, and prepares to follow.
I would be most honored to stay miss Kendra. I didnt ... have anything apropriate to dress in for such occasions.
The large Ulfen maiden, began somewhat sheepishly. She hadnt worn a dress in a few years, they werent exactly apropriate for working in the forge or traipsing through the countryside in search for herbs and game.
She follows the dwarfs lead, setting her things down quickly though neatly, even carefully tucking her polearm to the side out of the way of traffic. and then placed her brace of javelins beside it. She did deftly reach down to the waist to check that her dagger was indeed still there before she nodded, trying not to look as nervous and sad as she felt.
Kendra appears visibly relieved as each of you announce your intentions to stay with her and keep her company. Oh, wonderful! I was so worried of being terribly lonely here. I'll be happy to show you around Ravengro, too, if you like. The people don't see many visitors, but we'll make a good time of it. She pauses and takes a deep breath, bracing herself for what comes next, but much more optimistic now. I suppose I'm delaying now. We shouldn't keep Father Grimburrow waiting. Not a patient one, that one.
You make your way back the way you came to the Restlands cemetery. As you near the gate at the southwest corner, you see a wagon containing a simple casket and a very small gathering of people. You immediately recognize the tall, richly-dressed Mr. Adrissant standing lazily nearby. He regards your odd party with a strange mixture of boredom and curiosity on his face. A very wide, older gentleman with a meticulously groomed moustache immediately approaches and dutifully introduces himself as "the Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, at your service" in addition to offering eloquent condolences to Kendra. He is tailed by another man of nearly equal age, though this man's attention is squarely on Chellian. He greets her (only her) with rather setting-inappropriate charm, introducing himself as Gharen Muricar. A rosy-cheeked man is standing nearby awkwardly with a boy, clearly his son, who is gawking at Sohar and Morgrym. Finally, an older woman is chatting with the undertaker, who appears rather impatient at his wagon.
Morgrym stops next to the cart, ready to help, and gives the boy a hard stare back before giving the burial grounds a good look over.
Coiger hovers by the undertaker and older woman like vulture circling potential prey until he detects a break in their conversion and jumps in with an introduction and a few questions:
"I am Brother Coiger" He flashes his holy symbol "You are the undertaker I presume? Mister--?"
He waits for a reply. And then asks for a detailed description of the state of the body which he dutifully notes in his journal. He then questions the woman given enough time (name, occupation, relationship to the deceased, etc...) He uses the weight of his keen Perception and Motive Sensing skills to determine the validity of their stories).
If the coffin has yet to be nailed shut he asks for a peek himself (concentrating on discovering for him self the cause of death). He attempts to remain surgically detached throughout the entire process.
If challenged about his credentials he invokes Father Grimburrow's name though the two have yet to meet.
If challenged about his credentials he invokes Father Grimburrow's name though the two have yet to meet.
By the way, do I see anyone fitting his description (older Pharasmin probably with a liver complaint) in the group?
Trying to catch Kendra's attention, he asks, "Do you know everyone here?"
Kendra leans in to Sohar's question and whispers back, clearly more somber than when you left the home. Yes, of course. Mr. Adrissant, you met earlier; he's an old colleague of my father's. The two men are members of the town's council of elders. Councilman Hearthmount will be the one overseeing the reading of my father's will. Zokar, with his son over there, indicating the rosy-cheeked man, owns and runs the Laughing Demon - the town tavern. He was friendly with my father. The woman is Jominda Fallenbridge, an apothecary. She was probably the only true friend my father had in this town. This meager handful makes up just about everyone in Ravengro who didn't think my father a loon or a witch.
...before giving the burial grounds a good look over.
The Restlands is a huge cemetery. Though the town probably claims no more than a few hundred, this cemetery could serve a city ten times the size of Ravengro. It is also meticulously kept, though certainly not cheery. The cemetery has a rise in the middle that prevents you from seeing anything on the far side.
Perception (listen to their conversation): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Sounds like smalltalk about embalming chemicals.
"You are the undertaker I presume? Mister--?"
The undertaker and woman turn to you, both straightening up a bit when they finally process that you're a member of the clergy. Stelian, sir. Stelian Ravendra, at your service o'course. The body was prepared properly, I can assure you, sir. No detail o'erlooked. 'Cept for the head o'course. Not much of it left, truth be told. Hones'ly, most of it was removed and discarded. Nothing but...mess, sir. But 'part from that, all as the Lady deman's, you have m'word. 'Fraid I can't show you at this point though, sir. Perhaps if you'd 'ave stopped by before the service?
At this point, the woman speaks up. Father, Stelian here does excellent work. We've never had the slightest reason to suspect he's done any but the finest work. The Lady will take the poor Professor. The man stands just a bit taller at the praise.
Neither appears to have any reason to deceive you.
After a nod from Kendra, Councilman Hearthmount calls for everyone's attention. Esteemed friends and family of our late Professor Petros Lorrimor, the noon hour has arrived and we must begin. Father Grimburrow awaits us at the burial site. It is our duty to bear the remains to their resting place. May the Lady have four to six volunteers to bear him thence? He pauses and looks around expectantly.
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This meager handful makes up just about everyone in Ravengro who didn't think my father a loon or a witch.
"Nothin' wrong with being a witch. Or a loon, I suppose." Sohar gives her a conspiratorial wink.
May the Lady have four to six volunteers to bear him thence? He pauses and looks around expectantly.
Sohar steps forward.